Chapter 6 - Rattled AF (Part 1/3)
Scene 91: The Perfect Desk Chair.
EXT. ASHLEY FURNITURE — NIGHT
A blur of cars drive past the storefront as we PAN in.
INT. ASHLEY FURNITURE – HOME OFFICES – NIGHT
A PATRON walking by a home office setup stops to admire a pristine desktop. She then turns toward MUFFLED ARGUING with a look of worry on her face. She hurries off.
A few STORE EMPLOYEES also turn toward the arguing, the increased volume of the nearby scuffle grabbing their attention.
We FOLLOW their gaze toward AJ and Emile situated at the side of the room. AJ is sitting in a black desk chair and Emile is looking exhausted.
“We’re not getting a black chair; I think they’re so tacky and I can’t write a book feeling like I’m sitting in a stuffy office somewhere, wasting my life away!”
I was adamant about not wanting a black office chair. I’d spent weeks searching for what I thought I did want but kept coming up empty-handed. Emile was beyond frustrated, but still supporting me on my quest.
“Boo, I can’t help you find the perfect desk chair if you don’t tell me what it is you’re looking for.”
“I don’t know, Emile. If I knew, we’d have it already. I just know that I don’t like anything we’ve seen yet, but I also know in my gut that when I see it I’ll know.”
Emile took a deep breath, bit his tongue, and remained supportive. He knew what was really going on, but also knows me well enough to know he had to choose when to call me out on my bullshit. As my first-world stress level reached a fever pitch, he instinctively knew this was not the time.
“Whatever, I’m over it. I’m so sick of looking for this stupid chair and we’ve just wasted our Friday night at a furniture store. Let’s just grab some food and head home.”
I’d reached my limit for the day.
So, home we went.
I just couldn’t let it go. So, I hopped on my laptop and searched all the same websites I’d visited a million times before, looking for this magical desk chair that would bring me such comfort that I’d have no choice but to write a bestseller. I didn’t find it, so we went to bed.
I was feeling overwhelmed by the search; I was anxious that my boyfriend was growing tired of my excuses and, most importantly, I was afraid that if I did actually find the perfect chair that my excuses would no longer be valid. I was afraid of succeeding, so I was self-sabotaging and Emile knew it.
I’m going to be real honest with you: I believe wholeheartedly that I was created to share not only my story, but the stories of people around the world. I have within me the ability to impact positive change in people’s lives. We all do. We all have the ability to leave our mark on the world—if we find the courage to do so.
But how could I leave my mark if I didn’t have the perfect chair to do it from? I’m an expert at avoidance, at procrastination, and at doing anything on earth that could possibly keep me from achieving what my heart knows is my destiny. It’s just a fact. I had convinced myself that without this perfect chair that I knew must exist, I would not be able to write this book that I wasn’t 100 percent certain would ever actually exist anywhere other than in my heart.
(Come back Wednesday for Part 2 of this chapter...)