Taking a Sweeping Left Turn

This theater thing, I knew, would sort itself out somehow. Eventually I'd find something to work on (as a distraction?) and I'll slowly dip myself back in the pool. Here's where we're beginning to take a somewhat different course: I have two new little adventures.

First of all, my sisters chipped in and bought me a membership to eHarmony. Why? I don't know. Maybe they have hope for me? It's a novelty to all of my friends and co-workers, endless entertainment for those few who saw my matches. So this is day...three...I think, and I'm 24 matches into it, so we'll have to see where I am in six months when the subscription runs out. What have I had so far? As my favorite closer message goes, "I prefer not to say."

Now, the second adventure is much more harmless, but it may be pass/fail inside of a week. I bought a bus pass at work. Listen, it's only $10 and the Orange Line goes from a location two minutes north of my apartment (and one minute north of the new Starbucks that's being built) to half a block away from work. Are you serious? For $10 a month, someone can drive me to and from work? Okay, I do have to share with others, and I have a strong feeling it's not going to be yuppie/geek-ville with open laptops and ipods, but I'll keep an open mind. Anything beats sitting in traffic.

So this blog, which I'm going to quit writing any moment now, is going to at least update these two ongoing stories. With my luck and fate's sick sense of humor, I'll find love on the bus and will start commuting with someone I meet on eHarmony. Stay tuned.

Descending Through the Clouds

I spent yesterday out with a couple of souls who provided illumination on a few of my options, paths I can take as I navigate my own wandering through this unknown emotional territory. The one common theme from both friends was the suggestion of self-realization...though one friend came from the angle of acceptance of myself now, and the other brought more attention to the things I've done wrong in my past.

What does any of it mean?

I don't have any answers from yesterday. I don't necessarily have any right now. Maybe the problem lies in the pursuit of a solution. Maybe it lies in the acknowledgment of a problem. Beyond calling one more friend tonight, I think this little brain cloud should conjure an otherwise silent companion.

C: I think you're complicating things.

S: I think you're right.

C: I mean, what is it that you think you're supposed to be? Who do you feel...what role are you not fulfilling right now?

S: Well, I'm not working on any plays, and that's weird.

C: So for the second time in ten years, you're taking a break. Is that bad?

S: I'm not...really looking forward to anything, though. I'm not excited.

C: Okay - that's the same thing as saying that you're not racing. That's good. I just don't understand what you're using for reference, thoguh. Listen, you can't place yourself - and most importantly, your value - in the Playhouse world. You were never that important to it in the first place.

S: That's a strange thing to hear.

C: It's true. You've done a lot of stuff there, but you're rooted in that place without any real relationship to it. You're definitely not bound by contract or employment....

S: That is kind of how I feel about it now. Isn't that funny? I didn't feel that way before.

C: Because now you have...

S: Distance.

C: Right.

S: Weird.

C: And maybe you have a little perspective, too. What is the worst that would happen if you just didn't direct or write a play for a while?S: Nothing, I guess. Playhouse would keep moving to bigger and better things. In the end, the only two things that will be remembered will be Welcome Home, Soldier and the film festival.

C: That's very detailed, but you didn't answer my question. What would happen to you?S: I don't know. I'd probably...find something else to do.

C: An adventure.

S: Right - A trip down the Amazon looking for anacondas with Ice Cube!

C: No, idiot. Why did you become a writer? How do you choose the things you study?

S: I like asking questions, exploring mysteries.

C: See? There's -

And Alex F. waves me out of the conversation, completely oblivious of the fact that I have headphones on and a notepad in front of me. What was so important that he couldn't leave me alone in my own world? The Lakers are in the playoffs, and they lost game one.

3:35pm

C: So as I was saying....

S: Yeah, sorry about that. I have to give him my full attention because if he has to work hard to keep me in the conversation, he starts to spit.

C: Spit?

S: It's possibly a Pavlovian response. I'm too busy blinking to ask. Anyway....

C: Yes, moving on, sans spit. (pause) Do you remember writing about people in the industry choosing to be good actors, writers, producers - what have you - before they decide to be good people?

S: Yeah - it's part of the Fourth Wall.

C: I think you might be wrestling with that choice. You've been...well, sometimes you feel like you've been that guy.

S: You might be giving me too much credit.

C: No, I am, as I always have tried to do, giving you more credit than you give yourself. (pause) Close your eyes.

S: What?

C: Close your eyes. Remove all associations you have between the things you're wrestling with and the things you think give them value.

S: I kind of need to keep writing this conversation...

C: Stop writing for a second. Close your eyes and breathe.

I close my eyes.

C: Breathe.

S: Okay.

C: Listen to me. (pause) It's okay to let go of a comfortable place so you can dictate what happens in your life. It's okay to acknowledge when something isn't working for you any more.

S: It isn't working for me any more.

