Fear is a Photograph

Fear.

F. E. A. R.

Face Everything And Rise.

Forget Everything and Run.

A lot of my life has revolved around those four simple letters. From an early age, fear and I were well acquainted. I have had nightmares and night terrors throughout my life (still do from time to time), and I constantly struggle with a fear of failure, a fear of change. I could write a book (haha! Shameless plug to read my book Nemesis: The Diary of Jared Donovan. It's on Amazon).

This is not to say I have allowed those four letters to control me completely; I am lucky enough to have had parents who could both comfort me on the bad moments and empower me to find ways to take control of my fears. I am married to an incredibly strong woman who can quiet my proverbial hurricane as needed and creates a stable, solid foundation to build my life around. My siblings are phenomenal, I have great friends, and I am stubborn enough to fight my way through most hardships. Along my journey, I have found the best weapon I have against fear is what I do to overcome them. Exercise, writing, music...whatever it takes.

And yet, the last year has been imbued with a frightening new pulse of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of a lack of control...oh yeah, and that whole Corona Virus thing...we'll get to that.

I lost a job I considered a life calling last summer, due to the massage school closing. A place I had carved out a niche for over ten years, gone in a matter of weeks. I spiraled into a dark place, as dark as I can remember since high school (story for another day). It continued day to day, month to month, seemingly hollowing out my very soul. I have had no idea what to do with this next chapter of my life, and I am still figuring it out. But the fear of life without teaching has been dissipating. Slowly, but it is dissipating.

Later last year, I was given the most potent dose of fear yet. My 18 month (now 2 years) old son had a seizure in the middle of the night. At 4:30 A.M, I awoke to an odd sound coming through our baby monitor. My stomach dropped, and my wife and I closed the distance to our children's room in record time. After a few moments, we took him to the emergency room.

He came to on the way to the hospital, and eventually fully came out of it. After an exhausting and agonizing few hours, we were discharged with a new pathological term, and, a new name for fear: Febrile Seizure (basically, a seizure caused by a spike in a fever). Febrile seizures are somewhat common, and the seizure itself isn't overly worrisome unless it's longer than 10 minutes (his was about 6 minutes of hell). Up until about the age of 5, we will have to watch him closely if he gets a fever.

The reason I mention this experience is simply for context. My son is doing well.

Since that night, I have been working on this post. Up until recently, I haven't had the ability to properly frame it. This is my best shot.

Even though it's been almost 6 months, I can still remember how he looked, how he smelled, which pajamas he was wearing...I remember the exact sounds he was making. I have never been so scared in my entire life. I can't remember what I had for breakfast today or where I leave my damn phone on the daily, but I can tell you every detail about that night.

Fear is a photograph. Some of the edges blur in time, but the subject matter is captured eternally. I can remember the panic. I can remember the pain on my wife's face as she tried to be strong in those moments. I remember my stomach tying in knots as the doctors checked on my little boy. I remember the 3 times I almost vomited from the suffocating feeling of waiting for his temperature to drop. I remember how scared I was to go to sleep that night, afraid he'd have another one.

Fear is a photograph. Every time I think about that night, it's like looking at a Polaroid. It is a visceral, sobering feeling. But that fear I felt frames the reality of what happened that night. It is the fear that makes me check on my son and daughter as they sleep, to check the temperature anytime I think they might feel warm, to focus on keeping them well.

Over time, I check the monitor less, worry less...but the memory of that night will forever be frozen in time in my memory.

Fear is a photograph. Don't believe me? Have you been to Walmart or Costco lately? How many of you have seen pictures of empty shelves on social media? How many of us drove out to our local stores only to find things we didn't think would be hard to find (i.e. toilet paper, hand sanitizer).

 Anyone wake up to an earthquake and panic-call or text pretty much everyone you know? Check up on the food storage you have/wish you had?

I am not one to judge what people do when they are afraid. Like I said, I do some fairly obsessive things too. The fight-or-flight kicks in, and people go full Walking Dead mode. It turns into survival. People get primal when that adrenaline kicks in. I get it. I wish there was more TP around, but I get it.

The point is, all of us are afraid. Whether you think this is the end of the world, Mother Nature unleashing her wrath, or simply just a trainwreck of a year so far, fear is floating around like a thundercloud and man, it is pouring right now.

A quarantine/social distance is not great for anyone in the bodywork or service field, let alone for us small business owners. Numerous dear friends have lost their jobs at spas, clinics, and offices across the state. The fear of the unknown is absolutely suffocating for so many of us. Flattening the curve is terrifying when you know that if you don't work, you don't get paid. And yet, to slow down the spread of the virus, it is necessary.

Today, my wife and I made an incredibly painful decision to close up and not see clients for a few weeks (hopefully) to do our part. We are doing it to protect our family, our friends, our clients, and hopefully, to resolve this virus business as soon as possible. We will be ok, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I am not arrogant enough to think that I am immune to the virus or that I am young and strong enough to survive it; it's not about me. It's about me being the common denominator between the virus and everything I have built my life around. It's about the people I care about. It's about my photograph.

Look closer at your own personal photograph. What do you see? I see my family. I see my clients. I see my future, my kids' future. I see my parents. I see my nieces and nephews. I see my friends.

The things we focus on in our respective photographs are the most important things in the world. I am guilty at times of losing that perspective, of focusing too much on work or other trivial things. Of rolling my eyes when my daughter wants to show me her 13,000th drawing of a cheetah on a given day. Or preferring to turn on the tv or scroll social media rather than cherish the little things.

Fear makes us see what life would be like without what's in that photograph.

When all of this is over, we will all have a choice. We can go back to where we were before COVID-19, or we can see things a little more sharply, a little more clearly. Our grandkids will ask us about it with interest, like some of us did about the Great Depression, Woodstock, Pearl Harbor, or even 9/11.

One day, we will have to field the hard questions, and I intend to answer that I did everything I could to help. Shutting down for this time period is terrifying. I have more trepidation about it than I can convey here with mere words, but I intend to be able to look back at my photograph, fuzzier than it once was, and be able to give as much detail as I can about the reality of these scary times and what I did to contribute.   

In closing, even though we all hold our photographs close and will do anything to protect them, we all must realize that the fear will pass. But I guarantee we will all remember it. When the fear is gone, it's up to us what the lasting effect is. This fear is not going to last forever, but the lessons we learn from it very well could. 

In the meantime, embrace what you see in your personal polaroid. Call your loved ones. Hold your kids close. Cherish the little things. Share your toilet paper (if you have it to spare). Take care of the people in your lives in need. Be human. Do what you can. 

Be good to each other. See you on the other side of the quarantine.

sb

Purgatory

I didn't think it'd be easy. I didn't think it would be this hard. In my head, I guess I just thought it would feel like every other transitional period I've gone through. But it doesn't.

