Waking Up

Anxiety - noun - a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.


Anxiety is something I've become uncomfortably accustomed to recently. I can't recall when it really started, but at this point it feels as if it's always been there, and that I've only just now learned what to call it. It has an insatiable appetite for my well being and only seems to subside when I'm so busy doing something that I don't have time to actually consider my well being. Anxiety is the state, city, and neighborhood I currently reside in and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to move.


Now I might not know exactly when this started (although I could guess), but I know exactly what is causing it; my career. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that my career has been at the center of the vast majority of stresses and anxiety I've encountered in my adult life (second only to my weight, but that's a story for a different blog post).


For those who don't know, I work in television and film. It's funny, when I tell people that in the real world, I usually say that I'ma television producer. That sounds much better than what I actually do, which is struggle. I struggle to find jobs. I struggle to get hired onto those jobs. I struggle to get anything more than a day here or there working on those jobs. And I struggle working my ass off for 15+ hours a day for pennies on those jobs. To think, I went to school for 4 years just so that I could struggle to find jobs that most spider monkeys are overqualified for.


2018 has been the worst for my career so far. After starting off on what I thought to be a high note of a producing job (which actually carried over from 2017) it's been nothing but scrounge and struggle since February. I've had such a hard time that I spend most of my free time trying to figure out what other jobs I could be doing. And there in lies the rub. No matter how hard I try, I can NEVER think of anything else I would be qualified for. Everything I've done for the last 6 years has pretty much only equipped me to work in this industry. The only other thing I ever feel like I would like to do is to become a police officer (like I had always originally planned) but I'm way too fat and unable to get my weight under control for that. So I just stay locked in this spiral, hating what I do and being unable to do anything else.


The other day, my best friend said something to me that I haven't been able to get out of my head. She told me the reason I haven't been able to find another career path is because I haven't really given up on this one. She said that was a good thing. I hadn't ever really thought about it like that until she said it, but I think she's absolutely right. I haven't even been able to fathom another line of work for myself, because deep down, I still want this one. I still want to follow my dream. And that's the problem.


I'm tired. Tired of having to struggle so much for so little. Tired of only working a day or 2 here or there because no one wants to trust me with a full time position. Tired of waking up at 3am to drive miles and miles to the middle of nowhere so that I can stand around in the sun all day. Tired of sending resumes out into the abyss where they're almost certainly never even read. Tired of being embarrassed about just how many days a week I spend at home waiting for my phone to ring. But most of all, I'm tired of not being able to look at the woman that I love and knowing that I can provide for her and the family she deserves. I'm so fucking tired.


So that's it. I have to give up. I have to wake up from this dream. I just don't see any other way. As it is right now, I'm only about $30 away on any given day from having to move back in with my parents. And yet here I am preparing to buy a car and yet I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO AFFORD THE NOTE. I'd still love to write. And maybe one day I'll be able to again. That's all I could really hope for. But my days of bleeding for other people's art have to come to end. Sooner rather than later. So this has to be it. From here on out, I've got to do things differently. My life depends on it.

Autonation Timeline

*Note the times

Thursday Evening: I return to vehicle after work to find that the AC is blowing hot air. I check the pressure when I get home and the needle shoots all the way to the red. Shit.

Monday, 9:30 AM: I arrive for my appointment at AutoNation. I tell the the service worker, Daisy, about the AC, as well as the Check Engine light that has since come on, and Uber back home.

Monday, 2:00 PM: I call to get a status update. Daisy doesn't answer the call, but a receptionist tells me that the computer doesn't show any updates so they must still be working on it.

Monday, 4:00 PM: I call again. This time Daisy answers, but tells me the technician is out on a test drive and that she'll call me back when he returns. She says it should be about 10 minutes.

Monday, 5:00 PM: I call back. Daisy puts me on hold for nearly 10 minutes. She comes back to tell me that the technician did a full flush and recharge on my AC, but hasn't detected any leaks. As of right now it's working fine. She also informs me that I won't be getting my car back until the next day since the work isn't complete on it yet. I'm upset, but what can I do. I hang up.

