Bearded Gang

I’m changing habits.

Ok

I’m attempting to change habits. It’s a game of chess with my own mind and it’s bullshit because my brain knows my next move. It’s cheating. It’s like it can read my mind..

I just came back from camping for 48 hours in a random farm site in or around John’s island.

200 plus acres, semi primitive although they had an “outhouse” which the first time I took a seat I had to do a 30 second recon of what may have the capacity of crawling up my rear, down my leg or sitting shotgun while I’m doing my human nature deposit . Not trying to make you uncomfortable here folks bowel movements are the social equalizer even the pope sits on that throne. I usually find a quiet area and dig my own discardation. Yep another new word.

Anyhoo

I camp to stretch my comfort zone. Especially my two nighters where I’ll try to find a new spot in a different area. I usually camp on Hunting Island, the same island Forrest Gump got shot in the butt while looking for Bubba.

True story if you google it. Quite a few scenes from Vietnam were shot on that island.

Tangent and irrelevant

I opted for John’s island I wanted to enjoy some good food, beach sunrise and trip over some cobblestones in downtown Charleston. Charleston is a collection of some important memories for me over the years. I asked my wife to move in with me down there, we also got engaged at The Coast a year later. I received the news of my stepfather’s fatal motorcycle accident down there too while I was participating in the Cooper Bridge run. It would be my last one. As I said it’s a harbor of intimate memories. A part of me remains there when I leave.

The farm I where I stayed had about a dozen dispersed campsites under a canopy of trees along side a marsh of tide changes. It was 70°-50° while I was there that’s the perfect temp zone for me I wouldn’t want to camp near that water in summer I imagine the mosquitoes aren’t very good hosts. The pasture was dotted with cow pattied land mines. The horizon looked like a green sheet pan of unbaked chocolate drop cookies.

I bet you didn’t know I was a poet at heart.

Cows hosted the fence line. They were respectful of the road and would mosey off the path once you stared at them for a solid minute. The farm had some crooning roosters and a small family of wild pigs running around. Saw them twice before sunrise. I have to be honest I’d rather deal with an angry black bear than wild pigs. If you see one pig there’s usually 3-4 more hanging around it. Pigs can’t climb onto my truck so I didn’t worry too much although I kept my head on a swivel most of the evening by my campfire. I had my last night of sleep interrupted by what I thought were pigs foraging around my site. It took a moment of surveillance to realize I had a few cows mucking in the mud behind my site. I don’t have good experiences with cows while I camp I had a herd almost push me off of a cliff wall during a thunderstorm in the Badlands.

*yawns in adventure

There were no moos to be heard this time only the suction of hooves in deep river mud. No rhythm, no cadence just random suctions to keep me awake. Took me out of my comfort zone just not the way I intended.

I got up early both mornings to drive to folly to watch the sun come up. Cold sandy feet while I grounded myself in the beach sand. I’m a firm believer your soul gets downloads during the sunrise. I’ll gaze at the horizon while it crests over the water. Solid 30 seconds. The sun’s radiance won’t melt your corneas at dawn. Sun gazing is where it’s at y’all. When you watch the skyline and your skin starts to tingle as the sun comes up you’re doing life the right way. My final permanent residence will have access to the sunrise from my back porch. Write that shit down.

This is the fodder to my trail markers.

I drove to folly before my trip back home for one more gaze and drove straight back to unload and return to work.

After work I was going through the motions of my evening routine. Hot ass shower because I hadn’t warshed myself since Sunday, soft cozy clothes, some simple routine take out food and my ass on my sofa spot to disassociate with the day. 8:30 I go do my bedtime routine although I was too exhausted for a meditation.

When I went horizontal to sleep my mind went through my last two days of camping. I do this often, I’m programming my brain to download my experiences into happy memories. Highlighting the best ones compressing them into zip files. On a rainy day I’ll conjure these memories back up for a solid smile.

It works. Highly recommend.

This was a little different my mind was relaying all the goods and paused for a minute.

“ Hey Chad, I hear you talking about your comfort zone all the time. You like to step out for growth when you go camping”

Yes that’s correct. Now stfu I’m trying to sleep.

“Sure thing but have you noticed that as soon as you come back you celebrate by going back to the same exact routine you left off with?”

*Me lying in bed pausing..

You motherf\

“So yeah Chad what exactly are we doing here? Are we alchemizing? Because tomorrow morning it’s gonna be the same thing all over again”

Touché el pussy cat.

Not sure if that was the residual from a download but it struck a nerve. It didn’t keep me awake I went to sleep but I did add a note in my phone right before to address this today.

So hey!

This is my little post reckoning journey for myself not a self help book for anyone else. What I’m doing may not work for others but I’m knee deep in my intuition vibes this year. If the trail lights up I take that detour without any hesitation.