Sometimes, just for a minute, I find peace. Then, reality and doubt collide, and I'm left to pick up the pieces and try to hold it together, swimming through this limbo summer the best I can. I feel like a part of me, the strongest part, is missing. Just, gone. Feel free to reference a Thanos snap if you want.

It's been almost 4 months since I found out I was losing my teaching job. A lot of things have happened, including witnessing some incredible people overcoming an impossible situation. I was able to do my part, to finish my own story in those halls and classrooms. It was an amazing sacrifice, an unrivaled experience, and it's over. I no longer am an instructor at my alma mater.

And it hurts.

Truth be told, a lot of things are better since the end of that chapter. I get to see my kids every day, get to tuck them in bed almost every night, and I get to choose when I work. I have more time for my clients, and I have been filling my time with as many clients as I can. I get to watch my daughter play her soccer games (which is hysterical), go on walks with my family, go to pretty much any concert I want to without conflict, and am dangerously close to having a routine.

Sounds pretty great, right? For the most part, it is pretty awesome. My kids love it, my wife loves it, and I...well, love most of it.

And yet, this gaping hole in my heart seems to drain, or at least siphon the joy that I feel. I'm not one to feel satisfied normally, so it's not a surprise that I don't feel content. But I do feel like I should be feeling some sense of peace, some sense of belonging with what I'm doing. My passion seems to be ebbing out, dulling the joy that I always thought I would feel doing all of these things.

This is all starting to sound like a setup for a Dashboard Confessional record.

Let me clarify.

I don't want to go back to working weird hours, being away from my family, having no time for anything else. What I am really trying to get around to saying is that I miss the strength I got from those things. When I was in the classroom, I knew exactly what needed to be done, what I wanted to do, what I needed to do, and I could look in the mirror and know who I was. I gained a lot of strength knowing my mission, knowing that I could complete it, and knowing that I could repeat it.

And now, a big part of that strength has been removed. The mission, the purpose; it feels different. It feels like everything I am doing is for survival, and not for the bigger picture.

It's like I am reading the Lord of the Rings, but starting with Return of the King instead of Fellowship of the Ring. The gist is there, and you kind of get what's going on, but trying to fill in the holes is difficult and tenuous at best. I know what I should feel, what I should see, but it's hard to make sense of it. I'm also no Frodo.

When I'm not working on a client or spending time with my family, it's in the quiet moments that the emptiness creeps in. Driving home from work. Quietly laying in bed. Even on a family camping trip, the free time became my own prison, my own personal purgatory. In large part, I find myself horribly distracted by this chasm I keep falling in to. This distraction creates a HUGE wave of apathy or papercuts of sorrow.

It's these in-betweens that are killing me. It's in the in-betweens I see my school family all moving on and excelling in new ways in new places (I am so proud of all of you), and yet I am still grieving, still suffering. Trying to decide who I want to be or who I should be in those moments stings with every second that slips by.

I feel like I am caught in a daily loop, going through the same cycle day to day. I am who I am at home; I am who I am at work. But who is in-between? This cycle is like tripping on the same step day after day, or slipping on the same patch of ice over and over again.

The issue here, like I said, isn't truly about teaching. If that was it, I would just find somewhere else to teach.

As I said, it's not about teaching. That's just the proverbial name on the grave. For me, I think, my problem stems from a sense of belonging, from a sense of purpose. Identity.

You know me. Some of you better than others, but still. We all know I'm not exactly an orthodox person. I have spent the majority of my life looking for a place to call my own, a place that I fit, somewhere I belong. The school was the first place that felt like it could be that place.

In a lot of ways, I found myself during my years there. I didn't have to be anything other than me to have a place there. Maybe it was my coworkers, my friends, my students...I don't know. But I belonged there.

So if I truly did find myself there, why would my sense of belonging disappear without it? Wouldn't it become a part of me? That I belong to myself?

From a rational place, this would be the part where I say that I belong where I am: as a father, as a husband, as a bodyworker. And I do. I love being a dad, and I love the work that I do. But outside of those occupied moments, the in-betweens take their toll.

I know who I am as a father, as the head of my little family.
I know who I am when I am working on my clients.
I can see the overall composition of what this puzzle creates, but it's like I am missing a single piece.

This is the part where some people start thinking "Wow, mental health much?" To which I say, always, and also, dead wrong.

My mind has its issues, but it's my soul looking for comfort right now. There aren't pills you can take to give you a sense of direction or belonging. There isn't really a way to sit on a couch and talk to someone enough to fill in what feels like anti-matter in your sense of identity.

What I am looking for is still the same thing that I've always looked for; my own place in this world. Not as a father, not as a bodyworker, or a musician, an author, or anything else that I do. It's about who I am as a human being.

I belong to my family.
I belong in my field.
I belong in my passions.
Why don't I feel like I belong to myself?

This all feels very trivial to me. I am irritated with myself as I read over these words because I know how they sound. "What the hell does it matter who you are on your drive home from work? Aren't you the same all the time?"

And that, my friends, is the point. Without that sense of identity in the in-between moments, I don't feel complete in all of the identity-solid ones. These holes reduce the stability of the other moments, preventing the feeling of being whole.

I get it. Everyone goes through times of questioning who they are and who they want to be. I'm not vain enough to think that this hard time makes me different than anyone else. But I don't live anyone else's life. I live mine. And right now, I am trying to live it the best way that I can. My life belongs to me, but I am struggling because I don't feel like I belong to my life.

This summer has been truly difficult. I will find my way through the dark days, as I have done my whole life. I will find my way out of Purgatory and back to the land of the living. I will do what I do best; put my head down and go to work. That's the easy part. I will either find the missing piece or carve a new one. These things take time. But today, I will ask questions that may not have answers.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reached out to me over the last few months, shared their love, or just taken the time to check up on me. I have amazing friends. You all mean the world to me. I am so lucky to have you in my life.


Sb.

Broken Arrow

Warning: This is gonna be a heavy one, folks. This is the way a writer processes...well, everything.

There aren't many things on my mind these days. A lot of the day to day feels trivial and unimportant. As I scroll mindlessly through my social media feeds, most of it just glosses past my inner sight and I can't even remember what it is that I've been reading. As the rains have fallen, it feels as if my soul has gone to a screensaver, a perpetual motion machine that I can't seem to stop watching.

This isn't all that uncommon for me. Bipolar/depression//insomnia make ugly bedfellows, but that is something I have dealt with my whole life. What is different is the feeling that fills in the real moments, the ones when the screensaver is turned off.

As some of you know, I'm losing my teaching career in June. I use the word losing because I am not leaving the school intentionally; it was announced that our company was purchased and that all the western schools would be shutting down. My administrators and coworkers (my 2nd family) will all be losing our livelihoods when summer hits. To boot, some of my beloved students will have their educations left incomplete with few options to finish other than transferring. Our staff and students are doing what we can, but it's a raw deal to say the least for all of us involved.