Monday, 7:30 PM: I buy a bottle of Hochstadter's Slow & Low Rock & Rye. That's not relevant to this story, just really good whiskey.

Tuesday, 11:00 PM: I call AutoNation. Daisy greets me by name upon answering, but since I didn't give my name to the receptionist that patched me through, I assume this means that she now recognizes my number and has been expecting my call. She gives me a quote for the work. I insist that it be done quickly since I have plans throughout the day. She tells me she'll have it done for me in a hour, or hour and a half. She asks me if I would like it to be washed. I say yes and hang up.

Tuesday, 1:30 PM: I Uber to AutoNation, because fuck this shit.

Tuesday, 1:40PM: I arrive with the full intention of waiting quietly in the waiting area for another half hour before showing out, but I immediately see my car sitting in the exit lane, unwashed, so I decide the show must go on right now, because Fuck This Shit.

Tuesday, 1:45PM: The "cashier" (for lack of a better term) asks me if someone called to tell me my vehicle was ready. I told him I came up to wait but since I see it's ready I want it now. He finds my paperwork, unfinished, on Daisy's desk. Daisy is nowhere to be found. He checks me out, gives me the key and I go on my way. I notice the AC isn't blowing hot, but it's not blowing cold either. I assume it just needs to get going for a bit so it can cool down. I head to Jack in the Box about 2 miles away, and no sooner that arrive that the air from the Sahara starts blowing out of my vents. I drive straight back to AutoNation because FUCK.THIS.SHIT

Tuesday, 2ish PM: The cashier, who took it upon himself to try to help me since the manager was busy, has the technician come to my car. The tech had written on the paperwork that when he tested my vehicle, he didn't detect the hot air. I wondered aloud if he knew what the difference between hot and cold was. He held his hand over my vent and profoundly said, "Oh." Daisy has reappeared and tells me the tech, the same guy who couldn't tell that hot air was coming out of an AC in the middle of July, was going to take it back into the shop to see what he could do. I walk to waiting area and angrily pace enough to scare all of the white people in the vicinity. Good.

Tuesday, 3:45PM: I go into Daisy's office for an update. I ask in the calmest way possible, which at this point was probably still angry enough to make a 12 year old cry. She pages the tech. He calls in to say he still can't find the issue. I tell Daisy to go get my car. She can't get out of the office fast enough.

Tuesday, 3:55PM: Without a word to Daisy I get into my car and drive off. I spend the rest of the day/week/month/year in a searing hot rage. For the rest of eternity I fantasize about watching AutoNation Chrysler Dodge Jeep RAM Spring burn to the ground.

Lottery Tickets

     For as long as I can remember (and, in fact, before I was born) my father has faithfully played the lottery every week. When I was younger, this meant hopping in the car on Saturday night and heading east on 270 until we crossed into Illinois. We'd take the first exit and pull into the seedy little strip with a bar on one end and a liquor store on the other. I used to secretly wonder if the bar was a strip club...never was able to confirm. Once inside my dad would head straight to the register to get the process started (he has quite the complicated order. I still don't understand it, despite having been sent out to get his tickets for him numerous times since coming of age.), and I'd head to the candy isles, knowing full well that he would buy me anything I wanted. This was such a normal part of my life growing up that I never stopped and wondered why he did it. What was it that made him start this ritual all those years ago. Sure, he's won a few times, although never anything life changing, but he's never been the "get rich quick" type. So what was it?

     

     Maybe it was this feeling I have now. This constant feeling of unknowing; Of uncertainty; Of constant agonizing anxiety. Maybe it started when he was feeling uncertain of how he was going to be able to provide for his wife and kid? Maybe he was desperate to feel in control of something, anything, and going out and buying that ticket is what he came up? If that was the case, then I get it. That's exactly how I feel right now.

