I’m Coming Home

The past week has been a strange merging of events. To start, last Sunday, Kobe Bryant, his 13-year-old daughter Gianna and seven others died in a helicopter crash. I’ve said what I wanted to say on that, so I won’t go down that rabbit hole again. 

However, as a lover of well-told stories, three of my favorite shows ended as well. The series finale of Arrow happened Monday, the series finale of The Good Place was on Thursday, and the series finale of BoJack Horseman was released on Friday. I watched them all in a 36-hour window. Compact the crying.

So this week was centered around one theme for me: loss. And it’s what catalyzed me to make the decision to move back to Louisville the day before I was going to start a job in Boise. 

Ultimately, I miscalculated what I was trying to do and how it would make me feel. I don’t have any shame about coming back to Louisville, and I won’t need a confidence boost. If anything, I feel more confident. I learned a lot about myself and now, should I try again down the road, I’ll know what to avoid and embrace.

I made mistakes in two regards. I shouldn’t have tried to move without a job or in my current vehicle. I underestimated the island I was putting myself on, knowing no one and having no job or other outlets to meet people. And my vehicle was too small to allow me space when I needed it. It wasn’t a failure, it was a learning experience.

I want to use this learning experience and better myself from it. Kobe’s passing reminded me of how short our time on this earth is. And those three shows ending reminded me of the importance of the connections we make in this life. I want to spend this time being a better friend, son, and sibling. I want to regain the focus I once had on bettering myself and being content with where I am. If there’s one major takeaway, it’s that where I live provides little to no impact on my happiness. 

I learned a lot about myself, honestly. I learned where my breaking points are and how much I am capable of. I matured and calmed myself a lot because immaturity and wild swings of emotion are quick ways to abandon things that get hard. And there is a difference between running from something and recognizing when a situation isn’t right. This situation wasn’t right, somewhat by my own doing, but also somewhat by things outside my control.

I think there are people more than capable of moving to a new place on their own and starting a new life. I’m not sure that I am one of those people, though.

So where do I go from here? I’ll get a job (or two), pay off my debt as quickly as possible, and go from there. I don’t think I’ll try to live in Boise again. I liked it, but I didn’t love it. There were things that it lacked that I really missed once I spent an extended period of time there. I want to be near water. I want to be around a diverse group of people. And I want to be around a group of people who are free thinkers, who question the status quo and challenge their own beliefs. Boise had none of those things by my evaluation. 

I spent years focused on figuring out where I wanted to live. Now, I just want to live. 

Good Damage

This past Friday, the final episodes of BoJack Horseman were released onto Netflix. It’s a cartoon about talking animals and their lives in a fictional Hollywood/Hollywoo/Hollywoob, California. It’s also one of the most intensely perfect shows ever written, with a unique ability to tackle heavy subjects like depression, anxiety, addiction, sociopolitical issues, and death.

I was resistant to BoJack when it first started airing. A cartoon about a talking horse? Even if it was never intended as a kid’s cartoon, it felt like something that I just wouldn’t “get”. When the fourth season came out, a friend of mine on Twitter was live-tweeting the show. And he was expressing how serious the show was and how hard it was hitting him. And, because I am the way that I am, I wanted to check it out and did.

I was instantly hooked. The characters are deep, complex and the writing is rich. It’s one of the most well-written shows I’ve ever seen, striking the perfect balance between hilarious and heartbreaking. I literally found myself laughing through tears at points.

For six seasons, BoJack has told the story of its main characters, mostly animals, and their struggle through life. There are a handful of main characters, all with their own positives, negatives, and pitfalls. And while the show is one of a kind, there are some patterns and tropes that exist as well.

Each season, for the first four seasons, was mostly fun and light. Then, they would drop a hammer on you in episode eleven and have a fallout in the twelfth episode. That was the way the story was told. But in season four, the eleventh episode, Time’s Arrow, depicts BoJack’s mother’s dementia. It is a tragic image of the possibility of how life could be experienced by a person with the disease. It also could have been the signal for a shift in the show.

Season five starts off similar to the last but starting with episode five, it’s gut-punch after groin shot, every episode landing its blow (or sometimes several). And from that point on, it never really lets up. Maybe my memory is fuzzy, but I don’t recall a truly lighthearted episode from that point on from start to finish, including season six.

And that’s the thing about BoJack: even if you’ve never experienced the heavy things that they explore, you somehow can’t stand and also feel empathy for almost every character, sometimes at the same time. It’s part of why the writing is so brilliant. They can take characters who do absolutely despicable things, like encouraging a sober addict to go on one last bender and make you feel sorry for them.