Processing the thought of not teaching anymore has been devastating. I'm still not there. We are talking about the last twelve years of my life learning, practicing, developing, mastering, and falling in love with what I went to school to do. I have poured my life into those walls, spilling literal drops of my own blood (due to an unfortunate whiteboard mishap), crying more tears over successes and failures, over personal trauma and professional anxieties, and I have left everything I have in those classrooms.

I have seen hundreds of students during my time as a Teaching Assistant and as an Instructor. I have had sleepless nights and restless days. I have met some of the most amazing people, some of which have become my dearest friends.

I have taught consecutive days of 13+ hours and worked an insane schedule. I have learned techniques and modalities that may have been teaching a goldfish to climb a damn tree and still found a way to enjoy it. I have studied my ass off to make sure I knew how to answer the student in the back with the piercing questions that I hadn't thought until the query was posited. I have missed reunions, weddings, funerals, birthdays, bedtimes, and all of the other cliches.

And I have LOVED it. And in two months, it will all be ashes, a memory. In a few years, few will remember what happened in those halls. For someone who cherishes legacy the way that I do, it's a bitter pill to swallow.

I always thought when I left the school, it would be on my terms. It would be because I knew that my work was done, that I was satisfied. I have given

My heart is broken. I don't know how else to put it. I have cried more in the last week than I have in the last decade combined. I have seen the light, the fire in my students eyes extinguish, and I know that they see it in mine. Grief and despair are ripping my soul into pieces, and I feel like I am burying myself alive.

And still it's somehow worse, seeing what it is doing to my second family; the faculty and my students.

This is the part where many say "When one door closes, another opens" and "Maybe this is to set you up for something better." Great sentiments, but they don't float right now. I appreciate the intent. However, the thought that keeps coming back to me is that no opportunity will truly fill the void that will be left. It feels like a book that is ending without the last few chapters.

I get it. There are other schools and other places I can teach or work, and I'm well aware of all of that. I'm a talented dude and I know how to put my head down and grind.

The thing is, I'm not really worried about the financial/employment side of things. I'm not stressed about picking up more clients and filling in the holes with writing/music/continuing education/whatever. That was all part of the eventual plan anyway.

It's hard to truly put into characters how I feel about all of this. I'll say it this way: I am good at a lot of things in my life. There are very few that I can say I am great at. I am a great teacher. I love teaching. But the thing I love the most was that I was teaching the same thing that changed me as a person and changed my life into something I am proud of.

I teach people more than just bodywork. I teach them to embrace their passion, to chase the things that set them on fire, and to never take no for an answer. I teach them to prove everybody wrong who doubts them, and to love what they do and why they do it. I teach them the same things that my mentors taught me, with a little style, sarcasm, and a badass hairstyle that has changed more times over the last 12 years that I've lost count. I try to show them that there is a place in this world for everyone if you are bold enough to fight for it.

So, as these tears run down my face, I leave this promise: I am going to give everything I have left to the next 2 months. I will pour all of my anger, my grief, and my passion for what I do into every class until Judgment Day. I will do my best to make my mentors proud, and to give my students the best of what I can do. To make sure that what I have sacrificed so much for over the last decade meant something.

I'm going to be ok. I know that. But it's like the ultimate breakup. Like a death in the family, even. I will move on to something new and do what I have to do. But tonight, I mourn. The tunnel is dark, but I will find my way out. I don't need a light at the end; my fire will burn bright enough.

I would be remiss to leave this without a little gratitude. Thank you to my family and friends who reached out, for your kind and supportive words. They mean the world, even if you spoke/texted them without a response. I will find my way through; thank you for your support. There isn't much anyone can do, save referring a client or two or coming to get a session or even a word or two of encouragement now and then. Any help is appreciated, but we will find our way through.

My wife Keisha has been incredible. I think she is the only one who knows just how much of myself I give to my work. Thanks to my sweet daughter, who does everything a four year old can (including bringing me her teddy bear and blanket) to remove the sting of her daddy's pain. Thanks to my little boy, who is the sweetest and naughtiest little destroyer I've ever seen, but always brings a smile to my face with those big brown eyes and crooked smile (just like mine).

Thank you to everyone who has touched my life over the last 12 years. Alisha Sabin, Nicolle Buchanan, Char (K) Olenik, Jake Jarman, Devin Mitchell, Katy Spencer, Eric Jemison, Heidi Pepinos, Piikea McVey, Jeannette Green, Ronda Tracy, Kristie Kearl, Tanika and Caleb Larsen, Dexter Nye, Cori Halterman, Jessie Tucker, Heather Johnson, Meggie Moe; every single one of you mean the absolute world to me. It was an honor to learn from and work with you.

Jennifer Jones, Melanie Tomco, Cherie Julander, Taylor Boone, Gio Rodriguez, Julianna Boulter, Catherine Bennett, Amber Jensen, Scott Davis, Taylor Lamont, MaKenna Turner, Nicole Wilkey, Crystal Pehrson,  Mckenzie Robinson, Don Liufau, Andrea Alleman, Clairise Casper, Erin Price, Cassie Webb, Nicole Bell, Emma Raynor, Nana Silva,  Emily Powell, Alysia Byington, and anyone I missed (I am so sorry if I did), I love all of you so much. Thank you for being a part of this incredible journey.

Those names are forever engraved on my soul. I can't even begin to list names of my students and colleagues, but I love all of you so much. Here's to us. I will make you proud, one way or another.

I usually end my graduation speeches with a quote from my favorite book series by Terry Goodkind: "Your life is yours, and yours alone. Rise up and live it."

Now it's my turn.

Dear Mykayla

Dear Mykayla,

For 8 years now, I have waited for you.

I have sold guitars, healed injured muscles, graduated college, climbed mountains, written novels, run races, carried burdens, cried rivers, and overcome obstacle after obstacle, all in hope that you would soon arrive. All of this, to ensure that you would have a safe, secure place to call home and a father you could be proud of.

Your mother has waited her whole life for you.

She has worked tirelessly to build a foundation for you. In her own superhuman way, she has built a system of organization and precision that will allow you to have anything you want, if you are willing to follow her lead. She has chased her dreams, and only one has escaped her.

You.

Your mother and I have ached to see your face, to hold your tiny hands, to hear your sweet little voice. We have longed to hold you close when you are scared, to sing you to sleep when you have bad dreams.

For 9 months now, we have expected you.

From a single cell to the size of a watermelon, we've seen you grow. We've told you stories and played you songs. Our thoughts are always with you and being the best parents that we can be.

Little Love, you are the stars in the sky. Your time is coming soon, and we will love you to the moon and back.

