(click the picture above for the high definition video - but also click YouTube for me!)
locked until 11.28.08
9:55 PM, Thursday, November 20th, 2008:
Where is this coming from? I actually think it's the freaking couches.
As ridiculous as that sounds, as much as I've scoffed at the idea - the couches, the carpet, the finished front room... has made it a home. Even Roxy who insists on staying outside guarding the gate has started coming in to lay on the carpet under the theater screen. It feels cozy and it makes it even more glaring how alone I am...
...and how angry I am at the injustice of it all. I know that sounds overdramatic but goddamnit, sometimes in life - you deserve to be rewarded for sacrificing so much. For giving sooooo much support and staying strong in the midst of unbelieveably difficult odds. And my reward is complete isolation, and the understanding that hardly anyone will take the time to understand what I've been through this year. Not even the person I was supporting. And man did I not see that one coming. Sweet, sweet hell did that never occur to me man. January - May this year while I tried to make decisions for a comatose wife in mental hospitals and buddhist temples, it never once occured to me that I would be blamed for why she was in those situations. To even hear the words:  "If you had only loved me, you wouldn't think I needed therapy" no matter how OBVIOUS it is that those words are that of an injured person who is simply not ready... that shit LINGERS. I followed what her therapists said, I committed her and wept in the parking lot and continued to support her every, step, of the way and though I had no problem brushing off friends and family members in April who didn't understand what I was going through (how could they really understand) - but her? How could she ignore everything she said, everything she WROTE for years and just rewrite history and say that it was somehow my lack of truly loving her.
But all of this? This is emotion - it's not logic. Every question I'm asking I can answer just as quick. She has no concept of love so she in turn hasn't the slightest idea what you feel like. It's not her fault that she didn't have it in her to face it. You took a risk Adam, and it didn't work out. And the only thing that will make that better is TIME.
I thought talking into a camera would feel better, it did not. But these lyrics, Lennon - wow. "But then again, you're not to blame - you're just a human victim of the insane." How can you really be mad at someone who was hurt so bad? But the second you realize that? Isolation.
The shots of me as a kid seem pretty self-explanatory. I want my mom. Which is probably why I'll lock this until I feel better. But yeah, I want safety. I want support. I need touch, I need contact, I need feedback. I need someone to look past their initial ideas and realize the intricacies of my life the past few years. It isn't balanced. I know so many people that really feel (I used to be one of them) that every outcome fits the action. It's our human way to feel like we have control. So we can have confidence in our decisions when things go well, and have some sort of explanation when things go wrong. The older I get the more I realize that's not always true. It just isn't. We are at the mercy of variables outside of our control. That truth doesn't scare me though... I still keep moving and taking the most positive actions I can - and I get some pretty big rewards for that, but sometimes shit blows up in your face. I understand that... why doesn't ANYONE ELSE? FUCK.
Enter: total isolation. And I'm so far from my family I've become the same face on the screen as anyone else sees. Totally my choice, I put it out there - but do they know who I am? Or have I bastardized true emotion to the point of desensitivity? What would I think of me as a son? As a cousin? As a friend? Would I get a sense of connection or would it become surreal? In sharing everything have I actually isolated myself beyond repair? Do the edits look too professional to be real? Does it seem too scripted to have sincerity? Is my ability to detatch from the content, and edit without emotion, lead people to think less of the content - 'cause I created it? Is it possible that I've broken an all-time record of consecutive questions in a paragraph?
Humor saves the day - but there's some serious head-scratchers in there. I mean, I'm clearly in too deep at this point to stop, but it makes you wonder. I have to show this side though. I can't hide how much this is whoopin' my ass just because it's embarassing. This is the other side of the jump. Why on earth will I EVER do this shit again... lol.