     My job here is coming to end, and I'm terrified. I moved here for this job. This job is the only job I've had in almost 2 years. Everyone I know here, knows me in reference to this job, and thanks to shit this company has done since we started operating in New Orleans, that is not a good thing. I basically have to start over. I'm starting over in a place that is already suffering from a diminished Film and Television tax credit, while having no shortage of production workers. So far, I haven't even received a response, let alone an offer, from any place I've sent my resume to. I don't know what I'm going to do. In about a months time I'll be unemployed and have no clue how I'm going to support myself. My lease doesn't even end until August. My girlfriend and I are planning on moving in together when that happens, but as right now I don't even know how I'll make it to August. So maybe this is it? Maybe this is what causes people to head to the nearest gas station and start playing the numbers? Maybe having a handful of tickets is the only thing that gives those people hope? Maybe it's all they can think to do?

     I don't know. I don't know anything at all right now. How do people do this? How can it be so hard to just be normal? Why is it that I no longer daydream about lifestyles of the rich and the famous, but about having a 9 to 5 that let's me pay for the most basic of bills? How do people think about this stuff and not cry? Is this what life is supposed to be?

Hey Guys, Can We Talk?

The other day I was looking through the holiday sales catalogue for Costco. I was amazed at the prices of the TVs and want to make a joke about it on my Facebook. I picked up my phone and got as far as opening the app before I remembered, I'm not ready to make jokes yet. I'm not ready to be happy about anything. I'm not ready to go about life as if none of this has happened.

Ok, I'm going to try to keep this as coherent as I can, but just a fair warning, I have a lot on my mind, and nothing I've done so far has helped. So once again, I come to you.

Let's start at the beginning.

Last week I saw a brand new doctor. Going to the doctor had become a strained and exhausting event for me once I left St. Louis, so I was both eager and terrified to see how this would go. To my delighted surprise, I liked her. She didn't shy away from my weight and subsequent related issues, but she also wasn't interested in lecturing at me like others have. She talked, she listened, she empathized. She was both blunt and caring at the same time. That's no easy feat, especially when you have a patient that looks like me. I've been overweight since I was 13 (although the kids in my elementary school would like to argue that I was fat WAY before that). Diabetes also just so happens to run in my family, and since I'm not an idiot or so out of touch with reality that I'd think voting for Trump was a good idea, I've been mentally preparing myself for the day that I doctor tells me that I've finally crossed the state line into a sugar-free zone. But, much like preparing for an loved one's passing after having a lengthy battle with ailment, you're never truly ready for that moment. And this is why last Wednesday and Thursday were so very frightening for me. My Doctor took blood, and told me not to be surprised if she diagnosed me as diabetic. Then she sent me on my way. It only took 24 hours for the results to come in, but trust, when you're waiting for news like that, you fill every second of every minute. Then I got an email from her through some online portal that I've only ever used once, which naturally meant I couldn't remember the password, which led to me be locked out of the site for 30 extra minutes after 3 failed attempts at logging in. So I sat, and waited, and waited, and waited some more. Finally when I was in, I was able to read that, while I am not yet diabetic, my A1c is level is 5.8. This means that I am high risk, prediabetic, and that I have to get shit together right now. I feel like this is going to be the final turning point for my weight, but I know that this is going to be a long and hard road that will last me the rest of my life. I am not optimistic, but then again, when have I ever been.

Now, let's jump ahead to this week. This unending, unyielding, and horrific week.

After some very upending work drama which led to weekend chocked full of high anxiety about my future, and life in general, I walked into election Tuesday with a nervous hope that everything would soon be over. This election, which sought to break each and every one us down further than Negan did to Rick, was going to finally come to a close. There was nothing left but to wait. I left work, went to rehearsal, and kept my eyes glued to my phone every minute I was backstage. Everything seemed to be going as expected. This was going to end just as it had been calculated. 

Then, all of a sudden, it didn't. 

When the smoke cleared, Amerikkka was there to show the world who it truly was. Donald Trump had been elected president. I still haven't been able to catch my breath.