Sleep well, little one. Tomorrow is yours for the taking. Or any day after you choose to make your birthday.

And you must never forget
your daddy will always love you.

Always.

New Years Day

Well kids, we did it...The world did not blow up, there was no zombie apocalypse (honestly I'm a little disappointed. I even got a hatchet for Christmas!), and the end of all things did not fall upon us yet. So be it.

Before I get to what I want to write, I thought I would post an update for the few of you who actually know what The Nemesis Diary is...80,000 words, 50 chapters, and more than 250 pages later, it's still not done. What I can tell you is that it will be shortly. Stay tuned. Those of you who don't know what this is, feel free to bounce over to http://thenemesisdiary.blogspot.com and introduce yourself. No, Jared Donovan is not based on me.

Now that all of that business is out of the way, let's talk about what everyone talks about at this time of year: trivial and well-intentioned goals for the next calendar year. Let's spend more time with family. Let's fall in love! Let's lose weight! Let's be a better friend! Let's write a novel!!! (Easy, Steve...you're getting awfully close to something there...)

Yep, it's going to be one of those kind of posts...

For all the good intentions that we have, most of us tend to pick goals that are very difficult to be accountable for. Is there an imaginary bucket somewhere that every time I'm a 'better friend' I get a quarter? Is there a special Tootsie Roll fairy that leaves me treats when I have spent enough time with my family?

In most cases, I don't think there is a Tootsie Roll fairy (although there should be. I'd be a lot nicer I think). I don't think there is a bucket waiting for me to finish being a good friend. What there is and isn't aren't really what I'm looking for anyway. What I am looking for now is purpose. It doesn't matter what the goals we choose are, only that we pursue them to the best of our ability and be accountable for them.

Si vis pacum, parabellum. Latin, for 'If you wish for peace, prepare for war.' I was watching some movies the other night that inspired me to write this. The first film I watched was The Punisher, which is where I got the Latin. Not a surprising choice, I've watched it a lot over the years. I love superhero movies and I also love revenge stories (again, see The Nemesis Diary). But when I heard that phrase, it resonated for the first time. A call to arms of a sort...The next film I watched was Wanted, which is a great show also. But it ends with something that gave me the chills. It ends with the main character saying: I'm taking back power of my own life...what have you done lately?" Goosebumps, kids.

The reason this seemingly random-placed paragraph is in this post is because it is the filter through which I am viewing 2013. What have I done lately? That's what resolutions are all about!

I've failed miserably at some of my previous resolutions, and I'm sure I'll fail again. What I can tell you is that I will not stop trying. This is my word, this is my promise. The Steve you know is changing, evolving, and will not stop until my resolutions...not resolutions, promises are fulfilled. This is my call to arms, even if I am the only one who hears it.

So choose the favorite resolutions. Be vague, and follow through to the best of your ability. That's what most of us do. .

But...remember that you are accountable to yourself, and the only one who will know whether you kept your resolution is you.

But I'm taking back the power of my own life. No excuses; I intend to succeed. And 365 days from right now, I'm going to ask myself one question: What have you done lately?

Let's Hear It for the End of the World!

Well kids, the world is ending in 2 days. Doomsday is upon us. Does that freak you out?

In case you don't know, I have a mild fascination with the idea of the world ending. Don't freak. Call it a social observation. People all react differently to the idea of it, and everyone seems to know how it's going to happen. Macabre as it sounds, it has always been very interesting to me to see how people think it all unfolds.

One of my favorite movies/series is The Terminator, because technology becoming self-aware is awfully good watching. Resident Evil, Zombieland, and The Walking Dead have all made a lot of money based on a zombie apocalypse. You can't go anywhere without seeing something about frickin' zombies these days.

Think of all of the freaky possibilities we have in front of us. The Mayan calendar that has been crazy accurate abruptly ends at 12/21/12. The I Ching prophecy from ancient China (circa 5,000 years old) has an odd pattern in its sequencing that was mapped out in the late 1980s ends on the same date.

Ever read The Bible? It doesn't point at the date, but I can't even tell you how many people have related the Book of Revelations to modern times to me. I've had people tell me that the Antichrist is everyone from Tom Cruise to Obama to Bono from U2. I even heard somone accuse Miley Cyrus. Hannah. Freakin. Montana. Crazy?

How about how the Oracle at Delphi and The Sybill from Ancient Greece have all related apocalyptic endings to the world with oddly familiar characteristics and time? You'll never guess the date they picked.

Not only that, we have astronomers predicting a polar shift at some point, potentially when the Earth is in perfect alignment with the other planets and the sun that only happens once every 25,800 years. Yep, I watch a lot of the Discovery and History Channels...But these are all real things I've seen on the 21 Days of Armageddon (I've DVR'd the crap out of this month...told you I'm fascinated).

That means if you want a scientific explanation, it's out there. If you want religion, that can be found as well. Go figure that they would finally agree on something then the whole world will end. Awesome.

Don't get me wrong; I don't want the world to end. Quite the opposite, actually. I happen to love my life. I am married to the girl of my dreams and I see my family on a consistent basis. I have a killer job, great friends, 9 guitars (ok that's bragging a little), and I even have a way to vent the inner workings of my brain to anyone who cares (yay blogging!). I am amazed on a daily basis by the things that I see in the world and by the people who live in it. I am captivated by some of the amazing technology we have access to, and the great things people are starting to do with it. I don't want Schwarzenegger to show up at my door asking for John Connor, but still.

The reason for this post is not to instigate panic or convince you one way or another that A) the world is ending or B) it isn't. My point is that time is fleeting, whether it ends in 2 days or not. The things that have happened across the nation over the last year have been mindblowing and horrific. The incident in Connecticut last week and the violence in Colorado over the summer have shaken me to my core. The storm that rocked the east coast is still very fresh in my memory, and Katrina still is easy to recall. A friend of mine had to go through the death of his 17 year old nephew who died tragically last week. I can't believe some of the things I have read in the news. Terrifying, awful, and utterly evil in some cases...But at the same time, it makes me think about the time that I do have and what I am doing with my life.

I personally am not overly concerned about the world blowing up on Friday. The Mayans didn't have a thing called Leap Year, which would put their 12/21/12 about 4 years ago. There have been a bunch of 12/21/12s in between their count and ours...once a century in fact, on December 21, **12 each. That's not my point. My point is we need to live our lives like THE WORLD ACTUALLY IS ending in 2 days. But I feel like we should live that way every day, whether tomorrow is the day the world ends or not. As I sit here, 'If Today Was Your Last Day' by Nickelback just came on shuffle...I'm a little creeped out by that particular wrinkle the universe sent me, but the point is driven regardless.

I am a strong believer in manifest-destiny; that what I put out into the world comes back to me. You can call it Karma if you want, or God bestowing blessings out to us if you want. I have my own beliefs, but so does everyone else. If we try to force the world to end in 2 days, I imagine someone will find something that could end it and interpret something to justify it. That's the way the world seems to go.

