The Art and Joy of Job Hopping

Summers for a lot of kids are filled with camps, riding bikes, hours playing video games, or just being bored at home. Summers in the movies were amazing. You trotted down to the swimming hole and bonded with your friends, found a dead body...wait...no...that's not a good movie...

Anyway, summers for kids are usually for recreation and relaxing before the next school year starts. I firmly believe kids need this time to really live and be kids. For the most part that is how my summers were until I was about 11 years old. I had the option of staying at home all day. My other option was to go to work. I chose work.

I didn't have to go work. I didn't have to pick up slack for my parents to help pay rent or anything drastic like that. My parents always made ends meet. Our family didn't always have a lot of surplus cash though, so if I wanted extra shit, I had to earn it. I also wanted to feel useful, important, and grown up. At the time, tearing shingles off a roof and then throwing them into a trailer was about the only option I had.

I worked for $2 per hour until I was about 13 years old when my dad gave me a raise to $5 per hour. At the time, $5 per hour was higher than minimum wage and $200 per week was a fucking fortune. However, this meant I couldn't just take days off when I wanted, I couldn't get distracted making shingles into throwing stars, and I had work like everyone else.

This was pretty fun until I was about 16 years old, a few of my friends worked for my dad during the summer at that point, but I was angsty and bored and wanted to go out and experience things! I really had no idea what I wanted to do but it wasn't hauling lumber around a job site.

During the school year I had my first "real job" when I turned 16. We had built a house for the franchise owners of some McDonald's around our area. My dad set it up and I was hired. The last couple of years I was in high school, I worked there for the most part. I had to pay for my own truck and the insurance. I came short several times and my parents picked up the slack but I worked all the fucking time. I was putting in 35 hours per week and going to school. This was crazy nonsense but where I am from, they put a premium on working, above education.

One thing became pretty clear to me back then...I hated working. Work was the worst but could be a little better if I could get a friend hired on and we could throw nuggets at each other.

I also lost my virginity to my night shift manager, so I guess it wasn't all bad. I just hated the work part of working. About 7pm in Smalltown TX, a fast food joint turns into a circus and I would be petrified if someone from school came in and saw me in my black pants and purple shirt. Fuck...

Back in East Texas I never held the same job very long. I have done everything from flipping burgers, being a janitor, filling orders at a warehouse, washing dishes, construction, installing cable, satellite TV, commercial satellites, cashier, locating utility cables, tending bar, and working at a flea market. It was amazing that I could find so much work in a place that really doesn't have a lot of jobs or opportunity. That is when I realized I was really good at interviewing.

When I finally left the butthole of the Lone Star State that is East Texas and came to Austin, I had no idea where to start. One little quirk that has kept me from construction work most of life is the fact that I am afraid of heights. When I worked for my dad, this was worked around. I just had other duties like cutting, trim, framing, and getting made of for being afraid of heights. In Austin I assumed that any construction job would mean that I would be hanging over the edge of a skyscraper so I didn't even try. The first job I actually landed was in sales.

I will begin by saying that I was naive and stupid when I got here in 2008. Where I am from, if a man works in an office, he is either a boss or a sissy. So I figured getting hired at in an office setting meant that I was finally on my way up! (I ain't no sissy Jack!)  I knew what a call center was, but they kept calling this place an office so I went with it. I didn't know what an office should look like so I questioned NOTHING. Now, I can look back and tell you that even the appearance of this place was shady as fuck. It looked like they could close up shop and run at any moment. No decor, cheap and tiny cubicles, old school phones, and cheap computers.

The atmosphere was one of a boiler room where sales and CLOSERS were king. They had their own little lingo and language and the whole place smelled of douche. A friend of mine worked there and I went in for an interview. I put on my best jeans and my only button up shirt. It was blue, fit poorly, and it was obvious it was from Wal-Mart.

In the interview a soft looking and sassy speaking gentleman named Brian quickly made comment of my relaxed dress to a job interview.

He said "So, you wore blue jeans to a job interview."

I didn't want to admit that this was the best I could do so I said "Well, where I am from, you never know what you might have to do to get hired. I thought you might have me weedeating or something."

I got hired.

Training was 1 day of shadowing people on the phone. The next day was trial by fire. I was sat down at a cube with a phone, a pen, a pad, and list of names and phone numbers with debt amounts next to them. I didn't even get a computer yet. When I asked about it, they laughed and assured me I wouldn't even need it.

The list was a list of all the people that had said NO to the debt settlement program. Not a list of people that had said NO once, but it was the list of people that had said no repeatedly and became homicidal when I mentioned where I was calling from. You had to get 3 deals from that endless list before you were allowed to have new leads.

That place was so sketchy that even though I was promised giant commissions and live changing money, I rarely made any money.

The draw against commission structure was designed to have people basically owing them money by the time they got fired or quit. Again, I had no idea that this kind of thing was out of the norm or shady in anyway. Now, if you google Swift Rock, Clear Your Debt, or Derin Scott (the owner) you will see that they are or were in some deep water with States Attorney Generals all over the country and they do not exist anymore. They conned everyone from the employees to the customers and made off with millions.

It was a shady and criminal enterprise but it was the best damn sales training anyone could ask for. You had to be quick on your feet. Calm and collected at all times and demand the ONE CALL CLOSE. I was fucking good at sales, I just needed a place not run by shysters and con men and I would be golden.

From there I would work in call centers selling home alarm systems, legal package bullshit at LegalZoom, SEO packages at Yodel!, and hustling HBO at Time Warner Cable. Time Warner Cable being the worst soul sucking job anyone could find themselves in.

It takes a special breed of person to work in a call center and survive. It takes a maniac, or a giant loser to work in one and like it. At all of these places, I learned a lot and honed my skill and sharpened my salesmanship blades! The only problem was that every single day a little piece of my soul died. I would get excited if I had to legitimately take a shit. Humans aren't supposed to get THAT happy when they have to poop. But, if that BM is going give you about 10 minutes of freedom from being chained to a cubicle by a headset, then it was a magical poop every time.

After about 3 years of hard time in the call center world I had had enough. I looked elsewhere. I worked in a window tint / car audio place for awhile. The owner was a maniac though and would lose his temper all the time. He lost it with employees and customers alike. Learning how to tint windows and install car alarms and radios was super cool but this fat fuck had a bad attitude and that didn't sit well with me. After some foul words one day, I antagonized him until he fired me. I took a brief unemployment check vacation.

I worked for a total of 7 workdays in some machine shop. It was hard and I never really grasped what the fuck my job was so I just quit.

Finally, I got a call from a temp agency that said a solar company needed some office help. I went for the interview and was woefully under qualified for the position. The guy that interviewed before me had a suit and tie. I had on...jeans and that fucking blue shirt again. This wasn't on purpose...I guess I just didn't update my wardrobe much.

When it was my turn to interview the guy asked "So you don't have any kind of technical or science background at all?"

I said "I think I had a friend in high school that had a meth lab."

I got the job.

This place was amazing and I was able to put my phone sales skills to use and learn about a field that  I still work in part time and I am passionate about. Unfortunately, this was a young company that had some struggles that they did not make through and it closed up. Those guys were awesome and I still keep in touch with one of them. They are all doing fine still doing the good work of solar.

Again I bounced around from job to job until getting hired on at the solar company I work for now. Finally I found the job that compliments my blue collar background, allows me to use my sales skills, and does not chain me to a desk. The company treats everyone like human beings not numbers, treats their customers with the most respect and attention I have ever seen, and refuses to do the wrong thing under any circumstance.

I was finally happy with a "job".

Up to this point, I never stopped looking and applying for new jobs. I sat through countless cattle calls where some smiley young lady would hand everyone water and try to sell you on the "culture" of this work place.

"Fridays are bagel day! Free bagels every Friday ya'all!"

Being that I have no college degree and a questionable work history, I always found it weird they were trying to sell me so hard on why I should work for them. I guess because they know that the job is menial and below standard for anyone that has a mind of their own so they need to church it up with snacks and video games in the "lounge".

They always promised pay that would be unheard of for someone like me. Basically telling me that, walking in off the street, I could make 6 figures my first year if I applied myself. Then they would show an example of a model employee that was doing just that. After some time you realize he/she was the ONLY employee doing that and usually not by ethical means.

I have standards for sales if I am going to last any length of time. First I have to believe in what I am selling. The first sales job scarred me for life when I realized it was a scam. I felt guilty and I do not do well with guilt. Secondly, I need autonomy. I cannot be in a call queue. That is demeaning and painful. Lastly, I just want to do my fucking job and go home. I don't want to play games, engage in company culture or be best buddies with any one. You fucks work at the same place I do so I know what kind of bad life decisions you make. I can do that on my own.

