Checking in to the Funny Farm

Ok, admit it, how many of you have at a time or two thought you were losing your mind? How many have wanted to be Christian Slater in Pump Up the Volume, stirring things up, or felt an affinity with Dudley Moore’s character in Crazy People, or Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? ….

I will admit to all of the above, as well as very VIVID daydreams that all end in securing my place in one of the scenarios mentioned above where I could hide out, write, create, and set up a social experiment.

I would produce my own underground cable show (even wrote a few scripts for the show) commenting about the underpinnings of our society interviewing Dick Greggory and George Carlin types and my brethren in the hospital and others on the fringes of society who believe that they stay true to themselves and make unbiased opinions about the state of our mental and social evolution and profoundly deconstruct the world in which we live.

To lighten it up, I could work on the novel in my head a la “Confederacy of Dunces” that would create a new generation between the Boomers and X ers … call it Gen WTF (since no one I know relates or feels that they belong to either ‘marketing created group’) and comment on the state of affairs around the world through a different lens.

I could also write the book that tries to reach me each time my pen hits the page a la “The Devil Wears Prada” about my time in Hollywood working on the set and behind the scenes for some interesting characters. (Did I mention the one actor who asked us to add ‘rotating his silk boxers’ to our daily to do list?)

Or most importantly to me, finally tackle the story of my adoption, reunion with my birth family and the reunification and integration process that tries to bridge the gap between my two families and the two people who exist inside of me.

But then I think, “Man, would I ever get out of the funny farm?” When the time came, would I WANT to leave? Would working on those projects, and delving deep into all of that subject matter cause me to embrace the outside world again with open arms- as a child that needs a hug after being reprimanded, or an old friend that needs my love after I have tried to shed some light on her shortcomings or would it make me appreciate my new friends in the funny farm and see that they are more sane than the ones on the outside? Would the world appreciate my attempts and observations and welcome me back into her arms or burn me at the stake as it does to so many others even today?

Obviously you know the answer to most of these questions, or I would be writing to you from the Oregon State Hospital.