I don't know how the world is going to end or when and I don't pretend to. I write this now not to preach, not to bluster and posture for you. I'm not trying to offend anybody nor am I trying to stir up anything with anyone anywhere. I write this now because I think we could all use a moment to take a step back and remember what's really important. This is an opportunity to not take things for granted.

Is the world ending in 2 days? Maybe. But maybe it isn't. And even if it does, at the end of all things, what is important? That's your decision. It isn't too late.

Sb.

Wake-Up Call

One of my favorite quotes is "We must accept change as the rule, but not as our ruler." I love this quote because it reminds us that while we can't control that things change, we are in control of the changes we make. My last post was about seeing things differently, about approaching my own life in a different manner. I have tried to do what I committed to do, and have worked hard to make each day a new one and to start fresh each time I wake.

I recieved a post on facebook from an old friend. She is a successful independent writer/graphic designer/just plain awesome person. She had taken the time to create a cover for my novel The Nemesis Diary that I have posted at http://thenemesisdiary.blogspot.com. She has been following it since I started it a little more than 2 years ago, and consistently encourages me to finish it. First of all, I am completely blown away by that gesture. Thanks a million Keary :) Secondly, I have had more motivation to finish than I have had to do anything in a long while.

The reason I bring this up is because of the time of year we are in. It's no secret: I've been called a Scrooge for a lot of my life. I hate Christmas music (especially Mariah Carey), and I've never liked the claymation movies. More than that, I have always had a hard time with what people call 'the Christmas Spirit.' People use this term as a guise to be a good person for 31 days of the year, which I have always been against. There are 365 days in a year; 31 means very little in the grander stage of things. I hate the idea that people only need to be good to each other for 31 days. Call it what you will.

The reason I mention this is because I was completely rocked by what my friend did for me. She didn't have to make that graphic for me; I didn't even ask her to. It was exactly what I would want, don't get me wrong...but it was done completely out of the goodness of her heart. That is the change that I would like to make in my own life; to be able to do things that completely change the landscape of someone's life or mood and not attribute it to the time of year. I want to be able to make a difference through a gesture or thought, because I choose to.

I challenge you to make that kind of difference in someone's life. Today. Now.

Again, I am grateful for the wake-up call. My words could never express the gratitude I feel for a good friend taking the time to reach out to me. It will not go unnoticed.

 If you haven't read Eden by Keary Taylor, I highly recommend it and any of her projects. I hope to be half the author and person she is someday.


Sb

Broken Iris(es)

It seems the busier that I get, the more I neglect things that I once deemed important. I find myself constantly screaming at myself inside of my head to stay the course; to finish what I've started. Unfortunately, the more I focus on tying loose ends, the more that I am staring at unfinished tapestries of what I thought my life would be by now.

Don't get me wrong; I get things done. I set goals and I achieve them. Just not in the order I have intended.

I spend a lot of time reading and revising countless projects, be it The Nemesis Diary or a snippet of a song or prose I cannot complete. Part of me wonders if I will ever be truly finished with this game of cat and mouse that I play with my grown-up life and my creative counter-balance.

But things change.

For one, I feel my vision is clearing. Literally. No, seriously, I had surgery on my eyes and I see better. Apparently I've been seeing things between 20/50 and 20/70 for quite some time. I elected to receive Lasik surgery in place of playing the glasses/contacts game. I have nothing against them, but I felt they weren't the right direction for me. I have been walking around without seeing things as they should be for a while.

I am starting to see I was missing some important things. My physical body was way ahead of my inner scope. Hopefully, this begins a domino effect. I have people in my life that have been neglected but not forgotten. I have friends that I love dearly who I have not spoken a word to in far too long. I have things I need to accomplish that I have left on the back burner.

I am not ok with that.

I'm far from perfect, and I don't pretend to be. But I'm tired of making excuses. I have decided to do something about the scraps of paper that permeate my office and the post-it notes inside of my head. I need more than listening to the voice in my head. Thought without action is willingly accepting your situation.

Let's just say I'm seeing things a little more clearly now.

Sb.

Never Forgotten

As everyone knows, today is the 10 year anniversary of the heinous terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York City and on the Pentagon. I remember very clearly that day. I remember where I was, what I was thinking, what I was wearing, the complete loss of appetite and desire to do anything but stare at the tv...But what I remember the most was the gravity it laid on my soul. What I remember most was my 15th birthday.

Today is now my 25th birthday. I am a quarter-century old. I have changed so much since that morning 10 years ago, but the gravity still sits as heavy as it ever did. Please don't get me wrong; this isn't about me being upset that one of the greatest tragedies of our time happened on my birthday. I'm not naive enough to think that it was a personal affront to me. But ever since that day, birthdays have been a little bittersweet.

One thing I clearly remember was the pain I was in. That year, I had spent the better part of the week coughing up blood and running a fever. I had a nasty little bronchial infection (the bronchial tube is part of the respiratory system i.e. lungs) and felt like I'd been hit by a truck physically. Each breath felt like needles sticking in my lungs and throat, and I was unbelievable exhausted. Then, the tragic events in the East...Suddenly, I felt like the truck came back and ran over me mentally. I was heartbroken at the loss of life and complete disregard for the value of each life that was taken. I was furious that someone could condone what was done, claiming it was what their God desired and that what they did was righteous.

I was horrified by the events of that day; scared to death to go to school when I got better. I had nightmares for weeks. The idea of getting on an airplane was terrifying. As many have said, I will never forget that day 10 years ago.

Now, the real reason I decided to post: I am ok with sharing my birthday with that day. That sounds bizarre, but I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate my birthday than to remember the fallen heroes from that day. For that matter, I am honored to do so, along with remembering everyone affected from that September morning. Heroes transcend time. 10 years, 20 years, 100...It doesn't matter. Those brave men and women gave their lives trying to save everyone they could. They are heroes. I am proud to share my birthday with them as a chance to remember them.

I'm sure you've all thought back to that day; where you were, what you felt...I pray we never forget. As long as I live, I pledge to always remember that day. Things change, scars heal, but the memory remains. Thank you to all those who gave their lives or sacrificed so much. You will never be forgotten.

The Stranger

"Best to keep things in the shallow end because I never quite learned how to swim. I just didn't want to know...Close my eyes just to look at you; taken by the seamless vision. I close my eyes, ignore the smoke...Mistook their nods for an approval; just ignore the smoke and smile."
~A Perfect Circle 'Blue'

It's 5:00 A.M. and I'm wide awake. This isn't new for me. Not at all. But, for once, I know what's keeping me awake. I'm scared to sleep. Bizarre, yes?

