Alone at Christmas

It’s a little after eleven in the morning on Christmas day. I’m sitting here, in an empty house, drinking coffee. Listening to a holiday music mix that I made on Spotify. It’s a bit of peace and relative quiet that I have been craving all holiday season. I can honestly say that I’m enjoying this rare sliver of relaxation.

And yet, deep down, there’s a pang of pain in my heart. The sadness of being alone. At Christmas.

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You see, while I have plenty of friends, coworkers, and family, there is no true replacement for having a special someone during the holidays. Honestly, there’s no true replacement for having a special someone any time during the year — but I feel the agony most during this time of year. The time of year when people take most for granted their families. The fret and stress for finding the perfect gift for their significant others and/or children. They even get bitter when they have to go through all of this supposed trouble. Yet, here I am, wishing I had someone special who wanted to spend the holidays with me. Instead of sitting in an empty house, drinking coffee, and listening to bittersweet melodies of Christmas past.

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I didn’t set up a tree this year. Not a single stocking was hung. There isn’t a wreath on my door. The gifts that I have received are still wrapped. To be honest, I’m not looking forward to opening them. Not because I don’t appreciate them. I truly do. But, doing it alone, with no one to share the joy with. Well, it feels as empty as the house I’m sitting in. 

The Heart of Ebenezer

“You are fettered,” said Scrooge, trembling. “Tell me why?”
“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.” — Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

The whole of Ebenezer Scrooge’s life changed in span of one evening. Years, decades, of a man’s pursuit for financial stability and steadfast business growth turned him into a callous of a human being. His heart and soul became so entrenched in the balancing of nickels and dimes for profit that it iced over to a hardened glacier. He had little use for people and even less for their holidays. Yet, in the span of a few hours in a fever pitched dream, his phantom conscience wrapped in chains paid him a visit and he finally had a second chance at life in the last chapter of it.

We are, in some form or fashion, an Ebenezer. The sheer act of self-perseveration requires us do whatever it takes to survive. Even the poorest among us places deep reverence in the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Subconsciously or not. They say that the best things in life are free, but you still need money to acquire the things it takes to live. Still, when we take that pursuit and let it consume us. When it goes far beyond self-preservation into the land of blind greed — that is when money becomes a root of evil. The golden calf was created by man, but the deity he created was a version of himself. We take portraits of dead politicians and put it on our currency. We allow the concept of monetary gain consume us — at times to the point where we let it control our relationships with others. We set aside people we care deeply about so we can amass wealth. And, in turn, we begin to lose sight on why we live in the first place.

Scrooge, in the end, had his second chance. It took a phantasmal wake up call, but he changed. On our ends, it often also takes an equally drastic event — may it be a car accident, a health scare, or the sudden loss of a loved one or friend, to wake us up and change our priorities. The thing of it is, we have always had the opportunity to switch gears. But without a climatic, possibly catastrophic circumstance, we allow our daily lives to blind us to these changes. Yet, it doesn’t have to be that way. All it takes is the force of will to alter the course of our lives. All is required is the same fortitude that you would put into, say, finding a new job or quitting a bad habit; you can use to start being benevolent to your fellow man. Turn the other cheek and forgive. Go out of your way to help a total stranger. In essence, un-Scrooge yourself. 

I leave you with a quote: “Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.” — Joan Didion. If you were to face the spector of your former mentor, what would you have to say to them? What would they have to say to you? If you were to take the three roads of Christmas past, present, and future, would you be pleased by the journeys? Or wake up covered in sweat and ready to change your life for the better? Or, even worse, suffer the fate of Marley and pass before you even have the chance to. 

The door to a better life is waiting fully open for you. I hope it doesn’t take a haunting for you to walk through it.

George Bailey

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“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful. Mary, I know what I’m gonna do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I’m shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world.” James Stewart as George Bailey — It’s a Wonderful Life

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George Bailey was the model person that everyone strived to be. He knew from the moment he was born what he thought his purpose in life was. If you were to ask him what he was going to do with this life, without batting an eye, he would tell you that he was going to be an engineer and a world traveler. Certainly not married or fathering any children. At first chance he was going to leave Bedford Falls and never look back. Not only that, but you could depend on George in a pinch to help you out — no matter what the problem was. He was mister go-to and reliable.

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Life, however, had an entirely different path for Mr. Bailey. His father’s business, the Building and Loan, he would inherit. His travels around the world, as fas as we’re aware, never happened. In fact, it appears that he never even leaves Bedford Falls. He not only gets married to someone he never thought he would marry, but has four kids and lives in a house he shunned growing up. In summary, it’s a complete 180 of everything he planned his life to be. And he doesn’t take the change in path lightly.

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Two of the things that makes It’s a Wonderful Life far ahead of it’s time is that it brings suicide and depression to the discussion table and it’s done in a non-patronizing manor. George Bailey, who suffers from severe depression throughout most of the movie, is not considered weak for feeling this way. In fact, most of the town regards him as one of the bravest people who has ever lived there. When he reaches the point of wanting to end his life, the whole town rallies together to come to his aid. Nobody tells him to “lighten up” or “stop being sad”. When he’s on the bridge, nobody drives by him yelling the word “jump”. Nobody calls him a failure; even though he feels like one.

The other big thing is that it shows the impact one person’s life has on others. One of the most crucial lines in the movie is given by his guardian angel, Clarence: “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” George Bailey witnesses, in full detail, what would happen if he had never been born in the first place. He sees just how much of a negative ripple effect he would leave if he took his own life. He finally has a chance to observe what an impact he has made. As Clarence put it: “You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life. Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?”

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If ever this timeless holiday classic was most pertinent, it’s now. “Hope” seems to be an increasingly rare commodity. We have elected a “warped, frustrated old man” who may very well turn America into a giant Pottersville. Multiple studies have shown a dramatic increase in depression in most age groups within the past decade. We are, for lack of a better term, suffering. This film, which just so happens to be celebrating it’s 70th anniversary this year, is just as poignant and reverent as the year it was released. 

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So, go watch It’s a Wonderful Life. If nothing else than to be reminded “Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.”

Trust.

Being lied to sucks. Being lied to to your face sucks even more. Being lied to your face, and finding out the actual truth perhaps an hour, at most, is infuriating. Which is a simple example of the pure truth of how fragile trust truly is. And why we cannot believe our own species.

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Humans are flawed. I am a perfect example of this. But, as defective as our species is, we create our own disasters. There is always a storm on the horizon; but, ten to one, it is of our own making. Humans create hurricanes and dwell within them. Not intentionally, mind you, but that doesn’t varnish the harsh truth of why we can never full live with our own race. What we seek out, we wish to destroy. Not immediately, but in the long run. History is a blatant illustration of this. Why? Because, in the long run, it is the perpetuant of change. Change being the constant formula for the perpetuant of our species.

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Yet, there is no excuse for the destuction of the fragility of assurance. When you lie, you break an expantant contract of honesty and bond with your fellow man. Plain and simple. When you deny someone the honest truth, you make them doubt, not only themselves, but what they know to be true. A white lie can lead to a pebble’s throw against the mirror of someone’s mirror of reality. A blatant stone of deception will cause someone to alter their perception of, not only who you are, but who they are. You break what they know to be true. A disrepair that may take years, if ever, to repair.

