I was searching for inspiration for something to write today and I stumbled upon this little gem.

Below, you’ll find an entry from my private journal, and although the circumstances are slightly different now, the core ideas within it are as relevant as ever. I wrote this just after I quit a job that I left my original job for.

This post has reminded me of the therapeutic effect that writing has on me. Not only that, but I can see that my best stuff comes out when I’m writing without fear.

The number one cause of shitty writing is fear.

So many people, myself included, are too scared to write exactly how they feel because of the fear that what they create will be silently critiqued and judged. It takes a certain type of person to put out truly authentic emotions without regard, and not many people are willing to do this because being vulnerable has a way of making you feel weak.

Fuck that. 

Being vulnerable releases weak energy and frees your mind to begin the process of becoming strong. Being vulnerable takes courage and bravery–two characteristics that are the complete opposite of weakness.

Sharing this post is my first step towards creating more authentic work.

The passion and energy that I felt when re-reading this was real as fuck and I’m glad I took the time back then to capture the frustration and anger that I had.

This is unedited and raw, but I want to create more work like this in the future.



Just do it. Just shut the fuck up and write.

Quit thinking about whether or not it’s going to be good. Quit worrying about style or spelling. Just sit here and write a thousand words.

What does it mean to be a man? Personally, I’m extremely dissatisfied with how my life has turned out right now. I feel like I’ve wasted the past 7 years of my life chasing dreams that never came to fruition.

It’s incredibly difficult for me to even sit down and write in the same caliber of what my writing used to be. To top it all off, I’ve found an amazing woman to be my girlfriend. She’s incredible beyond words. I could sit here and type ten thousand words about how much I love her, and it wouldn’t come close to how she makes me feel.

You know what’s terrible about that? It makes me feel unworthy of her. I’m sick and tired of “wishing” that I was well off and situated with a great plan on how to live my life, or how to become successful, or how to be a man worthy of the kind of love that she’s giving me.

I feel like she’s embarrassed by my lack of accomplishments. She probably isn’t, but if she is, I don’t blame her. I’ve done plenty of things in the past, and a ton of people have complimented me on my potential, but what do I have to show for it?


  • With my fitness, everything has fallen off the ball. There goes three years of my life.
  • With my writing, everything has fallen off the ball, there goes another three years of my life.

I’m so angry with myself that with every attempted endeavor, I’ve fallen short of fucking closing the deal. I’ve fallen short of gaining some kind of tangible result. When I did get some kind of tangible result, I’ve let it all fall off the fucking ball, and now I feel as if I’m left with nothing.

It’s depressing to write like this, or to expunge this type of negative prose, but fuck it. This is what’s on my mind, and I haven’t written shit for the past few months.

A lot of what I’ve been doing lately has been escaping. I quit my job yesterday because I noticed how I found myself escaping into it to make excuses for myself to not pursue my passions.

What are my passions?

I love to read and write. I love to run. I love to talk to people and make them happy. I love to make fitness goals and accomplish them. What makes me depressed is the fact that I stopped doing what I love. I stopped doing everything that I know made me happy.

So, you big fucking loser. Am I just going to sit here and waste my fucking life away? Am I going to cry onto this keyboard like a little bitch? There’s a reason why you quit your job. There’s a fucking reason why you’re forcing yourself to take all the time you need to really look at yourself and fix this stupid problem of NOT doing all the things that you love doing.

You quit your job because you said FUCK WAITING. Fucking being patient with my dreams. FILL YOUR LIFE WITH THINGS THAT YOU LOVE. This pain that you feel right now is nothing more than the negative motivation that you need to HURL your sorry ass out of this incredible funk that you’ve been in.

YOU know that you’re fucking unstoppable when you’re happy. So do whatever it takes to make yourself happy. When you’re happy, everything goes well. Everything falls into place. Words drip out of your mind and through your fingertips. You create the best work when you’re happy.

Quitting your job was a step in the right fucking direction towards happiness. Leaving Snug was the best fucking thing you could have done to help you realize that. Leaving Village in such a short amount of time and so abruptly was your subconscious way of pushing you harder and harder to get this shit moving.

You have the time now. There is no excuse. Forget about the past as it was. The now is all that matters. Right now, you have the whole world in front of you. You have the ability to learn anything you need to gain success.