It's kind of confusing; sleep is the naturally occurring state to which we go to restore and revitalize the beautiful machine that is our body. For some reason, my body doesn't dig it much. That's all right. I've dealt with it for a while and I'm surviving. What I am struggling with is this dreaming business.

I've had reoccurring dreams ever since I can remember. The most significant one (and one that is extremely reoccurring) begins with me entering a small restroom. The walls are grey, floors are black. Flourescent light on the ceiling, no toilet. Feels musty and dank. I walk to the sink and look up into a faded yet still reflective mirror. I see myself, except it's not quite me. Subtle differences; my eyes are more angular, features more sharpened. My hair is long (no surprise to anyone I'm sure) in both images, but this is where it gets creepy. I grab my chin and pull upwards, like I'm removing a mask. My reflection changes again, sharpening the edges. My eyes darken, and suddenly I have Jack Sparrow eyebrows. Again, I remove a mask. Same result (sharpened features, dark shades overtaking the light). Again, another mask. Then another. Then another. After a few moments of shedding my skin, I turn the sink on and rinse my face, then look into the mirror. I'm staring back at the same image I began with. Then my reflection puts his hands on the wall and starts screaming, but the real me stays silent. Eventually, the real me walks out of the mirror room.

Trust me. I have dream dictionary-ed the crap out of this sucker. I have heard a lot of theories, and they make sense. It's not the dream itself that frightens me though. It's more the unanswered questions that always come up after I have it. Why do I keep having it? What do I need to change in my subconscious? Blah, blah, blah. What it comes down to is that I think I am a stranger to myself. A subtle knockoff of the original. Close enough to recognize, but everchanging based on circumstance.

The worst part of this particular dream is something that caught me off guard recently. Is it really me who walks in to the mirror room or is it my reflection? And which of us is in control?

Go ahead. You try and sleep wondering who it is in your reflection, or if you are the Stranger yourself.

Sleepwalker

Lately I have been consumed by too many things. I haven't had the amount of free time that I'm used to, which is actually a good thing. I am one of those people who likes to be busy. I'm all right with it. I've had time enough to spend with my cute little wife, catch up on a little ESPN, and work on The Nemesis Diary (more is coming, don't you worry). But I feel I've neglected a few things. One of the things that has suffered greatly has been recording my new songs. I aimed to finish "The Next Best Thing", my second full album, by the end of last summer. Yup, I blew that one. I decided I'm not entirely ready to finish it, but I thought I'd leave a little taste of it for any who might be interested. This is my newest song "Sleepwalker."

I see your ghost
every time I close my eyes
I feel you close
when I can’t keep breathing
I hear your voice
When no one’s listening
I found the piece
I didn’t know was missing

And I feel like a newborn again
every time I open my eyes
If you think that I am sleeping
I’m not the one who’s really dreaming

I feel the sun
Wrapped in the shadows
I see the light
Bound inside the dark
The silver line
Has got me turned in circles
I feel so blind
But have we ever really seen?

And I feel like a newborn again
every time I open my eyes
If you think that I am sleeping
I’m not the one who’s really dreaming

In the end
There is only surface
When we drown
Where we find our solace
It’s not the end
We’ve only just begun

And I feel like a newborn again
every time I open my eyes
If you think you know the answers
Look again, I’m not dreaming

Unbreakable

There are a lot of things that happen that I don't understand. Things that I don't think should be able to happen do; things I never thought could happen have; things I hoped wouldn't happen will. I don't like it much. Today was one of those days that I got reminded of this.

I received some heartbreaking news; an old friend of mine, someone I grew up with, someone I even looked up to despite his own struggles, had passed away over the weekend. Worse still, his fiance' of one single night also died. They were in a 4 wheeling accident...I am not going to lie and pretend that he and I were close; but he was a constant during my entire childhood. He was someone I wanted to emulate in a lot of ways. He fought his way out of some extremely difficult things, and I admired him for it. I was rendered speechless by this news of his passing.

I believe in life after death; I believe he and his fiance' are together...but I feel it's the people living that have the hard task. I feel heart-broken for his and her family. I feel ripped in pieces for all of the people who knew him. I didn't know him well and I have shed some tears as I write this. The loss of anyone is tragic; the loss of a friend is heartbreaking. We can share sympathy or empathy and shed our tears and share memories, but we can't bring them back. We can't say the words we never could. We don't get another shot...not in this life at least. These are the scars that we bear not on our bodies, but on our souls.

Although I've dealt with death a lot through my life, I can't shake the same feeling I always get. Something feels...unfinished. Like a movie that ends badly. So many questions unanswered, so many things left undone. I don't do well with death; I never have. I don't think it's something I'll ever do well with. I don't WANT to do well with it. Never leave words unsaid. Never leave space between you and those you care about. Sometimes the opportunity to fill it never comes.

I wrote this next bit a couple years ago after my uncle died. I wrote it for my mother. I've never played it in a show, never shared it with anyone beyond my wife and a few others. I don't know how to express myself the way that I want to, but it seems appropriate for the moment. It's called Unbreakable.

I've tried to be my brother's keeper
but I closed my eyes too soon.
I thought that I was invincible,
Now I'm falling like a star.
In my hands I've held the world
but there's things I can't ignore;
A world of broken dreams
but I don't dream anymore.

I thought that I was unbreakable
I thought that I could take the fall
I'll leave the light on just in case
and you'll be in my heart.

I've tried to find a better way
to open up my eyes to see
that there was nothing left that I could do
but it's hard to carry on
In my hands I've held the world
but now it's nothing but a scar
a world of broken dreams that I can't see anymore
I thought that I was unbreakable
I thought that I could take the fall
I'll leave a light on just in case
and you'll be in my heart...


Rest well, my friend. You'll be in my thoughts, and in my heart.

Let the winds carry you home; blackbird fly away. May you never be broken again. (Blackbird by Alter Bridge)

Words Are Only Words

There are times I catch myself thinking out loud. For some reason, it irritates me. It's not that I don't like the sound of my own voice; more that it's nothing more than hearsay to me. I feel that I'm talking, not acting. I'm a great talker. I probably talk a lot. How much action do I actually take? Not nearly enough. Though I may have the best intentions, acting upon said intentions is sometimes difficult.

Talk is cheap, cut and dry. Anyone can say they're sorry, but until they act to make things right I can't say I honestly forgive their sleight. I am not much for pretending things are better until I see a change. I've never been good at that, and I doubt I'll be much better at it in the future.

But I'm actually all right with that. I've been taught my whole life to forgive and forget. In principle, I love this idea. You get what you give in this life. I absolutely believe in that. But I don't think anyone should be naive enough to keep forgiving and forgetting the same thing over and over again. That falls into something called ignorance.

