Acting

You'll have to excuse this and other occasional navel-gazing moments...

In the past few years, I've spent a lot of time reassessing my life, from soup to nuts. I've thought back on relationships and jobs, music and travels, decisions and living-by-chance, childhood and what it means to be an adult. One of the things that I've spent a lot of time thinking about was the way I "acted" through life. That is to say, I figured out what part to play, and I played it. It's a really lousy habit.

Tighten up to the last year and the introspection becomes more intense. After the final marital meltdown a year ago, a lot of patterns became clear. All the thinking and talking I'd done about family history clarified as well. In the end, it became clear that I couldn't "act" any longer; doing so was too dangerous for me—and for Anna, since I officially have sole responsibility for her. The shooting was, in a sense, the final step in the process.

When a bullet comes within less than an inch of killing you, everything changes.