Most call centers are full of people that are drunk during the day. The management team are not as qualified as they are loyal, so they are basically ne'redowells with decent paycheck. They like to buy those giant watches and wear ridiculous shoes. I cannot take them seriously, so I certainly had a hard time looking to them for guidance or leadership. At any given time I can pick out a call center manager from 100 yards away in the dark. Those guys are the fucking worst.

The thing that I always took with me was finding the transferable skills that the job offered. I paid attention to those. When I reached a point of diminishing returns, I would just leave. Sometimes quietly and sometimes by getting fired in some comical way. I never left before some d-bag would pull me to the side and say "You could make a lot more money if you improved your attitude."

But money is not a huge motivator for me. I never had it growing up and I know that life can be good with or without it. I have a good attitude I just don't make a habit of becoming friends with everyone I work with. I do have friends I met through jobs, but only a few.

Learning from all these places was my education. I learned how to use a computer, CRMs, Excel, Word, PowerPoint and other things you don't learn tearing shingles off of a roof in 100 degree heat. I learned fancy words like closing ratio and sales metrics. I learned how to talk to people and I learned how to really listen to what people are saying. I learned how to uncover needs and be creative for the good of your client. I learned that there will be no more bagels if you wait to go to the break room until your break time.

I also learned that at any job, I was expendable. I was an ass in a seat and there was some other person that wanted his own ass in that same seat. I learned that human beings are not designed for the world we live in today. Some people function better in it than others but it just isn't right somehow. Sitting in chair, staring a screen, repeating a script over and over an over for 8-12 hours is mindless, soul crushing bullshit. I thought I was dealing with depression for a long time but I have come to realize I was just living an inauthentic robot life that no one should be happy with.

I was not designed to dress business casual and report to someone every time I needed to make a pee-pee. I was getting soft, figuratively and literally. I gained weight, I drank more, I yearned for something that had meaning. Despite the attempt by any employer to sell on how I was "doing good" or helping to improve someones life, I knew it was a bullshit attempt at employee retention.

2 days off per week and 2 weeks of vacation a year is a weird American invention that is designed to keep people earning paychecks to pay for shit they don't need and can't afford without any time to enjoy it. Then you get to spend your best years staring at some fat dudes ass crack across from you until you retire when you are 65 or 70 and pray for the sweet release of death....or less dramatically, trips to Florida.

I am not special. I'm just not built for that. I need independence and sustenance. I don't desire to be a millionaire as much as I desire to do work that means something.

So at the end of 2016 I said my goodbyes to the job I loved at the solar place. I had found something that I was truly thrilled to do. That was when I really started plugging away hard at my business building and selling fitness equipment. (Later in 2017 I asked to go back to solar part-time because I love it, missed it, and needed some extra cash.)

Even though I hated most every single minute at those jobs, I learned a ton that made my current enterprise possible and even owe that experience to how well it is thriving.

First, I learned that people want to speak with someone if they are buying something new. I learned that no questions are stupid if you are going to be spending your hard earned money on a product. I learned that some customers aren't a good fit. I learned that the customer is not always right but there is always a professional way to let them know that. I learned that you don't have to wear slacks and button up shirt to be taken seriously, that is the costume of a clown. If you know your shit, and come at people correctly, they will respect you and buy from you. I learned that if you aren't going to go to college, then you need to teach yourself by paying attention. I learned that I will never wear giant watches and I hate sports analogies. I learned that a bagel is like a dollar and free ones aren't that important and ironically enough, I learned I don't even like fucking bagels. (But some of those toppings were bomb as fuck)

If you have kids and a mortgage and other responsibilities, I don't suggest job hopping. It is perilous and risky. It borders on irresponsible. I had the luxury of youth and no children on my side. I also had the added benefit of a lower standard of living.

What I do suggest is listening to that little voice in your head that says you want something else. I suggest ignoring that other voice that sounds like Lumberg telling you to be reasonable and stay where you are forever because it is safe. There is no safety in conforming to a life that makes you unhappy. You cannot get more time to follow your dreams. You will die and it will suck even worse if you die driving home from a job you hate where you had to work an extra hour because Karen called in again because her mouth herpes flared up.

Humans are ancient creatures and have evolved so well because we followed our intuition and did what we needed to survive. We were meant to hunt, gather, build, and create. It goes against our very being to drone on in an endless hellscape of halogen lights and copy machines. No grown man or woman should have to take orders from a guy that combines his first initial with the first 3 letters of his last name to make up a new stupid name and that listens to EDM in his older model BMW. Fuck that guy.

You may think that there is no money in doing what you dream and that is true if you never do it. But you might surprise yourself if you actually give it a shot. I didn't think there would be any money in me building boxes out of plywood for people to jump on, but it's paying bills now. Sure the boxes alone are nothing. But its my strategy and the connection I make with people that keeps things going. At the end of the day, I get to look at a tangible product that I created and molded myself. I get to see a customer that is super stoked to get one of products and thank me. They thank me for doing something that I LOVE TO DO! Honestly, I have to control myself because I can go over board with showing gratitude. I just get excited.

If the only days you are excited to get out of bed are Fridays and Saturdays, there is something wrong with your life. The good news is that you can change it.

If you think getting a new job is going to do that, you are changing jobs just to do the same thing over again. Sure this job pays more than that one and so on, but if you took money out of the equation, then would you feel fulfilled? Would you be happy?

Being unhappy at a job is a truly American construct built by older generations in times of scarcity and want. We are living in more thriving times now and good ideas and good people can do well easier than ever. You can start a business without ever leaving your fucking house if you wanted to. That is insane. It is hard to think of an excuse not to.

This path is not for everyone. Some people do love their jobs. You know what? Good for you. This post isn't for you.

If you are one of those people that find yourself staring out the window daydreaming, or getting shit faced at lunch because it's the only way you can face going back to work, then this is for you. There is plenty of room for new ideas or better spins on the old ones. If you want to do something because you genuinely enjoy it, and you care the customers you expect to buy it, you are going to do well. It will take work, learning, reading, strategy, and trying to figure out what the fuck taxes are...but it is possible.

Then you can walk into work on the day before you actual last day, push all the bagels onto the floor, make fun of that guys giant watch, and leave. Or you can be professional which is probably the better option. Less fun but more professional.

Stop Calling It a Journey - Real Weight Loss Advice

Last weeks post was pretty heavy. This week I have decided to lighten things up a bit. We can travel the harder road again soon though.

This week I wanted to talk about something I have fought and struggled with for about 4 years now.

Weight Loss

We are just over the half way point in January. This is the point that some are still going strong with resolutions but most have already thrown in the towel and said FUCK IT. That is why I waited to post on the subject.

So briefly a little bit about why I feel qualified or at least "in the know" on the subject:

I have lost 60 pounds on my own. No trainers, no fancy and expensive diet plans, no surgery, no drugs.
I have gained some of it back and lost it again.
I have done extensive research on the subject.
I have learned via trial and error.
Because I am funny sometimes.

The part of weight loss, fitness, strength, health or whatever you want to call it that is the most challenging is weeding through all the bullshit information and half cocked advice that everyone wants to throw your way. Everyone seems to have the fucking answer and the magic cure that is fool proof. Basically, everyone has something to sell you. Whether they want you to buy it for money or for the sake of being right and getting a pat on the back.

The thing is that weight loss and fitness is a deeply personal thing. Your body and your mind work similarly to others but everyone is different. Everyone responds to different training styles and disciplines with varied results. The same goes for diets. So I put together a list of real world, practical, and thoroughly explored advice.

I have been down the road and I am just telling what you what I have seen. So at the end of this, you can tell me to fuck off too. In fact, I hope that your response is to do what I did and find the things that work for you and shut out all the noise that comes with this kind of change of lifestyle.

So here we go. Go grab a protein bar or smoothie and settle in.

1. Self help is bullshit.

Books like The Secret and other such nonsense that would have you believe that success is just a dream board away are going to fuck you over. You are going to spend a lot of time envisioning success and that time would be better spent planning out your meals or hitting the gym. As George Carlin said, "If you want self help, why would you read a book written by somebody else? That's not self help, that's help. There's no such thing as self help. If you did it yourself, you didn't help."
So save your money. If you want to read books that are going to help you. Try books about how your body works and responds to food. Like Wired To Eat by Robb Wolf .
Adopt a philosophy. Personally the philosophy that resonated with me the most is Stoicism. It is a philosophy based on work and effort to do your best and be a good person. Try reading The Obstacle is the Way by Ryan Holiday. 
Nothing will replace just getting started, staying focused, and working hard. That sentence is basically all the self help you need. You can't manifest the perfect body. You have to work for it.