With all that said, I am a very harsh critic on myself. I've looked back through my blogs and tried to see where I've traveled to in the last year. I don't honestly have an answer to my own question. There were things I really wanted to accomplish this year; I didn't. There are things I thought I wanted a year ago; now I don't. One can say to keep trying to get better. I'm not ok with that. I feel there are 3 Steve Barringtons right now: Work Steve, Home Steve, and Alone Steve. All three have their place, portrayed by the first word of each title. But the lines are blurring; I'm not sure exactly who the composite Steve is.

Worklife and homelife are pretty simple; it's the alone time that bothers me. When I'm alone, I feel like my soul is separating from the rest of my body. I feel like my skin can't hold my soul inside anymore (look for that little ditty in a song to be posted soon). It's exhausting, really. I'm sure others can relate to this...It's rather...uncomfortable. The reason I mention this third self is because he is the one that talks to himself. I seem to sort most things out during these little talks, but I feel like I'm doing a lot of talking lately. It's time to act.

I may not have achieved all of the goals I set early this year, but I'm ok with that. Most of those goals can keep floating into 2011. Sometimes things get in the way. I think the biggest roadblock for anything is a little word we call 'doubt.' But, as I said earlier, it's just a word. Words have power, but only as much as any of us give them. My focus has shifted. My dreams are a little different. My life has it's own course, and I am the captain of my soul. My intention is to attain every single one of my dreams, but, like I said, words are only words.

Lateral Move

Sometimes looking in the mirror reminds me of speaking with an old friend. Someone long removed from my personal life; someone I'd almost forgotten. Mirrors never lie. Our reflections look us in the eye, never stab us in the back, and they never spare the details. I think mirrors have a lot of power. Late at night, sometimes I'll just stand and look in the mirror. Not because I'm beautiful, but more that I feel I need to know myself a bit better. I have spent a lot of my life awake when I should have been sleeping, although lately I feel it's more the opposite.

Life has an interesting way of maneuvering us into different positions for things to happen. People often act surprised when life throws them off track a little, but honestly I don't feel that the 'track' is all that linear. Birds don't fly in a straight line all the time, nor do fish swim directly forward eternally. I have a hard time believing that forward is always the best option.

I've heard the term 'lateral move' a lot lately. Basically it means that you decide on something that doesn't increase your position nor hurt you in the long run. There's nothing wrong with lateral moves; in football, sometimes moving to the outside can open up the field. Others, you get annihilated by a linebacker. Either way, 'lateral moves' are irrelevant. It's the person making the choice that matters.

Don't get me wrong; I definitely think we should be trying to move forward in all aspects of our lives. But I've had a hard time throughout my life at any point that I feel I am just standing still. A mentor of mine has said that even though we are on the right track, that doesn't mean you won't get hit by a train if you're just standing still. That has stuck with me a lot lately. I want to progress, but the opportunity hasn't quite presented itself yet.

So, I will pretend to be a patient person and make a lateral move. I am going to take the time I have before the proverbial train arrives and better myself in ways that don't relate to my ultimate goal. I have songs to write, a book to finish, and a new album to record. I have friends I haven't seen in what feels like a decade and friends I still am yet to make. I have books to read, weight to lose, and projects to finish. I'm making a lateral move.

I know I haven't posted in a while, and that too is something I want to change. Blogs are a great way to vent pent-up emotions, so buckle up. This might happen more than just once every three months. Those of you in my life who support me, I thank you. Those that don't; well, I'll prove you wrong.

Tornado of Souls

The winds of change are blowing, and life is extremely interesting. One of my favorite songs is Tornado of Souls by Megadeth. In the end, that's all life is; a violent maelstrom of ups and downs. I have found peace in the chaos as of late...despite how painful adaptation can be.

I have had a very interesting few months. I have been working like crazy, trying to maintain a regular sleep schedule (failed!), and trying to balance all of my spinning plates...Needless to say, it's been difficult. But anyone that knows me knows that I don't back down from challenging situations. However, little things like blogging and recording often suffer.

I love what I do. I have been a massage therapist for over 2 years now, and I still enjoy doing the work. The beautiful thing is that I don't actually have to be doing the work to enjoy it. I love that when I am in the classroom as a TA, I get to share my love for my work with future massage therapists. Students tend to be a little painful at times, and yes, there are some interesting people who go to massage school, but I love it all the same. My life has been greatly enriched by some of the people I have met and I've also made some incredible friendships with the teachers that I work for. I have had my biggest class load ever this last term, and I've realized just how much I love being there.

We finally moved! Yay! I don't live in a crappy apartment with squishy walls, leaky windows, and broken doorknobs anymore! We've moved in to a basement apartment in Orem, complete with 3 bedrooms, internet, and cable! Let me just say that DVRs are quite possibly the best inventions EVER.

I have found myself struggling mentally over the past little while. That's not really a new thing for me, but it's to a point now that I am getting concerned. I find myself obsessing over little insignificant things that often lead to a horrific night of not sleeping. I have done a bit of research, and it turns out a lot of insomniacs are treated for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I laughed at first, but the wheels have kept turning in my head. I'm starting to wonder if it might be a valid argument for my lack of sleep. Don't get me wrong; I don't freak about washing my hands 1000 times a day or have to have all my clothes color coordinated in reverse alphabetical order...but there are things that I have to check several times a night and things that irritate me if they are out of place. Interesting thought.

I have come to realize just how much I don't know about myself. I spend most of my days watching and evaluating the general public's posture and walking habits, yet I don't take much time for introspection on myself. I consider my inner self a dangerous and foreign person; volatile, manipulative, secretive...apparently, I think I'm a ninja inside :) But keeping yourself in check isn't always a good thing. I've always had a hard time trusting anyone but myself, and a lot of my personal experiences have driven that antitrust even deeper. I find myself wearing the proverbial masks on a daily basis. I wonder just how many people really know me...Who sees through the cracks in the porcelain? Can I?

My blogs are a little erratic...but hopefully this one is semi-relevant.

PS. Batman is so much better than Superman. I've been arguing with a good friend of mine about this, and, since I posted it on my blog, I win. Don't bother arguing. Accept it. It's cold hard fact.

"One More Day"

There are always so many things I want to write about, but never any words to say them. I have had a crazy few weeks, between grading finals and trying my best to get taxes and things in order. But I had a very interesting experience this week and thought I would write it down.

Sometimes working at a massage college is incredible. Sometimes it's wicked difficult. Sometimes I have a hard time getting excited to go to work, and others I can't wait. For most of this last term, I have been having a hard time getting excited. But it wasn't why you might think. I realized the end was coming for one of my favorite classes. When a class graduates, it's bittersweet for me. I make some great friendships with the students, and when they graduate, I know I may never see many of them again. That's hard for me, seeing as I'm not very good at goodbyes.