You need to focus on daily goals. You need to focus on developing habits to accomplish all daily goals. You need those daily goals to satisfy your weekly goals, and you need those weekly goals to determine the effectiveness of your months.

No more escaping. You need to budget your passions in a timely fashion. You need to create. ALWAYS BE CREATING. Document the frustrations as well as the accomplishments. Fuck our past, you can’t do anything about it.


You’ve made mistakes. You’ve taken risks, and they’ve failed. All those failed attempts have given you wisdom and insight as to how to approach things with a better sense for success. Apply that knowledge now. Make a fucking plan and execute. Execute harder than you’ve ever executed before. Be decisive. You have now, what you’ve never had before: the experience of failure in all the things you wanted to pursue, but more importantly, the knowledge of how you got failure.


One step at a time. Direct your laser focus on one step at a time. Document it. Show how your steps add onto each other. Document it. Work hard as fuck man. You got this. You NEED THIS. If anything, if you fail again, you’ll fail and be buff as fuck. You’ll fail having written tens of thousands of words. You’ll fail having made hundreds of videos. You’ll fail having met hundreds of people. Failure is fine, why? Because failure will not take away the work that you’ve put into yourself. Failure does not expunge effort. Failure is the barrier that keeps the weak from progressing. Winners are winners because they’re amazing at failing over and over again until they win.

You could waste time crying about how much you’ve failed in life. Or you could shut the fuck up and try harder.

You got this bro.



My last two posts took just about 90 minutes each to design, write, and edit. Today, that time and mental effort aren’t readily available so fuck it.

It’s my blog. I do what I want.

I’m just about done with “Achieve” by Dr. Chris Friesen Ph.D. and my other three books just arrived today.

I’m going to dive into Tim Ferris’s “Tools of Titans” first because I think it’ll give me a much broader range of topics to cover in order to start planning my upcoming challenges, but I’m equally excited to dive into Michael Bungay Stanier’s books after thumbing through them for a few minutes.

Getting new books is always exciting.

I’ve always been a huge fan of audiobooks, but there’s something unique about holding the information that you’re about to consume in your hands. I wish I could have all the audiobooks that I’ve completed in their physical form to have a bookshelf of mental trophies, but that’ll have to wait until I start making some decent cash.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the format of my upcoming year of challenges. It might not be 12 back-to-back challenges as I had planned. It would be best to have a week of planning before each challenge and a week after to distil all the lessons that I accumulate throughout the month.

This means I’ll have two weeks between challenges to taper off and prepare for the next month-long evolution.

  • Each challenge will have a specific endpoint goal and a hypothesis on how to achieve that goal.
  • At the beginning of each month, I will develop a plan to execute and list all the tools that will be used for the challenge.
  • The challenge itself will be the actual test for my hypothesis.
  • I will collect data as best as I could throughout my experiment in order to measure my progress and manage my variables.
  • At the end of each month, I’ll gather and interpret that data to make a definitive conclusion for the results of my month-long experiment.

The overall goal is to make each challenge transparent and easily repeatable for anyone who may want to try it. My results and findings may help those who undertake similar challenges in the future to modify their experiments to reach better conclusions.

Anyway, that’s the fucking plan.

Now, I’m going to dive into this book and enjoy the rest of my evening.


A bad day

Today is not mine.

I fucked up and slept late yesterday, even though I knew I had work early in the morning.  I didn’t realize how tired I was going to be after work and took a nap. That nap time took up all my writing time.

  • I don’t have time to properly care for my dog.
  • I don’t have time to sit down and come up with something fun to write about.
  • I don’t have time to rest.
  • Not only don’t I have the time, but my energy is completely drained.

I used to have a lot of time for myself to pursue my challenges, but not anymore. I really need to figure out how to manage my time to be happy while working full-time, properly care for my dog, being in a relationship, and pursuing my reading and writing goals.

It doesn’t look like it’s a lot when I write it out like that, but I haven’t had a day for myself in a long time. It slowly starting to build up within me that I really need a break from everything.

Being in a relationship takes up a lot of time.

I need to figure out how to make this work and still have time for me to do my shit. I just can’t catch a rhythm with myself to get things done. I’m constantly working on my relationship, that my dog, my goals, and my time to recover and rest are all suffering.

I need some fucking solitude.

The longer I hold it off, the more bitter I’m getting as a person. I don’t like this post because it’s so negative, but I have to write something for today. This is what comes out of me when I have 20 minutes to write some half-assed shit.

I don’t feel like I deserve to do fun things unless I know I’ve hustled enough for myself. But here I am again, spending my time doing things that feel good right now, but don’t lead towards moving myself away from this shitty job and terrible daily routine.

I’m the happiest guy in the world and lately, I just haven’t been so happy.

Can you tell? Haha fuck.

I could cry and complain about it all I want, but no one gives a shit. Tomorrow is another day, and even though that day has already been committed to someone else, I’ll have another chance at figuring this all out.


I’m taking this thing way too seriously.

Just one year ago, I was creating content at a rate of four legitimate posts a week, with one long-form project every 2-3 weeks. What the fuck happened to my passion for creating shit? Why has it been so difficult for me to sit down and pound away at my keyboard?

I remember long nights of spewing mental diarrhea onto my computer screen and just hammering at it over and over, churning those shitty collections of words into something just a little bit less shitty.

I’d buff out redundant sentences, meaningless modifiers and rework my prose so that my shit would shine just enough to see my stupid face grinning back at me.

Back then, during my dark Tumblr era, I wasn’t trying to prove shit to anyone.

I was writing for myself so that I could read it the next day and pat myself on the back. I was devouring insane amounts of content, which in turn, would fuel the furnaces of my creative mind to forge my naive thoughts into state-of-the-art opinions.

Writing and creating videos was my meditation.

It was never an obligation or a task that I had to accomplish. I never cared about having an audience. In fact, I was abhorrently opposed to the idea putting myself out there because I hated how most social media platforms would instantaneously change the high personal value that I had about my work, into shitty metrics of likes and views.

Because the success of a post on social media is defined by such shitty metrics, there’s absolutely no incentive for anyone to routinely post anything of depth and quality. My Facebook feed has been reduced to 15 second long videos overlaid with clickbait meme-like captions.

But, this is where my problem lays.

Writing gets you into your head. Writing has this way of distilling all the unrelated floating thoughts in your head into fully formed ideas and concepts. For me, I could get so caught up in striving for higher quality thoughts and reaching into the depths of my mind, that I end up alienating myself away from the rest of the world.

It’s like coffee.

You can love coffee and know just enough to avoid the really bad shit and get something decent. You know, like how most people are.

Or, you can be the coffee asshole who insists that everyone else has shitty taste because they don’t understand that the water must be heated to exactly 210F, poured onto freshly roasted African beans that have been grounded to uniform consistency with a $200 conical burr grinder, with perfected pour-over technique that achieves the least amount of tannins with the complete saturation of grounds.

There’s a balance between being relatable and being a passionate asshole.

There’s nothing wrong with being passionate and yearning for perfection, so long as you can still make room to understand the ways of those who aren’t.

I’ve got to put a focus back on having fun with my writing.

What’s the use of doing it all the time if it isn’t fun and interesting?



For this blog to work, I need to have one fundamental skill down:

Time management.

There’s absolutely no way I could take care of my dog, be a great boyfriend, keep a consistent fitness regime, work full-time, sleep, and create quality content without managing my time more efficiently.

I’ve been trying to “wing-it” for the past few weeks and I just can’t do it.

When you need to eat everything on your plate, you can’t just dive in without a plan. You need a method. You need a plan of attack. My plate has been so full nowadays that I’m setting myself up for failure in all my endeavors if I don’t get this handled.

The primary goal of this blog is to do twelve consecutive 30-day challenges for 2017.

This objective precedes all others. There’s no way I can ever be happy if I don’t have something that I’m doing for myself, at all costs. I’m too much of a giver, and at this rate, I’m going to give all my time away to anything/anyone that asks nicely.

I need this more than anything.

To prepare myself for such an undertaking (and to actually fucking enjoy it) I can no longer go about my days like a blind-folded idiot. I’m going to have to plan my days like any professional plans their days.

It sounds like I’m a fucking idiot for not already doing this, I know.

With a new puppy, a new relationship, and a new undertaking of my passions, I need structure. I have other things that demand my attention, and “winging it” just won’t do.

I’m finding that I’m getting infuriated with myself at the end of every night. That’s unacceptable. I can’t allow myself to get angry about something that’s so simple to correct.

That stops here. The fucking pity party and the complaining stops NOW. From this day onwards, everything will be planned, including my free time. No more fucking around.

Most people don’t take their time seriously unless it belongs to someone else.

