Creativity

Last page of a story I wrote in 3rd grade

When I was a little kid all I liked to do was draw and paint.  I used to make books of my drawings -  for instance, I once drew the alphabet in animals with names that corresponded to very letter.  Art supplies were always my favorite gifts.  I was obsessed with a Crayola Caddy that my mom bought me for Christmas one year.  It was like a lazy susan that was filled with paint, markers, pencils and crayons in a rainbow of Crayola colors.  I even won a few prizes at art shows and contests around town and had a watercolor painting a did of a deer in snow with a fuchsia sky on display at the local library branch.
     I'm not exactly sure when I let the creativity slip away for the 1st time.  My parents got divorced when I was 7 and that was physically, mentally and emotionally crippling for me at that age.  Some other traumatizing life events took place after that coupled with the fact that I was cruelly teased and bullied in school - all of this lead me to retreat within myself with a profound desire to escape and disappear.  I exiled myself to TV Land and anything else that would distract me from the emotional pain I felt in reality.  I would shop lift and spend my whole afternoon at the arcade and slowly and surly the creative stuff fell by the wayside.  Of course later on when I discovered drugs and alcohol it was a match made in heaven - until it turned to hell.
     When I got to high school I finally had like minded friends.  We were definitely a motley crew but the thing that bound us all together was a level of intelligence that was generally missing from the majority of our high school peers.  We sought out cool bands and artists to explore and we challenged and accepted each other no matter what freaky style we had going on.  It was a pretty creative group to say the least.  In my senior year of high school I felt like I was ready to explore my creative outlets again, being surrounded by all of my artsy friends inspired me.  I took a ceramics class with this amazing art teacher that had been my mortal enemy in 9th grade.  This time around we got along like gang busters and I let her teach me and expand my horizons and it felt great to make art again.
     Around this time I had also started doing photography.  I took some classes and got an amazing camera for my Bday and even joined the yearbook committee which was a life saver my senior year.  It meant a stack of hall passes and "get outta class free" cards that my favorite English/Photography teacher & yearbook advisor had given me at the start of the year.  I spent a majority of my year stoned in the darkroom and then had the privilege of flooding my senior yearbook with photos of all the cool kids and paying little mind to the jocks.  It was a very Breakfast Club moment.
     Since then my life has been this constant tug-of-war between me and my creative side.  For some reason when life gets tough I'm generally inclined to let the artistic side go instead of exploring it and using it to reach new heights and depths of art.  These days I've gotten a lot better at expressing myself and even let some of my uglier truths rise to the surface so I can tell on myself and free myself from them.  The writing has helped a lot.
     I 1st got the idea to write a book of my stories about 8 years ago on a trip to Costa Rica.  I was going to meet a large group of friends, mostly from NYC, and when I booked my travel I had the dates wrong.  I ended up arriving 4 days before everyone else and it was the best thing that could've happened.  In those 4 days all of the stresses of city life melted away, I read 2 books and had this creative avalanche pour out of me when I put pen to paper to start jotting down one of my famous stories involving a really expensive pair of custom made pants and some cheap ass cocaine (you'll have to read the book!)  It was one of those moments when the words literally flowed out of me as if it wasn't even me writing.  The pen was furiously scribbling words on paper and I was sitting in the backseat like a passenger or observer.  When you have those moments while you are creating something it is truly magically - it's when everything aligns and you are really in the moment.
     Just this year I have re-committed myself to finishing this book that was conceived on the sands of the beach, next to the jungle of Costa Rica many moons ago.  I have been getting up every day a 1/2 hour earlier than normal so that I can write before my day gets going.  Some days it's a challenge and other days the words flow out from that magical sweet spot of creativity.  The book will be done in a few moths time and I cannot wait to share my ridiculous happenings with you and the world!!!!











   

Judgement

"The Last Judgement" by Hieronymus Bosch, 1482(ish)

