I am beginning writing this post at 10:30PM on June 5, exactly one month to the minute after a pickup truck ran a red light and crashed into my driver's side door. I've had a full calendar page to dwell on the implications of this incident, but the crash wasn't the only event that left me shaken. This collision incited a month of change so massive that I can safely say my life is entirely different, and it should go without saying (but I'm saying it anyway), that I'm indescribably thankful that I am alive to write this post, that my fingers work to press the keys, that my ears can hear the clicks, that my eyes can see the screen, that my nose can smell the sticky air being blown into my room from outside by a box fan in the window, that I am alive. I am alive.
I am alive.
-
A CAR CRASH IN THREE ACTS
ACT ONE: I Switched My Robot Off
"I switched my robot off,
And I know more,
But retain less,
Retain less,
-tain less,
-tain less,
Less,
Less,
Less,
Less,
Less..."
- Gorillaz, "I Switched My Robot Off" Humanz (2017)
I love Gorillaz. That fictional four-piece is one of my favorite bands, and every single release of theirs has pushed me as an artist, a consumer, and a human being. Humanz is the first new studio album from Gorillaz in seven years, so naturally I purchased the deluxe version as soon as possible. But I wasn't just going to throw it in and listen to it on the drive home from the store. Oh no. When it comes to musicians and art that pushes me to grow, challenges my beliefs, and otherwise changes the way I think about the world, I sit down and give it my full attention. Granted, this album has also been referred to as "a dance club record for the end of the world" so I'm not expecting anything too deep - just plenty of beats and hooks to keep me dancing and singing while the political (and probably real) apocalypse begins.
I'm also in the middle of writing and recording a new Up n Adam EP; it's a fun little slice of Summer that I wanted to record and put out for free before planning a little mini-tour of sorts at different beaches in Michigan. A few of these songs require the sound of waves, preferably without people talking or yelling. In order to get these sounds, I figured I would drive to the beach at night (one of my favorite things to do, year-round) and record some waves. And, hey! I could listen to the new Gorillaz album if I went to a beach that was a solid hour away! (Gotta get the bonus tracks in too, of course.) It was going to be a perfect night, especially after the week I'd had.
At the time, I was working three jobs: Celebration! Cinema Woodland (where I'd been for three and a half years, ever since I moved up to Grand Rapids), ShadowShine Pictures (a production company started by a childhood friend), and Wealthy Street Bakery (my new job, mere blocks from my apartment). It had been a long week, but by some miracle, I had Friday night off. May 5. Cinco de Mayo.
I remember talking with Brittany (my roommate and one of the best friends I've ever had, in case you don't know for some reason?) before I left about whether or not it was safe to make the drive.
A: "I mean, it's Cinco de Mayo. People have been drinking all day. Should I be worried?"
B: "Nah, it's not like you're driving on Halloween or St. Patrick's Day or something."
A: "Yeah, I'll be fine once I get on the highway."
Even still, I remember opening my car door and looking back at my apartment thinking, "I've had a long week...maybe I should just have a night in?" But I looked at the moon and smiled, and then I got in the car and shut the door.
The new Gorillaz album was on my front seat. My clothes were comfortable, just a little too warm to fight the chill of being by the water. I put the CD in (Finally! After long last!) and drove away.
Honestly, it's funny recounting all of this because I had it all figured out. I knew who I was, I knew what I wanted to do with my Summer, I knew what I wanted to do with the next year and a half of my life. I had it figured out. And as I drove down Wealthy Street, through the roundabouts and across Division, I have no shame in admitting that I let out an excited yell. The new Gorillaz album was playing! I was going to the beach at night! I had film projects and music projects and writing projects lined up!
(What's that old joke? "How do you make God laugh? You make a plan.")
As track two ("Ascension") was ramping up, I was about to cross the US-131 overpass on my way to Market Street. I turned up the volume. I was beaming. The bass was throbbing and the lyrics were already being sponged into my brain so I could sing along as soon as possible. "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" I approached the double-stoplight and saw a pickup truck slowing down; he had a red light, so why wouldn't he stop? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" He still wasn't stopping, but he was slowing down so...why wouldn't he stop? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" I'm about to go through the light and he's slowing down, but he isn't stopping. Why isn't he stopping? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop th--"
And then he hit me. My driver's side door smashed in, and I slammed my head against the window before it shattered. Then I felt a second impact behind me. I looked at the man driving the truck, and he vacantly stared back with glassy eyes as if he didn't realize I was another person. (I am almost entirely sure he was drunk. He looked at me, directly at me, and didn't see me. Our eyes met, but I could tell he couldn't see me.) He pulled the truck away, next to a city bus that I soon realized was the second impact I felt behind me.
