Welcome to Church, Enjoy the Show

Today was a strange day capping off a strange week.
I decided to fast because this week was full of shit, and I wanted it out of my system. Starting the week fresh.
I took a hike, worked out for 30 minutes, and I felt good. Bought a desk calendar to remedy a previous fuckup, and I'm set.
So then I go to church - pretty standard on a Sunday. Only my trendy and interesting church pushed things a little too far. This week, we were encouraged to bring friends to church. Okay, great. And they have little gifts for first-time attenders. Personally, it'd be nice if they did this every week. Then people who found the place on their own would also receive a warm welcome, not just those humoring the weirdo at work.
Aaaaanyway - the service continues, and it's pretty neat. Lots of music. Creepy guy who can't clap sat next to me. And then it became showy in a way that it'd hadn't before. Instead of the usual three people on stage, everyone dressed a little hipper, and there was a guy with an acoustic guitar. And a dance team. We've had dance before, but seriously? The service proceeds, and the welcome is overwarm, the entire pastoral staff is there, and next thing I know Michael Jackson's Man in the Mirror is being performed by the choir. Really? Aren't we pandering just a little? When they come back next week and realize we're still church, won't people feel a little duped? I understand putting one's best foot forward, but today was the first time since attending this particular church in LA I felt like a kid back in the Evangelical Free Church in the Midwest at the big exciting rally. Jesus was never flashy. He was certainly consistent in the way he presented people. There was no need to "lure people in." People went to him with problems or went to him when they didn't have anyplace else to go. I feel like that's common enough in LA that as long as a church presents itself as a safe place without judgment, people will come and stay and listen to what it's all about.
But the pandering was obvious, and it was slightly embarrassing. That's not my God, that's not my belief, and even I felt a little intimidated by just how trendy awesome everything was.
Oh well. No place is perfect just like no people are perfect. All is forgiven, and I will, of course, be back next week.

Revolutionary Road

About an hour ago, I finished the film Revolutionary Road. I didn't know what to expect coming into it, but the ending threw me. I got it, I had heard it was coming, but that scene in front of the window hurt to watch. It hurt and it was real and it was honest and it was beautiful all at the same time. I haven't been moved by a film like that since 2007. Actually, that's not true because "It's a Wonderful Life" just threw me like Lincecum throws pitches, but this is too much at once.
Melatonin to sleep tonight. My brain hurts.

I'm Not There

I'm still not back from my trip - at least my brain isn't. I spent no time going out at home and nearly all my time visiting different people in Chicago. Sleep in, lunch, drinks, dinner, night - each with a different person or people every single day. I did not pace myself well, and I did not get to see as many folks in Rock Island as I would have liked. And my visits in Chicago were imbalanced - perhaps I tried to see too many people. But such is circumstance. So much of grown up is lost in silence. We run out of words or we never get the chance to say them.
And now I'm back at work. New year means lots of small adjustments. It's also given me a chance to really reorganize my desk and my cabinets to fit me. Gotta love the purge.
My body aches - I've been working it too hard in my morning workouts, especially after 12 days of gluttony. And I haven't slept. And I read Twilight. My brain is just beyond friend.
Plus, the script I was editing was a real downer. I'm glad to have some time away from it.
Sorry to be so whiny. I'm actually quite happy. Just totally lost and distracted and scared about my first whole year as a grown up. No school, no grades, no classes. Just life.
Oy.

Some Kinda New Year

12 days, uncountable calories, one coat, two gloves, a zillion happy reunions, several fuck-ups, revelations, mystical experiences, tears, smiles, and hugs later, and I am back in LA.

And I'm glad for it.

LA is home now, in a weird "Hi, I reside in Hell." sort of way.

It was funny to realize that I wanted to be here, but I do. I may not always like it, but perhaps that's just the way life is supposed to be. We're not meant to be entirely happy or feel entirely good all the time.
Leaving Rock Island was easy, except for saying good-bye to my family. Saying good-bye to friends in Chicago was easy, but leaving the city was hard. I love Chicago, I love the CTA, I love easy access to everyone always, and I love walking. Even when it's -7 and I'm stuck in the frigid cold lost in Wrigleyville.

I've not felt like myself at all, though, since I've been back. I had a strange Saturday, and everything feels like a lucid dream, not like reality. Which is a shame because it's a reality I'm ready to embrace.

Oh well. I'm going to blame air travel. While still drunk. Or hungover maybe. Thanks mom, for that January 1st flight. I pulled an all-nighter on New Year's Eve into New Year's Day, jumped in a cab, hopped on a plane, attempted and failed to sleep sitting next to a fat person, and then attempted and failed to sleep sitting next to an interesting piano teacher from San Francisco. Then I failed to sleep when I got home because I was not sure how to feel. And in all this, I forgot to eat at all.

Oh me.

Happy New Year!