Now what?

I watched, wrapped in the shadows painted in the back of the auditorium as my closest friends poured their hearts out on the stage, kicking, dancing and singing while the sound system blared and the stage lights blazed.  The practiced steps, the focused and determined gazes, their limbs responding to the rhythm, while the crowd responded in turn in a mighty roar.  The house was falling, and in my delirium I wanted to fall with it.  My heart leaped with every leap on and from the stage, every leap from all the feet the auditorium could barely contain.
It was over, from the moment it began.  The slow, agonizing sizzle of the fuse had reached the gunpowder, and the explosion arrived.  It was all I could do to hold myself together and watch what I had helped bring to life continue on it's own.  Intelligent design could not explain the raw emotion that now radiated from the stage and from the seats.

And it was over.  The winners, by a long shot.  Redemption for what was deserved, but not given.  Now there was no doubt, and the revelers would have it no other way as they held hostage to the infrastructure until the edict was decreed.  They won.

I drifted from the auditorium and found myself outside, in front of the school.  It was a darkness that was oddly permeated with reflective light from the snow that was also drifting, drifting down to where I stood in anticipation... wonder... confusion... and loss.  I was no longer a part of the energy that radiated from the crowd, I was no longer attached to the intelligent design that created the moment.  I was myself.  A lonely boy dying of something natural, yet unknown.  A young man who sacrificed his body and his emotions to ensure that the moment was right.  Now that it was over, there was nothing left to do but wonder if there would even be a next time.  I spied the empty bench in the center of the parking lot in front of the school entrance.  I sat down and pondered one mystery in my life:

Mission accomplished...now what?

I had done simply what i was supposed to.  I supported my friends as they trained themselves for competition; I played the box while they rehearsed.  When issues developed, I handled them in a constructive manner.  There were times where I stood by and watched while they practiced their steps, and there were times when I reminded them they needed to do so.  Somewhere along the line I kept them from falling apart at the seams.  At some point, nature tried to take me out of the picture.  I was back the next day as though nothing had happened; to which I was forced to rest and recover against what I considered my better judgment. I stood underneath so I could push my friends to the top, and when they finally got there, I let go and walked away so they could have all the credit they deserved.  They worked harder than anyone else to have this glorious moment, and they were the ones who should bask in the limelight of victory and accomplishment.  I was content to die alone in a corner where no one would notice and I would not be a bother or burden.  I cried involuntarily at the notion, but I was ready to eschew what ego I had remaining and accept the order of existence.  I leaned softly to the side of the bench, awash in the drifting snow that mixed with melancholy and waited for what I felt was inevitable.

A familiar face wondered outside and approached me.  It was the woman of my dreams, or so I had once hoped.  I had had a crush on her for several years, but that was dashed when I first began understanding the concept of truth.  The truth was she didn't want me, and nothing I could have done would change that. And though that was a painful lesson for a teenager about the real world, my response must have inspired many to think about me differently in a subtle way.  She approached me and asked me what I was doing out here in the snow.

I don't know what is to become of me, I said.  We've come a long way to get to this point, and now that it's over I have to go back to being me again.  They earned the lights and the cheers and the praise, all I did was help them get there.  This is all for them, not me.  I don't know what's happening to me.  I may not live to see another day, never mind another day like this.  No one should have to see this or deal with this, and I'm not going to drag them all down with me.  So here I am, letting them enjoy the moment while I stay out of their way.  If I die now or later on, at least I've helped to accomplish something important to all of us.    

She looked at me, stunned.  I can't believe you can say something like that, she said.  What do you mean "drag them down with you"? Do you realize how important you were and are to them?  You held them together when they were falling apart, you sacrificed yourself as much as they did to win this competition and you deserve as much respect as they do.  You can't do this to yourself.  Look, she said, choking, you've got me crying now.  You need to get back in there with everyone else and take your rightful place among everyone else, and don't you dare tell me you don't deserve it.

I looked at the tears streaming down her face and decided that she was right, or if nothing else I now felt terrible for making her cry.  Maybe I was shortchanging myself.  Or maybe I had taken human nature for granted.  Whatever it was, I shook off the flurries and made my way back inside.

I tell you all that to tell you this... When the ball reached Robinson Cano's glove and he threw to Mark Teixeira at first, sealing the Yankees' 27th World Series Championship, I was at once awash in glory and disillusion, creating within me a strangely muted warmth that has inhabited me even to today as I write this post.  I am as true a Yankee fan as one could imagine, yet for some reason I could not enjoy this moment as much as my mind said I should.  Perhaps it 's my experiences within the last nine years between the last championship and this one, perhaps because of the varying experiences and context of reaction from my Banter family, perhaps because I am no longer the young boy that was waiting to die in the snow after an important moment in his life, or perhaps because I've internalized all of these emotions and experiences and have hardened myself beyond typical reactions other than a a guarded optimism or boiling frustration that erupts from a geyser.

But my reaction is relative to my earlier experience in that now, as I witness a great accomplishment and watch others celebrate, I wonder to myself, now what?  What is to become of certain players, of my friends and of me?

