Breathe... You're Doing Just Fine

I want you to know that nothing is wrong with you. I know, I know, this sounds cliche and trite and like I'm patting the top of your head while telling you all the things you want to hear. No, that's not where I'm coming from. I need you to know and I need myself to know that there is nothing wrong with you/me. We're fucking fine. Do you hear me? We're fine.

I want you to know that you can try to be better, you can work hard, you can do all the things you think you need to do, but none of that will do anything to prove to you that you are worth your space in this world. The only person that can decide that is you.

You.

You decide how much space you get to take up. You decide how much your voice is worth. You can work yourself ragged and accrue everything you ever thought you needed, but if you don't believe who you are underneath the glitz, nothing will matter. A fevered mind has a funny way of turning gold into dust.

I want you to know that there's nothing to prove, that even if you do all the things that you or someone else told you that you couldn't do, there will be no glory in it. There is no glory in living a life in search of undoing a feeling.

You have a core belief in yourself that you are not worthy, that you are not lovable, that you are not good enough? There is no manner of things you can achieve, people you can impress, people who will love you in order to convince you of a thing you can't believe in yourself. You can't turn a sour belief sweet just by outrunning it forever.

I want you to know that you can't outrun your life, your emotions, those little beliefs that feel tiny enough to overlook, but fester over time. Inconsequential negative beliefs have a way of turning into hugely damaging beliefs.

Believe me, I've lived in search of the magic elixir which will turn my emotions into something else, something better, my life into something shinier. I've searched everywhere, but the only real magic elixir is reckoning with yourself, is taking the responsibility, is demanding that the only person who can save you is you. It's you. It's you. You're the savior. You're the one you've been looking for.

I want you to know that you will never be enough if all you're looking to be is enough. You need to forget about enough and look beyond it to something else entirely, something that can be measured. Enoughness can't be measured. You are only as enough as you are better than someone else and that's a slippery slope to wage your life on. Not being enough needs participation from others  --  because it's always comparison.

That's always where it begins and ends  --  this incessant need to weigh the value of your life against another person's. Are you more than another? Less than another? You don't really want to be adequate, good enough. No. What you're searching for is to be special, to be better than others. And, that's a losing game even if you think you've won.

I want you to know that if you need to feel loved, please look around at your life and see the magic everywhere. You may not have a thousand friends or a perfect family, but you have your people and they matter, even if the number of those you can count on is in the single-digits. Don't throw that away looking for more. I know it seems like admiration, fame, social validation make you feel the love you may not feel for yourself, but it's so fleeting it's dangerous to stake anything on.

Attention is not love.

Double-taps are not reminders of your adequacy.
Favorites, likes, followers are not an indictment of your value, no matter how big or small the number reaches or falls.

If you've found yourself entirely too consumed with the digital trail of admirers you do or don't have, you need to remind yourself that you are valuable, as you are, with nothing or no one paying attention. Your value exists without condition.

I want you to know that strength is not what you think it is, what the world has told you it is. Strength is not your loud voice, your angry rally cries. Strength is in keeping a positive heart in a negative world, a sensitive soul in a cruel world that often feels beyond the realm of soulless. There is a strength in not letting this world swallow you and spit you out as someone who thinks preaching their opinion off the highest mountain is what brave people do.

Courage is listening when your knuckles are going white from clenching down on the arms of your chair. Courage is respect and not letting any number of heartbreaks sour you from believing that there is good, there is love, there is something in this mad world to have hope for.

I want you to know that, within you, lies something integral to this world. You're a puzzle piece that fits into the grander framework of humanity. Today is a whole new day and you can turn it all around in one quick decision to do something, anything different than how you've done it before. Change comes slowly and then all at once. You will think you're going down the long tunnel of darkness until it happens, until you're renewed.

Trust that it's coming. Trust that something bigger is forming. Trust your tender heart. Trust your wild ideas. Take the chance. Say no when it doesn't light you up. Follow whatever within you tells you that you're doing something that makes you come alive.

I want you to know that the only waste here would for you to sleep through your life. The only thing you could do wrong is to opt-out of who you are, to forgo whatever fights to come out of you. Because, something does fight within you to be said, to be done -- no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential you think it is.

You can change a heart in the most ordinary gesture. Don't let this world harden you until all you see is what's going wrong, what's bad. Because, the thing no one tells you is that there is as much good as there is bad. As much darkness as there is light. It simply depends on where you focus your eyes.

What Goes Through My Mind Everytime I Get Frozen Yogurt

Here we are. Orange Leaf. Or is it Red Mango? Maybe…16 Handles? How about GitchiGitchiYogurtDaDa? I don’t know why they give these places different names, they’re all exactly the same. Might as well just call ‘em “Would I Get Arrested If Held My Head Under The Spout and Let the Yogurt Flow Into My Mouth Like a River?” because that’s all we’re thinking every time we’re there. But not now. Not today. Today I’m going to act with dignity! Just because yogurt places have such audacity and utter disregard for our health to give us control of the levers, that doesn’t mean I have to be a pig. I’m NOT a pig. I’m an animal, but not a pig. How about a cow? Hippo. NO! WAIT! A water buffalo. I am the majestic water buffalo of frozen yogurt! Proud, stately, patient and resolute in even the most frantic of circumstances–OH MY GOD THEY HAVE MINT CHOCOLATE! Get the heck out of the way people!

OK. Try to calm down. Plenty of froyo for everyone. Let’s go over the rules one more time. #1: We’re not spending over $5. Actually, $6. OK, not a penny over $6.75, and that is the absolute max. Probably. Plus toppings. Rule #2: No yogurt or add-ons will eclipse the mouth of the yogurt cup. For health and for decency. Thankfully, the cup is the size of a bathtub. Honestly, the Titanic couldn’t hold as much fresh strawberry soft-serve as this bad boy can. Rule #3: There will be no touching, tasting, or sniffing of dessert items once they are inside my bowl. These aren’t the lawless lands of the Whole Foods salad bar. It’s a mecca for frozen treats, and I will behave accordingly. Rule #4: If you tell yourself you’ll “share” with someone all previous rules are null and void. And yes, giving them two bites and letting them drink the melty soup at the bottom counts as sharing. Well, I’ve been here 20 seconds. Time for a sample…

Come on, do I really have to ask for the free sample cup? It’s so degrading. Look, Yogurt Jockey, you know I want a free sample, I know I want a free sample, and we both know once I get my cup I’m going to abuse the privilege to a humiliating extent, so why go through the charade? Instead of “Could I have a sample cup,” how about we just be honest and ask “Is it cool if I steal small quantities of yogurt from you over and over, right before your eyes? Really, it is? Thanks!”…

Oh wow. Look at that guy! He’s a machine! Sample, lick, sample, lick, sample, lick – without the tiniest bit of shame. He’s like a froyo terminator. I don’t know whether to scoff or bow down and make him my God. He’s even tasting Kiwi Lime Tart! Nobody tastes Kiwi Lime Tart. It’s just there to make us feel like we’re in a healthy environment so we can take two pounds of Hazelnut goo without hating ourselv––Uh oh, the employees see him! They’re coming over!!! Scatter! Everybody scatter!!!…

Really, flavors? Cheesecake, Vanilla, Vanilla Cake, Tart, AND White Chocolate? You realize those all just taste like “white,” right? And how many variations on chocolate are necessary? Chocolate. Dark Chocolate. Dutch Chocolate. Chocolate Brownie. Chocolate Fudge with Sea Salt. What is Dutch Chocolate anyway? Chocolate that tastes like it’s been wearing clogs? No thanks…

Uh oh. Cup’s getting really full. It’s because the machine squirts too fast. Honestly, it really is! Right, guys? Aaaaand it looks like I have seven different flavors already. That’s what grownups do, right?…

Alright, time to hit topping town. Where we separate the men from the boys. Or in my case, the men from the boys who are about to get sick from eating too much yogurt. This is where the pay-by-weight really gets ya. If you’re an amateur, you load up on brownie bites, which taste like cardboard and weigh more than an airplane. Heavy fruit, whole nuts, Reese’s peanut butter cups – same problem. I like to toss a few raspberries on mine, because they’re lightweight, and they’re the one thing that allows me to retain the illusion that this is a nutritious dessert. Oh God, look at those people. Exploding Boba Balls on cookies ‘n cream? Sickening. Does anyone actually know what Boba is? It’s lightly sweetened nuclear waste,  NO THANKS!!!!

Come on, really? Peanut M&M’s?! Don’t you know they’re the heaviest candy on here?! Why don’t you just add tiny rocks to your pay-by-weight bowl? Or, I don’t know, maybe fill it with cement. Although I think peanut M&Ms would set off my yogurt melange nicely. OK FINE! I’ll have a couple!…

As long as my cup costs less than Crazy Sample Guy, I can live with myself. I don’t mind being a glutton, as long as I’m not the biggest glutton in this line. Because the Yogurt Jockeys always act like they ring up $7 tubs everyday, but you know in the back of their mind they’re mocking you. OK, it’s tiny hot girl’s turn at the register. Really? $2.27?! What’s her cup filled with, six skittles and a splash of water?  Here’s Crazy Sample Guy. Look at the thing. It looks like it’s gonna tip over. I’m surprised he didn’t find a way to jam a few baguettes and a country ham in there. Here comes the weigh in and….$9.95!!! We did it everybody! There’s no way we’re going over $9.95! I bet this is what it feels like to win the Super Bowl! I’m going to Disneyland, and I’m taking yogurt with me! But before I do, hit me with a few of those brownie bites! Daddy’s celebrating! Yippee!

9 Steps Towards Becoming A Successful Writer

Lately, I have been receiving numerous questions pertaining to the “how to” of the writing world. So I figured why not address this topic in a blog post?

Keep in mind, this is just what has worked for me and my style ofwriting . There are many other ways to deem a writing style as “successful.”

1. Read, read, read. Read sites such as the Huffington post, read magazines, news, whatever you can to get a sense of what others write about and how they tackle it. Read newspapers to keep up on current events and generate ideas. Read books simply to learn new words and keep your mind spinning.

2. Mimic what works for others. No, I am not telling you to plagiarize. Just observe the style and voice of other writers and adapt that to your own topic. There is a reason certain people are successful, so why not learn from them?

3. Appeal to a collective audience. I work really hard to eliminate using “I” in my writings unless it is a story about a personal experience. And even then, I try to draw the audience into it by making it widely relatable. The truth is that people just don’t want to read about you. You’re not that interesting unless you can give them something to take away from your writing.

4. Write about what you know. For example, I write about society, dating, college life, etc. I do not write about politics, science, or medical conditions because to be honest, I would sound like an idiot and lose credibility.

5. Be persistent. This is huge when trying to get your work published somewhere other than your own blog. I submitted to Time Magazine multiple times before being published. And even after that, I had to keep submitting before I finally connected with an editor who I’ve been working with consistently. As for Music Magazine, I literally Googled and stalked the editors of each section and emailed them individually about contributing. The one editor finally responded to me, and that opened the door to being able to submit articles on any topic.

6. Reread and pay attention to grammar. Never, ever submit something without taking multiple reads through it. You will catch so many things you missed the first time around.

7. Engage with your audience. Even though sometimes I wish I didn’t, I read the comments in multiple emails and respond to people and their questions. I answer all the reader emails that I receive. People are more likely to keep reading your work if they feel like you care. Remember, readers make or break your success. Take time to thank them.

8. Don’t hold back. Being a writer takes a certain kind of person. You have to be willing to put your own experiences out there, to approach awkward situations with humor and serious situations with a level tone. There will always be readers who feel the need to comment and express their disagreement, or flat out hatred of how you approached something. You have to brush them off and think of all the readers who appreciate what you do and say.

9. Experiment. Find out what styles work for you and what styles don’t. If something you post gets zero interaction or acknowledgment, there is probably a reason. Learn from it.

I’m sure many other writers have various advice as to how to get a foot in the door, but this is what I have learned since my entrance into the writing world.  As always, email me with questions/comments!

Falling Elegantly

I was cleaning out a closet and I came across a writing assignment I did in college dated Oct 23rd 2012. I feel I must share it. It was titled "Falling Elegantly."

Our Assignment: Choose a spot outside. Do nothing for ten minutes. Write about it. 

Perspective. It all comes down to perspective.

Twenty of us doing this same class exercise, yet twenty of us will have completely different experiences. I am plopped on the slanted ground, doing my best to remain balanced in one spot. This may not be the most logical spot to sit, but it was calling my name all the same. I have the vantage point from here. I know there are nineteen other people in close proximity, yet I cannot see one. As far as I am concerned, I am alone.

And I like it that way. I’m not an introvert per se, but I am not an extrovert either. I am the in-between, as with many things in my life. I don’t have to fit squarely into one category. Maybe some people do, but I’m not one of them. I never have been.

The breeze picks up, and one, two, three, four leaves land on me. I almost reconsider forgoing the sweater, but then I remember: I like the in-between of fall. Not hot, not cold. It forces me to feel, but not to an extreme.

It’s somewhere in the middle, just as I am. It doesn’t signify new beginnings, but rather beautiful endings. I have a thing for beautiful endings, and fall does beautiful endings the right way. The beauty is evident and obvious as the leaves shift and eventually float to the ground with an air of elegance.

In real life it isn’t that simple. More often than not, the beauty of an ending is only evident long after the initial shock, the trauma. Shedding layers of ourselves seems more painful than a tree shedding leaves. We don’t always float elegantly to the ground. More often than not we are picked up and slammed into it face-first, forcefully, immediately. There is no soft landing.

But as we observe year after year, the beauty returns. It returns after a seemingly never-ending winter, during which the trees are bare, exposed to the elements. Then slowly, winter gives way and they begin to bud, hesitantly at first, and then all at once. Color returns to the world, and that idea that it was barren and empty only days earlier seems ludicrous.

Perspective.

My flow of thought is interrupted by a shrill squeak. I look up and unknowingly enter a staring stand-off with a squirrel. He is suspended almost upside down, clinging to the bark, inching slowly downward. For every inch, he adds a small squeak, as if to announce his presence, to warn me. After two minutes of this, I begin squeaking back. He was asking for it. In turn I receive an inquisitive glance, and I look away. One second later, and the squirrel is gone. Vanished.

Appropriate timing, since right then a high whistle makes its way to me, signaling that it is time to switch places. My classmates gradually begin to emerge from their own spaces, and retreat to new ones. I follow suit, but move only a stone’s throw from where I previously sat. But now, instead of being surrounded by no one, I am surrounded by hundreds of people. Alfred, Gerard, Edward, Aloysius. People who are six feet under, but still – people.

Again, perspective.

A gravestone is dated 1803-1869 and it hits me – as much as I’d like to think this is my place, it isn’t. So many people have been here before me, breathed this air, watched these trees shed parts of themselves. So many others have loved this place and this season – enough so to spend eternity here.

Hundreds of bodies surround me, all with their own story, their own successes, their own struggles. But I don’t know any more than their name, their birth and death date. I don’t know if they slammed face-first or fell elegantly. Their lives exist in that small dash, a dash between the years that is barely even visible anymore, but that I know exists.

Perspective.

The world is so much bigger than me, bigger than my problems. Millions of people have suffered through life, while millions of others have paved an incredible path. Millions have fallen off the tree and face-planted forcefully with no hope, while others have fallen elegantly, with faith that they will be given another chance. They know they will see the beauty in the ending when the time comes.

I’m going to make my fall an elegant one.

Perspective. It all comes down to perspective.

So try it, choose a spot outside. Do nothing for ten minutes. Write about it. 

Why You Must Let Yourself Rebel Against This World

As my 27th birthday looms, I find that all my thoughts are consumed with Things I Wish People Had Told Me In My Teens and early Twenties. When I was a teenager, the internet was a different place. I had AOL and I created profiles, chatted with strangers, and used vague song lyrics as away messages. But, the world was still locked away. I think about all the parts of me I would have revealed had I known it was okay to do so, had I ever been exposed to someone who was similar to me.

I felt very alone when I was a teenager, isolated and frustrated that I felt so different. I learned to hide who I was, to become likable and acceptable, to base my self-esteem on the approval of others. I had no idea that I could simply change my thoughts in order to accept myself. I thought there was one way to be and I wasn’t it until I fixed myself to be it. Years later and I’m still trying to shake off the belief that I am broken, that I am not measuring up in some way. With or without the internet, I think everyone goes through this, but I have seen my entire worldview change as I’ve been exposed to people—if only digitally—who are so unabashedly themselves, even when who they are is not socially accepted. Hailing from an affluent, mostly white suburb in Colorado, conformity was of utmost importance and—while I managed to break free from the sameness—it still was an environment where difference was not appreciated.

I’m not writing this to blame anyone or anything. I take responsibility for how I feel and how I process anything from my past. It simply helps to unpack it, to follow the threads and watch them unspool as I tug, tug, tug at each one. 

I wish someone would have told me that it’s okay to let free whoever I really am. I’ve come to realize that the worst case scenario in life isn’t to be rejected by others, but to reject yourself. A life spent denying all the parts of you—no matter how insignificant they may seem—is a life that is too unfulfilling to bear. There is no glory, no reward for following the set path, for being invited into the largest majority where nothing is challenged and everyone must stand up straight and recite all the same platitudes. I so wanted to rebel against that when I was younger, but I didn’t know how. I was so afraid that I kept myself hidden and small and insignificant.

That little insignificant boy sometimes peeks into my life, even now. My first thought when I get an idea is, “what will people think?” And, I hate that. I judge that about myself. It’s a fucking prison to care what people think to the extent that it dictates what you allow yourself to do or not do. I write about this topic a lot, to the point where it’s almost exhausting, but it’s only because I watch how it runs on repeat in my mind. I watch how, no matter how many times I catch the thought in mid-air and try to squash it down, it still finds a way to sneak its way back into my life. I no longer care what other people think, it took me years upon years to conquer this, but the feeling and thoughts never really go away.

 Somewhere along the dizzying path from my teenage years to my early twenties, I learned that what other people think of me is more important than what I think of me. I never had an example of people who shun the norm in favor of a deliciously rebellious life. There was no Tumblr. No fashion bloggers of all sizes, colors, and shapes. No bloggers, period. No YouTube videos talking about how it gets better. No uplifting quotes about how to change your life. No seventeen-point listicles mirroring myself back to me, making me feel less alone. I didn’t know any writers or artists. I didn’t know anyone who wanted more out of their lives. I was so deeply rooted in the “reality” of life that I numbed myself to my dreams. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I hadn’t spent my teenage years and early twenties denying who I was in favor of being what other people wanted me to be. I wish I hadn’t accommodated so many fucking people when all I wanted to do was break free and be myself.

So, here’s my advice to you: fight for yourself and for who you are. One day, whatever you hate about yourself now will be what you love about yourself later. I was a weird kid, I loved school, I had acne, I was a progressive old soul trapped in the body of a teenager. I wish I’d let that all fly.

Please give yourself permission to let the weird out. Let the freak flag fly. Let that strange part of you that you desperately keep locked away out into the open and find your people. Your fake-ass friends who don’t even know you aren’t worth it. Find the ones who will see all the parts of you—the ugly and beautiful truth of who you are—and will still love you. Let yourself have that. Believe in the magic of that, because that’s how the world works. The world can be unkind and unjust and unfair, but it does deliver to you such light when you choose to reveal yourself. It’s not easy to unpackage yourself for the world to see and I will never say it doesn’t require all you have not to package yourself back up again, but I think it’s worth it. I think it’s worth being known and seen so brilliantly.

That’s the silver lining to this all, that now I get to appreciate being known and seen as the real me. It may sound cheesy and corny and it kind of is, but some of the best things are cheesy and corny. I’m down with cheesy. I’m down with corny. Because, when I get to be around my people and I get to reveal myself so deeply without fear of being judged or rejected—because I do not judge or reject myself—it’s like total fucking magic. It’s like coming home to a place I never thought existed. And that makes it worth it. So, fight for you. It matters. It’s important. You’re important. This world needs more real, more weird, more rebel. 

This Is The New Loneliness

It’s a weekday evening and you’re feeling restless. You’re texting friends and you’re watching Netflix and you’re on your laptop and you’re scrolling through Tumblr or Facebook or Instagram or Twitter. Your attention is in ten different directions, yet there’s a tug, a tiny voice in the back of your mind. It asks: what are you distracting yourself from? You ignore. Scroll again. Click again.

You send a text: “Wanna hang tomorrow night?” 

“Sure, I need to leave my apartment eventually, lol”

“L O L, me too, goddddd. Ok, let’s plan tomorrow” 

Tomorrow rolls around. 

“You know, can we maybe rain check on plans? I’m cozy!” 

“YES, I totally wanted to bail, too. PERFECT.”

Then, you two text all night. Netflix on in the background. Computer on your lap. Scroll. Click. Scroll. Click. Refresh. Scroll. Click. Text.

Wait a second. What? How is this our new normal? What are we doing with our lives? Making plans with actual human beings and then canceling in favor of a screen, Netflix, gchat, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. How is this okay? How are we accepting this?

How is this a life?

It’s not a life, actually. We cannot spend our days hunched over a screen forging a sense of human interaction. This is not what we were made for. I can guarantee all your best memories live within the moments with others. Where’s your great memory with the internet? Is this really all there is now?

When you look back on your life, will you be happy by how much Netflix you’ve watched? Will you be happy about the graveyard of plans you let fall by the wayside? Will you be happy when you’re surrounded by no one because we’ve all pushed each other away? Pushed and pushed and pushed and, in favor of what? What the hell are we pushing each other away for?

It’s the weirdest thing: our generation. We’re the least and most connected generation ever and yet if you spend some time on the internet, you see:

depression, undiagnosed, unchecked
anxiety, of the social variety
loneliness, rampant and unbelievable
sadness, like it’s a lifestyle
homebodies, like never leaving our apartments is healthy
introverts, like connection with other people is a bad thing
hate people! like it’s cool…
cancel plans! like it’s kind…
Netflix! like it’s a human being…

Do people have true mental illnesses? God, yes. Of course! But this isn’t about mental illness. People with diagnosable depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses don’t make a lifestyle of it. They don’t make a home in those diseases. They frantically fight for their life, because they must. They get help. They furiously chase their happiness. 

Our generation of sadness and loneliness is of the unchecked variety. Of wallowing. Of letting ourselves be disconnected from both others and ourselves. Learning to soothe more than heal. Learning to put a band-aid on problems instead of working through and solving our problems. If something is not immediate, we don’t want it, even if it’ll make us stronger. We’re not growing as people, not really. We’re shoving away “bad feelings” we don’t want to face by clicking, refreshing, scrolling until we’ve numbed ourselves out enough. It’s addiction.

Emotional strength is earned. It cannot be earned by self-distraction. And, that’s what all of this is. DISTRACTION.

Distraction from ourselves.
Distraction from potential pain.
Distraction from our lives, those hopes, those dreams.
Distraction from vulnerability.
Distraction from compassion.
Distraction from kindness.
Distraction from… each other.

 

And, it is making us miserable. It really is. Take a look at your life. Take a look at how you spend your time. Are you happy? Do you have joy? When’s the last time you sat in front of a computer screen for longer than 2-3 hours and walked away feeling joyous and energized? When’s the last time a computer, a television screen, an iPad, a phone… made you feel alive? When’s the last time you felt you were loved and taken care of and healed? When’s the last time you felt strong?

We’ve taken it too far, that’s what is problematic. The internet and these devices are not wholly unhealthy, but it’s the obsession, the constant consumption, the way it breeds a lack of connection with real people. And, it does breed that.

Can all of this technology be great? Yes. But we’re not using it that way. We’re being reckless. We’re acting like none of this matters, that how we spend our days is not how we spend our lives, but it all matters and how we spend our days is exactly how we spend our lives. It is. It just is.

I think we’re afraid, but that’s the whole point of life—that facing down our fears provides for a richer experience. We are not meant to circumvent the process of healing ourselves. We need to face who we are in order to be who we are. We cannot find true connection and true love and the purity of both of those experiences while spending our days not caring about others or ourselves. To not care is to be cool now? Pizza! Netflix! Do nothing all day! Sweatpants! Homebody! Introvert! Hahahaha, we’re all so sad and hate each other!

But, it’s not funny. None of this is.

This is your life. YOUR. LIFE. Do you get it? This is it. And you’re fucking wasting it. Wake up. Life happens in a blink. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Don’t scroll, click, refresh it away. Be here, now. Show up. Care about shit. Care about others. Care about yourself. Be better than this. Let’s all do it. And, if we all do it: maybe it’ll be a fucking revolution. Finally.
 
I’m sick of this sadness. I’m sick of this loneliness. I’m sick of this disconnection from others. I’m so sick of it. Aren’t you?

How You Find The Life That Is Yours

We all have a fantasy life in our heads that we like to hold ourselves hostage to. We feel recklessly and irrationally entitled to the idea we have of who we should be. We hold onto this image, convinced that if we let it go then we are admitting defeat. If we let it go, we’re saying to ourselves (and to the world) that we can’t have that life and giving up on it means giving up on ourselves. As long as we keep this fantasy alive in our mind, it’s still possible, it’s still there for us to think about and dream about and feel entitled to.

We suffer over this fantasy life. We hold the microscope up to our current lives and find all the ways it differs from the life we think we should have. We tell ourselves we are successful, but not nearly as successful as the fantasy. We tell ourselves we are loved, but not nearly as loved as the fantasy. We tell ourselves we are good, but not nearly as brilliant as the fantasy. We punish ourselves for not having this life and we convince ourselves that the tighter we hold onto this vision of who we should be, the closer we get to becoming it. We see this fantasy version of who we should be and assume they’re happier, better, more at peace, stronger, in abundance of everything we are chaotically trying to collect on our own. 

The other day I was thinking about what would happen if I let go of this fantasy version of myself that I grip onto so tightly. The first word that came thundering down into my mind was: free. I’d be free. Free of the constant enduring pressure to live up to this idea I have in my head of the person I should be and to end the constant berating of not being him. 

Free.

You see, we think we know what we want. We think we know what our beautiful, successful, incredible lives look like, but all we really know is the essence of what it feels like. This is why we fantasize. We want to feel. We don’t need all those things to feel that way. We don’t need to become our fantasy in order to feel the essence of it. All we want is the feeling. If you could get the essence of your fantasy life from another source, don’t you think you’d take it?

The problem is that we’re too singularly focused on how our lives should look. We project out into that fantasy and, when some opportunity or person or anything comes along that does not hold up to the fantasy, we push it away. We don’t recognize what’s right in front of us, because we’re focused on a projection we only have in our minds. A projection which is primarily focused on allowing us to feel what it would be like to be happy, fulfilled, content, joyful, light. Our fantasy life isn’t meant to be achieved, not really. It is meant to be a marker, a guidepost, a way to know what it feels like to step into the light. 

You have to let go of the life you think you’re supposed to have in order to step into the life that is yours. This is essential. This is the only way. You have to allow the essence of your fantasy life wash over you, fill up all the cracks in you, and you have to let the image of it blur out into the background. No amount of present suffering over this dream vision is going to bring you the peace and light you desire. Acceptance of where you are now and an allowing of what is to come will give you that peace.

There is a life out there that is yours and it’s not necessarily the movie you have running about in your mind. Maybe it is. Most likely it’s not. The truth is that you cannot use your suffering over the life you don’t have as fuel to get you to the life you want. You have to see clearly and perfectly that you are in your life right now and you have to recognize that this is it, this is the grand moment, and to make that moment feel as beautiful as the essence of that fantasy.

It isn’t easy. Nobody says this is easy. It’s easy to write it and think on it, sure. But stepping into it is one tall order. However, it’s worth it, right? It’s gotta be.

When You’re Running Away

I think what I’ve realized is that pain will haunt you. It can be distracted away. You can drink until you forget. You can shoot up until it feels good. You can eat, fuck, gossip, binge, binge, binge until you think the pain has dispersed and found another home to ruin. But, the pain will rattle around in your bones. It will hide itself until you think you’ve nixed it, until you think you’ve forgotten it, and then it will resurface, ready to rob you of that joy on your face.

It’s difficult to fathom how much time and energy you will expend trying to stuff down that pain. Avoidance and distraction become your two closest friends when all you want is to forget. And, the thing about what you avoid is that whatever it is you’re not facing ends up multiplying. The more you refuse to look at it, the larger it grows. Make a habit of forcing yourself to forget and distracting away the truth and happiness, harmony, peace will be distant hopes on the horizon that push themselves further and further away. 

It’s dramatic, but we have an avoidance and distraction problem. When the pinnacle of emotional success and okayness is the illusion and superficial look of happiness, we will always find it difficult to let ourselves be where we are when we are there. A movement of positive thinking has made us nearly incapable of emotional fortitude and soulful resiliency. Forcing happiness upon ourselves is not strength. The only thing that matters about happiness is how we feel and when we give ourselves an illusion of happiness in order to project it out to others, we do nothing for ourselves except continue the lie that our joy exists on the other side of our ability to distract ourselves from our pain.  

There is nothing particularly strong about taking all measures necessary to avoid ourselves. When our insecurities and fears become aspects of ourselves we feel compelled to cover up and hide away, we do ourselves (and our peace of mind) a disservice. We teach ourselves that happiness requires delusion. But, delusion is weakness. Only when we give ourselves permission to face down the monsters, the darkness, the demons that live inside all of us, do we find ourselves on the opposite end of weakness. It’s the strangest dichotomy of our time that vulnerability and the instinct to expose ourselves fully is actually what will bring us inner strength. That being exposed is safe is the oddest contradiction.

I’ve always wanted to be strong. For most of my life, I have appeared strong and confident to others. Yet, this strength and confidence that they would see was not mine. It was an illusion. It was built off delusion, off being alarmingly talented at avoiding and distracting myself away from any emotional response. As someone who feels very deeply, I had learned early on in my life that I could easily be swallowed by my sensitivity and so I built up barricades. My walls were not obvious because who I would present to the world was charming and likable, someone distracting other people away from her own problems. For many years, vulnerability was not even a word in my vocabulary, never mind something I actually practiced. 

