Cold Feet

I met this gorgeous woman the other day while ordering coffee and it occurred to me that I should probably ask her out.  I could tell she was into me and there seemed to be little to lose as it wasn’t a place I usually frequent, so worst that happens is I embarrass myself and stop going there.

Well I took the chicken-shit path and left without doing anything and now I can’t get her out of my head.  I see attractive people all the time and quickly forget them, so my inability to forget her is troubling.

I got off work early and went back to the shop but she was already gone.  I went again two days later to no avail. And a third time today. Eventually I’m going to run into her again and figure out if this is all one-sided. Either way, it’ll be good to clear my conscience.


I was pretty tired after today’s workout and immediately fell asleep. I dreamt about snakes. Lots of snakes.  Probably in the hundreds. They were all baby snakes and I was at work, supposed to be doing my job. But I tried avoiding them and looked for an area without them.  I never found one.  I eventually scared myself awake and thought about what it could mean.

I remember clearly in the dream that it was mating season.  And after thinking about the dream it dawned on me what it was about.  I’m also running from mating season in my waking life.

I’m in the prime of my life, at my most attractive, and I have made zero effort to capitalize upon this.  I haven’t made the best choices in love (mostly lust) and I fear I have little objectivity in that regard.  Thus I’ve stayed as far away as possible.  And even further in some cases.

My last serious relationship spiraled into my deepest, darkest depression and nearly killed me.  I’ve got scars aplenty and haven’t tried to balm them.

But these wounds aren’t getting any better on their own and something’s gotta give.


I’m going to be moving back to SoCal in a few months and the thought terrifies me.  Well, more so the implications than the thought but whatever.

I’ve got a good situation here.  I like my job, I like my friends, I love my gym.  I’ve got enough free time to pursue my own forms of pleasure and comfort, and I’ve got enough money to be able to save a little every month.

But these things don’t make me happy.  My fear is that I will bring that unhappiness with me and nothing will change except my circumstances.

But I’ve studied lots of different lives, the ones that have impressed me the most, and they all took a chance in some form or fashion.  If you never make the leap you’ll never know the landing.

Tucker Max once wrote, “The only way to know you’re walking the right path is to walk that path” and it’s been my guiding ethos.  It’s the calmness in my ocean of negativity.


I quit smoking pot a little over a month ago after being a consistent smoker for ten years. It feels weird because I’m pro drugs, just not pro addiction. Turns out I was falling more and more into the latter category.

I noticed I wouldn’t go out, even if there was something I should be doing (like buying groceries) because I’d feel ultra self-conscious.  It’s hard enough to get the motivation to go out in public sober, nearly impossible otherwise.

I’ve tried quitting a few times over the years but what finally got me serious was my lack of dreams. Not in the metaphorical sense, but literally. A common side-effect to pot is losing one’s ability to recall dreams. I’ve discussed this with many people and it seems like nearly everyone experiences this.

Since I quit I’ve had intense dreams every night without fail. Some keep me awake and in sweats but I’m okay with that. I feel that dreams are more than just insignificant data being processed by the brain; they are an integral part of learning what your hopes and fears are. Without dreams you may not really know why you are feeling what you feel but with dreams you cannot hide from the truth.

It was through a dream that I learned I was tired of my job, or rather my job was exhausting me. I love my job, but some aspects of it make me miserable, even when I’m at home. I’m not one to want to carry my work with me when I leave. It was beginning to affect all areas of my life. A dream pointed out to me that there was another way.

I let it sit for a while and I got progressively more depressed until I finally had to do something about it. It was either change or blow up, and I’ve seen the latter happen to damaging effect so it was certainly not going to be that. I told my superiors that I wanted to drop down to a lower position.

Today I finally got to see the result of that conversation and it felt incredible.

Listen to your heart or watch as it gets ripped out.


Just finished my second year of doing the Murph workout.  It consists of:

1 mile Run
100 Pull-ups
200 Push-ups
300 Squats
1 mile Run

If that looks like a lot, it is.  Last year I wasn’t able to do the pull-ups or push-ups RX (as prescribed) and had to scale them down to an easier movement.  This year I not only did them RX but with a faster time.

Hard work pays off.


I’m very good at setting goals.  And somewhat terrible at achieving them. I’m getting better with age and experience, but one constantly eludes me: writing.  That’s probably the only reason I even keep this page up; it’s something to do.

I’ve always considered myself a writer, yet seldom write anything.  In school, I would get amazing grades in English. It didn’t matter if it was dealing with parts of speech or a book report or whatever.  I could bullshit my way through to an “A” effortlessly.  Maybe that’s why I struggle so much now, because everything I write still sounds like bullshit to me.  I never had to try very hard and people were impressed.

It’s much harder to impress yourself.

But whenever I read a good book or see a good movie, it generates new ideas in my head and I think, “That would be a good story.”  And there it sits until it dies.  If I had a bucket for all my unused ideas…

But at least I’m practicing a little bit here and there.  One day I’m going to have to try this for real.