INK Blurb
At age 53, Austrian actor Christoph Waltz received the Best Actor award at the Cannes Film Festival 2009 playing the role of “The Jew Hunter”, Hans Landa, in Inglourious Basterds.
“You gave me my vocation back.” Waltz said in his acceptance speech, addressing the director of the film, Quentin Tarantino. Later in 2010, the Sienna born actor also received an Oscar in the category of best supporting male actor for the same role.
At age 53, Christoph Waltz finally “made it”. For those who don’t know Mr. Waltz, you should probably look him up for a fuller description. But to sum up his unusual success in a inadequate sentence: After acting for his entire life in small gigs and at times, barely making a living, by chance or fate, Quentin Tarantino found and gave him the role that lead to Waltz’s current fame.
53 is a little more than tripling 17.
When I turn 17 in approximately 58 minutes, I will not have my life figured out.
My almost 17 self has realized that I am a pretty fickle person by nature in terms of, well, everything. My mood changes quickly, my opinions change quite frequently, and my rationale for my passionate albeit evolving opinions change too. This can be quite frustrating for not only me, but also for people I care about.
As Robert Frost had proposed decades ago, I too, hope to unite my vocation and my avocation. But first, what is my avocation? Is it filmmaking – because of my stepdad’s career and my reliance on films for solace? Is it dance – because I’ve never felt so found and engaged in the present before dancing? Is it writing – because a poem can express my sensibilities far more eloquently than my tongue ever could? Or could it even be art history – in which I am dumbfounded again and again over the insurmountable and often inexplicable power of individual expression?
Is it possible that I truly feel passionate towards all of those things? This notion generates one of my greatest discomforts. A jack of all traits is a master of none. How do I harmonize my ever-changing passions with the reality that I will eventually have to settle with something? Does this mean that, at the end of the day, I am actually passionate about nothing?
But 53 is a little more than tripling 17.
If Christoph Waltz was able to keep faith through all those years to finally find a break at 53, I will struggle through this un-sureness in my teenage years.
I am alive and aware, thinking and feeling: my change is inescapable. I have no idea how my passions will differ tomorrow, even if every minute of yesterday has influenced what I love today. The time and effort I dedicate to this uncertainty is self-evident. At its heart, that must mean something, and that will suffice.
