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.