Or people talking about dead people. On You Tube.
Today, on the one month anniversary of my Dad's death, I ended up watching a lot of videos featuring people who had loved ones who died. I watched Jane Fonda talk about how On Golden Pond was her way of trying to find closure with her father, Henry Fonda.. I watched Paris Jackson talk about her father and what a great cook he was. I listened to Janet talk about Michael and how it all still seemed pretty fresh. David Burtka, Neil Patrick Harris' fiancee, was talking about his mother who had always wanted grandchildren and didn't live to see David and Neil's twins. Bobbi Kristina talked about how Whitney is still with her and telling her "I got you" from beyond the grave.
I guess I'm still looking for clues on how to handle all of this. Even though everyone's experience is different, it helps to hear about those experiences.
I watched all of that while procrastinating from working on this outline for this pilot I'm trying to get done. I finally finished the outline over the course of five hours. It's a lot of work, this writing. Now I'm procrastinating going to bed by typing this blog and will probably watch some more You Tube videos.
As much as it seems like the month has flown by, it also seems like he's been gone a year already. It's a weird sensation.
Something Bobbi Kristina said that resonated with me was that she feels her mother's presence more now than she did when she was alive. And I can definitely relate to that. I feel my Dad around me so much more than I did when he was alive. I guess that's nice because that means that he's always with me.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Beneath the Vanity Is...More Vanity?
So I shaved my head a month ago. I did it coinciding with my Father's death.
Side note: I say the phrase "My Father's Death" more than I thought I would. I guess it's better that it's replacing the phrase "my father's dying." But in the case of both phrases, it just helps me bring normalcy to my life. Something has changed and instead of being afraid of the change, it has helped me to just go with it.
I shaved my head for numerous reasons:
1) My Brother and I agreed to do it together;
2) I wanted to mark my Father's Death in some way;
3) It seemed spiritual in a way that wouldn't be offensive to my Dad. My Dad's family were Buddhists, even though he was raised Catholic and my father didn't like the Catholic Church anyway;
4) It was a reflection of the fact that I felt different. I changed irrevocably after my Dad died and it was a way for me to acknowledge that change. Plus, people would tell me that I looked so different and even though they might not know my Dad had just died or knew how to talk about it, it gave me support that they knew something had changed.
Later, I found out that it was a Buddhist thing specifically and that men shaved their heads after someone died to remove their vanity, since so much of our vanity is related to our hair.
That was definitely true for me. Confession: I think having long hair is a pain in the ass. My hair is thick and straight. When it gets too long, it starts to look like a wig. Once it gets so long that it hangs there, it's annoying because it's just hanging there. It's just flat and annoying. But everyone told me that I have such beautiful hair and told me never to cut it. I do have a nice head of hair, true. This is a fact I was unaware of growing up because my parents liked me to have it short and my hair short is bad. It's spiky and unruly.
In college, I became the guy with the hair. When I had to cut it for a show I did, people were in shock that I would cut my hair off. Ever since then it became this thing: people LOVE my hair. I always get complements on it.
But something funny has happened...
I shaved my head ,thinking that I was removing my vanity and doing something intensely personal, spiritual and ancestral. But now people love the shaved head!
Two of my closest friends, Steve and Victor, a gay couple--who are VERY style conscious-- said, "Why didn't we think of this before?" I love that they are close enough to believe they are my stylists. It just means that we're family, which is awesomely sweet.
My friend Tim, who I hung out with last night, said that I have to keep it this way from now on. It's just the way my hair should look. He also said that I don't look older, but more mature. Like I grew up. And that's exactly how I feel.
When Alanna and I saw each other tonight, we were talking about the lack of vanity thing and she laughed. She said that it probably made me a little more vain once I started getting the reactions I did. And she's right. But at least I did it for very altrustic reasons. I do love it, however. And when I did it, I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize myself.
Now I look in the mirror and I know that the person I see is the person I have been becoming over the past two years since starting this blog. SO while I've felt like I was coming back to myself, now I feel like I'm truly at home in who I am and the person looking at me in the mirror is that person who has been waiting to emerge.
Side note: I say the phrase "My Father's Death" more than I thought I would. I guess it's better that it's replacing the phrase "my father's dying." But in the case of both phrases, it just helps me bring normalcy to my life. Something has changed and instead of being afraid of the change, it has helped me to just go with it.
I shaved my head for numerous reasons:
1) My Brother and I agreed to do it together;
2) I wanted to mark my Father's Death in some way;
3) It seemed spiritual in a way that wouldn't be offensive to my Dad. My Dad's family were Buddhists, even though he was raised Catholic and my father didn't like the Catholic Church anyway;
4) It was a reflection of the fact that I felt different. I changed irrevocably after my Dad died and it was a way for me to acknowledge that change. Plus, people would tell me that I looked so different and even though they might not know my Dad had just died or knew how to talk about it, it gave me support that they knew something had changed.
Later, I found out that it was a Buddhist thing specifically and that men shaved their heads after someone died to remove their vanity, since so much of our vanity is related to our hair.
That was definitely true for me. Confession: I think having long hair is a pain in the ass. My hair is thick and straight. When it gets too long, it starts to look like a wig. Once it gets so long that it hangs there, it's annoying because it's just hanging there. It's just flat and annoying. But everyone told me that I have such beautiful hair and told me never to cut it. I do have a nice head of hair, true. This is a fact I was unaware of growing up because my parents liked me to have it short and my hair short is bad. It's spiky and unruly.
In college, I became the guy with the hair. When I had to cut it for a show I did, people were in shock that I would cut my hair off. Ever since then it became this thing: people LOVE my hair. I always get complements on it.
But something funny has happened...
I shaved my head ,thinking that I was removing my vanity and doing something intensely personal, spiritual and ancestral. But now people love the shaved head!
Two of my closest friends, Steve and Victor, a gay couple--who are VERY style conscious-- said, "Why didn't we think of this before?" I love that they are close enough to believe they are my stylists. It just means that we're family, which is awesomely sweet.
My friend Tim, who I hung out with last night, said that I have to keep it this way from now on. It's just the way my hair should look. He also said that I don't look older, but more mature. Like I grew up. And that's exactly how I feel.
When Alanna and I saw each other tonight, we were talking about the lack of vanity thing and she laughed. She said that it probably made me a little more vain once I started getting the reactions I did. And she's right. But at least I did it for very altrustic reasons. I do love it, however. And when I did it, I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize myself.
Now I look in the mirror and I know that the person I see is the person I have been becoming over the past two years since starting this blog. SO while I've felt like I was coming back to myself, now I feel like I'm truly at home in who I am and the person looking at me in the mirror is that person who has been waiting to emerge.
My Current Theraputic Regimen
Mondays and Wednesdays: Michael Allen's hip hop class.
Tuesdays and Thursdays: Jeremy's yoga class
Tuesday: Bereavement counseling
Sunday: Therapy (although that may change)
I'm eating better.
I'm sleeping.
I'm writing every day.
I'm having sex with my boyfriend.
I'm seeing my Mom several times a week.
I go to the Korean Spa once a week.
I see my friend Larry once a week to catch up about our writing.
I'm rehearing for a one act musical I'm writing.
I'm reading.
I'm doing things for myself that make me feel rested, protected, enriched, enlivened, and introspective. These are the things that I'm doing for myself.
Sometimes it's about getting in my head and sometimes it's not.
Sometimes it's about doing and being.
Tuesdays and Thursdays: Jeremy's yoga class
Tuesday: Bereavement counseling
Sunday: Therapy (although that may change)
I'm eating better.
I'm sleeping.
I'm writing every day.
I'm having sex with my boyfriend.
I'm seeing my Mom several times a week.
I go to the Korean Spa once a week.
I see my friend Larry once a week to catch up about our writing.
I'm rehearing for a one act musical I'm writing.
I'm reading.
I'm doing things for myself that make me feel rested, protected, enriched, enlivened, and introspective. These are the things that I'm doing for myself.
Sometimes it's about getting in my head and sometimes it's not.
Sometimes it's about doing and being.
I'm Thinking About Dumping my Therapist
I have this problem...
Isn't that where it all starts? "Doc, I have this problem." My problem is that I have a hard time acknowledging that a relationship isn't right for me. My relationship with my Father was bad, yet I was always searching for his approval. My relationship with my last Ex was dysfunctional and he talked down to me and he verbally abused me, but yet again I wanted it to work and his approval meant that I was okay. I had a horrible job that I hated and I stayed for years. I just got into these patterns where I was afraid to leave because I was afraid I'd be lost. Even though these relationships were bad for me, I wasn't sure who I was without them.
This brings me to my therapist. I decided that I would start therapy after my Dad died. I wanted some help walking through the mourning process. I'm trying to diminish the hurt and the pain that I know will eventually come in full force. Truth is, no one can avoid that and I need to stop trying to control every situation. I was originally supposed to start therapy the day before my Dad died. Of course, I didn't know he'd die the next day. Actually, I thought he could die at any minute and I cancelled that appointment. Then I met him that following week.
I wasn't feeling it from the get go. I didn't like that he just stared at me, like he was waiting for me to start. I didn't like that he didn't say much and let me do all the talking. I didn't like that he didn't ask me why I was coming to therapy. He didn't seem to acknowledge that it might be hard for me to talk. Truth is, it's not that hard for me to talk. I had requested a gay therapist and this guy is gay and older. I am not attracted to this man, but I have Daddy issues as it is. So I immediately felt disappointed by this person.
The logical response would be, "Well why don't you look at that? It's a possible pattern for you." And I agree, so that's why I went in for Week Two despite reservations. At this point, I thought I would give it a month and see where things go from there. In session two, I asked him if we could start out with some sort of ritual. He could ask me, "How are you?" I needed something to signifiy that we were beginning. Then he asks me why I need him to take care of me. I didn't like that. He questioned why I needed the ritual and I felt like I needed to speak up when things felt uncomfortable. I understand that he was trying to deliberately push some buttons to get something out of me. But I also felt like I saw too many wires. I saw the mechanics and the technique and I immediately started shutting down. I just started talking and while there was some good stuff that came out, I didn't feel a lot of trust there.
Yet I still went in for Session Three and I held on because 1) I said I'd do four sessions; and 2) I felt like some things did some out of it that seemed like issues I needed to look at. Plus, my bereavement counselor from the hospice care told me that I should consider sticking it out. That the therapist doesn't need to be good, but if you're getting something from it, maybe that's good. But I still don't think that I give what we talk about much thought after the session. It doesn't seem to have any lasting resonance with me. The only thing that has resonance was how uncomfortable I feel and maybe that is helpful, but I don't know.
So I had my third session with this guy and he did ask me how I was doing, which was nice. But the focus of the conversation really went towards how being gay affected so many things in my life. While this is true, he talked about how my father really rejected the gay in me. And he said something that stuck with me, but also gave me great pause. He suggested that sometimes people whose fathers are so opposed to their sons being gay are gay themselves. Then he quickly said that he wasn't inferring that my Dad was gay. But I felt pushed. I felt like he was trying to draw some conclusions that didn't feel right to me. But I talked to my bereavement counselor about it and he said that I shouldn't necessarily throw the baby out with the bathwater. Still I had doubts, but I went in for another session yesterday.
I will say that in the third session I cried. But even those tears felt manipulated a bit. I might have talked about how sad it was that my Dad didn't get the things I got. He had an emotionally distant mother and he married my Mom because he didn't want his kids to have a mother who was distant. But he didn't know how to be with a woman who was so in touch with her feelings, so the feeling of how difficult it was for him to be married to her really showed. I cried because he couldn't really open up.
So I went back to the fourth session because I had cried and I thought that maybe I was getting something out of it. We talked about how my Dad didn't want me to take dance lessons as a kid. I asked when I was seven if I could have lessons and they told me that they couldn't afford them. Then the next year my brother started playing soccer and they always seemed to have money for his sports. Even at seven, I understood that my Dad didn't want me to have dance lessons because I was gay. Then it seemed like the gay thing came up a lot. And that seemed to be the reason that my father rejected me. I don't think that's the whole story. I think my Dad had issues because I was so like my mother and so emotional and if he didn't know how to handle how emotional she was how could he expect to be good with me. Yes, the gay thing is mixed in with that, but it just seemed too easy. And it started to make me feel like being gay was the problem. And it felt like he wanted me to have this resentment of my father because of it. I don't think my Dad didn't like that I was gay, but this guy kept repeating it. He kept saying that I was deprived of something I really wanted. Well, that's true. But I don't necessarily think that being a writer is getting the silver medal. I could have been both. But there are too many "What Ifs". They are infinite and you can drive yourself mad with the "What If" dance.
I was thinking a lot earlier about whether I should stay with this guy or in therapy at all at this point. I was talking to my friend Alanna and I realized that maybe I'm not ready to talk about how shitty my Dad was. Maybe I just need to mourn his passing. And even though there were things about him that were shitty and I'm not one to sugarcoat that, it feels good not to be driven by that resentment. I spent so much of my life being driven by that resentment and we had some sort of resolution before he died. Maybe there are things that I need to go back to. But that time isn't now. I want to see how I feel in a few months. But for me, I'm enjoying not having that chip on my shoulder and even though it might not be true, I'm feeling that this therapist wants to put an even larger chip back up there.
Some good stuff has been brought up in those sessions, but I also feel like I'm being steered in a direction I don't need to go in or that I've moved past or that I might not be ready to head in yet.
And that's me knowing what's good for me. Just because someone is older, an "authority" and someone I'm paying doesn't mean they know more than I do.
I'm aware that it's good to acknowledge when someone pushes your buttons and that might be for a certain reason, but I don't think I'm there right now. I've spent a lot of my life being pushed down so that I can fight my way back up. And I'm not interested in any sort of fighting right now . I just want to be good to myself.
And that's okay.
Isn't that where it all starts? "Doc, I have this problem." My problem is that I have a hard time acknowledging that a relationship isn't right for me. My relationship with my Father was bad, yet I was always searching for his approval. My relationship with my last Ex was dysfunctional and he talked down to me and he verbally abused me, but yet again I wanted it to work and his approval meant that I was okay. I had a horrible job that I hated and I stayed for years. I just got into these patterns where I was afraid to leave because I was afraid I'd be lost. Even though these relationships were bad for me, I wasn't sure who I was without them.