2. Trainers and Diet Coaches

Everyone needs a little guidance from time to time. That is fair and perfectly reasonable. People approach my wife all the time at the supermarket to ask her opinion on different health food items or how to tell if an avocado is ripe. So looking for someone that can get you going in the right direction is totally cool. The only thing I noticed is that everyone has a program that they worked up that is successful for some and not for others. When it is successful for someone they are vindicated and when someone fails they write it off as someone not putting in the effort. Here is thing about all that...fuck them. There is no approach that is going to work for everyone all the time no matter what. Personally, I always found it funny that some dude who is ripped up like an old pair of jeans, that has never struggled with their weight was telling me he knows what I am going through.

Motherfucker...no you don't.

So shop around. Don't go with the person that has the best sales pitch or best before and after pictures, go with the person that says they are going to design a program based around you as an individual. Go with someone that wants to get rid of you as a client too. If you have to be their client forever then they are not doing a great job. Once you get educated and moving, you should be able to go out on your own at some point. There is no shortage of overweight people in this country so they don't need to hold to clients forever. It's all about personalization. You can look up what your macros should be on the internet. Don't you dare pay someone money to tell you that.

Here, click this, then use that money I just saved you to go get some decent running shoes. 

3. Stop Following Fitness Models on Social Media

Fitness models and trainers can be some of the most self righteous and narcissistic people on the planet. Their instagram accounts are them showing off six packs or awesome butts and posting some kind of bullshit inspirational quote as the caption. Yes they are sexy and fun to look at sometimes. The thing is that they make their money hustling bullshit like fit tea and waste trimmers, or just because they get lots of likes. The problem is that you will start aspiring to look like them and that is putting the wagon in front of the horse. 1 step at a time my friend. They get paid to, and most likely have always been, in shape. Their meal plans and workouts are designed for them and most of the time aren't even what they really do. They are trying to make a buck from sponsors. The other danger lies in comparing yourself to them. We often confuse that with "being inspired". But that is really unhealthy for your brain. You are you and your path is your path. There is absolutely no benefit to following sexy lady or buff dude on Instagram. That is unless, you are just in the mood for some eye candy. Eye candy is sugar free.

4. Stop Calling it a Journey

As far as I know cliches burn no calories. The minute you buy into the overly used bullshit lexicon of the fitness and weighloss world is the moment that you start to fail because it is going to pull you in a million directions. It's not a journey. You are changing your habits and lifestyle to get yourself healthier. I know it looks good on inspirational memes but it is useless. It is also a childish way to get likes or internet back pats. Don't go down that road. Stay focused and realistic. You are changing, it will take awhile, but it is not a journey. You aren't going to space. Stop that.

5. Joining a gym, CrossFit Box, Bootcamp or other fitness facility

All of the above are awesome. They are also scary. They are also expensive. So let's talk about price. Planet Fitness at $10 a month seems like it can't be beat. But that is the worst goddamn gym on the planet. In fact a study was done that proved the whole model is based on having memberships of people that never actually go to the gym. You can read that here. I get it though, you are spending money on better food, some workout clothes, a yoga mat and some vitamins, you need to fit in the budget. Well, gyms are like tattoos, good ones aren't cheap and cheap ones aren't good. Again the most important thing is finding one that fits you best. They all can be high pressure to join and give you an amazing sales pitch but you have to find the one that makes you want to show up. In this day and age there is no shortage of gyms and styles of workouts that you can find. You can even join a gym that does rock climbing instead of lifting weights and you will get stronger and fitter. The important thing is feeling like you belong there. When I first started out I went to a bootcamp and it was a great starting point. The problem was that I didn't fit in, it stopped being challenging, and the more I learned, the more I realized the coach was an idiot. It was also weird that I had to bring my own dumbbells and yoga mat and still pay them $80 per month to workout at a public park. These motherfuckers didn't even bring water. Find something that you like to do, weightlifting, CrossFit, martial arts, rock climbing, running, rowing, cycling, yoga, pilates, whatever but shop around. You have time and most of those places will give you a free week. Just use the whole free week before committing. If they are pressuring you to sign a contract before you have even gone for a week, they are probably horseshit and they know it so they have to trap you. If you are in the Austin area and want recommendations, email me and I will give you a few to try.

6. Dieting

You cannot out train a bad diet. Cheat days will wreck a whole weeks worth of progress. No, you did not earn yourself a whole pizza. Changing the way you eat is the hardest part. Working out is the easy part. Sure you get tired but you get to post all those gym selfies and brag about how you bench pressed a bunch of weight. You have accountability and get to wear cool clothes. But when it comes to food, you are alone at night and staring at that bag of Doritos that you swore you wouldn't eat but couldn't bring yourself to throw away. There is no easy way here. You just have to do it, suffer through the beginning but it will smooth out after awhile. The number one thing everyone can agree on is that sugar has to go. Sorry. But if you are just starting out, don't just dive into the deep end. Start with common sense solutions that are small and attainable. Don't go full bore paleo or keto...maybe just stop drinking Dr. Pepper or having that morning Super Blaster Breakfast Burrito Explosion. Just ease into it. Diving in head first is the biggest reason people fail. It is overwhelming and you will give up. Even your taste buds need a little time to adjust. Steamed broccoli isn't that good and even if you tell yourself it is, it will always just be broccoli. So go easy on yourself at first. Try to eat real foods as much as you can and learn to read labels. Typically if it is in bag, box, or can it's not great for you. Ingredients that you don't recognize or can't pronounces are a sign that the box of "Healthy Options" is horseshit. A steak is cow, a cucumber is a cucumber, water is water. The easiest thing to do is get acquainted with your spice rack and try to eat foods that have no ingredients. If you need a protein bar or something, that's cool, just check the sugar content and make sure they are clean. I eat Quest bars all the time. Lastly, if you educate yourself on the best kinds of food for the human body, listen to your body, and avoid starving yourself, you don't have to pay Snap Kitchen hundreds of dollars per month to prepare your meals.

7. Plan ahead

Excuses are one of the biggest cause of weight gain. You have to plan your meals and workouts. If you are super busy with kids and work and building a robot best friend, then set aside a few hours a week to prep your food. Commit to gym/workout time and make it a priority. Eating the right way is more important that going to the gym. You can lose weight without ever picking up a kettlebell. Working out is the fun part, eating is the priority. But you have to commit to both things. Plan your week, days, and hours with those things in mind. If you don't plan, you are likely to make an excuse to grab a burger on the way home or say you'll just hit the gym tomorrow. Excuses will make you fat and keep you fat and unhealthy.

8. Step Away From the Scale

The first thing you should be using to judge your progress is how you feel. Do you feel better? Are you more lively? Are you laughing more, sleeping better, or craving more sexy times? Perfect. Then you are doing something right. Do your clothes feel better on your body? Awesome. These are the indicators you should be looking for. Weightloss is not linear. You will have some weeks where you drop 5 pounds, and some where you drop 1, some with none, and some where you gain a pound! AHHHHHHHHH! Well, water retention, not pooping, or any number of things can reflect on the scale and honestly, they mean nothing. Sure, if you are heavier after a month of doing the right thing, something needs to be adjusted, but weighing yourself everyday will only frustrate you. So stop that shit. Get a tailoring tape measure and measure yourself. Go get dunked in one of those tanks to see what your body fat is. But don't trust the scale you bought at Wal-Mart to be the tool you use to measure your progress. I suggest at most weighing yourself once a week. Side note: It is hard as fuck to gain a lot of weight by putting on muscle. Don't fall for that argument or excuse.

9. But I don't want to go to a gym!

Good. Then don't. I don't go to a gym anymore. Whether you just don't like it or you can't afford it, you don't HAVE to go to a gym. All of these places, trainers, and so on are businesses and they have an interest in enticing and convincing you to go. But what I have found is that the whole world is gym. Personally, I am an introvert and I don't like crowded gyms or group fitness situations where I am forced hold someones feet while they do sit-ups. I have done it, a lot, and I just don't like it. You can go to the park and run, do body weight exercises, walk and practice some sweet ass karate moves. If you don't like the thought of someone judging your flying snap kick, do it in your back yard. The internet is a magical thing. You can read the thoughts of some super cool guy like me and find FREE workouts,  tutorials, and form coaching on Youtube. There are tons of free yoga classes too. Check out my good friend Becca.

Personally I like lifting weights, swinging a kettlebell, and jumping on a plyo box. So I stopped my memberships and built my own home gym. Once you know what kind of workouts you like to do, you can start buying all the things that will compliment that for your garage gym. There are a lot of low cost options. Craigslist is a good place of course, Facebook market place, or sites like my own.
I build fitness equipment and sell it at a fair price compared to the major competitors out there. www.pw23fitness.com - Onnit has some great gear and if you sign up for their mailing list, they do have some awesome sales.

