A different kind of Halloween

Fall in Southern California is a far cry from the Falls of New England that I grew up with. A season typically associated with brisk dusk air, hot apple cider and howl of cool winds do not bite the ears or nip at the nose. No, LA has a very different reaction to encroaching Fall.

Today is Halloween.


Memories pick at my heart of pumpkin carving, hoodies and twead jackets, walks through the Commons to get Starbucks after my last class, eating pumpkin pie at Pumkin Fest; I could keep going. In the waning light, looking out over the glassy Charles River is almost religious. Boston practically invented the Halloween season. Shadows remain of the Colonial era. Witch hunts, the ghosts of Beacon Hill, trick-r-treating with John Kerry. OK, maybe not that last one.

I mean, Fall in the Northeast is all about indulging the senses; Taking the time to breath deep and feel the cold air permeate your body, smelling the cinnamon, hazelnut and nutmegs, staring at trees burning in the afternoon light, waiting for night to fall and hearing the sounds of children creeping around every nook and cranny for candy.


I woke up today to a different kind of Halloween. It was cooler, the temperatures resting in the mid-60's. I couldn't seem to pull myself out from under my comforter. I poured myself a glass of water and looked out my kitchen window to see the ground stained with moisture. It had rained in the early hours of the day. That might not sound incredible, but in a place where rain comes as much as an earthquake in Boston, it is pretty incredible.

As I drove to work with the windows down, the air felt different than normal. The sky was completely overcast, clouds billowing over and around each other - literally mountain ranges in the sky above me. The light was so soft and and unimposing, it reminded me of home. As I turned the corner and entered the maze of the industrial park where my office hides, the sun began to pour through the clouds. This filter was incredible - I actually gasped audibly in my car. Suddenly, these grotesque, over-designed warehouses were beautiful. Every architectural feature became prominent and logical. A hole opened in the thick layer of clouds and the sun illuminated the entire park.

I finally stepped inside and arrived at my station. A spiderweb meticulously crafted between my screen and speakers. Today is definitely Halloween, and while it's not the same Halloween I'm used to, there's something of its own that strikes me. I never basked in the glow of Halloween festivities, so it's curious that today, I miss home more than I have since coming to Los Angeles.


Nothing is the same today. Nothing can replace Halloween in New England. Nevertheless, this little spiderweb did put a smile on my face.

Rush

Halloween is a few days away and it's definitely a scarier world.

I can feel my new life, filled with adventure, commitment and a 9 to 5 shifting underneath me. Is it the San Andreas Fault? No. It's my own neurosis shaking me stupid. My need for control is unbelievable, insatiable - it's poison.

I go through these cycles of peace and understanding with the passing hours. Day by day is enough and the future is only a product of now. Those feelings will pass and are replaced by my incessant need to plan plan plan. It starts small: "What am I doing this weekend?" Then it grows. I start kicking people out of my life who make me feel like I'm loosing control.

It's just my nature. I can't really escape it - though I shouldn't ignore who I am. I think part of my new life out here; that is, determining the manner of my adult life, is figuring out the balance. How do I use this quality to my advantage instead of stifling it for a period and then allowing it to explode and consume my life.

Breath and relax.

Stop making people wreckage in the wake of my mind.

Pray.

Praying has become really crucial in life.

Different Strokes....

A little anecdote if you please:

I'm walking around, perusing the aisles of Rite-Aid with my friend AJ around 9 pm last night and after a while we both notice a rather imposing man looking our way. My friend and I exchange confused glances but continue on. Every now and then, the same man would appear again at the end of our aisle or we'd find his glance around a corner.

Finally, he disappears and we stop at the magazine racks for a minute. All of the sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see this man meandering toward us. It's one of those moments you hold your breath, because you know the person is going to speak, but you can't imagine what they will say. I certainly didn't expect this.

He sidles up next to us, takes a nervous breath and says, "I don't mean to offend you, but I wanted to let you both know that you have really nice feet." We were both wearing sandals. "No, I mean really nice!" He starts to walk away, apologizing for his intrusion. By the time he gets to the end of the aisle, AJ and I are looking at each other, not knowing whether to laugh or call for security.

Before we can even complete a sentence, he's turned around and is making his way back towards us; "Now, I myself, being a man's man, would say my feet are at about a 6. Yours are a 9, even 10. I mean nice manly ...." OK, it's gets worse and I'll spare the fetish-filled monologue. I laughed after ever punctuation to ease the mood as AJ stood by, silent in awe.

He ended his rant with a loud, emotional grunt. He continued to grunt as he walked towards the door loud enough for the cashiers and customers to hear.

We left the store dumbfounded and approached the car. The same man got out of his car and shouted across the parking lot; "I hope I didn't offend you."

"No, not at all!" I replied and leaned over to AJ, "Get in the car and drive... NOW!"

Needless to say, that was the strangest compliment I'd ever received.