However, it’s not just the writing that makes me love this show. It’s also helped me confront a lot of my own traumas and, honestly, learn how NOT to handle them. The stories are so wrought with mistakes and there are so many times where you can see a character headed back down a path that you know will end poorly. And holding that mirror up and asking yourself “Right, so is that the path you’re going to go down too?” is an honest moment with myself that I needed.

As I sit here, having just finished the season, I think back to those moments. The moments where I related to the alcoholic horse. Or the moments where I related to his depressed best friend, Diane. Other characters had their moments too, but those two, I waffled between relating to the most. I’m ultimately more similar to Diane: a stubborn, self-righteous writer who can’t get out of their own way and struggles mightily with self-confidence. But I also relate to BoJack’s struggle with self-control, his false bravado and his knack for making things worse when they start to go a little bit bad. At least, that’s what my mind does.

It’s really that relationship that drives the show, BoJack, and Diane. They recognize the brokenness in each other and, rather than try to fix it, or even make it better, they accept it. They push each other away; they comfort when they know the other is the only one who won’t judge. Diane is even the one who eventually takes BoJack to rehab, at his request.

BoJack and Diane have, in my eyes, a perfect relationship. Maybe not perfect, actually, but symbiotic. While they are never romantic, there are moments of tension. But it’s because they call each other on their shit, that they are in unison. A perfect example is the ending to episode 11, season 1. BoJack goes to a Q&A for Diane’s biography that she wrote about him. There is an extended dialogue, but this is the main part. BoJack asks:

Season 1

And, because the writers are better than I will ever be, she does not oblige. She stammers and finally rests in silence, knowing it would be a lie for her to say it. And there’s a beauty to being so close with someone, that you can’t lie to them, even when it’s the only thing they’re asking you to do.

There are a series of other quotes through the show that ties every season to the others. These canaries in the coalmine light the way for the audience to connect these threads over the course of six years. For Diane, it’s about processing the trauma she has experienced in her life.

Season 3

And from season 6:

“If I don’t write my book of essays now, I never will. I have to! If I don’t, that means all the damage I got isn’t good damage, it’s just damage.”

Similarly, BoJack is focused on his own trauma as well, but he is manifested in a different way: in feelings of loneliness and wanting to feel “good”.

Season 1

And from season 6:

“No matter how many (fresh) starts I get, there’s always the same ending. Everything falls apart and I end up alone.”

I share these quotes not to scare anyone unfamiliar with the series off. In actuality, I believe those to perfectly depict the brilliant storytelling of the show. While each of those quotes is separated by many episodes, the characters change so dramatically over those time frames, while still struggling with their inner demons.

I also appreciate the yin and yang nature of BoJack and Diane’s relationship. Diane is someone who has, largely, always been alone and is comfortable in that feeling. But she craves real connection. BoJack, on the other hand, is surrounded by people and is totally uncomfortable with being alone. In a way, Diane is trying to figure out how to be happy with someone else, while BoJack is trying to figure out how to be happy alone.

Having now finished the series, but without spoiling anything, I now know that they are twin flames. I’m not sure if that’s what the writers intended, but it’s how I interpreted it. Twin flames are two people who, when they meet, their lives change. They can be, and often are, people you fall in love with, but they are a catalyst to change in your life.

BoJack and Diane fundamentally change each other through the course of the show, and by the end, it can be debated how much each truly changed. But they definitely had an effect on each other. And just like real-life twin flames, they enter and exit each other’s story at various stages, dispensing the much-needed honesty when those around them refuse to give it. Sometimes, they are very necessary to the other’s story, and sometimes they don’t talk for months. But they find their way back to each other inevitably.

I end on one final quote, one that I believe sums up BoJack and Diane perfectly. Ironic as it is, the line is from season one. They’re sitting on a rooftop, as they do, and Diane says:

Season 1

I believe that this show gave us, maybe not what we wanted, but what we needed.

Is this happy?

I apologize upfront if this is a bit scattered. You’ll understand why.

~   ~   ~

I got a job this week. It’s with the company I was with for ten years prior to this, and I don’t want it. Nothing sounds less appealing than starting this job, but I’ve forced my hand by doing everything that I’ve done for the past few months. We’ll swing back around.

Kobe Bryant died yesterday. He was 41. He died in a helicopter crash along with his 13-year-old daughter, two of her teammates on their basketball team, and some parents, along with the pilot. Nine in total.

I’ve loved basketball ever since I can remember. I remember going to see the Globetrotters when I was a kid. I remember playing for the “B” and “C” teams in grade school because I wasn’t good enough to make the “A” team. Or maybe I didn’t fit into the familial political climate in my Catholic grade school. Probably a bit of both.

I remember trying out for my high school game, and instantly realizing how out of my depth I was. Rather than not play, I played for my grade school’s intramural team. Basically, if you weren’t good enough to play in high school, the grade schools would throw together a group of their alumni.