This brings me to my therapist. I decided that I would start therapy after my Dad died. I wanted some help walking through the mourning process. I'm trying to diminish the hurt and the pain that I know will eventually come in full force. Truth is, no one can avoid that and I need to stop trying to control every situation. I was originally supposed to start therapy the day before my Dad died. Of course, I didn't know he'd die the next day. Actually, I thought he could die at any minute and I cancelled that appointment. Then I met him that following week.
I wasn't feeling it from the get go. I didn't like that he just stared at me, like he was waiting for me to start. I didn't like that he didn't say much and let me do all the talking. I didn't like that he didn't ask me why I was coming to therapy. He didn't seem to acknowledge that it might be hard for me to talk. Truth is, it's not that hard for me to talk. I had requested a gay therapist and this guy is gay and older. I am not attracted to this man, but I have Daddy issues as it is. So I immediately felt disappointed by this person.
The logical response would be, "Well why don't you look at that? It's a possible pattern for you." And I agree, so that's why I went in for Week Two despite reservations. At this point, I thought I would give it a month and see where things go from there. In session two, I asked him if we could start out with some sort of ritual. He could ask me, "How are you?" I needed something to signifiy that we were beginning. Then he asks me why I need him to take care of me. I didn't like that. He questioned why I needed the ritual and I felt like I needed to speak up when things felt uncomfortable. I understand that he was trying to deliberately push some buttons to get something out of me. But I also felt like I saw too many wires. I saw the mechanics and the technique and I immediately started shutting down. I just started talking and while there was some good stuff that came out, I didn't feel a lot of trust there.
Yet I still went in for Session Three and I held on because 1) I said I'd do four sessions; and 2) I felt like some things did some out of it that seemed like issues I needed to look at. Plus, my bereavement counselor from the hospice care told me that I should consider sticking it out. That the therapist doesn't need to be good, but if you're getting something from it, maybe that's good. But I still don't think that I give what we talk about much thought after the session. It doesn't seem to have any lasting resonance with me. The only thing that has resonance was how uncomfortable I feel and maybe that is helpful, but I don't know.
So I had my third session with this guy and he did ask me how I was doing, which was nice. But the focus of the conversation really went towards how being gay affected so many things in my life. While this is true, he talked about how my father really rejected the gay in me. And he said something that stuck with me, but also gave me great pause. He suggested that sometimes people whose fathers are so opposed to their sons being gay are gay themselves. Then he quickly said that he wasn't inferring that my Dad was gay. But I felt pushed. I felt like he was trying to draw some conclusions that didn't feel right to me. But I talked to my bereavement counselor about it and he said that I shouldn't necessarily throw the baby out with the bathwater. Still I had doubts, but I went in for another session yesterday.
I will say that in the third session I cried. But even those tears felt manipulated a bit. I might have talked about how sad it was that my Dad didn't get the things I got. He had an emotionally distant mother and he married my Mom because he didn't want his kids to have a mother who was distant. But he didn't know how to be with a woman who was so in touch with her feelings, so the feeling of how difficult it was for him to be married to her really showed. I cried because he couldn't really open up.
So I went back to the fourth session because I had cried and I thought that maybe I was getting something out of it. We talked about how my Dad didn't want me to take dance lessons as a kid. I asked when I was seven if I could have lessons and they told me that they couldn't afford them. Then the next year my brother started playing soccer and they always seemed to have money for his sports. Even at seven, I understood that my Dad didn't want me to have dance lessons because I was gay. Then it seemed like the gay thing came up a lot. And that seemed to be the reason that my father rejected me. I don't think that's the whole story. I think my Dad had issues because I was so like my mother and so emotional and if he didn't know how to handle how emotional she was how could he expect to be good with me. Yes, the gay thing is mixed in with that, but it just seemed too easy. And it started to make me feel like being gay was the problem. And it felt like he wanted me to have this resentment of my father because of it. I don't think my Dad didn't like that I was gay, but this guy kept repeating it. He kept saying that I was deprived of something I really wanted. Well, that's true. But I don't necessarily think that being a writer is getting the silver medal. I could have been both. But there are too many "What Ifs". They are infinite and you can drive yourself mad with the "What If" dance.
I was thinking a lot earlier about whether I should stay with this guy or in therapy at all at this point. I was talking to my friend Alanna and I realized that maybe I'm not ready to talk about how shitty my Dad was. Maybe I just need to mourn his passing. And even though there were things about him that were shitty and I'm not one to sugarcoat that, it feels good not to be driven by that resentment. I spent so much of my life being driven by that resentment and we had some sort of resolution before he died. Maybe there are things that I need to go back to. But that time isn't now. I want to see how I feel in a few months. But for me, I'm enjoying not having that chip on my shoulder and even though it might not be true, I'm feeling that this therapist wants to put an even larger chip back up there.
Some good stuff has been brought up in those sessions, but I also feel like I'm being steered in a direction I don't need to go in or that I've moved past or that I might not be ready to head in yet.
And that's me knowing what's good for me. Just because someone is older, an "authority" and someone I'm paying doesn't mean they know more than I do.
I'm aware that it's good to acknowledge when someone pushes your buttons and that might be for a certain reason, but I don't think I'm there right now. I've spent a lot of my life being pushed down so that I can fight my way back up. And I'm not interested in any sort of fighting right now . I just want to be good to myself.
And that's okay.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Patterns
During yoga today, today's thought was about patterns. What are the patterns we have in our lives and what can we do to go about changing them?
I feel like I'm focused on looking at those patters and finding ways to change. Both my break up with my Ex and my Father's illness and death made me focused on the role patterns play in my life. I have established certain patterns with people and I've repeated certain patterns throughout various relationships in my life.
One I happen to be exploring in therapy is this idea that I want people to take care of me. Mainly men. And it's not necessarily financial, although that has happened. But it is emotional. I want to feel safe so what I need you to do is ______________. That's how I've been rolling for most of my life.
And the theme that has been coming along with breaking these patterns is the idea of LET IT GO. Here's another place where that phrase applies.
I'm really trying to change a lot of things that have been established in my life. I suppose this is the time to do it, after two major life changes in the past two years. So to go from last Tuesday's lesson to focus on what responsibility we carry on our shoulders to today's pattern-acknowledging and breaking is great to help me get to the place in my life I want to be at.
So I'll spend a lot of time reflecting on my patterns this weekend. And maybe what new healthy patterns I want to establish for myself.
Like going to yoga.
Like writing every day.
Like writing consistently.
Like eating healthy.
Patterns mean that you have some sort of mindfulness about what you're doing and I'd like to have mindfulness in a healthy way.
I feel like I'm focused on looking at those patters and finding ways to change. Both my break up with my Ex and my Father's illness and death made me focused on the role patterns play in my life. I have established certain patterns with people and I've repeated certain patterns throughout various relationships in my life.
One I happen to be exploring in therapy is this idea that I want people to take care of me. Mainly men. And it's not necessarily financial, although that has happened. But it is emotional. I want to feel safe so what I need you to do is ______________. That's how I've been rolling for most of my life.
And the theme that has been coming along with breaking these patterns is the idea of LET IT GO. Here's another place where that phrase applies.
I'm really trying to change a lot of things that have been established in my life. I suppose this is the time to do it, after two major life changes in the past two years. So to go from last Tuesday's lesson to focus on what responsibility we carry on our shoulders to today's pattern-acknowledging and breaking is great to help me get to the place in my life I want to be at.
