Time is NOT of the essence

I have now successfully killed one entire month of free time. This is quite the accomplishment for someone who, until very recently, could not stand to be alone with himself for more than a day or two.

I had a job finish in New York City on July 18th. I flew back to LA on the 19th, landed at 11am and was working on the next show at 2pm. This is how I like to organize my schedule, no rest for the wicked and idle hands are the devil's playpen and all that. Mostly I like to keep myself busy because I don't like to have time to think. Thinking time was never good because it always devolved into thinking about what was missing from my life and why was it missing. This could have been very constructive but it never was, thine own self being thy harshest judge. Thinking was always very negative.

A few years ago I got very lucky. Things fell apart: I lost the girl, I lost the apartment, I lost the job. Like I was putting together a beautiful puzzle of the rest of my life and then the table got nuked. Three times. Right in my face. A friend suggested I come to New York and crash with him so I did, nothing to lose by it. Going back to Maine would be an admission of defeat. Then another friend called with a job offer to help on a popular tv show for a week. That became two months. Then the next show started and I found myself working year round, making good money. I felt like a lotto winner. Year two was even better. Year three I started getting calls to travel for work. At the end of year three I found myself attached to a company in Los Angles that became very successful, year round work making three times as much as in New York. So I moved to sunny California. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet. The negative thinking quieted down but the shadow always remained in the back of my mind.

I work like a crazy person. Despite the initial job falling in my lap, I worked my ass off, impressed my supervisors and they kept me working. The higher up the ladder I climbed, the higher up the people I impressed. I was always good at earning my keep. Year 4 started with two straight months, no days off. I loved it and I was loved for it. First month I broke my toe: worked through it. If I had taken time off I would have just sat there and thought about what was missing and I couldn't do it.

This ramble leads up to returning from New York at the end of July, I love it when the end circles back to the beginning.

I worked for two weeks and then found out over beers that the next show was in New Jersey and already staffed, as was the small jobs happening in LA. This kind of hiatus happens. I had cash in the bank so killing four weeks wouldn't be a big deal. The first three weeks were torture. Every day: watch movies, watch tv, read. Intend to write but never actually do it. Exercise. I always drink too much and eat like shit in New York, this trip I put on 20 pounds. It was gone by the end of week one. All exercise accompanied by loud music to keep from thinking. Movies, tv and books kept me from thinking. If I got bored I went out to play pool and drink, people watch, conversation with new people being an excellent way to keep out of my own head. Anything to distract myself. During week 3 I learned the hiatus wasn't going to be four weeks but ten. I panicked.

Panic lasted two days. The shadow leapt out and the negative thinking began. I had been foolish financially and didn't have enough to ride out that long with no work. Had I seen the possibility of the hiatus I could have been prepared. I didn't so I wasn't. I went for a walk to try to suss out what to do, no music so I could think clearly. After four miles I realized I was happy and enjoying myself. I was curious. Two days later I had no solution and was till upbeat and chipper. Every day, long walks to think and never a negative thought. Call it a revelation or an epiphany.

This story ends yesterday with a call to my mother. The folks have been meaning to paint the house. I told her I would do it. Next week I leave for Maine and I will be there for a month or so. For the past eight years I've gone back once a year for Christmas, sometimes for Thanksgiving. I never stay more than five days because there is nothing to do there but think. This hiatus, which has felt so much like a prison sentence, is about to become much more grueling because Maine is like solitary confinement. But I'm embracing it. I am taking my newfound positive outlook and I'm going back home. The sentence is short. I know the next show starts in mid-October and I'll be back for it and ready. I know there are shows stacked one after another for months thereafter so my poor dwindled bank accounts will once again swell. But this will be the perfect opportunity to do that which I have been too scared to do for the past decade: crawl inside my own and think. Start to play with the circuits and switches and do some rewiring. Figure out what is missing and why and not lament it but correct it.

Oh, and write a bit.

I'm looking forward to the challenge.