5:48 AM, Saturday, January 19th, 2013:
I guess that's the true test of an artist: how long you let yourself be happy before the flogging starts back up again. All-time record of 2 years for me. Which makes me less of an artist than I was in the last decade by a large margin. And goddamn I'm grateful for that. Ahem.
Yes, thanks to an investment in IMAX stock from 2008 taking care of that pesky "money" issue for a few years, finding a blissful relationship and then becoming a construction worker for the better part of a year to prepare for the baby... I have happily been able to avoid EVERYTHING. It's just, been, glorious. And I do mean glorious. To say that there is no happiness in "the fight" for me, is to say the absolute least about it.
Now of course, investment is running out (not exactly now, but soon) and I have to recreate who I am to sell it to someone to make an income. The skillset I come from is an embarrassment of riches which I will not bemoan to the public as I am indeed fortunate, but it's that other background that actually keeps me from getting a job. Of course I have to lie on resumes. Duh. I can't show the work I did at CBS or with the Comedy Central Pilot and expect to land an office gig. It's bad enough people out here have to deal with "up & comers" who leave them high and dry, someone who actually worked above the line for a network? Fuck that. They feel they will be left, and yes they would be, if another TV gig presented itself.
So then, your mind wonders to that possibility that you could ever really get back in "the game" as it were... and you have a hard time going there. It's so painful, you just put it off. Also, you're not that guy anymore. And you may have honestly stretched "that guy" out a few years longer than you really were him - losing damn near everything in the process. So, for the first time in a year, you write a song, you edit all of the second season of The Egos together and show it to your wife who you'll certainly need support from if you are to attempt this and while taking care of your baby you travel back and forth between two realities that can literally split you in half. This is the same song from the last entry, but acutely more painful when I plop it in the midst of my life right now.
Talya doesn't even know the Adam that did all that stuff. That terrifies me. My kid will never see me successful on that level? Scares the crap out of me. Now I get what Jordan said in some random interview when he played for the Wizards. "My kids are old enough to understand that I'm playing in the NBA now." I thought that was a bizarre statement at the time, 'cause he's Michael Jordan, his deeds will live on forever... but it's something about your kid seeing it with their own eyes. Your WIFE seeing it with her own eyes. It's so important.... so again, you're split in half. Back to a 3rd person description of how this feels...
Frazzled, you come back to The Journey for answers. You start reading those entries and feel so acutely how painful it was. You are angry with just how much better each epsiode got throughout that summer only to be erased because your boss was fired. Content was not king, association was. So now where are you? Older, far less motivated, and frankly? Deliriously happy taking care of your kid. Like, happier than you understood possible at sharing every second you can with that baby. So, back into a new entry you dive praying that if you type fast enough, the answers will come.
That maybe by the last paragraph you'll have it figured out.
That maybe if you keep starting new paragraphs that this will be the one.
The truth is? Every day? You're actually doing exactly what you need to be doing. You look back and start counting the years since your last "success" and you get antsy and then want to start paddling. That's silly. Pay more attention? Sure. Steer things a bit? Sure. But that's all this entry is going to give you brother. A tiny peek into your soul. A hint of restlessness that will make you meet with the vlogging documentarian again. Make you remember the avenues still open to you. You've been insulated in a cocoon of utter joy that most people never get out of. And to be honest? You very well may not either...
...something tells me however, that it really does mean something that your family knows that it's still a part of you. So put out there. Start schemin'. It's time...
...to go play with the baby.