Bearded Gang

I have a lot of “what’s next?” anxiousness floating around in my head.

Hold that thought

Not anxiousness more like cloudy with a chance of anticipation. Got alot on my mind about the next six months of work.

Wheels and cogs they be turning right now. I’m referring to work obviously.

Scenarios

Go smaller?

Larger?

Stay? Sit? Heel?

Or go?

Go forward? Well never backward that’s my rule of thumb.

Go away? Ooh show me how please

I get these pings of things. I want to add and delete pieces of the pie.

Rebrand? Never in the same spot. Consumers are habitual. Listen I can tell you from precise experience that it doesn’t work. *coughs in Dive N Boar and three LTO facelifts.

Nah the deli does fine but it’s not really a deli anymore I took away the parts that weren’t working. The real estate controls the flow regardless of how you want it to work out. I shape and mold by consumer reaction. I haven’t changed shit the last 9 months because I said last time “this is it until it ain’t it anymore”

Deep thoughts Jack Handy

In a month or so I’ll go into charcuterie mode until 2027. Good way to lose myself into the vortex of meats and cheese while I reckon with new horizons.

When I opened Graze I had zero confidence in myself. I dealt with a daily dose of “what if I fail?” while I built her. Honestly that thought took a ride with me for well over a year.

Sneered at myself as I wrote a basic sandwich menu. Threw away my new charcuterie menu. I was too overwhelmed. All of those deli update journal posts I deleted.

All of em. I disliked the voice in those entries. I acknowledged the moment and let it go.

I stumbled for a bit

I gotta stop fighting with what I’m skilled at. Period

My future plans? I’m keeping them to myself. They’re still downloading. I know my confidence has been resurrected.

“I can do better than this” rings in my ears while “but do I want to?” stands its ground.

Am I being pulled by ego or the need to be more creative? Do I want to be noticed more or fade into charcuterie monotony? First of my generation to use that term I bet.

Do you have any idea how much charcuterie I’ve made over the last 6 years? Almost 6. I’ve eyeballed my calendar recently. In one week it’ll be 6 years since I split up with Southern.

Some times it feels longer ago. I could write a book about the last 6 years alone. This annual event used to make me angry and sad. It’s hard to describe now. I’ll write this out next week when it hits the calendar. My final release I believe. I’m not up for a long tangent. I will say I’m hyper aware of how events do seem to happen to me on an annual scale.

“History repeats itself” can represent several different ways of evaluation. Life changing experiences can repeat on different levels. I’m better suited for upheavals now. I’ve got quite a few under my belt.

The event may return but the result can be changed. That’s the whole ass entire key.

Graze’s future hangs. No it’s not going away I’m just trying to decide if I want it to step up or maintain. I’ve got some cool ideas floating around.

That’s all

My mind is better than it was two years ago. I need my trail markers to hit turbo or leave me be for a while for a good head clearing.

That’s all

Ride the current

Try not to drown on the way.

Writing at 5:30 in the morning has its challenges. I’m still on the alertness curve at the moment

What you can’t see right now are the two minute pauses in between my sentences.

*sips first cup of coffee

Better

Sorta

*gulps second

Better closer warmer

Sorry I’m loosening my journal thumbs

Cracking knuckles

Procrastinating

Yesterday while minding my own damn business my friend in my head says “you really fucking hated middle school and high school”

“Didn’t you?”

Wasn’t really a questing after that it was awaiting my agreement.

Uh yeah. I sure did. I’ve never hidden it

“Why?”

Um it sucked. You were there dummy

“Why?”

Cmon man we’ve got another half hour of Fargo to finish can this wait ?

“Nah”

Fine hombre where do we start?

“Trace it back. Take your time. You’ve thought about it enough to break it down”

*sighs

Yeah man so I was pulled into two separate family households when I was 8. I was bussed into a small town in Anderson county where I knew absolutely no one but my mother. No explanation, no apologies and no fucking nothing. A summer of confusion of where I was going to start 4th grade soon at another school I’d never seen before or heard of.

Meet new kids

New teachers

At home?

A little house right by a highway. Across from me where cows

Beside me were cows

Behind me? Cows

I was a Greenville city kid. Cows were cartoon characters.

I knew my parents were splitting I was there for the confirmation. Never heard the exact conversation between my parents I only remember hearing my dad say “I’ll pack and leave tomorrow”

I’m writing to release. This one won’t hit the papers.

Im releasing

Expounding

What was that conversation?

“I met someone else Ron. He’s younger, a truck driver.”

Or maybe he was in construction?

My mom was around 41 or so. Same age as me when I opened Southern. I always compare timelines and ages with my parents to sync where we both were at certain times in our lives. My dad? 58. I’m nearing it. Gotta a few but close enough to feel it. My mom’s suitor? 39 ish. His birthday was last week. He’d be 86 if he were alive today. Me at 39? I was a brand new papa. My daughter was enjoying her first year here on life.

Tom, my mother’s new man, was about to be a brand new papa to four fucking kids he’d never met. Wild to take a mother of four in without meeting any of her kids. Tom got more than he bargained for. I suppose we all did.

Tom was gruff. An old school country redneck. Cowboy boots and hat to match. Big ass belt buckle and a lot of shit around his home related to rodeos and horses. I was ignorant to this lifestyle. I still am to this day.