Just get yourself moving but make sure you are doing something you enjoy so that you will keep doing it.

10. Don't kid yourself
Changing the way you have always been is not easy to do. You didn't get overweight or unhealthy overnight and you aren't going to fix it overnight. I don't care what the advertisement promises, you are not going "transform" in a matter of weeks. Not only is this a physical process, it is a mental game, and emotionally taxing. Progress is progress. If you are headed in the right direction, you shouldn't be concerned with the timeline unless you life is in imminent danger. In that case, I hope you are seeing a doctor. A lot of folks jump in thinking they are going to lose all the weight they need to on some absurd timeline. 1 to 2 pounds per week is good, common, and healthy. Sure you can lose more and sometimes you will, but if you are in that range, you are doing great. 10 pounds in a week and you might have a problem on your hands. The Biggest Loser has fucked with people's heads. Those people all gain the weight back because that program is made for TV. Just settle in and do it the right way.

11. Don't Kid Yourself Part 2
The flip side to the above paragraph is don't kid yourself into thinking that you are going to turn your nose up at science and do this your own way. Bastardizing healthy programs and processes is another huge mistake people make. People want to be on a keto diet and gorge themselves with Cream Cheese and bacon. All you are doing is rearranging your old bad habits. You like to eat like shit so you are putting a new label on it and calling it a diet. Keto, Paleo, or just eating clean requires a little common sense and you need proper nutrition. Life isn't all about losing weight. You also need vitamins and minerals and fiber and protein. Oils in fish are good for your brain. Fiber helps you poop and carries food through your body. Magnesium serves almost 300 different functions in your body. So before you start dipping pork rinds in cream cheese, think about optimizing your bodies performance. Skinny doesn't equal healthy.

You also don't EARN bad behavior. We are all humans and like a treat on occasion. But a treat isn't ingesting a pizza and washing it down with a supersized McFlurry. Maybe try a slice or 2 and a small ice cream cone. Then back the fuck out of the parking lot and go home and prepare more healthy meals.

12. Don't kid yourself part 3
You might be a salesperson, an accountant, attorney, store clerk, waiter, or some kind of secret crime fighter. But chances are if you are trying to lose weight and get healthy, you are not a pro athlete. So don't decide you are going to eat and train like one. Their whole job is to be physically fit. That is what they get paid to do. So they are able to dedicate all their time, energy and resources to look and perform the way they do. Maybe you want to do that, but you have miles ahead of you before you are there. Don't kid yourself into thinking that if you follow their path, you will end up the same way. You are not surrounded by coaches and teams of people day in and out, that are priming you for peak performance. You might not even have the same physical capacity that they do just because of your biology. I will never be an NBA player. It doesn't matter if I had started training for it at 3 years old. I am not tall, coordinate, and I look stupid in baggy shorts. Be yourself, work hard, and then you will be the best you can be.

13. Set Goals
Sure, you say you want to lose 50 pounds. Then you use that same cliche and call it a "goal weight". Or you want to fit into that dope ass Sublime t-shirt you bought back in high school, again. Those are the easy goals. But you have to set some stepping stone goals. Maybe you want to lose 50 pounds this year, but how much to do you need to lose this week to get there? About 1 pound. That is more attainable than the far reach of 1 year and 50 pounds. Then set some auxiliary goals because focusing on weight loss will break your brain. Maybe say you want to run a 5k in March then do an obstacle course in June. Give yourself some attainable goals that require you be accountable. If you want to lose 50 pounds this year but you can't lose 1 pound in a week, you aren't going to get there. If you sign up and pay the fee for a race or competition, then you have locked yourself in for preparing for that event. I could go on and on about that but I think you get the point.


To sum it up- The process is hard. You are not on a journey, you are just changing the way you operate. Hopefully the change is permanent. Just use common sense to get started, then try to build on that as you go. There are things glaring at you everyday that you know you need to stop doing. You can eat well and workout all week but a Saturday night of 12 beers and 3am taco bell is going to fuck you. Get your head right and wrapped around the task at hand and then get after it. Find a support team if need one, tell those close to you what you are doing so they can help or at least not fuck you over, then get to work. Don't waste time with self help books, platitudes, or sexy people on social media. Don't try and reinvent the wheel. Your logic and processes got you to where you are now. Don't lean on or blame others. This is your problem now, you have to own it.

I hope you achieve your goals this year and all the years to come. Get some!

Sometimes There Are No Heroes

I would stand there waiting for the school bus. I was nervous about it everyday, but that was dampened by how important I felt. I was finally going to school. I was in kindergarten and this was one of the few places we lived where I could not walk to school. In the winter, my hands would freeze and I wouldn't dare take them out of my pockets. I just stood there looking over my left shoulder, waiting to hear that diesel sound of the bus coming around the corner. When it finally did, the only thing louder than the engine was the sound of chipper kids in the morning. This always made more nervous because I didn't have any friends and I knew it was going to be hard to find a place a sit. I was always a nervous kid. Moving around a lot meant always having to readjust and make new friends and I was not good at either one.

But when the weekend would come, this place was pretty cool for a kid. We lived near the Brazos river, there were woods and hills right by our house, so you could explore and play and exist in your own little world where you were safe. I wasn't able to read yet but I could fight off bad guys, make magic spells with mud, and discover long lost treasures at this place.

I was about 5 years old when we lived in Kopperl TX. I remember all of my solo adventuring, I remember that being the Christmas someone in my family decided to start getting me Elvis memorabilia, my babysitter that lived next door made me try beets, being in awe of the kid down the road and his amazing toy collection, and that this was the place where the devil would come and steal my childhood from me.

This was the time and place where a darkness that would cover me for most of my life, first put it's midnight veil over my mind and soul.

Across the road from our house was a hill with a large rock on top of it. At 5 years old this hill was a mountain ripe for exploration and discovery. The big rock at the top served as a peak that was the finish line for my epic voyages. The rock represented a place where my imagination would tell me that there was treasure buried underneath it. That rock and treasure was protected by wild beasts that I had to evade or destroy along the way.

On the occasion that my brother, who is 5 years older than me, would join me on the quest, I would be elated! He was the coolest guy I knew and stronger than anyone. (Besides my dad of course) We could go out there for hours and avoid doing chores at home as long we kept ourselves busy playing and out of sight. So when other child friends or relatives came to visit, that is where we took them.

That big hill with the rock on top would be the place of many of my adventures. Then it became the place I first remember my uncle molesting me.

My uncle was older than my brother by about 4 or 5 years. So I guess he had to be about 14 or 15 at the time. We all headed over to the hill for some adventure and fun. When we reached the top, my uncle being the oldest came up with different missions for each of us. He sent my brother off on some pretend task and said I could help him. I was excited to be on the team of the oldest kid there! We meandered around in the woods a bit, my brother separating from us more by the minute. I guess once he figured we were sufficiently alone, he asked if wanted to try something, that feels good. I was 5 years old, so of course I said I did.

He said that I can't tell anyone about it. He said that I would get in trouble, he wouldn't be my friend anymore, that he would pretend it didn't happen. I still had no idea what was happening, so I promised not to say a word.

That is when he put his hand on over my zipper and rubbed the area. He asked if it felt good. I said I don't know. He took it further. He unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pulling them down. He knelt in front of me and fondled me, continuing to ask if it felt good. He put my penis in hands then his mouth. I was mortified and just stood there. I remember shaking a little and feeling dizzy like I was going to fall over. The magic forest of my pretend adventures dissolved into a cold and hard real world where imagination no longer existed.

After what seemed like him fondling me forever, he unbuttoned, unzipped, and exposed himself to me. He was erect. He asked if I wanted to touch it. He told me one day mine would be bigger and could be hard like his was. When I didn't reach out on my own, he grabbed my hand and put it on his penis. He moved it in a masturbation motion and said that I was making him feel good. Then he told me to open my mouth....

In one experience that probably lasted a total of 10 minutes, my soul was dead.

No hero swooped in to save me. This was a dark secret that I believed I would be in big trouble for exposing. My play area was now the site of confusion and pain. I hurt and I was more alone than ever before. I would never be the same and I would struggle with the torment and anger from this for years.

There were many other times besides this one. If he could find a way to lure me away from a group or if he was asked to babysit, the nightmare would happen over and over. At some point, it just stopped.

My child brain was unprepared to process any of this. The rest of my childhood was no picnic either. Constantly moving around from one trash heap to the next, parents with a strong discipline hand, and a new sister gave me ample things to try figuring out.

