I found out something important about myself this past week and it startled me. Really shook me up, in a good way. I thought I was getting too long of tooth, or grey of beard, for these types of revelations.

   I have always been a really intense person. So much so, that for most I'm an aquired taste. And you have to be able to stand me long enough to acquire it. My kind of passionate expression, good or bad, love or hate, is almost impossible to take, close in, for any length of time. Little gray area, lots of black, more white. That's one of the reasons blogging works so well as an outlet. You get me in 5 minute clips, dear reader, and that's pretty manageable. But if you had to, say, live with me....yikes. I don't know that I could, no less expect you to. I've always maintained that I am basically a really optimistic person, so while I might not expect you to "get me", I always hope you will. 

   The last few years I've gone 12 bruised and bloody rounds with frustration. Business, family and relationship problems, a great many of my own creation, or at least contribution, have seemed like the proverbial brick wall you sometimes find your head against while trying to run forward. No matter how fast I step, it's running in place. But this past week, March 10, 2006 to be exact, a veil of anger lifted, and I'm not sure how to deal with it, no less rant or rave about it. But I can say for absolute certain, I started moving forward, fast. The left-foot-right-foot-repeat started working. What a trip!

   I will break my vow (again) not to make this personal and share some insight because I think it will affect my future writing. And then I'll tuck it away and RANT again. Promise. 

   One of the reasons I so love what I do for an [almost] living, personal management, is it's exactly like being a parent, except to grown ups.  Not of my loins. Actors, writers, musicians, performers of all ilk, are childlike and wondrous. They have to be, or the creativity gets staunched. But my love of my career ties directly to my greatest love in real life, being a dad. I have three amazing, different, fantastic, talented, terrific kids. Life with each has been a struggle, but more than well worthwhile. As corny as it sounds, they really are everything I breathe for. My oldest daughter is a former actress turned respected TV editor, my middle child, also a daughter, is easily the most naturally talented photographer I've ever seen, and working towards her degree in it. And then there's my 4 year old son.

   I was in a relationship with, but not married to, his mom. (For lots of good reasons). The chances of her getting pregnant at her age, and with certain health issues, were very slim. But she did, and we tried to make a go of it for our [future] son's sake, but couldn't. In what had to be one of the strangest days of my life, we sat in Cedar's getting the great news that we were having a boy who was healthy, and watching him for the first time on a little ultrasound TV screen, on September 11, 2001. At the same time the TV screens in the waiting room and all over the hospital were showing the Trade Towers coming down. Omen? In retrospect, hell yes.
 
   Her and my relationship was doomed from the get-go, but foolishly I never thought my son would be raised any way other than our sharing the responsibility and joy. CO-parenting, like so many other families these days. With all the other shit, that was the optimist in me. She, however, didn't see it that way and through some pretty reprehensible maneuvering, tried her damndest to take him away. Not only from my oversight, but to the east coast. She and her lawyers presented a case for the last 3 1/2 years that almost had ME convinced it was the right thing, and I believe in me. (And while I found her methods indefensible, I'm sure she had herself convinced she was doing the right thing, which I'll never, ever fault her for). But after an actual trial, and a seven week wait while the judge contemplated her ruling, (and I seriously contemplated life without him), on March 10, just 11 days short of his fourth birthday, the ruling came down, mom's request to move away was denied and I was granted joint custody of my son. 

   My wonderful lawyer, who kept me sane throughout, called me into her office and as we read the ruling I felt all the anger and frustration and hate and fear and loss just leave my body like the devil during an excorcism. It was stunning. And during the last week, I've had overnights with him for the first time in his life and it's been easier, smoother, and far more gratifying than I'd imagined or fantasized it would be. We've had a blast, and I find myself so filled with love, not just for him, but all mankind, I'm ill-prepared to handle it!!! This should be the worst problem I ever encounter, huh?

   So now you know why the rants have stopped for a bit. Tonight, though, after I took him back to mom's following a full weekend together of talking, playing, eating, showering, shopping, sleeping, being together, and laughing like lunatics, (or, to be more precise, like four year olds), I picked up the newspapers and trades from the last week I'd ignored, and watched all the news and entertainment shows I'd tivoed. And guess what? I figured out that this newly acquired love of humanity made me more pissed off at what goes on around me/us. I rediscovered the rant inside me in a new, exciting way, and it'll be even more profound, because I really want him to know that bullshit is bullshit and should be railed against, in the entertainment world and the world at large. And now I get a chance to teach him that. So, I'm baaaaack....and better. Does the name Don Quixote spin a windmill for you? Buckle up........ 

Next up - Politics as entertainment - more rant than rave, more cry than laugh. What Nixon v Kennedy wrought...