And yet, I desired strength, which I misinterpreted as the appearance of strength, not the feel of it. I was not yet aware this was a key distinction in my life, that just because others labeled me as happy or strong or beautiful or confident did not mean these things were true. These attributes were only as true as I believed them to be. And, I did not believe in my own strength (or happiness or beauty or confidence).

Over the past couple years, I have allowed myself to be vulnerable, to admit openly to myself that I am at times fallible, insecure, unsure, petty, judgmental, and any number of unfavorable attributes that I spent years repressing and disallowing myself to feel or confront. When I look back on that stretch of time, I see that I have healed many parts of myself, but more importantly, I have emptied out all the parts which convinced me that how I felt was invalid and shameful. I have let myself be honest. I have seen the truth of who I am. I have peeled back layers that I had been avoiding for over a decade. It has been terrifying and exhausting and excruciating and laborious, but lately I have noticed the fruits of my labor. I have seen new pockets of strength within me. A true strength, and a true foundation of self. I have watched my sense of self transform from a straw man into something real, something true, something I can believe in. I can trust who I am and I don’t think I’ve ever been able to say that before without silently knowing I actually couldn’t.

It’s a weird sensation: to finally understand and make sense of a years-long effort which was mostly experienced in the dark, with uncertainty and doubt. Of course, part of this knowingness is also the knowledge that this does not indicate a sense of lasting happiness. I no longer live within the delusion that I can hold onto anything. Everything is fleeting and I do not fight against that truth. But, at least, I know I can weather it. I have proven to myself that I am capable, that whatever uncertainties lie on that horizon before me, I believe I can withstand. I do not believe anymore that I can lose myself and perhaps on the off-chance that I do—lose myself, that is—I know what home feels like and I can follow that light—however far into the distance it may be—back to here.

And, maybe, without even knowing what I was fumbling for in the dark, I’ve found something I never knew I needed.

Things I Want To Do Before I Die That I Already Know I Won’t

Sometimes it's good to just write random things, even if it is crap. So, just for the fun of it. Here are some thing I want to do, but know I never will. 

1.) Dissect a wolf who died of natural causes in the middle school class room where I took Sex Ed, placing each of the wolf’s organs in a separate sealed display container, mislabeling the organs.

2.) Walk into a room shaped exactly the size as I am.

3.) Go to Arby's and order six of everything on the menu, and take one bite of each item as they bring it out to me, and then throw the rest on the floor for however long that takes, and then at the end clean it all up by myself, and then come back the next day and apply for a job and get the job. Then quit.

4.) Go to a park in perfect weather and spend an entire day laying on a blanket without the desire for food and not thinking anything except kind things about the other people and animals around me in the park.

5.) Popularize the acronym GGTTBAIMN (Gotta go to the bathroom and I mean Now) by becoming the first person to do that through the soles of my feet.

6.) Ask my dad once more how he’s doing and receive a coherent, informative answer.

7.) Cybersex Facebook-chat with Tom from Myspace

8.) Eat all the cookies currently existing or to be existing later thereby gaining so much weight the air is entirely made of human fat, but still be able to just hang out and do whatever in the meantime like go for a nice walk in the breeze.

9.) Redesign the Cheerios box with a picture of Stephen Colbert being beheaded in front of his children.

10.) Acquire & maintain in my apartment 86,400 working clocks of various design which as a group are set to every possible second in the day.

11.) Watch a horde of Dachshunds swim out of the ocean all together at the same time then up a hill toward a small black cube with a mouth hole in it into which the dogs one by one disappear.

12.) Get so many piercings I don’t have any skin left and just walk around jangling in the daylight handing out coupons for free piercings to little boys and girls at the mall.

13.) Get paid to lay around fantasizing about ridiculous garbage without having to write it down or tell anybody or remember that I thought it.

14.) Open an email that has a live baby inside it and begin to worship the baby but then one day accidentally leave it outside too long in the sun.

15.) Take a photograph of the sun that becomes the most famous photo of the sun ever taken.

16.) Shave Robert Smith’s head with a butter knife.

17.) Go as a Mexican restaurant for Halloween, constructing a costume so intricate and believable that people actually try to come up and open my doors and go inside me.

18.) Befriend an elderly Mexican woman who will come to my house in the late evenings and cook whatever comes to mind using fresh calorie-free ingredients that have appeared in the refrigerator overnight and feed me with an electronic device that requires no hand or attention on my part while I lay on the floor and look at the wall or listen to music if I feel like hearing music, who will let me pay her by reading whatever book I happen to be reading aloud but will still leave somehow with her pockets full of enough money each night to live happily and support her family, and when I’m not hungry or not home she’ll know not to come without requiring contact.

19.) Walk into a room full of everything I’ve ever eaten again reconstituted into how it was before I ate it

20.) Find a shell on the beach that has a mouth that speaks Italian and when people ask me questions I can just hold up the shell.

This Is How We Date Now

We don’t commit now. We don’t see the point. They’ve always said there are so many fish in the sea, but never before has that sea of fish been right at our fingertips on OkCupid, Tinder, Grindr, Dattch, take your pick. We can order up a human being in the same way we can order up pad thai on Seamless. We think intimacy lies in a perfectly-executed string of emoji. We think effort is a “good morning” text. We say romance is dead, because maybe it is, but maybe we just need to reinvent it. Maybe romance in our modern age is putting the phone down long enough to look in each others eyes at dinner. Maybe romance is deleting Tinder off your phone after an incredible first date with someone. Maybe romance is still there, we just don’t know what it looks like now.

When we choose—if we commit—we are still one eye wandering at the options. We want the beautiful cut of filet mignon, but we’re too busy eyeing the mediocre buffet, because choice. Because choice. Our choices are killing us. We think choice means something. We think opportunity is good. We think the more chances we have, the better. But, it makes everything watered-down. Never mind actually feeling satisfied, we don’t even understand what satisfaction looks like, sounds like, feels like. We’re one foot out the door, because outside that door is more, more, more. We don’t see who’s right in front of our eyes asking to be loved, because no one is asking to be loved. We long for something that we still want to believe exists. Yet, we are looking for the next thrill, the next jolt of excitement, the next instant gratification.

We soothe ourselves and distract ourselves and, if we can’t even face the demons inside our own brain, how can we be expected to stick something out, to love someone even when it’s not easy to love them? We bail. We leave. We see a limitless world in a way that no generation before us has seen. We can open up a new tab, look at pictures of Portugal, pull out a Visa, and book a plane ticket. We don’t do this, but we can. The point is that we know we can, even if we don’t have the resources to do so. There are always other tantalizing options. Open up Instagram and see the lives of others, the life we could have. See the places we’re not traveling to. See the lives we’re not living. See the people we’re not dating. We bombard ourselves with stimuli, input, input, input, and we wonder why we’re miserable. We wonder why we’re dissatisfied. We wonder why nothing lasts and everything feels a little hopeless. Because, we have no idea how to see our lives for what they are, instead of what they aren’t.

And, even if we find it. Say we find that person we love who loves us. Commitment. Intimacy. “I love you.” We do it. We find it. Then, quickly, we live it for others. We tell people we’re in a relationship on Facebook. We throw our pictures up on Instagram. We become a “we.” We make it seem shiny and perfect because what we choose to share is the highlight reel. We don’t share the 3am fights, the reddened eyes, the tear-stained bedsheets. We don’t write status updates about how their love for us shines a light on where we don’t love ourselves. We don’t tweet 140 characters of sadness when we’re having the kinds of conversations that can make or break the future of our love. This is not what we share. Shiny picture. Happy couple. Love is perfect.

