In Between Better and Gone

My Grandfather (Papa) is sick and he’s probably not going to be here much longer. It can be difficult being almost 3,000 miles away and not knowing what to say or do or even what to think or feel when your loved ones are hurting like that.

In conversation with my Da, I said, “You know, what’s the worst about it is when you can’t deal with it yet because you don’t yet know what you’re dealing with. If he were better, but still sick, then we would deal with that. If he were gone, then we would deal with that. It’s in between better and gone that I don’t know how to deal with.”

And when I hung up the phone, I realized how that idea sums up so many things in my life. Our relationships, our self-worth, our jobs, our finances, our health, and our hearts. So many things aren’t well, but they’re not dead yet. The relationship isn’t over, but it isn’t good. The job sucks the life from you, but at least you have a job. The money barely meets the needs, and only then because you gave up food to get that bill caught up.

It’s a hard place to be. I don’t know what else I wanted to say besides pointing that out, but there’s a lot of people who are there right now.

And I guess for the sake of saying it (to myself and to anyone else who might read this who can relate at all to what I’m talking about) — sometimes we get better. Sometimes everything turns around you actually win. Sometimes you don’t.

Everything could have happened very differently. You could have been in a thousand different situations, loved different people, chosen different jobs, lived in different towns, made different choices, and even lived an entirely different life. But you didn’t. You are where you are, squarely in the middle of the best and the worst of everything.

But you’re not alone. You’re not alone. If nothing else, I’m there too. And without starting to preach — I could make another few comments about who I’m certain is with us as well.

I’ve Been a Virgin for Three Years

“Composed in Spring, 2006. The events hinted at in this post spawned the entire blog series on this page entitled ‘30 Days’.”

Nate and I were heading into LA for the first time ever in our lives. The first exit we took was Burbank Blvd. And right there on the corner, gleaming like a beacon of hope and possibility — was the Virgin Megastore.

As a lark, I stepped in and asked for an application (which was promptly handed me by a very busy Jnet, who I’m sure was just trying to get rid of the annoying skinny guy with the bad T-shirt). I filled it out, turned it back in, annoyed Jnet some more, and ventured out into LA via Mobile Jesus.

When Lisa called me two weeks later for an interview, it began the second-most affecting experience of my LA life. (You gotta be kinda . . . special . . . to hear about the most affecting experience thus far) At any rate, I’m still convinced that I got the job because of my answer to her last question –

“What would you say to make me hire you over the dozen other applicants I have interviewed?” she asked, and I didn’t miss a beat. “I won’t ever give you any crap.” I got the call the next day.

I kept my promise (at least to three out of the four managers). But over the years, I steadily began to realize why Lisa never made the same promise to me when she hired me. It’s because working a steady job, no matter what it is, is guaranteed to give you TONS of pure, unfiltered, odorous crap.

Don’t get me wrong, part of why I’m still there isn’t just the steady paycheck, it’s also the experience I’ve gained. I’ve met friends there that I will keep for the rest of my life (though they may live miles away). I’ve met creative comrades of all kinds with whom I’ve made music, movies, and shared writing stories (yes, there are such things and no they aren’t as boring as you’d think). I’ve met women that I would have given anything to have them feel for me a tenth of what I felt for them. I currently live with someone who at first was just one more new hire.

I’ve made a few enemies (not very many at all, but they exist). I’ve had my neck on the line so much I’ve got a scar. I’ve been promoted, demoted, pushed around, stalked, intimidated, hit on, inspired, antagonized, encouraged, threatened, lied to, and talked about. I’ve chased thieves and caught them, Virgin Vice-Style. I’ve fought for my fellow employees with both customers and with other employees. I’ve met celebrities and, once even, mildly became one. I watched a roof cave in and saw how everything about your life can change in a split second. I have a story for every day I’ve ever worked there and for every story — a lesson.

