“June, it might be the most dishonest blog post you never read.
The one I never wrote but always said I would. It could have been the best showcase of my work ever seen, a game changer that didn’t require hyperbole or Facebook ads to make it popular.”
He read the words on the screen not once and not twice but thrice for no reason other than boredom and fear.
That is a bad combination, boredom and fear. It is the one you fight because you want to say your actions are well thought out and not based upon impulse.
But if they are based upon impulse, well then you want to let them fly free and be as stupid 0r mind-bendingly brilliant as possible.
Except fear holds you back and instead of taking your shot you half ass it and end up doing something stupid that never was going to accomplish what you hoped it would because you didn’t just go for it.
The Most Dishonest Blog Post You Never Read
If you’re new here I’ll help you out and say I am the boy and the man in the photo above, age 18 and 48.
Thirty years of life experience separate those two and though they are both me there are times where it is impossible for me not to think of them as two different people.
The kid was sitting in the bleachers at a swim stadium in Los Angeles getting ready to compete in the last few races of his high school swim career.
He had no idea that one day he wouldn’t be all muscle and able to eat 900,000 calories a day or that his hair would mutiny.
That boy was Editor-In-Chief of his high school newspaper and his university. He figured that would be enough to get a job as a sports writer and that it would be enough.
Today the man looks back at all of the twists and turns of life and wonders if the boy could have been more naive.
Every now and then the boy surfaces and points an accusatory finger at the man and asks how he could have screwed it all up.
“You lost all of our hair, got way too heavy and failed to get us the job we wanted.”
It is a good thing he can’t physically manifest himself because the man would beat him silly just for being young and dumb.
“You never would have survived what we have been through without changing, and yeah, the body looks different but we have responsibilities. We can’t focus solely on ourselves anymore.”
Pay Someone To Beat You Up
One of the joys of maturity is discovering your body sometimes responds to life’s activities with a series of aches and pains.
I have been focused on trying to minimize some of that by increasing the amount of exercise I get and eating healthier.
Can’t say that diet is that much better but I walk about five miles a day. Sometimes that includes some running but not as often as it probably should because I get bored with running.
Love it if I am playing basketball, football or baseball, but running for the sake of running…not so much.
Anyhoo, the last two weeks I have had some significant pain in my back, neck and right arm that I couldn’t shake off.
I stretched, lifted and took Ibuprofen but none of it was doing a damn thing so I paid someone to beat me up.
Or in other terms, I went to Grapevine Mills and paid for a 15 minute chair massage.
Yeah, I sat in a chair in the middle of the mall while some guy beat me with his hands. It hurt but I figured it was because I was really sore so I gritted my teeth and tried not to cry.
Grunts were ok, crying was not.
There was a lot of grunting, enough to make me worry about being filmed by Marlon Perkins great-grandson.
I always wanted to be on Wild Kingdom but never as the animal star.
Fortunately my 15 minutes in the chair didn’t lead to YouTube fame but it did lead to profuse sweating, Albert Brooks in Broadcast News like sweating I might add.
I did it because I felt like the pain and discomfort were impinging on my ability to work harder at getting into the kind of shape I want to be in.
Hours later the places that hurt the most don’t hurt like they were, but damn if I am not really sore.
It is not easy to let some guy beat me up that way, but being able to move a bit more freely is a pretty good reward.
I’d share more stories about how cool I am and provide pictures that would make you jealous because social media is made for making people jealous except I am tired.
Too tired to make shit up in a humble brag sort of way so I am going to cut this short and go pack.
There is a plane seat with my name on it and I need to get ready to occupy it because there is nothing better than speeding through the sky in a giant metal tube filled with cranky strangers.
And with that I bid you adieu and thank you for reading this nonsense,
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