Stupid, Happy Messages

I got a delightful voicemail message today from my dear friend of a gazillion years, North. All it said was, "Hey, Butthead, it's me. Call me back, dude, I've got stuff to tell you!" Then a whole bunch of people in the background started laughing.

When I called North back, he said he was in Aspen filming a movie. It made me remember Colorado intensely. There, I spent all my free time in the mountains with North and my best friend in the known universe, Alistair. We would ride jeep trails, swim, shoot targets with a 22, explore, and camp out. Sometimes we would play poker or even chess in the middle of nowhere.

Those times are the reason I want to live. I remember that sense of freedom, and remember that it's possible for me to find it again. I remember how it felt to be able to sleep anywhere, say anything, wear anything, and make any sound on earth and not be heard.

I will carry my friendships from that time all the way through this life. Not many friendships last from childhood into the end, but these will. They have lasted through grade school, college, thousands of miles, loves, fights, marriages, family struggles, and changing careers. They will last through everything else, too. No matter what, we all still talk every week. Sometimes we talk every day.

Since Alistair and I can't play chess in person now, we're playing long-distance. We call each other up and say, "white pawn A-2 to A-4, jackass. Take that!" We like to play chess, of course, but it's really just an excuse for companionship. It's a way for us to stay best friends, even though we can't have beer and ice cream for dinner on his bedroom floor anymore.

We're ridiculous when Alistair, North and I get together with all our old friends. We laugh so hard, and we say things we could never say to people we met as adults. We keep our arms around each other and walk through the woods and the fields with swagger and ease. Our legs are used to the terrain, and we don't look down, even as we walk over rock formations and scale the timberline. Conversations float through topics without a thought. Like a school of fish, we all somehow know where the others are going and follow, but no one in particular leads.

Lately, I've been feeling like a kid in grade school does when all the other kids are in a group, doing something fun with their backs turned. All of my friends here are older than me and finished school before the recession. They have jobs and I don't have one. It has been so, so hard to find a job even though I've done everything I can think of to get one. My older friends try to understand, but they can't.

I speak fluent Spanish and I'm as organized as an ant colony. I know everyone, apply everywhere, and volunteer where I'm needed. It just doesn't seem to matter. Sometimes I feel like I'm drifting away from the earth, just falling off the face of it. To have so much purpose and noplace to go hurts.

Then I get a phone call from North saying, "Hey, Butthead, it's me," and a note from Alistair saying, "My queen to your bishop, ha ha" and I know that no matter what, I'll never really be left behind.

The Summer

Don't you ever just long for summer?

I do. I always do. I imagine the sounds of people outside, gardening, playing games, and mowing the lawn. I imagine the nights full of the songs of insects and the woman next door who sings out through the kitchen window as she washes the dishes.

Think of the freedom of stepping outside without shoes, a hat, a coat, or gloves and standing under the sun. Don't you miss it?

Thank You, Augusten

Augusten Burroughs may have just saved my life. I always got him, and have read all of his books. I didn't realize that he understood me, too, until I read his short story, "Why Do You Reward Me Thus?"

If you are reading this and carry any doubts in your heart about your worth and talents, please find and read his story as soon as you can. Read it before you pick up the bottle and drink, abuse a substance, or just resort to apathy like me. Read it before you do the thing that keeps you from greatness. You know what it is.

*****

In the story, Augusten tells about a Christmas when he becomes so drunk that he joins a group of bums near his apartment building for several days. One of the women, Shirley, is an alcoholic like him.

She is also a classically trained opera singer with the most remarkable voice he has ever heard. When describing Shirley to his friend, Augusten says, "It's like, she could have been huge - Beverly Sills or... I don't know their names - but she was The Met, she was Carnegie Hall; she made the windows shake in their frames."

"I know this sounds weird, but here's my point - all of it was wasted. She had - has - this epic talent, and she's a homeless alcoholic. She's not some big opera singer at the Met. She's a bum lady. With this secret voice. Almost like a prisoner with a ten-carat diamond who can only wear it inside her cell and prance around alone."

"And you know the first thing that came into my mind when she was singing for me? I thought, if I had been born with a talent that large I never would have started drinking. Almost like having such a huge talent would insulate you or protect you. Because it would feel like you had this destiny. So you didn't have to worry. I wouldn't drink because I had too much talent to drink. And then I kind of looked at Shirley sitting there on that bench and I knew, Oh yes I would. And something in me just fucking clicked."

"I've never been so fucking scared in my life. I always thought I could quit drinking whenever I wanted. Or that I was somehow too smart. Or too something. Whatever, alcohol wouldn't ruin me. It couldn't. But man, if you had only heard that voice and seen the size of her. You know? She was big. Shirley was huge. And still, she got taken down."

Reading this, all I could think was, "Augusten, you have an 'epic talent'! How can you live with that greatness inside of you and not even know it?" Then I said out loud, right into the pages, "Please don't give up. I wish you could hear me - you're going to be a celebrity writer someday. Everyone in America is going to know your name."

At that moment, something in me 'just clicked', too. As I begged Augusten not to give up on himself, I realized that in my heart, I had given up on myself, too.

Our lives converged then. His past became my present. It was like we had a flux capacitator. The lesson Augusten learned on the streets with Shirley many years ago reached out across time and country to me.

His story changed my life for good. It will change the lives of everyone out there who chooses to take it to heart. His words have the power to do so much good, and they do. THAT POWER IS THE REASON I WRITE. That drive to reach out to people through stories is my epic talent. Just like his.

Let us unite in our resolutions. Let us unite in our belief in ourselves and those we care about. Let us refuse to give up, no matter what.

http://www.augusten.com/