It works

This doesn’t mean when I get up in the AMs I go build a fire outside to make coffee although that sounds amazing right now. There’s no beach to scratch my feet in the sand, my tent is pretty much closed down for the year.

I have to pull my comfort zone thumb out of my mouth. It goes right back in there as soon as I return home. In fact I embrace it. Nothing wrong with a little comfort and familiarity but I need to recognize how easily my thought patterns go back to auto reset. It’s like going to the gym once a month. I don’t want my brain to atrophy from repeating and staying the same thing ol Chad. I’ve lived in the same constant cadence of Chadhood for decades. I’ll briefly step out of him and then rush right back. It’s that goddamn dog on a chain.

I’m not beating myself up in fact it’s the opposite. I recognize the pattern. It’s up to me what to do next.

Growth

Download complete.

I have a coffee date with one of my favorite human beings today. It’s one ritual I won’t break.

Peace ☮️

I don’t normally write in the evening time. My attention span is spent, energy is exerted and I can smell my bedtime calling me. I start dissociating with my life around 6:30. It’s 7:05 now and my complacent zone has its eyebrow raised.

Subconscious- “I see what you’re trying to do here Chad”

Sure this could be seen as a loop break but my intuition is telling me “not this time”

“Answer your inner phone calls”

Ok so here we are. I’m relaxed as I usually am at this point, I’m in my sweats, on my sofa slowly fading to my nightly routine. Bedtime rears its sleepy head in 90 minutes.

Graze is my last rung before I close shop in the service industry. Whatever that means I’m not sure but my intuition is trying to light me up like a Christmas tree.

“Hey Chad, you’ve said on multiple occasions that this deli “just ain’t it”

“We’ve been trying to reach out to you to let you know that’s ok.”

“It’s hard to leave that comfort zone”

“It’s all you know or at least all you’re willing to accept as your best option”

“You’re scared to do something else and as you should be. It’s been 30 plus years”

“Hey my friend. Just let things go. We (you and you) got this”

This week has been a hard one for me mentally. Nothing out of the ordinary which is why I get bothered because to me it’s I’m becoming the same old same old again.

Not acceptable

My snakes are hissing in my head as they do from time to time and it has me in my feels. Anger, fear, depression, impulsive thoughts. I literally want to punch the air sometimes.

But

I’m reckoning with it. I acknowledge it. I know it’s there.

Lurking

It’s fine. I’m not on a ledge although I had a little emotional outburst solo at work two days ago that made me think I was.

I got over it. The thing is I’m tired of getting over it

Listen, I’m fine really. I’m fighting with my deli mentally right now. Something isn’t magneting. Yeah I know another non existent word but I like making up my own vocabulary. I wake up in the early am and I’m feeling my vibe. I meditate, I stretch, walk, workout all with a good intentions smile. I drive to work, stop to get one more coffee for the day and pull up to Graze.

And then my energy shifts.

It’s hard to explain. It’s not everyday but the residue is still there on the good days.

I love how my deli looks

I really enjoy my time chatting with my one employee

I love all the creations coming out of it and we put a lot of love and pride into it

There’s just something not clicking.

My intuition is telling me I’m fighting against the inevitable. I needed one more thing to prove to myself. That I still could.

And

I have but I feel like I’m forcing a social experiment on myself and it’s starting to come to a close.

It’s hard for me to stand at that counter and smile. It’s just that transparent.

It’s like I’m working for someone else which is a paradox because I do this so I don’t have to work for someone else.

It’s not me I’m working for it’s my obligation. My comfort zone and this pisses me off because I’ve put quite the effort into this deli but let’s look at the facts:

I’m almost a year and a half into this and I’m still shuffling around.

I’m gonna try this next

And then this

This may work out too let’s give it a try

I just had my sign installed last week. I’ve been open since July 2024. The amount of shit that’s happened since then reads like a script after opening up a mummy’s sacred tomb. I’ve written about it multiple times. I’m not conjuring up these memories again. Not now. They’ve left a big enough stain.

The deli is pushing me away. Doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Unless I’m mistaken in my interpretation I’m fighting a wall. I’m pushing against fate

That’s fine and all

But

I could use a little direction.

This

Is

All

I

Know

In a defeated sense it’s like going to prison at 18 and doing 35 years and they let you out with no direction, no PO

I’m not in that thought process I’m being dramatic

Can you see me selling real estate? Bartending? Mechanic? I don’t even change my own oil.

I’m not feeling down yall. You’re getting front row seats to my trail markers while they download.

Downloads in the pm

Understanding in the am

Sometimes.

This was a weird one “hey Chad let’s write”

So I have. And I think I’m done for now because the download has stopped. I’m not picking up anything else but distortion.

