Waypoint

(blowing some dust off this thing) 

Writing about myself was a habit I loved, the only place in my life where I could indulge in what I was feeling, confront my doubts and suspicions, and generally let my brain wander in a space that I carved out for a couple of decades, first with an angry and confused catharsis, then a slow examination of my life. What was the most telling part of the whole experience? It wasn't what I wrote or when I wrote - I was honing talents the whole time - it was when I decided to stop. Life intervened. Work or career ambitions, relationships that informed me that my thoughts, feelings, and emotions had no value, all kept me away from the words on the page. One in particular said that she didn't just want to be a character in my story. Playwriting was a sneaky way of sorting through things. When that stopped and I had a new career, I had precious little time to invest back in myself. 

I was 17 when I first grabbed a stack of college rule paper to dump my confusion into words. I'm 53 now. High school and some college is behind me. Careers in both live theater and entertainment production at Universal Studios are behind me. Both parents are dead, and I'm a few years into a rebirth that involved investing in people and back on my health, and now, in the midst of a pandemic, I'm looking for work and am embracing an independence that filled the void where I once wanted to be in a good relationship, part of something that maybe my parents always wanted for me. I've had so many experiences with relationships attempting to wreck everything on the way out, that I've learned to love the freedom and independence of loving myself and keeping living small and manageable. I just might be one of the few people who has embraced quarantine and am going to come out of it healthier and happier. 

That's the plan, anyway. I know I'm ambitious. Many guys my age - at least the ones I graduated high school with - are beginning to settle down with their families and homes, planning retirement and a life of leisure. Let the waistline relax a little, maybe watch the hairline lean back on a scalpy recliner. It sounds great, I'm sure, but I traded all of that for a creative life where I've been able to do a lot of crazy things. Moment after moment I've had to pinch myself into the present and ask myself how in the world I arrived here; the milestones are scattered across the years and I'm so grateful for all of it. I have to believe that this is a life well spent; I don't live with regret and have been able to reinvent myself at crucial places in my life. I've been able to balance against hardship with love from artists, and given more weight to the positive. I don't know how I've been able to endure some of the stuff I've been through. But I am happy. And I am unaffected. Maybe I'm wiser for all of it. 

My parents set a new precedent for me. My friends, the artists, loved me when someone, anyone, told me otherwise. And I am doing anything BUT slowing down and heading towards any final chapters of my life. Being a single, autonomous individual who has just been given a new blank canvas to work from, I'm grateful for what and who I am. 

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Part of my secret for building this amazing COVID-free bubble is that I never stop learning, and am still curious. Here are some lessons of varying value, off the top of the dome:

• Repetition is key, routine is king.
• When you miss someone from your past and consider finding them again, you have to understand that you're missing who they were when you last knew them. You have no idea who they are now.
• Everything ends. It's the only way your life can get out of the way for the next thing to come. It helps if you can find a moment to look around and say "this will end someday." It's surprising how you'll revisit that moment when the time comes. 
• You are allowed to react truthfully, sans logic. You shouldn't hold on to that emotion without an effort to really understand what's going on.
• Everyone has a choice to treat you well when they have the opportunity. Any excuse to the contrary will not work both ways if they come around later. 
• A grudge is heavy and takes up space in your inventory (for you gamers out there). Indifference is a kind of meditative result of moving on, and filling your life with purpose. It takes exercise and practice to understand a peaceful way of letting things be independent of your dated reaction. 
• Lists are awesome.

I think...I hope that I can get back into this habit. There's still a lot to unpack, and I also have a book to write, but if I can strike when inspiration floats by, I think I can continue evolving here. Why I didn't at least write when my mom died last year is a mystery. I'm a little more self-aware now. 

The pandemic has wiped away temporary plans like a whiteboard, and arrested momentum everywhere. In so many ways the playing field has been overturned, everyone scrambling to test their resourcefulness and will. It sounds like a perfect time to get reacquainted.