A Brutal Evaluation Part 2; The Reckoning

I’ve been looking at how I live my life lately, it’s a brutal evaluation. (See what I did there?) Are there things I do that are worth/not worth my time? The gist of part 1 was me trying to justify how I spend my free time, the reward I feel I get when I do certain things.  Today, for example, I already

went to the gym, walked the pup and GSD (got shit done) around the house, now I have some precious open time. A part of me really, really wants to be The Undertaker and beat the snot out of some jabroni in the Hell in A Cell. I feel there is reward and release in that for me today. Instead, here I am, laying out hours of my life, cracking jokes no one reads and baring my soul to just about nobody. I hope the sacrifice of me mindlessly playing videogames in favor of writing a blog will be a fair trade. The mystical “word faucet” seems to still be on, so might as well go with it. I’m pretty sure I’m like the Buddha, and 2000 years from now, my blog will make sense to people. Also, my belly is hanging out of my loosely fastened robe right now.

I have 4 bottle caps in my belly button.

Funny story how life can teach you lessons. Last night, I saw one of my favorite musicians. He is truly talented, writes sharp lyrics and is extremely funny. In a proper world, he would be famous. But here in the real world, he’s not. He bared his soul for over 90 minutes to a very receptive room of about 100 people or so. He travelled all day, hiked all his guitars up a flight of stairs. And maybe he wouldn’t admit it, but I am sure he would feel a lot better if he was playing a room of 500 or 1000 people instead of 100 or so. Then he packs all his stuff up, schleps it back to his hotel, gets some sleep and drives for hours to his next gig in a similar room. What he does is tough. So, it makes my infantile whining about “writing a blog nobody reads” pretty freaking insignificant. Fuck, if he can keep going on, I guess I can, too. It’s funny, because what typically happens when you follow a musician for an extended period of time, is that generally, “the early stuff” is the most revered. Everyone loves all those albums and songs from before the artist “broke” and finally had big hits. There is a certain freedom in basically writing whatever the fuck I want, and no one notices. Except for my few faithful readers who I am grateful for.

You know what. I’m drinking right now, so I raise a toast to you guys who read my stuff. Cheers, renegades!

GD it, I just spilled rum on my keyboard. Motherf*cker.

I will be the first to admit, I am a total dick when it comes to “my time.” When I do have free time, I get all haughty and defensive about how I spend it, and everyone else can just go pound sand. I will lay in the hammock as the unmowed grass starts to tickle my ass. I will read a book while I should be paying bills. I am a gremlin with my free time, and I am doing my best to be more efficient. Man, adulting can be mas difficulte.

As a public service to my readers, I will detail things I feel I have to change. Before, I do that, though, this bears repeating:

I AM FUCKING AWESOME AS I AM.

OK. I think we’re all together now. Maybe this post will entertain you. No, that’s a lie; we all know this self-torture entertains you sick mofos. We all love when artists torture themselves. You know how many great songs came about from a divorce? Anyway, maybe, you might learn a few things, or draw some inspiration from just one moron trying to be better. (Note to self; change blog byline to “just one moron trying to better.”)

Stare at My Phone Less. Yes, I have railed on this before, and I have been pretty successful in putting my phone down and leaving it there. For example, if I am going to watch TV, I am going to watch TV. Duh. I leave the phone on a different floor. (Yes, I have a house with more than one floor. Don’t be jealous.) I find I enjoy whatever I’m watching more. Like most people, my phone is my alarm clock. Previously, when the alarm would go off, I would swipe to FB or the web and immediately get enraged. Now, the alarm goes off, I shut it off, and immediately go give Theory Pup 2 bellyrubs. It’s an awesome way to start any morning and will only get better when I train him to give me bellyrubs in return. 

Truth, yo.

It boggles my mind when I watch hockey games, and they show the fans in the seats right behind the team. These are the most expensive seats in the place, and a majority of these dipshits have their heads buried in their phones. I get a take a pic or two, but then enjoy the experience. Same thing when I go to a show. I’ve grown to at least tolerate the behavior, as at least I can go to YouTube the next day and look at video if I want.

