Prepare Ye The Way

My brother flew into town two days after I called him and told him that my Dad's hospice doctor told him he had two weeks to live.  Even though we figured out that there's no way to know how much time my Dad has left, we do know that he's on the decline and that our time with him is diminishing.  So all of the things that we said we needed to take care of, we are taking care of finally while he's still clear and lucid and with us mentally.

In the time my brother and I had together, we got his application for USAA together.   We organized his living trust.  We put my brother in charge of his finances.  We had talks with him.  I feel much more secure about having everything in place should he pass sooner rather than later. 

My brother and I both realized that we had been a bit in denial that this was happening.  Clearly, I"ve been with my parents a lot lately taking care of Dad.  But the denial had been about my father getting better.  We just thought that if we followed everything we're supposed to follow that he'll get better.  Or if something was messed up that day, like his meds or food, then that was the reason he was declining.  Unfortunately, when someone's body is shutting down, it can be affected negatively for no reason at all.  It's hard to let go of the feeling that you can do something.  And for us, food is the biggest place where we try to exert control.  It's that way for everyone because we see food as fuel, as nutrition, as the element that makes us stronger, as health. 

So I'm going to commit to being less in denial.  To doing what's in front of me and to making sure that he has as smooth and lovely a transition into his next life as possible.  Peace.  That's all I want for all of us.

Cleanse 2012: Take Two

The theme of my life currently seems to be: "Shedding Weight."

I'm letting go of the things that are holding me down: beliefs, emotions, bad ways of communicating.  I need to cleanse myself again, not just for health this time.  When I tried the cleanse earlier this year it was only to repeat the health effects my cleanse last year had on me.  I tried to do it when I was travelling.  I wasn't committed.  IT didn't work.

Now it needs to be a spiritual, emotional cleansing as well.  My Dad is dying.  I have gained an extra 10 plus pounds in the past few months.  I need to get rid of that.  I need to take care of myself better.  I need to change my energy and focus.  I need to change the way people see me.  I need to change the way I see myself.  I need to be healthier.  I don't think I need to smoke any more, even occasionally.  I need to start running again and doing yoga.  I need to have a healthier balance.  I need to have a better relationship to my body.  I need to have a clearer focus.  I need to have clearer eyes.  I need to have clearer skin.  I need to just be better.

The Drummer is doing his own cleanse at the same time.  We decided that the cleanse will be our gifts to each other as we mark the milestone of one year together.  We just want to be better for each other. 

I'm ready for it.  I'm ready to make a plan.  I'm ready to organize myself and not just my father's health.

It's time.  It will be incredibly healing as I work on my father's transition to the end of his life.  I want to spend some time being quiet and reflective.

Life Marches On

Family tragedies might be happening.  Personal issues might abound.  Crazy shit might be occuring.  But the entertainment industry marches on. 

I am dealing with what might be my Father's final days or weeks or months and yet the deadlines for this year's TV studio sponsored writing fellowships are upon me.

Even though my Dad's dying, I still need to try to get my break in the industry.  It's a weird dichotomy.  And I'm admittedly ambivalent about it all.  I taught this year and was inspired by that.  I worked on these amazing plays for the Virginia Tech Shootings 5th Anniversary that were moving.  I wrote a great play this year already.  But I need a job.  I need a job that pays well.  I need to be working with people and I want to improve my personal writing skill set.  I need to exercise the muscle on a regular basis.  I'm also needing a break from all of the caretaking.  So even if Dad does last for a while longer, I can't just be his caretaker.  My Mom has to take some of that on as well.  Not that she hasn't, but she hasn't had to in the capacity that she really needs to. 

I'm also being forced into the adult role of person who won't have both parents living very soon.  And it's just time for me to step up as an adult in my professional life.  So many changes have occured in the past 1 1/2 years since I broke up with my Ex and I feel like it's leading towards me taking charge of my life in a way I haven't had to.  It's not like I haven't done things or moved to cities or initiated change in my life before.  But this is different.  I can't just be treated like someone's child anymore because I  will no longer have both people who made me their child anymore. 

I keep saying that the break up has changed me and made me a better person and writer.  And I know that the teaching has made me a better writer.  And I know that my father's imminent passing will do the same.  I'm ready to see what that looks like in my life and how that manifests itself. 

