As I sat down to work on this blog I grappled with one of the toughest questions any writer must confront at some point, the dread “what the fuck should I write about?” My blank notebook, thirsty for the smooth, black, gel ink from my Pilot pen lay before me, taunting me, daring me to write something, anything. Though I recognize my notebook is inanimate, somehow it still felt as if the blank page was some sort of dig at my also blank mind.
I write things longhand first. One, I like the way the ink feels flowing out of my pen and two, it allows me to make revisions quicker when I type it up on my computer. I also listen to music when I write; it helps me get into a rhythm, tugs gently at my self-conscious subconscious, persuading my unpleasant troll of a muse to put in an appearance. Sometimes the little bastard needs a heavy chain and a winch, but music usually does the trick. Some nights it’s Alice in Chains or Pearl Jam, other nights he feels more like listening to Metallica or Motorhead. This particular night it just happened to be Seven Mary Three. Yes, I do enjoy listening to 7M3. For whatever reason I really dig their lyrics and their sound. The other guy likes them too and he’s the one that helps me write this stuff. I’ve dealt with it, so can you, Dear Reader.
7M3’s song Strangely at Home Here came on at just the right moment and after the first verse the muse was helping me scrawl out what I was really feeling over the past month and a half. Strangely at Home Here seems fitting for this new adventure we find ourselves on – our little family. There is a comfort in our “not so new” house, something familiar, right. One of the verses from the song goes:
“There’s no remember whens
When the jukebox spins
Sad songs in the summertime
The heat is an overture of need on the inside
Heat is an overture of need on the inside”
For a long time, whenever I would listen to a “sad song” on my phone or computer, I would feel a darkness close in on me and I would wrestle in pointless desperation against anxiety and depression. Though I never contemplated suicide, I often questioned whether anyone besides my family and a handful of close friends would miss me, if this world would even miss a beat? In those days of darkness, and they would last days for me, I came as close to losing hope as anyone could, but somehow, I found a way to hang on…or Michelle hung on for me.
Though the darkness has faded and the sad songs don’t send me into a fit of despair and self-loathing, I still have tough days. Instead, when I hear those songs I look at them as a gift, a reminder of how far I fell, how close I came to giving up hope. I gained a lot of weight, I lost a lot of weight, I collected a ton of shit I probably didn’t need, but somehow I found a way to “Just go grimly on!” as Tennyson would say.
I did not get to this point alone. My everything, Michelle and Dominic, didn’t do it alone either. I would have been lost without some underappreciated people: “EEK” from Illinois, the “Oose Crew”, a friend I call “Hemingway”, my mother in law, and a shitload of rum. I owe them all more than I ever could repay.
I feel like a lost soul most of the time. I’ve been like this my whole life with few exceptions. When I’m with Michelle and Dominic, everything fits. I’m where I was meant to be – by their side and happy. When I’m on set blocking a scene, working with a crew to make a movie, all of the pieces fit; they make sense. The noise fades away, I can be present, there is no darkness.
I’m saddened that we had to sell our home of 11 years. I was, and on some level still am heartbroken at that reality. At the same time I am thankful we were in a position to get ourselves out of a tight spot and make a new home for ourselves and more importantly, our son. We are moving on, moving forward, and doing the best we can.
Pearl Jam’s Release is playing now. It’s probably my favorite song by Pearl Jam followed by Nothingman and Future Days. I’m still trying to let go of the darkness, I’m still searching for more things in my life that make sense, give me clarity of purpose. I’m one of the lucky ones. I get to keep searching and write the next chapter in my life, wherever that may take me.
Regards,
John
Uncommon Karma 