Part LV

So, in November of 1988, I moved into a lovely little one bedroom shanty...I mean apartment in Venice California. It was the first time I had ever lived in my own place and I liked it, but a few weeks later my newly purchased 1971 VW Bug broke down and I lost my job and I was pretty quickly unable to pay my bills. My relationship with Amy was pretty weird anyway, but she turned 18 just before Thanksgiving and we went to her wealthy parents home in Costa Mesa for the holiday and I found out a little more of why she dated me...Daddy liked preppy guys and I was anything but that. Amy was, for lack of a better term, dumb. Not unintelligent, but the kind of dumb that gets under your skin; the kind of dumb that makes assumptions about everyone and everything she comes across. She was book smart, but was a vapid pretty girl without any common sense or reason. She hated how mad I got at drivers on the road (which was probably good) and I hated that she believed everything she read in the tabloids (which was definitely not good).

Late in December we got in a huge fight because I lied to her. I had an opening gig at a comedy club in West Hollywood and I didn't want anyone I knew to be there because I felt it would inhibit me and I was already pretty nervous doing comedy. She insisted on going so I told her I made the whole thing up. After the gig, she realized that I had lied and confronted me and I just broke down. I am not sure why, but I spilled my guts about every little lie I had told (okay not all of them, but all of the ones to her). Her initial response was one of forgiveness, but our relationship did not last out the evening as she realized that she really didn't know me and she dumped me. The next week I was offered a voluntary eviction due to not paying my rent, I guess they had a better tenant ready to go. I was able to break my lease, but without penalty, and I moved back to Mom & Ted's couch.

A couple of weeks later, I called my old roomie Lee and he said if I moved back I could stay on their couch, but my room had been rented to someone else. So, I planned to go back to Santa Clara the day after the Super Bowl in January of 1989. This was the Super Bowl where the Niners beat the Bengals for their second championship. The next morning, Darin had offered to pick up the items and change the oil in my car (which had been repaired from the fateful break down). He was almost two hours late and I loaded up the car to leave. When he arrived, we got into a fist fight in which no blows landed, but I did not talk to my brother for more than a year afterwards. I still don't know what that fight was about and neither does he. Leaving the fight, I drove up the 5 to San Jose and began living on the couch at my old apartment. The guys treated me with such grace and never brought up that I had left them high and dry when I had moved before. Lee and I made plans to move into a 2 bedroom just the two of us and leave Peter and their new room mate, Dan, in the existing space. Times were tough, I was still reeling from the break up of a very intense, but woefully bad relationship with Amy and had no place of my own. But, I had friends and that seemed like a good thing.

5 guys

We went to Five Guys Burgers & Fries last week and it was yummy. There is not enough to be said for a restaurant concept which does not try to get too big for its britches, but instead does the few things they do so well that people line up to have their wares. In California, there are such wonderful places as Johnny Rockets which really only serves burgers and shakes; Pizza My Heart, a by-the-slice place that only offers large pizzas or a slice of large pizza and only cheese or Pepperoni; and the little shacks in Aptos and Capitola called Duke's that serve the best grilled dogs and BBQ you can find. Here, in Colorado Springs, Five Guys is that place. The place was packed and we weren't going to go there, we were on our way to noodles...but, man, it smelled good. So, in we go and there is no where to sit and the smallest menu known to man. The options were burger, hot dog or grilled cheese. While you can add some things to the top of your selection, there are no specially made crazy burgers waiting for you. The food was ready pretty quick, grilled right in front of you by an entire row of High School students working their way toward some weekend party. And, it was delicious. I highly suggest the Cajun Fries (just some seasoning added to their regular fries). The fries are not really my kind of fries (I am a crispy fry kind o guy) and are pretty oily, but for taste, they are pretty jammin'. The burgers and dogs were delicious. I can recommend this place with gusto, both due to the good food and for the simplicity of concept. Go have a dog and tell them I sent you...they have no idea who I am but I would love to see how they react to that.

Part LIV

Living on your Mom's couch is even worse than it sounds, but hey its better than living in the van. Shortly after arriving, I struck out looking for work which would keep me afloat while seeking my stardom. Some of that was hampered by two weeks shooting the grad film, "Noble Honor", for which I not only did not get paid, I also never received a copy. Responding to every ad in the trades, I went through a number of cattle calls. My favorite had me in callbacks for the role of Neil Perry in "Dead Poet's Society" (the part played by Robert Sean Leonard). It is still hard for me to see him in various roles (including an eight year run on House) and not be filled with a sense of "what if."

Within a couple of weeks, my brother ran me by a local restaurant called the Warehouse (no not the music store) which was almost completely employing gay men. I knew that neither when I applied, nor for a good period of time following it. later I was called into the GM's office and told that I had misrepresented myself during the hiring process. I really did not understand what that meant, but one of the other 3 straight guys (of a staff of over 70 men) told me it meant they thought I was gay when they hired me. We wore white tight shorts and Hawaiian shirts and were prodded to get a photo with any celebrity who walked in the door. The pay never worked out to be what I had hoped for and I stayed as a day server for a long time. I continued to hang out with my friend, Monica, and her three roomies: Kim, Jackie and Gayle. They lived in a two bedroom condo in Westwood and all attended UCLA. They were fun and pretty cute and it made me feel good to hang out with them. They seemed to be pretty tight with all of the UCLA athletes, including a young (but already famous) Andre Agassi and a starting quarterback who was only somewhat known at the time, Troy Aikman. There were other friends who were around at the time, relatives of celebrities or minor celebrities on their own, and I slipped back into the dullness of celebrity which I grew up with. When you live in certain parts of LA, celebrities lose their attraction and you can take them as normal folks.

October began with starting in my first professional Improvisation Troupe, LA Connection, and a continued pursuit of stand up comedy. I loved improv, but found stand up to be incredibly hard. I still believe it is more of an art than a craft. When I am in a comedic play and no one laughs, there are many people to blame. But, when I am up on a comedy stage and no one laughs, there is no way around the realization that it can only be that I am not funny. I am grateful that never really happened to me, while some jokes are better than others, I never really bombed. Just before Halloween, I went to a party with the girls and a neighbor of the person throwing the party showed up. She was very pretty and for some reason had an interest in me and I did not find out until later that she was actually 17. Her name was Amy and we began dating that night and continued for 10 1/2 weeks...I always thought that was funny because out relationship was one week longer and just a little more screwed up than the one profiled in the film "9 1/2 weeks."

Chris then, Chris now

It is a difficult thing when life brings you truly face to face with the guy you used to be. It is one thing to tell my story. I look back and remember, in a rather disconnected way, the youth who lied or who was a snake with women. I see a guy who I don't have a lot in common with anymore and can tell the story pretty easily. And then facebook came along....

Now I get friend requests from people I haven't seen in 25 years and they say, "hey aren't you the guy who did ____?" It feels like someone dragging me back into the state of mind that I have left far behind. There is no reminiscence, only fear and pain and self-loathing. It has the effect of making me want to crawl inside a shell. How could THAT guy ever come to anything good? He was just a partier, a scammer, a liar, a dog. He could never be better than where he came from, could he? These thoughts run through my head and I am stifled, set back, ashamed and alone.

But then I remember. On August 3rd, 1986, the God of all compassion and grace lifted me personally out of the muck, out of the miry clay, and set me on dry land. He lifted me up, He dusted me off and said, "It is good." I must remember that I have been redeemed and that I am not that guy anymore. I have been forgiven, I have been set free, I am not alone, I am a new creature. Thank you God for that redemption and help me to be the one You made me to be.

sometimes I just need to repeat it...

My wife is the coolest spouse ever. She is gifted, talented, amazing, beautiful and her existence flies in the face of my belief that nothing original ever happens. She is new and original and interesting everyday. We have been married for over 17 years and she gets better looking every day. She is supportive in the worst of times and a constant partner in the best. She is a blessing from God that I have never deserved and proof that He loves me even with all of my faults. She is funny, and there is just no price that can be put on that. We laugh our days away together and I can only thank God for her presence in my life. Thanks, God!

the Watchmen

Okay, I promised I would critique the film, so here goes...