So I'll spend a lot of time reflecting on my patterns this weekend. And maybe what new healthy patterns I want to establish for myself.
Like going to yoga.
Like writing every day.
Like writing consistently.
Like eating healthy.
Patterns mean that you have some sort of mindfulness about what you're doing and I'd like to have mindfulness in a healthy way.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Feeling Lost
I have been feeling a bit out of body lately.
It's no real surprise. My Dad died three weeks ago. I have to keep saying it for it to feel real. And lately, I have been in a bit of a fog. My bereavement counselor says that it's because the grieving process is working its way through me.
I have a musical I'm supposed to be writing. I had an actor drop out. I'm trying to get a replacement and I have not been feeling it. I got back songs for this project that I wasn't in love with. And it was just difficult to think about fitting songs into an idea of mine. Or trying to write around these songs. My head had to wrap around it a bit.
Plus I"m supposed to be directing and running rehearsals as well. I can't tell you how much I have NOT been feeling that. It's going to be a great distraction and a great process. Once I get my head in the game. I thought for a moment that maybe this is too soon and maybe I'm pushing myself too soon. But too late. I've committed. And I love a challenge. I love theatre. I'm trying to find my place. So I have to give myself places to go. Places to be. It's when I don't have those places to be that I feel lost.
I'm at Starbucks right now near my Mom's house. I'm spending the night here tonight because I had counseling down here today. And my Boyfriend is recording tonight, so he won't be home until late. So I'm feeling a bit lost because I could go over there, but then it's just the same routine. I fall asleep. He gets home at 2 or 3 in the morning. We cuddle and then I get up to be productive in the morning, ruining his sleep. Or I stay in bed until 11 or 12 and ruin my productivity. I didn't feel like spending the mental energy on what to do.
It could just mean that I need a schedule. I need to go to the gym x times a week and to dance class x times and to yoga x times and to the spa x times and to my Mom's x times and I need to write x times and go to the library x times and go to the beach x times.
I want my life to be more open and free. I also need to get used to that.
It's no real surprise. My Dad died three weeks ago. I have to keep saying it for it to feel real. And lately, I have been in a bit of a fog. My bereavement counselor says that it's because the grieving process is working its way through me.
I have a musical I'm supposed to be writing. I had an actor drop out. I'm trying to get a replacement and I have not been feeling it. I got back songs for this project that I wasn't in love with. And it was just difficult to think about fitting songs into an idea of mine. Or trying to write around these songs. My head had to wrap around it a bit.
Plus I"m supposed to be directing and running rehearsals as well. I can't tell you how much I have NOT been feeling that. It's going to be a great distraction and a great process. Once I get my head in the game. I thought for a moment that maybe this is too soon and maybe I'm pushing myself too soon. But too late. I've committed. And I love a challenge. I love theatre. I'm trying to find my place. So I have to give myself places to go. Places to be. It's when I don't have those places to be that I feel lost.
I'm at Starbucks right now near my Mom's house. I'm spending the night here tonight because I had counseling down here today. And my Boyfriend is recording tonight, so he won't be home until late. So I'm feeling a bit lost because I could go over there, but then it's just the same routine. I fall asleep. He gets home at 2 or 3 in the morning. We cuddle and then I get up to be productive in the morning, ruining his sleep. Or I stay in bed until 11 or 12 and ruin my productivity. I didn't feel like spending the mental energy on what to do.
It could just mean that I need a schedule. I need to go to the gym x times a week and to dance class x times and to yoga x times and to the spa x times and to my Mom's x times and I need to write x times and go to the library x times and go to the beach x times.
I want my life to be more open and free. I also need to get used to that.
The Search for Signs of Intelligent Yogis in the Universe
I'm into taking care of myself lately.
I have to get back into a health regimen that feels right. To that end, I decided to go back to my old yoga studio in South Pasadena, Mission Street Yoga. Apparently, they were rocked by a scandal recently. The founder of anusara yoga apparently was having orgies or sex parties or was involving sex in his practice. Well, I used to go to Naked Yoga in West Hollywood hoping it would devolve into a sex party, but that never happened. So maybe this studio is my kind of place after all!
My instructor Natasha left a year ago to follow her guru in Berkeley. If you go back to old posts, you'll hear how great her lessons were to me. I adored her. But soon after I left because my Dad got sick and I just didn't have time to practice.
Then Dad died...you've been reading ALL about that. :)
And I decided that I needed to get into my yoga, my hip hop dance classes, and running. The running thing is becoming more of a challenge. I'm blaming the heat we're having in LA right now, but I need to get it together. However, I checked with Mission Street and realized I had some class credits I hadn't used yet, so I decided that it was time to check it all out.
I went to a class two weeks ago and I wasn't vibing with it. It felt too hard. Yoga is supposed to be strenuous, but when you are connecting the mind, body and spirit, you push to go deeper into your soul. So the physical effort describes your mental commitment and your spiritual deepening. But there was hardly any spirit in this woman's class. And it's fine. We all vibe with different things, right?
I had seen a class on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10:45 AM that I was interested in checking out and the guy didn't have a picture or a bio on the website. He was new. So that intrigued me as well.
A quick thing about me and yoga classes: I don't like when they are just about exercise and fitness. I have to go to a yoga class that is about the spiritual. I have to go into it focusing on an idea and then it makes sense to me. When I'm in a dance studio at LA Fitness and the instructor isn't going around doing corrections, it bugs the shit out of me. I also don't like most gym dance classes for this reason, but my guy Michael Allen's routines are so much fun, that doesn't bother me. And the environment for yoga classes at the gym doesn't do me right either. It needs to be serene. I took a Bikram yoga class once in Portland in a studio that was basically an old office space. There was wall to wall carpeting and weird office tiles on the ceiling. I've never been back to a Bikram class since.
Okay, so today I decide to go to this class. I walk in and Jeremy, the instructor, is talking to a woman about handstands and headstands. The conversation was giving me anxiety. Was I in the right place? I've been so patient with everyone lately--my therapist, my bereavement counselor, my boyfriend, my Mom, my managers--I didn't have much more patience to go around. But this guy was young, thin and gay. So I decided that I'd give him a shot.
He opens class talking about his conversation about headstands and handstands. He said he had been really obsessed with the upper body lately. Anything that happens from the shoulders on up. Okay...intrigued. Then he talked about the idea that we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. He asked us to think about responsibility and what we hold on to. All right, now I'm hooked. I have a theme. I have a physical action tied to an idea. I'm with you, Jeremy.
So we did a lot of work that focused on postures and opening up. How does it feel when our shoulders are hunched forward? How does it feel when we have our shoulders held back at our sides? How does it feel when our heart is forward and open, our palms are up and our shoulders are back? What does this project to the world?
What if we went out into the world in this totally receptive pose? I'm in it to win it, Jeremy. I'm totally there with you. My smile was as bright and open as my solar plexus was out in full display for all to see.
We did do our handstands. We did L pose. We started working towards headstands. Some people even did them.
I love when yoga practice is challenging and you do something you don't think you can do, but you're guided through it. I love when it's incremental and then we end up doing something that seems impossible or super difficult. That's when I feel alive. And I felt really alive today.
I also have been having my massage guy, Aaron work on my shoulders and upper body a lot during my massages. It's because of this pressure that I feel. The weight of the world.