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So, as Shakespeare once said, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” Truth hurts. But not nearly as much as a lie. So why deny someone something so important as sincerity. When you lie, you damage two people: yourself and who you are lying to.

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In the end, when you lie to someone, you lie to y0urself, as well.

Bent Tines and Unexpected Roads.

At many times in your life, you will reach a fork in the road. Some times it’s expected. Some times it’s not. Although, even if it doesn’t feel like it, it will alway be a necessity. Forks only happen when a change needs to be made. When the option to continue on your path is no longer an option.

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It’s an easy argument to make that most humans fear change. Whether it’s latent or on the surface, the desire to keep on the known path from crib to coffin is almost universal. Even if it means staying in a bad situation — because even good change is unknown change. Yet, throughout the course of our lives, we see change as really the one true constant. Each, action, each decision, each move we take, creates a ripple in what was once a still pond. Well, the illusion of stillness, anyway.

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One side of the coin is that things don’t always go in our favor. We fail a test. We get dumped. We get fired. We stay at jobs we hate. Fires. Car accidents. Losing a pet. Losing a loved one. Each of these bent tines in the forks of our lives are a conduit for change. Is it painful to endure these things? Yes, of course. One could even argue that pain is but one of the compulsory experiences you will endure innumerable times in your life. Pain is real. Suffering is real. Tragedy is real. To deny them is to deny reality. But, just as in good times, bad times are not the be-all, end-all you will have in your life. The shadows prove the sunshine just as much as the sunshine creates the shadows.

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On the flip side is the unexpected roads. The serendipitous journeys we find ourselves on — at times on the spur of the moment. Opportunity lives here. Success lives here. Contentment lives here. These are the moments we cherish and share with others. You could say that there are many times when the unexpected roads we find ourselves on were really our purpose in life in disguise the entire time. The road you were meant to travel on was the one you stumbled upon and kept going.

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Whatever phase you are in in your life at this particular moment, it took a lot of change to get there. A lot of growth; and with that growing pains. A seemingly arbitrary avenue can transform into an advantageous passage if you embrace it. Plans change. Life changes. Everyone you know is not the person they once were. So, with each revision, learn and grow from it.

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And, as the great Yogi Berra once proclaimed, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

A House Divided...

“A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure, permantely, half slave and half free, I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it, and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it forward, till it shall become lawful in all the States, old as well as new — North as well as South.”

That speech was made by Abraham Lincoln on June 16th, 1858 when he accepted the Illinois Republican Party nomination for senator. Three years later, he would be elected President of the United States and the nation would, indeed, divide into the beginnings of the Civil War.

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We are, at present, a nation divided. Regardless of which of the top two candidates won the election, we would be a nation divided. We have once again reached a point in our history where the politics of both parties is so polarized that we cannot stand as one. Both Republicans and Democrats have reached a point where they will not, by their own moral standings, desire and pursue the ability to reach across the aisle and attempt to reunite the fractured elements of our vastly divided voters. We are, perhaps not physically, but idiologically at war with one another — and with ourselves.

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Yet, we have also reached a point in our history where extending the proverbial olive branch is of the utmost necessity. Pride, as they say, goes before the fall. Am I saying we blindly goose step behind our new commander-in-chief? No. But, then again, I would make that same argument, regardless of who gained office. Our Founding Fathers fought for our chance and choice to question those in power. The First Amendment covers everything from Freedom of Religion and Speech to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly and Freedom of Press. You don’t have to agree with what you find morally wrong — in fact, now is completely pertanent that we do stand by our moral compasses; but reducing each other to infantile name calling and denying each other their just opinions is how we lose. Brother need not turn against brother. Even in our deepest division since the Civil War, we can stand together. For change. For the future. Just because we disagree with one another gives us no right to shed the blood of one another.

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Hate begets hate. Regardless of which side of the political aisle you sit on, hate begets hate. You can be angry with the outcome of the election and still hold respect for those who voted differently than you. We are all human. We all have our own opinions. And belittling someone for being different from you is a slap in the face to figures such as Martin Luther King Jr. — who once said “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” You can agree to disagree without invalidating someone. You can say that someone is morally corrupt to the core — but if you destroy them with your words and treat them as less than human, you are no different than them.

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In closing, whether we like it or not, we are in the same boat together. The next four years will be telling, not how we are as a nation, but how we are as a human race. And only you get to decide what kind of human you really are.

13 Years.

Today, for all intents and purposes, was a normal day. Except that it wasn’t. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when my life changed completely. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when I lost my dad. Today marks the anniversary of when I watched him die.

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My dad, even though he was a former mountain climber, avid hiker, and developed a love of mountain biking in the final year of his life; had eleven different lung diseases. It was a brutal combination of genetics, working with asbestos and other toxins without a mask, and the fact that he smoked for 33 years. He had multiple inhalers that he used on a daily basis. One of them was an emergency inhaler. It was that particular inhaler he was going for when he had his fatal asthma attack. He was feet from the medicine that could have saved his life and he didn’t make it.

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The thing most people don’t know about my dad is that he wasn’t my biological father. Yet, he raised both my sister and I as if we were his kids. He was our father, even if it wasn’t by blood. I changed my last name officially in high school — even though I had been using it for most of my schooling years. My parents had celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary twenty days before he was suddenly taken from us. Fifteen life changing years.

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I still miss him. Not every day, like the first few years after he passed. But, randomly, my heart will twinge at a memory. Or a desire for me to share something with him. That desire still hasn’t left me and I know it never will. I still love him, even though I lost the sound of his voice and his laugh.For the first decade, this was the worst day of the year for me. Now there’s a bittersweet acceptance that life can change in an instant — and end even faster.

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Life is far too short. So tell the ones you love that you love them. Forgive someone now, before it’s too late. And never fail to say goodbye. Because you never know when the last time you’ll be able to say it will be.

The Hustle

Well. guess what. As I type this, I am now a full time writer. That's right, the dream has finally come true. And it too a whole lot of shit and work to get to this place.

I have this blog. Thank God that I do. This is where I can be the real me and not sugar coat anything. This is where I open up my heart and mind and let it all hang out. For good, bad, and truly ugly. This is where the honesty happens. So, count this as blog #1.

A few years back, LinkedIn invited me to try out their new service that would allow people to post blog posts. I was one of their inaugural members to take advantage of it. And it's still something that I still do to this day. So, count that as blog #2. Passive, but I still post and keep it active, from time to time.

And, now, less than a week ago, I started blog #3. https://medium.com/@gheamale This particular one is for the start-up (surprise!!! I have a new side gig. Then again, when don't I) http://sphere5.com And this particular one I'm stupid proud of. They (and I mean the founder and CEO) who loved my writing and asked me why I wasn't doing it full time. Why I wasn't doing it professionally. Two and a half months later I've edited one ebook and written another.

That's right. I've written a book. And you know what? I got a huge rush out of it. As I was pounding out words, I knew that it was going to be published and I would officially be an author. It was a high, brand new and I wanted more. I was hooked and couldn't stop. I wrote 90% of the book in two and a half hours - counting the research I was doing for it, as well. I was finally doing what I was put on this Earth to do and it was a rush unlike any other.

So, the new blog, Medium, I'm updating six days a week. With rest on Sunday. But...next month is November. Meaning NaNoWriMo. Which means I'm going to take another stab at being a fiction author. And, you know what, this time around, I think I got it. I have a wizard (non-metaphoical) that I've been cooking up for the better part of six months that I'm finally going to put to life. Give him an adventure.

Which clocks me in at three blogs and a novella by the end of the year. And I couldn't be happier.

Irreplaceable.

In an effort to purge Harvey  (see Purging Harvey 8/19/2016) tonight, I took a hot shower to try and nail down why I was feeling low. I'm certain a good portion of it is that the weather has taken a turn for the dark and dreary. But there's was something else, underlaying that I couldn't figure out until just now.

I have a genuine fear of being replaceable.

Which, in all honesty, I had no idea I had until just now. As far as phobias, go, it's 100% valid. For starters, we all die, and, thus, there will be a time when we just are no longer here. It's a phobia that those who struggle with depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies have in greater strength than those who don't suffer from those. It's also, in my opinion, one of the leading causes of addiction. We fear that we're going to be replaced by those we love, so we turn to substances that will never abandon us (using the "royal we" here).  I have also been in many a situation where I actually was replaced. Suddenly and completely. I've been fired, laid off, and had my heart broken quite a few times. There's been other things in my past that also validate this fear; but I'm not going to go into them right now.

Now that I got to the root of what was making me morose, I did something that immediately gave me a 180: I said the words "I'm not replaceable" out loud. It was like a boulder rolling off my shoulders. And it's also 100% valid.

There are plenty of people who are like me, but there's only one me. There's only one person on this Earth who has had all of my experiences. All of my dreams. All of my failures. All of my friends and family. Even all of my things. There has only been one me and there will always be one me. No one can take that from me. I may lose more jobs. I may lose more friends and love interests, but I will never lose me until I pass from this life.

I am irreplaceable. You are irreplaceable. Stop living life like someone can take your place. No one can and no one ever will.

Not Every Question Has An Answer

Sometimes, there will be events in your life that will unfold that you won't ever get an answer for. A sudden death in the family. Being fired from a job you spent the last 20 years working at. Earthquakes and other natural disasters. Even positive things like falling in love with a blind date or finding $20 on a park bench. The point of the matter is that sometimes, randomly, things just, well, happen. 

Change is the only constant we have in this life. We like to imagine that there's always some warning signs or things we can control how they unfold - but the fact of the matter is, sometimes fate is just that. Countless philosophers, teachers, scientists, and other learned individuals will spend years, sometimes their entire lives, finding justifications for these "acts of God". Yet, we all experience moments like these. 

Think about this: how many individuals out there are "accidents"? Meaning that their conceptions were completely unplanned. Now, an even more interesting question is how many of these "accidents" never should have happened in the first place? Ten to one, you know at least one person who shouldn't be here because one of the parents was sterile, on some form of birth control, or it was the wrong time of the month. Despite all pre-existing logic, the sperm met the egg and life began. 

Another unlikely, yet surprisingly common phenomenon are people who are just suddenly cured from cancer. They had gone through treatments that were stabilizing them without actually being the antidote - and then one day the person wakes up completely cancer free. A medical miracle that could last years, if not permanently. Occasionally, when this occurs, it makes the news, but not always. 

The point of the matter is this: as humans, it's engrained in us to find meaning in all things. Each quandary must have a solution. Each event must have a logical course of action leading up to it. "For every action, there's an opposite and equal reaction" (Newton's Third Law of Motion). To counterbalance all the chaos we see in the world, there must be some outward predisposition that led up to that point. Those who study history are the ones who spend their lives focused on searching for why were are at the point in time that we are at. We are always in pursuit of the "how" that led up to the "why".

Not every question has an answer and not every event in your life or the lives of those around you has to make sense. Sometimes things just are the way they are. What truly matters is how you approach it when it happens. Are you someone who will accept it for what it is and move on or are you someone who will be consumed by either changing the events or searching for meaning behind them. Are you someone who is going to let a random bad day turn into a bad month because you're incapable of letting go; or do you take advantage of the next dawn and turn it into a better day than the previous?

For it is how you face the questions that lead to how the answers come about. Are you going to be consumed by the things you cannot change or embrace the day for what it truly is: a chance to start again?

Purging Harvey

So, before I begin, this afternoon, I gave my depression the name Harvey. As in, the giant, invisible rabbit from the James Stewart movie. The name fits - as no one but me knows the full effect of Harvey. And no one hears Harvey but me. And, sometimes, many times, Harvey won't shut up.

The importance of this is that giving something a name gives you dominion over it. The first step a person does, psychologically, to place control over something is to name it. A nickname is a perfect example of this. People name their children and pets. I named my depression.

So, the reason I go into this is depression reared its ugly head this afternoon. I won't go into details, other than plans falling through unexpectedly and my brain taking hold of it and running hard with it. As my brain can be prone to do. Now, I will say that there were other factors involved  (especially with how stressful this week has been), but I was, unknowingly, prone for another episode. So, this one seemingly innocuous incident snowballed immediately mentally.

Now, instead of me discussing the topic further into detail, I'm going to go further into detail about me fighting it. What I'm doing when the struggle is truly real. Because, when it comes to depression (and, from what I understand about other mental illnesses) is that there's really only two options: defeating it or letting it defeat you. Again, there are days when the battle is lost before it even begins; when all you can do is ride out the storm. But even just struggling through it is a way of fighting it.

Now, each person has their own way of coping in a healthy manner. Mine is writing. I have found that, with depression, the analogy of "better out than in".  Which is what I am now passing on to you.

When sunny skies suddenly turn into a squall? Write.

When you've been faced with an overwhelming situation? Write.

When you get some bad news that comes out of nowhere? Write.

When you wake up in a funk and you have no idea why? Write.

No matter the reason, or even if there is one, the best way I have found to fight off the demon is to write.

Even if it's just screaming on a piece of paper or a Word document. No one says you have to keep what you put down. You just have to get it out so you can move on and move forward.

Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

“In order to attain the impossible, one must attempt the absurd.” -- Miguel de Cervantes.

"Alice: 'This is impossible.' The Mad Hatter: 'Only if you believe it is.'" -- Lewis Carroll (Alice In Wonderland)

We humans are far too often our own stumbling blocks. We hinder our own success based upon the limitations others put upon us; and the limitations we mentally put upon ourselves. Someone will tell us that a thing, regardless of what it is or the reason behind it, is unfathomable and we have the bizarre tendency to believe them. Most often, the limitations that hinder our own success isn't based on physics or the other terrestrial limitations of science; but solely based on the idea that a thing simply cannot be done. 

But, allow me to let you in on a little secret: Nothing is ever as impossible as it seems. 

A perfect example of this happened on July 20th,1969. Man, who had gazed upon the moon for eons and considered it far unreachable, step foot upon it. A celestial entity that had even been regarded as a deity now had human footprints on it. We conquered the span of the space itself and officially became aliens upon another piece of space rock. 