I went to work and sat in a van all day, which is my current assignment, while some of my friends and even my supervisors participated in the parade, either as spectators or actually walking in the parade behind the floats.  I witness ed their joy afterwards as they happily related their experiences, and I felt every bit glad for them to be a part of history in such a way others could only wish for.  My mind rationalized this all as partly luck, partly knowing the right people, but all good.  My heart said, good for you.  If it were me, I'd enjoy it too, but it's not, so whatever.  Yet, I have to wonder if my heart is being true; not that I would expect to be jealous or even wish it were me over them, but I do wonder why, in my entire life it seems, the anticipation of reaching this goal is much more satisfying than the actual event?

When people say you should focus on not on the destination, but the journey, I wonder if they know what it's like when they do get there.  Is it anything like what I feel; an emptiness at the fact that its all over?

Someday, I hope I'll be able to enjoy the destination as much as I enjoy getting there.  

Score Truck

(Pictured: Score Truck w/ Hideki Matsui & Derek Jeter) 

Over at Bronx Banter, Hank Waddles started a revolution by mistake.  In one of his posts, he inadvertently misspelled a word while commenting on measuring the team's ability to score.  Some of the eagle-eyed (and sarcastic) followers picked up on this mistake, turning the phrase "Score Truck" into a running gag for when the Yankees scored a boatload of runs in one inning; something that they seemed to have been doing a lot of since the All-Star break.  Soon it evolved into a rally cry; whenever the Yankees fell behind in a game, someone would comment about hoping the Score Truck would make a delivery, and more often than not it would. It has now become a permanent member of the Bronx Banter lexicon.

Since Hank recently confirmed he is the genius who originated the Score Truck, I felt it would be nice to utilize my art skills to offer a tribute to his amazing contribution to the Banter community.  Hopefully, the phrase will make it's way out of the blogsphere and into the real world; perhaps a homemade t-shirt or a banner that pops up during a YES gamecast.  It would be even better if the phrase were to be uttered by one of any number of players or sportscasters during or after a game; this would be a fitting tribute to the genius that evolves from the Banter.

I do think big.

At any rate, here's my tribute to Hank Waddles' Score Truck, the latest sensation of and from Bronx banter.  Oh, and if any Banter members want to clear up the story of it's origin, please feel free to leave a comment.  Enjoy! >;)

Right Now, I Feel Like...

Another bout with depression.  I don't have the words; rather I do, but I suffer too much doubt about what the reaction would be.  I'll sum it up like this: "If I don't talk about my depression with you, it's not because I don't think you care.  It's simply that you and I both know you can't do anything about it."  

I've talked about this before in a previous post; I live with depression because I can't afford to live anywhere else. In moments like these, I can't tell the difference between my dreams and the afterlife.  When I'm awake, I wonder if I'm living in reality or experiencing a long practical joke.  I question the existence of God, spirits and myself.  The only thing I'm certain of during these moments is that I am depressed.  In order to feel anything, I play songs with sad melodies; other types of music only make me angry at the idea that I'm ignoring or masking something important.  And hey, it's easy to say "get over it" or "get help, go see a counselor."  But unless you have health insurance to offer me for free, please keep those reflexes to yourself.  I am a freelancer/temp worker, which means that if nothing else I have a vested interest in how President Obama manages to deal with health care reform and the public option. 

Let's not kid ourselves, folks.  You know people who are like me who have "issues"; who either cannot or do not deal with those issues.  I fall in the cannot category simply because I cannot afford to see a counselor.  Sliding scales are more like slippery slopes to me.  And unless you can afford to see a counselor, there are no options.  Period.  You just have to learn to ride it out and try to keep the damage to a minimum.  And maybe you're a friend who wants to help, but you either don't want to get involved too deeply, or you simply don't know what to do.  I appreciate the thought, but again, I already know you can't help for whatever reason, so it's best not to mention it. 

So, for all intents and purposes, I am not well, but I will be in a little while because like all eclipses, it's just a moment in time.  Scary to look at up close, but marvelous from beginning to end.  I'll start talking again when the sun shines again.  Wish me the best! >;) 

What's Up?

Obviously, blog writing is not gonna be my be-all-to-end-all, being that what I tend to write about is generally personal and revealing; i.e. boring to most since I'm not yet a celebrity or historically important. That does not mean I'm contemplating shutting this down, as there are a few people who have loyally followed our updates, but I am thinking of making some tweaks here and there. I won't tell you what they are, but they will come. I hate being unproductive, so during my down-time professionally, I will make updates as soon as I can.

In the meantime, I will share with you that I've been seriously considering leaving the states altogether; with the economy not benefiting me professionally and personally, plus my ever-growing intolerance with stupidity and greed, and lastly with being subjected to dispiriting attitudes around and above, I'm planning on taking a soul-searching trip somewhere off-shores for a little while; perhaps Ghana or South Africa, perhaps France or Spain, perhaps Japan, or perhaps (gasp) Havana, maybe even Rio. Of course those things won't happen until I get some moolah in place, and the one dispiriting thing that is making me contemplate all this is that I've never been able to put together a whole lot of money that I can take a vacation of any sort and still meet my obligations. Hell, sometimes I can't even meet the obligations. It's not a good life here, that's for sure.