I am ready for change.

Thoughts from my 22 year old self

This is something I wrote as a part of my senior poetry/dance project in college about mobilizing the forces.  It's interesting how not much has changed in how I approach my work.  Enjoy.

Why aren’t students constantly producing original work? It isn’t for lack of space, need or interest.  If learning is the priority at this university and if professors want to see their students grow and develop in their four years here, then students need to have as many opportunities to learn as possible.  And if we are unhappy about the lack of focus of our particular departments, then the focus needs to be redirected back to our needs.  We must take initiative and produce work that comes from our needs and experiences.  Our creative work speaks louder than any complaint concerning lack of opportunity to perform or create work separate from department-sponsored events or productions.

And we must voice our need for more opportunities to explore our potential and expand the range of what we are capable of doing.  We need to ask our professors, who have an abundance of experience and knowledge, to challenge us constantly.  I am lucky because I know people who care about my growth as an artist and support my efforts.  I have professors who call me at home to make sure I am doing all right and not stressing out over projects like this.  But I had to approach them first.  I asked questions both inside and outside the classroom.  For example, I bugged Erik Ehn constantly in the green room, in Joe’s office, in Libby’s office, on his way into meetings—I think you get what I mean.  We must insist that our professors challenge us.  

If we want the arts to be more influential on this campus, we need to produce our own work and promote ourselves and the efforts of other student artists (those involved in visual art, music, dance, theatre and creative writing) working on this campus.  We need to talk to our professors and ask them to come see our work and critique it.  We can’t be afraid to blow our own horns when we get together to produce original work not directly affiliated with a department.

The work is not easy, and the process is always frustrating.  We cannot wait for the administration to take notice and provide us with the facilities we need.  We have to commit ourselves to making these learning experiences happen given the facilities and resources we have now.  Art can happen anywhere.

So get a group of people together and write something.  Find a space—a lawn, a sidewalk, the Brass Rail, the Rehearsal Hall—and (as Erik Ehn would say) “make it happen.”  We need to help develop our craft by exploring new possibilities and reaching new audiences.  The only way to do that is to practice the craft constantly.  If we always work on new projects we contribute  to a common, fresh energy that keeps the arts thriving everywhere, not just on this campus.  We cannot wait for opportunities to arrive, hoping that someone will someday discover our artistic genius.

Theatre is happening right here and now with all of you reading this in preparation to see this production.  There are no special lights or cushioned seats or state-of-the-art sound system or super-experienced performers.  We all created this.  Our production comes to you courtesy of risk, imagination, and desire.

Staycation

The Drummer is out of town this weekend with a friend.  They are road tripping to Arizona.  At first when he told me he was going, I kind of got pissed.  With everything going on with my family, I had this fantasy of spending time with him on Memorial Day.  Trust me, it would have been great.  I would have loved to have spent some time with him.  But I haven't exactly had time to get away and just take off, although I did drive up to Northern CA by myself last weekend (he was supposed to go, but forgot that he had a few gigs that weekend).  Then when he mentioned this trip very non chalantly, I lost my shit. I was annoyed that he was going away with someone else.  But he mentioned that my schedule had been crazy and that I was going away by myself.  Although let the record show that it was supposed to be the two of us, but he remembered that he had these gigs.

And he reminded me that I had these writing projects.  And I think he just wanted to get away.  I wish he had just been a bit more straight up because then he got on this train of thought saying that he had mentioned it to me.  I really don't respond to that sort of passive aggressive talk.  He knew he didn't mention it to me and I called him on it.  But when I got over my anger about it, I thought about the fact that I would have no obligation to anyone other than my Dad for a few days. 

He just left a couple of hours ago.  And I'm in our bed and really happy he's not here.  I have been feeling so neglectful of our relationship because I've been dealing with my Father's illness.  And I really have a shit ton of work to get done (which is why I'm blogging, obviously).  I love my boyfriend.  I think he might truly be one of the kindness people I've ever met.  And I love sleeping next to him. . But all of that wonderfulness is distracting.  It feels so much better to be around him and to suck his dick than it does to create some fantastic script out of the ether.  But if I can't have the dick, then I might as well be productive.  Although we did make up for it earlier by fucking like crazy and going though four different positions.  In the morning.  That should hold both of us over until Sunday.

