08.21.04 1:12PM
I gave myself a year to figure it all out.

It. As in life. Not that you can figure out your life in a year, you can’t, and if you can then what kind of life are you choosing to lead, but I gave myself a year to figure out the next step. I needed a change and almost a year ago to this date, I wasn’t given an option. On the very same day I was to leave for a place I can’t really describe I was told I was leaving a place that I could.

The show I had poured my blood, sweat and tears into was going away. Getting cancelled. Over as in the opposite of under. I was offered a position on staff at the station, asked to stay on and work at the company. But I knew better. I knew this was my chance. My opportunity to escape. The one time nobody could look at me weird for getting out. Well, they could, but the one time I knew I wouldn’t care.

I decided to make my own decisions. Take My own chances.

I jumped. Well, not at first. I took another Producer position, even though it was in San Francisco. And when I lost that job after 3 weeks, that show too just went away, I stayed for what I thought was love. Not that it wasn’t, but it was a fucked up sort of love. And then I traveled. Tried to clear my head. Make decisions. Figure out where the fuck I wanted to live.

And write. That’s what I wanted to do. Write and sex educate. Perform. Make people more comfortable about sex. And slowly I did this. Real slowly. I performed a few times in New York, because even though I wanted San Francisco to be my home, I had a large part of my heart and my life in NYC.

So I went to Europe. Sounded like I was leading this glamorous life, when actually I guess I sort of was, only it was the low budget version. And in Prague, in one of the most beautiful and magnificent places I’ve visited, I missed living in New York.

I left with a headful of ideas. I decided to try for a job that I didn’t get. Which is a good thing, because the last time I didn’t get a job, I got a column out of it. And now, this time, they want me to create a class. Something that is mine, all mine. Does anyone know anything about copyrighting btw?

And a friend has written a big sex advice book and it comes out next month, and I am referenced enough times to get my own credit in the index. And I’m teaching a shitload of classes. And I have this amazing idea for a book that needed support and I’ve got the support - but not the publishing house yet. And I’ve got this idea for a video, and a play. And I’m sick and tired of having ideas. Because ideas are nothing if they aren’t made tangible.

I want to touch my ideas. To see them come alive. But first I must go back to the place it all began. I must end my year of living freedom at Burning Man, and start my thirtieth year on a different note. A more confident and sure of myself sort of note. Because this is my year of making things happen.

And they will. There’s a shitload of things I have to do when I get back.

September 10th…My Year of Making Things Happen begins.