We all have regrets. I know I regret a great many things in my life. In a fantastic picture, I wish I could say I regret loosing everything on a game of blackjack. Regret the gambling obsession that forced me into a career as an adult film star so I could pay off my casino debts. And with that, the dirty and sticky recession of my soul that caused me to become a heroin addict. Remorse of owning nothing, and the allure to score another fix. Grief as I stepped into a life of crime, mugging the innocent to score moolah. Filthy green to buy packets of powder and pills. But that would all be lies and exaggerations. Nancy Reagan taught me not to do drugs. Went to Vegas for the first time when I was 35. Don't even own an adult movie. My life is simple and boring.
Like Frodo’s Ring, one regret rules them all – not following my dreams when I should have. My childhood fell victim to peer pressure. Succumbed to the false ambition of academic excellence. See, I thought the way to be accepted by my friends and the world around me was to be someone that owned a fancy diploma matted into a piano-black frame. In a lazy attempt to achieve it, I sacrificed all that was important - my art. And in my race to be accepted, I inadvertently overlooked my one true talent.
I miss the days when I sat in my grandmother’s floor tracing Kid-Flash out of New Teen Titans #28; sitting at the old IBM typewriter in my mother’s bedroom to rattle out a new G.I. Joe adventure; doodling on graph paper to architect new designs of Veritech Fighters; dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 AM so I could photograph colorful hot air balloons.
Now whispers of melancholy dance in the recesses of my mind. Somehow I try and convince myself I can go back. Transport myself back to the past – Roswell, 1985. Tell myself to listen to my 7th grade art teacher who spoke of my raw talent and begged for me to never set down the brush. Ignore the worries of impressing friends because I’d rather study the heroics of Superman than mitochondria. I know it's not too late but life isn't slowing down for me to catch up. So now I make every effort to motivate my daughter to follow her dreams. Do what her heart tells her to do. Ideology that is motivated on the eve of Bree choosing a new school – a new school engrossed in art and theatre. I envy her as she will soon have friends that cherish her artistic talents and support her creative endeavors instead of lure her away.
