A Handbrake Slide Into Bali

Laptops, meetings, cell phones, alarms, Facebook, email, texting, tweeting, deadlines, new scripts, freelance, headhunters, driving, four square, shopping, groceries, laundry, gym, yoga, haircuts, social calendar, flights, visas, currency conversions, post, blogs, therapist appointments, parties, events, openings, must-sees, must-dos, must-haves.

These are just some of the orchestra players that make up the cacophony of noise that is everyday life. And I feel like the conductor that is barely able to keep up with the tune that seems to play a quarter beat faster than I can conduct.

Most of my life I’ve felt like I’m a week behind it and that there’s always eight thing that needs to be done and another twenty-three that I’ve forgotten.

And I seem to spend most of my time thinking about and/or complaining about this problem to anyone in my vicinity.

Bali is amazing place to be to turn the volume of all of this down. In the days after arriving, it’s like the locomotive that you ride for most of your life has the brakes slammed on and all the things that seem as though they are very important fall off and crash on the side of the tracks. Huge containers of alleged responsibilities break open and scatter.

I look back at them and where I think I should see rocks falling out of the smashing vessels, instead they are made of the stuff that just gets carries away on the breeze. I don’t know why seemed so important all of a sudden.

And when I look up, I’m in Bali, sitting on a couch on a balcony overlooking the sea with the mountains steaming off the morning dew to the other side. Birds jump and play in the tree in front and flit across the rooftops of the villas in a game of chase, chirping gossip to everyone around.

After a day of checking into a terrible place, jumping a taxi and cruising round for half a day to shop for a new hotel and landing in the nicest place I think I’ve ever stayed, I put my head on the pillow at 6pm and woke up at 8 the next morning.

It’s the like the reset button was pressed and now I’m living a different life for a week.

The best part of being in this state is seeing what right in front of you. As I drop the book I’m reading, I see Paul watching a film in his iPad lying by me, top to tail, engrossed in Chinese monks and warriors jumping from rooftop to bamboo tree.

Suddenly with all the noise turned down and all the rest of everything left far behind, you see very clearly the person who sits by you while all that stuff is normally turned up on high.

And you remember all the reasons why you fell in love with someone in the first place.

Despite all my misgivings about returning to LA, with Paul right here with me, everything seems doable and possible. Recharge the batteries in the sun, eat well, swim in the ocean and sleep a lot.

There’s plenty of time before we return to the laptops, meetings, cell phones, alarms, Facebook, email, texting, tweeting, deadlines, new scripts, freelance, headhunters, driving….

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About Some Gay Guy

I'm getting divorced. So... yeah.
This entry was posted in Advertising, Belonging Somewhere, LA Customs, Lawyers, Agents, Managers, Making It In LA, Scripts, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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