Hell of a time for my soul WiFi to go off.

I’m zoning out for the next two days because I can. It’s one of the promises I made to myself when I opened this.. thing. I get to check out for 48 hours.

Hopefully I’m on the right path.

Cheers

You’re most likely looping right now if you’re reading this. You’re on Facebook, scrolling, reading comments, posts, opinions, reeling the reels. It’s what you do at this time of day. Before this, you probably got up, brushed your teeth, dried your mouth with the towel that always sits on the same side of the sink—or maybe you turned around and used the big towel you dried your ass with yesterday. You put your toothbrush back in the cup or the perforated stand that makes it look like a little trophy. You don’t even notice it anymore, though you once thought it looked cute sitting on a Target shelf eight months ago.

You poured yourself the same coffee you’ve been buying at Publix for years into cups that sit in the same cabinet above the same toaster that toasts the same flavored bagel you’ve loved for decades. The toaster hides the everything-bagel birdseed you can never fully clean. You’re wearing one of two lounge pants you rotate between morning and night. Sure, you own more, but only the top two ever see daylight. The others hang around just in case it’s laundry day and your favorites are in the hamper. They’re not as comfy or broken-in. Hell, your favorite pair probably has a hole in the rear. You don’t care. They’re yours.

You sit in your go-to spot on the couch or chair. Maybe the TV hums in the background. Maybe you’re half-watching videos on your phone. You sip your coffee, maybe drink a glass of water to balance the caffeine, pop a vitamin, stretch a little, think about your breakfast. Most of us rotate between the same three morning meals. If you work nine to five, your mental clock’s already ticking. Emails wait. Texts you ignored yesterday wait. You think about your gas gauge—maybe you even know the day you’ll fill up. Thursday, probably.

If it’s Thursday, you can wear that outfit again because it’s been over a week since the last time. Cooler air helps hide the repeat under a light jacket. You grab a coffee on your commute, same shop, same card, same smile at the barista who already knows your order—but you still repeat it, because three months ago someone messed it up and you haven’t let it go. Maybe you treat yourself to a pastry if you’re feeling wild. You’ve been trying to lose the same ten pounds for years, doing the same workout routine that stopped working long ago.

You park in your usual spot at work. If someone beats you to it, you’re irritated. No tree shade today. You walk in, maybe light a smoke, flick the butt in the same tray—or in the grass if you’re an asshat—and greet the same people with the same three lines: “What’s up, Stew?” “How’s it hangin’, Art?” Then you sit down at your desk, prep table, counter, or driver’s seat. Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s your loop.

We all loop. If you’re reading this, it’s because you came across it during one of your many loops. Me journaling this right now is also a loop, but I started writing to change mine—to alter the old patterns that were turning into lassoes. I call it tetherment. It’s not a real word, but it’s mine. I made it up because I needed one. I was tired of being caught by my own loops.

Words are loops too—the ones we think and the ones we say. They lasso us. Sometimes they choke us. I’ll probably loop back to that thought later. Or forget to. Brevity sneaks in when I write; it’s another loop of mine.

We sit or stand at our stations—desk, counter, grill, steering wheel—and start the next loop. Our thoughts tighten into task mode. Some people like their work; benefits are benefitting, paychecks are steady, 401k looks sexy. That’s not most of us. I’m somewhere in between. I own my business. I have good months where things feel steady and others where I’m watching the thermostat with a penny crunched between my cheeks.

We drone through our tasks, eat lunch at the same time, at the same three spots within five minutes of work—because any further gives you anxiety about being late. Once, six weeks ago, you were late to a Zoom and got chewed out. Now your brain replays that moment every time you try to relax. Sticky, shitty loops.

Some eat while they work. Some take the same cigarette break, sip the same Red Bull, munch the same candy bar. All loops. And as the day winds down, your mind builds the next set: commute, dinner, sports, show, sleep. Something different—a date, a plan—feels like a threat to the system. Disruption makes your nervous system twitch. It wants bubble wrap: safe, predictable, cozy. So you stay on autopilot. For years.

Ruts. Grooves. Humdrums. You’ve carved a trail into your brain, a hiking path from the same mental foot traffic day after day. You start at the trailhead when you wake and end where you began before bed. A loop. You know the whole path—where you’ll trip, where you’ll slip, where you’ll fall—but you trust it because it’s familiar. You’ve seen detours and said, “Nah, it’s getting dark soon. I’ll try tomorrow.” But you don’t. We don’t.

If your loops feed negativity, then negativity becomes your baseline. Wake up hating your job, and your brain will serve up reasons to keep hating it. Your brain is your yes-man. “Today sucks.” “You bet it does.” “I hate my job.” “Hell yeah, you do.” “No one likes me.” “You’re right, pal.” It’s doing its job—turning your thoughts into your reality. Casting your own spells.

“I’m stupid.” “Bet.” “Life sucks.” “Got you.” “I’m tired.” “Perfect, I’ll keep that mood steady all day.” We do this. We cast these little rituals with our thoughts, stir our own cauldrons. A dash of hopelessness, a pinch of negativity, a cup of “my life is shit.” Poof—another miserable day, conjured by none other than you.

Then we wonder: “Why can’t I catch a break?” “Why am I always struggling?” “Why did Brian get the promotion?” You’ve been walking the same trail for twenty years and still expect the scenery to change. It won’t—until you grab the wheel.

Your brain is an algorithm. I call it a brainrithm. Like social media, it feeds you more of what you click. You think about Taylor Swift, you get Taylor, Travis, Nashville, and the Chiefs. You think about being broke, you’ll start noticing bills and busted tires. I’ve become obsessed with algorithms lately—digital and human. They mirror each other. When I’m hungry, I only see food signs. When my gas light comes on, I only see stations. The key is to realize when your brain has switched itself to autopilot. That’s when you can take the wheel back.

You’re just looping.

Looping keeps you safe—or confined. Like a dog tied to a stake all its life. Cut the chain, and it still walks circles in the dirt because that’s all it knows. I travel to dissolve my patterns, to keep from clamping back to that stake. Because I was that dog—for years.

About four years ago, the trail markers started showing up. Subtle signals guiding me toward new paths. I was in my reckoning—breaking addictions but still tangled in emotional and behavioral loops. Sobriety cleared the fog, but it didn’t rewrite the wiring. It just gave me the clarity to see the mess.

Drinking carved deep grooves into my brain, and when I stopped, those grooves didn’t vanish—they just waited for me to fall back in. My routines, even sober ones, were still traps. They kept me from growing. The stake is your brain. The chain is your nervous system. The dog is you. The circle you’ve worn into the ground is your reality.

You can switch jobs, change scenery, even chase goals, but if your thoughts and habits stay the same, your life won’t. You’ll just have a new backdrop for the same movie.

One of my favorite quotes came from a spiritual guide I follow: “Stop doing stupid shit in your life that makes it suck.” I laughed when I heard it, but man, it hit. Sometimes it’s really that simple. For someone who drank away thirty years, I can confirm—it’s that simple. On paper, anyway. In practice, it’s a grind. Rewiring my brain has become my full-time devotion.

It starts with how you talk to yourself. “God, I’m an idiot.” “I’ll never get out of this hole.” “I’m broke.” “I’m fat.” “I hate myself.” We all do it. Your brain listens and keeps you aligned with those statements. It’s not turning on you—it’s following orders. You have to break that chain. It’s hard. Only because you tell yourself it is. That’s another loop feeding itself. Grab a machete and carve a new path.

Start small. Watch your language. The way you describe yourself. Even sarcasm counts. Your brain doesn’t know it’s a joke. It hears it and builds around it. Remember Stuart Smalley on SNL? The daily affirmations bit was funny—but true. Self-talk works, if you believe it. Be delusional in your favor.

I change routines often to keep my mind from numbing out. For every ten things I try, maybe three stick—but that’s enough. It’s like going to the gym for your neurons. Try brushing your teeth with your other hand. It’s awkward, but it’s rewiring. I did that for a month. It felt like trying to start a cold car every morning, but it worked. I changed my mornings too. Used to roll straight from bed to coffee and phone. Now, I go straight to the mirror and talk to myself. Half asleep, hair wrecked, eyes puffy, but I talk. Positive things. It started when I quit drinking. Every morning I said, “I’m not drinking today.” I did that for a month. That one simple loop change probably saved my life. I’m on day 1,409 of zero hangovers. The shit works.

You just have to believe it. Because if you don’t, your brain will see through your bullshit.

When I shower, I switch the water from hot to cold in intervals—been awake less than a minute, but I’m talking to myself the whole time. “Today is amazing.” Not will be. Is. When I was staying sober, I didn’t say, “I don’t want to drink.” I said, “I’m not drinking.” Subtle difference, big impact. “Yo brain, I’m driving today.” Brain: “Yeah, sure, man.”

The emotional rewiring didn’t start until this year. Opening my deli brought back all my old loops. Chadcuterie was on autopilot. It made enough to pay bills, support my family, my hobbies. But every time I saw a new charcuterie business pop up or had a slow week, it got in my head. I’ve opened restaurants before; I knew the grind, but this one was different. Sobriety didn’t erase the anxiety—it exposed it.

Vodka didn’t help me cope with emotions. It just locked them in a closet. And when I took the bottle away, the door burst open. I’d lie awake for hours, anxious, hearing the same thoughts on repeat. “I’m right back where I started.” “My work owns me again.” “I’m trapped.” “I’m going to fail.” Every slow day fed those fears.

The first day I opened Graze, I made $200. Later I realized I’d left out a major bill. I locked the door and cried. I was furious with myself. I thought sobriety was supposed to fix everything. It didn’t—it just gave me a fighting chance to start fixing myself.

Now I’m not trying to stop feeling. I’m learning to stop reacting from feeling. Emotions aren’t bad—they’re part of being human. It’s how you respond that defines you. I’ve always been quick to bark. I’m better now, but I still have moments that derail me. The work is in catching it. Redirecting the energy.

Because that’s all it is—energy. The mind directs the flow. If it points at anger, that’s what expands. If it points at gratitude, that’s what multiplies. Where your attention goes, your energy grows. It takes awareness, practice, stillness. And that’s hard in a world of distraction—especially when you carry one in your hand all day.

That’s why I write before I plug in. If I stay in the writing long enough, I forget to connect. My mornings are quieter, cleaner. I started today the same way: looked in the mirror and said, “Today is amazing.” I put on Gregorian chants. Sometimes jazz. Always something different.

When I walk, I find a new path. I take a different route to work. Not every day, but often. Sometimes I stop somewhere random just to rewire my head. I’ll drink coffee with my other hand. Switch up workouts. Read The Nag Hammadi and Jack Reacher side by side. I even build my boxes backwards sometimes—literally mess up my own assembly line—so my brain doesn’t run the show.

I’m working on the wardrobe next, but my skin’s picky. Same fabrics, same comfort zones—it’s a process. Music, though, that’s been the biggest reset. I’ve listened to the same 2,000 songs for years. They’ve become noise. Sometimes I drive in silence now. At work, I put on classical or jazz. It’s all rewiring.

Neuroplasticity—the science of changing your mind. Your brain’s clay. Stop making the same ashtray from high school art class. Sculpt something new.

Writing was my first real rewiring. Putting thoughts into words, wrestling with them—it’s changed me. Something deep inside nudged me to start. When you step off the old trail long enough, you meet that voice—the one that’s been waiting for you. That’s when the trail markers show up. That’s when “I AM” starts to make sense.

Algorithms equal brainrithms. Brainrithms equal your mind’s energy control device. Walk away from your echo chambers—social, mental, habitual. Stop. Listen. Where’s your energy going right now? Fear? Anxiety? Chaos?

You’re a supreme being in a meat suit. Act accordingly. Nothing can affect you if you don’t allow it. This is your world. Make it what you want.

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

I never sleep well when I camp. It’s the one big downside for me when I go camping. I may average 4-5 hours sleep tops. One night isn’t bad but the sequence of 6 or 7 days straight will wear you down. I’m a comfort zone person I like my bed at home it’s been tweaked over the years to create a sleep haven for me. Haven’t perfected it for camping I suppose. Three inch foam mattress doesn’t help. Pillows are average I like a memory foam pillow but they don’t relate well to cold weather. They become rocks. I keep an oscillating fan noise on my phone but it’s not the same as my fan at home. I also keep it on low because you sorta need to hear what’s going on outside your tent should there be something going on outside your tent. I heard some crispy leaves being crunched around 10pm but it didn’t concern me enough to pop my head out of my tent. Deer are everywhere up there and an occasional bear. Raccoons aren’t the quietest things at night either. I don’t fear animals when I camp. Weather can keep me on my toes at times. Never know when a tall tree has had enough of the wind. Speaking of wind I moved my spot camping to lower ground. The wind was turning my truck into a rocking chair. I picked that spot to watch the sunrise it would’ve been epic but the wind was blowing into my face. Too much for a good campfire and I don’t sleep well when the wind is whistling and it was singing a tune. Also the site is very exposed. Not much privacy it feels like you’re camping on a rocky helicopter pad and the good folk driving around the mountain like to stop there and take pics regardless of who’s trying to camp there. I don’t say much it’s not my mountain but a little camping etiquette goes a long way. I no longer have my trailer so relocating doesn’t take as much effort and time. MRE’s for dinner. Doesn’t matter what “flavor” I buy they all have the same aftertaste. I don’t eat dehydrated food for the delicacy.

My new camping set up will hopefully fix a few of these sleeping issues. Also my back and body take about two days to crack back into place. After 30 years of cement floors and multiple pivoting actions on kitchen floors my body feels like I’m playing perpetual tackle football everyday. Always wear good shoes y’all.

My daughter invited a “friend” over to our house for the first time yesterday. It was only for an hour and they hung out on our side porch. I know I come across as an aggressively protective father but I won’t be that jackass that tries to alpha male a teenager kid. I trust my daughter’s judgment. She seems happy so I’m happy. He’s someone’s kid too and I’ll treat him as such. My goal and hope in life is to never have to involve myself in my daughter’s future relationships as life goes on. There’s no flex in being an overprotective father to my daughter when it comes to this.

I’m fine. First bruise from anyone and the entire world burns to the ground.

I like to see my daughter smile. That’s all.

Halloween was a good one for the deli. I haven’t done much writing about the deli because I think enough about it as it is. I think we sold around 25 skeletons or so. Not too shabby.

Got a coffee date with my kid this morning so I know my day starts off right.

That’s all I got today folks. Happy Tuesday.. I think it’s Tuesday.

Greenville’s food scene punches above its weight. I don’t mean that in a negative way towards any of the local restaurants around here. Greenville has plenty of great options to eat around here. And that’s the problem. If I can speak out about anything with a firm stance it’s the local hospitality industry.

There are approximately 1660 plus eateries and bars in Greenville county. 200 plus just downtown. Population 570,000 with a few more here and there. 343 people per establishment. Most demographics try to hover 450-500 per restaurant. Probably a less fickle fan base also.

Out of the restaurants, bake shops, bars, coffee shops, delis let’s say on average we need 10 people to fully staff. This obviously is a very rough estimate my old restaurants were ideal with 30 people each although we ran about 10% understaffed at all times. My deli employs two full time with two part time employees. 10 is a solid number but I’ll bet it’s closer to 15. If you were to staff all of the restaurants open in Greenville it would take almost 3% of our county population to fill the roles. 1 out of 34 people would have to work in the service industry.

Working population is about 60% so it would actually be 1 out of 20 people with a service industry job. Most of those employees are just shuffling from one place to the next because they can.

1 out of 20.

1665 places to eat in this county.

There are some very fortunate places that have hit the right spot at the right time. I’ve seen some amazing places here crash and burn and I’ve watched some with frozen bags of shit on plates but they are in that vortex of supporters where they’ll never suffer except for staffing on occasion. They usually have the same waitstaff since the Carter administration. I’m not knocking them good for you I find myself putting more effort in my craft out of survival not for fun. Maybe I need to buy some microwaves.

Slow death concepts right now? White people tacos are fading fast along with breweries. Insurance is a concept killer for small dive bars and regular bars. Rent in downtown is around $40 per square foot? I could be wrong I haven’t researched lately but I’d be surprised if it was lower.

Beef is getting real interesting again. It’s been a minute since we’ve had to kill a couple of million chickens so stay tuned.

When people ask me to consult I often warn them that I’m a tad jaded but I’ll also toss these numbers at them and encourage them to find another business to throw their money away. I wish I had the luxury of opening another place in an entirely different city and market. I’ve mentioned to my wife how the charcuterie boxes would thrive in a high volume tourist area. 30A in the summer with a little spot next to all the shops? It would thrive. Then I think about overhead and staffing. No thanks.

I didn’t build Grazeland around me I built it around Greenville’s over saturated market. This is about all I know. To survive I created a function around a function. Charcuterie is a decent enough business. I know if I have slow weeks that eventually the holidays come around and I make my grab and dash. Wedding season helps and Halloween looks to be a good time for me. I added sandwiches because I already have meat and cheese I just needed a bakery to bring me bread. Charcuterie is 75% of my sales. If I depended on the deli side I’d be out of business already. Everyday I’ll have a handful of customers come in for the first time and remark “this is the best sandwich I’ve ever had” and then never see them again. Greenville is tough. I used to do a small local market in my deli but no one bought anything. Grab and go specials? I’d throw most of them away. I quit making pudding because I’d throw it away after a week. Then I’d see someone remark about a fast food chain’s pudding being out of this world and it literally is poured out of a 10# can. I’ve already mentioned I’m jaded.

I got lucky by grabbing a chunk of the charcuterie business at the right time. I branded it well and am fortunate to be one of the first people you go to for charcuterie. I worked diligently to get there it wasn’t handed to me. Every few months or so I’ll see some asshat around here trying to replicate what I do. I’m not referring to the charcuterie part I didn’t invent fucking charcuterie hell I couldn’t even pronounce it 6 years ago. It’s the deliberate use of pizza boxes and my style is when I shake my head and then give you the finger through my phone. Use a little effort to create your own shit. Someone got upset with me several years ago for calling them out for using a Chinese togo box with little fried morsels in it and a dipping sauce that looked just like one of my most popular dishes at Southern. Some people can only replicate.

Greenville rarely has any new ideas it’s mostly a regurgitation of ideas from other places restauranteurs enjoy or a carbon copy of a concept they want to replicate. Believe me on this one I was just exposed to it for years. I cut my teeth with one.

Greenville tourism is decent enough for downtown restaurants to thrive. Swamp rabbit helps Travelers Rest but the busiest eatery out there is the chick fil a. The residents hate the ever growing population up there. A simple glance into the resident page will tell you that. If you aren’t in these locations the tourists will never hear about you if you aren’t exhalted on yelp. Yelp actually helps my exposure to out of towners. It’s definitely not the city whose main social media page won’t even acknowledge my presence without a $500 boost.

My jading is showing.

I’m not better than anyone else I’ll read that a restaurant I enjoyed dining at closed recently and then realize I hadn’t eaten there in the last year. Two miles from my home.

Why? As an honest consumer it would be

1. Price point was just a tad more than I’d want to spend for a regular night out. $75 for two people isn’t a regular dinner for me.
2. The fare was a little too specialized for me. Yes I like that style of food but it’s not on my weekly digestion rotation.
3. In that two mile radius I have literally 200 other places to chose from. I live in the city.
4. Like most of Greenville I’m a creature of habit. If you are able to sink your consumerism into my routines you’re gold. I’m just like everyone else I’m looking for a 5 tool concept of pricing, above average fare, consistency, atmosphere and friendly service. Preferably local. Those aren’t high standards.

I just eliminated 75% of the places in Greenville. Even some of my favorite go to’s have changed owners and aren’t the same anymore.

The general public doesn’t understand the food cost chain. If your hamburger meat went up from $2.50 a pound to $6 a pound at the grocery store that means the food purveyors prices went up too. A simple example of food costs is you mark up your pricing 300% across the board for your menu. If you’re serving an 8oz burger patty that used to be $2.50 a lb (that was the price of ground beef before Covid) then your patted protein would be $1.25. Marked up 300% and that’s loose because 33.3% food cost is a tad high then your burger price starts at $3.75 add bun, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion and a dollop of mayo and it may (last time I costed it out buns were $.34 each, cheese $.26 lto .$16 cents a squirt of mayo $.05) that would put you right at $6.80 for just a regular old burger in 2019. 33% is not the best food cost so if you pushed it down to 30% it would be around $7.20. Give or take here folks I’m not using a calculator I used to do food cost in my head for fun.

2025

Last time I checked ground chuck was around $5 lb. That’s the 81/19 regular ground with a toenail or two included. So now it’s 2.50 per patty buns are around $.40, cheese probably $.30 lto hasn’t blown apart although iceberg lettuce is high right now. So that same cheeseburger went up to around $11.35 with a 30% food cost in mind. $11.35 sounds reasonable but let’s not forget to add some fries to that. Bacon? $4 a lb average if you’re using 18-22 per that means you get 18-22 pieces of bacon per pound. Thats some skinny ass bacon around 25% of that will break, crumble or get too burnt on the corners because your convection oven is surly. We will round it out to 16 perfect slices of bacon per pound. You know you’re gonna eat a slice or two while you’re working. $.25 per slice of bacon. Two slices per burger =$.50 so mark up is $1.50 ish. Now your burger is around $13. Still haven’t added the fries. Last time I costed potatoes out fries were around $.40 per ideal portion. Ideal. If you own a restaurant that serves fries go through your trash on the line and see how many fries are hanging out. I used to keep a 5 gallon bucket on the line for “fry trash” to see how much we threw out. We’d fill it up on a Friday night. So fries $1.50 additional menu upcharge. Fry oil was also around $20 a box then. The shittiest brand is about $30-$36 now. Don’t quote me on that though. Anyway your burger is now $14.50- $15.00. $15.12 if you like pickles.

The consumer doesn’t calculate for market increases in the service industry like they do the grocery stores. They expect restaurants to eat more of that 4% bottom line. All they see is their favorite burger place go up 30% over the next year and either eat at home or opt for the Soylent Green burgers the fast food chains serve. I used to work for a steakhouse when steak prices were considered high at $9 a lb I can’t imagine what it must be like now. You gotta have some balls to open a steakhouse right now. Or anything for that matter. When I opened LTO we were labeled too expensive for a double pattied burger with brisket, sirloin and short rib grind for $10.95

With side included and bacon. You see Greenville likes the finer things in the foodie world but they don’t want to pay for it out of their pocket. I’ll watch customers at the deli raw dog a footlong sandwich with no beverage because I don’t offer free tap water. I charge $1.50 for beverages and bottled water.

I’ve said it for years. Greenville wears the crown of a foodie town. It’s just made of brass.

The food is here. The support is not. Greenville is a value seeking town and that will never change. Sure there are some fantastic foodies here I’m surrounded by them.

