The Write Stuff

Somewhere between being sick...

moving into a new house...

having writers' block...

getting offered a job interview...

and then having that offer rescinded... 

restarting my own version of the Atkins Diet...

getting a blister from shoveling snow... 

and watching the Super Bowl.

I haven’t published a blog in five days.

And it is killing me.

But it's not due to not trying.

(Two negatives makes a positive.)

In fact, in those five days, I wrote two blogs.

Two completely different blogs.

But neither one was right.

And you deserve right.

One blog was about a miserably sleepless night I recently had.

A night where I contemplated, but ultimately rejected, my maiden voyage into the land of Xanax.

You see, I had knots in my stomach like I had done 60 million sit-ups.

But that’s not possible.

Only Herschel Walker could do that.

But you can only stare at the ceiling for so long.

So finally I turned to the drug I have used and abused for the last 14 months.

It’s called writing.

I wrote a blog about exactly how I was feeling at exactly that moment.

It went a little something like this:

If there was ever a night to try the X-factor.

This would be it.

I could be sleeping right now.

Instead of writing.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a good thing.

Writing has been the best medicine any doctor could’ve prescribed.

It has bailed me out more times than I can count in the last year.

In fact, with every hit of the keyboard I can actually feel the wind coming back into my sails.

Or maybe somebody opened the window when I wasn’t looking.

I’m really glad that most of my stories are funny.

Or hopefully funny.

Because that’s who I am.

A guy who just wants to laugh.

And make people laugh.

I have so many things to be happy about.

I couldn’t count them on the hands of an octopus.

If octopi had hands.

And it makes me feel like a selfish fool that I can’t break this funk that I am in.

My kids have tried to break me.

Fortunately they think I have a fever.

My wife has tried to break me.

She knows the truth.

And it hasn’t set her free.

She is sitting next to me trying to find the right words to say.

Or not say.

I wish it was that simple.

Somehow at the end of my writing, all 673 words.

I felt better.  A lot better.

I still couldn’t sleep.

But the knots had gone away.

Writing is like Tabasco sauce.

It goes with everything.

A few days later I tackled the latest twist and turn in my pursuit of employment.

Recently I had a business meeting.

Not a job interview.

Just a meeting.

At this meeting, we talked about my life.

Their company.

And our business.

We never talked about a specific job opening.

Because there wasn’t one.

This particular meeting was with a very high ranking person in my industry.

I traded in a bunch of favors and a Pete Rose rookie card to get her email address.

I was shocked when she responded.

Maybe she thought I was somebody else.

But either way, this was my chance to shine.

And apparently I did.

About twenty minutes in she said... 

“It’s not often that great people occupy the couch you are sitting in for meetings like the one we are having.”

(Did she just call me “great?”)

“Does that mean that I am great?”, I responded.

My response was one part humble, one part tongue-in-cheek and seven parts PLEASE SAY YES.

“Yes.”

“You are great,” she said.

Holy ego boost Batman.

Upon hearing this, I did what any bashful person would do.

I threw both of my arms into the air like I had just completed a 149-yard touchdown pass.

Being called “great” in an interview, I mean meeting.

Wow!

But what did it really mean.

Well, in this case, it meant that six weeks later I had heard nothing from her.

Nothing.

Not a word.

Until a few days ago.

Out of nowhere she emailed me.

SHE emailed ME.

“I wanted to check in to see what you are up to?”

Um, nothing, absolutely nothing, positively nothing, I’ve got more free time than the greeter at WalMart.

I thought to myself.

She then asked if I would be interested in...

YES.

Interested in _______, fill in the blank.

The answer is still the same.

YES.

But in this case, I actually was REALLY interested.

Dream job, maybe not.

Great job, definitely.

Job!

I was going to wait three days to respond to her note.

Like they taught me in Swingers.

But instead I responded in three hours.

And I said I was very interested.

Not interested.

VERY interested.

Too eager I suppose.

About an hour later she replied back.

And said she had jumped the gun and that this wasn’t the right job for me.

But you called me GREAT.

Actually, I had to agree.  On the job not being right part.

But she also said she will stay in touch.

SHE will stay in touch with ME?

Nice.

Hey, the fact that I’m even on her radar is the victory here.

And that will help me sleep tonight.

Deep Thoughts

Every night, at about the same time, I get a text.

Actually, it is not really a text.

It is more like a pep talk.

And it is not just for me.

I’m guessing it is for a bunch of people.

It comes from someone I consider a celebrity in the sports world.

It’s pretty cool seeing his name pop up on my phone.

Every night.

I’m not really sure how I made it onto the list.

Even though at one point we sorta worked together.

And he seemed to like my work.

But it doesn’t really matter how I got there.

The fact is I got there.

Now let’s be honest, would this nightly motivational text be nearly as cool if it came from Joseph Schmo?

No.

And even though that’s a crappy answer, it’s an honest answer.

But each night, around the same time, my phone starts buzzing.

Or dinging.

Or something to notify me that it is time for the Tony Robbins Inspirational Quote of the Day.

Well actually, Mr. Robbins has not made the cut.

Yet.

But the list of those who have been quoted is wide ranging.

Vince Lombardi.   Henry David Thoreau.  Ralph Waldo Emerson.   Charles Schwab.  George Bernard Shaw.

George Bernard Shaw?   I loved him on CNN.

It’s a veritable who’s who.

Well, in some cases, more like...

WHO?

Last night’s quote came from someone named Mark Victor Hansen.

His website calls him “America’s Ambassador of Possibility.”

I always thought he was the father of the MMM Bop kids.

Anywhoo... Mr. Hansen’s quote read like this:

Don’t wait until everything is just right.  

It will never be perfect.

There will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions.

So what.

Get started now.

With each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self confident and more and more successful.

Inspiration.

What a concept.

I have been known to inspire from time to time.

And I have certainly been known to need inspiration from time to time too.

If you don’t believe me, read my last blog.

But the bottom line is a little positive energy has never hurt anyone.

Unless the positive energy is natural gas and somebody is smoking a cigarette five feet away.

But that’s a different story.

The important thing here is that my celeb friend is just trying to spread some love.

Paul and John did it.

Barney did it.

And you did it too.

MANY of you.

The response I got from my last blog was overwhelming.

As I responded to many of you, the support you showed me left me without words.

And I am supposed to be the writer.

I heard from some of  you I know.

I heard from some of you for the first time.

I heard from my amazing therapist, who probably knows me better than I know myself.

I was told to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I was told to keep writing.  I was reminded we are not made of wood.

I was even told by a loyal reader to give Prozac a chance.

And I thank you for all of that.

Like re-gifting the box of chocolate, it’s the thought that counts.

When I started struggling with sleep a few weeks ago, I went to my doctor to get some help.

I left with a new friend.

Her name is Xanax.

30 tablets.

And as of this moment, I still have 30 left.

As I told a wonderful reader who reached out to me for the first time.

I’m not sure if that is a victory or not, but I feel good that I’ve been feeling good.

I hope this doesn’t sound like a disclaimer for an infomercial.

But the words I express in my blog are my words.

And even though they reflect how I feel, they do not necessarily reflect how I feel every minute of every day.

I’m really glad I wrote the last blog.

And I meant every word I said.

I cleared it with my wife ahead of time to make sure she didn’t get ambushed by the paparazzi.

But the bottom line is I have good days and bad days.

Good minutes and bad minutes.

Just like you.

But the important thing is to keep moving forward.

And it doesn’t really matter where your inspiration comes from.

As long as it keeps coming.

Even if its a text message.