I think I found my class. Deep breath. I needed that.
I have to get back into a health regimen that feels right. To that end, I decided to go back to my old yoga studio in South Pasadena, Mission Street Yoga. Apparently, they were rocked by a scandal recently. The founder of anusara yoga apparently was having orgies or sex parties or was involving sex in his practice. Well, I used to go to Naked Yoga in West Hollywood hoping it would devolve into a sex party, but that never happened. So maybe this studio is my kind of place after all!
My instructor Natasha left a year ago to follow her guru in Berkeley. If you go back to old posts, you'll hear how great her lessons were to me. I adored her. But soon after I left because my Dad got sick and I just didn't have time to practice.
Then Dad died...you've been reading ALL about that. :)
And I decided that I needed to get into my yoga, my hip hop dance classes, and running. The running thing is becoming more of a challenge. I'm blaming the heat we're having in LA right now, but I need to get it together. However, I checked with Mission Street and realized I had some class credits I hadn't used yet, so I decided that it was time to check it all out.
I went to a class two weeks ago and I wasn't vibing with it. It felt too hard. Yoga is supposed to be strenuous, but when you are connecting the mind, body and spirit, you push to go deeper into your soul. So the physical effort describes your mental commitment and your spiritual deepening. But there was hardly any spirit in this woman's class. And it's fine. We all vibe with different things, right?
I had seen a class on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10:45 AM that I was interested in checking out and the guy didn't have a picture or a bio on the website. He was new. So that intrigued me as well.
A quick thing about me and yoga classes: I don't like when they are just about exercise and fitness. I have to go to a yoga class that is about the spiritual. I have to go into it focusing on an idea and then it makes sense to me. When I'm in a dance studio at LA Fitness and the instructor isn't going around doing corrections, it bugs the shit out of me. I also don't like most gym dance classes for this reason, but my guy Michael Allen's routines are so much fun, that doesn't bother me. And the environment for yoga classes at the gym doesn't do me right either. It needs to be serene. I took a Bikram yoga class once in Portland in a studio that was basically an old office space. There was wall to wall carpeting and weird office tiles on the ceiling. I've never been back to a Bikram class since.
Okay, so today I decide to go to this class. I walk in and Jeremy, the instructor, is talking to a woman about handstands and headstands. The conversation was giving me anxiety. Was I in the right place? I've been so patient with everyone lately--my therapist, my bereavement counselor, my boyfriend, my Mom, my managers--I didn't have much more patience to go around. But this guy was young, thin and gay. So I decided that I'd give him a shot.
He opens class talking about his conversation about headstands and handstands. He said he had been really obsessed with the upper body lately. Anything that happens from the shoulders on up. Okay...intrigued. Then he talked about the idea that we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. He asked us to think about responsibility and what we hold on to. All right, now I'm hooked. I have a theme. I have a physical action tied to an idea. I'm with you, Jeremy.
So we did a lot of work that focused on postures and opening up. How does it feel when our shoulders are hunched forward? How does it feel when we have our shoulders held back at our sides? How does it feel when our heart is forward and open, our palms are up and our shoulders are back? What does this project to the world?
What if we went out into the world in this totally receptive pose? I'm in it to win it, Jeremy. I'm totally there with you. My smile was as bright and open as my solar plexus was out in full display for all to see.
We did do our handstands. We did L pose. We started working towards headstands. Some people even did them.
I love when yoga practice is challenging and you do something you don't think you can do, but you're guided through it. I love when it's incremental and then we end up doing something that seems impossible or super difficult. That's when I feel alive. And I felt really alive today.
I also have been having my massage guy, Aaron work on my shoulders and upper body a lot during my massages. It's because of this pressure that I feel. The weight of the world.
I think I found my class. Deep breath. I needed that.
Dream of Letting Go
I had an interesting dream last night.
I dreamt of letting go.
In my dream, my Mom was moving everything out of the house and having a bunch of people help get everything out. I threw a fit and started calling my Brother to get her to stop.
Then I had a thought: Just let it go. My serious objection must be there for a reason. Maybe it was there to teach me to let it all go.
That seems to be the theme of my life this year.
LET IT GO.
I let go of the expectations I had of my Father. I was at peace with him when he died.
I let go of my feeling that my Mother had to have her shit together and hold it together when I needed her. She was going through her own grief and at the moment my need to have her as a partner conflicted with her need to just let her emotions fly. I realized finally that I was doing fine. I didn't need her in that way.
I am trying to let go of this feeling that everyone needs to take care of me. My boyfriend is where he's at. He won't understand what I'm going through with my Dad until he loses one of his parents. And if he's there, I'll be there for him. Just like my friend Nicole was there for me in a way I wasn't able to be there for her when her Dad died last year.
I got mad that my Ex didn't make more of an effort in acknowledging my Dad's death. Again, I wanted him to take care of me. Even almost two years after our breakup. I have to let that go. It wasn't his job during our relationship, nor is it his job now. Especially not now.
I need to put that on post its and post them everywhere:
LET IT GO
I'll keep up with that mantra until it happens. I'm finding more and more to chip away at. Get rid of it.
I dreamt of letting go.
In my dream, my Mom was moving everything out of the house and having a bunch of people help get everything out. I threw a fit and started calling my Brother to get her to stop.
Then I had a thought: Just let it go. My serious objection must be there for a reason. Maybe it was there to teach me to let it all go.
That seems to be the theme of my life this year.
LET IT GO.
I let go of the expectations I had of my Father. I was at peace with him when he died.
I let go of my feeling that my Mother had to have her shit together and hold it together when I needed her. She was going through her own grief and at the moment my need to have her as a partner conflicted with her need to just let her emotions fly. I realized finally that I was doing fine. I didn't need her in that way.
I am trying to let go of this feeling that everyone needs to take care of me. My boyfriend is where he's at. He won't understand what I'm going through with my Dad until he loses one of his parents. And if he's there, I'll be there for him. Just like my friend Nicole was there for me in a way I wasn't able to be there for her when her Dad died last year.
I got mad that my Ex didn't make more of an effort in acknowledging my Dad's death. Again, I wanted him to take care of me. Even almost two years after our breakup. I have to let that go. It wasn't his job during our relationship, nor is it his job now. Especially not now.
I need to put that on post its and post them everywhere:
LET IT GO
I'll keep up with that mantra until it happens. I'm finding more and more to chip away at. Get rid of it.
Heirlooms
I keep finding these things that I do that I never really attributed to my Dad before. Actually, I take that back. I didn't realize that these are the things he would leave me as his legacy until now.
- I love a good baked potato with extra butter and especially extra chives.
- I order my steaks medium rare or medium when somewhere that's not a renowned steakhouse.
- Listening to waves crashing calms me.
- I always look for something on the menu I haven't tried before that sounds exciting.
- Pate. But with baguette, not with Ritz crackers as my Father liked it.
- I hate overcooked vegetables. They need to be crisp and bright.
- I never salt my food until I've tasted it.
- Nancy Wilson (the jazz singer, not the lead singer of Heart) - I used to listen to the Nancy Wilson greatest hits tape my Dad had all of the time.
- Yelling at people who are dumb.
- Directness.
- Eau Savage by Christian Dior
- Tight pants.
- Late night eating.
- Late nights.
- Camping.
