The Re-Split

Still in the Bubble....

My life, at present, involves splitting the hands I've been dealt.  In blackjack, you get to do this on occasion, when you get dealt cards of equal value: you bet extra chips and ask the dealer to split your hand and deal you two more cards, giving you two hands to play with. Some rules say you can re-split if you end up with two more hands of equal value each, playing up to four hands.  Evidently, whoever made those rules either encountered my current situation and found a gambling application for it, or they're secretly running the world and are trying to screw with me by giving me a precarious embarassment of opportunities.

I'm currently playing four hands.  I have to play all four because I don't know if one, more, or all four are going to bust and leave me broke, like those four hobos I encountered in Las Vegas who were forced to perform Flavah Flav hip-hop numbers for pennies outside the Venetian.  I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen: I'm not hip enough to cover those rhymes, and my beatboxing skills are somewhat lacking.

First Hand. My job with the government requires that I test at the advanced level on written French.  I must do this by Halloween or I may find myself unemployed.  My first of possibly two tests is on September 23rd: I say "possibly" because if I do not rate "advanced" this time, I only have one more shot before October 31st.  As such, I'm spending the next ten days practicing, writing drill tests for two to three hours every day on my own time.  Common sense dictates you save the job you have.  It's your only sure bet.  Plus, this is my last requirement: after this, I'm permanent, and union-protected. 

Second Hand.  That being said, I am still applying to other positions in the government.  I also have to make time for this in case I do find myself on EI in two and a half-months time and looking for work.  Given the speed at which government moves to get anything done, this is the time to apply to jobs posted now.  They'll start calling me back just when I need them to the most.  Of course, this also requires me to devote time to resume creation, requiring more coffee and face time in front of a computer.

Third Hand:  Convergence.  Sometimes I forget that the novel is my main life career goal.  Of course, people at work have already advised me to put this on the backburner, but frankly, it's not their place to tell me this.  As it happens, though, I'm currently caught in writer's block trying to wrap it up, but my goal is to have it finished before I turn 30.  That's three and a half weeks away, so the clock is ticking. 

Fourth Hand: Acting.  Yes, you read that correctly.  During Ribfest, I was approached by a film and TV talent agency that was looking for people with no experience.  They only pick 650 people a year to represent, don't charge money up front (they make money only if they land you a job, then they take 20%) and are one of the more reputable talent agencies around (they have submitted talent for TV ads for major banks, extra and speaking roles for Hollywood features, etc..).  I'd initially approached them on behalf of a friend who's already in the industry, then, in a moment of Hollywood fantasy indulgence, decided to sign myself up.  I acted in high school, in drama and in the musical, and it was fun, so I thought I'd try something new. 

A few days ago, they called me to come in and create a profile, which I did on Saturday.  Turns out someone of my complexion and age is hard to find: most 29 year old Indian-looking males are either big managers or bankers or computer people, don't look as attractive, or have personal and or cultural reasons not to go into acting.

I've never felt prouder to be a corporate failure than I do now.

They may already have an audition for me, and for the next few years, I'm in a very small demographical niche as far as acting and modeling talent is concerned.  I'll find out soon enough, but I'll have to find a licensed entertainment photographer to produce head shots. How this works into my existing work schedule remains to be seen, but it's a new adventure, and I can't say no to a new adventure.  Those who risk, win.

This is only career-related stuff.  I'm doing all of this as the same time that I'm exercising, looking for a new relationship, working with my existing groups and friendships while trying to make new ones, family time....ugh, it's insane. 

All said, this is the busiest month I've had in the longest time.  It's entirely possible that it all falls apart: acting doesn't pan out, my novel never gets done, I never get any of those other jobs and I bomb my bilingual test and end up being let go.  But playing all four hands boosts my chances of success like you wouldn't believe, so even though they contradict each other, I have to play like a champion.

Good thing I'm living my days a minute at a time.  Any more and I'd likely develop an ulcer.

A Lone Wolf in a Bubble Universe

Every now and then, I find myself in a bubble universe.

Growing up, I was a lone wolf.  Never the most popular kid on the playground, always lost in my own daydreams at recess (and not always by choice), I spent a lot of time wandering around the trees and bike paths, reading, drawing, writing, and just thinking.  High school came around, and I started making friends, met a girl there who I eventually followed to university, where I would then meet some of my closest friends, more family than family in many cases.  For much of the past ten years, I was a social being, a denizen of a community and civilization, seldom a day passing by when I didn't see or talk to someone I knew.

As for that girl, I would live with her for most of my twenties, marry her, and ultimately split from her. My family of friends remained, although many of them have either moved away, or our day-to-day lives have tended to diverge.  These days, for the most part, I've become a lone wolf again, and I've returned to exploring the wild.

I'm ambivalent about my alone time.  Loneliness abounds, and yet so does freedom.  I sleep alone, and yet I sleep wherever I want.  Often, I miss having someone to come home to, and yet I come and go as I please.  It's all a contradiction made manifest, my life at present.  Sometimes, though, I question whether it's that I choose this lifestyle, or if I've just gotten used to it.

Then, the bubble appears.

The human experience of existence sometimes generates more solitary shamans than venerated priests, of which I am definitely more of the former.  At this moment, I'd rather live with what feels right than what makes rationalistic or intellectual sense; would rather express sentiment, not argument; do what I want, even if the group begs to differ.  When I feel this way, I know that I'm in the bubble.

Several signs also indicate that my universe has become a bubble.  For starters, my sarcasm has lost all effectiveness.  I make jokes, friendly jibes towards my friends, and they all fall flat, creating irritation and making me appear to be a first-class douche.  It's as if some invisible force field has appeared between me and the rapport I've built with my closest friends over the past decade and they no longer "get me". Trying more simply pisses them off, making me want to withdraw rather than risk creating additional faux-pas.

Then I go the other way: I stop censoring myself on blogs and status updates and just say what's on my mind without giving a shit what people think. I ignore the stronger Alpha personalities trying to get me to do things I don't feel like doing.  As grateful as I am for my family of friends, I begin to reject the group.

I know I'm in the bubble because currently, I'm very productive in my personal life - papers signed and delivered, bills paid, dust-bunnies cleaned, stories completed, weights lifted, ellipticals run.  Similarly, while accomplishing old tasks and fulfilling old habits, I'm also seeking out new experiences, the types of things that I can best do alone when the group isn't leading me.  I've held leadership positions in the past, but I've never had an overriding urge to be in charge, to tell people what they can and can't do.  But nor do I want to be told what to do by someone else, not right now, anyway. 

Finally....I'm in the bubble because, well, I just prefer being alone.  It's that simple.

And yet, not completely.

Living with a romantic partner for years gets you accustomed to having another soul around, someone who's not just a "buddy", and as much as you can adapt and actually prosper as a single, independent, and free person, there is always a residual part of you that aches for one person to be there to hold you tight, to be intimate with, and to keep you warm at night.  No amount of buddy time, whether it's spent watching a game or trying to pick up girls at a club or a bar, is going to help: when I'm in the bubble, such activities only serve to remind me of what I don't have.  No, when my universe becomes rather bubbly, I work best finding new love on my own terms.

Far from being a form of weakness, this desire and yearning for intimacy is a part of the human experience, one that I never want to lose for the temporary sake of not feeling sad. Because, ultimately, in life as in fable, even the lone wolves of the world find each other, on their own terms, when the time's right. 

The bubble universe will burst, a not-so-Big Bang that will start everything fresh, restore the connections, bring me back to civilization.  Eventually, I'll re-emerge, but not today. 

Today, I'm in the wild. 

See you next time.