Why? Because we could. Because seven years prior, the American President told us that we should; "...not because they are easy, but because they are hard." Because we had reached a milestone in technological advancement that would allow us to break the walls of Earth's gravity and bridge the gap to our closest extraterrestrial neighbor. We did it simply because impossible was no longer a reason to stop us. 

Both personally and professionally, I have faced many an "impossible situation". When the chips were down and all odds were stacked against me, I have risen above, time and again. Why? Because I've honestly never been fond of the term impossible. Because I have the audacity to rise above, again and again. I don't like to be defeated and I do not allow myself to lay in the dust. Because I have the obstinate drive to rise and rise above. I view life the same way as the crew of the Apollo 11 viewed their mission: totally insane and worth every second. 

We as a species have taken flight. We have soared the heavens, both within our own atmosphere and far above it. We have sent satellites outside our own solar system. We have, even in centuries of old, viewed the heavens with our own eyes. Also, we have explored the depths beneath which we sail. We surpass every outrageous attempts at the limitations to which we bind ourselves in. 

Why? Simply put, because we can.

So, what impossible thing are you going to do today?

My Latest Discovery Upon the Path of Writing Certainty

Alright, my comrades, faithful friends, and those poor souls who suffer through the drudgery of my banal existence who stumble upon by most random of musings, I have news: I, yes, this guy, has come upon a typewriter.

Now, I realize I just lost you, but understand this: the typewriter, is but the Holy Grail and ultimate muse for those in the writing craft. It's like stumbling across the Sistine Chapel in its blank slate and being told "Have at it. Do what you do". The blank slate of all insane(ly brilliant) minds who have birth most, if not all, of the classics you were forced to read in high school. And, let me tell you, it's a thing of beauty.

It's manual. As Ernest Hemingway put is, you beat your heart and soul into this and a book or two comes out. You sacrifice your entire being and sanity and the most precious thing that will far outlive you will come forth. There's nothing taken for granted with this thing. It weighs like a brick. You beat all the buttons and have to physically push the bar back and forth. I have dreamt about such a masochistic piece of archaic machinery since...well, the writing bug struck me back in junior high. Since I broke out my Dad's old typewriter (which was electric, but still far from forgiving), started generating stories that were absolute rubbish, and enjoyed every facet and second of it. The sound. The smell. The effort into creating a masterpiece (which, my early works were anything but). And, above all else, the pounding of the keys. And now, waiting in an absolutely terrible second hand store, is the magnificent piece of machinery that shall become mine.

You see, while it's pen and paper that brought forth the founders of the curse, I mean blessing, of this craft that I have been born with, it was those who enslaved themselves to the beast that is the typewriter that were the ones that truly experiences the true beauty and brutality of this instrument of carnal reverence. The crafters of worlds both known and never made. Lives were birthed and died by the madmen (and women) who were possessed and did posses such a common and largely under-appreciated device.

Now, if it sounds like I'm "fan girling" (yes, it's a term, and yes, I'm using it appropriately) over this, understand something: typewriters aren't all that easy to find. Especially the manual ones. And, when you do stumble across them, they're bloody expense. I am crazy fortunate to not have either of these circumstances be the case. And, really, the fact that I seriously (not literally, though) stumbled across it makes me feel like it's a sign. Whether is actually is or not is not the question here. The point is that it is going to be mine and thus forth shall begin my cracked path towards becoming a truly published author. And, you best believe, I'm making copies upon copies before I submit anything. The last thing I need is for someone to steal the one copy I spent months, if not years, to create.

So, yes, while it is but the most mundane of news, words cannot express how genuinely pleased I am for this to enter my life.

Blurb From My First Book

"Arrested Development

Chapter One:

Everyone remembers where they were when Shane Murphy became an orphan. At 8:14 on the morning of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, James and Janet Murphy boarded United Airlines flight 175 heading home to Los Angeles. Forty-nine minutes later, they would lose their lives on live TV as their plane struck the south tower of the World Trade Center.  Three thousand miles away, on the set of Days of Our Lives, Shane watch his parents die."

Keep in mind, this is a work in progress. But here is the opening to my new book.

The Consequences of Hate.

So, this is the first chance that I've had to process what happened in Orlando over the weekend. 49 dead, multiple others wounded because a, for lack of a better word, man was so filled with hatred that he decided to walk into a crowded nightclub and purposefully take the lives of as many as he could.  I will also note that I have attempted this post multiple times, but with each start, I get crushed under the sheer weight of the tragedy. So, bear with me, here goes:

Now before I continue, I want to get something straight. This isn't a gun issue (although it is time to have a very honest conversation about automatic weapons in this country) and it's not a God issue (the shooter, last I heard, is Muslim with ties to ISIS. I'm not sure if that info is still correct). It is a 100% love verses hate issue. Let me break it down for you.

A person, regardless of whether or not they have guns and believe in a god will behave differently towards their fellow man if they are either A) loved or B) filled with hate. Now, if you think that I'm marginalizing the victims and the beliefs of the shooter, let me assure you that that is not the case at all.   What happened was a tragedy, pure and simple. The people in the club were not out to hurt anyone. They did not have an agenda. All they wanted to do was to celebrate. They were filled with love. The man who walked into the club with an assault rifle, a pistol, and a single agenda to kill as many people as he could was, without a doubt, filled with hate. He very well could have used a bomb.  It very well could have been a church. In this particular instance, however, it was some guns and a whole of of unsuspecting people who had no right to die.

Love doesn't walk into a club and open fire. Love doesn't fly planes into skyscrapers. Love doesn't burn crosses and hang innocent men, women, and children. Love doesn't blow up hospitals. Love doesn't murder children. Love doesn't starve people to death because they're not the same "tribe" as you. Love doesn't dismember and disfigure people. Love does not create orphans. Love does not torture animals. None of these are acts of love.

One of the most heart-wrenching things that I have read (and I'll share the link of the article below) was a CNN article on the "Eerie sounds of cell phones amid disaster". The piece recounts how the first responders came into a field of bodies and their phones going off from people trying to reach the dead in sheer, desperate hope that their loved one was still alive. That, that is love. The outpouring of support, not just locally with all the donated blood that went into attempts to save the victims, but outpouring of support from all over the world to show solidarity and unity towards the victims. That is love. Those who put their own prejudices aside and reached out to show that they care as well. That is love.

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." (1st John 4:18). The actions that happened last weekend were the acts of fear and hate. The perpetration of rage personified. As we mourn the dead, we must also learn from them. Embrace the fragility of life and create bonds with one another. Because the true message of the Orlando shooting shouldn't be that hate still exists, but that love still trumps it.

With this, I bid you adieu once again. Take care, my dear readers. May we cross paths again at least once more.