And then I sat there, staring for a few seconds. I turned the music down, off. (Yes, that was the first thing I did.) I stared longer. Then I grabbed my phone and called 911. I got out of the car through the passenger side door, and these two girls who had seen the entire crash were parked in front of me. They got out and told me they had also called 911, and then they asked if I was okay. I just sort of went back and forth from staring at my car to touching my body everywhere that it hurt (which, to my utter shock, weren't many places at all). My head wasn't bleeding. I had all of my limbs and extremities. I was standing. "I think I'm okay. Do I look okay? Am I bleeding?" "Your nose is bleeding." I checked under the nostrils. "No, like, on your nose."
There was a small cut on my nose, a small cut on the back of my left hand (which is now a pink scar made of fresh flesh), and broken glass in my hair where my head hit, but no blood on my head. It was just a bruise. My driver's side door was all but detached from my vehicle, I had been hit by a pickup truck and rear-ended by a city bus, I was covered in shattered glass, and yet...I was alive. How the hell was I alive?
For the sake of length, I'll move a little faster.
The police and ambulance showed up, everyone gave their statements and went their separate ways, and oh yeah, the guy in the truck? He got out of the truck, ditched it, and left the scene. He just walked into downtown. Part of me thinks he was just blackout drunk and didn't realize what had happened, but part of me thinks he was convinced he killed me. Either way, he was gone.
Brittany was picking up Phillip (my other roommate, her boyfriend, and a really REALLY great dude) from work, but they were on their way back to pick me up. I called my mom from the back of a cop car (which is obviously going to be on my "two truths and a lie" roster from now on) and recounted everything to her, which is the last thing a mother wants to hear from her son at like 11:30PM or whenever, but I have the strongest (and best, honestly) mother on the planet. I don't know what I would do without her.
Brittany and Philip showed up, and I loaded up Brittany's car with the 50-60 CDs that were in my backseat, let the tow truck take my car away, and we were on our way back home.
As soon as I was sure I was okay (a question I asked Brittany and Phillip more times than normal, but they were more than happy to reassure me that it was just shock messing with me, making me feel like I had somehow not noticed I had an arm off or something), I went into my room and texted a few of the people closest to me. I told a lot of people I loved them that night, and it wasn't nearly enough. I wanted to tell every single person I had ever had any brief contact with that I loved them dearly.
Since the incident, I've been more aware of existence than ever before. Not just my own existence, but the existence of others. Every single person on this planet, from my family to my friends to the guy who hit me with his truck to people I'll never have an opportunity to meet during my short time here, all of those people exist. They breathe, they eat, they laugh, they cry. Every single person.
I've also gained a renewed belief in, for lack of better words, destiny and fate. For the past few years, I've shed much of what I believed about human beings having the inability to change certain things in their lives. I used to believe that much of life was "predestined" by God to fall into place; we had the ability to make choices, sure, but things were pretty much set. However, as time passed, I came to believe very much in free will, more than ever before. Don't get me wrong, of course I believe that meaning can be found in every event, good or bad (one need only look with an open heart - there are patterns in static). I also believe that we have a limited number of paths we can take in our lives, with an overwhelming amount of choices that lead us down these paths, but we make those choices. For instance, I chose to go to the beach at night and the man who hit me chose to drink until he could no longer operate a vehicle. But here's where the change comes in: all human logic points to the fact that I should have died a month ago. It doesn't make any sense that I would live after something like this, and since there was no "free will choice" in the moment that would have resulted in my avoiding being hit, there must be a reason outside of myself that I am still alive. Not that I was flailing about feeling purposeless or that I thought I was a god in complete control of my entire existence (if you know me at all, you're probably laughing at that). On the contrary, I just wrote a long thing about how I thought I had everything figured out and had plenty of purpose. And I've never considered myself a god (that never ends well for anyone, and frankly it's too much responsibility - no thank you), but rather I've always very much believed in a Higher Power, One who knows and loves all of us, and because of that, also gave us free will to make all of these choices and go down all of these paths. No, the thing I had forgotten, the thing I'll never forget again, was that I am unavoidably, through and through, whether I want it or not, entirely human. I am temporary. I will die one day, and that day was almost May 5, 2017.