If anything in this entry resembles my bringing down Tom’s character down it’s not intended. Tom was the best man at my wedding for a reason. I grew to love and admire him over time. I took awhile. We were both headstrong and committed to staying that way. I’m recalling old trauma memories that need to be reckoned with. I’ve been recognizing old habits that come back home that I need to release.

It’s been awhile since I’ve dealt with this. I’m closing chapters this is important to me.

I spent roughly five years of my life praying before bedtime that my parents would get back together.

Every single night. No one answered.

That thought rode shotgun with me every day.

My first day at Wren Middle school to my last. My summer breaks, holidays in between. Amidst this chaotic fantasy world I’d get on the school bus and get my ass kicked on a daily basis until the end of my freshman year. Maybe a little after I can’t remember. New faces at school take some time to be regular faces. Took a bit longer for me. I was a new kid with a new family and lifestyle.

I didn’t like all of the above. That included myself. What did I do to make my family split?

It wasn’t your fault Chad. Yeah I know but no one told me that. I had to grow through it.

Murky ass growing pains.

Piedmont didn’t like me. It only mirrored my energy back to me.

I never gravitated to the folk there and they knew it. Felt it. I felt alone. Man I felt alone for a long time.

Enemy territory

Hanging out at my new grandparents home with people I didn’t know. Staying overnight in mudrooms/guest beds. Being made to pray bedside with my future cousins I didn’t know.

Listen

Don’t do that shit to kids for fuck sake.

Don’t

Make

Kids

Pray

Add to that I was placed into a denomination of church that was very foreign to me. Much more strict, close minded and countrified. You can still read my anger 45 years later.

I’m releasing

I’m not angry.

This is a trauma response for me. When I see our government try to impose religion into our schools and daily lives I knee jerk a hefty fuck off to you.

Trauma

Go back a few paragraphs about the school bus fights

I’ve got quite the chip on my shoulder now. I won’t sleep if I feel like someone or something got the best of me. My instinct is to destroy anything that I feel disrespected me.

Beat the living shit out of it. That’s why my voice is like it is sometimes on social media.

He’s boastful

He’s proud

He’s cocky

He’s actually scared to get back on that bus again. So he acts that way so he doesn’t have to again. It hurts just to say it

But

I recognize it

I never accepted the culture of Piedmont. I didn’t want any part of it. From 8 to 18 I resided there and have been scrubbing the stains left on me ever since.

This isn’t about my fellow peeps that grew up there with me. This is entirely me. If me talking shit about your little town offends you it’s not intentional.

I’ve earned the right though, my childhood home there is a now a fucking storage center. It fits

I always felt like the new kid no one remembered or wanted. Where would I be had we stayed in Greenville? I can’t answer that. But I wouldn’t have moved backwards for a few years.

Grades? Terrible

My scholastic footprint? My senior annual will tell you my only participation the enter time I was there was pep rallies.

That’s it.

C minus student my entire career. With the exception of one or two friends my cliques changed every year.

Volatility

Disdain is dripping right now broseph

Shoulder checks as I walked down the hallways in middle school. Man I didn’t want to be there either.

There are still people walking around that I want to reckon with. That’s not healthy. I don’t carry that chip as much as I used to but it’s nearby at all times.

My mom changed. Piedmont took her over. The culture

I suppose that’s what she wanted I can’t be sure.

We were poor. Broke weekly. I was surrounded by talks of money scarcity, bills unpaid, things taken away. No luxuries purchased. Anything bought was old and broken. We’d repair it until it was capable of being used.

Trauma response: I’m frugal to the bone. I don’t feel like I deserve to have certain things.

My old man used to always buy me a candy bar when we went to the gas station. I’d just walk up to the counter with him with my candy bar of choice. Tried that with my stepfather in Piedmont once. I was reprimanded for my assumption that we could afford a candy bar.

That stuck with me for a long time.

My teachers disliked me. I wasn’t a good student and my mood and mouth reflected that. Teachers don’t get your background story they’ve got 25 plus other kids to deal with. All they see is the kid furiously scribbling his homework three minutes before collecting it.

Mom never checked my homework. Never asked but she’d get mad at my grades when she saw them.

“What do you want me to do mom? I’m at this point because of your decisions”

Sorry but it’s true

Because of our financial difficulties there were no vacations. Weekends in Walhalla were my getaways. Not really though my getaway was a broken down camper I hid inside of all summer for years.

I vacationed from my head. In my head..

Our brokenness made me resent others. I disliked the kids at school that showed up in the clothes I wanted to have.

The cars I wanted to drive

They played the sports I wanted to play but couldn’t because of resources we didn’t have.

Trauma response to this day I get angry at people who have worked less and have more.

I can’t help it. I work on it man but it’s tough

But

I’m aware of it.

My daughter had 12 of her friends up in her bedroom yesterday. All laughing, giggling while getting ready for spirit week and football game. My daughter is wearing what she wants, cowboy boots we bought for her. Her car we bought for her sits in our driveway. Sometimes she buys gas but often times it’s us.

She’s well liked at school, boys are lining up. Man I never got eyeballed from anyone in school. Honor roll, high 90’s on her test scores. She’s touring colleges. I toured one. Had my heart set on it until I found out my parents spent all my tuition money on bills and loaning money to my older siblings.