Then, we see these other happy, shiny couples and we compare. We are The Emoji Generation. Choice Culture. The Comparison Generation. Measuring up. Good enough. The best. Never before have we had such an incredible cornucopia of markers for what it looks like to live the Best Life Possible. We input, input, input and soon find ourselves in despair. We’ll never be good enough, because what we’re trying to measure up to just does not fucking exist. These lives do not exist. These relationships do not exist. Yet, we can’t believe it. We see it with our own eyes. And, we want it. And, we will make ourselves miserable until we get it.

So, we break up. We break up because we’re not good enough, our lives aren’t good enough, our relationship isn’t good enough. We swipe, swipe, swipe, just a bit more on Tinder. We order someone up to our door just like a pizza. And, the cycle starts again. Emoji. “Good morning” text. Intimacy. Put down the phone. Couple selfie. Shiny, happy couple. Compare. Compare. Compare. The inevitable creeping in of latent, subtle dissatisfaction. The fights. “Something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.” “This isn’t working.” “I need something more.” And, we break up. Another love lost. Another graveyard of shiny, happy couple selfies.

On to the next. Searching for the elusive more. The next fix. The next gratification. The next quick hit. Living our lives in 140 characters, 5 second snaps, frozen filtered images, four minute movies, attention here, attention there. More as an illusion. We worry about settling, all the while making ourselves suffer thinking that anything less than the shiny, happy filtered life we’ve been accustomed to is settling. What is settling? We don’t know, but we fucking don’t want it. If it’s not perfect, it’s settling. If it’s not glittery filtered love, settling. If it’s not Pinterest-worthy, settling.

We realize that this "more" we want is a lie. We want phone calls. We want to see a face we love absent of the blue dim of a phone screen. We want slowness. We want simplicity. We want a life that does not need the validation of likes, favorites, comments, upvotes. We may not know yet that we want this, but we do. We want connection, true connection. We want a love that builds, not a love that gets discarded for the next hit. We want to come home to people. We want to lay down our heads at the end of our lives and know we lived well, we lived the fuck out of our lives. This is what we want even if we don’t know it yet.

Yet, this is not how we date now. This is not how we love now.

Building A Big Life

I wish someone had told me that you need to be strong in this life, that flowery romanticism and vacant idealism was never going to be very helpful. I hadn’t realized when I was younger that the kind of strength you need isn’t hard or infallible or impenetrable, because I always thought that was what it meant to be strong. It turns out strength is much more nebulous than that. It turns out that strength is in the reaction, not the action. What do you do when your life takes turns and curves you never expected? Where are you amidst the rubble? What do you do when you’re not who you thought you’d be? What happens when your life turns out entirely different than what you expected? How do you handle that?

I believed in so much when I was younger. That was my generation: the You Can Do Anything You Want Generation. I still believe that, but it requires much more than I ever expected. The You Can Do Anything You Want speech came with an asterisk and some fine print that nobody knew about. You can do anything you want, if you’re ready to work for it, to sustain long bouts of sacrifice, and if you’re willing to learn what it means to truly be strong. Alright, then you can do anything you want. Just be prepared. Because, as it turns out, wanting something really, really, really badly does not lead to having it. There is work involved. There is pain. There is sadness. There is a lot of living that needs to happen in between the moments of dreams and hopes and the pursuit of both. 

I wish someone would have tempered my expectations about life, love, and work. I know part of this is my privilege, that I had the luxury of being around people who really did believe that I could do anything I wanted to do, that the only thing standing between me and success was just me. I know there are a lot of people who do not have the luxury of delusion. One of my friends was born amidst abject poverty in a small country in North Africa where there was no delusion of hopes and dreams, besides making enough money to survive, which in Tunisia, was a dream that many have a difficult time actualizing. His life and the trajectory of his life is humbling.

I am aware that there are only certain pockets of people in this world who have the indulgence of passion, who are ever encouraged to “do only what they love.” Only the privileged are ever encouraged to “follow their passion.” I know this. And, in all honesty, I wish I had never been given such a strangely toxic gift. Because, the foolish pursuit of only doing that which I love to do leaves out far too much of the grittiness of life. It did nothing to prepare me for the fact that—on the path to this elusive, perfect life of only doing what I love—there’s a lot of shit I have to do that I don’t love. And, I was never prepared for this and, fuck, I really wish I had been. At least I would have been strong enough to handle failure and financial stress and the fact that—no matter how much you love something—sometimes it fucking sucks to do it. Sometimes love is not always enough to sustain a commitment. It takes discomfort and suffering and sacrifice and there are painful moments and that’s okay. I know it’s okay now. I didn’t then, when I was in my late teens to early twenties. I hadn’t known that pain and sacrifice were okay, that there is something larger than having good days every day. I know now that hard work feels better than easy rewards. 

I don’t subscribe to this “do what you love” advice anymore. I cringe when I see mugs and totes and bullshit prints about following your passion and doing only what you love. It’s just stupid to think like this. That’s not how life is and that’s not bitter or cynical or pessimistic or negative: it’s fucking freeing, if you let it be. It’s ridiculous to expect that every day should be perfect and that, if you find that magical passion of yours that you love and can make money from, then you shall be awarded lifelong happiness that never falters. It’s not worth even entertaining these expectations, because life can be magic and beautiful and surprising in all the best ways, but it is so many others things as well, unsavory things that you don’t want to think about, but demand your attention. And that’s okay. It’s all okay. Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. Your work—your path, your purpose, your calling, whatever you want to call it—doesn’t have to be something you enjoy every day to be worth you showing up to it daily. The journey does not have to be paved with rainbows in order to be embarked upon.

I let myself get caught up in the fantasy of many things for a dangerously long amount of time and it left me cripplingly unprepared for my life. Flowery words about what you deserve and how life should be a wonderful adventure every moment of every day and you can’t miss any of it and everything should just feel like a movie all the time, these can wrap you up and make you hope for a life that doesn’t exist and a life you shouldn’t be wanting any way. I don’t use the word “should” very often, but I think it’s warranted here. You shouldn’t aim for a life of ease, of comfort, and of perfection, of a constant happiness that never wanes.

A big life is big because it has been built with everything you’ve got, not just the good parts, not just the happy parts: EVERYTHING!. A big life is big in all the ways. Big reward. Big pain. Big sacrifice. Big sadness. Big disappointment. Big excitement. Big happiness.

You will find that the times you are most proud of yourself, the times you look upon your life with wonder, is when you have risen from the depths of something catastrophic, when you’ve stared down your breakdown and not let it ruin you completely. You will sense the real hope that lives within your bones when you’ve become dangerously close to burning through it all completely. Life is better when your stars and stripes are earned. The rewards are more vibrant when you’ve been a little beaten and bruised and broken from weathering the journey it took to get you where you are. You will never appreciate your happiness more than when you’ve lost it, when it has vacated you for long stretches of time and you must claw your way back to it. This is a life. This is the full experience. This is what the whole thing is about. Live it completely, in all the ways in which it is meant to be lived. This is it.

My Mom & The Point

On the Things I Love About My Mom list, which, by the way, is quite lengthy, the way she talks is very high. Easily top five. I love the way my mom talks. For what it’s worth, other top five items include her hair, the fact the she gave birth to and raised me, her love for dogs, and that she used to live in Germany. 

Don’t ask me to rank them. I can’t in good conscience put used to live in Germany up against raised me. No way. They’re both so great. Don’t do that to me.