I had gotten too comfortable in making my life turn into what I wanted from life that I was missing the experience of life. I was putting off decisions and desires because I was convinced I had time for all of them. Sure, I love listening to music and watching movies and creating things. Sure, I feel things deeply. That didn't change. But the days following the crash, I was noticing things I couldn't believe I had let slip by me. I became thrilled by moments that could easily be seen as mundane: the sound of a car passing, the way hot and cold feels, the way a door pumps when it is locked. And moreso than moments, I'm brimming with energy from, for, and about people; smiles are especially beautiful and contagious, the way bodies move when we walk, what others must be feeling when they touch a counter or lift a mug, the way bodies react to nervousness or excitement, the way necks turn into shoulders, the way coughs and sneezes and gasps and laughter echo in rib cages, the way eye contact feels like one glass pouring into another and vice versa. I am full of new energy. I am full of new life.
I am so grateful to be alive.
Before I showered the shards of glass out of my hair, I called my mom again, who pointed something out:
"Wasn't it May when your car blew up? Five years ago? And you were going to the same beach?"
Yep. Five years ago, almost to the very week, my car spontaneously caught fire and exploded on the way to South Haven at 10:30PM. You've heard the story, I'm sure. (And if you haven't, I'll be happy to tell it again.) We laughed about it, and it felt good to laugh.
Needless to say, I won't be leaving the house for the entirety of May 2022.
-
ACT TWO: Fade Out, Roll Credits, Cue Lights
(These next two acts will be significantly shorter in length and lighter in subject matter. But they must be written, as they too are massive changes worth noting.)
I worked for Celebration! Cinema for six and a half years.
In my time there, I saw roughly 300 movies for free (the employee ID tracks them, but before we got the ID, I had a few months of going when it was recorded on paper), I got thousands of dollars worth of popcorn, candy, and soda for hundreds of dollars, and I ate over one thousand soft pretzels. I know. That's too many pretzels. Good lord. How am I still skinny? I have no idea.
I also met countless people on various tracks in life, either getting a job because their parents bugged them to do so, or just trying to scrape by and pay bills any way they could. I was in the latter camp, but there was something bigger afoot: I got to be around movies ALL THE TIME and get paid for it. For years, it was the dream! I lived and breathed cinema. I mean, I still do, but working at a theater was the rich soil needed for my greedy little movie-loving roots to spread and grip and grow. I could see scenes out of context, I could memorize and critique dialogue, I could see movies I loved five times in a week if I wanted to! It was great. My time working at movie theaters (I also worked at one in Sturgis during high school for like three years too) has shaped who I am as a person in a big way, and I'll never forget it, but not only because of the atmosphere; it was also the people.
Now, I've already written a big ol' post for the people at Woodland, so I won't type all of that out again here, but rather the point of including this is to accent the gravity of my departure. My last day at Celebration! Cinema was May 21, 2017. My first day was September 10, 2010. You don't just invest almost seven years of your life somewhere and not feel it when you leave.
This change was a long time coming. This change was something I had wanted for years, and yet never felt like it was the right time. See, there's only so long someone can work late-night hours and stressful shifts for entirely too little pay in comparison to the workload. But at the same time, there was a culture and family at these places that meant more to me than a paycheck. And that's why I stayed as long as I did. And that's what I'll miss the most.
I had a last hurrah with some coworkers after my final shift. I'd spent years wondering what my going-away party would look like, and I was not disappointed. But it was different than I could have ever guessed, and I was so happy. This change, this was one that felt like a step forward. I was ready to move on, and people were cheering me as I left the nest. Sure, my departure was expedited because of my lack of vehicle, but it couldn't have been a more right time.
If this were a movie, this would be right as everything seems to be getting better for our protagonist. He's grown from pain. He's learned to be more honest and take risks. Things are looking up for this fella. You know, right before something unexpected and devastating happens out of nowhere.
Guess what's about to happen out of nowhere? Yep. Something unexpected and devastating.