One of my buddies has been in my ear about NOT leaving, because he thinks I'm just trying to escape my problems; it'll be the same no matter where I go. I'm tired of explaining to him that going elsewhere is not to escape, but to discover; that a vacation, sabbatical or otherwise "let's get da hell outta here!" is not a retreat or admission of defeat, but a regrouping to find and put together the tools you need to overcome the obstacles to your goals. The way I see it, I have nothing to lose but my life, and that can easily happen here (NYC) just as anywhere else. But I'm looking outside the system for a chance; L.A. is no better off than NYC in terms of the economy and the foolishness, though the opportunities may still be far more abundant than in New York. I have other friends who, despite the report of a massive exodus of projects from the West Coast, are packing up and leaving here for there, simply because they can't stand it here and they are more inclined to find work there. I think I understand, and if need be I will leave everything behind to find what I need and return like a king.

But that's not the be all to end all. Hollywood is just a pit-stop. The world is where I need to go to satisfy my intellectual curiosity and my emotional well-being. That I still haven't traveled further north than Boston, further south than Atlanta or further west than San Francisco is a travesty I intend to make right. Some people never leave the city they were born in. The travesty is not in that, but the intentions not being met. I intend to travel the world and document what I see or tell stories where I go. If I can't do that, then what's the point?

To that end, I'm starting a photo album here if I can in order to document the nouns I've seen so far. I've seen a lot of things, but in my mind I see them artfully. Maybe it's not realistic, but then again what is real? My mind sees these nouns as an artist would look at a canvas; endless possibilities for a location or a painting, a sketch or a story. Even some things that appear mundane could have appeal if the setting is right; especially if you're seeing it for the very first time.

All I need is jet fuel and a way to earn it. We'll see...

August is the new May?

Wanna bring a community blog to a screeching halt? Talk passionately about race! >;) Seriously though, as free as we are to say what we want, we also realize what people are willing to talk about is often not as free as what rolls around in our thoughts. Articulation with compassion or sympathy often opens doors of that nature, but then these are quite different times, so we may need a new type of can opener to realize the outcome we desire.

At any rate, I myself have had a few important things run through my mind in recent weeks, but not the impetus to document them. I've had some weird dreams about friends and relations that were odd compared to real life: did I mention that I found my ex-fiance and her family on Facebook? I hadn't spoken with her in fourteen years, but then when I saw her sister's name on a friend's comment, I looked her up and before you know it, I was in touch with the one who inspired Sillone, Ozzark's girlfriend in my comic strip. She's married now, still living in the southwest from where we left off, but by her own words matured from the days of youth. I'm truly very happy for her; she found someone who is compassionate and tending to her needs, and also in her words, "willing to put up with me and listen at 3am." Ha! I remembered the marathon conversations we used to have in our youth, so this was not a surprise at all. I think the only thing that surprised me, and not that it should have, was that from her pictures, her appearance had not changed. She was still Sillone in many ways.

The air in Texas is far better than the air in New York, I suppose. But then, I paid a far greater price than most people to be where I am, and I've got little reason to complain personally. I've given up the notion of having a wife and kids, as reasonable as those may be to most. Life is not reasonable in New York unless you're rich; tolerable if you have a steady job and ambition. All I have is ambition, but the ambition has propelled me further than anyone could imagine under the circumstances. I remember talking with various female interests about the goals in life we reach for, and invariably there was a tinge disappointment in their eyes when they remarked, "you're very ambitious." That always struck me as very funny; why would you be disappointed bty something like that? Now I know why. And though I get lonely from time to time, I would not take back my decision to pursue my dream. Such is that I was prepared to break from humanity in order to tell it on the mountain. The price is too steep for me to come back... for now.

In other news, I intend to produce and/or direct two shorts in the coming weeks; one is a spoof on the Subway commercials starring ace pitchers CC Sabathia and Johan Santana, and the other is the Ides of March scene from Julius Caesar. My producing partner and I agree that we need to exercise our talents more often; in the spring we had begun producing web shorts at a once-a-month clip, but when my uncle became sick we dropped everything to tend to him. Since his recovery, we've been slow on the uptake and we've had to struggle to find work and keep up with our individual needs, but the tide is turning once again and it's time to work again. We have a longer short in the works involving a strange trip on a household spice that will definitely be making the rounds in the festivals; I believe we will be shooting that in a month. But the two I mentioned above should work well as warm-ups to the bigger acts (if you can imagine Shakespeare being a warm-up act >;) So we have that... we also have the potential for a full-length feature that may begin production in a few months. Yes, it will be my first feature film which I hope I can direct; there are some names involved that me preclude me from directing due to union rules unless we can score a waiver (I'm guessing). Not that I would mind joining DGA at this point; benefits are benefits >;) But as is my policy on all projects, I won't talk about it until it actually happens. So, like Jesus said to the blind man when he laid his hands on his eyes, we will see.

Anything else? Hmm... I hope the others will come back and update in a little while. I'll let you know if anything new is happening. In the meantime, feel free to comment and/or contribute. Support by the way of resources and funds for our film projects would be nice as well! >;)