Broken Up in the Plastic Land

Dan Bern is a singer I fell in love with a number of years ago. A kind of folksy, smirking, ironic but earnest commentator on life, music, pop culture and relationships. He puts on one of the best live shows around, usually just him, a guitar and songs about Tiger Woods' great, big balls. But one song, in particular, provides the perfect commentary on life in the plasticized, shallow metropolis of Los Angeles, a city filled with thousands trying to scrape and claw their way to fame, success, notoriety, etc. For Bern, he even takes it a step further - chasing fame and fortune is a threadbare way to find love, to fill the hole we all feel, to feel like someone meaningful.

I was part of that, although I really don't believe that I did that out of some psychological or emotional need to fill. I just love movies. More than most things. Although in later years, I felt increasingly disconnected to Hollywood, the industry and the kinds of movies being made, which I think proves my point - I wasn't doing it out of an insatiable need to be part of things, to be validated, etc. I wanted to contribute and work in movies. Sure, I wanted to be successful too. I wanted that big break - who doesn't? But at a certain point, even any upside seemed outweighed by my gradual lack of affection for the industry itself.

But this song... wow, it's such a perfect encapsulation of that experience that defines so many twenty-somethings here in LA. I remember when I aloofly sneered at the line, "And I watched, as the best of my generation abandoned their dreams... and settled for making a little money". God, what pathetic people those were! 

Except that's now me. And, frankly, I don't regret it at all, though I'm trying to dip my toe back into writing, little by little. But even with maturity, and time, and transitions, this song just gets more and more true. Some is truth for me, lots of it is truth for others... it's a sad love/hate song indeed.

I saw the best of my generation playing pinball
Maked up and caked up and lookin' like some kind of china doll
With all of Adolf Hitler's moves down cold
As they stood up in front of a rock and roll band
And always moving upward and ever upward
To this gentle golden promised land
With the smartest of them all moonlighting as a word processor
And the strongest of them all checking ID's outside saloons
And the prettiest of them all taking off her clothes
In front of men whose eyes look like they were in some
Little hick town near Omaha watching the police chief
Run his car off the side of a bridge
I saw men with dreams like the ones I'd had
Beg quarters outside the 7-11
Till it got so they didn't affect me anymore
Then the mailboxes I'd passed 'cept that sometimes
I'd put something in the mailbox
I'd had the wind at my back
Now I felt it cold in my face
And for an awful long time now you were the only one who ever
Called me late at night and I really never noticed till after
You stopped calling and the emptiness, silence got so heavy

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland

I saw dead Marilyn Monroe strung up on every street corner
In Hollywood like some two bit whore offering a discount rate
And I wondered how Joe Dimmagio felt
I saw dead James Dean's ghost wandering the sidewalk
Looking troubled and I wondered how his mama felt
I saw signs that said head shots done for cheap
Signs that said extras wanted top dollars paid
Signs for haircuts signs for manicures and
Signs for tanning salons and signs for wardrobe specialists
Signs for cosmetic surgery and signs for assertiveness training
And I stopped to read them all
And every single block looked like every single block
Looked like every single block looked like every single block
Looked like every single block but you kept driving
Cause everyone else kept driving and cause gridlock
Is evil and not knowing your way is evil
And those that had money looked good but weren't too happy
And those who didn't have money didn't look so good
And weren't too happy either and in a city of three million
two hundred and sixty nine thousand nine hundred eighty four
Everyone was lonely

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland

And I watched as everyone I knew spent their lives
Trying to be watched on a stage or watched on a film
Or listened to on a record and they thought well maybe
That way I could get a little love out of this life
And I watched as the best of my generation abandoned their dreams
And settled for making a little money
And I watched TV and read the papers and listened to the radio
And made all the fancy scenes and said all the right words
And wore all the right clothes and knew the names of the hip people
But I still felt out of touch so I stopped watching TV
And reading the papers and listening to the radio
And making the fancy scenes and saying the right words
And wearing the right clothes and knowing the names of the hip people
And I felt more out of touch than ever but I didn't care anymore
And I felt you slipping away, and I felt myself slipping from you
And I wanted more than anything else for it to rain for one
Whole day like it used to but all there ever was was sun
Relentless sun hot beating sun and everyone wore their
Sunglasses and walked around like flies under a magnifying glass
With their eyes removed

Broken up in the wasteland
Broken up in the promised land
Broken up in Disneyland
Broken up in the plastic land
Broken up in the wasteland, broken up in the wasteland

The hardest part...

