Response to a friend

I'm a little out of sorts today. I've been struggling with some personal things, ways to be a better person, ways to be more positive, ways to feel less like a victim of my insanity, and more like the product of the unique talent I've come to realize is a large part of who I am. I am also struggling with certain financial quandaries. Recently, someone who posts messages at the web site emailed me and suggested, among other things, that I lighten up on myself, which is an excellent idea, except that if I lighten up anymore then I already have, there won't be any forward motion at all. I'm told that I should ask for help, but I don't feel terribly comfortable asking for anything while I sort through this insanity business, especially from family and friends, except for their patience. Evan, for example, is running very short on patience. The fact is: I already have a whole team of people helping me. You see, by now I should be a successful graphic designer. Instead, I'm distracted by — I might even say haunted by — an overactive imagination that sort of short circuits everything I do. The "talent" I mentioned above really amounts to constantly stumbling upon what I can only call coincidences. I'm told not to be too hard on myself, and I don't really think that I am. I feel that I am rightly disappointed that I am not operating at a higher level. Perhaps I should say lower level, considering that my insanity could very well be a gift. I can't really blame anyone for the way I feel. My actions are my own responsibility. I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR THE THINGS I DO.

As for Steve Martin, the truth is that none of us really knows who he is. It would be foolish of us to be drawn to his "sensitive nature" based on the movies he's starred in. In reality, he's probably just as confused and lost as we all are, though he seems to be doing pretty well with it. The message board serves as a place of enormous hope, and endless banter. We hope that Steve will acknowledge reading something we have written, thereby connecting us to him in some actual, if tenuous manner. The banter goes on and on ever farther away from the topic that starts it off. It's fun. It tests our wits. It makes us happy. But it does not make us in any real sense part of Steve Martin, or Steve Martin any more a part of us.

When I was crazy, I would sit down in front of the message board and read things into the messages as if they were placed there just for me. I thought someone was trying to communicate with me. I thought that I was someone special. Of course, I am special, but not in the way I imagined. I attached all of these magical happenings to poor Steve Martin. I thought he was the force behind my experience. I like him just as much today as I did then, but I know now that he is Steve Martin, the actor/author/comedian/art collector/aging man (sorry, Steve, but I gotta call'em as I see'em.)

The mind is a cruel judge, especially when the mind is disorganized and longing to live in a fantasy instead of embracing the beautiful reality that is life. I think I have a lot of work to do before I'll really be at peace with what I have somehow become. I'm sure I could hone my skills at giving and receiving love. There's always work to be done. It sounds strange, but throughout this whole experience, I have never felt more loved in my whole life. I know in my very heart that I'm not alone. I feel like I've become a part of something far bigger than life itself. Maybe that's just the insanity talking, maybe it's the truth, who knows? It's just how I feel.