Big fucking trauma response to that one. Too many to count.

College meant nothing to me after that. I wasn’t interested in a degree in honorable mention.

My daughter smiles as she leaves with all of her friends

And I smile right with her.

“I’ll die before I let you experience the same childhood as me”

I’m here to break that generational trauma barrier for you kiddo. Your mother too.

I went through what I had to go through so you didn’t have to.

That’s fucking love and sacrifice Lily. One day you’ll realize that when your kids have an even easier time than you. Leveling up is your job now that mom and dad have broke that barrier for you.

A “badge of honor” I never asked for but I get it now. You won’t carry the same traumas as me because I refused to hand them down as my parents did.

Your smiles are my reward to myself.

I’ll take it

My brain has been sitting in 5 o’clock traffic for the past couple of weeks. My creativity seems to be idling at low RPMs. I get this way sometimes I had a little head cold last week and the brain fog is still lifting. I’m not trying to punch through it anymore I’m laying low until everything snaps back. Not sure I’m even camping this weekend my guts are saying stay home like a good boy.

*sighs in bored

I do have a tattoo appointment Monday, my first in 5 years so I’m a little excited about having my body detailed for several hours while gritting my teeth.

The future of the deli is on my mind I’ve got a handful of things I have to reckon with pertaining to its next steps. What are they? Can’t tell you until I know myself.

Do I go safe hugging the sides of the riverbanks or let go and flow? I love a good esoteric flow but it comes with a large price tag and spending any money during all of this shit goings on makes me hesitant.

Politics

It irritates the shit out of some of you that I don’t post my political views. What I stand for, what side I choose.

I don’t choose sides I never have.

I have my beliefs and opinions I just choose not to launch it into the noise. No I’m not an elitist looking down on the donkeys and elephants I’ll tell you my thoughts in a conversation. Not on a pedestal. My thoughts are actually headstrong about some matters. These days when there’s a difference in opinions we don’t know how to agree to disagree. Instead it’s name calling and anger. I’m just not here for that anymore. It’s too volatile.

I’m not turning my back on anything. I’ve never hesitated saying what’s on my mind I’m no longer spouting it over social media.

You do you and I’ll do me as what one friend said to me after getting upset that I don’t express my views on a public forum. Don’t think they’ve interacted with me for the last 6 months because of that. It only cements my opinion that people are incapable of having a conversation about politics anymore.

Anyhoo

The blahness is reflecting in my journaling this morning. At least my house is clean.

Random thought plug

I’m slowly transitioning into seasonal work mode I think. After this month we start to pick up more and more on the box side and then early November I slowly put my head down and I don’t look back up until December 26th. Harvest time as I call it.

Finally curated a new charcuterie menu after 6 years. I had to make some changes. I was bored.

I’ll post it soon. Maybe

The future of Graze waves in the distance. I wanna go bigger man I always do. That damn ego rears its ugly head.

Someone give me $100k and I’ll leave you alone..

Gimme 5 million and I’ll disappear.

Anyone? Anyone?

Dammit

Tough crowd

I just want to create and build

Not stay

Man I dislike a tetherment

I need the current to steer for a while. Take me to a new tributary please and thanks.

Maybe I’ll go camping Sunday night.. Brevard, burger on my tailgate and a good sitting chair by the crick.

God that’s Mayberry as fuck. I love it

This went exactly where I thought it would. Nowhere.

So be it.

Peace and elbows yall

Or board reckonings?

Monthly reckonings?

Reckoning forecasts or vice versa?

*sighs

I have a slight head cold. Had it for the last three days. I’m consistent if anything I come down with an annual sniffle. It’s been early or late summer the last three years although my sniffles were caused by Covid two years ago.

It’s not a death bed sentence by any means I’m one of those fortunate people that rarely get sick. Once a year I get a physical brake. Yeah I spelled that correctly it’s a “sit and rest for a bit” sign of life that my ass hasn’t had enough bed rest lately. My down time is often spent traveling, camping and climbing fun rocks and trails to see the sun close up.

Fun hobbies. But ultimately they can wear you down over time. I take this as a sign to slow it down and smell the flowers. Unfortunately I can’t smell shit right now.

Also

Don’t lick your fingers while eating a delicious pastry right after you leave the gym without washing your hands first.

Listen

I’m well aware of the contradiction of working out and then consuming a cinnamon roll. The whole reason for the workout was so I could enjoy that cinnamon roll.

Sometimes you win.

Sometimes you lose.

Sometimes it’s a tie.

As I was deep throating the icing off of my phalanges my inner dialogue was casually telling me “shoulda washed your hands first”

Why?

5 days later “well shit”

Both of my nostrils are fighting for oxygen. They’re taking turns at the moment.

Poop

I feel like a car slightly stuck in the mud. I can pull out of it but another tire starts to spin as soon as I do.

wtf was I talking about before this?

Oh

Board meetings with your self

Yourself, sorry

I’ve been in management and operations for almost 30 years. From key, AGM, GM, regional and owner operator.

I’ve had my fair share of board meetings. I’ve sat in and hosted quite a few.

Forecasts

Analytics

Training

Conditioning

Addressing issues

Making plans for the upcoming quarters

I’ve spent a few thousand hours of my life in these meetings. I dislike them with a passion

But

They were necessary and advantageous

Your business needs a steering wheel, the road to success isn’t a straight line nor is it one consistent interstate.

Philosophies change

Trends change

Consumer spending, confidence and habits change.

Staffing issues

Consistency

Upcoming events

Forecasts and comparisons to sales of recent years

Are you trending upwards or downward?

Hours upon hours of business evaluations, tweaking of what’s working and what’s not.

A reckoning of your business.

I despised these meetings with my entire soul.

Necessity doesn’t mean coherence. I like to create. I don’t like the administration duties that align with it.

That’s all

I know I know, call the wahbulance

But

My little reckoning with my life for four years was just that.

A board meeting for me.

Manager meeting focused on Chad

My life was stagnant. It was no longer trending with me

Morph yourself into a small business for a moment. Your life, not your bank account, portfolios or personal wealth.

You

Your body and soul

Every week you sit with yourself for 20-30 minutes.

Forecast yourself

Where do I see myself in the future? Objectives, targets and aspirations. Are you trending upward or down?

What departments are falling short? are they physical? Mental? Emotional?

Are you trying to attain a healthier lifestyle? Relocating?

Can’t shake that ex? Scared to take that jump?

Staffing? Are you outgrowing your circle of friends? How do they influence you? Represent your long term goals?

My biggest pet peeve during these work meetings were the repeated offenses.

“We talk about this shit every week and nothing changes”

That’s a me quote. I’d pull out my meeting notes and show the entire room highlighted points of the same exact conversation repeated weekly.

Discussion without action

Frustration

Stagnation

I preached a good meeting. I knew what focal points to hit. I made P&Ls relatable, forecasts reasonable.

All the while my personal life was falling apart

I wasn’t practicing what I preached at home. And why would I? This was business. Not personal.

Well, I’m the CEO of me. I alone make all the decisions about my personal business. And I was managing it poorly.

Running it into the ground.

Ignoring my repeating mistakes and half assed efforts.

Poor staffing and maintenance.

I know I’m throwing metaphors all over the place.

When I split with my old business the only thing I put in my forecast at the time was simple

“We don’t move backwards Chad.”

Sideways for a bit is ok.

We don’t move or look back.

Don’t let that foot step a rung back. Oh I stood still on that ladder for a while.

I’ve talked about my list of bullet points I made for myself on an after long drive home from a hike. Same layout of notes as I would relay in a manager meeting.

Shortcomings

Addictions

Personal life

Perspectives

Direction

How do I revive my own personal business? Because mine was failing.

I wrote a long list dude. I’d missed years of personal meetings. I challenged myself like a frustrated CEO trying to turn the company tide. Lit a spark up my own ass.

Trying to save the company.

And I did. Well I got it in the right direction. My manager meetings with Chad are daily.

Every day we have a morning meeting over coffee and I my CEO asks me the following questions.

Are we in a better position today than yesterday? Are we moving forward or back?

What obstacles did we encounter and how did we deal with them?

What are we doing to improve a weak point?

What’s for dinner?

Ok that last one is my daily text with my wife.

This is my life now. A daily manager meeting with myself. Sometimes it’s a notebook review, some it’s a short mental recap.

It’s no longer a reckoning that’s time served. The business of Chad is in the black. We are in daily improvements and in upkeep mode right now.

Meetings are productive, we’re serving croissants with the coffee and everyone is flowing on the same page.

Meeting adjourned.

Essentially the same thing

That evening sitting cross legged on my old sofa, drunk, deep in depression. Coming across a Instagram story of a charcuterie aesthetic in a small plastic box

*ping

What is this?

Charcuterie in a takeout box? Is that really a thing?

A week later, same media outlet different friend

*ping

Is that charred Brie in a pizza box with a baguette?

Two different friends, two cities completely opposite sides of the country, two concepts collided in my mind

*ping

Can I do this?”

I’ve done some fruit and cheese boards for work. Nothing intricate. Actually they looked terrible.

I can’t do that

Maybe I can

Where?

I have no kitchen

I have nothing actually

But

I did it

Worked from home. Illegally idgaf who knows that anymore cottage laws can go fuck it. I did it. Cars pulling up in my muddy yard for box orders. Friends helping me deliver my boxes on the eves of holidays.

Hey, thank you for that. I was too overwhelmed to thank anyone at the time.

Boxes looked fucking terrible but my old branding kept my head above water until it clicked

Pinged

One day my boxes went into a flow state. All of them. Cheeses and meats clicking like into place like an edible jigsaw puzzle. Remember the look of young Forrest’s face when his leg braces came off and he realized how fast he could run? Confidence kicks in. Forrest hits overdrive.

Same Forrest. Same

Repetition

Devotion

Practice

Practice

Practice

I always look back on those first six months with two parallels

Fuck yeah

Fuck you

I did it

Once I shook off my self doubt I sunk myself into after 2020

The whole world changed that year and so did I.

I was full of self pity

Drunk

Lost

Tired

But

BUT

In the back of my mind there was a like light telling me no matter what you’re going to be fine

Oh I didn’t listen to it mind you but I heard it.

It gave me hope even though I didn’t believe it.

It anchored me when I thought i was lost

A radio signal and song playing in my head for years before i understood the lyrics

It’s just that simple yall

A remembrance of an unfamiliar tune.

That’s all

Sometimes you can piece all the loose strings you accumulated over the last few years and tie them together.