"The hardest part, is realizing you're in charge".

This is an exchange from the exceptional and necessary Mad Men, in which a divorced (and inevitably, ostracized through 1960s mores), single mother is counseling the protagonist's wife, who has thrown Don Draper out of the house. She doesn't know whether her marriage will survive or fail, in the long run. 

"That's the worst", the single mother responds to Betty Draper. Commenting on the uncertainty surrounding a troubled marriage. This line is so simple, and hard won experience has proven to me that it's absolutely perfect. My inner screenwriter deeply admires the deceptively simple feat.

Yes, it's always better on the other side, because at least you know. Uncertainty is replaced by knowledge and certainty. But it's a cold, cold comfort. You search for hope, and think there may be glimmers of it, but it's probably just a mirage. Or maybe this is all just an extension of my inability to cope with that uncertainty. 

"The hardest part, is realizing you're in charge", says the single mother to Betty Draper.

Yes, you realize you are in charge. You have to answer to nobody. You have the counsel of no one. It's deeply, truly scary to be making all those decisions, all those calls, on your own. Humbling. Making them within a partnership provided a comfort, even if there was friction, because you knew you were trying to figure it out together. Sure, you may have disagreed, you may have different perspectives, but there was a common goal. At least in theory. Now, no one has my agenda, except for me. And now I'm responsible for that agenda, as well as a little child, so open-hearted and helpless without me. He needs me to know the answers, and I don't always have them. Frankly, I feel like I'm missing them a lot of the time. 

Sometimes being in charge isn't such a great thing. In fact, it just might be the hardest thing of all.

Imagination Gone Awry

Zach was rather naughty today at pre-school. Apparently egged on by Joshua, Zach covered both of his entire forearms with green marker. He proudly announced he was a Transformer. Dad was not sufficiently impressed. I gave him the stern voice, but gently, and he soon came around, announcing that he was never, ever, ever going to do it again. Somehow I don't believe him.

At least it washed off though. I suppose there are many, many other things that could've been worse for him to do... and probably will in the future.

Moments to love and hate

Having taken in a good amount of wine, finally decompressing after midnight to a Chris Rock special (no, not exciting, but it's parenthood...) and hearing the door creak open. Zach shuffles down the hall in his Spiderman pajamas. He puts out his arms, saying, "I needed a hug because I miss my daddy and my momma."

It's so beautiful, and somehow so sad, at the same time. He curls up like a monkey in my arms, nestling into my shoulder. He feels so, so perfect there. Fits exceptionally well. But the nagging thought... why did he need this at this point? Was this a natural childhood moment...? Or is this a hole that remains unfilled, that he's reaching, he's calling, he's begging to be filled?

A hole that I can't fill. 

Patience is a...

Virtue that I've never developed. I don't know if this was something organic to me, or if it's something that I got from my parents. I suspect it's more the latter than the former, but it's my gigantic Achilles heel as a person. It was a problem in my marriage, I suppose, and it was certainly a problem during its decline: when you are an impatient person, how do you cope with the inability to fix things, the inability to demonstrably make things better? 

In the weeks since admitting that we were over, I was really making strides in this. Taking life as it comes, day after day. Then I encounter something that makes me happy for the first time in a year, and I lose all that again. My balance, my calmness. Even though it's for good reasons, I'm just as insecure, just as pathetic, just as self-doubting. Because, I suppose, that I've become so ingrained with the idea that I'm unlovable, or whatever, that I am quick to presume that's been the case. And there's not a lot of reason for me to think this, I admit. Signals trend in the right direction, for the most part, but I guess my self-esteem is still so low that I don't have a lot of faith in myself, or in anything.

Patience... is lost on me. 

Perspectives on Anger

I don't know when I'll fully be "over" my marriage. It will probably take years in many ways, though I think I'm doing a fairly good job coping these days.

