There Used to be Hair There

My day started out with such promise. I woke up at 5:15 to meet my friend for an early morning workout and discuss some business.  Then I got myself ready and my dog and I headed to work.

On the way to work I caught the reflection of the back of my head in a mirror and it was soul crushing.  I know I’m going bald, but I didn’t realize it was as severe as it appeared today.  When I’m doing my hair I literally take pictures of the back of my head to see if I got the combover right.  So I know it’s happening, but I feel like the process sped up several years over the past 2 months.  So that set me in a bit of a tailspin, but I kept on moving along with my day.

I got to my office earlier than normal with the hopes of having an amazingly productive day.  I told myself I was going to make a shitload of sales calls and close several deals.  But then I had to deal with a shipment that came in.  I had to go through 500 packages of fucking fidget spinners to see how many were broken in transit from China.  Yes, I’m selling fidget spinners as a new item and yes it saddens me I’ve stooped so low.

After finding 50 broken spinners out of 500, I realized the instructions on the back were written in fucking Turkish.  Sometimes China is just gonna China you and that’s the way it is.

Once I finally got done with that time and energy drain I found out one of our warehouse employees incorrectly counted in several of our new items.  So back to the warehouse I went to correct the issue.  By the time I was done with all this menial bullshit it was 4 o’clock and I was pretty much over today. I felt defeated.

I felt myself wanting to freak out and take shit out on everyone around me.  I started to obsess over why my shirt didn’t feel like it fit me the same way it did 2 weeks ago.  I questioned my diet and told myself how shitty I looked.  I wanted to fight with my business partner because he was taking longer than I felt he should have to get me some information I needed.    Then I went back to worrying about how bald I’m getting again and prayed to the Gods of Propecia to start working soon. (more…)

And this is how I write

A friend of mine has been struggling with writer’s block and asked me about my writing process.  I never gave much thought to the mechanics of my writing.  Then as I was reading “Steal like an Artist,” I realized I do have a specific creative process.

  1. When an idea comes to me, I stop whatever I’m doing, open up the Notes App on my phone and write until I no longer have anything coming out of my head in a rapid fire manner.
  2. I would write by hand, but my handwriting is horrible and undecipherable.  Using my phone is my way of handwriting.  I feel a greater connection to my thoughts and feelings using Notes.  It’s almost a physical connection, I can feel myself purging what’s in my head.
  3. I let my ideas flow without judgment.  I don’t worry about grammar or spelling because that gets in the way of me capturing ideas freely.
  4. I Write all in one block.  No paragraphs.
  5. Once the words stop coming out easily, I stop and close the app.
  6.  I go back and add to it as things come to mind.
  7. I Email whatever I wrote to myself and post it into a draft on WordPress to work on later.
  8. I take that raw data in block form and try to create something usable out of my cluttered thoughts
  9. I post it to my blog, Medium or Facebook
  10. Repeat

I don’t like to write on my computer because it feels boring and robotic.  I look at a computer all day at work.  It lacks authenticity and shuts down my creativity.  The only purpose it serves for me is fine-tuning and posting the finished product.

So that’s it, that’s how I write

 

It’s Friday Night

Ahhhhh the games we play.  Well, the games I play may be more accurate.

It’s Friday night at exactly 11:11 for those superstitious types like myself.  I got home from work 2 hours ago and I’m laying in bed after finishing a book.

I was exhausted and hungry when I got home. All I wanted to do was shower, eat and have some alone time.  Normally Friday nights I have a visitor stop by for our weekly rendezvous.  I’ve been horny as fuck all week and was really hyping it up with dirty talk to her yesterday.  But when I left work I wasn’t feeling being around anyone or having sex tonight.

She asked about coming over and I gave my usual noncommittal response, “Text me later and we will see.”  She hates when I do that and I know it, so of course I love doing it.

I don’t want to put the effort in tonight, but I’m getting a little horny and bored now that I’m finished reading.   I’m feeling a little needy as well, seeing as how she hasn’t text me back yet asking if she can come over in about an hour.   Plus I took a preemptive Viagra and I don’t want it to go to waste.  Yes, I use performance enhancing meds, I’m not ashamed.

I snapped her a pic of me in bed and she responded “sex time?”   I replied by telling her I just finished reading a book and never answered her question.  I want her to work a little for this.  I get off on the control.