Yesterday started out pretty typical of a finals week day...I woke up and showered, had a good breakfast (that is only typical TO finals weeks), and left for work. I arrived and saw the familiar faces of the graduating class. They were nervous for their finals, so I gave my usual words of encouragement and told them they'd be fine. What was different was the feeling I had saying those words for the last time. I left them to go to my class, thinking about the road that brought them to this point...one so similar to my own a few years back.

I chose to spend the whole day at the campus with the grads-to-be. I have always felt a bond with this class, and I think they felt one with myself as well. I sat through their final class with them by choice, listening to their plans following graduation. I don't know why I chose to sit through it, but I felt drawn to their classroom all day. I have never done that before. Towards the end, following the little cryfest that is almost every class's last session, I asked the instructor if I could say a few words. I couldn't really think about anything except my own class from 2 years ago, and the words I left them with. I wrote a song the night before my last class, and I decided I would recite the words to this new class, in the same room that last heard them 2 years ago.

How many days will I wait
to find the words I couldn't say?
How many days will it take
for the sun to chase the clouds away?
How many nights I lay awake
to see the stars before they're gone
How many more will I wait
before I know I'm not the only one

Don't say goodbye
I'll remember, I'll remember you
Don't say goodbye
I don't want to be just a memory
Don't say goodbye
We still have one more day

As I recited those words to the class, the unthinkable happened; my voice broke, and tears ran down my cheeks. The class then lined up and gave me hugs and said thank you, but I could barely speak and tell them how proud I am of them. My emotions overtook me I guess. I didn't really know what to think...You see, I don't show most of my emotions to the students or the rest of the world for that matter. I don't know what it was, but the unity of the class mirrored so much of my own class, and being in the very same room...I don't know...call it deja' vu maybe. I don't know why it happened, but I guess I'm glad that it did. It's nice to be reminded of the things I felt for my class so long ago and that I still feel them.

I don't want anyone to think I don't feel strongly for each and every class that has come through those doors. But the circumstances just created the right chemistry for the moment. I have since decided to record the song "One More Day" and post it for each and every person that has come in to my life because of UCMT, and for that matter each and every person to come in to my life at all. I love each of you. If I haven't said it lately, thank you. Those words are for you.

Resolved

I've decided to make a concrete list of resolutions this year. I don't really know why; I just felt like it. Hopefully I will keep them :)

1. I want to play at least 5 shows this year. Be it by myself or with a band, I feel I need to stop talking about it and start playing again. Performing is kind of a drug; sometimes you just need to be in front of people and make an idiot out of yourself. More than anything, I need to prove to myself that I'm not a poser. I think this is doable based on the math; a show every two months or so, with wiggle room for a third month if needed.

2. I am going to record another album this year, possibly two. I have so many new songs written, and so many I would like to re-record now that I know what I'm doing. As I lay down the tracks I can add so much to them, i.e. vocal harmonies, solos, and various other dynamics I can't do by myself. I also have a very cute wife with a very good voice, and I have a few songs she sings with me that I'd love to share. Be excited.

3. I would love to be mostly out of debt by the end of the year, but that probably won't happen. This is my long term goal...Borrowed money isn't and never will be my money. I don't like taking money from anyone that I didn't earn, but it is a necessary evil when your car dies/you go to massage school/blah blah blah...Basically, I don't want to owe anyone anything. I'll keep this one for a few years I imagine.

4. I plan on getting a massage, a GOOD massage, at least once a month. I need it to repair the wear-and-tear on my body from doing massage, not to mention the stupid things that happens to my body. I tend to fall on the ice a lot, trip down the stairs (or up the stairs), and a million other hilarious-yet-costly blunders. If you need all the reasons massage is good for you, just ask. I could write a novel on it.

5. I want to finish The Nemesis Diary. For those of you who don't know, The Nemesis Diary is a story that I've been writing for the last few months. It's posted on http://thenemesisdiary.blogspot.com, and I would love any comments you have. It has been very good for me to dust off my creative writing mind and focus on a story again. I dream about it :).

6. There are a few other things I want to do for sure, but they are more on a personal level. Things I'd like to change about myself, my attitude, etc. I'm sure we all have these to some degree, but I have put mine off for far too long. Pay attention, I might surprise you in the near future.

7. This is a little one...I am thinking I want to try acupuncture for my insomnia/depression. I don't know much about it, but a good friend of mine recommended it to me. Some of you know that I am terrified of needles, but I am getting really sick of relying on pills that work only half the time. I am in control of my life, not my fears. I will not let them rule me, especially when it's something that might work.

Thanks for reading! Now go to The Nemesis Diary and tell me what you think!

just kidding...

Hey so I'm retarded and wrote the wrong web address for my story...it is actually http:/thenemesisdiary.blogspot.com

I really would appreciate any input you might have.

Nemesis Diary

I have started working on a new story. I haven't flexed my creative writing muscles in a while, so I thought I would give it a shot. I would appreciate any and all input and criticism.

I am really excited to be doing this, so I started a new blog just for my story. It's called The Nemesis Diary. It will be told from the perspective of a man known as Nemesis, who is not really what you'd call a 'hero.' You'll have to read it and let me know what you think.

www.blogspot.com/thenemesisdiary

Add me, and I'll keep writing as I get time.

Note to Self

Dear Steve,

As gorgeous and ridiculously intelligent as you are, I have something I must bring to your attention. You are a complete and utter moron sometimes. I know it is difficult to hear this, but we both know that it's true.

I am extremely impressed with how you achieved your goal of a month without soda or caffeine. You dropped ten pounds, and proved that you could do it to all of the naysayers out there. It sucked, but you did it. I am also happy you are back on the drinks; the neighbor kids don't seem to be as frightened of you...

That was the good part. Now, why you are an idiot...Firstly (is that even a word?), you took a ten day trip to California. That wasn't the dumb part...the dumb part was that you knew about it for months ahead of time, and still managed to skip that whole saving money thing...it was less about going on vacation for ten days, and more about not working for ten days. Granted the economy kind of kills a lot of business in the massage world, I'm sure you could have saved money by skipping out on the Carl's Jr. and enjoying/choking down cereal instead. Nice.

Then there was that whole thing with being a psycho...medications are expensive! Not really your fault, but that still doesn't make it a good idea to not take your anti-anxiety/sleeping pills. This will lead you to a horrific pair of nights without sleep, and encourages that nasty 3 hour panic attack that hit you around 2 AM the other night...Seriously? Did you fall on your head and get stupid?

And to cap it all off, you were lucky enough to not pay attention to all the beautiful *cough, cough* corrosion building up on the contacts of your truck battery...This leads to a DEAD battery, and a fun time of cutting off one contact and paying $85 for a new battery. Good thing your dad is good with cars eh?

So...what have we learned? With you, probably nothing...however, you probably have even more issues than you first thought...you are writing a blog to yourself dude...good luck with that.

Sincerely,
Steve