I've been working to expell a lot of the anger that I have towards my ex. This is largely being done in therapy, something I was never all that psyched about doing, and have now ironically found real value in (yes, learning some lessons too late). We spent a session where I was prodded to let loose all those feelings that I'm aware of, but was forced to swallow during the attempts to build bridges and resuscitate a dead body of a relationship. Now releasing them, I sat there with tears pouring down my face, a litany of fury that seemed to last forever.

How angry over what she's done to Zach's future. How she never gave me a legitimate chance to fix things. How she never took her own, honest responsibility for the situation. For pretending that fixing the marriage was an option, whereas it clearly wasn't. For dragging out the pain to make herself feel better. For not standing up for herself until it was time for her to stand outside the marriage. For blaming me for her intrinsic dissatisfaction with life. For accusing me of being the source of her unhappiness, whereas I was her rock, her rescue. For thinking that our problems were that gigantic to begin with. For... giving up.

God, it felt good to say those aloud to someone, when they had been running around and around my grief-addled brain for months. This doesn't mean those feelings are gone, but having them out in the open was somehow so relieving. And there isn't anyone that I can really say these things to, because I have no interest in poisoning the air against my ex with people we both know. I'm not that kind of person; I am respectful to the people that I love.

The next week, we did something even more interesting. We discussed all the qualities I want in a partner, and then very objectively, laid out what my ex was, and what she was not. Both good and bad. Essentially creating a list that helps give a sense of where we just pulled apart.

Some things she was: exceptionally giving, incredibly smart and perceptive, emotionally evolved, thoughtful, selfless, funny, clever, beautiful. A great mother.

Some things she also was: financially irresponsible, discontented with her life, lacking self-esteem, incapable of forgiveness, always late, obsessive to a fault, and most importantly... unhappy. I don't think she was ever happy in her life, or in her marriage. Maybe she will be now. Clearly, I couldn't make her happy. But it wasn't my job to make her happy. If she can't do that herself after all these years, my weaknesses was not going to be the difference-maker.

This put into relief things a series of traits that I want in a mate: Self-confident. Professionally secure. Energetic. Upbeat. Optimistic. Able to tease and be teased. Attractive. Sexually confident. Open-minded. Smart. Thoughtful. Happy.

My ex was many of those things, but some of the big ones just wasn't part of her personality. This doesn't make her a bad person, or even flawed. It's just who she is. Obviously, I have (or lack) many qualities that she wanted in a mate. I hope that someday she will forgive me for lacking those. In learning to accept this, this helps to let go of the anger. Or at least give it some perspective.

Last of the Great Stars

Paul Newman died. He was 83.

And I am really, really bummed. He may be the last of the great stars of the late studio system, early New Hollywood era, as he was closer to the likes of Brando, Dean, even Jimmy Stewart than DeNiro, Pacino, Redford.

And when you say those names, it just makes you sad for what Hollywood has lost, and may never be replaced. There was a time when our stars were icons because they were great actors, but they were also just stars. They had something almost mythical about them, and they didn't have the feel of having been constructed or manipulated, to a certain degree (even though they were, of course). Who do we have now? Fading, embarrassing stars like Harrison Ford, sellouts like DeNiro and Pacino, good but not epic 40-somethings like Denzel Washington, Cruise, sometimes Crowe, maybe even Will Smith... and then pretty much no one after that.

Who is the modern day equivalent of Cool Hand Luke? Or Hud? Fast Eddie Felson? Nobody. DiCaprio and Damon probably summarize all of the under-40 male talent that really means anything, and that's just pathetic. And it makes you appreciate Newman all the more.

He was a manly without being macho, who women could adore, but who men didn't necessarily feel threatened by. You wished you could be Newman, and were jealous that you weren't. But there was something so unassuming and un-arrogant about his style that you couldn't hate him for it. And, jesus, yes, it's generic to say it, but those baby blue eyes. Holy shit. That's the definition of magnetism. I think he may have been the most attractive male star in Hollywood history. He may have gotten a long overdue Oscar for the wrong role, in "The Color of Money", but as a Scorsese fan, I'm an absolute sucker for that movie - it's alive with energy, sexy, dangerous, and Newman helps Cruise give one of his best performances. By that point, the Oscar didn't appear to mean much to him, saying "it's like chasing a beautiful woman for 80 years. She finaly relents and you say, 'I'm terribly sorry, I'm tired'".