- Weekend day trips that involve long car rides.
- Hole in the wall establishments.
- Cheap but good eats.
- The process of cooking.
I have gotten so used to saying what I've missed out from him during my whole life, but when I look back, I realize that I have a lot that he gave me that keeps him real, alive and present to me.
Oddly enough, I felt his absence from my life more when he was alive than I do now that he's gone.
- Being unorthodox.
That's another thing I got from Pops.
- I love a good baked potato with extra butter and especially extra chives.
- I order my steaks medium rare or medium when somewhere that's not a renowned steakhouse.
- Listening to waves crashing calms me.
- I always look for something on the menu I haven't tried before that sounds exciting.
- Pate. But with baguette, not with Ritz crackers as my Father liked it.
- I hate overcooked vegetables. They need to be crisp and bright.
- I never salt my food until I've tasted it.
- Nancy Wilson (the jazz singer, not the lead singer of Heart) - I used to listen to the Nancy Wilson greatest hits tape my Dad had all of the time.
- Yelling at people who are dumb.
- Directness.
- Eau Savage by Christian Dior
- Tight pants.
- Late night eating.
- Late nights.
- Camping.
- Weekend day trips that involve long car rides.
- Hole in the wall establishments.
- Cheap but good eats.
- The process of cooking.
I have gotten so used to saying what I've missed out from him during my whole life, but when I look back, I realize that I have a lot that he gave me that keeps him real, alive and present to me.
Oddly enough, I felt his absence from my life more when he was alive than I do now that he's gone.
- Being unorthodox.
That's another thing I got from Pops.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Melancholy Baby
After the past two days at the beach, remembering the fun times I had with my Dad there, I started to feel a bit melancholy.
This is the first time I really felt that way since he died almost three weeks ago.
I suppose it was just remembering the things he taught me as a kid, the ways he tried to bond with me. I think he stopped trying at a certain point or maybe I became too confusing. I distanced myself from him because I knew how different I was, so it was easier to just follow the current of my difference. Or my indifference, as it were.
I went to the Santa Fe Springs Library and used his card to rent some DVDs. I only use his card because he's got the senior citizen discount and isn't charged to rent DVDs. He was very big on this when he was alive. The Downey Library would charge him, even as a senior citizen. My Dad's frugality brings us close even in the afterlife. It's a nice little ritual I have whenever I'm down there visiting my Mom.
So I rented EVERY LITTLE STEP, the documentary about A CHORUS LINE, both the original and the recent revival. There's the Paul monologue about how his parents saw him in drag and at that moment, said good bye to him. Paul's father goes up to the stage manager and says, "You take care of my son." In the revival, Paul is played by an Asian guy. And he delivers the most heartbreaking version of this monologue. I was in a puddle of tears. I thought about my Dad and how that sounded like something that would come out of his mouth. And he kind of did that. I think at a certain point he saw me as this little effeminate boy who would flit about at my friend Alanna's house. Alanna's Mom loves telling this story about how they sat down and he told her that I was different. Sid looked at my Dad and told him that yes, I was different and that's what made me special. I remember that exact day so clearly because Sid told me that story not long after. I might have been 12 or 13. In that story, I was the drag queen, my Dad was the dad and Sid was the stage manager. And truthfully, they've taken care of me ever since.
I had the good fortune of being a part of my best friend's family who adopted their daughters' gay, strange, transexual, outlandish friends. From an early age, I knew I could go somewhere and completely be myself. It was a godsend.
So after watching the documentary, I had to get ready to meet my high school friend Jeff to go see a play in town. I showered and looked at myself in the mirror. I had gotten some good color. Yet, another reminder of my Dad. He loved to show off when he got some good color. And we were taught to be proud when we got Good Color. The Hawaiian born person's skin color is akin to how African Americans feel about Good Hair.
Then I went into my Mom's bedroom and got my father's favorite cologne, Eau Savage by Christian Dior. It's classic. It's their first men's fragrance and by far one of the best scents I've ever smelled. My Dad had great taste in scents. So I put some on and I felt a bit closer to him in that moment. It was a good moment. My Father had a sophistication and a straight forwardness that I've completely embodies, but in a different way than he did. But those are heirlooms that he's passed on to me.
I understand now what it means to appreciate something far more after it's gone. That doesn't mean that I have regret, it is just that my Father's prescence means something different to me now than it did during most of my life before he got sick. Now, that's a thought.
This is the first time I really felt that way since he died almost three weeks ago.
I suppose it was just remembering the things he taught me as a kid, the ways he tried to bond with me. I think he stopped trying at a certain point or maybe I became too confusing. I distanced myself from him because I knew how different I was, so it was easier to just follow the current of my difference. Or my indifference, as it were.
I went to the Santa Fe Springs Library and used his card to rent some DVDs. I only use his card because he's got the senior citizen discount and isn't charged to rent DVDs. He was very big on this when he was alive. The Downey Library would charge him, even as a senior citizen. My Dad's frugality brings us close even in the afterlife. It's a nice little ritual I have whenever I'm down there visiting my Mom.
So I rented EVERY LITTLE STEP, the documentary about A CHORUS LINE, both the original and the recent revival. There's the Paul monologue about how his parents saw him in drag and at that moment, said good bye to him. Paul's father goes up to the stage manager and says, "You take care of my son." In the revival, Paul is played by an Asian guy. And he delivers the most heartbreaking version of this monologue. I was in a puddle of tears. I thought about my Dad and how that sounded like something that would come out of his mouth. And he kind of did that. I think at a certain point he saw me as this little effeminate boy who would flit about at my friend Alanna's house. Alanna's Mom loves telling this story about how they sat down and he told her that I was different. Sid looked at my Dad and told him that yes, I was different and that's what made me special. I remember that exact day so clearly because Sid told me that story not long after. I might have been 12 or 13. In that story, I was the drag queen, my Dad was the dad and Sid was the stage manager. And truthfully, they've taken care of me ever since.
I had the good fortune of being a part of my best friend's family who adopted their daughters' gay, strange, transexual, outlandish friends. From an early age, I knew I could go somewhere and completely be myself. It was a godsend.
So after watching the documentary, I had to get ready to meet my high school friend Jeff to go see a play in town. I showered and looked at myself in the mirror. I had gotten some good color. Yet, another reminder of my Dad. He loved to show off when he got some good color. And we were taught to be proud when we got Good Color. The Hawaiian born person's skin color is akin to how African Americans feel about Good Hair.
Then I went into my Mom's bedroom and got my father's favorite cologne, Eau Savage by Christian Dior. It's classic. It's their first men's fragrance and by far one of the best scents I've ever smelled. My Dad had great taste in scents. So I put some on and I felt a bit closer to him in that moment. It was a good moment. My Father had a sophistication and a straight forwardness that I've completely embodies, but in a different way than he did. But those are heirlooms that he's passed on to me.
I understand now what it means to appreciate something far more after it's gone. That doesn't mean that I have regret, it is just that my Father's prescence means something different to me now than it did during most of my life before he got sick. Now, that's a thought.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Day at the Beach
This grieving process is no day at the beach (har, har). Or is it?
My Dad used to take us to the beach a lot when we were kids. It's a place he always found comfort in. It's because he grew up in Hawaii, as a surfer island boy. When I was young, my Dad loved to compare tans to see who was darker. Being dark and tan was seen as a sign of being like him, I suppose.