Put a cup on each end and chat with that fella

“Hey! You’re gonna be alright my dude”

And it shows up on the other side as a little light.

You’re gonna do this and this and this.

You’re gonna think it’s hopeless but all you’re doing is building a better you

That’s how I perceive my trail markers. The future distant me telling me how to get there.

How I got there

Here

Every single box

Thousands of them

How many more?

You’ll know when it’s time

Fuck dude cmon

Keep writing

I have. 100,000 plus words man

Keep writing. Keep doing you bud

Ok murky mcghee

The light I know it’s me.

Trail markers are me recognizing it at times

Head and the Heart currently singing in my headphones. A song I’ve never heard before.

There’s times I need direction there’s times I need to roam

I move station to station, I showed you here alone.

“I am my own arrow I am my own home”

Man if that’s not a sync I don’t know what is.

A remembrance of an unfamiliar tune.

Somedays I look at the beginning of my morning journal and ask myself

“What now?”

I’m staring at my phone

Staring

Waiting for the click to click

*clack

Nope that’s not it asshole

Around 11:19am on a Sunday morning September 5th, 1971 at Saint Francis Hospital, Peggy Ann Gangwer and Roland Donald Gangwer had a son arrive at their proverbial doorstep. Not sure how long my parents were married for before my birth. I can’t find one pic of my mom cutting a cake or my parents exchanging vows.

No tuxes, white gowns, bachelor parties.

Nothin

No “it’s a boy!” signs, party hats or cigars

Weird

Not one. No memories of celebrating

There’s one pic of my birth the hospital took. My little grown up embryo ass in a diaper. Misshapen, confused, one eye glancing up at the camera.

“Put me back. I’m gonna be a restaurant operator for half my life”

Putting your life in reverse and watching the reels is surreal

Sur reels

I’m watching it playback in my head right now. A tv series revisited over the years. Season 55. Same main character. A few new ones and a small handful of the original cast. Some quit, some passed.

Some scenes filled with laugh tracks

Some with boos

Many with tears. Drama holds the series together.

You already know the plot. You lived it.

*Baba O’Reilly plays in the background

“Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here”

Flashback instantly to all 55 years

I’m not here to summarize it. I’ve done plenty of that.

A short witnessing of a life. I don’t need to take it all in I’ve lived it. In surround sound.

Lo-fi Hi-fi and WiFi

55 is significant to me and I’m not sure why yet. When I turned 50 I already had a light in the back of my mind that told me my drinking days are over. I didn’t tell anyone because I don’t like people looking at me like a cuckoo clock.

The light is one again having a chat of what’s to come.

I fought the last one. I’m surrendering this time. Surrender doesn’t just mean giving up. It also means yielding and or letting go of something.

“Release”

Aight

Of what Chad?

Can’t tell you because it hasn’t happened yet

Gonna let that float in your eye socket for a bit

I’ve got African drum beats in my ears. I may change this tune

hold please

I had 367 people wish me a happy birthday on facebook yesterday. Thanks yall

I’ve been trying some micro learning lately after my trip. My screen time is 7 hours a day. Granted at least an hour is my journaling, scrolling for music while I perform through my day, checking my medias entirely too much and melting my brains on dopamine reels while wrestling discernment fed to me.

Ew

I’m trying to replace a few of those hours with other, better hours.

Philosophy

Planting

Short story writing

Yoga

I’m not issuing a statement that I’m more grounded than you. I’m trying to utilize my time better.

7 hours

50 hours a week

2600 hours a year

What could you learn or do with 2600 extra hours? Or just half of that?

Then I think to myself “I don’t have the time”

Dude

SYBAU as the kids say

My light has been poking me. Like a Facebook poke. I wake up with one of these notifications

👉🏼 – “what?”

👉🏼- “the fuck? WHAT?”

👉🏼 – “stop poking me who are you??”

“Oh hey you. What am I doing wrong now?”

👉🏼

Use your words for fuck sake I’m tired

👉🏼

*sighs “that?” Are we still going to do that?”

👍🏼

Fine

I got a cool little writing book thing. Electric, I can write on with no internet or phone in my hand. I’m excited. I thought about getting one after I’d written at least 50,000 words and I’m way past that.

Like Bradley Cooper in Burnt after shucking his last anointed oyster he imposed on himself before he could move on. That’s my favorite part of that movie. I watched that part and immediately got it.

Felt it.

Adam Jones (Bradley) had his own reckoning to deal with before he could go back.

Oh I’m not going back to the restaurant industry fuck off on those vibes.

I’m going somewhere just not back.

Forward motion at all times son

My boots are on my feet now, my bag is by the door

Thanks for that plug Avett’s, good timing.

I’m in a good flow. I had dinner with my favs. No phone was opened the entire time. Dinner smacked and my dates were beautiful. If there’s a deathbed in my future, that moment will make me smile, amongst many others.

I’m smiling now with a tear accompanying it.

Life

Is

Cool

Peace out y’all

My old man was born on this beautiful day, September 4th, 1921. I’ve made some peace from some stale, old bitterness that I carried around about his legacy over the past few years.

He got the recognition I needed.

My thoughts are always filled with my father on this day. I write about him often on here and always post in memory. He’s earned it, he deserves it. I don’t feel the need to spill my guts for this anniversary of celebration this time. Peace has its way of ironing out the old memory wrinkles.