The CNN article: http://www.cnn.com/2013/01/28/health/cell-phones-death/index.html

The Misfit Toy

So, there's a certain Christmas special that plays every year that is called Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. The premise is that there's this reindeer who's born with a glowing red nose who is immediately shunned by his peers and his own father thinks he's a disgrace. There's also an elf who is shunned because he would rather be a dentist instead of a toymaker. They meet up, become instant friends, and run away from society because they know they'll never fit in there. Along the way, they meet a gold miner who couldn't find a nugget if he was standing on it and they wind up on the Island of Misfit Toys (which, by the way, is one of the songs). There's another song that is played that is called "Why Am I Such a Misfit". Anyway, the point of all this is that tonight, as I was taking a shower, is that I am essentially a misfit toy. Hear me out.

During all of my schooling years, I had friends in all the cliques. Some of my closest friends were cheerleaders and football players; as well as theater geeks and the goths. Nobody said I couldn't make friends with a certain group, so I made friends in all the groups. It was actually quite harmonious. I personally, in high school at least, leaned heavily towards the geekier side of things - I was a library aid and theater tech for three years and on the school newspaper for two. I also took German - not the cool languages of Spanish and French. It was also in high school when I picked up my affinity for science and started playing chess with my dad. And, even though I was invited to multiple parties, I never went to anything outside of the occasional school dance. I was, for lack a better description, very happily in my own shell.

In my early twenties, as I have mentioned many times, I lost my dad. I spiraled into a vast sucking pit of depression that lasted until, to be quite honest, I moved to Texas and started my life over from scratch.  Yes, I made friends during this period of time, but I wasn't me and I certainly wasn't whole. I was, and still am to some degree, a stain glass window that's missing a few pieces. While everyone else around me seems normal, I can't help but feel a bit broken. It's just who I am.

It goes further, as well. For someone who is a self professed geek, I enjoy watching sports and playing baseball. Two of my favorite series are Firefly and Harry Potter; but I get equally excited watching the Seattle Seahawks and the San Antonio Spurs.  I can go to a comic book convention and have a blast and then go to one of my favorite craft breweries and enjoy a great beer with friends.

It goes even deeper than that. I was raised in a Christian home and my dad hosted a Bible study throughout most of my childhood. I am a Christian, as well, solely because that was my decision and my parents wanted me to choose whatever path I sought out. I am even a licensed minister. But, some of the most profound teachings I have received throughout the past year or so has been from a close friend of mine who is Wiccan and studying Buddhism. The teachings he has shared with me have been of the Buddhist variety. So, while there's zero danger of me "switching sides" so to speak, the teaching of a different belief system has helped me grow in my own. To expand upon that, I have friends that cover pretty much the entire spectrum of faiths - everyone from atheists and pagans to a couple Jews and even a high school friend who's Muslim. Not to mention fellow Christians, as well.

Politically, I also don't fit. I grew up in a pretty conservative household, but I have noticed that, within the past year or so, that I have become a lot more moderate. This honestly has everything to do with the actions of those in the Republican party and how much it conflicts with my faith. To the point where I'm fully planning and have been advocating for a self described socialist Jew. Someone who is a far from the political spectrum as anyone I would have dared considered voting for growing up.

The point of this is that I don't fit in to any mold. I am, quite simply, who I am. And, most importantly, I have zero desire to change who I am to fit into someone's concept of who I should be. Because, at the end of the day, if you can't love a misfit toy for being what it is, you have no right to play with it.

Just Keep Living

On April 5th, 1996, Kurt Cobain, the lead singer of Nirvana passed away. His body, along with a suicide note and the shotgun that ended his life, were found with him in his home. On August 11th, 2014, Robin Williams, probably one of the funniest and prolific actors of our time, passed away. He was found strangled to death. What do these two events have in common? The cause of death - suicide.

Four days ago, the New York Times ran an article with the title of "U.S. Suicide Rate Surges to a 30-Year High". (I've posted the link below) It increased in nearly every age group; except for older adults. Women were hit the hardest by this - with a 63% jump in the age bracket between 45 and 64. Sixty-three percent. Think about it. "The increases were so widespread that they lifted the nation's suicide rate to 13 per 100,000 people, the highest since 1986." In 2014, it was the 10th leading cause of death in the United States. Which was more than AIDS.

There's a suicide in the USA every 13 minutes.

Why am I bringing this up? Because, even though we are fully in the 21st century, the topics of suicide, depression, and mental illness are still taboo topics that most people shy away from. If you bring up AIDS, cancer, even ebola and people will get up and arms and demand a cure. But, as soon as you mention depression and suicide and people seek to change the subject as quick as possible. There was a USA Today article (which I posted below) going into how, even though it theoretically 100% preventable, it is low in the nation's health industry's priority list. There is far more research and funding going into automobile deaths, which, for the record, is less than suicide, than there is self-inflicted death. We are in collective denial about one of our country's most serious problems that we face.

Yet this is one problem that will never be fully swept under the rug.

The good news is that there is a non-profit organization called To Write Love On Her Arms (again, link below) which has become incredibly popular within the last ten years. The organization's focus is present hope for people struggling with addiction, depression, self injury, and thoughts of suicide. The very first thing you'll see when you click on the website is the words "Hope is real. Help is real. Your story is important." They also have slogans such as "You are enough" and "No one else can play your part". In fact, they have even partnered with the Crisis Text Line to further help people from taking their own lives. They've become a voice to those who thought they did not have one.

There's also a growing trend in people getting semicolon tattoos. The significance behind it is those who have struggled with suicide, self harm, and addiction who are making the statement of "my story isn't over yet". Yes, there's a link below. I personally am planning on getting a semicolon tattoo sometime this year.

To wrap this up the best as I can, here's the number to the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255. If you are uncomfortable talking with someone, you can text START to 741-741 and go from there. There are people waiting to hear from you, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

The world is already a dark place. Don't be one less light shining in it.

Links:

https://afsp.org/about-suicide/suicide-statistics/

http://www.save.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=home.viewPage&page_id=705D5DF4-055B-F1EC-3F66462866FCB4E6

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/22/health/us-suicide-rate-surges-to-a-30-year-high.html?nlid=67235496&_r=0

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2014/10/09/suicide-mental-health-prevention-research/15276353/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/07/07/project-semicolon-tattoos_n_7745358.html

https://twloha.com

http://www.crisistextline.org

The "D" Word

I logged on to Facebook (a site I admittedly spend way too much time on) tonight and a friend of mine had shared an article called "10 Things to Keep in Mind When Loving a Highly Creative Person": http://iheartintelligence.com/2015/07/08/loving-a-highly-creative-person/ With me potentially dipping my toes back into the dating pool, I read and immediately shared the article. It's a short article and 100% spot on. Let me go into detail.

The very first thing listed was "their minds don't slow down". This struck a massive cord. I joke that my brain doesn't have an off button, but the reality is is that it is constantly going. Fast. In a thousand different directions. At the same time. Everything from quantum physics and far off planets to what the average breakfast was for someone living in the Roman Empire. How would dragons pull off flight to what was the subject of the Mona Lisa thinking about as she was being painted (she did have a smirk, you know). Or I'm thinking about work, and the things that are popping up on a daily basis. Problems and possible solutions. Actually, I spend much of my off time thinking about work. This new job is never without a new conundrum; but I digress.