I love the beach too. I love the sound of the waves. I love the calmness I feel by being at the beach. But when I go to the beach, when I take my shirt off, I want to be somewhere I feel comfortable. So I've taken to going to West Beach in Laguna because it's "the gay beach." And I just feel more comfortable being nearly naked around my own people. It's just the way it is.
And I find the parade of speedos and other questionable swimwear entertaining.
I went to West Beach yesterday, which felt like a world away from my life is Los Angeles, even though it's only an hour away. I got there and I could park easily, which for me is a deciding factor on whether or not I'm venturing an hour away. When I got there no body was there. A few homely looking gays. But within 20 minutes, everyone descended. I guess 12 PM is the magic hour. And then it got a little busy. But it was a lot of fun. Lots of walks, lots of checking dudes out and lots of body surfing.
That's what Dad loved to do. Not the checking dudes out. But the body surfing. He taught me and my brother to body surf. IT was a lot of fun to get washed up in the waves and to remember all of the simple laughter I had growing up just going to the beach.
Simpler times. I looked totally ridiculous out there, but that was part of the fun.
My Dad used to take us to the beach a lot when we were kids. It's a place he always found comfort in. It's because he grew up in Hawaii, as a surfer island boy. When I was young, my Dad loved to compare tans to see who was darker. Being dark and tan was seen as a sign of being like him, I suppose.
I love the beach too. I love the sound of the waves. I love the calmness I feel by being at the beach. But when I go to the beach, when I take my shirt off, I want to be somewhere I feel comfortable. So I've taken to going to West Beach in Laguna because it's "the gay beach." And I just feel more comfortable being nearly naked around my own people. It's just the way it is.
And I find the parade of speedos and other questionable swimwear entertaining.
I went to West Beach yesterday, which felt like a world away from my life is Los Angeles, even though it's only an hour away. I got there and I could park easily, which for me is a deciding factor on whether or not I'm venturing an hour away. When I got there no body was there. A few homely looking gays. But within 20 minutes, everyone descended. I guess 12 PM is the magic hour. And then it got a little busy. But it was a lot of fun. Lots of walks, lots of checking dudes out and lots of body surfing.
That's what Dad loved to do. Not the checking dudes out. But the body surfing. He taught me and my brother to body surf. IT was a lot of fun to get washed up in the waves and to remember all of the simple laughter I had growing up just going to the beach.
Simpler times. I looked totally ridiculous out there, but that was part of the fun.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Another Goodbye
I got a phone call yesterday that my good friend, Mary Hanes, had passed away from ovarian cancer. Mary and her husband Ken were my bosses on a pilot they wrote for USA called "Eden." I was their right-hand person, you could say. They were the best bosses ever because they appreciated everything I did and had no problem telling me. This was a vast difference from my previous job.
I have to say that both Ken and Mary had a lot to do with me feeling better about myself post break up. I realized that I do have valuable qualities I bring to the table, both in business and in life. We were a little family for the five months we worked together. They valued my opinions, asked me to help them out in breaking some stories and always came to me whenever a writer was submitted to us to see what I felt. Our tastes matched and our values matched. It was a perfect match in terms of jobs.
I knew she was sick for a while. But she always forged ahead. In these two weeks since my Dad died, it's been a challenge to keep moving forward. But Mary always did. I knew things were bad when I got an email from Ken offering me condolences regarding my Dad that was signed from the two of them. Whenever we worked together, they would send me separate responses. Since I only heard from Ken, I knew she was too sick to even email me back.
I always admired how affectionate they were together and I assume that was true even before her illness. That was just the type of people they are. I will always think of Mary and her encouragement and generosity. Ken sent me an email today reminding me of how much Mary loved me and was looking forward to us working together again and having a long partnership. Even through his grieving, he's still as giving and generous as ever. That's just yet another way that they continue to inspire me.
I have to say that both Ken and Mary had a lot to do with me feeling better about myself post break up. I realized that I do have valuable qualities I bring to the table, both in business and in life. We were a little family for the five months we worked together. They valued my opinions, asked me to help them out in breaking some stories and always came to me whenever a writer was submitted to us to see what I felt. Our tastes matched and our values matched. It was a perfect match in terms of jobs.
I knew she was sick for a while. But she always forged ahead. In these two weeks since my Dad died, it's been a challenge to keep moving forward. But Mary always did. I knew things were bad when I got an email from Ken offering me condolences regarding my Dad that was signed from the two of them. Whenever we worked together, they would send me separate responses. Since I only heard from Ken, I knew she was too sick to even email me back.
I always admired how affectionate they were together and I assume that was true even before her illness. That was just the type of people they are. I will always think of Mary and her encouragement and generosity. Ken sent me an email today reminding me of how much Mary loved me and was looking forward to us working together again and having a long partnership. Even through his grieving, he's still as giving and generous as ever. That's just yet another way that they continue to inspire me.
Monday, August 6, 2012
What I'm Crying Over (other than my Father's recent death)
I had a therapy session yesterday with this new therapist. This is the second time I've seen him. We had this whole conversation about my need for control. It started out when I asked if he could formalize our sessions by asking a question. And he kind of challenged me on it, which I didn't appreciate it. I discussed my need for control in a time where there isn't control. And he said I was asking him to take care of me. Okay. I accept that. I would have appreciated it if he would have just done it and then used that as a jumping off point to discuss why I feel I need to speak up for my needs.
I do have a sincere need to take care of myself right now. I think that's perfectly okay and acceptable. I was obviously put off by the conversation.
But in that need I have for control, I've been crying over a lot of things lately. I cried about my grandmother in therapy yesterday. I told my coming out story to her and about how she (as a devout Catholic) told me that God doesn't make mistakes and that he made me gay for a reason. I've cried over episodes of Designing Women that I've been You Tubing. I watched The Help, which I hadn't seen before, and I cried over that. I've cried over Hugh Jackman's opening number from the 2009 Oscars.
I think I'm crying over those things to let some emotion out. It's like I'm trying to let out a little bit of emotion at a time. I don't know if this need for control is such a bad thing right now. I need structure and discipline and something I can count on right now. I don't need everything in my life to be a mystery to me. Honestly, I know that the sadness will come at some point. I don't know where or when or how. But I know it's coming. And I'm open to it. But I also want things around me that help me stay busy and active. It's not a distraction. But it's a vessel for me to focus my energy.
I felt like I was being criticized for that and I didn't like it. I know the tears about my Dad will come and I know they'll be at some point. But I'm not trying to force anything. I'm taking this experience moment to moment.
I do have a sincere need to take care of myself right now. I think that's perfectly okay and acceptable. I was obviously put off by the conversation.
But in that need I have for control, I've been crying over a lot of things lately. I cried about my grandmother in therapy yesterday. I told my coming out story to her and about how she (as a devout Catholic) told me that God doesn't make mistakes and that he made me gay for a reason. I've cried over episodes of Designing Women that I've been You Tubing. I watched The Help, which I hadn't seen before, and I cried over that. I've cried over Hugh Jackman's opening number from the 2009 Oscars.