Happy birthday Roland Gangwer.

Signed

Roland Gangwer Jr.

Yes my first name is actually Roland. I’ve never carried that name as mine. My mother didn’t like it, it’s a family name obviously the other one being Marshall.

My mother liked the actor Chad Everett. That’s where Chad came from. Peggy was a bit of a hardhead I imagine there was a brief conversation of “I’m not calling my son Roland” fists clenched matching her jaw.

Don’t mess with Peggy, my dad was a wise man.

In homeroom every year I’d get called Roland and most of the class would mock me. It wasn’t a big bully moment but every single school year from 4th- 11th grade in each class I was introduced as Roland to the class and I always autocorrect with “that’s my father’s name. I’m Chad” and then go back to sketching on my notebooks.

Roland, would my life been different had I kept that name? A name can change your life’s trajectory I believe. I’d probably be a better fighter.. I thought of changing my name back to that at one time just to shake shit up but I’m a chad now. Axe body spray and all.

Jk

My brother Charles David Pope also died on this day in 2004. Half brother same mother. He was named after his father too. An abusive alcoholic that my mother would pack her shit and move away from him. My brother, unfortunately followed his father in a lot of his footsteps. Which is ironic since he didn’t remember him. David chased a lot of demons and never found his peace. He had chronic body pain from years of abuse and took one too many oxies.

Watching my mother bury her son is one of the most painful memories of my life.

Doesn’t feel like 22 years ago. I was driving back from the beach on a sunny Saturday afternoon when my mother called me with the news. She cried the next day when she realized she had forgotten my birthday.

That just hurt a little again

I mourn these moments differently every time they reappear. Distant memories that regain their color, blossoming for a few days and go back into their regularly scheduled program. I have about a half dozen of these moments that are an emotional asterisk on specific calendar days.

Some are wonderful

Some I deal with grit and sorrow

I’ll carry these days around like the patches in my camper for life. And they’ll continue to grow until I become someone’s patch

My mood isn’t of sorrow although this journal seems to reflect it. I have to get all of this out so it can bloom.

Because it has to.

It’s a part of what built me. Birth and death.

I’m serene.

It’s a part of life. I usually have a dream about my brother around this time. Not always but sometimes.

The mourning never passes. It just conforms over time. You wash a stiff shirt enough over time it becomes bearable to wear.

I’m fine, really I am. Letting this out is a healthy deflation.

*hissssss

I usually counter with a sarcastic comment here..

Johnny Blue Skies is singing Stay on that D baby till you hit that G.

Sometimes the music doesn’t sync with the moment.

Mood lightens

I’ve got a decent load of work to deal with today. I’ve got dinner with two of my favorite people tomorrow for my birthday.

Peace out. ✌🏼

I’m heading into a mass shedding phase

I can feel it building up

Like distant thunder under the sky’s horizon

Deep shit

I turn two 5’s soon. Thousands of people know my date of birth thanks to social media. It does come in handy I can’t recall more than about 6 birthdays other than my own.

My parents (my dad’s is tomorrow)

Some of my siblings but not all. I’ve got a handful y’all

My wife and daughter. Those will remain forever

Barry my assistant and friend shares the same birthday as my wife. I feel like there’s a connection there for me somewhere.

I remember a handful of ex girlfriends and a couple of ex friends.

And Freddie Mercury because he has the same birthday as me.

I don’t care about birthday celebrations anymore. Years ago I would proclaim “it’s my day!”making plans with 20 friends to go out and rage downtown for hours. The party population dropping one or two at a time as the drunker ones would fall off the drunken carousel. Sometimes the star of the show wouldn’t make the entire celebration and he’d go home and pass out.

Those days have passed. And I am thankful

My birthday dinner will be with my two favorite people. It makes me smile to think about it. I can’t imagine a better celebration.

My 50’s have been a different book in my life. We changed stories fast, left behind the prequels, drowned some traumas and shook hands with Captain Peace quite a few times

A subtle transitioning

The great paradox as time speeds up as life slows down.

Each year we slowly approach an invisible edge that we all step off of.

Or maybe we fly

I’m in a mood man. Not of oncoming mortality I don’t give two shits about that.

What if when we finally figure things out the big door finally opens?

I’m not approaching death y’all calm down. I just no longer see it as the endgame is all. I’m probably in better shape in all the big categories than I’ve ever been

Mentally

Spiritually

Physically? I’m tougher, leaner. Stronger? I’m as strong as I want to be. I’m lighter than I’ve been in 20 years. Not from weakness.

I saw a pic of myself from five years ago and hardly recognized me. Yeah side by side it’s twinsie town but I see enough subtle differences to make an entirely different Chadly.

Two

Different

Dudes

5 years ago was when I started molding. Albeit it was almost against my will. I fought until I got too tired to remain that person. I observe him daily. Not from a towering distance. Side by side

55 may you continue to mold

Climb

Ascend

Build

It should be much easier now I no longer fight the growing pains

A download is assimilating

Casted

A meeting between two people

This guy (hi its me)

And

The person I forgot to be

Does that make sense? It does to me

It’s my journal I’ll be as cryptic as I want

*sticks tongue out

Moody Blues are serenading my attention at the moment.

Pause

“And when the music plays

I hear the sounds I have to follow”

A song has been playing for 55 years now. I’m following to tune in

Cheers to almost 55

I spent two days alone out in the WNC mountains after my long work week.

A short unplug

A reality reprieve

Weekly Reset

A seek and delete session.

What’s that last part Chad? Seek and delete? Sounds like a hit man mission. Are you hunting out there?

Nah it’s nothing like that. I just made up that term, well no I discovered it. Not a revelation of sorts but an observation of myself. Most of my journaling is made up of observations and experiences that only I can relate to and breakdown through my discernment and point of view.

All I’m trying to say is what’s a “yah” for me could just as easily be a “nah” for you.

I hit some yahs when I camp. Some yeehaws too but that’s a different story for another time.

Where was I?

Fragments

We are all fragmented in all sorts of ways. Our personalities and the masks we wear to conceal or protect ourselves.

We wear masks to work, another when we get home

We put on a mask around one friend and a completely different one around another. Sometimes we may carry around multiple masks if surrounded by an assortment of friends or acquaintances (always forget the c in that damn word)

We wear masks around complete strangers and customers who may purchase our products

Online masks to show who we aren’t or who we want you to think we are

More intimate masks we wear around our significant others and close family.

Masks to hide our addictions, insecurities, doubts

I could keep throwing mask reasoning around

But

I work for a living so I have to prepare one of my own masks soon.

I don’t care for masks anymore. I never realized how many I owned or donned over the years until recently. I’ve discarded quite a few over the recent years without realizing what I was doing.

Career masks

Public masks

Online masks

I being redundant as I’m trying to circle around to my center of attention here.

My attachment to camping is this-

Camping = mask shedding

Mask shedding = integration

A discarding of outsourced authority

Man this may be a long one..

I slowly find myself deleting fragments of my own ego, pieces that I’ve created from my past or inserted from other people’s authorities over time.

Parents

Teachers

Old employers

People I looked up to or thought I did

Implemented rules and regulations.

Some, are necessary necessities

Some are bullshit

Rewind to earlier statement of my “yahs” above^^

When I’m on my little trips up the yonder hollers I’m seeking and shedding.

Seeking my true self

Integrating

Shedding the rest

Two more days of no distractions, no interruptions

Boredom is quite the glue for integration at times.

When I’m alone up there –

I’m me, myself and I

The holy trinity of integration.

There are no masks

No “hey y’all watch this!”

Although complete transparency, my pics and posts of my trips cause my ego to shine. A fine line between sharing my experiences in hoping that you’ll see how my life has changed through these past few years as opposed to “look at me!”

One of my thoughts on my last long trip was

“Am I climbing this mountain for me to see the top?”

Or

“Am I climbing it so you can see me at the top?”

One’s a moment of integration

One’s a mask

I’ve become keenly aware of the masks I’ve carried lately

I’m in an era of discardment. Not a word? It is now

I try to bring back the person up in the yonder hollers. Sorry y’all I’m enjoying how that rolls off my tongue

Yonder hollers

For a couple of days I fragment my fragmentations.

And sweep them off the floor like broken glass. Man I’m pushing for some metaphors today

Let’s simplify this

In the mountains I’m a polished version of who I’m supposed to be. Like that river rock from the last episode of Chad’s life.

Domestication has left the chat.

The solitude

Journaling

Stillness

Nature

Unplugging

Sovereignty

The fabric to coherence.

The deliberation of methodical actions. Not sure why I wrote that but I’m keeping it.

I had one of my lifelong friends come by to visit while I was there. He lives about 10 miles away from my zen zones. We sat and chatted for a bit. He’s been one of my best friends for life.

There’s nothing we can’t talk about and even less of what we haven’t.

But I found myself talking through a mask. One I’ve worn around him for years. Not a fake mask, not one to hide behind, it was a mask formed over the years from our decades of friendship. I haven’t seen him in well over a year and a half. I wanted to share with him my experiences of recent.

My altered life, mind and heart.

When we started talking I listened to the old Chad coming out to chat. Not a bad or good version of myself. It’s nothing like that. I was still wearing a mask of over 35 years of friendship.

An attachment

I kept catching myself using phrases and patterns I had thought I discarded over time.

My friend David brought some of it out of me. Not in a negative or bad way. Our friendship is nothing like that. I’ve known him since I was a late teenager. Some of that late teenager came out to talk. Some of the early 20’s roommate and late 20’s cycling across country adventurer reappeared.

I smiled at the thought of it. I wasn’t frustrated by any means I was keenly aware.

“Who’s talking right now Chad? It’s not you. Ok some of you but it’s more of a conjuring”

When David left, I smiled again.

I felt the presence of the mask.

“By Jove I think I’ve got it”

Who are we really until we’ve spent enough time alone with ourselves?

Free from distractions.

Masks

David has been one of my best friends for my entire adult life. I’d burn down a town for this guy.

But

There’s still a mask.

A mask of the past.

This in no way reduces a value of our friendship. Not even close to a point I’m drowning to make here.

My mannerisms, thought processes and mechanisms changed during our brief encounter.

Changed may be too much

Tweaked maybe

Enough for me to be aware.

This was a download for me of sorts. The mini revelation didn’t hit until this morning. This is one of many reasons why I take these mini trips. Some downloads queue for a bit.

