Sometimes I forget
Current mood: nauseated
Category: Life
When I lose sight of the point... when I get confused... when I'm not sure which way is up... it's almost always the same thing. I have a pretty firm grasp on what I do and don't do well. Even in moments of doubt, the truth is never far from me on that. And i consider that a great blessing. Because many people never figure that out in a lifetime.
But where I get lost is in what I want. And why I want it. Occasionally I think I get it. I think, "THAT'S IT. That is what I want." But when I ask myself why I want it, I often find that I either have no idea or that I have a pretty damn good idea of why and I don't like the reasons. And it casts doubt over who I think I am. And I hate it. I mean I really, really hate it.
Tonight was one of those nights. Where I went from excited to inspired to wishing I could stand a little less close to myself in public -- all inside my head and all inside an hour or two. Usually, I learn something from these nights. But it doesn't make me hate it any less.
Lost
Current mood: regretful
Category: regretful Life
Every now and then I look around and I wonder, "How the hell did I get here?" Today is one of those days. And even though I'm not a regret person, today is one of those days when I would give anything to go back. Just for a minute. Go back and say this thing. Or not say that thing. Or grab hold of someone's sleeve to keep them there for just a moment more. Get one last look at my father. One last lunch with my Grandma, Miss Annie. One more shot at being the guy I always thought I'd be before life got in the way. Tomorrow, it'll be alright. I'll go back to work. And I'll come home. Everything will be right where I left it. And I'll still be me. And that'll be okay, too.
Currently
listening
:
Place in the Sun
By
Tim McGraw
Release date: 04 May, 1999
Well, I guess it's technically my birthday now. 39 years. Amazing.
What a week it's been. Setting me up to start my 39th year in the right way. In some respects, it's been absolutely brutal. But with the right perspective, it's been incredible. So let's go that route.
In my personal life, I am surrounded by people that love me. In my professional life, I have a job that, while exhausting, is letting me do things beyond anything I even dreamed about last year. My new idea of a bad week is having to design Brooks & Dunn's website myself. That's a pretty good bad week. My boss believes in me enough to back me and give me time with a coach. My friends and family want to spend more time with me — not less. And someone that I love deeply has decided to move forward in her life, and she deserves happiness.
So there you have it. Life is good. I am thankful and blessed.
Currently
listening
:
Cigarettes & Gasoline
By
Emerson Hart
Release date: 17 July, 2007
I'll keep it short and sweet. Yes, it's the right thing to do. Yes, we made the decision together. But nothing is going to make it any more bearable. Not knowing it's the right thing. Not knowing that we'll both live through it. Nothing. I'm broken. Absolutely broken. And I'd do it all over again tomorrow. In a heartbeat.
Lately, I'll catch a glimpse of myself and it's a total disconnect. And apparently, the people around me are a little taken aback, too. Sometimes, it's the physical transformation that leaves me not quite recognizing myself. But more often than not, it's something deeper. The ups and downs of the last few months have changed me -- in ways both simple and profound. I feel like I'm becoming the person that I was put here to be. And while it's still miles away (and always will be), it's never felt closer than it does today.
This weekend I went to Memphis for the Addys (advertising awards) on Saturday night. I saw lots of people who haven't seen me since before the physical change. And then on Sunday, I went to visit my friend Michael (Frankendesign) and his kids. Dylan & Dakota are identical twins about two and a half years old. They are hysterical, movie-kid cute (great hair!) and bouncing off the walls. We took lots of photos and a few videos. I've never been a big kid person -- they've always scared me and they can sense it! But this was totally natural. And so much fun. When I went back and watched this video, I just couldn't believe it was me. In so many ways. The voice. The laugh. The face. The kids climbing on me. None of it seemed like me. So here it is, judge for yourself...
The last few days have brought about the culmination and near-culmination of changes that have been in process for periods ranging from 4 weeks to 6 months to 20+ years. Some are painful. Some bring hope. And with others, it's simply too soon to tell. But in every single case, I know that I'm finally doing the right thing. The healthy thing. For me and everyone else involved. Even when I hate every single second of it.
With all this change, the phrase that keeps flashing in my head is "accelerate through the turn." Remember that one? "Accelerate through the turn." I first heard it when I was 15 and learning to drive a car. Then it popped up again last week in my snowboarding lessons. The whole idea is so counter-intuitive for me. My cautious side would say, "Slow down. Be careful. Watch closely. You have no idea what the hell you're doing." But the more I think about it now, the more I see the truth in this simple idea. I see that it's the exact same lesson I learned (grudgingly) when I got my scooter and even when riding a bike. It's also hitting me exactly how deep this truth runs. Whether you are driving a car, a bike, a scooter or riding a snowboard, this is what they tell you when you're turning:
1) Accelerate into the turn. Speed is your friend.
2) Keep your eyes up, looking at where you want to go -- NOT where you are and certainly not where you've been. On a snowboard, staring at your feet is the best way to land on your ass.
3) Make subtle adjustments. Nothing too radical. Just trust your instincts and let them guide you.
Not only are those good advice, they are universally true. They apply to everyone. Because riding a bike isn't a logical experience. Neither is snowboarding. Sure, you start with someone telling you what to do, but the actual learning to ride happens when you get on and do it. And when you fall. Remember trying to stand still or barely move on a bike? There's no balance. That's because bikes are designed to go fast -- they balance you by moving forward. And, up to a point, the faster, the better. Bicycles (and snowboards) -- much like life -- are about rhythm and trust. Once you learn to ride a bike, you would never stare at your feet or behind you. It's about getting up to speed. Finding your rhythm. Making subtle, intuitive adjustments along the way. Keeping your eye on where you're going. And trusting yourself to get it right.