-
ACT THREE: Suddenly, Everything Has Changed
"Putting all the vegetables away,
That you bought at the grocery store today,
And it goes fast, you think of the past...
...suddenly, everything has changed."
- The Postal Service, "Suddenly Everything Has Changed (The Flaming Lips cover)"
Some changes happen when you least expect them, faster than you could keep your eyes on, and harder hitting than you could ever prepare for; sometimes they happen before you even notice them.
I quit working for ShadowShine Pictures on May 30, 2017.
This was a decision that was not made flippantly, and yet it happened so quickly I could hardly believe it myself. I'm still having a hard time believing it. But I'm not having a hard time questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do.
I won't divulge details due to the sensitive nature of, well, all of it.
Suffice it to say, this was something that needed to happen. From this end, new beginnings will spark to life. Healthy beginnings. Honest beginnings. This will take time, and even though much of this post has an air of "life is short! TIME IS TICKING GO GO GO" there is something to be said for letting time take its time.
There you have it: the third and final act in the car crash that was May 2017. And just like that, suddenly, everything has changed.
"Putting all the clothes you washed away,
As you're folding up the shirts, you hesitate,
Then it goes fast, think of the past...
...suddenly, everything has changed."
-
EPILOGUE: Strange Interpretation
So here we are: no more car, only one job, and a re-found sense of destiny and a renewed appreciation for breathing. It's been a hard month, one of the hardest I've ever faced. Though this time, it wasn't because of school or relationships or anxiety; it was change.
One month ago, I had three jobs, a car, and plans enough to sink a calendar ship. (I've just received word: calendar ships don't exist.)
Now, I have one job, no car, and dreams.
Dreams are different than plans, I think. Plans are concrete and controlled. Plans are rigid and stiff. Plans can change, but not without bent plastic and splintered wood (you can even hear it crack; listen, next time!). But dreams...well, dreams are plans you don't force into a box. When people say "follow your dreams," they're usually whimsically coating something like "create a future you want, one that has value and worth in society" and in this particular society, this country, this world as a whole, that also means "make money, get married, and be successful...even if it means you step on other people to get there." And I'm not about that. Money, possessions, perceived success - it all amounts to nothing in the end. I think "follow your dreams" is a little more fluid and a lot more optimistic than that. You still need plans to get to your dreams, but don't let your plans keep you from your dreams. For instance, I'm still planning on that beach tour. I'm planning on releasing my EP. I have plans to get these plans completed in the timeframe in which I want them completed. But these plans are means to the dreamy ends.
Don't set up so many hoops for yourself to jump through that you forget what's on the other side of the hoops. These changes that I made, some more voluntary than others, were the removal of the hoops. And now, instead of hoops, I'm choosing to lay stepping stones. Plans, still, but plans that are the next step, only, instead of an obstacle. I have ideas for books, screenplays, albums, you name it; taking the time to create these things are no longer hoops or obstacles, they're the journey to get to the dream. In fact, in many ways, the journey of creating is the dream.
It all may seem like the same thing, but it's not the same thing at all.
I may seem like the same person, but I'm not the same person at all.
-
I'll let this curtain close with lyrics from my favorite band, who recently released their final EP from beyond the grave (I can't believe they've been broken up this long already) at the most perfect time they could have chosen to release it.
Thank you all for reading this. I love you. Truly.
-
"You can open every doorway,
And never leave the room,
You can curate every fantasy,
And never see what's true.
But you already know that,
There's nothing left to prove.
So take its worth and weigh it,
It all amounts to nothing in the end.
There's a picture of a picture,
On every single screen,
On purpose, accidentally,
On the wall of the museum,
But you don't need me to tell you
That it doesn't mean a thing,
So take its worth an weigh it,
It all amounts to nothing in the end.
It's a strange interpretation,
All colorful and bright,
A forced perspective portrait
Of manipulated light.
But you already heard that,
It's all a waste of time.
Yeah, you already know that,
It's heavy on your mind.
No, I don't need to tell you
What's weighing on the line,
Because you already know that.
Now the only thing worth being
Is impossible to be,
Yeah, the only dream worth dreaming now
Is a new reality.
And I hate to disappoint you,
But I wouldn't count on me.
So take it all and make it
Into something worth it in the end."
- the Soil & the Sun, "Strange Interpretation" from Actual Replica Vol. II (2017)
--
lovelovelove,
Adam