The second one is that we are very cyclical. "The flow of creativity is cycle, full of highs and lows". This also struck a cord. One thing that I have noticed that sets me apart from others is that I have deeper emotions. I take rejection hard; even some that are rather minor. On the flip side, my laughter has been known to fill a room. I am passionate to a fault. And I can be somber - sometimes unexpectedly.  When I feel something, I feel it with all of me. By the way, number five goes into this, as well.

The third one is that we need time alone. This is big for me - and a big reason why I am reluctant to start dating again. I need my alone time. Desperately. Especially with how mentally demanding my new job is. As much as I love being around others - especially friends and family; I need to recharge. And the only way to do that is complete solitude. That's why I take walks. To sort my head out and to regroup so I can handle the rest of the world. I need peace and silence. Which is something that is not readily available in a relationship. When I need to be alone, I need it to be 100%. No other human contact. Even that special someone.

Number four is that we are intensely focused. When I'm working out a problem in my head, I've been told that I look extremely angry. I've even had bosses ask if I was okay, because of this. The fact of the matter is that I'm completely oblivious to what is happening around me. I'm entirely in my head and I'm trying to solve a stumbling block. The same goes for when I am having a conversation with someone. My full attention is on them and the topics at hand. That's why I find small talk awkward. I don't know how to do it. And when my brain slips into creativity mode - well, the rest of the world might as well not exist.

The sixth one is something that I didn't even think about until now. We speak in stories. It's true, though, and entirely done subconsciously. I am quite literally a storyteller - even when I'm not trying to be. It's just who I am and how I communicate. I guess that's why people enjoy talking with me.

The seventh and ninth ones are so beyond crucial: "They battle with themselves" and "they struggle with confidence". If there is one thing I need most for my future partner to understand is this (and the importance of alone time). I am, without a doubt, my own worst enemy. I am at war with myself far more than most people realize. When I doubt myself, I doubt hard. Personally, professionally, creativity, the whole gambit. When one little seed of self doubt takes route, it's impossible to stop it becoming a full tree. I have steamrolled my own success far more than all others combined. I fully acknowledge and struggle with the fact that I am the one holding me back.

But, the flip side of this coin is that (number eight) "intuition is important". I go with my gut and I run with it. I will trust my gut over anything else when it comes to decision making. Because I am so prone to overthinking things, if my intuition is telling me something, I listen and follow suit.

And the last one, which is lighthearted: "growing up is hard to do." "Creative people are almost always children at heart". You don't need any further example than Robin Williams. I know I am a big kid when I am able to be. It's also why kids love me - I still know how to play and can relate to their overwhelming imaginations. Sure, I can be mature, but I also take immense pleasure in simple things.


So, yes, this article is an excellent way to understand me better (if that is what you wish). I know that being such a creative person means that I am not going to be the easiest partner to be with - but I also know that because of these traits, it will be fully worth it.

Leveling Out

So, I want to share something that has been on my mind a lot over the past week: For the first time in a long time, I have stability. A Monday to Friday job, set hours, set pay, an awesome place with an awesome roommate, etc. For the first time in a long time, my life is able to become predictable.

Which, I'm not going to lie - it scares me.

Not that my life is leveling out, but because, in the back of my mind, I'm waiting for the shoe to drop. For life to blindside me and turn everything on its head. As much as I genuinely want to be happy and excited about this (which, don't get me wrong, I am), the possibility of things hitting the fan is something I can't push out of my brain.

If you think I'm being paranoid, there's a reason I'm having this knee jerk reaction: within the past five years I've lived in two different states, held numerous jobs, and have had multiple addresses. The past year alone I had about five jobs (one of which I was fired from unexpectedly), had a cancer scare, and was briefly homeless. I have gone through so much in such a small amount of time.

So the prospect of having a "normal" life is kinda freaking me out. In fact, the other day, I was making plans for the next six months and it felt alien to me to be doing it. That alone is something I haven't had the luxury of doing in a long time.

So, what does this mean? First off, I've begun writing again. I've had a character in the back of my mind and I'm giving him life at last. I don't have a title or even a plot, but so far I'm loving it. Second, part of the plans I am making is getting out of debt, getting my credit score up, and saving money. Maybe, God willing, start investing once again. And, third, I'm opening myself up to the possibility of dating once again.

It also means I am, finally, once again, at peace. Content. Able to smile. The trials and tribulations have only made me stronger. And I am more than willing to start living again.

The Blank Slate

The beautiful and most challenging thing about each post is that it begins with a blank page. Nothing but white and a blinking cursor prompting you to share your innermost thoughts and realities. It has no objective, holds no bias, and forms no opinion other than the one created by the writer who uses it.  It's simple, clean, and utterly daunting if you allow it to be.

Such is also every day. A day, regardless of how fantastic or nightmarish, is but 24 hours long. The sun creeps over the horizon, slowly glides towards its zenith, before descending and tucking back into the folds of darkness. All the events that occur within that span can be entirely independent or entwined with those that have preceded it in days, weeks, and months past. The entire basis of the consistency of our lives is but a continuous chain of these 24 hours of existences.

Your past? A sequence of days that have led up to your present moment. You have zero control now over the events of your past. You are no more chained to your past than you are to the sky. The future? Simply hasn't happened yet. The realm of possibilities is utterly endless. The only thing that your past and future have in common is that both are contained within the sands of time. 24 hours of experiences. The ones you have already have and the ones you will. It's as simple as that.

We humans tend to think of things as a narrow, linear path. The road from point A to point B and all the things that lie in-between. It's the writers, the artists, the philosophers, and the entrepreneurs who truly see just how malleable our lives really are. Mozart was competent with the keyboard and violin by age 5, whereas Stan Lee didn't release his first comic until he was almost 39. One of Edison's most famous quotes is "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work."; but a better quote by him was "Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up."

On the flip side, nothing is as simple as we pretend it to be. The "straight and narrow" is hardly straight and not always narrow. It's full of unforeseen dead ends, u-turns, and blinking red traffic lights. You can have a bad day in the middle of a great month and a few dodgy months in a pretty average year. Circumstances are never as permanent as we pretend that they are. The sun rises, and it also sets. The air is still until the wind blows. Bad days and good days come with equal ease.

Whenever a difficult situation arises, there are but two ways you can face them: as a stone or as a river. Certain times, it is necessary to be the stone - unmoving and relentless. Push through and persevere. In the immortal words of Winston Churchill "If you're going through hell, keep going." Other times, it is pertinent to be the river. Flow around your obstacles and adapt. Move on and move forward. It's not always easy to discern which you should choose to be; and sometimes it takes both to make progress and begin the next stage of life.

This blog is my life. Each entry, like each day, begins with a clean slate. Some entries are done in a matter of moments while others take several days to write. And, as with every entry and every day, there is a beginning, middle, and an end. So make the most of the slivers of time that you have been granted. For there will be a day when the blank slate becomes the last one you'll ever have.

The Two Second Difference

Tonight, I had a chance to do a good deed. Twice. And both times took but a fraction of a moment. Let me explain.