I know my parents loved me. I never have any doubt about that. I didn't then and I don't now. But, 30 years ago they were different people. Both of them from poor and hard childhoods. Both of them having things to deal with themselves. But like I said, they had a strong hand when it came to discipline. Our home was in no short supply of spankings with a hand or a belt, short tempers, and walking on egg shells. For me, they weren't the kind of people you could turn to with hard questions because there was always an underlying fear of getting in trouble. So most of this stuff was internalized, suppressed, or forgotten to the best of my ability.

It wouldn't be until years later when I was 11 years old, I had the courage and clarity to say anything about it. I was talking with a friend that told me something like that happened to her. She was telling me it was hard and she had to go to counseling. When she was talking all of the darkness rose back up in me. All of the pain and torment I had worked hard to put to sleep came raging back. I told her it had happened to me too. I told her what happened, when it started, and where. She told me that I had to tell an adult and I had to do it NOW.

I walked into the living room of my aunts house where my dad and I were living temporarily. No one else was there and he was watching TV. I sat down on couch next to the chair where he was sitting and told him I had to tell him something. He can see on my face it wasn't going to be easy for me so he turned off the TV, and turned to give me his full attention.

"Remember when we used to live in Kopperl, and Neal would come visit a lot..."

The story poured out and I could see him absorbing my pain while also feeling his own. I could see his own confusion, concern, anger, and sadness all over his face, even though he was trying to be strong for me.

He made some calls to family that needed to be in the loop. His mom, my mom, my aunt. He needed to send out a warning about this guy that still freely moved around the family and kids. He needed some guidance on what to do next and how to handle it I am sure.

Not too long after talking to my dad he took me to a child therapist who I had to tell the story to. Then I had to go over to some county building and write out the story out in affidavit format. It was painful reliving it but now that I knew what had happened was wrong and bad, and that my uncle was the worst kind of bad guy, I had hope that something was about to be done about it.

Nothing was ever done about it.

You see, Texas will hunt you down for years and years for bounced checks, traffic tickets, or fishing without a licence, but when it comes to molestation and rape of children, there are limits to how long the state will give a shit. Since I was molested by a master manipulator and strong predator, I had waited too long to say anything. I think they told me I should have said something when it happened. Because at 5 years old, of course I should have had the wherewithal and foresight to understand what was happening and statute of limitations policy for my state.

Nothing would be done about it.

I think my mom confronted him about it. He denied it. He was exiled from our immediate family but the world kept turning and plenty of my extended family chose to believe him and let him continue to lurk.

My parents sought no other means of justice for me.

This was just going to be my issue to deal with from then on. We would not bring it up or address it anymore. Until the pain from this and other elements of my broken childhood came to an exploding head during my teen years. I was a nervous, neurotic, pain stricken teen and I just let it explode out of me. I was a hard kid to deal with and I didn't even care much about myself. This is a recipe for disaster. The whole time I was acting out in school, at home, in public or wherever, I was looked at as a discipline problem. I was grounded, scolded, lectured, hit, punched, kicked out, and made to feel like a general piece of shit because I couldn't seem to get my act together.

I was never treated for my trauma.

Years passed by. The memories lingered in dreams but seemed to subside during the waking hours. I just had pain in me with no outlet. No where for it to go but deeper and deeper inside of me. When it would get to be too much I would explode or worse...implode.

Not 3 or 4 years later I was headed home from a day out on my bike around our small town. As I turned the corner on Robertson Lane and my house came into a view I saw a strange truck parked in the little lot next to our house, and a new person helping my step dad unload a trailer. As I got closer, it was him...the devil had come back. This time he had been invited.

A rush of pain and hatred covered me. My soul cried but my mind and body remained resolute to show no fear and no signs of the damage he had caused.

As if nothing had ever happened, I was informed he would be working for my step dad. He had actually moved to our little town for the job. (I would find out later that my stepdad had no idea of what he had done or that anyone else knew about it. He was pissed and assured he would have put a bullet in his brain had he known.)

He was here. He was invited. He wasn't leaving.

A new blow stuck me down when I realized what this meant. It meant no one believed me.

It was a mystery to my parents and other authority figures why as a teen I liked heavy metal music, that I wanted to be drunk all the time, why I would try drugs, and why I had no self-esteem.

Dysfunction, abuse, horror, and darkness are all par for the course in my lineage. I would be hard put to find a family member older than me that didn't endure all of those things themselves. Our normal was super fucked up. Poverty, religion, and pain were staples.

My stepdad was the first example of normal, structure, and wanting better that I ever had. Being oblivious to these things is the standard way of dealing for most of my family.

The work relationship didn't last with this guy. Though, for the time he was there, I was expected to be around him. He was left alone with me, he was treated like...family.

He was treated so kindly, that I had a hard time understanding where I even fit in. Was I just looked at as a liar? Did I not even matter? Was everything somehow my fault? What was wrong with me?

I hurt.

I fought hard to fix myself. I put myself in therapy as long as I could afford it. But I went through a lot of dark years that started when I was a teenager. They wouldn't let up for years and years. I wouldn't even begin to find happiness until I moved away from my family to Austin as an adult. Things got darker for awhile. I was a fat drunk that showed no concern for others and honestly didn't care if I died. I even tried to help that happen in 2007.

I was the hurt, I was the abused, I was the victim and I was forgotten.

He was the predator, he was the evil, he is the pedophile and he still walks around free today. I have even heard that he has continued his campaign of horror on children and that is why I am writing this. Because the law does not protect anyone, and we cannot take the law into our own hands, all I can think to do is put this out there. A warning. A detailed account of a real life demon walking among us, destroying lives in his wake.

I have made it abundantly clear to my family that if I find out he is anywhere near my nieces or nephews, consequences be damned, there will be violence. I have been more outspoken about this as I have gotten better, and I think whether they believe it happened to me or not, they know that they will also suffer my wrath should I found out they dismiss my warnings.

My life was almost ruined by this man. But I am intrepid. I crawled myself out of the depths of the hell that was my childhood and I am stronger for it today. I have left behind my heritage of a white trash existence, and I am starting a new legacy and example for my nieces, nephews, and my own children when they come along. I am at peace but I am also wrath, should it be called for. I am strong and it is my duty to stand strong for others that cannot.

Writing this, publishing it, sharing it, is not easy. As I wrote this I could feel that darkness surround me. My eyes are burning, I have started shaking at points, and more than once thought about retreating.

The reason I am writing this is because I recently heard that he has not stopped. I think it is safe to say that he most likely will never stop. Just like his father, my biological grandfather,  who died in prison for a long life of the rape and abuse of children. He died during his second term in prison. He was convicted of this stuff before, but of course, he was let out. When he got out, he did it again, went back and finally Satan took him home.

There are no heroes for us. Laws, culture, and society do not put a value on standing up for victims. Hashtags are little relief for the pain. Changes in the laws, reaction to the stories, and support for the victims need to be a priority. However right now we are much more worried about who can get married and abortion and taxes than the lives of people being destroyed by disgusting animals that prey on the weak.

I can tell you this about him:

He lives in Oklahoma somewhere.
His name is Ronnie Neal Wilson
He is on Facebook.
He lives a normal life.
He has never suffered any consequence for his action.
He is a predator. He is a pedophile. He is human garbage that will likely continue to hurt kids.


There is nothing I can do to him legally. I cannot sue him, he cannot go to jail for what he did to me, and I don't know anyone personally he is currently hurting to have them come forward.

Vengeance is not worth me losing my life and what I have worked for. He is not a threat to those closest to me but he is a threat. There is a whole side of my family I do not even come close to interacting with and they allow him to thrive and supply him with a fresh batch of victims all the time. So I think the only thing I can do is put his name out there in the open. I may catch some heat for that but someone has to do something and it has to start somewhere.

So feel free to share this. Sharing this puts a spot light on one predator. Maybe it will give the strength to other victims to the same. What happens in the dark will be brought to the light.

My pain is dealt with and I do not need nor want sympathy. I am a shining example of  perseverance, that things can get better, and pain can give you strength. My life is good now. What I want is visibility of these of these atrocities against children. Some kids will not be so lucky as I was though. Some kids will feel the hurt and be crushed under it's weight. The cycle will continue for some. The darkness will grow.

Because sometimes, there are no heroes.

Most Embarrassing Public Bathroom Experience

When I fist moved to Austin, I got a job at a shady call center. We were the only business in this large office building for a long time. So I pretty much knew everyone that worked there and I knew there were no handicap folks. Knowing there were no handicap people in the building, I would use the handicap stall for number 2. It was roomy and the lock worked better on that door than the others. After some time a new business rented out the other offices on the second floor where we were. I didn't know everyone that worked there. So one day as I was killing time in the handicap stall, I saw a pair of wheels roll up to the door. I could see the man reaching for the handle through the little crack in the door. He pulled but realized it was locked. I thought he might move on but he did not. He pulled several more times, shook the door, then banged on it.

