Obstacles- Journal Entry 9/4/16

So what’s next?

I suppose a question mark is grammatically correct, but it’s almost a rhetorical question or pointless statement. I’ve been asking it for years.

The last answer I had was to spend $100K on an RV and hit the road. Yeah… isolation will help my depression and stagnant lifestyle.

A few things must happen before anything really gets done and since I don’t have an answer to my own question / statement, it’s fitting to focus my power on the obstacles instead.

Obstacles One: I really don’t like working out. One would think as much as I love sex and life and dating and beautiful women and food that I’d have a strict regiment to support the cause. It’s not surprising I don’t though. I’ve never enjoyed working out, or sweating, or being in a meat-market gym full of egos and chlamydia.

I never had to work out as a teenager. I was always strong and fast (enough) and built like an Irish boxer. I remember lifting 250 pounds once and wondering what the big deal was. I bet 125LB would hurt now.

As much as I fear being my father, I sure am horrified at the prospect of looking like him too, but do nothing. When a lover told me I was starting to look like him, it was an emotional kick to the balls. How dare she point out the obvious.

Here are the benefits to crumbling Obstacle One: Look better naked, have better skin, do more things outside, raise confidence, clear the mind, less stress, more structured day, better clothes, less tired/exhausted, more productive, more sex, more dates, more beautiful women, better metabolism, live longer, be happier, eat more (and so on!!!).

How much time does it take out of my not very busy day of fucked up priorities and procrastination?? Seriously, an hour to an hour and a half. That’s it. Minimum.

What are the benefits to keeping Obstacle One in place? I get to journey further down the spiral.

Obstacle Two: My addiction to Grizzley Wintergreen. It’s an addiction of Olympic gold — an addiction that affects my entire quasi-routine, if you can call it that.

How long have I been addicted? That’s a great question and the answer is embarrassing. 8th Grade. 1993. 14 years old. 23 years ago this time of year. I quit for about 3 months or more — hell…. maybe even longer, but I went back to it like a dumb ass. The only reason I quit was to out-do my then wife in her quest to stop smoking. Such a me thing to do. And funny enough, the urge to out-quit her remains. She would lord it over me in a Pretty-Bird heartbeat.

So… can and will I do it? What are the steps? Do I plan ahead? Wake up and flush the shit down the drain? When do you know you’re ready?

Here are the benefits to crumbling Obstacle Two: Whiter teeth, cleaner car, more money in my account, cleaner glassware, always pay at the pump, free myself from addiction and emotional slavery, and slay the biggest monkey I’ve ever carried. And women just don’t dig dippers… no matter what they tell you.

Obstacle Three: Sex, Drugs and Rock N Roll. Okay… that’s kind of a lie and just sounds cool. I’m only really owning the sex & rock n roll parts. Drugs stopped being cool in my 30’s.

Typical memory of last weekend: Later, at the party, I asked “how’s that passive aggressive thing going for you?” It’s so much easier to address serious matters while holding a bourbon and a charming smile. I didn’t know her name or her story but the background music was sexy and she was a redhead. Check and check. The Uber ride to her place was the best part of the night.

24 Hours later… another girl, another bar and I was scalping over-priced tickets at the Ryman for a night out with a girl I couldn’t remember was Kathy or Katie. Tinder or Bumble?

That sums up my 3 years post-divorce. Music and mischief.

Since I was a prepubescent boy, all I could think about was music and girls. I’d choose them over sustenance, bro-code, organized sports and valuable me-time. A lyrically charged ballad about a pretty girl was my kryptonite. I could relate. I was that song. My crush was everything. My teenage life, an ever-evolving White Snake video. On the bright side, if you can measure a man on how much he loves, my mom would be proud.

As a grown ass man, the money I spend on whiskey, women and live music is a Country song in itself. Let’s face it… a few drinks, interesting / beautiful people and live music make for memorable nights, but not long term growth. It’s not a bad thing to attend concerts and support your favorite artists, but not being able to say no to a Ticketmaster email sale and always buying 2 tickets (regardless of having a date or not) isn’t exactly healthy behavior. And that sort of compulsion — being led by my penis and seduced by erotic desire, often ends up in me having relationships with partners whom I share no common interest.

Here are the benefits to crumbling Obstacle Three: Obviously, more money in the bank for things that really matter in life (travel, my kiddo, family etc.), and less distraction from my focus of being around healthy, fun people that respect one another and aren’t on a marriage or kid timeline. Having the strength and certainty to spend time with myself and my inner dialogue, a clearer (and cleaner) mind to process my mistakes and my triumphs and giving myself the quiet space needed to reframe my story and focus on overcoming obstacles and finding meaning.

And nothing will happen for me until I break them.

So I guess I answered my first question.