November 4, 2021
I’m throwing in the towel.
My face is bruised. My arms are tired from swinging. And I really just want to sit down.
Picture that scene in The Fighter were Mark Wahlberg (a favorite of my wife…) with all his shimmering muscles is getting his ass beat in the ring. You know, the fight before the final fight. The first fight they play The Heavy’s “How You Like Me Now?” (Side note: they play it twice and in nearly identical scenes… But hey, it’s a good song and it fit the moment, so, I’m cool with it.)
Back to the scene.
Mark AKA Micky Ward AKA my wife’s obsession is getting trounced around the ring round after round. He looks somewhat ok, but it’s clear he’s getting beat to a pulp.
So Amy Adams (a favorite of mine…) AKA Charlene AKA MTV Girl is all anxious and considering tossing the towel. Presumably to save his face for some late-night shenanigans.
She’s all like: “You gotta give me somethin’ baby” with her blue eyes shaded in sheer concern.
Her bae is getting his ass beat and the whole world is watching. You can’t kiss boo-boos back to beauty.
And he’s all like: “You better not! You better not!” Pointing his big red gloved hand at her.
In that story he goes on to turn things around and win the day. Total Disney. But real life. That one time.
Head – body – head…
So, where am I going with this?
I promise I have a point.
Throwing in the proverbial towel.
Those who know me best know that I value my privacy. I don’t like to give much in reference to details about my personal life. It’s why I prefer that you talk rather than me.
And there are plenty of reasons for that.
But the main one is that the more people know about you, the more they can attempt to define, categorize, and ultimately judge.
By remaining mostly in the shadows on things, people don’t know where you stand specifically, so they’re left to define you based on your actions.
Side note: I really don’t like being defined or categorized, but I’ll acknowledge that we live in America, and we’re taught from an early age to do so. It’s reality…
I’ll also admit that my actions of letting my long hair curl down beyond my shoulders, and letting my beard get a little burly probably don’t help with this… I’ll own up to it: I look like a hippie. Add that I live in Colorado. So, yeah. I get it.
Side note 2: Last summer I was in Austin, Texas for a work conference. I met two guys (one who I had previously met, but he clearly forgot…) We got to chatting about work and all that exciting stuff you want to know about before they asked what state I was covering. When I answered “Colorado” they both did the “Ohh, yeah. That makes sense…” They nodded along and took another sip from their drink.
So, yeah. I know the long hair and beard thing definitely puts me in a category of hippie dude, or homeless. But one thing I’ve always clung to is myself — I don’t always follow any specific fashion, unless it seems practical or somewhat appealing to me. I do what I love. And I love having long hair. And the beard is nice. Sometimes. Just not when it’s long enough to get in your food when you’re eating, or your drink. I don’t really like snacks for later hanging out in my beard. I rarely do left-overs.
Back to my point.
For me — a writer — my actions are mostly within my work. You can read what’s on the page at face value, or you can really dive into it. You can read between the lines where the juice really is, because I’m the one with the pen dictating what’s between those lines.
Those who know me best read between the lines.
This, I don’t mind so much. I layer enough of my stories that if you really get it, damn, good for you. Let’s get a beer together.
Actions — or — in this case my writing, is what I’d prefer people to see. It’s a crafted machine between mind and fingers.
This can be extended outwards to the work I do for MileSplit. I attempt to stray away from much of the personal limelight because I’m just so naturally anxious in social situations.
I don’t know what to do with my hands.
When I arrived at a neighborhood Halloween party the other day the whole place stopped to greet me at the same time. I nearly turned around and went back home.
To all my neighbors reading this — you know who you are — I (do) know you. I (do) know what you want. If you are looking for a (hard seltzer/beer), I can tell you, I don’t have (hard seltzer – but Liz has a lot…) But what I do have, are a very particular set of skills. Skills I’ve acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for the people like you. If you (never simultaneously scream my name when I enter a room again, and/or beer-me fast), that’ll be the end of it. I’ll not look for you. I’ll not pursue you. But If you don’t, I’ll look for you. I’ll find you and I’ll (color the entire cement slab in front of your door in red chalk, which you won’t be able to avoid stepping over, so you’ll bring red chalk into your house.)
So, I really try to keep it on the work — coverage — of athletes doing great things.
I’ll always stray from writing stories of the bonking of a big race, and wait until that bonking turns into a triumph. Stories of perseverance. I prefer to put the spotlight on the great something someone is doing, rather than the negative.
Call is bias. Call it what you want you want. I don’t believe in much, but I do believe in the Law of Attraction.
(I’ll save you the googling — basically you get out of the world what you put in it. Or — if you put positive out there, you’ll get positive back. If you put negative out there, you’ll get negative back. You get the idea. Or, I hope you do…)
That’s what I’d prefer people to see of me — the guy who puts positive out there. To match my hippie image — I’m all about the love, man, woman.
So, in attempts to wrap this up and leave you with some parting words of wisdom.
Please just see this for what it is — Ramblings about leaving pre-conceived ideas about people and things back home. Throw away definitions and categories, and just see the world and people in it for what they are. A clear page means you get to decide what you put on it. So why not fill it with something positive? Put some Love on it.
Oh, and the whole “throwing in the towel” bit was just about me not being so damn evasive anymore. Basically, I’m returning to blogging.
This post is brought to you by Liz’s taste in movies (she really just wanted to watch Mark Wahlberg strut shirtless for as long as possible.)
I told her there’s always this: