I’ve found myself drinking three times in the last four days. It’s not like me.
And yet, on my birthday, I’m gonna have a sake bomb (or two). And yet. having missed the first two end-of-month company happy hours, I’m gonna have a rum punch (or two). And yet, considering how long it’s been since I’ve hung out with Chazz, I’m gonna have some Zacapa (and a porter).
One night, as I was drifting off to delightfully inebriated sleep, I found myself struggling to get comfortable in my own bed and thinking…
No idea what I’m doing. Just that I’m doing a shit job of it, and can’t stop.
Sometimes you just gotta laugh at yourself. Not mock. Not berate. Not tear down. Just laugh.
Reflecting on what’s been one of the hardest AND best months of the last decade for me, I then found myself thinking…
Comfortable in my own skin. Until I actually think about my skin. Maybe a little TOO comfortable.
We may never really feel like adults, but there comes a time when you see yourself in the mirror and can’t help but notice you’re looking a bit rough around the edges. Drier, and yet, are those wrinkles?
The urge to change habits and take care of your body hits everyone at different times, ya know?
Shoveling caffeine into the furnace to keep the candle burning at both ends once in a while is a good thing. There’s power in seeing what you can do when you put your mind to it—but it’s not sustainable.
Next year, Volume 2 will have a much longer runway. That’s for sure.
If I can do 200% more podcasting in a month—13 episodes instead of four—I can reclaim those hours for other things that might help sleep better, function on less caffeine, and generally reduce the signs of aging.
What clever thoughts I have! Feeling Jack Handey. Or just Jack.