First the good stuff:
The Watchmen is an intense and gripping film, with a compelling story which keeps you involved and interested for all of the 2 hours and 43 minutes of screen time. It is an artistic masterpiece of visual imagery, that while at times grotesque, is stunningly beautiful all the same. The film embraces some pretty large concepts of the nature of humanity, the nature of evil and the existence of God. It embraces the questions without any real resolution, and yet does so in a satisfying way. When I used to sneak into film classes with friends, I remember the professors telling us that there were certain elements of film which the average American audience simply could not accept. One of those was showing the death of a child, another is a story or concept which does not truly resolve. There is a story arc, and it must resolve to be satisfying. The Watchmen was able to have a pretty satisfactory ending, even though it did not resolve, because it showed a perception of life as it is and sometimes life is like that. The fascinating thing is that it showed life as it is through the lens of life as it is not. A fantastic tale is always the best way to address the larger concepts in life, in my opinion. At one point, one of the characters is treating us to a disgusting and graphic memory of death and torture and evil and he says to the person interrogating him, "I used to be mad at God for all that is wrong in the world, all the evil. But he didn't make it this way, we did." This film, however, does not only propagate one view of God, evil and salvation, but presents a multitude of beliefs as varied as the characters and leaves the audience to resolve what is true. It does not preach, it presents, and I for one appreciate that in art.

And on to the bad stuff:
It is, in many parts, pornographic. I don't just mean the sex scenes and the gratuitous nudity (I haven't seen that much male full-frontal nudity since Shaft, the Richard Roundtree one), I mean it is also pornographic in its violence. The violence is so over-the-top, so gory, so gratuitous that the audience is left numb. As anecdote, I will say it perfectly represents that genre of graphic novels and represents them well in feel and substance. However, it is just too much for me. It was disturbing and I won't be seeing it a second time, but I can not say I disagree with the choice. From an artistic sense, it was the right choice, but from a viewer's perspective, it was too much (not that my opinion will matter much, it is making gobs of money at the box office).

I guess, in the end, I would use the following adjectives for this film: brilliant, artistic, beautiful, compelling and fascinating. All the same, I can not recommend that anyone go see it for the disturbing content is just too much.

Part LIII

The spring and summer of 1988 were actually pretty fun and carefree. I was promoted to also work night shifts at Charley Brown's in April, which greatly increased my income. The need for me to work Sunday Brunch all but removed all of my church friends from my life and had it not been for dating Debbie, I probably would have had no connection with any Christians. Debbie had turned from this cool quirky girl I knew to what I am sure she thought was a model Christian girlfriend. Though I had never seen her in a dress up until then, she began wearing more conservative clothes and in early summer had facial reconstructive surgery (because her teeth did not meet in front, I guess, I never really noticed). While she was recovering, and during the weeks her jaw was wired shut, I would ride my bike to work in the morning, ride to her house in between shifts then ride home after the evening shift. I was riding about 36 miles per day and as you can imagine, keeping in pretty good shape.

Two things happened in the early summer. One was my bike got stolen, so I could not go see Debbie anymore. The second was some summer hires. My friend, Nancy, was the main training server at CB and we got along pretty well. I was an over-the-top flirt, all the time, and usually hung out with the girls. In May, I had become one of the trainers and in early June we had hired some summer help, mostly consisting of people coming back from college. One of those people was a girl I trained and was soon to be a friend, Monica. Monica, Nancy and I were inseparable for the rest of the summer and we would hang out, party, drink at bars and even go to the County Fair or the beach regularly. It was like I lived two different lives that summer. I still saw some friends from church like Paul and Allan and Joe, but mostly in odd places away from church and the facts of my dismissal and the judgment I felt from the people at Valley began its slow turn into bitterness against other Christians.

In August, I responded to an open call in San Francisco that a friend had turned me on to and received an offer to perform one of the leads in a film. The film was a full-length feature, but also a Graduate Film at Loyola Marymount University in West LA. Although I was told they had every interest in releasing the film to a large audience, and I would be paid a percentage of the profits, I was too inexperienced in the ways of the entertainment business to realize that they always say that. Shooting was set to begin in late September, but since Monica was headed back to UCLA the first week in September, I decided to give notice at CB and hitch a ride with her and another girl who went to UCLA. I gave my room mates just a week's notice and called my Mom to move onto her couch. Apparently, I told Mom that I was coming to LA to go to college, then promptly forgot I told her that. So I burned the bridge at the fun and profitable job at Charley Brown's, again screwed over someone I was living with and dumped Debbie for no reason other than I wanted more of a party life and she was keeping me tied to my faith. Full of hope of stardom, and forgetting about my faith, my friends and my past, I headed to LA to again start over.

too much to blog

I had a full day yesterday. I was enlightened to find that my perception is not always reality, and I saw what I can only describe as a truly beautiful and equally disturbing film.