So I'm going to get up early, which I always do when I'm by myself.  And I'm going to write. . And get a work out in and maybe go to the spa.  I'll probably go to bed relatively early tonight so that I'm refreshed.  I'm trying to be good to myself by sleeping as much as I can.  I feel like sleep completely changes my perspective of life.  Life seems hopeless if I'm sleep deprived.  What a difference an extra hour or two can make a night.  It feels good to give that gift to myself.

Then on Friday through Sunday when I don't have to be with my Dad as much, I can just luxuriate in having time to get my writing done.  I'm not one of those writers who talks about writing and doesn't write.  I just wrote a new play in three months. I'm writing this TV sample and then I'm going to write more TV stuff.  I like to keep a healthy amount of diet and exercise in my routine.  When it comes to being creative my diet is all the stuff I'm reading and watching. . It's my fuel.  And my exercise is my writing.  As long as I keep on my regimen of diet and exercise, I'm good to go.

Can't wait for my staycation.  I'll be romancing myself plenty.

Before I Start Throwing Things

It's a real struggle to deal with my father's health issues.  I feel like I'm climbing an uphill battle with his resistance to change, with his reluctance to eat better, and with his desire for things to remain the same.  However, the big struggle I'm having right now is with my Mother.  My brother and I are aware of my Father's condition, his medication, his diet and the things he needs to do to maintain a level of comfort.  He's never going to be well or cured.  But I think we could give him some good care in his final days, however long those final days will extend.  But in order to do that, I feel that we need to maintain a certain level of health and that enjoyment of food doesn't need to be a daily diet of fat, red meat, cheesy, deep friend goodness.  It can be fresh and flavorful yet light and healthy.  It can be robust without busting a gut. 

I can't do that without my Mother's support and she feels like giving my father comfort solely involves indulging him.  But it's not just indulging him, it's being afraid of him, of not doing the right thing, of having regret.  Her actions are based in fear.  I just ask that she monitors certain things so that we can indulge him and not feel guilty.  She shouldn't take him to the supermarket so he can look at all the things he can't have.  She shouldn't over tax him by asking him to walk around the supermarket.  It seems that everything I ask her help in doesn't get done.  It actually gets ignored. 

Today I lost my shit.  I was out of town this weekend and I didn't ask too many questions about what happened or didn't happen when I was gone.  Frankly, I didn't want to think about it.  I don't have time to worry about it because I've got another script to finish.  I wanted to focus on seeing my students and catching up with people.  I just needed some space.  And I had that.  So today when my father said he was hungry and wanted something else to eat, I had to hunt around the house for food.  My mother didn't do any grocery shopping when I was gone.  I figured that she didn't leave the house because she knew it would be too tempting for my father to be around food and that she didn't want to wear him out.  My father asked for hot dogs, which I knew were too high in sodium.  So I went out to the garage where my parents have a second refrigerator.  I checked the hot dogs.  Yes, too high in sodium.  But then I hunted around.  There were some frozen burritos that weren't super high in sodium, but that had beans (bad for his gout) and/or potatoes (high in potassium).  I thought that maybe there were some turkey burgers he could have.  No, he didn't want those.

But as I was checking my parents other freezer, I realized that the burritos were new.  I asked my Mom why there were burritos in the freezer.  She said she got them for her lunch.  I told her that I still didn't think she should have anything that could possibly be tempting to my Dad and that those weren't good for her either.  I told my Dad what his options were.  He asked for canned corned beef.  No, I said. Then I realized that those burritos were new, they were bought while I was gone.  I confronted my Mother and asked her when she went to the supermarket.  She had gone with my Dad to the supermarket yesterday to a store 30 minutes away from my parents house to get some things for him.  I saw red.  I explained to her that she went to the supermarket 30 minutes away and took my father when she could have taken him to a Ralph's or a Trader Joe's to get food for him that he could eat.  There weren't any healthy options, so he started asking about unhealthy options.  There was hardly any food period.  I didn't understand how she could have misused her time.  How she couldn't even pick up healthy options at this supermarket.  I was so livid and I knew that if I didn't get the hell out of there ASAP, then I was about to say several things I would regret.  So I left.  It was the kindest thing to do.

