I don't have much left on my "to do" list, which probably says something more about the length of the list than about my efficiency in checking items off. One thing that wasn't there but which I decided to add at the last minute was a massage.
For whatever reason, I just love massages - the poking, the prodding, the feeling that I'm a loaf of dough on the kneading board. With ample time and money, I would happily go every single day, perhaps with a break for Christmas and Easter. And - though I don't know for certain - I suspect that massages aren't provided in prison or, if they are, that I wouldn't appreciate the strings that come attached. So off I went for a massage - in LA, salons are on practically every corner - and now I'm back, an hour later, $25 poorer and much more relaxed. I'm so relaxed, in fact, that it's hard to even lift my fingers to type.
I suppose that it should come as no surprise to anyone that my muscles were perhaps a little tense. I am getting older, but I don't blame age for my recent aches and pains. No matter how you look at it, how fervently you try to convince yourself that it's just the start of another adventure, the weeks leading up to prison can be a stressful time, a time that makes your muscles ache and your shoulders throb.
I spent the past two days in the company of a producer from Snap Judgment, a nationally syndicated program aired on NPR. I told my story, with a few meanders and detours, pretty much from start to finish. All told, I blabbed for almost six hours, with short little breaks to wait for loud cars to pass and weed-eaters to stop eating weeds. Honestly, I didn't know I had so much to say (or that there was so much background noise in what I thought to be a very quiet house).
It will be interesting to see how they manage to pare those six hours down to ten minutes, but I have no doubt that they will do it well. If you haven't checked out the program, you should, and not just because I will soon be featured. They take a very interesting, unique approach to storytelling. I don't yet know when my story will be ready, but I'll try to post a notice on my blog when the big day comes.
Dredging up all the ancient history of my sordid past was not exactly fun. At times, I felt as if I were telling someone else's story. I wish it was someone else's story, to be honest, but unfortunately it was me doing all those awful, stupid things. I may have been a bit too forthcoming - it's easy to forget, sitting in a living room with one other person and talking into a microphone, that you're actually speaking to the entire country. But I'm intent on telling my story as honestly as I can, not to whitewash any of the details, because only through complete honesty will I ever be able to even begin to transcend what I did.
In any event, after all was said and done, after I'd bared my soul, after the producer had hopped in her car and drove off for the airport, after all of that, my shoulders hurt like hell. So off I went to get a massage.
I'm glad I did.