First, I am a perceptive guy who is not particularly observant. It is an odd combination, because I realize that drawing a conclusion without all the facts is usually a bad idea. Yet I find myself often correct in my conclusions about people. While I do not see detail in my surroundings, I do see the smallest facial change or inflection of voice adjustment, the timing of a phrase or a sigh. I can tell you whether a smile is genuine from someone without ever remembering or even noticing the color of their eyes. I do not say this to say, "hey, look at me, look how cool I am." Rather I say it to let you know the strangeness of my perception. I come from a family of con men and I learned pretty early, or perhaps it is an innate trait, to read a person or a room.

Second, I am a rather uncompromising guy. Some see this as good, some see it as bad. In movies, the hero is always uncompromising. In the same movies, the uncompromising guy almost always dies. He is a tragic figure and I usually admire him greatly. The difficulty is that uncompromising can be seen as arrogant, unfeeling, uncaring or totally incapable of recognizing when you are wrong. And, honestly, none of those are true about me. While it is true that I believe myself to be right all the time, it is only because I would not say it if I didn't think it was right. Personally, I think everyone thinks they are right all the time, some people are just less eager to admit it. I can't imagine holding an opinion in which I have no confidence of being correct. But, I do realize all the time that I could be wrong. I do care. I do feel.

So yesterday, I went to talk to my friend about a certain defensiveness which was hurting my feelings and came face to face with the reality that my passionate convictions were hurting her feelings. I had no intention of hurting anyone's feelings, especially someone I care about. I wish I could say it was the first time it had ever happened. I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, between care and conviction. I feel a responsibility to say what is on my heart, which is different than what is on my mind. I can't describe how they are different, but they are. I am fully willing to be proven wrong, but I have heard no one even try. It is simpler to be upset with the delivery than to truly address the issue, I know I do the same all the time. But if my delivery was insensitive, please forgive me, it was not intended to hurt, but to share a conviction or convict others in a similar fashion. I guess the question I will have to answer is whether it is okay to feel right, when I feel so bad about hurting a friend's feelings. Or is this just another of those tensions in life? I was told yesterday that it felt like judging when I say things like, "My God is bigger than that." Maybe it is, but it is not towards the individual, but to the whole body of believers and the response I hope for is that since we worship the same God, you are not seeing Him as big as He is. Not somehow that you are not worshipping the same God. And, it is not my judgment, I have no right to judge anyone. But I want so much more from this church and the Church as a whole. I want us to see God for who He is, rather than living with the fear that He is not who we believe Him to be. He is a provider, a redeemer, a savior, Truth, Love, Life. If we do not look for Him out there where He wants us to step, He will meet us right back here where we are willing to stay...because He loves us. But it is simply not a good reason to stay back, to hold back or to step back. God calls us to freedom and we are content with safety. Anyway, I don't want to get up on the soapbox again. Just please hear me that I am sorry that I hurt your feelings, and that goes to anyone who has not let me know that as well....I am sure the list is long.

This blog entry is getting long also, so I will get to the movie tomorrow or the next day. It was beautiful, artistic, well made and I can not say this strongly enough....don't go see it

Part LII

A couple of weeks later, as the rain and cold got a little unbearable, Gary let me move into a different vacant room at his house. I had begun working at a stationary store at Valley Fair Mall and had within a week or two moved into a supervisory position. I was not attending church as much as I might, preferring to look for another church while no one knew what I was doing. Most of the time, I told people I had to work. After a short period of time, I gave up looking and mostly went to Valley Church again. I just didn't feel comfortable anywhere else, even though I often did not feel welcome there.

I was again invited to spend Christmas with Paul and his family, but when Christmas day came, I got the call that Paul was in the hospital with some complications of a surgery he had had as an infant (I think...Paul will have to correct me if I am wrong). So, we spent Christmas day in the hospital and I actually had a pretty good time hanging out. The day after Christmas, as most people know, is the busiest shopping day of the year. I called my work to let them know that I would be late and that I was going to stop in to see my friend at the hospital. They did not take kindly to this, and the manager and I got into an argument on the phone which resulted in my quitting my job and spending the whole day with Paul. I don't think he knew about that. But, I was once again out of work and a short time later, Gary (seeing a familiar pattern) asked me to move out.