Random

Emerson party bus?!

Claire de lune

Arguably Debussy's most famous work (thanks Oceans' 11), Claire de lune came on my ipod and I suddenly remembered that I have an entire classical library hidden under all this digital crap. Mendolssohn, Rachmaninov, Bach, Tchaikovsky all hanging out with Cut Copy, John Mayer and embarrassing amounts of pop.

Buying a piano for my apartment has once again become a priority for me.

Productivity

Target, Starbucks, running, roof....

Things that aren't cool....

You know what's NOT cool? Getting excited about new office supplies at work. Yea, that's right - office supplies.

My mind is starting to go numb. That's a little melodramatic, but the topics that usually occupy my mind are becoming tedious even to my inner-monologue. Probably the most indicative of these topics is politics. As the election enters is final leg and with three weeks left, I'm hard pressed to even watch the last debate. It's interesting that Obama released his talking points before the debate, because that tells me that there's nothing left to talk about. There's been an ongoing argument over the length of American elections. In most European countries, you aren't allowed to release campaign commercials until the week prior to the election. That system has it's own problems, but needless to say, whats' the point of these final three weeks?

What more could we learn about the candidates' policies that would deter us from their vote? This final period is all about perception. Policies don't have very much to do with it anymore. Amidst all of the surprises and mudslinging and so on - how are the candidates dealing with the pressure? How do they address the controversies? What tactics do they resort to?

Personally, I have little faith in the American political system. Like many voters my age who I speak with, the past few elections have not been about voting for the stronger candidate; it's been about chosing the lesser of two evils. Neither party seems particularly strong and a vote for either is precarious at best. I can feel this all too familiar jitter grow as the campaigns stretch into their final days. I hear one of two things:

"Obama is the messiah - McCain is the devil incarnate"
or
"I don't know which is worse... I mean better"

If bipartisonship is really possible, then maybe that's America's saving grace. I don't believe that either candidate has all the answers America needs and I don't think voting for either will turn this country around immediately. I do, however, pray that whoever is voted into office will cut the leash of party politics and do what's best for this country regardless of this party. Period.

So, to summarize: I'm still talking about politics and office supplies are the most exciting part of my day.

First Fire

As soon as 6 pm struck this Friday afternoon, my senses took over.  Here's why:

1. Temperatures in the low 60's

2. Walking out of work during the richest red, yellows and oranges of sunset

3. Seeing children running home from after-school activities with their parents

4. Brown and yellow leaves falling to the ground

5. Putting the fireplace on for the first time

6. Taking a walk, hoodies on, moon illuminating the moving clouds

7. Lying in bed and hearing the wind, leaves rustling on the ground and trains in the distance - I seriously feel like I'm 8 years old lying in my bedroom in King of Prussia

Tonight is really making me miss the East Coast fall season, but it also makes me think that in all of the days of monotony that come with the weather in Los Angeles - it's a night like this that makes fall worth it on the West Coast.

I think I realized for the first time today, that I'd miss fall in Los Angeles as much I miss Fall on the East Coast if I left.

A Point of Reference

The few days have been extremely interesting/tiresome/relieving.

It started Saturday. I don't know if I've made this clear about my life right now, but I work 5 days a week for the Executives of music video and commercial production at a high traffic production company. On top of my 50ish hour work week, I've been spending my Saturdays working as a PA on a reality show (whose name I can't disclose right now apparently). This entails 12 hours of PA-type work. The following is a list of typical PA-type requests:

"Mark!! Yes, you with the glasses! Can you please...."

1. "Bring this coffee to the talent crafty table?"
2. " Sort out these receipts?"
3. "Take x to the bathroom/smoking break/ personal freak out session?"
4. "Stand over there and hold that clip board"
5. "Take down the entire (120 person) crew's walkie numbers"

Me: "Don't we have that on a list already??"
Them: "Somewhere. I think it's in the production office"
Me: "Oh, so can I go get it?"
Them: "Um, I don't think it's printed. Yea, no, do it by hand, we need it now"
Me: "For what...."
Them: "Do you want to go back to standing over there with the clip board?"
Me: "Copy that."

Anyway, I digress - the point is, is that I work a lot. So my emotional/physical wherewithal is running dry. This particular Saturday, I was on set until 2 am. I'm certainly not complaining. I willingly signed up for this type of work. I just wanted to give a point of reference for the next 48 hours.

Sunday.

After going to bed at 3:30, I woke up a few hours later. I turned over to disable my alarm set for the day before and remembered that Noelle has asked me to come visit this church she's been going to. I thought about telling I didn't feel well or that I was still an empty shell of a PA from the night before, but I decided I should get up and go. We've talked about it for a while and, needless to say, I haven't been too proactive about following up on the offer.