I think I'm crying over those things to let some emotion out. It's like I'm trying to let out a little bit of emotion at a time. I don't know if this need for control is such a bad thing right now. I need structure and discipline and something I can count on right now. I don't need everything in my life to be a mystery to me. Honestly, I know that the sadness will come at some point. I don't know where or when or how. But I know it's coming. And I'm open to it. But I also want things around me that help me stay busy and active. It's not a distraction. But it's a vessel for me to focus my energy.
I felt like I was being criticized for that and I didn't like it. I know the tears about my Dad will come and I know they'll be at some point. But I'm not trying to force anything. I'm taking this experience moment to moment.
Writing is Fundamental
One of the things my Dad would be proud of during this whole year of his illness and then his death would be that I managed to stay busy and productive. I had a 3 week play workshop when he first got sick and went to the hospital. That kept me going. I've also written another full length play, a sample of GLEE, and I'm finishing a new pilot this week, starting a one act musical which I have to write in three weeks and then I'm on to the next pilot. That should take me to the Fall. This is turning out to be the most productive year I've had ever. But it fills me with purpose, not only to be productive but to survive.
I'm heading straight on into the next phase of my life with full speed.
I have always tried to write with some intention. I have a hard time working out just for the sake of vanity and I have the same problem with writing just for the sake of career advancement. I think both are necessary when they are combined with some sense of greater purpose. I write because it's how I make sense of the world. It's what I did when I was 12 and it's what I've been doing ever since. My writing is truer to my authentic self when that's the case.
I'm writing this pilot about women in the later stages of their lives because I'm concerned and interested in how my Mother is going to handle this next stage of her life after my Dad died. And I'm inspired by another woman in my life, my best friend Alanna's mom. She's been like a second mother to me most of my life. And she's kind of at the other spectrum of things. My mother is overly maternal and Sid is the bold, authoritative, intelligent woman who's the opposite of that. Sid's still maternal and my mother is incredibly intuitive, but the combination for me has represented a certain kind of completeness.
The play I wrote was about open marriage and the nature of fidelity and honesty. I relate to that because of my relationship with the Drummer. When we decided to be more open in our relationship at the beginning, I had a bunch of questions. And I got to explore those questions in my play.
The GLEE sample was about trying to get a job, but it was essentially about artistic integrity, which is of great concern to me. And it was a Prince tribute, so it was also about sexual expression. Both two things which I'm absolutely in love with.
I have no idea what this musical is going to be about. I get three songs back tomorrow so I can start thinking about what the play's going to be about.
And the other pilot, will be inspired by some other piece of great literature. Something I relate to, I suppose.
It all has to relate in some way. It all has to teach me something about myself. It all has to have an engine that makes me want to sit down and write and write and write even though it's gorgeous outside.
I'm heading straight on into the next phase of my life with full speed.
I have always tried to write with some intention. I have a hard time working out just for the sake of vanity and I have the same problem with writing just for the sake of career advancement. I think both are necessary when they are combined with some sense of greater purpose. I write because it's how I make sense of the world. It's what I did when I was 12 and it's what I've been doing ever since. My writing is truer to my authentic self when that's the case.
I'm writing this pilot about women in the later stages of their lives because I'm concerned and interested in how my Mother is going to handle this next stage of her life after my Dad died. And I'm inspired by another woman in my life, my best friend Alanna's mom. She's been like a second mother to me most of my life. And she's kind of at the other spectrum of things. My mother is overly maternal and Sid is the bold, authoritative, intelligent woman who's the opposite of that. Sid's still maternal and my mother is incredibly intuitive, but the combination for me has represented a certain kind of completeness.
The play I wrote was about open marriage and the nature of fidelity and honesty. I relate to that because of my relationship with the Drummer. When we decided to be more open in our relationship at the beginning, I had a bunch of questions. And I got to explore those questions in my play.
The GLEE sample was about trying to get a job, but it was essentially about artistic integrity, which is of great concern to me. And it was a Prince tribute, so it was also about sexual expression. Both two things which I'm absolutely in love with.
I have no idea what this musical is going to be about. I get three songs back tomorrow so I can start thinking about what the play's going to be about.
And the other pilot, will be inspired by some other piece of great literature. Something I relate to, I suppose.
It all has to relate in some way. It all has to teach me something about myself. It all has to have an engine that makes me want to sit down and write and write and write even though it's gorgeous outside.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Decisions, Decisions
I'm a theatre boy, through and through. I'm housesitting for my friends in Santa Monica and I've been using their place as a bit of a writer's retreat. So far I have 20 pages of a new pilot done that I'm supposed to have finished by Tuesday. I think that can happen.
Well, I decided that I was going to see this play last night that I had been hearing about. I also knew that a bunch of theatre folks I need to be in touch with were going to be there as well. So at 6 PM I decided that I'd better go. But then I also figured I should get some work done. Then I wasn't feeling it. I was tired. I was trying to save money. I made a bunch of excuses why I shouldn't go. Then I started writing the pages that had been eluding me all day. This is a sign, I thought. Then around 7:15 I figured I wasn't going to go because I had been on a roll. At around 7:28, with no juice left and five pages written in the past 45 minutes, I decided that I might as well head out the door and get distracted. It wasn't far away and if there weren't tickets left, I would just go back to Santa Monica.
I show up at the Box Office at 7:45 and order a ticket. Then I look behind me and see my high school buddy, Jeff, who I last saw at our reunion. Kismet! So we decide to sit together. And then I walk into the lobby and see a bunch of theatre pals, some of whom I knew I'd see and others who were a surprise. And some new faces as well. It felt like community, which I love.
The show was good. It was a lot of fun and good energy. But the best part was just catching up with old pals. Jeff and I made plans to see a play the following week. My friend Kelly and I made plans to grab lunch when I'm in her neck of the woods. She also invited me to a workshop they're doing at her theatre. All in all good stuff. And five pages, which became six when I got home is good for a whole day's work. I got that done, in total, in about 90 minutes.
Plus, all of that socializing left me motivated for today. So I'm happy about that as well. Let's see what happens today.
Well, I decided that I was going to see this play last night that I had been hearing about. I also knew that a bunch of theatre folks I need to be in touch with were going to be there as well. So at 6 PM I decided that I'd better go. But then I also figured I should get some work done. Then I wasn't feeling it. I was tired. I was trying to save money. I made a bunch of excuses why I shouldn't go. Then I started writing the pages that had been eluding me all day. This is a sign, I thought. Then around 7:15 I figured I wasn't going to go because I had been on a roll. At around 7:28, with no juice left and five pages written in the past 45 minutes, I decided that I might as well head out the door and get distracted. It wasn't far away and if there weren't tickets left, I would just go back to Santa Monica.
I show up at the Box Office at 7:45 and order a ticket. Then I look behind me and see my high school buddy, Jeff, who I last saw at our reunion. Kismet! So we decide to sit together. And then I walk into the lobby and see a bunch of theatre pals, some of whom I knew I'd see and others who were a surprise. And some new faces as well. It felt like community, which I love.
The show was good. It was a lot of fun and good energy. But the best part was just catching up with old pals. Jeff and I made plans to see a play the following week. My friend Kelly and I made plans to grab lunch when I'm in her neck of the woods. She also invited me to a workshop they're doing at her theatre. All in all good stuff. And five pages, which became six when I got home is good for a whole day's work. I got that done, in total, in about 90 minutes.
Plus, all of that socializing left me motivated for today. So I'm happy about that as well. Let's see what happens today.
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