Superman

I've blogged less in the last week than I have since I started this thing. Just a peppering of posts as life has been moving at the speed of light. It was a miracle of luxury that I made it for this long without such an absence, the luxury of living off of lump sum advance money and having whole days to call my own. But no more. I could backtrack and discuss the glory of lobster and shrimp last Friday with the crew. I could delve into the Divine intersection of myself and the film project that I'm working on. I could talk about how someone told me that they think I'm ready for love again at the most honest of moments. I could even tell you that I saw that woman I rubbed my pelvis against on the train and how she smiled at me. But those are the days behind. Right now it's what's ahead that matters.

My bike is back on the streets now, even though the weather hasn't fully turned. And my body is telling me that it's been a little while. It's a little harder getting up those hills. The usual trips are longer and more rigorous. But I'm getting there in the same way that I'm slowly but surely making my way towards where I want to be. I'm doing a polish on a script, rewriting one of mine, teaching, trying to cook as much as I can (Did Sesame chicken over the weekend) and am still fighting that fight between my debaucherous and spiritual halves, a battle that I'm sure will be waged repeatedly for the rest of the years I have on this earth.

It's funny how long it can take for a piece of advice to set in. I can remember being in the sixth grade and being kept after school by my teacher, Ms. Thomas, who explained to me in her own way that I was in too much of a rush to grow up, that I needed to take my time and be my age, and enjoy life. But I was a competitive little dude, one who even then had his hands in so many things. I was smart enough to figure out most of the assignments at home so I could spend minutes and hours writing and imagining what I might write about. I wanted to fly. I knew I could fly. But what I didn't have was the the knowledge that there are more accidents up in the skies than there were on earth.

As I think of all the biographies and documentaries I've peeped over the course of a lifetime, there was always so much struggle in the lives of the trailblazers, struggle I just knew I would be excluded from, because I was always "special", because I always managed to stand out, even when I didn't want to. I didn't want to slow down because it meant that I might have missed some opportunity, that I was going be left behind in much of the same way that my boys around the way did after I had to be in before them.
I didn't want to miss the party. I didn't want to miss the prize. What I didn't understand was that I would never miss what I was meant to have as long as I was true to myself. It took me so long to get that. Had I done so when Ms. Thomas was trying to explain it to me then perhaps high school might have been a different experience. But I figured it out now, when I'm still young enough to move through the world with reckless abandon but old enough to know that I can't do it forever.

But at the same time I think it's that same drive that's often kept me a few steps ahead of so many. It's what pisses me off about the concrete fact that stupid white men control the industries that have that fat fingers wrapped around the arts and mediums I have always loved. And as I am warrior and not farmer I know that I will never allow them to pull me under for too long. That means that I'll always be a rebel and not a part of the empire, that there will always be some sort of a struggle that I was apparently built and designed for. And I'm alright with that I guess.
I'd feel about it with a partner-in-crime, someone who would make me actually sit down and eat one of their meals because I've been working too much, or vice verse, symbiosis as opposed to vampirism. But when you're facing your foes and your fears there are only certain times and places for a good time out, for a few moments when you can slide out of that cape and boots and just live. I tried to burn the costume once, but instead burned me instead.

So now as I'm back to work on new cases, as I'm finally feeling like a professional writer again instead of another dude on the train who writes trying to make ends meet, I'll keep wishing that Ms. Thomas's words had gotten through to me sooner. Maybe then I wouldn't have held myself to such high standards. But had that been the case I wouldn't have done all that I did. I wouldn't have tagged my name on so much so quickly. I wouldn't be the me that I love.

A few nights ago someone called me "Superman" and I laughed. It was a compliment, but I remember it's other connotation, the one where I used to try and save people from themselves only to find they'd left a six-piece of kryptonite nuggets behind as a thank you, as I was was deemed more of a danger to them than their real enemies. I got out of that business but yet the costume still fits. And as I head into a new adventure on a new frontier, I may not have slowed down, but my vision, with time, has only gotten clearer.