Weeks in the Life

I know it’s been a long time, but I swear, I’ve been writing.

Is that a good enough excuse for letting this blog fall by the wayside? Nope. But it’s honest.

What have I been writing? Well, that’s nothing to share just yet, but between that, reviews for Pop Kernal, freelance gigs, and the good ole’ job hunt, I’ve been pretty lax in my blogging. Apologies all around for my adoring fans (I’m looking at you, Mom).

I figured I would step back in and offer a recap of the last few weeks… because everyone reading this is insanely interested.


"Cheers... but don't you dare make eye contact!"

That was a bad idea…

For the last few years, I’ve graciously been invited to an annual “camp out” hosted by a group of wonderful (and slightly hedonistic) friends. These are the kind of people with which you have many stories that could’ve ended in jail, but just resulted in the biggest laughs imaginable. They may push you down for a giggle (literally), but line up to take a bullet for you.

Every year, during the dregs of summer, we occupy a massive crick-side yard, deep in the heart of Harleysville, PA and construct a tent village. I say “camp out” in quotes because there’s no real roughing it considering we have a potty and a pool at our disposal. It’s more of a 36-48 hour tailgate with drinking, grilling, yard games, drinking, marshmallow roasting, a little more drinking, and then eventually passing out in (hopefully or not) your tent.

This year… I went a little too hard too fast.

We decided to play a very infantile, but surprisingly difficult/competitive game called Wizard Staff. For those who are unaware, this complicated game consists of taping you empty beer can to the bottom of your fresh one. Whoever possesses the tallest “staff” at the end, wins. Of course, there is no clear end to the game; it’s just a marathon of drinking and duct tape mastery. Also, as your “staff” grows, it becomes more difficult to drink from the top, resulting in humorous, inebriated beer can acrobatics. 

I think I won. Naturally, I was too woozy and sick to claim any title past, The Guy Who Got Drunk REALLY Early. I was an absolute mess by 3PM and out for the count at 4PM of day one. I handled myself like a freshly minted, 21-year-old with no gauge of their metabolism. In hindsight, I was likely acting out due to the last few months of turbulent uncertainty. Since I knew I was in a safe place, I subconsciously let go way too quickly. Mr. Self-reflective, over here.

By the time of my passing out, my staff consisted of 12 cans of 21st Amendment Hell or High Watermelon and the bottle of Jim Beam Honey that I finished off. It was not my finest moment, but I surprisingly have no shame about it. I suppose in a way, it had to happen. 

I was back up and holding cogent conversations by 6:30pm or so and went the rest of the night nursing water. No hangover, thank the heavens.


Witness me... shiny and chrome.

Have you ever forgotten you ordered something and then it arrives a few months later? It’s like a surprise, wrapped in excitement, tied with a bow of gratitude, and packaged with Mondo love. Before going freelance, I ordered this limited edition vinyl pressing of Junkie XL’s fantastic score for Mad Max: Fury Road. Money spent months ago provides an hour or so of auditory excellence while I write. I’ve been spinning many records while I take fingers to keys these days, and this was has been a wonderful addition to the rotation.


Sure, it looks pretty - but that fall wouldn't tickle.

Do not trespass my ass. Running gets boring if you stick to the same route every time. Off the beaten path, where the canal meets the river, I decided to veer left and found myself with this view. Danger? HA, I laugh in the face of danger. I was also very careful… I don’t like pain.



I had the distinct pleasure to dog sit this wonderful pup. Her name is Sadie, and I had a blast with her. I’ve obtained a page from her diary and will share it below because it sums up my time with her wonderfully. Before you ask, I did obtain her permission to share. Also, in order to maintain the integrity of her personal thoughts, the excerpt is presented in its original and unaltered state:

Mom n Pa has been out 4 a reelly long walk n there is a nudder guy here who feed me and take me around the town to go make bizness. He play wit me a bunch. He give me treatz more than Mom n Pa, but I not tell him that. He fun and let me lay on him while TV on. He even pet behind muh earz which is like good spot for me. I do not hate dis nudder guy. When Mom n Pa come back.


Such useless talents.

Such useless talents.

When balancing a nickel (and keeping it that way for over 20 minutes) is the greatest achievement of your evening, it may be time to reassess your life. It was pretty impressive though.


Like I said, I’ve been keeping busy - So much so that I’ve intentionally decided to bite off more than I’ve previously been able to chew. I don’t feel comfortable completely divulging because then I’ll be on the hook to finish it quicker. I’m not ready for that yet. So, instead, you’ll get my obtuse comment on it with no follow through. Ain’t I a stinker?


Interviews and hiring events, like crazy. Freelancing is nice, but looking for a full time gig is also a priority (who doesn’t like benefits). I can’t help but draw unfavorable and uncanny comparisons between job interviews and dating, being in the thick of both experiences. Terrible first impressions (on their end as well as mine) lead to decent conversations, or fantastic interviews lead to never hearing from them again. 

Just like with online dating, putting in an application for employment may result in nothing but silence. On paper, we’re the perfect match… why can’t they see it, too?

I know it’s a marathon, not a race. However, I’m at that point in the marathon where I’m beginning feel the repetitive impact in my shins and the dehydrated curl of my toes when they leave the ground. Both of these are usually indicators that you’re almost there, but you can’t help but question why you’re in this painful position to begin with.


I'm so going to win.

When the world gets you down, you occupy yourself with things that don't truly matter; like fantasy football. I look forward to it every year, even though I never win. I even drafted an Eagle this year so I can watch the local games on Sunday with some emotional investment. No knock, I just wasn’t born here so I’m not a die hard Philly fan. 

I don’t usually get guff about it since I’m not rooting for Dallas or New York and I’m not a dick about my fandom. I come from a world where the rivalries are deep and standing, but rarely extend beyond the field in anything more than some shit-talking, novelty tee shirts, and the occasional wish for Aaron Rodgers to break his thumb.

Man, I love football.


Well, that’s been the very real high-level view of last few weeks of my life… living on this planet… located in this solar system… thriving amongst the universe.

I need more coffee.