Ask Yourself What You Really Want

It's been a year. Time to ask that question again.

I packed up my stuff in Vegas and left the desert for the midwest exactly one year ago. I'm a calendar benchmark thinker so the fact that it has been a full year since I landed in Kansas feels significant. If there is a famous quote that encapsulates the 365 days it is this:

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” – Maya Angelou

I like quotes. I do not believe in the accuracy of astrology any more than I do the veracity of religion or most self help. I do find benefit from the occasional thought provoking message from any number of systems created to guide us through the world—wiser voices are no less wise when couched in the patina of belief. Thus, I listen to the Bible lessons my mother wants to share with me and I have a horoscope app on my iPad.

I don't often read the actual horoscopes. They're mostly either wrong or focused on a romantic life which I have no part. The on-screen widget, however, offers up a simple statement that once in a while causes me to think some on my days and I find that helpful.

"Saying 'I see you' can sometimes be more meaningful than 'I love you.'"

"To throw someone off balance, say thank you and look them straight in the eye."

"Take off your clothes slowly."

I don't know what the last one means but it's food for thought. I tried it the other day it it did make me very aware of my body. I dunno.

Not long ago, one caught my mind: "Ask yourself what you really want."

Whoa.

It's been awhile since I've considered what I want. The year has been one of rebuilding from a burnt existence. Rebuilding my connection to my family, reconstructing my self esteem and confidence, shoring up my depleted finances. I have everything I need so the idea of wanting something hasn't generally been on my plate.

I wanted an Apple Watch but only as an impulse for a new toy to connect to my Apple mania. It was, in fact, the first personal purchase I've made for myself in some time and I'm thrilled with it. My built-in will power to work out had become stagnant and irregular and this little fucker reminds me all day long to get my ass moving then rewards me with tiny flashing circles when I do. Consequently, I'm getting back on the exercise track. It's dumb but still welcome. Exercise is my zen. It is the thing that grounds me and makes me feel like I'm alive. I need to work out to stay sane.

But what I really want? Shit. I don't know.

I want Donald Trump to go to prison. He probably won't.
I want my dad to go easier. It seems, for the time being, the man will outlast all of us and I hope I've made the past year easier.
I want to date without the creeping sense of distrust that sticks like Dorito dust. Not even close.

One of the issues with my last marriage was that she knew aggressively what she did not want but had no vision of what she wanted (or at least never revealed those things to me). That seems more common than not. I always had a plan, a goal, a direction and that drove her nuts. I know today what I don't want but in trying to envision those things I want I'm a bit stymied.

I don’t want to be younger but I want to be fit.
I don’t want to be well known but I want to be in the mix of things happening.
I don’t want to be married again or ever live with someone. Turns out I was always better solo than duo.

I want to drop the fifteen pounds I gained over a year ago in my shock and awe, sitting both in Vegas and Kansas and not blinking for four months.

I want to get up on a stage in front of people and tell stories again.

I want to be excited about meeting people.

The weight is coming off (thanks, Apple). Wichita isn’t really the place for the stage unless I decide to build both a show and a market for that show.

I’ll take my time on the third.

What do I really miss doing? Road trips. I love few things more than hopping in my car, driving by myself for a couple hundred miles, getting a cheap hotel room, and exploring a new place. The ex-wife and I called them Team Retreats but I think I want to go on some Solo Retreats. Chicago, Austin, Oklahoma City, Nashville. Towns tiny and large. Cities and villages. Diners and dive bars, local bands and shows. Run-down movie theaters and blues joints. America in all her finest.

I want to write books. That one is easy. Yes, writing can be a grind but I really love doing it. It fits in the same category as directing theater and spinning yarns and is kind of the same muscle. I've written and published two books this year which sets a bar. Two books a year.

Recently, a friend in the New York theater scene who checks in on me from time to time shot me an email. A 'how are things?' sort of inquiry. Here's the substance of my response:

It’s been a strange year but I’m coming out on the other side of it better than I was I suppose.

Not sure if you knew but I moved back to Kansas to recuperate from the wasteland that my marriage had left me in. My mom needed help with my incredibly ill dad so I figured I could get my legs back and be a good son at the same time. Mom pretty much saved me from a pit of despair I couldn't see my way out of and spending time being a present son has been an epiphany. Turns out helping your family has psychic powers! Got a job at five radio stations in Wichita (Promotions Director) which sounds cool but only requires about 30% of my brain.

Frankly, Wichita is only bearable because I so deeply love my family. My boss is a Trumper and the entire state seems to be completely free of any imagine whatsoever. I miss Chicago so the plan is finish out the year (my pop’s health went from “Oh my god. He’s going to die tomorrow.” to “He’s ill but will probably outlive all of us, the old boot.”) and head back north to the place I called my home for thirty years some time this Spring. It might not work out exactly like that but goals are good to have. It looks like the theater scene may need some hot beef injection so what the hell?

I published two books this year (the one about the sudden knowledge that my wife was a working girl and a book about my time as an Ops Manager of the seediest casino in Vegas) so I haven’t been merely sitting on my ass.

This fall looks like a couple of long roadtrips (cuz I love few things more than the open road) and seeing if I can get some meaningful employ either remotely or in Chicago. I’ve done the 'jump into the abyss and hope to survive' thing a few too many times so I’d like to have a gig before I split.

If anything about the year has been ground into my skull like the dust of broken glass mashed into the skin is that my goals will not work out the way I envision but setting those goals is necessary to keep moving forward. I may or may not leave Wichita this Spring. That's the goal. Stuff happens, things change. Roll with it, make the best of any change, move in the direction set by the navigator in your soul.

It seems that every day brings some pending crisis in the world that requires attention. In such an atmosphere, it’s too easy to lose track of what is important to us; that is, what makes us who we are. For me, it's both family and a city that challenges my need for constant stimulation.

I only have one life to live, and I'm trying to make the most of it. That means drinking in as much of the world as I possibly can, exposing myself to as much of it as I can. Learn things. Remember that people are fun rather than a source of distrust and betrayal. See the goodness of my family in others. Listen to my freaking Apple Watch as it reminds me to get up offa my ass and move.

While there are people in my life who are permanent, life itself is not. Gotta Andy Dusfresne this shit, gang.