Sixth Chakra: Sketchpad

2007 was, perhaps, the most closely documented year online and, in my opinion, my most successful year of the group. After the crap ending of last year a lot of my priorities changed concerning my future. Acting was pretty much out of the picture. I was dealing with the separation from Tchotchke and attempted to get myself out of corporate coffee and into a career more suited to my abilities and education. Talked to anyone and everyone about getting a better job. Searched heavily in the healthcare field, as is where most of my professional experience lies, but no one was biting. Almost scored a position at Highland Park Hospital, almost. Didn't matter, though, 'cause HP came calling later when a chance encounter and an overheard conversation led me to becoming Executive Assistant to the Store Manager of the Highland Park Saks Fifth Avenue. Felt really remorseful about losing Tchotchke and very bolstered by the new position, so much so that I made an impassionate plea to get her back and was shut out. This led to a snot-nosed teary-eyed semi-breakdown in my kitchen while trying to cook a grilled cheese sandwich. Couldn't go through another break-up like I did the last one, with years of self destruction and pain, so, for a rare moment in my life, I sought out help and started up therapy. Once a week I'd meet with this social worker, suit jacket slumped on the sofa, and cry in my tie for an hour talking about how much I missed her and what I thought she thought of me. And it helped. For a little. Since I'd been through this before, I was making great progress, if only for the fact that I had someone else to listen to me bitch and moan. But I was writing, too, and that was getting the demons out as well. And then everyone was reading it, not just Little Miss Social Worker. So our hour got longer and the stories got less about Tchotchke and more about me. And I'm shelling out money for this? Decided writing was more fruitful and less costly, so I ended it.

Didn't end Corporate Coffee, though. Was kicking my ass seven days a week, Saks Monday through Friday, Coffee Saturday and Sunday. The "weekend" was from 5pm Friday night, when I ended Saks, to 2pm Saturday afternoon, when Coffee started. Coffee actually became a joy. It was automatic and the only stage I had, so I played with it as much as I could. Ooh, and I hated Mondays. Closed Sunday night and Monday was nothing but payroll. The cosmetic ladies and sales associates knew to keep their distance and speak cautiously. Y'know, I've had some experience doing clerical work, but I had little idea what I was doing in that clothing store. And even less interest in doing so. But I made it look damn good. And I must've been doing something right, 'cause they invested a lot in me. Even allowed me to make a business trip. It's a very sexy feeling, stepping out of a limo at the airport, a well-dressed professional young man, bag of high-fashion merchandise, reading an oft-talked-about modern classic of American fiction, waiting for the flight to Chicago.
You would think.
Couldn't close a deal to save my life, so to speak. Went on many dates, but they remained dates. I didn't... I couldn't. And I don't know why. Well, I sorta know why. I just left Tchotchke, a relationship unbalanced. I'm totally not ready to give balance to another relationship, and I don't want to put anyone else through the pain of a breakup. I need to put myself together before I attach with someone else. Something like that. It made sense at one point. So I didn't. And I couldn't.
When I wasn't working I maximized my relaxation time, very often doing nothing. When the weather was warm I sat on my roof and chatted with Buddha, oriented myself with the world, contemplating my surroundings. The sky erupted into brilliant lightning storms that summer. The only days off I had I had to schedule months in advance, and they were usually for flights. I flew more this single year than the previous three years combined. In Detroit I steamrolled years of work experience into a day and raised the public appreciation for Saks Fifth Avenue staff. In New Orleans I traded tour stories with a band at Jazz Fest and tricked a whole beer tent into thinking I was an Aussie from Scotland. Texas was a roadie gig helping Sis move, the moving truck breaking down on the way and just making the flight back within hours. It all got to be too much, really. I gained a new appreciation for fashion but I couldn't get behind my product. $500 for a sweater? Plus I'm dealing with the North Shore on two fronts, clothing and coffee. The higher the price, the louder they bellow. I don't wear the clothes, I wouldn't shop there, and I'm not happy with where the path leads: 70-hour workweeks and "fabulously" high blood pressures. I'm working three full-time positions and being paid chicken feed. And they're grooming me for more of this. I can't. I have to leave before I get in deeper. Five months after I started, I did.

And the most amazing thing happened. I cut out all auditions except for Blue Man Group this year. Really wanted to ride on the coattails of last year's baby steps. Practiced for months beforehand, drumming my arms numb. Got rubbed out right at the start. Wanted to pack it all up until I got a call about a callback audition for a little theater in Oak Park I auditioned for the previous year for the Buddy Holly Story. This play they were hyping was brand-new. My absolute last day at Saks Fifth Avenue I drove from the Far North suburbs through the city to the west suburbs to spend a couple minutes doing a monkey dance for someone. And they bit. 'Course I was one of two guys young enough with an open schedule to fit the parts, but accepted I was. And it paid, too. And the rest of the season with the theater held a lot of promise as well. But, if you've been reading all this so far, you know this already.

Spiritually I was reaching a major crossroads, the mixing of conscious and subconsicous. Things were falling into place very well for me. My altar was modest but proud. My meditation was sporadic but fulfilling. And my journal was filling up right quick one page at a time. But I know this path I'm on. And I know what's supposed to happen next year. Seventh Chakra: Death and release. The end of the road. I'd been at this for so long I felt totally immersed in it. But, this path sorta made me so removed from many people I knew, especially my family. They're strongly Roman Catholic, as I was raised, and they've invited me back to church dozens of times for multiple reasons. I had left the church years ago, mostly due to ennui and frustration with the dogma, and taken myself upon this path as a way to soothe my depression. Some things changed inside me, some didn't. Was what I was doing the right thing? I didn't know. The only way I knew to be sure was to stop what I was doing and go back to what once was. You only understand half of the effect someone or something important to you is when you're connected to them. The other half comes when you don't have them anymore, when you have to deal with the hole they left in you. So I took out everything Buddhist in my life: My malas, my altar, my Buddha rubber duckie in the bathroom. Went back to church a couple times. Was even asked to be an altar boy right around Christmas. Long story, tell you later. My view of Jesus Christ changed from a kind, sweet man who taught wisdom and kept his friends close to a bloody tortured soul nailed to two pieces of wood. And I saw people flooding buildings every week to kneel at his feet. Was this inviting enough for me to come back? Not really. So I left the year sorta floating tetherlessly, a leaf on the wind.

There's so much more to write. Search the archives or check out the zoomshare website to catch up. I see no need to regurgitate more of this now. And this coming year makes me laugh so hard I feel compelled to start in on it. Though I will leave you with this: One should never read Henry Miller while exercising at the gym. Those who don't understand just scratch their heads, but those who do cast the most discerning glares. Skeevish perverted fun.

The sixth chakra is indigo, mysterious, and is located at the forehead, the Third Eye. It directly correlates with the location of the pineal gland, an organ which, like its cousin the pituitary gland, controls hormone balance and, unlike the latter, is said to be connected with paranormal and parapsychological ability. The sixth chakra controls foresight, imagination, problem-solving. Its energy can be channelled by Lapis Lazuli. Now that Being and Every Other Being are communicating with each other, every message they transmit sparks another message in the other. Even absence of message transmit a spark, if the two beings are connected. Both beings are pieces on a go board. If one moves here, the other cannot, and their next move dictates how the rest of the game goes. That's all this is; just a game. And like all games, every one comes to an end.

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Now playing: Fall Out Boy - The Carpal Tunnel of Love