C: So do something else. It's simple; It doesn't have to be a substitute. All it needs to do is fulfill a need...and ideally, get you closer to where you want to be.

S: I don't exactly know where I want to go.

C: I didn't say anything about where you want to go. I said that you should be closer to where you want to be.

S: Where do I want to be?

C: Present. Here. Now. Standing with your past behind you and ready for the future. (pause) Build on this, who you are now and what you have to offer. You don't have to be more of anything. (pause) Open your eyes.

S: I'm still not sure....

C: Isn't that funny, how we don't know exactly what to do at every moment of the day? Do you know what you're practicing right now without any knowledge of your doing it?

S: Writing?

C: Trust. You don't know where this conversation is going but you keep writing. That's all I ask of you. Just...trust that the moments will come.

That's all I can do. Am I waiting for inspiration? Am I waiting for an answer? If I wait long enough, I think I'll find out.

The Light in the Window

The moon over Miami must be a different one, because if it was the same I would swear it was playing favorites. It's almost within reach, regardless of where you stand. At the beach, its dust falls into the ocean and onto your face. Out in front of my parents' house, it hangs like a party light moving with the correct time. She hovers over like a doting mother, sometimes smiling gently through a curtain of clouds, and other times watching sternly, lighting the rest of the sky.

In Los Angeles she is a mysterious muse, always distant, always hiding behind obstacles. Clearly she prefers Miami, I think, but before I rush to judgement, I must be ready to assume that she is a mother to us all, and her role changes with location. I don't know that people in Southern Florida look to her as much as I do, but I digress. She belongs to us all.

She just may have raised her Miami children differently. I wouldn't know for sure because I don't live there, but I think I can say that most of the natives there are comfortable with themselves. They dress for comfort, they spend time with their families, and they don't place a great emphasis on building one mall, movie theater, or discount warehouse store for every 200 people. They dream of the lottery like we do, but I don't know that anyone dreams of moving to Miami for fame and fortune...okay, outside of a minority of people in Cuba.

In Los Angeles, the moon's mountainous brothers have set the precedent. Look up and see something taller, stronger, more accomplished. This inspires many to build higher, to climb to the top and see everyone from a distance. The height of wealth, of accomplishment, of earning awards and a bigger house or faster car is the new glory for an Angelite, and those cold, dark mountains watch on with pride.

Do you have to drive to a Starbucks? Don't worry. We'll build a closer one. Within a two block radius of where I work, you can find a regular Starbucks, one in a mall, another in a hotel, one at a gas station, and yet another one in a bookstore. Soon there will be three Target stores within five minutes of the same radius, to complement the two I know of on the East side of the Valley. Don't get me started on McDonalds or the traffic on the Ventura freeway.

Even though I'm here in the mix, entertaining all of those options, I do also feel like there is in this city a concentrated atmosphere of overwhelming competition and lack of value in the individual. In L.A. you have to be comfortable with yourself as a survival response; Unless you've achieved, bought, built, stood out, or most importantly, won, you will slip by entirely unnoticed.

It's exactly how the mountains have dictated it. It's all uneven ground. They've forced us to build roads around, over, and through them, and our vision becomes narrowed to the point where we can only focus on where we have to go, how we can get there, and what we can buy on the way. We don't notice the person next to us, we try never to establish eye contact with a stranger, and the well of encouragement or acknowledgement for small steps is running...wait, it's damp and...no, it's dry. Where would I have found that kind of love in L.A.?

I know why the moon is so close to the treetops in Miami. That's where my family is. The distant moon over my home here in the Valley is my connection to them, and the very reason I go there in my mind to hide, to heal and keep parts of me safe. As much as I've doubted whether or not I should be here in Los Angeles, I know that my family wants me to be here, to be everything they know I can be.

Now that I've stopped to call this "home", where do I begin?

Visiting With An Old Friend

She reappears when I blink my eyes, and it takes me a moment. Maybe I've been away too long.

M: Hey. (pause) You're not gonna say "hi" to me?

S: Hi.

M: So how are you?

S: I don't know.

M: Why are you staring at me like that?

S: I...don't know. You're not real.

M: No, I'm not. Do you want me to go away?

S: Please...don't. (pause) What are you doing here?

M: I came to help.

S: With what? I'm fine.

M: What were you just about to do?

S: Get something to eat. Maybe something to drink.

M: Sit.

S: I'm hungry -

M: Sit - over there. Come on, I want to talk to you.

S: Can I get something -

M: Sit.

S: Okay.

I sink onto the couch and she mirrors me, focusing all her attention on me.

M: First of all, why do you still think about me?

S: Why can't I?

M: I didn't say you can't. I was asking why you do it.

S: It just...happens, I guess. It's easy to think about you.

M: Yeah, that worries me.

S: Why? It's not up to you.

M: Well, you definitely don't think about who I am now. You think about who I used to be.

S: That's not...entirely...true. I think about what you were to me. Most of the time, it's just the little things that I remember.

