This post is dedicated to the late, great David Bowie. In remembrance of his musical legacy, I’ve decided to go with a Space Oddity theme today. Enjoy:
The countdown sequence has begun. The mission could still be scrubbed, but soon I believe we will be go for launch. With the sale of our home currently under way, my focus is now divided between the closing and what lies beyond. For years we worked and saved in preparation for this departure, but the mission isn’t exactly going as planned. Instead of building a custom home featuring an 800 sq. ft. standalone studio, we’re moving in with my in-laws. Naturally, in times like these, I will often re-examine those events and decisions which brought me to a particular plot point in my life.
When I think about the family I grew up in, I think about NASA. It may seem strange, but images come to mind of a spacecraft soaring into orbit. I picture large sections breaking away from the rocket in stages, being consumed by fire upon re-entry into atmosphere. That’s sort of what happened to my household - really, to my whole family - only it wasn’t quite so noble or inspiring. My whole life has been this sequence of people falling away as I climb higher and higher out of the hostile atmosphere in which I was raised.
My dad left our family a few weeks after my 8th birthday. My sister broke away as soon as she could. After some unexpected delays, I finally moved out of my mother’s home. I have many similar stories about friendships and romances. I had to get away, because the air on the surface did not support life. I was propelled into space on a glorious journey, only to wind up jettisoned out here, adrift in the cold, dark of deep space. Perhaps I’m still on the right trajectory, but I’m afraid my instruments are failing and I’ve lost contact with mission control. For now my status is unknown, so I've shut down the engines to conserve power.
Ellis Avenue, Baton Rouge. January 2016.
Even the site that once featured my childhood home now resembles an abandoned launch pad. Completed in 1978, it was the only home my parents ever built. I was born the next year, and we lived there as a family until my parents divorced in 1987. Apparently, the bank foreclosed on this property's most recent owners last year. After sitting vacant in a subpar neighborhood for a short time, the house became a blight, and thus the bank tore it down. How apropos that this forsaken slab would symbolize the false premise upon which it was built.
So, what does all of this astronaut lingo mean? Basically, I feel like I’m caught up in the gravitational pull of a massive object that I've been trying to escape from my whole life. I really don’t want to go back to the poverty from whence I came. I’m devastated at the prospect of starting over again in my mid-30s. I’ve more or less wanted the same things my whole life. I think by the time I was in elementary school it was pretty obvious that I wanted to be a professional storyteller. The comedian, the recording artist, the writer, the actor/filmmaker… I didn't pursue my dreams in the past, in large part because I was scared of going bankrupt. Now it seems that financial ruin was the black hole that I had to pass through in order to see what's on the other side.
Through a combination of difficult circumstances and poor choices, I became a late bloomer. I didn't attain the thrust needed for liftoff until later in life. It’s taken a great deal of time, but I’m slowly coming to terms with my previous failure to launch. I've harnessed the energy needed to reach atmosphere and what lies beyond. You can watch me soar away and out of site, but I'd much prefer it if you joined me up there in the stars.