Anyway, like many moms, mine is a talker. She does it in great quantities and at rapid rates, always unloading information like she’s just been rescued off a deserted island, but there was no one to discuss deserted island stuff with. You might catch her on a long car ride, explaining, in-depth and at-length, the many and varied character dynamics existing within her book club. You also might catch her by the front door, waiting to corner you on your way out, making you unpreparedly discuss your love life, living situation, and career plans. It’s impressive. And lately, I’ve taken to critically analyzing my mom’s communicative behavior, because it’s intriguing, and also my medical degree has gotten some use.

Hear me out.

Premise one: At 26, I don’t spend as much time with my mom as I did when I was, say, 12. Which is sad. But quite inevitable. (For my age, we see each other often, so it’s cool.)

Premise two: Now that I don’t spend as much time with my mom, it’s easier to view her speech patterns through an unbiased lens. When we’re catching up, I’m better able to examine the way she speaks: what she says, how she says it, the structure of her stories, etc.

Premise three: Recently, I have become aware of premise one, two, and my unbiased lens has turned into a microscope. I analyze everything my mom says. I am a master of her communicative trends.

Thesis: My mom is 3% point, and 97% getting there.

She’s an excellent storyteller. Seriously. She understands which narration styles work, and which don’t, better than anyone I know. That’s what makes her so dangerous.

Traditionally, her choice storytelling method looks like this:

Pretty straightforward.

She begins, then builds, builds again, builds some more, and then boom, she hits you with the point. Textbook approach. But like any Great, my mom can’t be flawless at all times.

So, with our aggregate conversations on the decline, it’s no surprise that her performance has taken a slight hit. Her general strategy remains the same: she builds suspense with circumstantial evidence, capturing your attention before staggering you with whatever the point may be. Except the circumstantial evidence portion has grown. Exponentially. Like, at least tenfold. And there’s no stopping it. She just overwhelms you with background info until you arrive at some sort of conversation oblivion, wherein there is no escape. You’re trapped. Trapped in background information.

Take a look:

THE BACKGROUND INFO SMUDGED THE RISING ACTION.

An example of my mom’s new storytelling approach at work: recently, she told me the gripping tale of her trip to Target. It was insane. She ran into like six people she knew, she was barely wearing any makeup, and it took her twice as long as it should have because everyone in the store was slow-moving, an ideology my mom is firmly against. Those are the three chief points of the story as I understand them: (1) ran into some people; (2) not cosmetically prepared; (3) others are slow. But here are some ancillary facts I picked up along our journey to the point: the quality of her frozen coffee beverage, the color of her fleece zip-up, the array of vehicle issues she had to endure, at which intersection there was unexpected traffic, how she knows every person she ran into, how she feels about every person she ran into, how she feels about the friends of every person she ran into, what the weather was like that day, which food item the dogs had recently gotten into, and so much more that I’ve since forgotten.

The following point can’t be emphasized enough: I love my mom for this. It genuinely is one of my favorite things about her. It helps us stay entirely connected despite not living together.

Which leads me to the point of this post.

Conclusion: Every person should talk like my mom talks to an extent.

Think about how knowledgeable the world would be. Every piece of information — each seemingly trivial but possibly valuable fact — would be out on the table, ready to be digested and dealt with.
Would we be overwhelmed? Yeah, probably. Perpetually confused? Maybe. But it’s the ultimate form of transparency. And for that, my mom is a hero. That’s right. My mother is a crusader. A crusader in the name of forthrightness. And I love her for that.

Never change, Mom.

26 pieces Of Advice Before You Turn 26

1.  First of all, never become the kind of person who writes blog posts about the things someone should know before they reach a certain age. In the worst case scenario, where you find yourself writing such a post, stop and go outside, run a mile, maybe start learning a language. Literally, do anything else you can think of doing. Even lying down and making snow angels on your dirty floor is better than continuing to write an X Pieces Of Advice Before You Turn Age X. ANYTHING. I mean it.

2. Listen better

3. Stay at the same job for longer than a year. I’m not saying if you hate your job you should stay; you (probably) shouldn’t. Choose a path, make connections, kiss some butt, do a job as well as you can – though that’s not overly important – and stick with it until a more comfortable position comes along. Depressing, sure. True, absolutely.

4. Knowing how to properly kiss a vagina or penis seems like it’d be important, if you listened to the internet, but it isn’t. I’m not saying you should purposefully be bad at that kind of thing. It’s just, don’t worry about trying to get better at it by reading about it on the internet, or by practicing on a banana or whatever. Just fall in love with someone who communicates.

5. Staying in shape is good. When you arrive to your mid twenties, perhaps late twenties, there will come a moment when you happen to see a picture of yourself from your early twenties or late teens and you may realize your body has changed. Because up until that point you’ve done pretty much nothing outside of your daily job, or intramural sports with friends, to keep yourself in shape. And by the time you realize it you’ve dug yourself such a deep hole that getting back out of it can seem kind of pointless, considering you may now have children or a job or something else taking most up your time. So, stay in shape. I’d say a good rule of thumb is when you reach the age of 26, if you have an office job, change your diet from “I eat anything before me” to something like “I eat things that are green sometimes.” Listen, I’m just trying to save you from years of embarrassing Crossfit. I'm in excellent shape and you should be too.

6. Find a hobby other than drinking.

7. Don’t worry about your hair so much. Everybody has to deal with getting older. Nothing is happening for a reason. Everything is just happening, like everything else.

8. Have confidence. You like being self-effacing, I know. And that’s admirable, in a way, but erring on the side of cocky is not always a bad thing.

9. Don’t waste your time trying to be an artist. It will get you nowhere in life, and in fact sometimes it will make you a worse person than you would’ve been had you not tried to be one. Because it will make you jealous and bitter and resentful for reasons you don’t even understand. So, do anything else.

10. Call your mom and dad more often. I know you’ll be going through points in your life when you can’t do much more than sleep and worry. But in the good times, or even the halfway good, call them.

11. Worry less about everything.

12. Learn foreign languages.

13. Watch out for steel falling on your head, if you plan to work at a steel factory. Also, don’t work at a steel factory.

14. Just do the thing you want to do…until you can’t do it anymore.

15. Invest in stocks that go up and don’t invest in ones that go down.

16. Take more risks. The more risks you take, the better off you’ll be. Or the worse off, I don’t actually know.

17. Buy fewer video games and music and random junk and instead buy high-quality clothes and luggage and goods that last a long time and increase in value.

18. Always bet on the most boring sports team - or the team you want to win the least – and you will be rich.

19. There’s a guy named (fill in the blank) who will be the worst boss you’ve ever had. Don’t be such a wuss around him. You’re going to quit the job anyway, so don’t take much crap.

20. Go on the internet less

21. Again, once more for emphasis, do the thing you want to do. How much time can one person spend worrying about not doing it anyway?

22. Don’t text and drive, or drink and drive, or just don’t drive at all. Get a bike and live in the city. Honestly, that’s your best bet.

23. Plan ahead. I’m really not much of a help for what that “plan” should be. Just make a plan.

24. Get better at math, or science, or be really good at being a jerk or bossing people around. That’s where the money is.

25. Try not to believe God is punishing you for every “bad” thing you do. Getting undressed with someone and that someone touching your nipples or butt has no bearing on what’s going to happen after you die.

26. Believe in yourself. Because when you believe in yourself you believe in me and when you believe in me you get this pointless lists that takes you nowhere. Actually, forget everything I said. Goodbye.

Butt Stuff, And Other Weird Acts Your Relationship Might Be Missing

Relationships are great because you have a partner in crime, regular sex, and the thrill of being in love. But those things are nothing compared to the real reason being someone’s someone is the shit: You get to be totally gross and totally weird pretty much whenever. 