Ever since Tuesday night, countless thoughts have run through my mind. I've experienced every stage of grief. Well, every stage but acceptance. I'm not there yet, and I'm not sure I ever will be. But the main thought, the main emotion that has underlined all others is fear. Pure, unshakeable fear. I have no idea how to overcome this, or at least move past it. It's Friday now, and as I write this I'm continuously seeing posts about the racists actions that Trump supporters have been perpetrating since Tuesday night. I feel sick. There's a ball of lava sitting in my gut that won't dissipate. I refuse to leave the house with my gun.

Now this next part is important, and it's for you, White People. 

I can't trust you.

Now I can already hear the "We're not all racists!" interjections that I would be sure to get if anyone actually read this. But let me explain why I can't trust you.

Obviously, not all white people are racist. I know that. Just about every black person in America knows that. And I am very close to many white people.  They know I love them. They know I don't hold them accountable for the actions of others who share their lack of pigmentation. But try to understand this: Unless I know you personally, and I know that you didn't vote for Trump, then I can't trust you. I can't trust that you didn't have an issue with his racism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia when you made your mark next to his name on his balance. I can't trust that his comments about sexually assaulting women didn't bother you enough consider another option. I can't trust that you don't have some deep seeded prejudice against immigrants, women, and people of color.  I can't trust that you didn't do this to us. 

And I hate this feeling. I don't want to have to eyeball every pickup truck I see suspiciously, because there might be someone inside of it that doesn't want me in Trump's Amerikkka. I hate being afraid for my half white, half Mexican girlfriend because some asshole may see fit to step to her and scream about deportation or some other bullshit that would certainly get me sent to prison if I heard it. I hate having a heart attack when I see a police car pull up behind me since a cop killing a black man in Trump's Amerikkka wouldn't even be a blip on the radar. I hate that when I see people praying for Trump's success as our leader that I want to immediately destroy something. I hate wishing for an assassins bullet to end the threat. I hate all of this. 

Somehow I have to find a way to keep going. To keep living my life as if it's just business as usual. But I don't know how to do that right now. And I'm not sure when I'll figure out. Hopefully, for my sake, it will be sometime soon.

#NotMyPresident

Little Dreams

Tonight, a dream of mine came true.

More on that in a minute...

Here's a picture of a statue of Pikachu, for no real reason

     As I'm writing this, I'm thinking of those in my generation, my peers, my circle of 20-something kids who are trying to figure out how to adult, but I suppose this will speak to all of those who need to hear it.

     We all have dreams. Big dreams that we desire to achieve, against all odds. Some people work harder than others to achieve there dreams, while some are forced to give up on their dreams in order to deal with life. No matter which side you fall on, one thing that's certain is that we all have dreams. And, for the most part, we all focus almost exclusively on the big dream; the "movie star" dream, the "rock star" dream, the "own a lucrative business that makes me a household name" dream. And who could blame us? These dreams represent the big picture that we want for our life, thus making it very easy for us to devote all of our energy to them. But what about our little dreams?

     You know, the little dreams of decorating your own place for the first time, or singing a song in front of friends and family, or writing something that gets published. These dreams are very easy to laugh off, or place on the back burner. In the grand scheme of things they can seem silly, and not worth the energy it takes to pursue them. These little dreams fall by the wayside, and we hardly even notice. But I think we should.

     Speaking from experience, I know how exhausting it can be to chase our big dreams. I still haven't created my own long running show, set and shot in St. Louis, to HBO/Netflix, and at this point, I'm not sure I ever will. But I keep going. Keep picturing it. Keep envisioning ways to go about achieving this. But it's hard. It's the hardest thing I've ever tried to do, and motivation wanes much easier than it comes. This is why it's important to have those little dreams. Achieving, even the smallest of dreams, can give you that boost you need. It can remind you that life still has good things to offer; that you can absolutely put your mind to something and attain it. It reminds you that you can win. And we all need that.

Tonight, a dream of mine came true. Tonight, I was cast in an upcoming production of Little Shop of Horrors. I'll be providing the voice of Audrey II. Tonight, I can finally tell my 8 year old self that dreams really do come true.