And maybe it's time to let my parents make their choices.  I have other things to do.  They are adults and are perfectly capable of knowing what is best for their personal well being.  I can't force anyone to see things my way.  If that's what they object to, if they would rather that I not give my opinion, then maybe it is time for me to step away from the situation. 

Happy Weight

When you've gained weight and happen to be in a great relationship, people say that you've gained "Happy Weight."  Happy weight.  Ugh.  I've probably gained 10 pounds since dating The Drummer.  I love him and it's terrific and all, but we're both a bit heavier than we'd like to be.  We're starting a cleanse after Memorial Day to get ourselves into shape.  It's going to be our gift to each other for our year anniversary.  We need to give ourselves the gift of great abs.  I'm feeling so not motivated lately at the gym.  I think I need to start running again.  I keep saying that, but I haven't gotten any more motivated lately.  It's about being active for me and not just being in a gym lifting something heavy over and over again.  I need to run and do yoga,  things that make me sweat.  And I need to go to the spa and I need to get massages and treat myself right.

I need my outside to reflect what I'm doing for myself on the inside.  I'm starting to cleanse myself of some pretty crappy behavior and beliefs.  It's time to cleanse my body of other toxins as well.  With all of my Dad's stuff, I've started being really careless about food again.  And it's an easy pattern to get into, disregard your own personal health because you're being someone's caretaker.  And food is comfort for me.  It's my friend.  It makes me feel good.  But I need to start changing some of that behavior.  Awareness is a beautiful thing. 

I also need more energy.  With all of the caretaking, I'm not getting as much sleep.  My sleep isn't as good as it has been.  I need my body to function more efficiently so that I can do everything I need to do.  I need to start therapy again. I know that so much is going on inside that I need to start processing that.  Therapy is very necessary.

The take away is that I'm seeking health.  I'm seeking out ways to make myself feel better.  Healthier.  I'm carrying extra weight around, extra personal baggage and I just want to shed it.  Yoga used to be highly therapeutic.  I think it could be that way for me again.  I'm feeling schlubby and I need to develop a plan to get out of that.  I want to be a powerful presence and it only takes a little effort to get there. 

Consider this "I'm Back 2.0."

Growing Up

As I've written on here recently, my father is dying.  It has taken me some time to come to terms with that. . And it does feel weird to say.  It feels weird to feel that, to truly understand that.  Yes, he moves around slowly and he's in hospice in my parents home.  He has an oxygen tank when he needs it.  We have a collection of pills that we need to dole out for him to maintain a sense of comfort.  But when I look at him, do I see a dying man?  No.  I see my father who is difficult, who has emotional pain he can't access and will probably not fully access before he passes.  I see the person who I tried to make proud my whole life.  I see the person who I am trying to disconnect from before he dies so it isn't so painful.  I know that last thing is impossible.  I know that what I am really disconnecting from is the role he has played in my life, the role that I have put him in.

From an early age, I was fully conscious of the fact that  I had been a disappointment.  I was the first-born son.  I think being the first born male child is important in our patriarchal culture.  I was every bit myself from day one and that contrasted with my father's expectations.  I'm pretty clear on that.  And that's why I tried with 100% effort every day of my life for so long to make him proud.  I wanted him to like me.  I wanted him to think I was a person worth loving, worth knowing and worth caring about.  I wanted him to be like me, open emotionally.  I wanted all of these things for so long, so it was a surprise when we had an argument the other day.

Here's the set up: My father has become highly demanding in recent  weeks.  He wants what he wants when he wants it.  And sometimes I can't give him what he wants right at that moment..  I try to be reasonable and explain to him that I will get to it when I'm done putting his pills in the pill box or washing his dishes or making meals for him.  But that's not good enough.  And my father can't let anything go.  So he said, "Even when you were a kid, I would ask you to do something and you said 'Yeah, yeah, yeah.'  It was always manana, manana.  You wonder why I'm always mad at you."  And my IMMEDIATE response was, "You know, Dad.  I don't really wonder.  Because it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter."  I didn't say it with anger, I said it as a fact.  Okay, maybe there was a little anger...or more accurately, frustration because I was in the middle of doing something.  But the frustration wasn't emotional and wasn't directed at the things I felt I didn't get as a child.  I didn't really think about the story as anything other than me just telling my Dad that I don't think about him being angry at me.