I went. Oasis Church on Wilshire Blvd near my house. It was something like a religious rock concert complete with full lighting package, big TV's, band, singers, etc.. Apparently, the Los Angeles church imported the fever of Southern Gospel parishioners and handed it out at the door. Short of baptizing people on the spot, the house was filled with young and old all singing and worshiping. This wasn't the church I was brought up in.

Church/religion to me, at this age, has been a rocky road. I associate these things with my past, my childhood and my social scene. I went to Oasis and immediately saw my childhood. The people, the talk, the attitude - everything associated with my memory was there. The only thing that wasn't there - was me. Per Noelle's pretty spot-on analysis, I'm realizing that the difficulty in realizing my adult relationship with my faith is a product of the disconnect between adult Mark and childhood Mark. Making that connection is part of what's been holding me back.

Nevertheless, I sat through the service, my eyes open during prayer, whispering scrutinizing remarks to Noelle, judging every gesture of the pastor. Time passed and suddenly I found my tired, exhausted body was letting go of stress and tension - and if there's anything that 3 years of acting school taught me - it's that a true release of stress will amount in a truth release of emotions. I blame work and weekend work and responsibility for what happened next. I had to fight back tears. Anyone who knows me, knows that I do not cry (unless I've drunk a debatable amount during senior week of college - then? I cry. A lot.)

So what pulled the trigger? Just words, verses, the Bible. No pastoral interpretation, no writhing parishioner, just the passage - hearing it out loud - tore me apart.

Since then, I've been thinking a lot.

Sunday night, I was sharing this all with my mother, who couldn't have been happier for my and Noelle's prodigal return, and our conversation began evolving. Slowly at first, from the church and sermon into biblical interpretation, into controversial issues, into my life and beyond. For some reason, without warning, my mother and I were analyzing my childhood. Finally, I divulged detail after detail of my college experiment. This includes the partying, the drinking, the "sexual encounters."

Granted, there wasn't too much detail - but enough for a relationship breakthrough with my mother. She provided the details of my childhood that gave me a point of reference for how I became adult mark and I gave her my point of reference for who I am now.

And how does my mother respond? Not with an assault of biblical proportions, but by asking me question after question. Why? Who? How? Detail after detail finally gave way to something I never thought I hear come from my mother's mouth. "Take your time, Mark. You'll figure you're life out and there's not rush right now to know everything about yourself."

It's a lot, I know. But there it is, typed out before me and I don't have to obscurely reference this period of my life anymore. I'm exposed. Our notions about who I am - me, Mark - are finally in line with one another.

I still don't grasp what this weekend means for my life. I can still feel the previous weights tediously hanging around my body, aching for the last harness to release these from my life. I don't know if that moment will ever actually come, but I do feel that I'm at an impasse. This is one of those moments where you're given a choice in your journey.

But, for once, I'm not going to rush into the next phase of my life. I'm going to think this one through and make a choice when I'm ready. If the tortoise can win the race slowly and steadily - then so can I. So in the meantime, I think I need a nap to clear my head.

Change

change [cheynj]
verb, changed, chang·ing, noun
–verb (used with object)

1.	to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone: to change one's name; to change one's opinion; to change the course of history.

2.	to transform or convert (usually fol. by into): The witch changed the prince into a toad.

3.	to substitute another or others for; exchange for something else, usually of the same kind: She changed her shoes when she got home from the office.

4.	to become different: Overnight the nation's mood changed.

5.	to become altered or modified: Colors change if they are exposed to the sun.

6.	to become transformed or converted (usually fol. by into): The toad changed into a prince again.

7.	a variation or deviation: a change in the daily routine.

8.	the substitution of one thing for another: We finally made the change to an oil-burning furnace.

9.	the passing from one place, state, form, or phase to another: a change of seasons; social change.

10.	the supplanting of one thing by another.

11.	anything that is or may be substituted for another.

12.	change front, Military. to shift a military force in another direction.

13.	to change hands .

14.	change one's mind, to change one's opinions or intentions.

It's amazing much thought can be afforded to one word. Change. This word effectively umbrellas all the hot button issues of this race for the presidency. The American people are crying out for change and each party is taken note and espousing policies as far from the incumbent as humanly possible.

I just received my absentee ballot in the mail. Now what? I'm torn between both parties, I'll be honest. McCain uses the terms "Straight-talk Express" and Obama presses that McCain is out of touch with reality. The truth of the matter is, these politicians want votes. Will they say anything to get it?

I don't know what scares me more: McCain ending up being like Bush III or Obama not having a clue once he's in office. Time is the only solution to this problem - in the meantime, I have to figure out which of these are more threatening.


Obama is guaranteed "change" - for better or for worse. And McCain promises change with more experience to back up his claims. As the American public we now have the power to change the course of history and transform this country. This definitely is a change in seasons. It's a time for social change, but once the powers that be change hands - let's hope that they don't change their intentions for America.

Register to VOTE if you haven't already. You're not allowed to complain for the next four years if you don't!

http://www.rockthevote.org/