5 Years Ago....

Intro: Oh hello there. I know, it's been a while, but in all honesty, I just don't need this place as much as I used to. And that's a good thing. But, seeing as how it's my Nawlins Anniversary, I figured I should pop in and say what's up. But then earlier I read this thing. I don't even think it's a new thing, but it still hit me in all the feels, and gave me the idea to use it as the basis for my post. So that's what I'm gonna do.......Ok, intro over.

(Here's the thing I was talking about earlier. Read the thing. It's a good thing.)

Prompt: Explain your current situation to your five-years-ago self.

Hey Greg,

It's me, you. It's you. It's me and you. Sorry, I'm a little nervous.

If I'm remembering correctly, and I am, then you just moved back home after graduating, and you just started working at Best Buy. You hate that job, but you don't realize it yet. You're still happy that someone hired you, and they're teaching about computers. Just hang on, you'll only have to be there for a few months, and the money you save from it is really going to come in handy. And don't worry too much about the job. Pretty soon you'll be working at a movie theater and you'll love it, even though it'll take some time for you to warm up to it. You'll even meet your next girlfriend there, but it'll take even longer for you to realize it. Things don't last, but she was good for us for a time. 

I'm actually pretty excited for you. You're right at the beginning of the path that's going to lead you on a long and winding road you'll call your life. You're going to start working on television shows soon, which will be very exciting. That is, until you get laid off, and begin the period I've come to know as "Exile in St. Louis." It's going to be rough, I won't lie, but you'll grow from it, I think. At the very least you'll realize that you never want to go that long without a fucking job ever again. Just remember, stay close to Hannah. She's going to take care of you.

There's so much you still have left to come. Coolfire, the award in Vegas, tattoos, training, car accidents, Sweetie Pie's, anxiety, Producer credits.... And, believe it or not, in a few years time, you'll be packing up the car and heading west. You made it all to Los Angeles. You'll work and struggle out there for a bit, chalking it all up to "paying your dues" while wondering if you'll ever actually stop paying your dues. But the journey doesn't end there. In fact, I still haven't told you the best part.

Right now, you're sitting at a desk in your very apartment, writing this on your very on Macbook pro (yes, we made the switch awhile back. Get over it.), thinking back on your life and trying to figure out how you got here. A year ago today, you arrived in New Orleans and began working on a project that's unlike anything you've ever done before. It is going to test you in ways you didn't even know you could be tested, and, even though I can't say for sure at this time, you're going to be better for all of it. A few days from now last year, you're going to swipe Right on this cute girl named Amanda in this app called Tindr. Tindr is....well let's just say you're going to hate it, but it works out in the end. Soon enough, you and Amanda will start this amazing journey together, and before long it's going to be 10 months later, and you still haven't been able to figure out how you got so lucky.

I would love to say that you made it, kid. But I can't. What I can say, is that you're making it. You won't always see it, but life has been good to you, and I'm going to keep working to make sure that it continues to be good to you. 2011 was both yesterday, and a lifetime ago, and I still feel everything you're feeling right now.

Now, clean up the kitchen, finish that episode of Doctor Who, and get to work. The rest of your life is about to start.

Year 2: Week 25

She's asleep on my couch, and I don't know how I got so lucky.....

     I met her online, through an app on my phone. We first saw each other over burgers and beer. She talked and I listened. I gave her a ride home and she used the word "Fantastic." I don't know how I got so lucky.

She takes me to a party. We drink and dance. She introduces me to coworkers, and I kiss her on the sidewalk. I don't know how I got so lucky.

We walk along the river. She makes us official. She rubs my back while I watch Doctor Who, and I have no idea how I got so lucky.

Time flies by. We love and we fight. We paint and we watch. We laugh and we cry. I don't know how I got so lucky.

The world turns and the sun burns. I love her and she loves me. And all the while I watch sci--fi, she sleeps on my couch. I don't know how I got so lucky.