I next took a short-term job as a telemarketer for the San Jose Mercury News, but that job really sucked so it only lasted about two weeks. In the meantime, I was staying with my friend Bobby (who has since worked on Capitol Hill for Rep. Bob Barr and Rep. Phil Gingery - no connection there, I am just proud of him) or sometimes with my friends Peter and Lee. Peter and Lee lived in a 3 bedroom apartment with a couple. The couple were odd enough, most notably because the girl was a paraplegic who refused to wear depends so she literally pissed on everything without knowing it. I am not kidding. Peter was a friend from Choir and Small Ensemble who I could not help but pick on, I don't know why. Lee was one of the linemen I used to go to dinner with on the football team, and hung out with quite a bit the summer after I graduated. In late February, I began working as a daytime server at Charley Brown's Steak & Seafood and Peter, Lee and I moved into our own 3 bedroom apartment. I also began dating a girl from church named Debbie. Debbie was a neat girl, a little different from everyone else, and we were friends. When I showed up at her birthday party without a present, I instead told her I would take her out for her birthday. I didn't mean anything by it, but she took it as a date and we began dating. I like my job, lived in a place for which I was on the lease, was dating a girl...things were okay and would remain that way for a good six months.

Part LI

As soon as the job was finished at church, I literally had nowhere to go. Since I still had keys to the church, I took to sleeping in the building across the parking lot where the College group met. I had a sleeping bag, but was once again as homeless as it gets. I decided to turn myself in at Ft. Ord in Monterey CA, because even jail was better than homelessness. So, in mid September of 1987, I took a bus to Ft. Ord and got the haircut and turned myself in.

The experience was considerably different than what I had assumed. First, we didn't do anything and we weren't thrown in the brig. 10,000 service members per year go AWOL and apparently there are not enough jails for all of us. We each had some light duty (cleaning, sweeping, KP) on one of the days and spent the rest playing basketball or processing. One of the days of processing, you have to go see the CO and he asks a few questions. Mine went like this:

Captain: Why did you go AWOL?
Me: For a girl, sir.
Captain: Ok, is she still around?
Me: No, sir.
Captain: They never are. What would you do if I sent you back to your unit?
Me: That could happen, sir? That would be great! It was the worst mistake of my life.
Captain: Ok, dismissed.

The next day, I went to see the less positive version of an officer...a JAG corps officer (defense attorneys who serve the Army, not you). My JAG Off. (yep, that's what they are called) let me know that opting to return to my unit opens me to court martial and though not a definite probability of action, there was a possibility that they would send me to jail. Well, a few nice nights in a barracks and I forgot all about how comfy jail might be. I accepted the deal proposed to me, which was a UOTH discharge (a general discharge given Under Other Than Honorable circumstances) and immediate terminal leave. In all, I was at Ft. Ord for all of 3 days.

Since I had nothing else to do, I took a bus to LA to visit with Darin and my Mom, who had moved to Marina del Rey with Ted that year (Who she had to marry twice also, because she had never divorced Bud...making Ted #6 & #7). Darin's girlfriend was buying a new car and offered to sell her old car, a 1970 Chevy Monte Carlo, to me. As I had no money, no job and no prospects of a job, I agreed to pay $600 in installments of $25 per month. I made a call to my step-brother John, who was stationed at a Naval Air Station in Hanford CA, and we agreed to meet up so I could meet his new baby girl. As I headed up the 5 (that's highway 5 for you non-Californians), Darin's girlfriend let me know that the car sometimes stalled. All one had to do was make sure to put it in park or it would not restart. I don't remember the turn off to get to Hanford, but I do remember I went the wrong way. Off on some two lane road, I realized my error and decided since I was in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, I would make a u-turn. The car stalled out sideways across the road. Remembering Suzy's words, I put the car in park and proceeded to flood the engine. Looking up, I could see a car coming in the far distance, I mean far, it could have been a mirage. I turned the key and the car tried to start, but didn't get there. The car was getting closer and I figured, of course he will stop. I tried to start up with a much more frantic move that probably ensured that it would not start. I reached my arm out to wave as if to say, "hello...I am here." Realizing that the car was not slowing, I pulled my hand in and leaped to the other side of the front seat. Unfortunately, I was seat-belted in so I didn't get far. The car hit me on the driver's side door going over 80 miles per hour. Later the police would tell me that the fact that you could read "Oldsmobile" across my door meant that he was accelerating into it. He was an old man and I think he hit the wrong pedal...it was either that or he was trying to kill me.

Luckily and un-luckily, my window was down. It was shattered inside the door instead of on my face, but since that was my new home and we were headed into colder months...it was a bummer. I got back to the bay area in the early hours of Saturday, September 26th, 1987. I felt a little free and not so worried. Yes, it sucks to live in your car, but the seats were pretty comfortable to sleep on until it started raining.