Watch Less TV. I’m finding it harder and harder to find good shows to watch. Yes, yes, I know every show on Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, etc is “fucking awesome.” I find I get jealous when I read married people with jobs and kids and bills and houses can still find the time to binge watch a season of whatever, and I struggle to find the time to watch the third episode of Black Mirror. (I hope it’s another pig-fucking one!) Look, there’s nothing wrong with watching TV, but one good thing about writing is at least there is something I am creating that I can leave behind. When that episode of The Handmaid’s Tale is over, it’s over. With writing at least, I can create something with that time and maybe have it entertain a few folks. Tangible. In a very real form, this is my art; words and a screen. And when I do it right, it gets a laugh. And yes, I just called my blog “art” because it is, so deal with it, unwashed commoners. 

What happens when I don't write blogs often enough.

Drunk Text Less. See above, but it has a lot to do with putting the phone away. Previously, all my West Coast friends would get blown up all night by obnoxious Drunk Kev. Now, I’ve gotten so much better at realizing I’m blotto and no one wants to deal with it. In fact, so far this year, I’ve only sent two dick pics to my grandma.

OK, that’s a lie. My grandma is dead.

So it’s whoever has her number now.

Better Handwriting. My god, does my actual handwriting blow. There are sometimes even I don’t know what the hell I wrote. It looks like chicken scratch. I mean, after the chicken gets his head cut off. I know this has nothing to do with how I spend my time, but it’s always bothered me. I’ve scribbled a bunch of great blog ideas that I’ve never been able to decipher. It’s history’s loss.

How this post looked originally. 

Read More. Maybe it’s just coincidence that I am watching TV less. I find myself enjoying a good book. As a failing writer, I try to put myself in the author’s head to see where they get their ideas and style from. Reading can be inspiring and encouraging. Again, look at the return on investment here; I can read and appreciate another’s work, but it takes me far less time and effort to read it than write something on my own.

Drink Less. I know, I know; I’ve said this before. Not that I think I have a problem. TBH, there are times when I can go weeks without a drink. Sometimes that conscious, sometimes it just organically shakes out that way. There are times when I know I just want one drink and I’m fine. There are other times when blood gets on my fangs, and you have to lock the friggin’ liquor cabinet. The sad fact is I can still pretty much drink like when I was younger, the cruel reality is I can’t recoup nearly as quick as I used to. Small steps, for sure. For beginners, I quit knocking back a small bottle of brandy every Wednesday morning, I think that entitles me to a chip of some sort. WHERE’S MY GD CHIP??

It seems all my favorite authors share two traits:

1) They read a lot

2) They drink a lot

1 

I like to read! I like to drink! Hell, sometimes I’m a real rebel and do both at the same time! I don’t have to be a mathematician to tell you I’m, like, ¾ of the way to being a real writer!

Well, came across this one too late.

Volunteer More. A very simple and rewarding thing to do. I didn’t realize how much I slacked on this, till I did my taxes. (Pro tip-you can write the mileage AND any meal you eat to or from -off!) (‘nother Pro-tip; don’t take accounting advice from me.) No matter how cold or dark my…uh…your heart can be, volunteering can make a world of difference. Now, that I’m thinking, it’s almost like volunteering to write blogs no one reads….

Spend More Time with Pup 2. Maybe it’s a walk, or some playtime, or trying to teach him commands. People are nowhere near as good as dogs are. Plus, dog blogs equal hits! Win win! In fact, I can’t write around him because he rocks those puppy dog eyes, and I melt. Thusly, every blog I write is time away from my dog, so you heartless jackals best be appreciating the shit out of my posts.

I feel like this is a pretty solid beginning. And I’m lazy, so this is a pretty solid ending as well. I’ll work on these for now; how much more perfect can I be? If I can stick to these, the posts should be more rewarding. And I’ll write more. And people will read more. And…..