Living alone... it sometimes sucks, but you learn to live with it...

Hey, again. It's about time to add some more spice to the mix, and I'm writing again from the solitary place that is my home office (which I also proudly call my 'ready room'). The title above sums up a lot of how I've felt, lately--when you're in 'job limbo' and you've got a lot of spare time on your hands, you realize just how much of it you can waste, which is sometimes very, very frightening. When I wrapped up my last full-time gig this past June, I had no idea that I was going to have THIS much time off. Thank God for the occasional family help and the pop-up gig here and there. You begin to appreciate how much this works off critical things when it comes time to pay bills and the rent.

Okay, enough of that balderdash. The real reason I'm writing today is that I want to share something I normally don't, and that is learning to live alone. I am 39 years old (which doesn't scare me one bit, as I'm looking forward to the big 4-0 next year), and at this point I've been living solo ever since I got here in sunny ol' Nutville (a.k.a. Los Angeles, California), which has been about eight-and-a-half years, now. Since then, I've managed to pull down three apartments--from a studio-efficiency in Venice to a one-bedroom to, now, a two-bedroom pad here in Crenshaw--and I've managed to do a bit of growing along the way. All-in-all, it's been a pretty good existence, but as I've heard a few friends say, more than once, "It's hard to shake the loneliness, living in this town." Unfortunately, that is a true statement. And if you happen to be involved in the Entertainment industry, like this poor soul writing you, that experience becomes amplified.

I guess it's part of the mystique of the town, along with any other city or place in the U.S., but it seems like so many people project so often, they've come to accept their facades as their true selves. And as someone who tends to be VERY sensitive to such things, it makes trust look like a sick joke. Folks get caught up in their parts, find relationships and other connections via the same, and when the rare bit happens when their facades drop and they discover each other's true selves, it's worse than a cold slap in the face. We've come to depend on our acts as archers depend on their shields to defend them in combat, and the battlegrounds tend to be not only our workplaces and schoolhouses, but in our everyday gatherings and even, sadly, our homes and even loved ones.

It's no wonder the divorce rate and social instability flourish.


I guess I'm being too harsh, and if I've offended anyone, I sincerely apologize. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that one of the reasons I've chosen to be alone is because of growing up through such instances and seeing the mental havoc they wreak upon people, especially over a long period of time. I know too many bipolar folks, especially ladies, I've personally known that have tried too strongly to live up to labels only to have been consumed by them. And because of those experiences, many of which were and sometimes still are hell for me, I've chosen to take the lonely road.

Yes, there are days I still long to have a personal relationship and warm friends--and having a puppy does take away the immediate emotional hurt (props to you, Micah-man)--but it's best to be oneself at times, too. If you live alone, your life is your own. A lot of decisions, both long and short, fall upon you to execute them, and sometimes it'd be nice to have some help (try moving three times almost entirely BY yourself--it's no fun, believe me), to the proper mind, it teaches resourcefulness and responsibility, and there's even a chance to develop common sense along the way if you're receptive. You have no choice BUT to be quiet and 'feel the flow of the events to come', as Obi-Wan Kenobi would say.

Well, my stomach's grumbling at the moment, and I've yet to eat supper. I'm gonna wrap off here, and write you back a little later.

Respects,
DLS JR