For those of you who've been watching this unfold, I'm still feeling it all -- the good and the bad. But now it's time to stop staring at where I am and where I've been. So, I'm tying and gagging my inner wuss. Throwing caution to the wind. As the turns lay themselves out in front of me, I'm hitting the gas. I'm not going to be wreckless, but I see that fear and hesitation are the enemies. So it's time to let go. And staring down the mountain, things look pretty damn good. Will I bust my ass on the way down? Oh, yes. More than once, I'm sure. But it's totally worth it.
I'm not exactly sure what all this means yet. But I know that I'm a different guy than I was six months ago. I know I'm never going back. And I know that if it hadn't been for Meshelle, I wouldn't be here now. For that, and so many other reasons, she will forever hold a very special place in my heart.
Shades of Gray
Current mood: grateful
Category: Life
Things are no longer black and white. In fact, my life seems to be painted in infinite shades of gray. I was talking to a friend the other night about doing things we never thought we'd do and being people we never thought we'd be. And as I reflected on that thought over the last two days, it has slowly dawned on me that, in many ways, it's actually a good thing.
Absolutes are the luxury of the young. A vague memory of a time when I was too naive or too stupid to understand that life is never as simple as it seems. That motivations are at least as important as actions. That life is short and we only get one shot at it. Too short to waste it by settling for less than we want and deserve. Shades of gray cast a kind eye on the world. They bring grace. And forgiveness. Of myself and the people around me. And for that, I'm deeply thankful.
In my head, I keep seeing one of my all-time favorite movie scenes, from One True Thing. It is, quite possibly, the most realistic and beautiful picture of mature love that I've ever seen on film. The mother, played by Meryl Streep, is talking to her daughter, Renee Zellwegger, about her relationship with her husband. The daughter is angry at her father and angry at her mother for putting up with it. And the mother says, "Oh, honey. When you're young there are a million things you swear you'd never put up with. But as you get older, you realize that, when you wake up in the morning, the only thing that matters is that he's still there."
Yes, there are limits. The grays range from almost white to a deep charcoal. I even occasionally stumble across a pure black or white. And while motivations don't excuse actions, they do inform them. Embracing that little truth is one of the greatest gifts of getting older. Worth all the aching shoulders and restless nights. Well worth it.
Currently
listening
:
Tambourine
By
Tift Merritt
Release date: 24 August, 2004
The Point
Current mood: tired & sore
Category: tired & sore Life
The last four days I spent careening wildly out of control down the side of a mountain, with nothing but a piece of wood strapped to my feet. And though my entire body is in pain, I've done no permanent damage. And the whole weekend, I couldn't help but think, "This is it. This is the point."
The last 2.5 years have been a huge awakening. And the last six months have brought the most exciting, intoxicating, excrutiating and heartbreaking times for me -- more than the 38 previous years put together. And though I'm left without a single clue as to what awaits me when I return to "the real world" on Wednesday and that scares me to death, I also know that I'll be okay. Every single thing that was laid out before me seems to have vanished, yet somehow I'm still hopeful. Perhaps it's just me being naive, but I really do still believe that nice guys come out ahead and true love wins out in the end. I'm not saying I'm not getting shaky and having some serious, serious doubts. But I keep believing because I need to. And hopefully, one day soon, I'll get a little reinforcement.
Currently
listening
:
These Streets
By
Paolo Nutini
Release date: 30 January, 2007
In Defense Of Letting Go
Current mood: hurting but hopeful
Category: hurting but hopeful Life
"Let go." It sounds so simple. As if the word "just" was it's silent predecessor. Letting go, at first glance, is almost a non-act. It's simply what happens when you stop "holding on." And letting go doesn't just sound easy. It sounds less than noble. Like you're quitting. Giving up. Giving in.
But I say letting go is brutal. It's the tough choice. A leap of faith. An act of bravery. A swan dive into the unknown. It's downright scary and it hurts like a sonofabitch.
I think of that scene from a billion shows and movies where the person is on the side of a cliff, hanging by a rope. And when the hand reaches out to them, there is always that decision to be made. A decision that should be obvious, right? But it isn't the no-brainer it seems. Because to take the hand, you have to let go of the rope. And while the rope is scary, what lies below is unknown. And that's even scarier. Even when you finally summon up the courage to take the hand, there is that moment. Pure fear. That split second between letting go and being caught. But you can't hold onto the rope forever.
So I contend that letting go is an act of love. The ultimate trust. It says "I believe you won't let me fall." It's giving up control. Letting go of the known. Letting go of what's comfortable. What you thought you knew. Who you thought you were. What you thought you wanted. Or the hurt and pain you wear like an old sweatshirt, frayed at the edges but somehow reassuring in it's familiarity. And sometimes it's letting go of the one thing you love most in the world. And waiting. Believing. Hoping against hope that it comes back to you.
The last few weeks have started the tiniest stir of curiosity inside me. While my beliefs are always open to discussion and even change, I've settled in a place where I'm pretty comfortable for the last two years or so. Basically, I believe that there probably is a God, but he isn't really actively involved in the world day to day. I won't bore you with the why's and wherefore's.
But I believe in destiny or fate even less. Yet here I sit, looking at my life. And I marvel at the amazing people that love me. The chances I'm given. The person I am becoming. The illogical sense of hope. The incredible grace I am shown on a daily basis. This indescribable love that I feel. And I can't shake the nagging feeling that something bigger is at work here.
Currently
listening
:
Chasing Mississippi
By
Dave Barnes
Release date: 21 March, 2006
nauseated
thankful
crushed
relaxed
grateful
calm