Beyond his career, the man was all class. A social activist while never making a show of it. Still, he was the kind of person who stood up for what he believed in. After learning that he was on Richard Nixon's shit-list, he commented that "a person without character has no enemies". What a line - and it didn't take a screenwriter to come up with it for him.

The last star whose death affected me like this was Jimmy Stewart. Another one of the irreplaceable. Even though it's been clear that Newman wasn't going to appear in any more movies, and that his fading health took a toll, the projector bulb just got a little bit dimmer for the rest of us in darkened theaters.

Iranian poetry is great for drinking

Tonight was my second date, and we listened to Persian music from multiple eras, across numerous geographic borders, at the Hollywood Bowl. We also drank a lot of wine, had great food, and spent the night making amusing asides to each other. And we learned a lot about each other.

Most notably, we learned that we really see the world in similar ways. The way we look at our children, at other parents, at our backgrounds, there are so many similarities that it's a little intimidating.  She's a single mother with a successful career, and a gigantic heart of love for the most important person in her life, who she has been dedicated to from the moment she found herself a mother at a very young age. She's also well-read, with a great sense of humor, and engaged in the world. 

And I do think she likes me, which feels pretty great as well. At the same time, it's difficult to tell if she likes me or the idea of me. The devoted father, the caretaker, etc. That worries me a bit, I'll admit. We all have emotional needs that we need to fill somehow, and I just hope that I'm not servicing the emotional need, rather than being a person that is compelling and intriguing to her. And the insecure part of me fears that this is what I'm doing for her. Because I find her compelling. We'll see what happens next...

Another Mozart Moment

This year I was tasked with starting a new business vertical for my company. As a result, I divested myself of many of my other job responsibilities as this project grew and grew and grew in scope. The first route we took was very one-dimensional, and mid-way through the summer, we realized that monetizing this vertical was not as simple as slapping up a simple website and driving traffic in and out of it (what you would call a pass-through site).

We reset out ambitions earlier this summer, and then I spent the summer envisioning, designing, and devising a plan for where to take this business. Now, I didn't do it all on my own, but I was the driving factor, the one getting things done, creating ideas, building the designs and plans, and generally being the engine to this little engine that could.  Our goal by the end of the quarter was a full-fledged marketing plan - the vision of where this is going, what it's going to be, and most importantly, why it's meaningful. 

Today was the big day to present our whole year's worth of work and seek his backing to make this a larger company agenda moving forward. At stake is, frankly, my job. The reason goes back to that first point I made - as this grew more complex, I divested myself of so many other key elements of my job. If this doesn't get the green light and the doors get shuttered... uh, hello...? I'm still here, right? On the upside, I'm well liked at my company, and people would likely find some way to make me "of use", as Dr. Larch would say. But this is my baby, my project, and what I get excited about at work, and where I'm making a difference and a stamp. So, it's not hyperbole to say today was a crucial professional moment. 

And, in short, I nailed it. The company CEO came in a skeptic, and came out a believer. He frequently stopped me to bring up his own ideas, and to express how he thinks we've hit on what makes it important and valuable. You could see the twinkle in his eyes. Now, this doesn't make it a slam dunk, because we have some challenging headwinds as a company, and we have parent company concerns to deal with. But we got his emotional backing, and his commitment to find a way to get this done. 

Later tonight, the CEO sent me a note that says, "And best of all your passion for the initiative left me inspired and ready to join your team myself.  It was a pleasant reminder of one of the fundamentally great reasons why I love working here – there are smart, passionate people out there who can inspire me every day.  So thanks for that."

No, Mr. CEO, thank YOU for that.

Definitely a Mozart moment.

When is it appropriate...?

When your marriage ends, when is the right time to start looking forward, rather than backwards?

In the early days, weeks and months, there's a constant state of self-examination, reproachment and self-hatred that comes out of the process. And you hate your (ex) partner too. On many days, it's debatable who you hate more - yourself or the other person. For myself, I spent the first couple of months hating myself, the next few months hating her, and now.... I'm just tired of hating.

I just want to be happy.