The first time, I was about to board a bus, when the girl in front of me tapped her card (we have cards here where you can load money on to them and travel by transit. It's bloody useful) and it said "Insufficient Funds". She tried explaining to the bus driver that she had loaded her card earlier that day; and he was about to boot her, when I pulled out my wallet and handed her the cash. She thanked me and I told her I had been in a similar spot before. We sat apart. End of story one.

The second time happened but ten minutes ago when I overheard a teenager who's waiting for the ferry (just as I am) call a sibling and tell them that he missed his boat (just as I did). I let him know that I'm already getting a cab and we can share it, so he's not stranded. Turns out he's getting off at a different stop as I am and he was able to get a ride. Problem solved. End of story two.

The point I'm trying to make is not to toot my own horn, but that both instances took less than a minute. The fraction of time it takes to make a difference is minimal, at best. Whether its holding the door for someone, letting a person with less items than you go first in line, or even sparing some change to a person you'll never see again. All it takes is just putting yourself out there and making a difference. Even a small one.

Now, both times, I expected nothing in return. Why should I? I don't gain, and that wasn't my motivation. In fact, both times, I didn't give my actions a second thought. Just as when I hold the door open for someone. A kind gesture is not a transaction. There's no exchanging of "karmic" goods. I've done many a good deed and had nothing good reciprocated in return. That's not why I do it. I do it because, if I were in their shoes, I would wish that someone would step up and take action. It's as simple as that.

The Golden Rule, as universal as it is, is far from common place. Most people think it takes a grand effort to make a grand difference. When, in all reality, all it takes is but minimal effort and time to chance someone else's reality.

The moral of the story is this: If you want to change the world, start small. Start in the moment. If you want to see kindness in others, be kindness yourself. Because in the end, we all die. It's how you live that truly matters.

The Slow Snowball of Success

We all dream of different things. One of my closest friends aspires to be a successful artist. Another close friend once wanted to be a professional makeup artist. I, as you know, aspire to be a published author. I've known people who have dreamt of becoming singers, police officers, video game designers, even stay-at-home parents. And, to be quite honest, I know quite a few people who "have no idea what they want to do when they grow up". But each dream is unique to each person. Even the ones who say they don't have one to begin with.

We think that there's some secret formula to success, but really it's a simple mathematical equation: The amount of effort put into the goal times the amount of time spent achieving said goal. If this sounds familiar, it is. Science. Newton's second law of motion: "The greater the force, the greater the acceleration in the direction of that force." (Force, by the way, is mass times acceleration) So, the more time and effort we spend on trying to achieve a goal (in this example, a career), the more likely we are to succeed at doing so. To break this down comprehensively, there's far more inertia in a speeding train than there is crawling snail.

Now, as with the science of motion and the in-exact science of life, there are unseen barriers and circumstances that stand in our way - and can derail us completely. This would be summed up in Newton's first ("A body in motion will remain in motion at constant velocity unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.") and third ("For every action, there's an opposite and equal reaction.") laws of motion. What goes done must eventually come up. What is going must eventually stop or alter course. In the example of careers, a promotion is a slight change in course; whereas a new job is a much greater change in course. Sometimes, many times actually, a complete alteration of the previous career path.

To use myself as an example, I have had many different sales and customer service jobs, but my current position has little customer interaction and zero sales. It's strictly an analytical position. Yet, writing, which is the career path I wish to do as a full time career eventually, is a complete opposite of both of those types of jobs. In fact, the one common denominator (the most important common denominator) is that they all effect the greater populace in one way or another. Influencing people, you could argue, is my biggest skill set. I have traveled down many different paths, but they all lead to the same road.

So, the question I leave you with is not "what is your dream?" but "what are you doing to achieve it?". What steps are you taking to reach it and what are you procrastinating on that is hindering you in your goal? Are you a locomotive or are you a tumbleweed? Because, let's be honest, the biggest boulder in the journey to your dreams is you.

The Fables We Live

"A story has no beginning or end; arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead." - Graham Greene (The End of the Affair, 1951)

We humans like to imagine that our lives are this one linear path; when the truth of the matter is that the points between life and death are hardly that. The grand selection of roads that we travel on during the journey from crib to coffin is staggering if you stop and think about it. Even the most boring individual has loved, laughed and mourned multiple times in their lives. Children have begat from two strangers who just so happen to be in the throws of passion. A slight mistake from one individual can lead to the demise of another. Relationships and careers begin and end and begin once again numerous times. Random excursions become daily routines and more random excursions occur to break the monotony of daily existence. 

Not all the roads we travel are highways and dead ends. Most of life lies somewhere in-between. 

I started this blog on a whim and its continued success and existence surprises even me. It helps that I have no agenda for it beyond just telling the story of my life as it occurs. I make no illusion of perfection and I try and be as honest about my shortcomings as I can be. I disclose much; but also refrain when the need arises. You could easily make the case that I write about everything and nothing at the same time - and be correct in doing so. And the full reason I continue on is simple: to tell my story.

You see, we as a species need stories just as much as we need food, water, and air. Whether it's in the form of a song, a play, a novel, or a painting; we need an escape from our realities and the ability to dive into others. In this modern age, we have the luxury of ebooks, blogs and vlogs, podcasts, and Netflix; but they all fulfill the same need.  it's fact or fiction matters not. Honestly, not even the quality of it matters (our "guilty pleasures"). But, nevertheless, as much as we need the stories that are told, we need those who tell them. I was born a storyteller and I honestly don't feel fulfilled unless I am telling one. My existence is but one speck of sand in a universe of beaches, but the fact that it's narrated draws others to it. And so, my story continues.

The point I'm trying to get at is that you don't have to be famous or a historical figure to have your story told. I have encouraged friends, family, and even strangers to start blogging. We all have facets of our existences that are fascinating to someone else. Lessons we have learned (or should) and mistakes that we overcome that someone else needs in their life. Storytelling is an integral part of the building of relationships and communities. And, let's be honest: it's what we need to keep us sane in this utterly chaotic world that we live in. And I can personally attest to how completely cathartic it is. To purge what is on my heart and dwelling in my mind is freeing - to say the very least. It keeps the demons at bay, helps me work out problems that seem too insurmountable, and even allow me to see the opportunities that are staring me in the face. 

So, long story short, we all have a story to tell. We all have lives that matter to others - even to individuals whom we may never meet. But, unless you tell your story, it remains with you until the very end. Because, even the most skilled biographer cannot truly tell your story for you.

The Only Thing That Changed Was Everything

So, first off, bear with me. I've been awake since five in the morning and have barely had a nap. So I'm going to make this as coherent as humanly possible. Bear with me. Also factor in that it's been a bit of a long week. I'll be going into further detail in this post.

In short, my life is once again in transition. When is it not is the real question. But, this particular transition is a solid good one. A future building (I hope) one. You see, I have a new career.

Now, before you roll your eyes and say "here we go again"; this one is truly a solid one. Why, you may ask yourself? Because it's not sales. Plain and simple. I have accepted a position as a Inventory Control Officer at a local hardware store. A Monday through Friday position. Early morning into early afternoon. Full time. Zero commute (which, if you recall, has been a serious issue).