When you just start dating, you spend hours primping before you see each other and have polite conversations. When you’re in the thick of a serious relationship, you can be like, “Hey, I watched Wayne’s World three times this week and yes, that’s period blood on my sweatpants.”  I have been told this in the past. 

If you’ve been with someone for a hot minute and you’re still keeping everything above board, you’re doing it wrong. I’m not saying you should turn into a swamp monster, but it’s important that you guys are comfortable enough to get at least a little weird. I guess what I’m saying can be encompassed by a Seal lyric, “We’re never going to survive unless we get a little crazy.” Anyway, here’s some weird shit you can/should be doing with your love. 

PERSONAL NARRATIVES FOR YOUR PETS....

If you don’t talk about your dog or cat like s/he has a full-time job, an illustrious history of breaking laws or a first responder, you’re doing it wrong.  Before I met my last girlfriend, I’d often daydream that my German Shepard, Luna, is a lawyer who moved to America from France, where she pranced around the countryside in knee socks and a cap.

But since we’ve watched A Time to Kill, we decided that Luna was on the jury in the case of a black man who murdered the men who raped and killed his young daughter.  The movie’s set in Canton, Mississippi and the general vibe is that Canton was not a chill place to be a black man on trial for murder. Matthew McConaughey saves the day by describing to the jury the brutal details of the rape and murder of this young girl. It’s emotional and disturbing and totally heartbreaking but he knows that’s not enough to get the jury to let a black man free, so he ends his speech with this killer line, “Now imagine she was white.” Everyone on the jury is super ashamed of their racism and the verdict comes back as not guilty. Well, we would regularly ask Luna what it was like when she had to “imagine she was white” and it’s completely stupid but also the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. It’s a dumb joke, but it brought the three of us closer together every time we would mention it. So, you know, get creative. Watch some 90s dramas and run with it. 

 BUTT STUFF...

I’m not talking about the kind of butt stuff you’re probably thinking of, but you probably should be doing that too.  What I’m talking about is taking every opportunity you get to swipe an iTunes gift card over the ass of your significant other’s jeans. I’m talking about sticking your foot out on the couch just as your girlfriend/boyfriend is about to sit down so that, for a brief moment, your foot is in her/his behind and they jumps up like, “What the fuck?” I’m talking about slapping your boyfriend/girlfriends butt when they looking in the freezer and least expecting it and never letting an opportunity to grab it in public when no one’s looking pass. As a kid my dad was a big believer in “up your butt” being the answer to almost any question that you’re ever asked. Where’s the remote? Probably up your butt. Have you seen my keys? Yeah, up your butt. What happened to the rest of the wine? Babe, it’s up your butt. 

 PICKING AND TWEEZING...

Sorry, there’s nothing more satisfying than being able to pop someone’s zits. And your platonic friends are no good for that shit. You can’t ask one of your friends to put their head in your lap so you can Tweeze a hair you’ve spotted in an inappropriate place. I would argue that the sole reason for a long-term relationship is that you always have someone to answer, “Hey, is that a pimple on my back or a mole?”

 UGLY DANCING AND SINGING...

Most of us can’t dance or sing for shit and because of that, we often hold back on our impulse to sing along to oldies as loud as possible or dance to records in your living room. But when someone loves you, they’ve probably seen you fully naked and swallowed a fair amount of your spit, so why the fuck wouldn’t you belt out a pop song you barely know the lyrics to? Why wouldn’t you unleash “dance moves”? Basically, you can dance naked for hours in your room like you did when you were single, except someone’s there to watch and you’re totally cool with it. 

 DISGUSTING EATING HABITS...

Go ahead, admit that you like bacon on your pizza and dip Fritos in cream cheese. Knock out a box of Bagel Bites like nobody’s watching. I personally like all these things and apples dipped into nacho cheese. Drink an entire six pack of root beer without even thinking about it because the person you’re with totally doesn’t care. I’m not saying you should become morbidly obese, but when you really love someone, you can watch them down an entire cheeseburger and still think they’re the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Quit ordering light, get three appetizers AND the pulled pork. You’re safe here.

Playing devil's advocate with the voices in my head

It was very difficult to write this because I couldn't just think of things off the top of my head to put in this post. I had to really think about the things that go on in my head. when I would lay down and think about the last hour or so I had just passed, I would think of the things the voices in my head said and I would argue about them.

First of all, I would like to point out that the voices in your head are NOT always right! There is one little voice that serves a purpose of lowering my self-esteem. I'm sure I am not the only one with this voice. You ever wonder why it takes girls so long to get ready? Its because of this voice telling them they are not good enough. Always comparing themselves and even if they are a confident person, deep down there is still that one voice telling them "No, don't go out like that" or "Really? Your going to wear that?" According to my friend, those are what her voices say to her specifically.
DON'T GIVE IN TO THIS VOICE! Like, what is this shit? If any of the other voices in my head could just put a muzzle on this guy, that would be great! THANKS!

I once had a friend that had a bad habit of playing devils advocate, not so much with the voices in his head, but rather with other people. If someone voiced an opinion he would have a tendency to formulate all the ways in which that person may be wrong or ways in which he could counter attack that opinion. He would do this regardless of whose opinion he actually agreed with. It was sort of like "Socratic Questioning" and if you don't know what that is, its questioning that leads people to contradict themselves. He was more concerned with people using sound logic rather than actual opinions themselves. If people seemed to be very sure of something, then he would feel the need to test their logic. This can be very cynical and negative. These voices in his head had such control over him that he had very few real opinions himself. He would tend to destroy opinions into deconstructive absurdity. Don't let these voices have such an impact on you, that you are looked down upon by society.

It may not seem like it, but yes the voices in your head are there to help you make your decisions. The following are things that I do or think about rather often and I think a lot of you may be able to relate. Soooo...here it goes...

What happens when you lose your keys? Your voices beat you up.

You get a speeding ticket? Beat yourself up.

Stub your toe? Beat yourself up.

Person looks at you funny? Beat THEM up! just kidding.

-I need to go to bed, seriously I have to get up early.

 Ugh I want caffeine, I should really do something about my caffeine addiction, I really want some though, OOoooh and Tacos...


-Get off facebook and type your paper!
 Yah I will just let word processor load for a bit..
 Oh shes dating a new guy now? Well good for her!
 Facebook chat? I think YES!
 NO! Paper due tomorrow! Must. type. paper!
 What am I doing my paper over? Lets ask someone
 ORRR OR OOORRR... I will check my news feed
 whore. whore. asshole. bitch. complains to much. OH GOD WHAT IS THAT?
 yeh I think I will just write my paper in the morning...

Do fish get cramps after they eat?

Superman, why do you duck when someone throws something at you? You can stop a bullet with your chest.

Golfing would be sooo much cooler if air cannons replaced drivers, air pistols for putting, Black Eyed Peas were the holes and the balls exploded.

Im hungry
Am I really hungry?
No, I think I am just bored
No but food sounds so good
Who wants paaancaaaakkeesss?

There you have it, some of the voices in my head, what do yours tell you?

How books changed my life

I grew up in a small town where everyone and everything was the same - same people every day, same story, same expectations... It was not until I started reading for pleasure that I discovered a much bigger world beyond the one I knew growing up. A world that encompassed other worlds, other civilizations, other cultures, many other types of people and beliefs. I learned, through reading, that I could be whoever I chose to be - even if it was different than those around me - and I would find like minded people out there in the world. Books changed my life, my outlook, my morals, my intellect (absolutely) - my world was opened by books.

I had a teacher back in the day that told me that "Writers write to change people, readers read to become changed." You see, I have learned far more from reading books than anything I was taught in school. I feel like I am more alive, a better person. My advice to you is, open a book and watch the world change around you.