I remember playing those intramural teams, getting tackled in one by a football player, and crying myself home because they beat us so bad and never let off the gas. And I remember getting home, staring my tear-stained self in the mirror and promising not to let anything get to me like that again. I didn’t cry again for probably ten years.

Never once in my almost 30 years, though, would I have called myself a Kobe fan. I admired the mental aspects of his game, but I always had other players and teams that I liked.

That made yesterday really…interesting for me. The whole story has left me in a dark space mentally, for myriad reasons. Namely, the empath in me cannot stop imagining those last moments for everyone on board. Parents with children, knowing they won’t grow old. Children with parents, knowing they can’t protect them this time.

But also, Kobe felt transcendent and somehow accessible at the same time. He was on that pantheon of people who you’re dumbfounded by their passing. But was supposed to be in the “when he goes” category. He was supposed to be in the category with Michael Jordan, Tom Brady, Elton John and other greats of their craft. He wasn’t supposed to be in the category with Michael Jackson, Prince, and John Lennon. Not yet.

Kobe was far from perfect. Many of the things that he’s done are part of the reasons he never was my favorite player. Though he never admitted guilt, it’s fairly widely accepted that he was a rapist. That’s something that I never could forgive or forget with him. He once called a referee a gay slur, which I also never forgot. And I’m not here to litigate those offenses. They are terrible and I don’t blame anyone for allowing those to be the only things of import from his life.

~   ~   ~

Because I could barely think straight yesterday, I spent a lot of time thinking. Thinking about how everyone on that helicopter thought they had time. They all thought they had more. Maybe some thought they had a little. Maybe they felt like they had a lot. Maybe those teenage girls weren’t even aware of time, blinded by adolescence. But they certainly didn’t think yesterday was it.

Thinking a lot about, not just how I’ve lived life up to this point, but also where I’m going.  And I’m realizing, though it’s been a long time in the works, that I’ve consistently put myself in positions to do something great, only to either give up or fumble the moment. And I think about these moments in terms of happiness.

One podcast that I’ve circled back to numerous times is “WTF with Marc Maron”. He consistently frames things in a way that, at a minimum, makes me think. And one thing he said that stuck with me, years ago, is “I’m not a man who knows when he’s enjoying something.” More recently, he said something else that stood out. “Joy and happiness are not something I ever looked for, more relief. Looking for…how I don’t feel insane, or anxious, or full of dread or worried.”

That’s been my life for a decade at least, probably more when I look back on it. And it comes from this place of disappointment. I never fit into the construct of what society expects from its participants, in almost any way. It’s made it hard to connect with people and find groups that I fit into without feeling self-conscious about something.

I’m very familiar with fleeting moments of happiness. A joke, a funny video, whatever. I’m also pretty familiar with slightly longer stretches of happiness. A good day. A few days of something unexpected. But those haven’t happened in a couple months. But still, more frequent than the final stage of happiness: sustained.

I don’t know sustained happiness because I can’t remember the last time I felt it. That’s a slight exaggeration, I know when. It was college. But it’s been almost ten years. So while I remember WHEN I felt it, I don’t really remember what it feels like. To feel completely unburdened by my own thoughts and just experience life as its happening for an extended period of time. That, to me, is happiness.

I don’t want this job. But I also know that I can’t do anything much longer without one. I don’t even know what I really want. These were things I was supposed to have figured out months and, for some, years ago.

But I know this. The fatal helicopter crash that took nine people entirely too soon has at least snapped me out of my malaise. I wasn’t being honest with myself about what’s happening and working to find solutions. I was hiding aspect about it when writing or talking to people because I didn’t want to be seen as a failure, or even to think about failure from my own perspective.

I may take this job. I don’t want it, and I will hate it. But I may have to take this job. At least until I figure out my next move. I’m not done.


Photo by Nick Jio on Unsplash


Quick Update

So a quick update, I’m leaving Boise. At least temporarily.

As previously noted, the job search has been more of a dead-end here than I thought. And while I’ve tried to be patient, it’s wearing thin. Meanwhile, I’ve got a phone interview with a company in Arizona on Tuesday and traction on some other applications that I’ve put into cities other than Boise.

I’ll continue to put in applications in various cities, but the waiting around without anything to do has worn me down. So what am I going to do instead?

First, I’m going to Lake Tahoe again. I loved it there, and if there’s a potential that I’ll be thousands of miles away again, I’d like to see it again. After that, I’ll probably go to Yosemite because I didn’t make it there on my trip before, and then maybe to the coast again. Not totally sure. But I’ll round out going to the Hoover Dam since I passed that up last time too. And I’ll end by rolling through Sedona again, and most likely finish in Tucson. That’s where my interview is anyway.

If I’m going to end up back home anyway, I might as well see and do some stuff and be warm. Till then…