Then I had a conversation on the phone today as I was driving back to Los Angeles from Santa Clara, where I went to see my former students in a show there.  I was talking to my friend Dave, who was my theology professor in high school.  Dave has known me most of my life at this point.  And I told him about that conversation.  He asked me how I felt.  I said it felt healing.  But still, I didn't get the significance of that conversation.  I didn't get what it said about me.  It took me a second.  Then I got it.

It doesn't matter.  What my father thinks of me, feels about me doesn't matter.  For so much of my life it did matter.  It was the only thing that mattered.  And without realizing it or spending a lot of time in pensive thought, I suddenly had let it go.  There's this great song from Kander and Ebb's first musical, "Flora, the Red Menace" that's called "A Quiet Thing."  One of the lyrics is: "Happiness comes in on tip toe.  Well, what do ya know.  It's a quiet thing.  A very quiet thing."  That's how I felt today when I talked to Dave and realized that one of the things that was such an obstacle to me, the need to make my father proud, was suddenly gone.  It did not matter to me any more.  I don't know if I feel set free or this great sense of relief.  It's just a quiet thing.  A while ago I felt that I needed his approval and my whole being was wrapped up in it, now I feel differently.

I called this blog "I'm Back."  And I thought of ending the blog several times because I felt like I had gotten back.  I had arrived.  Around the year anniversary of the blog, I really thought that I had nothing to write about.  Not that my life had gotten "fixed", but I just felt like I was done writing about this subject and that it was time to move on and find another subject to tackle.  But I'm finding that I keep coming back to the idea of "I'm Back."  I keep coming back again to myself.  Today was a reminder of how I'm Back yet again.

Dave also said something important.  He said that it has been said that a son doesn't truly become a man until his father dies.  Because he can't truly be himself and that once the father dies, he is able to own who he is truly and authentically.  And I said to Dave that it would be surprising to many people I know that I haven't always been as self assured as I appear.  I remember having conversations with high school and grade school classmates as adults who all said that I seemed so confident and self possessed.  I know that the internal experience of myself was not that.  I wasn't the least bit self assured.  I was constantly doubtful.  But something in me always poked through and that was my authentic self.  I suppressed it and tried to put it away, but it always popped back up.  So Dave's response to that was that there must be something deeper, a deeper place of authenticity that will be released.  And I took that to mean that if I have this natural self-assurance, then it will either completely shine through or that there is more than I thought I had.  I also think that means that my true purpose will reveal itself.  And there's no better way to be back than that.  It is a very quiet thing, this release, but it is a quite powerful thing as well.

The Metaphor is True

Writing teachers love their cliches when it comes to the process of writing.

"It's like giving birth."

"You have to kill your babies."

Yes, it's true.  Writing is like giving birth.  You push really hard.  It's not ready to come out yet.  Then you have to keep pushing.  Despite your struggle, despite your pain, despite the fact that you want to give up.  You just have to push and push and push until it's out. 

That's what I'm in the middle of right now.  I'm pushing. I'm tired.  But I have a few more hours to push if I want to have a healthy fully formed baby by the time I get to rehearsal and not a deformed, half-baked one.

AGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look Straight Ahead

It's hard when you're already in a vulnerable place and you're writing your new play to read Twitter or websites that tell you what's happening with the rest of the world.

I have been adamant about not looking around...until the other day. 

I like to look at Perez Hilton just to get my mind off of things when I'm writing.  It's like mental gelato.  So I clicked on a link that gave an update on what TV pilots were hot this year and were likely to be picked up.  In a prior post, I mentioned that I'm intentionally out of the loop and that feels great.  Well, it only takes a second to find out what's going on and who's hustling and bustling and who's hot and who's not to start to feel inadequate. 

Then the Facebook friends are posting what shows they got picked up for.  Then Twitter friends are posting how great their rehearsals are going. 