M: I wish you didn't. I feel like there are things you won't do because of me.

S: I don't reject things because - listen, did you come here to try to erase yourself from my memory?

M: I know I can't do that. But I also know you're having a tough time and I don't want you to go to the past for the truth.

S: What kind of truth do you suppose I'm looking for? I'm not walking on a razor's edge here. There's no huge quest.

M: Maybe not, but...what I see in you is a holy grail somewhere in your future. I think you're waiting for it. I think you're waiting for the memory of me to happen again.

S: There is no you in my future.

M: Then why are you talking to me now?

Mid-sentence, I stop and lean back. She got me.

M: I didn't come here to confuse you. I'm not trying to get erased. I want you to remember me, and hopefully you forget the bad stuff. Well, whatever it takes, I just want you to be happy.

S: Thanks.

M: But that's not why I'm here.

S: This might be a sign that I have to stop this late night snacking. Maybe I just need to go to bed.

M: I want to say something to you first. (pause) I know who you are. I knew you before we ever met, so when we were finally together, it was hard to accept, because...neither of us were ready. But I'm here now because I know...you're having a hard time with your mother in the hospital. You've been away from the theater, you've been away from the gym, and I want you to believe that I love who you are and who you can be. You forget that sometimes because you don't hear my voice saying it, and sometimes you don't believe it when others say it.

S: With good reason.

M: Yeah, absolutely. But for all you do and all you've done for other people, I wanted to remind you that it's okay to let go. Nothing that happened between us, nothing that happened in those moments where you had to make a difficult decision, none of it was your fault. You didn't abandon your family, you didn't lose me, you didn't lose that girl who moved up to San Francisco. Every moment we spent together is part of who you are now, but you can't be afraid any more to try again. You won't lose anything. You won't lose me.

S: So...you must be saying this because there's something I'm supposed to do.

M: I'm saying this because you think your best days are behind you. I never wanted this kind of doubt to be in your life. I definitely didn't want to be the cause of it. Just...please...let go and get started again.

S: Okay...I think. I'm not sure I know what to do.

M: You will.

I close my eyes, and she's gone. Her perfume lingers in the air, but I look around for an immediate clue.

I have absolutely no idea where to begin.

The Map of My Family

My mother is now in post-op, having undergone surgery this morning, and I'm beginning to breathe, anxious to hear her voice. The family has spent the whole weekend in the hospital, pacing the hallways, going from waiting room to waiting room, basically being where I wish I could be, but I'm really statisfied that they were there for her. I feel like I'm breathing for the first time this weekend.

In the height of this scare, this moment in time when you shove your worst fears to a dark corner and try against the current to stay positive, some things become painfully clear. There is a huge difference between stating good intentions and doing the right thing. All I saw from my family this weekend was the greatest example of selflessness, of dedication and commitment. How other things compare to the example of my sisters and my father is now a huge difference in depth and honesty to me. You only know the value of something to a person by what they do in relation to that thing or person. What a person says, really, is meaningless.

And so things have changed a bit for me, and for my family. My mother, obviously, has to live her life differently, and in the best case scenario, the greatest change she'll have to face is the adjustment to life without as much pain as she's become accustomed to. She may need another surgery, to repair her knee, but this was the major one. As for me, my level of tolerance is going to shrink to accommodate a greater dedication to a few important things. Do repeat offenders get another chance? I suppose they'll find out quickly.

This is where I understand my father a little more. He has lost faith a bit in apologies, and although I argue his paradigm of a complete lack of belief in them, I understand his hurt completely because I also know what it's like to be completely let down. He rants, he fights, he swings his beliefs completely in the opposite direction, but he's also extremely tolerant despite the fact that it gets increasingly difficult with age. I take a long look around him, and I see that my mother, too, has been patient beyond all reason. My sister Monica consistently does what nobody else will do, and she'll also bear the weight of the blame for it. My sister Maria goes directly to the point, also believing that there might be a second chance and possibly even a third, but beyond that it's pretty much a point of no return. Any territory inside of that - for the whole family - is fertile ground for generosity, love, and support. In the gray area just outside of those boundaries is where the family will argue and defend.

And I get it, I totally understand; This is the map of my family. This is the reason why I've been able to feed on the energy and strength of their love, even though sometimes I get lost when it feels like the family scatters a bit. That circular area right in the middle is where we all run to whenever there's a crisis. We do it by instinct. We sometimes forget it's there when we explore the area outside - careers, house issues, negative sources on the fringe - but right now, as they wheel my mother back into her room with my father sleeping in a chair in the corner and my two sisters sending me text messages and pictures, calling me with every update, the center of this universe is a warm place to be.

No, the story of this crisis is not over with - only one chapter has closed today - but we are strong, and we are alive, and everything else that could try to hurt what we have will just eventually fade away. It was this way in the beginning, because they gave me life, and it will never change.