Forced Reckoning

I had an out of body experience forced upon me last night.

I went to a concert. . .a band I had been wanting to see for a long time. . .I bought the tickets in advance, found a friend to go with, even picked out the perfect outfit. . .I planned! Nothing was going to ruin the evening. . . .isn't that what we always think? Why do we kid ourselves. . .nothing ever goes as planned--especially under the night sky, with debauchery afoot.

We got to the venue, grabbed a couple of drinks and made our way to the middle of the room. I'm not a stage rusher, and I hate being in the back. . .I love being right in the middle of the floor when a live and explosive band is playing, that way you get lost in the energy of the crowd and the music becomes visceral and mellifluous. You become part of an experience--an energy.

Then the fates came to play with my night. During the set change between bands, I ran into a guy who was a devout fan of the band. He seemed nice, he was age appropriate, the conversation was benign. I thought of it as an interesting way to pass the time before the show began. Then the band takes the stage. . .guy tries to put his arm around me, I slightly shrug it off. I was not there to pick up anyone, I was there to see the band. The evening progressed and guy persisted, so I held his hand. . .this simple gesture of truce became the night's undoing. . .one thing led to another and mid way through the show he was kissing me and rubbing his hands all over me. I know I am partly to blame on how events unfolded. . .whiskey was coursing through my veins, I was entranced by the music, and I was tired of pushing the guy off, so I let him do as he wanted, so I could enjoy the band. As the rubbing continued, I was forced to leave body behind as I focused on the music. . .I call this the easy yet stupid solution.

My question is this. . .why didn't I just tell him to back off? Why was I so afraid of making him uncomfortable? Why did I sacrifice my own comfort for his? (Okay, so that is more than A question) I know I didn't want to be distracted from the music to deal with the situation. I hate conflict, so I avoid it. My other curious notion about the situation, is that the guy could not have enjoyed himself. . .or maybe he did. . .its not that he cared who I was, it was physical contact with energy of a good band surrounding the scene.

The problem (despite the obvious) is, I haven't reconnected with body yet this morning. I feel sleazy, I feel taken advantage of. . .but truly, there was no advantage to take. . .because I didn't say no. There was a silent no. . .but there was deafening defiance, which was needed in this case.

There will be no repeats of this event. . .the band is coming through town again. . .I am going, and this time I am going to exercise my conflict muscle, and I am going to be direct from the beginning. "Here to see the band. Not here to score. Go find someone else to rub up against." That will be my mantra. Then I will look up to the band, enjoy the music, and not disconnect from body, but allow body, soul, and mind to commune together in the experience.

Once again, I am two steps behind in the learning curve of life, but at least I learn.

Today I quote Douglas Adams. . "Life. . .is like grapefruit. It's orange and squishy and has a few pips in it. . ."

Clarification

I must make it known that this blog is not meant to be profound in any way. It is simply a gathering place for words, ideas or tales that I have at any given moment. It is important to tell stories and share adventures, and for me, doing so allows me to organize and clarify my own understanding and experiences of the world.

One of my first adventures away from home was living in New York City. I didn't know anyone, I didn't know what I was doing, I just felt compelled to go, so I did. . .at the ripe old age of 19. It was scary, unpredictable and life altering. I would do every part of it again (even the terrifying moment on Houston street with the turrets guy who chose me to unleash his tormented mind to), but the most frustrating part of the experience was that I had no one to share it with. This was the time before everyone and their dog had a cell phone, and I certainly didn't have a pc. The only way to share an experience with anyone was to use a payphone, dial in 20 numbers for a calling card, and then hopefully the person would be home on the other line. Or go wait in line at the library and email people--but there was no instant connection with that option.

Now we live in a world of instant. . .something fun happens and I want you to be a part of the moment, all I have to do is call you or text you, or I can tweet all my friends and update my facebook. In sharing it, the moment becomes even richer and greater to remember. I want to embrace this new technology because even though many people are telling us it isolates us, I think in many ways it brings us together. Our friends' lives are at our fingertips--even if they are across the ocean, as long as they are constantly updating, I know how their lives are going.

It looks as though I am about to embark on a new travel adventure. . .I am completely scared and feel that I lack the skills to do it, but with the ability to blog and share my experiences as they happen I won't feel alone in the adventure because someone somewhere could be reading--perhaps even my family.

The writing will be scattered, disillusioned, and sophmoric at times. . .when it is not that, it may border on deep and intellectual. . .but I am not aiming for the profound. . .I am aiming for the understanding of myself and the world, and why I am doing so in a microcosmic corner of the internet I don't know. . .I just feel compelled.

So, today I embrace the quote of Socrates: "wisest is he who knows he does not know"

A start. . .

The idea to start a blog came in a fitful night of sleep. I have these a lot. I think a lot of us do.

The night begins with a simple thought about what tomorrow will bring, and as the minutes tick by the thoughts become thick with fear, anxiety, and frustration. Those life questions bubble to the surface once more and demand to be answered immediately and without delay, and so throughout the night, brain sorts through possibilities, scenarios and solutions, while the rest of me lays helpless in the boiling bog of eternal shit.

My "eternal shit" consists of art, money, future, and of course love. Art above all--I want to create. . .I believe that is the root of life. . .creating something beautiful and beyond ourselves. But I have trouble seeing past the practical in order to do this. I have what I like to call duality disorder (perhaps one day there will be a pill to fix it, and I will forever live in harmony with myself.) Duality disorder is the ability to see both sides of the situation at the same time, and doing so prevents any bold choice or leap. For example, I have ambitions to be a student of the world. . .to travel and experience different cultures and people, and in doing so I will be a better artist and theatre practitioner. However, traveling and experiencing prevents a rooted life with stability, friends, and family--the other side of life I yearn for. Both choices provide a rich palette for art, but I don't know where I fit in either of those options, and I want both.

"Oh how riddled, complicated and horrible my life is! What a new and unique problem!" my brain says sarcastically as I re-read what I just wrote.

I have a priviledged life. I have absolutely no money and I have run up $80,000 worth of debt to make my brain better. . .it was functioning fine before, but it craved knowledge and ideas--damn you brain! I know I could've achieved this without all the debt through the local library, but the experience was made richer by the people and experiences involved. Plus, there is something sensual about sitting in a room discussing ideas and philosophies--the pulsing foreplay that steadily accelerates into a heightened heated momentum that keeps thrusting until it explodes into that simple moment of ecstasy and epiphany. Yes, I just equated discussion with sex. . .but that is what grad level performance theory does.

Back to the "priviledged life" comment (that's why I am called a flibbertygibbit because my mind wanders). I have a warm bed, food to eat, and a family that loves me. . .so why do I feel so incomplete? Why do I need more? It goes back to what a friend once told me. . .once your basic needs are met, you begin to find other things to fill your time. I feel I must fill my time. . .I want to contribute and create. . .

And so, I must follow the words of Goethe. . ."whatever you do, or dream you can, begin. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it."

And so, I begin this blog. . .whether or not it is read. . .it is a baby step towards creating something worthwhile. It is a place to sort my confusion, share my frustration, and eventually carve something out of this world that will inspire one person--even if it is just my mom.

It is a place to turn to in my fitful sleepless nights.

This blog in itself is a creation, my creation.