Certainly, this is easier said than done. Yes, my son makes me happy. I adore my time with him. At the same time, I know that something is missing from that time together. Yesterday he says to me, "Daddy, when momma comes over, I want to have a Family Hug". This is something we used to do together - a big circle, group hug. How do you tell your son that you're never going to have a trio group hug again? So I picked Zach up in a big, giant bear hug and said, "You're my family, Zach, and I love you". But it's hard when you don't have any balance with your child, someone else to help pick up the slack, to help keep the energy high and the enthusiasm flowing. Each of you are relegated to accomplishing this on your own. Granted, you only now have to do it half the time, but that doesn't make it much easier.

But I'm working on being happy, and I'm working on being balanced, flexible about what is coming my way every day, and being open-minded about the future. Yeah, it all scares me, and I'm generally terrified about things like dating, single parenthood, not having a support system, etc. But I'm managing that fear and trepidation better than in the past - even better than when I was married. I had a minor car accident last week, and it was even my fault, but I chose not to let it faze me. That's something that would've once left me in a tizzy for days.

So, I recently found myself on a date. A really nice one. Didn't go searching for it, and I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of a situation, but it happened, and I liked it. It made me feel good about myself for a bit. Looking forward to a second date.

Yet, somehow the ex managed to put a giant pin in that balloon. Unintentionally, I'm sure, but it still infuriates me, because I'm doing everything possible to be respectful of her feelings. I wouldn't want to know that she's dating, so I think it's thoughtful and considerate not to shove that in her face. "Hey, yeah I know it sucks being a single mother, struggling to pay the bills, having a crappy new apartment, etc, but guess what - I had a date with an awesome woman!". No, I'm not doing that at all.

It started amusingly, with the ex popping up on IM to ask me who so-and-so was on my Facebook page, writing on my "wall". "Why do you ask?", I respond. "Because I think she has a crush on you", the ex responds. Now, these are extremely innocuous little comments on my profile page, but the ex is nothing if not preturnaturally perceptive, to an almost scary extent. But I ignore the question and move onto other topics.

Later, however, she realizes that a Hollywood Bowl show I'm going to on Saturday (though does not know that I'm taking so-and-so) is a more "cultural" show of Iranian poetry, Yo-Yo Ma and Persian music. So this gets the ex's hair in a bundle because two years ago I didn't want to see some Spanish singer with her at UCLA. She bitches at me over a text message. I politely respond that going to the Bowl is not about her, and that I'm just having a social life. She responds to say that she doesn't understand that I'm now doing the things that "I made her feel shitty for wanting to do". Um, because I didn't go to a Mariza concert two years ago? And which I fully encouraged her to go. I didn't want to see that particular show, so sue me.

But somehow, inexplicably, these two events are now linked in her mind. Is she wondering who I am going with? Does she care? I don't know the answer to either question, but I would do her a disservice to think that it never occurred to her to wonder who I'm going with. So I politely respond via text (defending yourself over text message is plainly absurd, but it was also a way to keep the conversation contained) that, again, this is not about her. I state that this year she had done an exceptional job making me feel like I wasn't an interesting or good person. Just like she says I made her feel. But I am a good person, and neither one of us want to feel that way. Going to the Hollywood Bowl is not a referendum on our relationship, nor is it an assault on her. It's just an attempt to have a social life. It's not worth mentioning that it's also an attempt to have a wonderful second date. Yet, the ex is so perceptive and clever that I wouldn't doubt if she already knows this.

So, somehow she's managed to make me feel shitty and guilty about something I shouldn't possibly feel shitty or guilty about. I haven't done anything wrong!

But it brings up the question: when is it appropriate to put yourself out there again? Are the rules different when you are the dumper versus the dumpee? As the one who was left, don't I pretty much have free rein to do whatever the hell I want without question, judgment or repercussion? Especially when this whole year has been playing by the rules that she started?Now when I'm trying to find and have a slice of happiness, she's  trying to take control of that. Now, I don't at all think it's intentional on her part, but it's rather thoughtless regardless, and I resent being made to feel like I've done something wrong, when I've being what I would consider excessively thoughtful about the whole thing.

I will not let her co-opt this moment. I don't know what it's a moment of, other than of hope. We all need a little hope.