I had a pretty big lesson in judgment yesterday.  It all started with a phone call from my Dad.  I don't talk to my Dad much, in fact, the last time we spoke on the phone was Christmas of 2013.  It's a complicated relationship - he left when I was 7 and for a while he would take me on the weekends until his alcoholism escalated and he could no longer show up.  Doesn't take Freud or Reich or Dr. Drew to figure out that all of my abandonment issues and fear of love stem from that.  My Dad put alcohol in his #1 slot and because of that everything else fell to the wayside.
     As most of you know I recently celebrated 13 years sober and now I can clearly see that my Dad's choices in life had nothing to do with me.  That was an impossibility to understand at 7, 8, 9, 10+ years old but now I have empathy for him and I know that he suffers more than anyone.  I have no idea if he's ever tried to stop drinking or even considered it but I do know that as an alcoholic myself it is a source of great shame in one's life.  It was in mine.
     My Dad is a very smart, funny, kind and compassionate man and he had the potential to do great things.  Unfortunately, that never happened.  I do not know what his darkness is and what demons he battles daily.  Alcoholism is a cunning mistress and you either have it or you don't - it doesn't matter what your background is.  Also, it takes A LOT of work to keep it at bay and not engage actively in it and most people afflicted by it do not overcome their fears or do not want to.  Anyone who has any experiences with people that are alcoholics know, too, that you cannot force, cajole, coax, or implore someone to change unless they really want to.
     My Dad called to say that Dar, his 4th wife, had passed away.  After finding a cyst on her back she was diagnosed with a rapidly expanding cancer that had riddled a large portion of her body.  It was too far gone for any treatment and there was nothing that could be done medically.  The diagnosis was around Thanksgiving and she passed away 2 days ago.  They had been together for 28 years.  He said that he was a basket case but he sounded much better than I would have given the circumstances.  
     We talked for a while about what had been going on leading up to this horrible event.  My Dad was telling me about his neighborhood and the friends they have and while he was telling me a story he nonchalantly told me a piece of information that floored me.  He said in a rather matter-of -fact manner that he had a side "business" that all the local people helped him with.  He said he collected cans to cash in for extra money so he didn't have to spend all his social security.  It broke my heart to hear him say this.  The way he said it though was so casual and without shame that it must seem completely normal to him with the lifestyle he leads.
     I was faced immediately with my own harsh and nasty judgments.  I call the people that collect cans "can farmers" and I get so angry when they rifle through my trash cans on garbage night.  Why?  Why do I judge so harshly?  Ironically, my biggest, most irrational fear is that will be homeless in the streets living in a cardboard box.  A lot of the people that collect cans aren't even homeless and, like my Dad, do it to get by and to survive.  It's actually a noble cause and another 1/2 full view is that it aides in cleaning up the trash and recycling.
     Still, here I was the person that is constantly thinking that I have to do more, make more, better myself and improve my station hearing that my Dad is a can farmer.  It really put me and my ego in check.  At least my Dad has caring people around him that bring him their bottles and cans because they know it helps him out.  At least it's a task he can accomplish or a reason to get out of the house.  I'm not sure how my Dad maintains a rather sunny disposition while constanlty faced with the grim reality of active alcoholism but somehow he does.  All I know is that next time I see someone on the street with their shopping cart full of cans and bottles that I will give them a warm smile instead of rolling my eyes and putting myself above any other human.

Ten - Thirteen

NYE 2014 - 2015

Ten years ago yesterday I moved to LA from NYC.  That also means that in 2 days, if all goes well, I will be sober for 13 years.  Those are pretty decent sized numbers if you ask me.  For about 8 years I was saying that I lived in LA for 5 years until I realized that I had been spouting that fact for at least 4 years running.  I'm not great at math but I came to the conclusion that I had been here longer than it seemed.  Sometimes I feel as if I just got here and it definitely does not feel like a decade has passed.

     I had been mulling over the prospect of "go west young man" for a few years but I just couldn't decide.  I asked other people what they thought and no one else had any satisfying answers either.  I waited until I had been sober for several years before I decided to uproot my life and go to the furthest coast away from the East Village.  It's suggested that you don't make any radical decisions in the 1st year of recovery because it's simple too overwhelming, stress inducing and, often, can trigger relapse.  Because of that I stayed working as a bar tender 5 nights a week while I was a newcomer to recovery.  The weird thing is that I became the best bar tender ever because all of the sudden I was focused on my job and concentrating on making money for the club and myself and not distracted by partying behind the bar.  Funny how things work.

     Once I made the firm decision in my mind that I was "Hollywood or bust" it seems that all of these doors magically unlocked.  The whole time I was hemming and hawing all of my plans and ideas seemed hazy but the moment I decided for sure doors sprang open.  A friend contacted me out of the blue because he had been traveling for over a year and was coming back to NYC in Jan. with just a backpack and no other belongings.  He needed a place to stay and I just happened to be leaving my apartment fully furnished.  Perfect.  

     Then, I had decided I should take an acting class in LA but the task of finding a good one seemed insurmountable.  One day I was out and about on a snowy, NYC afternoon and I stopped at one of my favorite places for lunch.  I heard a woman talking and her voice was instantly recognizable.  It was my Grandma's friend Jean-Ann who has a very distinctive, bold, boisterous, NY voice.  I approached her table and was going to ask if she remembered me (hadn't seen her in a decade) and she immediately looked up and proclaimed "Gregory!"  She said my grandma had mentioned my plans to relocate and then for no apparent reason I said I was going to look for an acting class.  Well, lo and behold her sister Robin was a working actress in LA who, it just so happened, was starting an acting class in the new year (2005).  She said I would love Robin because they had similar personalities and I always loved Jean-Ann!!!  Again, crazy how stuff works out. 

     To be quite frank I moved to LA because I wanted to be on TV.  I mean, I had already appeared in a national Always Panty Liners (no joke) commercial and played a - wait for it...junkie on "Law & Order: Criminal Intent."  But, I wanted to do a lot more of that.  I easily signed with an agent out here because, like I said, things were all falling into place and I started booking more national commercials.  Most of you already know the story but a few years later seemingly out of the blue I got a call to come meet Kat Von D ASAP to discuss the possibility of being the new shop manager on LA Ink.  Of course, that's exactly what I did and there it was - I was on TV regularly and it was tons of fun for a while.

     Now, it's a new year and I realize that I haven't set any new goals for myself lately.  Looking back it seems like most of the goals that I did set came true in one way or another.  The thing about making goals, writing them down, saying then out load, shouting them to the universe is that most often they do materialize!!  They usually don't happen in the manner or time frame in which you expect though which is why its important to keep expectations in check.  You absolutely can create the magic that you desire in your life and be the alchemist of your own destiny.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” 

― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist