As I have mentioned before in earlier posts, I listen to a lot of audio books at work. Because I borrow a lot of them from my sister, there is quite a bit of variety in my selection. If I had my own library, it would be mostly Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Because of my sister, I have delved into everything from The Hunger Games to Fifty Shades of Grey to Atlas Shrugged. I was recently thinking about some of the autobiographies I had come across in my listening: the first was Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith; second was American on Purpose by Craig Ferguson; and the third was Bossy Pants by Tina Fey. All were good books, and I enjoyed them very much, but I find autobiographies usually make me react in two ways.
Firstly, autobiographies give me brief spurts of creative energy: I get momentarily inspired and work furiously on a project for a week or so. Then my well runs dry, I lose focus (or life ends up running me over) and the project I was working on gets abandoned (until my next inspirational surge). I keep hoping I can ride one of these spurts of energy to greatness, but soon realize that success does not come instantaneously. The people who wrote these books tell tales of struggle and accomplishment and I seem to forget about those pesky struggling parts. There is also the sense of time that is missed. When Kevin Smith says that he worked hard to get the money, talent, equipment and the time to shoot his movie Clerks and it is told on two or three pages, one can lose sight of the fact that it was accomplished over many months, if not years. No one achieves fame or success overnight, unless their step dad is Bruce Jenner and they are "caught" on a sex tape,and then it's all reality shows and non-stop media coverage. (Hmmmm, a sex tape... yeah no, this will never happen!)
Secondly, I find that autobiographies make me feel absolutely pathetic. I read/listen to the author tell how they had a dream and then proceeded to make it happen. There were usually trials and tribulations along the way, but despite it all, they persevered. I think that I am supposed to be inspired and run out and try to make my dreams a reality, but it usually backfires and just makes me feel worse about my life.
Let me say before I go on, that I have few regrets in my life, and I am by no means unhappy with my life at the present. I have an amazing wife, awesome children and it seems that things are only getting better with each passing year. I can't even say that I regret my first marriage, although granted, it certainly wasn't the best time of my life; but I ended up adopting 3 awesome kids whom I love very much, so how could I could I ever say that I truly regretted it?
When I say these books make me feel worse about my life, I mean my professional life. I have always been a dreamer and that has manifested itself in many ways. I have always been interested in art. My mother told me that when I was in Kindergarten I drew a picture that the teacher had shown her of an Indian (I'm sorry, Native American) village, or something like that. The teacher was impressed by the details I put in the picture, including the blood dripping out of the arrow wounds of the little stick people.
As I got older I became a doodler and took a couple of art classes in high school, probably the mandatory ones. I don't remember any art teacher ever saying, "Hey John, that's pretty good," or giving me any other encouragement, so I certainly did not think of art as anything but a fun hobby. I would not give art a second thought until I was a sophomore in college, where I was bitten by the Walt Disney bug. That is the phrase that I apply to that delusional moment when you say to yourself, "Why, you can do anything you want in life, as long as you work hard and follow your dreams."
Maybe delusional is not a fair statement, some people know exactly what they want to do with their lives and doggedly pursue their dreams. Most people don't make it, but some do, and then write autobiographies about their accomplishments. For goodness sake, Justin Bieber has an autobiography, and he is only 20 years old.... isn't this a bit premature? He obviously knew what he wanted to do at an early age and went for it. To be honest, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I am 43.
I started college with the intent on taking computer programming, because that seemed like it would be something that I could make some good money with later in life. After getting a 2.5 in my first semester class and a 2.0 (my lowest grade ever) in the second class, I decided I needed to shift my focus. That is when the Walt Disney bug actually bit me. I always enjoyed doodling as a kid, even tried to make some comic book characters (I still remember one of my heroes was Tsunami Man--though, with the disasters of the last few years, maybe that would not have been the greatest Superhero name.) so I thought I'd give art a shot. I did pretty well and my grades improved dramatically and I was actually enjoying my classes. I even made the Dean's List 3 of my last 4 semesters.
Then I graduated and got accepted into grad school at the Memphis College of Art in Memphis, Tennessee. Unfortunately, I got married before I started (I will tell this tale in detail at another time) and ended up dropping out halfway through the first semester. That was probably the last time I really did any art. There was a brief time when a good friend recruited me to help with a project that he started. I was very excited about it but the project ended up falling to the wayside. I really wasn't in a position to help that much; between a demanding wife and three active kids, free time was at a minimum. I got a few sketches to him but that was about it. Besides, for me, art is something that needs to be kept up with and one can't expect to not draw anything for a decade and jump right back into it. (I am happy to say that the work he did turned into his first novel. I have plugged it before and I will again: The Daedalus Incident by Michael J. Martinez. He has also turned out a novella called The Gravity of the Affair and book two of the series, The Enceladus Crisis, is coming out May 6th, Order it now on Amazon. He didn't even pay me for that plug!) So for now, the dream of becoming a great artist/illustrator has been set aside.