A series of “were you paying attention? Uh huh and what did we learn?”

My goal recently had been to get rid of my masks. I want to be the same person when no one is watching as I am everywhere else

That’s all

No divide of personalities or evidence.

That’s all. I think.

Hence the part one. I’m still downloading I think.

Speaking of thinking, I’m thinking this is a good time to put this one down for the day.

Until the next download ☮️

Or page. My mind is blank. This page is about to be filled with words to empty my head.

Do you ever label the eras/timelines in your life?

The big ones?

The ones that curated who you are?

Who you were?

Changed you to who you are now from what you were then?

The big fat juicy traumas?

The life changing events?

The moves, the shoulda moves, the why did I stays?

The relationships? Oof. I doubt I’ll ever talk about those on here except in broad strokes

I could summarize my life in 7 timelines

Why 7? I don’t know. I’ve always felt connected with the number 7.

I was 7 when my parents split

14 when my dad died

21 I got my DUI

28 I committed to full time restaurant management (gross)

35 I had an emotional breakdown

42 I opened Southern

49 a light came on in my head and told me my drinking days are over.

There’s seven major events in my life right there.

One of them turned out ok I’d say the others sucked a big fat chunk of shit.

It’s not the exact years of these occurrences that may have shaped me it’s the trajectories they caused

Parent’s divorce ripped me away from being surrounded by a large somewhat volatile but loving family. Pushed me out of Greenville into a whole ass ‘nother planet of Piedmont. Complete culture shock to me with zero explanation. I had to pick the clues out of the air as they fell into my lap. If I had to fault my mother for one thing that fucked my life up it would be her communication with me during this transition. I love you dearly mom but you fucked up here.

14? A no brainer, one of my favorite people of all time died suddenly and left me to sit and rot in that god forsaken town. My grades plummeted, my life went from hanging with friends I had made in Mauldin to never seeing them again. I had two friends in Piedmont until I was 16. My father was very much attached to my young teen social life. No sports for me in high school. I hung up my cares after my dad passed.

21 I had my real taste of freedom and I went wild for a bit. I moved out of Piedmont as soon as I graduated high school but after 6 months I used my parents home like a hostel. I got it from watching my siblings do it over the years. I knew mom would always have a bed open for me. My parents kept me under lock and key for most of my teen years. Two girlfriends would tie up my time for a bit but when I hit 21 I took the governor off of my fun engine and went wild. It wouldn’t take long for a dui to cause me to lose a good job and put my ass behind financially for about 5 years. The biggest trajectory to take from this would be my introduction into the service industry. I lost my license and had to settle for whatever job I could find. Which would be serving for Fatz ass cafe. I would dip my toes into the restaurant service and it would ultimately pull me into a riptide of a tumultuous lifestyle of some fun drugs, booze and deregulated nervous system. I lived my life like a drunken sot for quite some time.

28? I tried my best to conform to a 9-5 job and completely sucked at it. I had tried my best to leave the service industry but I found the real life quite boring and too many domestic rules. I went back to the steakhouse I had been employed at for a couple of years and prostrated myself for that company. “Do with me what you will. I no longer have a vision for my future”

I gave them my entirety. My soul. The service industry would become my personality. I collapsed myself into that system.

35. This one was a mental trajectory. I can’t describe it any other way. I had a career and a long term relationship that no longer fit my soul. Two things I had attached to myself without thinking of what’s the worse that could happen? I saw the first signs of my long time company weakening. I had thrown all my eggs in one basket for a dying career and a partner that I had assimilated with for way too long. My brother had died recently and I managed to get a healthy head injury that would permanently affect my emotional health. I got lost in my mind for sometime. My drinking would ramp up, my focus on my job would shift. 35 is when my entrepreneurial mindset kicked in.

42 I was a business owner. My ego for the next 7 years would balloon. I wanted to be Alexander the Great in the restaurant industry. I wanted to conquer, expand to other cities, become the number one mother fucker in my town. You can see the old me coming out long enough just to say that..

Go back in your hole Dr. Puddin.

I sacrificed it all. Every little, single, fucking thing. I got my ass handed to me in every form. Closed business, repos, credit destroyed, marriage hanging by an overcooked noodle.

Careful for what you wish for..

49? Lost my job

Lost my business

Lost my home

Pandemics

Lost my mind.

Quite the trajectory.

Stack them all up. 7 blocks that built me

“Seven minute abs” is in my head right now..

“All 7 and we’ll watch them fall”

🎶

Would be another. Thanks symbol Prince

The 7th of the 7s would be the one that put me back together.

The 7th one was the one that built the sober me

My reckoning

My lighting of trail markers

My awakening

It’s my cake icing

It fucked me up yo.

But

It began to strip me of all the other “7s”. What the other 7s built. I bowled them over like a 7-10 split. I just wanted to throw another 7 out there for good measure. 📐

It was just training me to sloooooow down. And as I’ve said a few times

I have

And thank god because my world kept moving faster as each 7 approached. Brake check on the 7th 7 amiright??

“7 little chipmunks twirling on a branch, eating lots of sunflowers on my uncles ranch”

Thanks for that one Farrelly Brothers.

What’s the next seven gonna produce? Flying cars?

I don’t know man

But

I’m here for it.

Peace and five more y’all ✌🏼✋🏼