The Tide Comes In

"About a week and a half ago, we were in New York, and I was on the 9th floor, and was coming down the elevator of this hotel, and this woman steps into the elevator over on the 5th floor, or whatever, we were both going down...and she was this beautiful older woman, like, she was 75 or 80, and she was just so beautiful, and she stepped in...she was real...you know those people who have lived a great life and had this amazing face, like a life well-lived...and she stepped into the elevator. I said 'I like your jacket.' She said, 'You like my jacket?' I said, 'Yeah, your jacket's great. Beautiful coat.' She said 'Thanks...that's great that you noticed that coat.' And I said 'It's beautiful.' It was like, very long, so woolen, it was too big for her, it made her look real small. It was sweet. It was like one of those classic duffel coats now, with the two buttons, like Paddington Bear. She said 'it's great that you like my jacket, you know, this jacket is really important to me.' I was like 'It's great. It looks good on you.' And she said, 'You know, I bought this jacket, and when I bought this jacket, I decided I was gonna live my life. It's amazing, this jacket, isn't it?' I said 'It's beautiful.' We got down and I helped her with her suitcase and I brought her out to the taxi, and we were getting in the taxi, and she asks ' Well, what do you do, young man?' I said, 'Well, I'm in singer in a band.'  'What is it you play?' 'Oh, I don't know, kind of folky, I suppose.' She goes 'What are you called?' I told her our name, she never heard of us...I told her about the film, she never heard of it. And so I gave her my email, and she says, 'I'd like to come hear you play music...you know, I don't know if you noticed this coat on me, because, I'll tell you something...' She kind of welled up a bit, she got emotional. She says, 'I stayed in my house for two years in my pajamas and I ate nothing but cereal. I didn't go outside my house and I saw this jacket, and I said fuck it - I'm going to live my life.' And she was getting into the taxi and said 'I don't know why I'm telling you this.' She began...she welled up a bit. She says 'My son was in the fucking building.'  And I was like 'Oh Jesus.' 'And he quit! He quit on the day before. He quit on the 10th of September, and he was going back in to get his stuff. I never spoke to him, I never managed to tell him I didn't want him to go in. I overslept, and I didn't speak with him. And I bought this coat. And you noticed it. Thank you for that.' I don't really know why I'm telling you that other than to say that it was lovely meeting this woman and it made me realize that sometimes we don't...the journey between your mind and your tongue can be so short and yet such a long distance when it comes to actually saying something that we're afraid to say to our others. So this song is about, I guess, just getting it off your chest, just...fuck...and actually, I can tell you, I don't know how the other person is going to react, but I'll tell you it's always a lot less than you think, and it's always...the weight off your shoulders is just insane. So I want to dedicate this to Lois in New York, and I hope she comes to that gig...she probably won't. It's called (If you have something to say) Say it To me Now." (Story by Glen Hansard, prefacing a song while tuning his guitar) 

 

It's been a quiet weekend. Things tend to get out of the way now that work doesn't blanket fog over everything. An old friend pops up next to me, filling in the void left by others.

C: It is your 19,647th day on Earth. If you accomplish nothing else today, and it's okay if you don't, just think about the fact that you're a year away from 20k. I know you don't celebrate birthdays, but maybe that's something you should consider. 

S: I had no idea you were keeping count. 

C: Funny thing about that number; The only one that counts is today. 

S: Makes me feel like I'm wasting the opportunity with this funk I've been in. I've tried to climb out of it, but...here, let me roll out the excuses. It's been hot. I haven't been feeling well, but it's probably due to the heat. I've felt disconnected from people. I need to lose weight. People are still bugging me regarding the job I had, and they're too lazy to actually look at my last posts about that job ending. 

C: You know you can partially blame the fact that work isn't a good distraction for you, right? This pandemic has made everything harder, and the only people it's really benefiting are taking joy rides into space. 

S: Yeah, I can rationalize all of this stuff and I've mostly been okay, but Friday was a combo that really threw me. I think I just need to get out of the house a little bit. I'm going to go out tomorrow. 

C: I think that's a good idea. Remember how many things you were curious about? Things you wanted to learn about? What's your latest count of museums you've been to? 

S: At least 13? I'm going to hope for the best and try to be present. I have to dig a little and see if there's anywhere else I need to go before things change. 

C: Seems like you're ready to go back to work.

S: I think so.

C: AND it seems like you've finally let go of going back to your old job. You know, by choice as well as the fact that they don't respond to your messages. 

S: Yeah, with time and a little perspective, I think I've come around to see that going back would be pretty terrible for my growth. Seems like the big studios are being opportunistic and making some big changes. 

C: That's great, but...this isn't their story. It's yours. Let that chapter end, for you and for them. 

S: Feels like a lot of things are ending now. 

C: The curse of living a long, eventful life. (pause) I guess...if you meet enough people and do enough things, you'll find your share of goodbyes and heartbreak will be pretty significant. 

S: I'll take it. (pause) The alternative is scary, you know? There are people out there who have been at the same job for 30 years, started a family early, so committed to that early, and nothing ever happens to them. Safe, safe, safe. Boring, I think. 

C: Do you actually think there's a route that doesn't involve as much sacrifice? Somewhere things balance out, either sooner or later. 

S: Listen, I don't have any regrets. On a daily basis I look at the things around me and wonder what other things I've sacrificed to have them. I just look at the wall of fame where I have a bunch of my big accomplishments on it, and I know that's all me. I don't question myself or worry about my longevity in a committed relationship, because...well, I'm sure you know that history isn't kind in that respect. I haven't been in a relationship yet that didn't show me the exit door the whole time. 

C: Sounds like a classic coming of age supervillain story. Except it's more...like a coming of middle age story. Is this what they call a middle age crisis? 

S: Oh no, is that what this is? I didn't think that was a thing any more. 

C: I don't think so. It's just pandemic blues. You would otherwise have work to focus on and would be okay. 

S: Middle age crisis. 

C: Hey - for what it's worth, the middle ages handed off to the Renaissance. You more than likely have some great years ahead of you. 

S: More than likely? You think I'll be able to create an iconic piece of art that will make me immortal? 

C: (checking Google) Leonardo Da Vinci began four years of work on the Mona Lisa when he was 51. Michelangelo was 72 when he was given the job of buidling/designing St. Peter's Basilica. Do I need to go on? Colonel Sanders? Reagan and Schwartzenegger switching from acting to politics? Bram Stoker and Laura Ingalls Wilder- 

S: Okay, enough of google. I get it. Can I just have a moment to sulk in this funk? 

C: Sure, sure, but maybe you should consider mentioning that to your doctor. Maybe it'll help.

S: Or maybe it'll just pass. 

C: Maybe. It could also last a long time, too, so do something, either way. 

S: I will. 

The void is familiar, almost friendly if not indifferent. It feels like the ocean washing over the beach, like the distant view of the city from thousands of feet above, like every instagram photo of someone showing you how insanely they're living their best life. This is what it feels to sit at the edge of the observable universe and wonder what else is out there. 

It is, obviously, whatever I make of it from here on. I just have to remember to keep recycling my thoughts and intentions, or else just go to sleep and hope that dreams are satisfying enough. 

Fuck it - I'm going to live my life. 

Bold as Love

Everyone who talks about independence and brags about it on social media is lying to you. I can't help seeing the brag as a beacon for validation, because the truth about independence is that it's a grind. To be your only liability, to make plans for yourself and indulge in your whims, to give all of yourself to what you do, guarantees that somewhere along the line people will detach and move past while they create their lives, build families, and maintain close friends. Your importance and relevance is fleeting; What brings us together - the common things we work for, be they art or work - is temporary and has a short memory. 

I'll give you a moment to wipe some of the deep cynicism from your eyes. I know I sound a little bitter. There are reasons. Here's a blank space to bleach that opening a bit. 

[this space left intentionally free from negative thoughts]

Throughout the long written history of my life that I have managed to keep in various versions of this journal, I have exercised curiosity and hope, turning over the topsoil and evolving with time, and trying to make sense of the windy path that I've been on. When I began, I was fresh out of high school with a crush on a cheerleader and a love for playing music. The love for music was suffocated by music teachers who grounded the process to a halt (only one had a love for expression). I gave up; It was a wash. I then pursued theater, and the journal followed me as I started to carve my own path. Little did I know that the habit of finding my own way would apply to everything: my artistic life, my work, my relationships.  

Now I am in my 50s, both parents gone and with a chapter of my career now behind me, gone are hundreds of people who mostly don't know who I am any more or how I'm doing now. They're living new stories as they build on the foundation left behind. Now I have moments where I'm nobody to a lot of people, and I won't allow myself a single moment to reminisce about the good old days. That's not who I am, and those memories are only useful to stick on the huge door that continues to be closed. 