The he said "That's not your stall asshole!"

I simply replied with a nervous fart.

Whether he or I was right or wrong. That experience was my most traumatic public bathroom experience to date. Until yesterday...

Thanksgiving was filled with junk food and laziness. It was awesome and as I have said before, quite possibly my favorite day of the year. However, this kind of sloth and gluttony comes with a price.

For the most part we eat very clean at our house. So when we introduce a high dose of junk food, the mouth rejoices but the body revolts. So for a couple days after, trips to the poo palace are frequent. The affects of the Thanksgiving mouth party last for days sometimes.

Yesterday I had to make a quick run to Tractor Supply Company for some pig feed. On the way I felt the familiar rumble and hoped that it could wait 20 minutes until I got home. As soon as I hit the entrance everything settled hard and it turned from a level 1 discomfort to a level 10 emergency.

I tightened up the best I could and did a little penguin walk to the restrooms. I swiftly moved through the unusual amount of customers there doing Black Friday sale shopping. Usually the store is fairly empty, but not today. Not this weekend.

I made it to the restroom. This is your standard public bathroom. 1 urinal, 1 regular stall, 1 handicap stall. I chose the non-handicap stall this time. The bathrooms are not tucked off in a little hall way though. The mens restroom door pretty much opens up to the tool box/tire department where many folks were shopping.

I sat down and began my business. Because of the junk food eaten prior to this, it was a bit more noisy than I would prefer. As I was in the middle of everything, I heard the door open and someone come in. I tried to cut it off for a moment as what was happening was vulgar and offensive. I just wanted to be polite. As I held off the attack, a few soldiers broke through the line.

Finally the guy left and I could get back to business. Basically it sounded like someone blew up 1000 balloons didn't tie them, then let them all go in the bathroom.

Things got pretty intense. I almost got a little concerned but finally a few more putters and I was finished. Thankful to have made it to the bathroom in time and to have lived through this experience, I left the stall to wash my hands.

When I opened the door to the stall my heart stopped. I stood frozen looking at a wide open bathroom door.

The motherfucker that came in, that I so graciously put things on hold for, had left the fucking door open................

I still had to wash my hands, I still had to go get the pig feed, I still had to walk through the store, I still had to go pay.

For the most part no one made eye contact with me as I left the restroom. No one wanted to even look at the loud pooping guy.

My face was red and my ears were on fire the whole time I was in there.

This blog is called "The ADVENTURES of..." so my adventures and life lessons are not always profound but sometimes just fucking embarrassing.

My Weird Thanksgiving Tradition

The Thanksgiving Day image created by marketing firms everywhere depict families and friends coming together over delicious food to spend quality time and reflect on what they are grateful for. Grandma sets the beautiful golden turkey at the center of the table and then someone else gets the honor of carving into it. The menu is the same every year and Aunt So 'n' So makes her famous whatever and everyone watches football.

In my experience the commercial image and the reality are greatly contrasted. For me growing up it was driving at least an hour to a family member's house. Waiting another couple hours for food to be done while the adults talked and I was forced to play with cousins and other kids that I hadn't seen in a year. Anytime a new adult passed me they had the same battery of questions for me. Then the food is ready, everyone awkwardly lines up to fill their plates. Then you search for a place to sit. I am left handed so this has to be done with a little strategy. Then everyone picks at the food while deciding on who will say grace. Then once chosen this person has the undivided attention of the house and God and takes you on an epic journey of a Kevin Costner speech of a blessing. It is long and wordy. For some reason whoever says blessing in my family start using words like "thou" and "thy" and the first 60 words are all the different names for God.

"Our heavenly father, Jesus his son, St. Peter the Secretary of Heaven and Ultra Marathon runner, the alpha and the omega, King of Kings, all time quarterback, Lord, God..."

During this most reverent time, the smell of delicious food you have been waiting for hours to eat is wafting up into your nose. You are trying to be respectful because God is in the house at this point but your mouth won't stop salivating into your green bean casserole.

After you eat you are stuffed to the gills but the fun has just begun. Now with a full stomach and heavy eyes you are still forced into conversations about "How you've been doing" and whether or not the Cowboys are gonna screw this one up.

Don't get me wrong. I know the food and conversation are all done out of love and most of the family is happy to be visiting with each other. I know this is a special day. I know this. But most times it ends with pulling together all the energy you have to say your goodbyes and then sleepily driving home...where you have wanted to be for hours.



For those that can't make it home to their families at Thanksgiving, the youngsters now have "Friendsgiving" to celebrate the holiday. Typically a dinner party held the weekend before or after the actual day, everyone prepares their favorite dish, and come together to be a surrogate family to everyone else. The pros of this one is that there is not usually a long blessing and the group is smaller. The cons are the menu is usually smaller and random and you are still super stuffed with food and forced to have conversations. When I was a drinker this was more tolerable.

Thanksgiving can be brutal.

Then years ago, I was invited to several Thanksgiving lunches and dinners. My heart soared with the Eagles at all the love. My brain however, shut down like I had too many windows open on Microsoft 98. When I tried to decide where to go I just go the same message. NOT RESPONDING

I didn't consciously make the decision, but I didn't go anywhere. I just stayed home. Upon realizing I didn't really have any food, I set out to find a store open that would have some sort of a good food selection. I bought a DiGorno Pizza, some chips and dip, ice cream and beef jerky. I went home, put on some Netflix and laid around all day eating junk food, watching TV and ignoring my phone.

IT WAS GLORIOUS!

So from then on, my new tradition was one that would raise questions, make people worry, hurt some feelings, and be my favorite goddamn day of the year. My new tradition would be to spend Thanksgiving at home and alone.

As I type this I can hear everyone's thoughts about how sad that is and how I must be kind of fucked up for even considering doing this voluntarily. I know the Thanksgiving dogma. It is a time for family. It is a special time to show your love and hugs and laughing and whatnot. Look I get it. It is that special time of year where families come together and bond...followed by the exact same thing a month later at Christmas.

So before writing me off as a weird misanthrope...hear me out.

The tradition runs deep in our culture. It is a day of family and dry ass turkey and telling someone that their dish was great even though you didn't see it so you didn't eat any of it. We put aside our regular lives for one day and reflect on what we are grateful for.

I just see it a little differently. For me it means long drives. Forced conversations. Too much food and not enough space to take a nap. Faining interest in football. Wanting to go home.

But the benefits are its the one day no one will call you. Besides the obligatory "Happy Turkey Day" texts you get, it is quiet. It is peaceful. No calls from co-workers, No emails from customers. The world is sort of halted by everyone pregaming for Black Friday.

Instead of choosing to lie to everyone about where I was going and what I was doing, I just decided to embrace the magic.

My tradition is Thanksgiving alone. (Now Thanksgiving Alone with my wife should she choose to do so with me)

The whole spirit of Thanksgiving is to overeat with immunity. Thanksgiving Alone isn't all fun and games. For months, I prepare a mental and written list of all the disgusting junk food I deprive myself of on a regular basis. Cheesy Doritos are almost always on the list. In the name of tradition, I get myself a Digorno just like I did that first year. Ice Cream, candy bars, root beer all make the list.

So on the Wednesday before, I go shopping.

Then the big day. I look forward to this uninterrupted day alone so much that I often get up early just to have more hours of peace and quiet. There is a strict no pants policy. Pajama or sweat pants are acceptable. Favorite blanket ready to go on the couch, then I indulge by renting some PPV movies I have been wanting to watch.

Reply to "Happy Turkey Day" texts.

In the old days it was a little harder because people couldn't or didn't want to accept what I was doing, so I had to assure some that I was fine and not preparing a dramatic suicide.

Then the phone goes away. See, I know on this day that customers don't want to talk to me. My boss is busy with his family so I won't hear from him. Once my family gets into what they are doing, they aren't texting. I ignore social media because its basically just pictures of food with the hashtags #blessed and #grateful added to the description. There is literally nothing to do, or that can be done on this magical day and all that is left is to sit in silence and enjoy the solitude. I am tearing up right now just thinking about it.

Then in the middle of movies I just prepare the cornucopia of junk food between cat naps under Mr. Blanky. The coffee table is a war zone littered with wrappers, empty drinks, and food to be grazed upon.

I see my family throughout the year. When Christmas comes, I typically make my rounds to see my parents, nephews, and Grandma. So I am not estranged from them. I am not boycotting the holiday either. I am just celebrating in my own way.

I avoid getting up early and starving myself until the turkey that was supposed to be done at 2 is finally done at 4:30. I avoid Thankgiving traffic. I avoid those awkward conversations with people that probably leave them thinking I am more weird than if I had just stayed home. Sure I miss Grandmas famous biscuits or whatever, but have you ever eaten Pecan Pralines and Cream Ice Cream on top of a store bought cherry pie? It is heavenly. I don't have to bite my tongue when someone inevitably brings up politics or my tattoos.

