Remember back (i'd ask you to close your eyes and remember back, but then you couldn't actually read what i'm writing here), back to a time when innocence ruled our personality, and a new pair of sneakers meant we could run faster than the day before. Remember back to that time when you'd run a race in the playground to try and win, but ultimately you were just happy you were competing. I think this is where it begins...that feeling....that rush...of acceptance...of dominance....of an ego. When you're younger than that, you do things because it makes YOU happy. Playing with your toys. Eating a cheerio you found on the floor. Hugging your Mom.
Innocence.
Then comes the acknowledgment of dominance. If you win that race, all the kids think you're cool. Notably because you're faster, but you become known as the 'fast kid' and you feel cool. Sometime, someplace, another kid will challenge you, and beat you. So, it begins. You run harder, practice longer, and break your back trying to get that title back. Not because you're curing cancer, but you want your title back....you want to be cool again.
From the time we get our first "Ego Stroke", it begins. With me, I see it everyday, being that I live in L.A. and am an actor myself. In the bars, at the clubs, even at BBQ's...the first question is 'What do you do?' ultimately with the follow up question 'What have you been in? Anything I'd know?' To the lower level actor, each and every time that question is asked it's like a kick to a bruised nut...it hurts...you've worked...but nothing huge...nothing...'known'. You could bust out a movie and say "There I go......!!!", but then you'd feel dumber than before for being in it so briefly. No, it's best to say you're a fucking janitor or something.....but, all of that is off subject....my true ramblings are about Lost Souls today.
Sometimes, with all the pissing contests existing in this town, you get caught up in the bullshit. You go through times of feeling inadequate, and miniscule. Once an actor has caught the bug, (be it in highschool, college or otherwise), it usually meant that you did some kind of stage performance and had the satisfaction of having that immediate gratification of applause. You felt 'cool' again. It's addicting. You want more, and more, and more....you feel...to use a word for a lack of a better one....accepted. Isn't that ultimately all we all want? That's why we buy the 'cool' clothes. That's why we buy a 'cool' car...beause we want SOMEONE to say, "Cool shirt!! Where'd you get that?" or "Damn that car is cool as hell, I'm still driving last years model."
To me, I see it everywhere. It's just more evident here in L.A. There have been times I have looked in the mirror, and a flash would go off in my head and I'd think "Who the hell is that?"
Seriously.
Growing up poor sucked. Growing up poor in Missouri sucked worse. When one kid would ask me what I got for Christmas, I'd always make up something I'd seen in a commercial on Saturday Morning Cartoons. I knew I didn't get anything, but it was so much easier than explaining why I had nothing.
I remember this one time...prepare for a tear jerker....I was roughly 6 or 7...and my school year was about to start, and I had worn out my old sneakers beyond all repair. (duct tape can only go so far) So, my Mom had to get me a new pair. We couldn't get any, so we went to this place where people would donate things to the poor, and if you were poor, they'd give it to you. Well, we got this pair of sneakers....and I use that word loosely.....because, they were made out of something I would assume was a mix between beef jerky and plywood. I 'think' it was a type of leather, but I can't be sure. To top it all off, they were blue...something of a smurf color (pre-smurfs)...but a bit brighter, and the outside was a little fuzzy, like a velvet painting. The next couple of days I tried my best to break them in, but they were so damned hard that they bruised my ankles on the bottom side from them not giving in. This was bad, because school was starting, and not only did I have neon blue shoes, but I was walking funny because of my bruises.
First day of school comes, and I head out to the school bus in the rain....I am kind of happy because I found a pair of my Dad's socks that were fuzzier than mine, but were quite a bit bigger than I should have had, but the fuzziness let me walk fairly normal with my bruised ankles.
I arrive to school, and walk off the bus and a girl says to me, "Excuse me, but your shoes have dyed your socks." and to my horror, I look down and in the pouring rain notice that my shoes are bleeding....I guess the hard material didn't absorb the neon ink they dipped them in. So, the ink is running down my shoe...soaking into my sock....and creating a kind of blue/brown puddle where I'm standing.....this is right off the bus, so I have every kid staring at me on the way passed. Some laugh, some whisper....most just look at what I'm staring at.
That day, that very day, I didn't stare at my shoes.....but stared at everyone elses. No one else had shoes that bled. No one else suffered that embarrassment.
I did, and I knew I had to do whatever it took to make my life better. The older I got, the more I realized that everyone else had nice things, and I had nothing. Older than that I realized that family means more than material things, but people don't look at you at first glance and say..."My, but that guy seems like he has a good relationship with his mother."
No, they look at your shoes, they look at your job, they look at your shirt, your haircut, your everything....they look at everything but your soul...because, that doesn't matter in this town.
If you're nice, you're weak...if you're a liar, a cheat, and a thief, then you're exactly the person that's going to fit right in.
We all have to play the game. We have to...to an extent....I'm trying my best to not lose myself....trying hard. But, in a town where everyone talks to the guy that just did a piece on CSI, and you're left to get the drinks....it's hard to be true.
Listen, a man once said..."Fake it till you make it.", but that only holds so much weight with me. I love who I am....I love the fact I open doors for everyone...I love the fact I say "Thank you." instead of "Thanks.". I love the fact that I call women 'ladies' and men 'gentlemen'.
There's gotta be something said for a boy that has a country accent and knows more about the New York Yankees than half the city of New York.
I love what I love, and it's because it makes me feel good. But, to be accepted, to be truly loved by all.....that's where we start losing focus.....Plato said: An opinion is the medium between knowledge and ignorance.
This holds true for all those that think I need to be 'cooler' to do this, or to have as many jobs as he's had to be cool. That's your opinion.....
I'm now in my 30's...and I think my sneakers are fine as-is. I think I can run fast enough....and I think I'll be just fine standing here in the rain alone.
So, be proud of who you are...not for who you are to others...but, who you are to yourself. Judge yourself by what you see in the mirror inside your soul...take a good hard look at yourself and determine whether you're doing what you're doing for the right reasons. Do you love yourself, 'as-is'? Go to the gym because you want to be healthy....not because Joe's body is better than yours....read a book, not because it's on the Oprah List, but because it's the genre of book you like to read.
You can truly see how much I give a damn about making others happy right now, or I would've stopped writing ages ago...but, this sets my soul at ease.
I have a mother that I love dearly. She's a hippie that truly loves the earth. I have a father that is like Hank Hill and Boomhower rolled into one. I have a sister that is a know-it-all, and a brother that's a pothead....but you know what?....I love them for who they are...they each love me for who I am. No frills...no bullshit.....just a skinny boy with bruised ankles and blue socks....
It doesn't matter what you wear...it doesn't matter how cool your car is....what matters in the end is happiness. Do what makes you happy. Live with respect in your heart, and a sense of decency to you....and people will remember you for the right things....don't let the world rule you.....
Goodnight all....my heart is heavy....very heavy....but, word by word....blog by blog....I'm freeing it of all of its rubbish.
Love me,
Johnny
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