Work and school are great examples of this. When your time belongs to something, people will understand. You will understand. If you can’t manage your time, you’ll be in my position: crying about it in an obscure little corner of the internet.

Fuck that. Discipline = freedom.

Allocate your resources. Adhere to budgets. Execute.


What exactly is your “edge”?

Your “edge” is that line separates comfortable from uncomfortable.

  • Many people live their lives behind their edge.
  • They stick to what’s familiar and safe.
  • They don’t draw much attention to themselves and tend to take routes in life that are well traveled and reliable.

There’s nothing wrong with this, as the majority of people on this earth, have and will, live their lives in such a fashion. And since success in any shape or form is what most people want, many end up choosing the path of least resistance to achieve it.

The thing is, living just beyond your edge is ONLY the recipe for progress.

Stepping beyond that line of comfort and into that cold arena of imminent shame and failure is what we do when we push for things that we don’t have within our current reach.

Yes, it can be exhilarating, but enduring such stress under a regular basis can quickly become exhausting—but it can be done.

You just have to remember that it’ll all be worth it the day you find yourself having already achieved your initial goals and with far more challenging ones in their place.

You want to expose yourself to as much emotional trauma as possible. Every time you do something that makes you super nervous, you grow as a person and expand your comfort zone. I went into a Ruby Tuesdays after I talked to this girl today and approached the hostess in front of her coworkers. I did it because it made me nervous. Now my comfort zone has expanded even further. There is no way around feeling nervous either. You have to develop will power and barrel through your emotions which are holding you back from progressing. Realize that your emotions are designed to keep you in place. You have to actively fight against them until they adjust to your new reality (new comfort zones).

– whatwasigonnasay, via Reddit

Apparently, this guy is talking about improving his social skills with women, but at its core, he’s saying that the very act of stepping out of your comfort zone to expand your personal horizons is a fundamental aspect of personal development.

Going for a run makes for an excellent example of this process.

If it’s a short distance, holding a pace beyond what you’re capable of is like a quick leap beyond your edge and back. Keeping a good pace for a longer distance can show you how long you could weather the pain of living beyond your edge.

The more you do it, the more experiences that your mind and body will have to work with to acclimate, and ultimately, redefine where that edge lays.

Redefining the edge in one aspect of your life can massively improve all aspects of your life.

Whether it’s your social skills or a feat of physical fitness—there’s a noticeable boost in a person’s confidence when they push themselves to become more effective in this world.

You could sit there and live your life as it was given to you, or you could push yourself beyond your set boundaries, thrive in adversity, and truly live the life that YOU want to live.



I was standing in line at the local gas station and noticed the guy standing in line in front of me.

He was about 50-60 years old. His hair was thin and dry, and his clothes were so worn down, it looked as if they’ve been through a thousand cycles in a washer.

The expression that was on his face was that of pure apathy and unrest—as if all of his life energy had been sucked out of him many, many years ago. Slowly, he stepped up to the counter and handed the cashier a crumpled lotto scratcher.

She looked at him and asked if he wanted cash or to get another scratcher. But before she could even finish her sentence, the old man was already tapping on the glass counter, pointing at another hopeless dream.

This fascinated me.

I would hate to be a person who lived his life in such quiet desperation, where strong positive emotions were scarce, yet the yearning to feel them—sometimes in any way possible—became irresistible as fuck.

This guy wasn’t really buying a $2 scratcher. He was buying the emotions that scratcher gave him.

What a fucking deal bro.

  • For only two fucking dollars this man bought 30 seconds of pure exhilaration and hope.
  • For two dollars, this man was able to get his heart racing with anticipation.
  • For two dollars his brain would be thinking about all the extravagant possibilities in his life and all the good that could come if he could finally have this one stroke of luck.

As he walked outside and scratched away that thin foil veil that was hiding away the answers to all his life’s problems, I saw nothing more than an old man who wasted $2 on a piece of paper that he thought would change his life.

Don’t be the old man who relies on some outside source of farfetched luck that’ll save him from his own self-inflicted misery.  That old man wasn’t adding value to the world. He was hoping that the universe would reward him with money for doing nothing more than hoping and praying.

The universe doesn’t give a fuck about your hopes and prayers.

The universe only pays those who work hard, and it will always pay you exactly what you deserve.

If you want to live a life where you have nice things, you need to fucking earn it.