I have always loved stand up comedy as well. In high school I listened to Andrew Dice Clay, Sam Kinison, Eddie Murphy, Bill Cosby and whatever comedy albums I could get my hands on. I would dream about getting up on stage and performing, even going so far as writing some bits up. My classmates voted me class clown and everyone always complimented me on how funny I was. Unfortunately, I grew up in a small farm town in upstate New York and was nowhere near any comedy venues or open mic nights. Besides this, I was incredibly shy. Around people I was comfortable with, I could say whatever I wanted and act however I needed to in order to get a laugh. The thought of doing the same thing in front of strangers was terrifying.
When I got to college nothing really changed, except I had access to actual live comedy shows. The school had a comedy series and would regularly get comedians to perform at the school. I went to as many shows as I could, watching, taking in their acts, wishing I had the guts to do the same thing. I never did. We did have a little talent show for two years in International House, the place I resided for most of my college career. One year I sang a duet with my good friend Jalal, who sadly is no longer with us. We sang Ram it Down by Judas Priest, a capella. There was no real preparation--we just agreed to do it and read the lyrics off the cassette jacket, with fist hammering motions. It went over well and we got some good laughs. I cannot sing, which is why it was probably entertaining to watch.
The other year at the talent show I decided to show off my juggling skills. I talked while I was juggling and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I know it was just a little thing, but the adrenaline rush I got and the energy I got from the crowd was awesome. But, it was not enough to get me to try it again. Where the people in the autobiographies would have used the experience as a catalyst to their future careers, I just went on living, never trying to achieve more. Then I left school, got married, and just let the dream of becoming a stand up comedian fade away as well.
Another dream I have had (and still have) is becoming a writer. I know this may be a surprise, as you read my blog (that was sarcasm, by the way), but I would love to write something someday. My brain is constantly bombarded with story ideas and I have started numerous projects. Unfortunately, I pretty much blew off English classes in school, never having the slightest interest in writing until maybe the last 10 years or so.
English and writing were the furthest things from my mind when I was in college; I guess my brain has only so much dream capacity. When I got out of college and my other dreams seemed to be unattainable (not that they really were in actuality, I just wasn't mental/spiritually capable of making them happen-- in other words I was too much of a coward to take a chance), I started thinking about writing.
I frequently have had story ideas pop into my head. I think part of it comes from all the fantasy roleplaying I do. Constantly coming up with adventures to run my friends through really gets the creative juices flowing. For those unfamiliar with fantasy roleplaying, basically it is creating stories that your friends take an active part in. You create a story with an open plot and the players, who take on the roles of the protagonists, interact with the setting you have created and try to resolve the mystery/adventure/whatever the story is about.
I have actually written a book, but it currently resides in two one-subject notebooks, that I am now very slowly rewriting and getting into an electronic format. I have tried writing a couple of screenplays and have several movie ideas bouncing through my head which I hope someday to get down. This dream I haven't "abandoned" yet.
There are other projects I have started: I tried to develop a card game and often think of coming up with my own roleplaying game or system. But, this post is now getting waaaay too long, so I will not go into any other dreams I have had. Let me get back to the main topic--if you remember, it was about autobiographies--so I can wrap this up.
All I know is that I have been writing this blog since last May--believe me, I am stunned I haven't given up on it by now. It's amazing how much more you can achieve with a supportive wife. (And one who does understand how the English language works. I should publish a post that she hasn't edited and you will see how bad my grammar is.)
As I reread this blog, I realized that I did little more than whine about how I haven't really followed any of my dreams. All I have to say is, not yet! I haven't given up; I still have plenty of years to turn this around and I am going to do it! In fact, this post has nearly inspired me to write my own autobiography. Why should famous people have all the fun? Instead of tales of inspiration from those who have traveled the road to success, you can hear the tale of a chubby kid with low self-esteem and high hopes, who grew into a chubby guy with low self-esteem, working a dead-end job. A guy who found the courage to leave a bad marriage after 15 years and ended up reconnecting and marrying an old college friend he hadn't talked to in over seven years. A girl who makes him feel like his dreams are attainable and who is more of an inspiration than any book I have ever read or listened to. This, by the way, is just a cheap ploy to get her to continue editing my blog, but don't tell her that.
