'And Steal Away Our Destiny ...'

In 1997, I was a 20-year-old college student and pretty well broke, pulling together what money I had from a part-time job, an internship or the stipend I earned working too many hours on the school paper. Despite this, I went to some amazing concerts that year: Beck, Tina Turner and Cyndi Lauper, No Doubt and Weezer, Rollins Band, U2, INXS, Brian Setzer Orchestra, Violent Femmes, Almost Acoustic Christmas (featuring Save Ferris, Everclear, Sugar Ray, Green Day, David Bowie and others) and Aerosmith.

There'd be other years with far more shows, but 1997 was the year when going to concerts went from being a once-in-a-while treat to a year-round activity. That was also the year Michael Hutchence died and I learned the importance of taking advantage of the opportunities that are presented to you.

I wrote about that fantastic July evening at The Greek Theatre with INXS on my other blog last year, the excitement of hearing those songs live for the first time, of seeing Michael Hutchence work his magic, and of ending up face-to-face with the man after the show and losing the nerve to speak. I left the theater determined to get another chance to thank him for the music, the show, everything, but a few months later that chance was gone forever.

I think about that night from time to time, reminding myself of that lesson. Sadly, I haven't always lived that way, made the most of every moment, taken those sudden turns that transform an ordinary night into the stuff of legends.

This bit of a sabbatical I'm on does provide an excellent opportunity to live bigger and better than I have of late, to take chances, experiment, learn, grow and do all the things that will point me in the direction I should be headed.

That's another challenge, though; I'm still not sure where that is. I started reading Kevin Smith's "Tough Sh*t: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good" for some laughs and, possibly, some inspiration from the man who brought me Ben Affleck. I'll be done with the book by the end of the day and have already gotten a few gems, such as this bit in chapter one:

"In the face of such hopelessness as our eventual, unavoidable death, there is little sense in not at least trying to accomplish all of your wildest dreams in life."

Makes total sense to me, except I'm having trouble expressing what my wildest dreams are. Who do I want to be? What do I want to do with my life? Where am I headed? When will I know the answers to any of these questions?

I've got some thinking to do and adventures to have.

'Just Stuck Inside the Groove'

This past week I ran into some people I hadn't seen in a while, people who didn't know I was currently jobless.

"So have you been?"
Eh ….

"What's new?"
Um …

Yeah, it's awkward. I don't know what to say and they don't know how to react. It's like when you see an old acquaintance who asks about the boyfriend you broke up with, the friend you're no longer speaking to, the relative who died—they don't know they've hit a sore spot, they're just curious about your life.

After more than two months, I naively thought that everybody did know I'd been laid off and that I wouldn't have to tell the story anymore. I realize now that there's no way of guaranteeing that any news, good or bad, will be properly spread to every single person in your life, so I have to be prepared to give the updates and answer the questions, even when I don't feel like it.

As I've written before, I've been overwhelmed by a gracious outpouring ever since I learned I'd be losing my job. I've been recommended for jobs, sent listings, received notes of love and encouragement, and gotten more hugs, handshakes, smiles and nods than I can count. All of that has meant so much to me but there are still times when I want to close in and shut down, when I succumb to solipsism, am overtaken by doubt, do battle with self-pity, and just want to be left alone.

I feel like the worst person in the world at those times.

I want help except when I don't. I want to talk about it except when I can't. There are times when I want to unload everything, dissect the minute whys and hows, and somehow arrive at the purpose of this experience; other times I want to forget it and just talk about anything else.

As positive, as hopeful, as confident as I can be, I do sometimes feel that I don't wear all this as well as I could, and I'm sorry for that.

Someone who wears most things much better than I ever could is Russell Brand. He's hosting a charity gig tomorrow night to raise money to help people addicted to drugs and alcohol get the help they need. In this diary entry he talks about how his own struggle pushes him to help others. It's an incredibly worthwhile read.