I just get to sit in my sleepy time clothes, watch movies, and not be bothered by anyone or anything. I charge my batteries and take full advantage of 4 days off. Then I drift off to slumber while others are preparing for the hideous tradition of Black Friday shopping.

No man is an island but I come as close to one as I can on that third Thursday of November every year.

Traditions have never been important to me. When you break them down, they often lose the spirit of why they started and turn into a chore. I don't think spending time with someone on a specific day of the year makes it anymore special than at other times. I practice gratitude every day. No I don't want to go around the table and spout off canned responses about what I am most thankful for this year.

I love my family and friends dearly. I want to nurture those relationships. But this one day of the year when it is guaranteed that I won't be disturbed has become my tradition. As my family grows, I will continue the tradition with them.

So before you invite me to your home for Thanksgiving, just know my answer will be "No Thanks". But not to worry, you aren't invited to my house either.  I will be on my couch if you need me, but try to save it until Monday.

Thanks

Sobriety Will Give You Super Powers and other Myths - 4 Years Sober

"God didn't get you sober to fuck you over." - Alan Kaufman, Drunken Angel

Being perpetually hung over is no way to live. But, you can live through it. Somehow you get accustomed to waking up a little too late, powering through the headache, hiding the dragon breath, getting some medicinal junk food, and carrying on your day at about 50% effort. You hate every second of it, but humans are adaptable.

I gained weight, compounded by my already depressive nature, held grudges, and took little responsibility for my actions. If something bad happened that I could not blame on someone else, I blamed the booze, and I blamed the booze on the abstract of my past and tormented soul. I was a weak and opinionated shithead that lived for the beer.

I could probably share a ton of stories about all the stupid shit I did while drunk, but I honestly think that it mirrors most drunk stories and could get a little boring. Everyone has been there. Puking behind a dumpster wondering where things went wrong with that strange girl you were hitting on while sitting right next to your girlfriend. It's a tale as old as booze.

4 years postmortem of my alcohol driven life, it is easy to look back and think things weren't that bad, but that is just because I am so far removed from it now.

The last morning I ever woke up hungover, after drinking 30 Lone Stars by myself over the course of about 12 hours, I knew a change needed to be made. Unfortunately for you dear reader, I don't have an epic tale of when things came to an abrupt and exciting end. It was just the collection of bullshit that had built up in my soul over years and years of refusing to be honest with myself about anything. The lies let me avoid things like meaningful interactions, love, improvement, and honest self evaluation. I want to say I was the worst, but at best, I just didn't matter. I was nothing special.

I knew that my drinking was the root of most of my issues. I knew that it had to stop. So after reading article after article and book after book about alcoholism, I did what anyone else would do. I self diagnosed myself with Alcoholism. Then I looked up AA meetings and got my ass to one of those. I bought into the idea and committed to sobriety and the 12 steps. I did that for about a year....

I went to meetings with newcomers, old timers, lifers, the real professionals of sobriety. Keep coming back, it works if you work it. Just get to a meeting.  That's your disease talking. The platitudes are in no short supply around the meeting scene. But hell, if it's going to get you sober, and get you your life back on track, and help you survive past 40 years old, it's worth a shot.

The problem was that I could never really relate to anyone at those meetings. I would say a majority of the people there were court ordered which really took away from how genuine I thought it was. Then the other portion of the people had been to levels of hell that I have never experienced. One homeless man talked about how he shot up anything he could get his hands on until he had lost his job, family, home, and dignity and now sleeps under an overpass. One girl talked being repeatedly sexually assaulted just for access to drugs. One the softer side of the spectrum were people talking about how they drank themselves into chronic illness and homelessness. Then when it's my turn, I am supposed to talk about how I can be super annoying and am chronically late to work? I felt like an impostor. But I knew better than to compare my situation to anyone else and kept going. Just most of the time I would sit quietly and listen. Then the meetings turned more into cautionary tales. I could not relate to these people and I did not want to. I knew that I hadn't hit that kind of bottom yet, but I had the full potential to do so.

After a while I quit going. I never got a sponsor. I never worked the 12 steps. I did take some of the ideology and strategies for dealing with things away with me though.

When you decide to put down the fire water, it is confusing and difficult. Up to that point your social structure and schedule had some implied drinking time in there. We also live in a world where everything is forcefully pushed in a worst case scenario type situation in the name of safety. I think this is what led me into AA. I was desperate and didn't know what to do. It was a good and logical first step. I think it is an amazing program that has helped millions and I encourage anyone that thinks they may have a problem to just go listen to a meeting.

Listen. Pay attention. Learn. But you don't have to jump in head first. I am glad I went and think that I needed the support at the beginning. The only thing is, I didn't want a sponsor. One of the biggest myths about this whole thing is that you have to get a sponsor, check in, go to a ton of meetings and start using the vernacular they use in the group. I am 4 years sober, so someone that is 5 years sober can come in tell me that this wrong. Some one that is 20 years sober will tell them they are wrong or improve on their message. That kind of hierarchy is part of the program it seems. It is good to learn from those that are experienced. It is detrimental to your goals if you constantly assume you are different or unique and don't have to follow some kind of plan that has worked for others. BUT! You also have to listen to yourself at a certain point and follow what you think is sustainable for you.

One of the things I learned in fitness is that everyone is different. If you are 600 pounds and eating pizza everyday, some drastic steps must be taken to save your life. So if you crashed your car into a group of people because you were drunk driving, you need help. But if you are 20 pounds overweight and out of shape because you are lazy, you probably don't need gastric bypass.

Maybe it was my own personal point of view and weird way of interpreting things but after awhile and the more meetings I went to, the more sad I would get. I also couldn't connect with anyone there. I felt like a lot of the people I talked to, and granted I didn't talk to everyone, just said the same things over and over. I was not in a place where that was helpful to me.

After a year my life had improved. I had a better job. I worked hard to be the best I could be. I had lost about 30 pounds at that point, gotten a new car, and my credit was improving. Things were on the upswing. I felt good so good that I embraced my "recovery" even more.

I did reach out and try to make amends with people I had hurt. I tried to be more honest with myself. I was working out, eating better, making better decisions, eliminating toxic people and living the best little sober life I could lead.

That's when reality started to kick in. I was still depressed and couldn't sleep at night. I still had very little impulse control when it came to other vices and I was still pleading with God to silence my demons on a daily basis. Before the booze had helped muffle all of that noise, but now here I was, all alone, standing in this noisy and dangerous jungle with no weapon or my medicine.

This revealed the first myth about sobriety to me. Being sober doesn't heal you, it just makes you much more acutely aware of your wounds. You can let go and let God, but it's still going to hurt. Sometimes a lot.

This took me down a road I was not prepared for. I thought that without the weight of hangovers, the clarity, and the extra energy, these things would be there but I would be far more capable of dealing with it.  This was not the case. I was not capable of dealing with some of this stuff on my own. Without getting political here, lets just say that my health care didn't cover my case of the grumpies, and I was not able to go see a therapist. It did however cover a doctor visit and a prescription. Anti-depressants to function. Anti-Anxiety to sleep. The platform was different but here I was again depending on chemicals to get me through my days and nights. Overcoming my kind of darkness was going to take some work. There would be no short cuts or easy answers.

The next myth was that my relationships would improve. In a few instances, yes that was the case. I was less bitter toward my parents, reached out to some old friends, and wasn't ashamed of myself around new people. What I wasn't prepared for was learning how many of my friendships were based on drinking. I used to be of the mindset that time determined the value of a relationship. Now I realize it is the quality of that time that determines the value. After a few sessions of hanging out but abstaining, some people just quit calling. I tried not to be a sobriety evangelical. I only talked about it when someone asked about it. Sobriety just has that way of removing your rose colored glasses though. So I started to see people for what they truly were. How selfish and disingenuous people can be. I realized that I had friends for years that only talked about themselves, constantly. The world did not exist outside of their bubble and I was a mere sounding board for all of their bullshit. Little by little my large and multifarious group of friends started dwindling.

Nearly 2 years into this new life my relationship of 5 years unraveled fairly quickly yet trivially. No big blow up. No persistent issues. Just growing boredom and indifference. It was mutual and on good terms but it was interesting. After 3 years of my being a sad, annoying drain, but 2 years into being better and less annoying, this too was coming to an end. Like I said, it was for the best, but it was interesting.

When I drank, I was not afraid to be a part of group or open up to people. That is kind of the spirit of drinking anyway. If alcohol serves any purpose at all, it's social lubrication. You are fearless to go out there and be the worst version of yourself that you can possibly be. I could be the annoying life of the party. I just didn't notice that part because I was drunk.

The next myth was that I would become less creative and less likely to do things I wanted to do like stand-up comedy. For awhile, yes, I was less creative. My mind was swirling with questions and AA platitudes, and just the general struggle not to fall back into bad habits. So the creative side of me took a back seat to my mental hurricane. But as time went by, not drinking became normal and the creativity seemed to start working its way back to the front. This time though it was actual creativity. Not just a cynical way for me to vent about my own bitterness. When I would write when I was drunk I thought I was so deep and mysterious. Turns out, I just didn't make any sense. Being nonsensical doesn't make you deep and philosophical, it just makes you that person that says random shit sometimes.

I also didn't believe that without some sauce I would have nerve to go up on stage to do an open mic. Finally after encouragement from friends I decided to see what I could do. I put together the best 3 minutes of funny I could come up with, practice it like weirdo in my living room, and sign up for an open mic. I invited all my friends so at least someone would laugh if it wasn't funny and stressed about it for a week. Turns out, I am not bad at it. Certainly I have some work to do, but I can get laughs and not embarrass myself. Most importantly, I proved to myself that I don't need alcohol to do something terrifying.

The other myth was that you can still make friends without alcohol. This one has some grey area. Of course you can make friends without getting boozed up. Even the worst of the drinkers do that all the time. The case for me was that I really had less and less interest in making new friends. Of course if an awesome or interesting person came along and the chemistry was there, we would could start planning slumber parties and camping trips. The thing is though, you get to be a little more discerning about who is allowed in your comfort bubble. People are rife with issues and those issues need to be compatible with my issues because then we understand each other and can talk about other stuff. I value quality, and if the quality isn't there, I won't spend much time around you.

There were some old friends of mine that both figuratively and literally  I unfriended in this process. I don't mean to make it sound like everyone walked out on me. I did my fair share of walking too. I have never had a problem breaking up with friends though. I can make friends from strangers and strangers from friends fairly easily. They always wanted an explanation. I guess that is fair, but it seems like they should have taken a look at themselves in the process to find that answer. At least part of the answer. Most of them however chalked it up to me being an asshole and kept on keeping on.

Another myth is that your friends won't be supportive. You will be surprised. As long as you aren't trying to recruit someone like an Herbalife salesman, people are usually pretty cool with it. In fact, most people are so self absorbed they really don't even give a shit. A few people will always give you a hard time because they are idiots. It doesn't matter what you do, some people are just dicks.

Through this process, most people have supported me. I had one guy I knew, I don't even want to call him a friend even though Facebook did, that gave me shit via social media all the time. He liked to tease me and "see how long this will last" and say something shitty on anything I ever posted. This passed December, while driving drunk, he ran his truck off the road and into some utility poles. The woman riding with him didn't make it. Fuck that guy and fuck the people that shit on you when you try to do something awesome.

Here is a fact about not drinking. You are going to save a shit load of money. This is the easiest thing to wrap your head around because it is basic math. If you spend $200 per month on booze, that is $2400 a year. $2400 is a trip to Europe. $2400 is 22 years worth of Netflix. I was spending close to $20 per day on alcohol. That would include maintenance drinking during the week and some blow out on the weekends. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but that is the average.

No experience or night out was ever worth $7300 per year. Not when I could have used that same $7300 to go on a trip or give to charity or pay 2 high end  hookers to poke each other with spoons for a few hours.  Someone that is broke but holding a drink I will forever and ever think of as an asshole.

Here at the 4 year mark my life is dramatically better than it was. I feel good and trust myself. I am in love and happily married. I am even better equipped to not fuck it up. The friends I have are genuine and good people. I am a better example to my nieces and nephews. I am still funny, I am stronger, I am braver and quitting drinking was a huge factor in all of that. The thing I have pondered over recently though is was my drinking nature or nurture? If you have a topic you want confirmed, the right phrasing in google and you have found it. So I am not sure there is any clear scientific material out there that will give me an answer to this question. I just find myself wondering that if my environment had been different, would I have fallen so hard into the bottle? Or, was I born with a genetic issue that brought the bottle to me? In a small town it is sad and boring. The best way to cure sadness and boredom when you are a teenager is to get fucked up. So it started there. Then anywhere I went or any move I made, I seemed to drag a little of that sadness and boredom with me. If drinking wasn't a habit, surrounding myself with knuckleheads and troublemakers was a habit. Drinking was a way of life for the people I always found myself surrounded by. So I was in all these toxic situations and drinking. This led me to be depressed because of the situation which then led me to drink which then led me to be more depressed. In that cycle the only thing you can do is act depraved and feel sorry for yourself. So I wonder if I had made friends that had healthier relationships with the drink if I would have had a better relationship myself. If I wasn't part of a group that constantly turned everything up to 11, would I still have been that kind of drunk? Do I have some kind of demonic alcohol gene inside of me or was it something else? Maybe it was the fact that I had no self esteem, trauma, and a bitch attitude?

It seems like quitting was the catalyst that set into motion a series of events that would improve my life. When I started being more honest, life got simpler. When I started being realistic, my stress levels went down. When I cut out or lost people from my life, my relationship with others improved. When I stopped spending money in liquor stores and bars, my finances improved. When started holding myself accountable, I started to improve at things. When I realized I had some worth, I started to love and accept being loved.

So the last myth I uncovered is "Drinking is the root of all your problems".  False. Drinking was only an ingredient in my shit storm cocktail. For me the drinking was more of a symptom rather than the disease. I was in pain and depressed from trauma as a child before I ever drank. I was disenfranchised with religion because it was forced on me as a kid. I was mad at God because it seemed like everyone on his team were crazy assholes. I had low self esteem and problems with stability because we were poor and moved a lot when I was a kid. I don't have a relationship with my siblings because they are toxic shitheads not because I was drunk. I slept with lots of women because I didn't realize there were other ways to be a man. I fought people and said hurtful things because I knew that would keep people at a safe distance. I hurt people before they could hurt me.  Drinking was an unhealthy coping mechanism I used to numb myself, avoid reality, and interact with people I didn't want to be around in the first place. The things I did when I was drunk was to show off in hopes I would get back a little bit of validation from someone. All of those problems existed before, during, and after I was drinking. They didn't appear when I started drinking.

My point with all that is that if you decide you are going to quit drinking, or doing drugs, or whatever your vice is, just know that that part will keep busy, but it's most likely not the only thing you are going to have to figure out. In fact, if you could work backward, deal with those problems first, then your addiction would probably subside on it's own. I don't think that is possible so definitely start where ever you can.

I probably won't ever go back to drinking. I don't know this as fact because I cannot see the future but I certainly can't think of any good reason to do so. Alcohol never did me any favors. Like they say in AA, I just take it one day at a time. One time someone asked me if the world was ending tomorrow, would I drink one last time. My answer, "I have no idea." It doesn't work like that.

People paint it differently but in the end drinking or not drinking is just a choice you make over and over at very quick moments in time. From my experience, looking back, I didn't have it nearly as hard as other people. I am grateful for that. I am grateful that I stuck with it and continue to do so. Now I am not drinking because I don't want to, not because I can't. Yeah, alcoholism is a tricky disease, but loading up on SSRIs and Xanax is a slippery slope too. I don't trust extremes. The sweet spot is finding balance in the middle. Balance is that place where you know what you are capable of but trusting yourself to do the right thing. Everyday when I get up, I want to think that at the end of my day I will have been a good man and not done anything to set myself back. I am done talking about what I am going to do, how I am going to be, and what values will navigate me. Now those things are just part of my operating system.

If I can, I want to be one of the people out there that offers up what I have learned in the hopes that it will help someone else. Over 4 years of not drinking I have approached this in a lot of different ways. Today though, I can only tell you what I have learned this far. If you feel like you drink too much, if you think your life would be better without it, then try quitting. Do what you have to do. It won't be easy with or without meetings. Drinking is part of our societal norms. Sometimes the hard part is doing something not normal. The hardest thing for people to do is be honest with themselves and admit that they are not special. You aren't living out a rebellious life because you get drunk regularly. Everyone is doing that. Not drinking doesn't make you special either. Lots of people are sober. What quitting does is allow you to be normal without hangovers.

I want to be helpful where I can as long as I can be honest.

To everyone that has supported me in any way at all, thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. I did not go at making changes to my life alone. There were constantly people around to prop me up, encourage me, and applaud when I did well. It means the world to me. I know we should hang out more but you know the rest of that story.

To those that have forgiven me for my drunken antics and nonsense, thank you for allowing me that. To those that haven't, I hope one day you can, but I am going to move on.

To my wife:
You make everything easier or you make me stronger, either way, you are amazing.