Just as easily as I become enamored of productivity and health, I can become lazy and easily stray to a state of sloth and living life as a couch potato. I have all these plans and ideas and hopes for projects and body definition, but time slips away.
I remember a sign over the kitchen archway at Catahoula's that read: "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." It was something that reminded us to slow down and be aware of our surroundings because we were more inclined to have accidents and make avoidable mistakes when we were "in the weeds." I loved Catahoula's, learned a lot about myself while I was working there.
More than a year ago, my sponsor gave me an assignment that I've started and stopped and worked on at times, but never really put the effort into it as I really should have. She wanted me to use my skills of creativity and short story commission to write a story that employed the ideas that we discussed that day, something that would be a fictionalized version of actual events, my coming to believe and a path toward redemption.
And what's the cardinal rule for every writer when they're just starting out? Write what you know. It's always been my motto and a creed by which I've lived and worked.
I remember something that happened, something that I think of at times that makes me angry. It was something that happened just after graduation from Magnet High, when I was looking for a job for the summer. I went to an interview in the Eye Masters store located in Mall St. Vincent. I'd worked in the theatre there off and on for since my introduction to accountability and employment, but I'd heard that Eye Masters was probably hiring and I might have a good chance of securing a job there.
The interview was... strange from the start. After only a few minutes, I realized that I was not being interviewed based on any experience or any qualifications that had anything to do with work and professionalism. I felt like I was being interviewed as a candidate for a notch on the guy's bed post. I never said anything to anyone in general, never reported the incident, and ended up accepting a position with Sam Goody. It sat with me. I should have said something. I should have reported it. Maybe it would have prevented the same thing happening to some young guy out there trying to make a go of it in the world. However, I was silent. Life showed up. Other things became more important and more pressing. I eventually moved to Lafayette.
I came home for visits every so often. There was one night that I remember going out downtown with my sister-in-law and some friends that were acquainted with her and my brother. We barhopped a bit and ended up at an alternative lifestyles bar in the downtown Shreveport area. Atop a bar stool that night, perched up in all his obese glory was one of the gentlemen who had worked in the Eye Masters location. I was drunk. I was probably belligerant, and I only recall bits from the encounter. Somehow the conversation led to that interview. I don't think I initiated it, seems that he did. And I told him that I should have said something. I should have done something about what happened. I told him it was wrong.
I remember his response. He hadn't been any part of the interview, but I had met him that day. He told me that he had listened at the door while the interview was conducted and said that I sat down and stated, "My name is Miles and I'm gay." Uhh... Seriously?! It set me off. I flew off the handle and proceeded to call him on the lie, and was subsequently dragged from the bar by my sister-in-law and her friend. I still remember their words once we were outside. Despite the haze of the alcohol and anger, I can recall them as if it was only last night: "Miles, you need to do something about that." I never did.
I returned to Lafayette and eventually allowed the worst of my excesses to take over. It was only after coming home and driving a car with one headlight through the gates of hell that I began to encounter consequence. Rehab became imminent. The saga of that interview and its fall-out never really occurred to me. I accepted a position where I worked for years. I loved life. I got better, found a new lease on life, admitted powerlessness and unmanageability. Eventually, my life was opened up to living right and living in God's will. I went through the steps and became okay with the fact that I did a lot of things that were wrong and bad, but those were just actions. They weren't who I was.
I'm thinking about all this. I'm thinking about other things that have happened recently. The times that I should have stood up for myself and for what's right. Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. This calls for major soul searching and prayer. I will have to meditate to hear the appropriate course of action from God, but I know that if I just rest and try to forget about things that have happened, I'll have to add yet another moment when I could have done something for me, stood up for myself, and prevented another guy in his twenties from having to take the force of others' reckless disregard. I don't want anyone else to have to feel that they are not good enough, not worth it, and feel as if that's just a part of life they have to resign themselves to.
Despite my admission of powerless, I don't believe that turning things over to God eliminates one's free will. God gave us that will and wants us to use it, as long as we have the nature of his will on our sides.
Today, I talked to several people about the chain of events that has led me back to a place where I once again feel disheartened and powerless.
That doesn't mean that I can't still feel empowered.
Today I will take a stand.
Today I will stand for something.
I refuse to fall for anything.
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