I’m trying to see how long I can keep this going until I fold.  I text her again asking if her her ass was clean.  She let me know she was fully prepared for tonight, anticipating she would see me.  I have to giver her credit for that.

I know I’m going to give in a few minutes because I want sex before it’s too late.  With my no sleepover policy it’s important to make sure I don’t let anyone come over later than midnight or they may get the wrong impression.  Once the deed is done, it’s my bedtime and they have to go.

Right now writing is my procrastination from having sex.  Which is odd because I normally procrastinate from writing by having sex with my hand.

It’s been 20 minutes now, it’s time to pull the trigger and tell her to come by.  I have to lay down extra sheets because she squirts like a fountain and it always turns into an awful mess ruining my bed.  I either have to change all my sheets or sleep on the couch after she stops by.

I’m not sure if this is how normal nights are supposed to go for someone my age. I guess now is not the time for judgement, reflection and deep soul searching.

Great….Another Dating App Post

 

My OCD now controls my use of dating apps.  I’m not talking interacting on dating apps, I mean the actual manner of how I use the apps.   There’s a process I have to stick to.

First, I only use the apps when I’m taking a shit.  I figure I’m stuck there for a couple of minutes, so I might as well make it me time and check out the dating world.  Occasionally I’ll still go on and swipe when I’m bored or I’m procrastinating at other times of the day.   But, It’s rare.  I do the majority of my dating work while sitting on the can.

Second, I must start out using Bumble.  I’m not sure why, but it’s what my brain tells me to do.  So I listen like a good little soldier.

I open the app and I hit the little blinky fucking diamond icon at the top right of the screen so I can see how many people swiped right for me.  There’s a preview that shows the number of possible matches you may have, but it doesn’t show you who they are.   The premium, paid version of bumble shows you who swiped right for you before you even come across them.  I don’t have bumble premium anymore because it depressed me too much.  I would go on and see all the monsters that swiped right for me and started to worry about my attractiveness.  I’m getting close to midlife crisis time and my ego is way to fucking fragile for that.  Plus it defeated the purpose of playing it like a game and I got bored quickly .

So anyway, I look at the number of possible matches then I start to swipe.  I’m incredibly OCD and need to swipe in batches of 10.  I can’t close the app or look at my matches until I hit a multiple of ten.  I count off each person one by one.  Sometimes, I’ll see how long I can keep swiping without matching in multiples of ten.  Those are usually really slow days in my life that I’m not proud of.

Third, I hit up tinder. I’m usually disgusted with what I see within 5-7 swipes.  I’m even more disgusted with myself that none of them found me attractive enough to match with me.  However, there’s times when I start off with 8-10 very attractive girls in their early twenties, which piques my interest.  I’ll swipe right vigorously on their pics.  I can feel myself making a pervy face and grunting when I do it.  After I don’t match with any of them In multiples of ten, I close the app, wipe my ass and go about my day.

You’re welcome dating world.

Don’t Pass to Me!

Growing up I never wanted the ball in my hand when the game was on the line.  I was too afraid to fail.  I liked being a part of the supporting cast, I never wanted to be a leader.  I wanted people to do the hard work for me.

I was afraid I would fuck up and people would see me in the same light I saw myself; a worthless failure who will never be good enough.  Fear of living made me want to die or go to jail so I wouldn’t have to face the reality of actually living life.  I was more afraid of living then I was of sitting in a jail cell having people make my decisions for me.

I never took responsibility for changing my own life, I just expected things to happen.  The problem was, for many years I got by that way.  I floated through life and things just happened for me.  Poor behavior reinforced by reward leads to more poor behavior and unrealistic expectations of life.

Thankfully, life caught up with me and I was fortunate enough to experience a lot of pain because of my choices.  I had to become accountable and make changes in my life.   I can’t stand to think how boring my life would’ve been if everything kept coming easy to me.  I would have no character, no experiences to share and no ability to overcome adversity when it struck.

Three years ago, my business partner and I had an idea to launch a discount business-to-consumer website for cell phone accessories.  I sourced the products, we got the site set up and in a few months we were finally ready to launch.  I expected to do a little advertising and sit back and watch the money pour in.  That wasn’t the case.

I spent 6 months or more casually playing with ads on Facebook expecting to rake in hundreds of thousands of dollars without having to do any real work. It’s absolutely insane to think that, but a part of me really thought it would happen.  My delusions of grandeur were quickly crushed and reality set in. (more…)

Modified Keto and Me

We all know carbs are fucking delicious.  Pizza, Swedish Fish, pasta; I want to rub them all over my body they’re so tasty. But I’m older and my body hates me when I start eating more than 50-100 carbs a day.  Most days I aim for less than 50, but I need a cheat day once every 10 days or so.

I thought my life would suck without carbs.  I figured I’d be starving all the time and miserable.  I mean, how often could I eat meat and nuts or chicken and avocado.  Turns out I can eat these meals way more than I thought without getting bored.

I love going out to eat and housing some delicious gourmet.  However, most of my meals I consume for fuel for my body, nothing more.  Consistently eating the same or similar meals actually makes eating for this purpose much easier and less time consuming.  Which is great for someone like me who’s short on time and indecisive.  Now, making decision about what to eat is no longer taking up space in my day that I can devote elsewhere.

There’s some obvious benefits to cutting carbs, most notably is fat loss. When you start a modified ketogenic diet, your body starts using ketones (fats) for energy instead of sugars.  You can peel off a lot of fat while maintaining lean muscle if you keep your protein and fat intake high.  Somewhere around 250-300g  of protein and 90-110g of fat for someone my size (215-220) seems to be a good starting point.  You can experiment by increasing or decreasing these macros depending on your body goals, but we will talk about that a little later.

It’s important to choose your fats wisely.  I stick to coconut oil, olive oil, whole eggs, avocado, cashews, walnuts, almonds, lean meats and occasionally some cheeses. (more…)

Context

As I walked out of my office to my car, I picked up my dog to put her in the backseat and I noticed someone had smacked into my rear bumper.  There was plastic on the ground from my headlight and my bumper was dented .  I walked around to in hopes of finding a note from the person who hit my unattended car.  I wasn’t shocked when when I didn’t find one.

Now I’m sitting at the auto body shop at 2:30 on a Thursday, waiting for the guy to come out of his meeting and give me an estimate.  I’m bored and annoyed because I have to be here dealing with this.  I had to come in here to do a bunch of shit I could have easily done over the phone with them.  My day could be filled with way more productive activities; who’s the asshole that decided this ridiculous process was worth anyone’s time?

Then it hit me. Why the fuck am I complaining about some first world problems?  My life’s real hard.  I’m getting an estimate for damage on my car when most people would be working.  My life allows me the freedom to take care of life’s annoying little inconveniences whenever I choose.  I make those decisions for me.

At face value, I should be super grateful and realize how fortunate I am to have the time and resources to take care of mishaps like this when they occur.  Others aren’t always that lucky.  My life’s a cakewalk in a lot of ways.

It’s all this kind of bullshit that so many people, including myself, allow to ruin our day or frustrate us.  But life happens, that’s just the way it is.  The sooner we learn that lesson and roll with the bullshit we’re dealt, the sooner we can get on with focusing on how great life is.

A couple of years ago I would have been pissed off and argued with the people at the shop for wasting my time.  Now I accept it and go about my day.  I’m not telling this to prove how mature and well balanced I am, because I’m certainly neither of those things.  I’m saying this to create perspective.

18 months ago I was laying in a hospital bed cut open from my sternum to my stomach, worrying if my cancer had spread.  Now im blessed enough to be here today being annoyed because I lost 20 minutes of my day.  Seems crazy to let this bother me when I frame the situation in that context.

Life’s bullshit will always get in our way, there’s no way around it.  Our problems scale depending on how severe they are and how capable we are of handling them.  The thing to remember is every problem is temporary, even the most serious ones.  Eventually circumstances will change and those problems will no longer be an issue.  Even the sickest person’s problems end once they pass on and become energy again.  That’s the cycle of life.

Stressing and being angry only robs any chance of happiness in the present and possibly the future depending on how we deal with it  Whatever it is, it will pass.  I forget all to often I had cancer 18 months ago.  Sometimes it’s nice to remind myself I’m going to die one day.  It forces me to live and experience all I can today.  That’s the purpose of life, to experience all that we can in the short time we have.  Good and bad, it all writes our story, it’s how life works.

The problem with weed is…..

It gives me all these creative ideas, but makes me too lazy to do anything with them.

When I’m high, I write down every idea in hopes of doing something with them later.  But once I’m sober, the ideas either seem horrible or they lose the creative spark needed to turn them into something tangible.

Trying to turn my thoughts into a post while I’m high is torture.  I can’t focus for more than 15 seconds, I lose track of what I’m writing about and I usually have food splattered all over my keyboard.  That’s pretty close to my normal writing routine, but it’s much more difficult while stoned.

When I’m showering high I come up with comedy routines.  I’m pretty sure my material is hilarious, at least in my head it is.   I can’t be certain that’s a true statement because I forget the whole routine by the time I’ve cleaned myself.  For obvious reasons, I can ‘t write my ideas down because I have no access to a pen or a computer in the shower.   So I have no way to prove any of this or test out my material.

How do so many funny people create great shit while they’re high?  This is the type of thing that keeps me up at night.  Surprisingly, I’m not high while writing this.  Although, it would make more sense if I was.

Pitfalls

It’s so obvious from the outside to see everything falling apart. I pick up on every little detail that will ultimately lead to someone’s demise when I stand back and take it all in.  That’s the easy part.  The hard part is recognizing those character flaws and ominous events in your own life leading to your world collapsing around you.

This weekend, I was watching the movie Legend, with Tom Hardy.  I’m fascinated with British gangster flix.  Every time I watch these movies, all I can think is I was born in the wrong era.  I’m stroking my own ego with these thoughts, but I was always a savvy and resourceful criminal.

I admire the characters meteoric rise to power, then loath the inevitable crash.  I can pinpoint when the characters are going to slip up before it ever happens.  I get emotionally involved and incredibly sad when I realize their fate.  I’ve literally cried at the end of Carlito’s Way, RIP Charlie.  For once I want to see the bad guy make it out unscathed and live a normal life.  I guess it’s wishful thinking for my life and I want some visual evidence to prove it really can happen.

It’s usually the same old story over and over when powerful people lose it all.  Ego and pride are the two main suspects which lead to their downfall.  They think of themselves as bigger than they are, untouchable. I’ve been there before and life certainly has humbled me. Thankfully not to the extent of my demise, I’ve been lucky in that regard.

All these pitfalls seem so obvious and avoidable from the outside.  If they had quit while they were ahead or made a compromise to keep from going to war, everything could have worked out.  But in my own life I often don’t recognize what’s going on until it’s too late and turning back doesn’t feel like an option.  Once I’ve lost control I tend to destroy whatever is good in my life before I regain my composure.

Some days I feel like a slave to my character flaws.  They keep me confined to a life of having to second guess everything I do.  I fear if I don’t, they will run wild and ruin me.  I’m a damaged person.  The only way I can keep my issues at bay is to constantly check myself on a daily basis, otherwise, I’m fucked.

Everyday I have to ground myself with gratitude and humbleness, which is really difficult for someone like me.  Most days I want to be an egocentric asshole and live in a fantasy world where I’m special and great. (more…)

No One Wants the Eggplant

Why the unsolicited Dick pic bro? And why am I the guy telling other guys this?  I’m a fucking moron when it comes to women.  I tell women upfront: I don’t do sleepovers, don’t expect to date me, and this probably wont end well; and even I know better than to send a random chick a dick pic.

What goes through a guys mind when he sees a chicks on IG or Snap and fires away an unwanted pic of his mighty member?  Does he think it will make her wet?  Like somehow, she will see his ugly, veiny dick and instantly want to fuck him.

I can’t imagine anyone ever has sent an unsolicited Dick pick to a chick and she was like, “you know what, this dude seems like he’s got it together.  Not to mention a great hog, I’m gonna bang him tonight.”  What the fuck bro?

I thought guys like me were the bottom of the barrel when it comes to tact and class.  Now I see there’s an heir to that throne.  I’m sure your lonely nights of jacking off to daydreams of the women you will never sleep with will keep feeding your fire to send your piece de resistance of cock pics.  Thinking if you just get the angle right this time, maybe she will fall in love.  Keep up he good work you desperate bastards.