It's a really good thing that I've been here before, having left a theater company I gave all of myself to and a job that funded it all. The span of 2007-2008 was a year spent in depression, self discovery, and a little confusion over what direction I was headed in. It was a pause before the next overture began, and what followed was an intense 12 years that built up a crescendo and then fell to silence. I have been here before. I have been someone, and then nobody, only to become someone new. I'm back to being nobody, hidden in this apartment watching the calendar days flip away as meaningful as the previous day. Saturdays are no different than Wednesdays, and holidays just come and go without any fanfare, with a few tone deaf people still focused on long weekends (what are those?) and complaining about work. 

When I get into these depressed ruts, I immediately get restless and find myself working hard to climb out. I try to look for the silver lining - are there are many - and help myself understand the unique situation I'm in. There are things I have to revisit in order to forget: the connections I had with people when I obsessed about the work and getting it right, the speculative promises to keep me in mind and bring me back into the fold, the struggle to get from week to week when I was working while trying to keep a failing relationship afloat, the feeling that sometimes the only validation I received was from the artists who were benefiting from my hustle. I also have to understand the perception that for the most part, I believe people are just waiting to see how I'm going to land and evolve, and that's a super interesting pattern I can't ignore. 

For a long time, I have referred to the exponential pattern of me taking leadership roles and expanding the scope every few years. It began with college theater, where I took on the publicity department and acting as president of the dramatic society. I was the go-to person for all things theater related. I left there and a few years later, I joined Playhouse West and became not only the technical and managing director that kept the theater company going, but also became a prolific director. I left there and went to Universal to run the entertainment program, produce events, and manage artists. Now that I feel that part is truly over, I have to trust that something new will come along. As before, I have to know that nobody but me will see potential. I also have to know that wherever I land, not everyone will be a fan and people may resist whatever I do. I used to push back or hate defeat. I'm older and wiser now. I think I've learned how to work on the big things - being in the spotlight under the pressure - and the little things - exercising a short memory and understanding how to give trust and reclaim it. It's a work in progress. 

Today I got a message that a friend of mine had died a couple of days ago. He had a difficult life after a debilitating accident, but when our paths crossed he uniquely challenged and then championed me. Through that experience I've had some lifelong friends and some amazing memories, but damn. It makes me think about the quality of my life, and what things should matter. I get caught up in disappointing moments, especially lately, and I have to allow myself the moment to feel let down. I have to really, consciously, act on letting go, regardless of what happens. Do people even realize the effect of what they do or don't do? Do they realize the message they sometimes send to me, while protecting themselves? I wanted this life, where I could be isolated and in control of my own happiness. I can't let flawed interactions spoil that.

My father was very angry towards the end of his life, holding grudges about what seemed like unimportant things. I told him many times "there's no time to invest in things like this; We might not have a lot of time left." While my father was entitled to his perception of things, my friend had every reason to be angry but didn't spend a lot of time entertaining it. He was an avid competitive diver and then suddenly he lost it all after the accident. He couldn't move his arms or legs, he couldn't breathe on his own. Think about Christopher Reeves' situation. My friend was still committed to being positive and a good friend to all. He wasn't a guy who used to do things. He was still someone to be considered, someone who could affect lives, someone who was inspired and supportive. 

And so it goes, on a day that I had plans that left me waiting and then abandoned, I had time to think about it all and hope for perspective. What was the life I've had to this point? Am I anywhere close to giving up? I spent part of the day upset, disappointed, feeling a mixture of emotions that made the afternoon feel like quicksand. I waited for hours for the day to right itself, for a distraction that was supposed to come. And then I went to a familiar place. I had to fix it myself, and let go of any conspiracy to cripple my ability to cope. 

I got dressed, motivated, and left the house to begin a new program that would train me to eventually run a 5k. I haven't run any distance on a treadmill in two years, and haven't run outside in maybe five. I started something new, because I can't hold on to anger or feelings of resentment. They're too heavy, and whatever inspires them is too temporary. 

I may be an option for some people, a useful but discarded utility, a person whose feelings never have to be considered, but I am my best option. I can never go wrong with taking care of myself. Now that I have more days behind me than I have ahead of me, I have to value this life I have the responsibility of curating. If not me, then who's going to do it? Who's going to consistently step up and pick me up, surprise me, help me before I think of asking for it? 

I'm still here. I'm still important, and valuable. I still have stories to tell and great things to do. Enjoy your intermission while it lasts, because I'm waking up with purpose tomorrow.