Which lead me to put in my notice at Barnes and Noble. I'm not going to lie - it was much harder than I originally anticipated. Despite the struggles with the schedule, commute, and lack of hours and pay, I made fast friends there and loved being back in the literary environment. That doesn't mean I won't ever go back (in fact, I gave them a three week notice, not the standard two), it just means I will be a common consumer when I do.

Which also means that for the next few weeks I'll be juggling two jobs and working multi-week shifts. It may sound odd, but I kinda miss doing that. Sometimes I wonder if it's the insane work schedule that keeps me sane.

So, what does this mean for you, dear reader? Plenty, actually. Meaning, I'm going to start blogging regularly again. And writing other things. And getting published...

You see, one of my first goals of this year is to turn my blog posts into a book. A modern day memoir, if you will. Not just this blog, but also my first one, a few chosen from LinkedIn; and even some poetry that I posted on Facebook, once upon a time. The title is going to be "A Life Less Ordinary" (which, yes, is one of my posts on here - and I will include it). There will be a plethora of material, so, deciding what material is harder than expected (I've already begun the process). I have already decided to self publish (for now) and offer it as both a digital copy and a physical copy. Give the reader a choice as to the format they desire.

Speaking of writing, oh yes, there will be plenty of that happening.  I still have two NaNoWriMo projects I plan on finishing and starting the process of publishing. Plus, there's NaNoWriMo this coming November, as well. I'm using that to write the first book in my fantasy series. Seven books will be in there. And, most importantly, I still have the goal of writing the next Great American Novel. Especially since Harper Lee (To Kill A Mockingbird) passed today. No clue what that plot will be.

In summary, the only thing that has changed is everything. And, from what I can tell, it's all for the better. As my roommate summarized last night, this year will prove to be an epic one for me. But, it's in my hands to prove that to be true.

The Check Engine Light

About 48 or so hours ago, I was in pretty rough shape. A bug (I'm unsure if it was food poisoning or an actual virus) had brought me to my knees and I was violently ill. Twice. I'll spare you any further details; but I spent the vast majority of the following day flat on my back, sweating, sleeping, and feeling like I was dying. I was completely void of energy and entirely weak. Which, if have ever met me, you would know how much it takes for me to even sit for long periods of time.

So, in short, I was once again reminded of an irrefutable fact: I'm mortal.

Pair this with the health scare I had last year and the return of the spontaneous migraines and that means the little yellow light on my health's dashboard is starting to light up. And, believe it or not, I do actually listen to the cues my body gives me when something is up. I may not react in a timely fashion, but I do know when something starts to go wrong. For the most part, anyway.

Here's where the good news comes in: I'm going to be doing something about this. Many things, actually. The first is that I'm finally going to get back into my water regiment. Three liters a day is the goal. Second (and this will surprise more than a few of you) is that I'm going to start resting when I can. Letting my body and mind repair itself while I do nothing. It's going to be tough; but it's more than necessary. On the flip side, I'm also going to get back into biking and hiking. Soak up all the clean air in the woods and let the serenity of my environment envelope me. I may even get back into swimming (if I can find a pool).

And...I'm going to start going to the doctors. For check ups and maybe even blood work. Going to start taking my vitamins and medicine. I'm going to start treating my body like I'm only going to live once; and I need it to last as long as it can. I'm going to start taking care of myself and also letting others take care of me. As hard as that's going to be. I am nothing, if not stubborn...

I'm not old, by any means, but if I don't start taking care of myself, I never will be. And that is not a fate I chose to accept.

Breaking Through The Clouds

I had a bit of a occupational setback today. I won't go into details, but the second job I just got might not work out. I'll leave it at that.

I'm not going to lie - I'm pretty bummed about this. In fact, I was at my normal job when the tendrils of depression started to sink in. But, before they could really take hold, a voice told me something I needed to hear: "You're stronger than this."

I am. I've struggled with depression; but I'm stronger than it. As many times as I've felt utterly and completely defeated, I'm not. As my dear friend Chris has reminded me in the past, I've overcome so much more than my brain tells me that I have.

Everyone has setbacks. That's life. Everyone struggles from time to time. It is what it is. But, you're bigger than that. Stronger than that. It might not feel like it. I can attest that it definitely doesn't feel that way; but you are. So, instead of accepting defeat, shortcomings, depression, and the dark thoughts in the night - prove to them just how wrong they are.

Because, in the end, you are your own worst enemy. But you can also be your own best friend.

Ground Control To Major Tom

Fate is a funny term. We get all wrapped up in what we suppose is our destiny without taking into accord our day-to-day existence. We think there's this grandiose plan that will...just happen; and suddenly our lives will be complete and make sense. Which, let me assure you, couldn't be further from the truth. I'm not saying that fate doesn't exist - I'm just letting you know from full experience it doesn't exactly happen over night. And there's a lucky 1% of the population that knows what their fate is. Everyone is, quite honestly, grasping at straws. At best.

I titled this post after the David Bowie song Space Oddity for a reason. There's a film out there call The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. It came out in 2013 and stars Ben Stiller (in a very serious role) and Kristen Wiig. This is also probably one of my favorite films of the last five years. The whole premise is about a guy who works at Life magazine who basically doesn't have a life of his own and has this...situation (if you will) which forces him out of his shell and makes him see the world. Wikipedia calls it a "romantic comedy-drama adventure fantasy film"; which I think is an appropriate label for it. Any way, throughout the film, the song Space Oddity by the recently departed David Bowie plays in the background. I won't tell you anything further about the film because I want you to see it. I promise you it's incredibly uplifting.

There's another film along the same vein called Stranger Than Fiction (which is another one of my favorite films). This one came out in 2006 and stars Will Ferrell (in a serious role - that he nails), Emma Thompson, and Dustin Hoffman. IMDb described it as "An IRS auditor suddenly finds himself the subject of a narration that only he can hear: narration that begins to affect his entire life, from his work, to his love-interest, to his death." The last part is both crucial and doesn't really give anything away. But, as with Secret Life, I don't want to go into any more detail because I feel you should watch both.

Both films touch on the theme of main characters who are (somewhat) blissfully going about their lives until there's an external extenuating circumstance that forces them to take chances and changes their lives for the better. Basically, life forces them to start living. Neither one breaks out of their shell easily - which is rather realistic. People don't handle change well. Humans would much rather dwell within their cocoon of perceived reality without much variation to their daily existence. Enough to keep things interesting, but that's about it. And somehow, some way, fate magically just happens and we die fulfilled. That's not living, though. Not by a long shot. We're supposed to take leaps of faith. We're supposed to step out of our comfort zones. We're supposed to take chances - especially the ones we don't have a remote clue in the outcome of. That's how we grow as people. That's how we truly learn who we are and why we're here. Faith is built on the unknown and undiscovered. We're not meant to crawl to our graves - we're suppose to soar to great heights before reaching them. And the only way that can happen is if we let go and just trust that things will work out.

Robin Sharma once stated "Don't live the same year 75 times in a row and call it a life." I'm going to take it a step further and say "Don't live the same 365 days in a row and call it a year." You don't have to do one thing every day that scares you; but you do have to do at least one thing every day that is different. And, seriously, go out and live!! We're promised one life - why waste it?