And suddenly I find myself in that place of "what the hell am I doing?"  It's easy to crawl into that hole when you are already in the writing cave and all you have to do is to climb deeper into the cave to find that bottomless pit of despair and inadequacy.  Because that's where the entrance to that hole is...in the writing cave.  The writing cave is a vulnerable, lonely place because that's what it has to be in order for you to get the writing done.  When you're struggling with a scene or a character motivation or a plot line, it's easy to feel like you can't accomplish anything.  And it's not until you crawl out of the cave, into the light of day, that you know exactly what you have.  It may hurt your eyeballs with how ugly and misshapen it is.  Or it may cause you to squeal with delight at how beautiful and lovely it is.  But you don't know until you crawl out of the cave and you might not be able to crawl out of the writing cave if you fall into the bottomless pit. 

This goes back to the post I just posted, "Writing is Fighting."  You're constantly fighting with that insecure part of yourself because writing has to come from a place of confidence.  It doesn't always have to sound confident, but it takes that strength to even think that what's in your head is worth people listening to or seeing live on stage or paying money for or switching the channel for.  That's a lot of chutzpah. 

So I'm just going to keep my eyes akimbo and continue moving forward.  I'll give myself a little affirmation and then I'll just continue to work through this scene.  That's all I can do.

Writing Is Fighting

Ask any writer about the writing process and you'll always here the phrase:

"Writing is hard."

It's not like Barbie saying "Math is hard."  For writers who have an ability, who have training, who have been writing for most of their lives...writing is still hard.  For me, it's wrestling with parts of myself that I don't always want to expose. It's struggling to articulate beliefs I have.  I have to resist the temptation to just be clever or just show off what a great writer I am.  I want to be as honest as possible when I write and sometimes that's what's the most difficult. 

I can be clever.  I can get people to fall in love with me based on something I write. But when I write something and it forces someone to think or it represents a less than favorable opinion...that's where it gets tricky.

The Drummer and I celebrate ten months of being together today.  And on Sunday at my play reading, it will be the first time he has heard anything that I've written.  I'm not necessarily nervous about his opinion of my writing because I know the writing is good.  But I have to admit that even though my nervousness is minimal, I am more nervous about him coming to the reading than I've been about anyone else before.  Maybe because on some level I know that this will either prove to him that all of the sacrifice I've been making is worth it.  Not that it's up to him.  I know this struggle is worth it.  I don't have a regular job right now.  I'm living off of unemployment and I'm living with him right now part time.  The rest of the time I'm staying with my parents while I act as part time caretaker of my Dad who is in hospice at our family home.  It's a strange time.

The Drummer said to me months ago that I needed to take advantage of this time I have to write.  And I worry that I'm not taking advantage of it enough. That's my own noise.  I have always felt like I wasn't taking advantage of my opportunities enough, even when I was writing morning, noon and night.  And I'm doing that now.

I wake up in the morning around 6 or 7 and head to Starbucks.  My father's night time caretaker is with us until 10 AM.  So I can get 3 or 4 hours in straight away in the morning.  This is usually my time to wake up and return emails.  Then in the second half of this morning session, I get some writing done.  Then I run some errands for my Dad or I write more.  My Mother works nights, so she gets up from her nap around 10 AM.  So she's there to help him out if I'm working.  But otherwise I give her time to do her stuff.  Then I have an afternoon session.  Then I have to be with my Dad from 5-8 while my Mom takes her second nap before work.  At 8, I usually take off to Starbucks for another three hour session until they close at 11.  Our caretaker is there by 9 PM, so I've got time to work. 

The good thing is that I find the time to write.  The part I'm fighting with is that I have no time to myself that's not Dad time or writing time.  There are a few nights a week that I'm with the boyfriend.  I'm trying to get some gym time in three times a week.  I need to do more running.  I'm gaining weight and I'm not psyched about that. 

I'm focused, which is great. But I'm not feeling rested these days.  But I guess these things happen in cycles.  When I was teaching in the Fall, I wasn't getting as much writing done.  Now I'm able to get a shit load done.  And I've got more to do when I'm done with this play.  I'm trying not to think of what will happen as a result of this play.  I'm just trying to get the play done and then get the next thing done and then the next and then the next.

Writing is fighting.  And my knuckles are sore and bloody.