But the hardest lesson I ever had to learn from Virgin came today. Today Virgin reminded me of the temporariness of this world. I wish I could go into all the gory details cause there’s some fascinating stories there, but I’ll leave it at this — we did what seemed impossible and we made them notice us. Careful what you wish for, they tell you and we never learn. As soon as they noticed us, they needed us, and they took our heads right off our necks, managing to replace it with one of their plastic mannequin ones.

I’m being real vague and that’s about 90% intentional. I do still work there, after all. And if you spoke to me earlier today, I was unreasonably upset, as were quite a few other people. I’m also being pretty melodramatic, but come on, you’ve read my other blogs. Get used to it.

Life is about transitions. As Virgin VPs would say — it’s part of the complete collection. And transitions are always difficult, even if they will eventually make things better for you. There’s only two types of things in the universe that never change: the divine and the dead. And since I am quite obivously neither, I’d better get used to that idea of change. Cause sometimes you’re on your way to pick up a box Star Wars DVDs when suddenly you’re slammed with an indoor waterfall. And you can’t say or do anything about it because in order to fight change, you’d better be divine or the more you resist it — the more you die.

But I was there today and I’ll be there Monday. And time’s got a funny way of making you forget everything about bad times except that they were bad. If nothing else, there’s that.

To…

(to Her — Maybe someday you’ll know)

It’s stunning how you can feel like everything and nothing all at once. I mean, I took the compliment gracefully — a polite thank you and a sheepish grin. But all the while I kept wishing you could see my heart, could see how willing I would be to share it with you.

Like when I told her she was beautiful, but she didn’t believe me. She believed him, though. And I would have thrown it all away just to make her smile each morning. There’s still that chance, but I can’t help but feel like a thief and a cheat if I take it. Those twists of fate get you sometimes.

She believed him though. And he was a liar. Some people you’re just ready to believe, I guess.

And the worst part is that all the complaints I have about their views of me, I cannot change in myself. I have looked in the face of a pure heart before and known it was not for me to share. I’ve met women who fit the profile to the letter, but I can’t arrest my own heart.

So why kick and scream when they look at me the same way? It is no formula. It is no calculation. You cannot map the emotions of romance with figures and odds. It is a matter of the eyes I think. Because there are those times when I look in her eyes and I’m gone. I’m totally gone.

In those moments, I believe I am a man. In those instances, I can do anything. Because her very presence in this world brings me to action. I’d give up ten thousand of my sunsets to know what she thinks when she looks at me, even if I won’t like the answer. And that may not be smart and it may not be balanced and it sure as the world ain’t fair — but I think it’s love.

Because love makes you alive. It doesn’t always make you happy and it isn’t always the easiest emotion to bear. But, it is the substance of who we are. Without it, we are dead — floating through a sea of pleasure and pain without purpose. With it, we rise above ourselves to meet all that we wish and dream and hope for.

So I’ll smile and be whoever she wants me to be, content that I was made a better man for her even knowing my name.

Loser

Well, it doesn’t make much sense to me, but not much ever really did. I was just expecting that VIP access to a world I didn’t belong in.

But when I woke up towards the end of a long, sleepless night, I realized that we ascribe to others not what we see them exhibit, but what we wish they would exhibit. (i.e. We want them to be what we’re not, and for some reason we’re convinced that they are.) What’s funny is that I caught you doing the same ridiculous thing to me. You just picked up on the whole scheme before I did and stopped shooting blanks.

For a while there I thought all I wanted was that one thing and for most of the moments of any given day, I was right. But that one thing wasn’t what I wanted . . . not what I really wanted. What I was seeking was affirmation, and you couldn’t give that to me even if you had cared enough to want to. Time to drive on, as the man said, cause it don’t mean nothing.

I feel like such a baby trying to forgive you for something you didn’t even do. As if it would make me feel any less like the fly who stepped right in the honey, stuck fast in sweet regret. We believe people are so mysterious and secretive — all the while we fear that we’re an open book. When the truth is that people know you as well as you want to be known. Your instincts take care of that without you.

So ring the bell. You go on back to your corner and I’ll leave the ring. This match is forfeit and my eye is cut up bad.

Besides, the judges are all yours anyway.