Greenville is unique with its ever growing service industry without the population to man it and support it.

But

We keep opening up new ones every week.

The bubble burst long ago. Put your half million/million dollar investment into something else. Or at least another city. I’m not jaded when I say that it’s simple economics here.

I’m glad I don’t depend on consulting for my income..

If you’re kicking ass out here kudos to you old boy but don’t take it for granted. It can fade fast. From what I’ve heard..

I’m about to hit the middle of my lease soon. Always got the things on my mind. Might have my sign up by the end of it. I could give you some fun stories of dealing with the city along with trying to run a business too but then we are really talking jaded.

I think I used the word jaded about a dozen times here.

Jaded

Anyway hit me up if you ever need restaurant consultation. Cheers

This week has been an odd one. Ups and downs neither one topping the other I suppose it evened out to an ebb and flow tie at the end of the week. Maybe that’s how the score is supposed to rest at times.

Leveled out.

The market crashed at the deli. In the literal sense my shelving took a fall the other day shattering all of my market inventory along with some Lego trophies my wife made and some fake plants. I had some chili flake oil and hot honey that didn’t want to leave my concrete floor without some extra elbow grease. The market never took off from day one. The stock was gaining dust. I guess this was the encouragement I needed to get rid of it.

Could’ve been a little less dramatic about it.

Charcuterie side was busy this week. Sold out my little skeletons and exceeded my expectations for box sales.

Ebb- shelving going for a high dive

Flow- sold out of charcuterie Friday

Ride the wave and dust yourself off.

If this is the beginning of charcuterie season it was quite the launch. I’ll watch my one assistant that helps me with boxes on high volume days and he’s already feeling it. Buddy you have no idea..

We’ve only just begun 🎶

Sold my trailer on Thursday. My ideal situation was supposed to be sell all attached to it but the buyer only wanted the trailer. That actually worked out in my favor. I still have my complete camping set up on my truck until I decide to change my set up. The trailer was the main piece I wanted to change out. Keeping my awning and fingers crossed it works with my next set up.

Next set up I stewed on for a bit. My wet dream was a Kimbo camper. My dream part was to find one used for a great price. Brand new they can reach over $30k and there was no scenario of me purchasing one at that price. I can’t swallow that much money for something that sits on my truck. To each their own plus the wear and tear for 980 lbs sitting on top of something that allows up to 1000 lb payload is too close for comfort for me. Air bag shocks would add more cost. Love the look, love the setup. It’s too much on too many levels.

I’m about 90% commited to a more simpler style of camping. Found a camper top company in Colorado that makes a large lightweight shell with overhead bulk storage. Bed/couch setup is what sold me. I just want a camper top I can sit up in like a regular bipedal humanoid without my head bumping into an aluminum ceiling and put my feet up. Wind won’t blow me around or I have to jump into the cab of my truck if there is lightning about. A portal for a diesel heater and insulation for the cold winter nights. My bones don’t care for 25° nights. Small local business with what looks like a close knit group of guys working well together. That’s my kind of brand.

My boy math is to buy things I enjoy that hold their value as long as you take care of them and then sell them when you’re ready. I call them hobby investments. Not really an investment as far as your money return but I sold my trailer for close to the same price as I bought it after three years ago. Minus shipping and assembly that is. She’s been to New England, Arizona and Utah twice. Multiple trips to the coast and half a hundred times to the mountains. I got my money’s worth. I give that trailer a 9/10. My only regret is my gas mileage pulling it and it did hinder some tight camping spots. I’m excited about my new set up.

I’m trying to discard the word “tired” from my vocabulary. I feel the overuse of it in my head only encourages the vibe it brings. I found myself using it quite a bit this week. Still working on it. Maybe I’ll find a new word or term to express it more positively.

Well used

Comfortably extinguished

Delightfully deflated

My weekend is approaching, it may be a refuel/rest day or I might try to lower my body temperature in the mountains. Rain may damper that adventure. The urge to drive may also.

Time change tomorrow. I’m happy to see the sunrise before 7:40 again. Night time at 6pm doesn’t bother me like it used to. I’ve slowly become a fall/winter person I often wonder if it’s because my tenure of life replicates. I’m more comfortable in soft fluffy clothing. Heat sources, foggy breath in the morning. What I don’t like is my glasses fogging up from the humidity, mosquitoes dining on my ankles, mother nature’s magnifying glass sun piercing my uncovered scalp.

I’m in my zone.

My heart is dancing to a November tune.

It’s Sunday morning. My weekend. I normally have a Sunday morning routine I observe although it’s not intentionally a ritualistic process but over time like most things I do it has become one.

Wake up and immediately shower

Stretch my joints with a little yoga

Make my cup of coffee

Sit in my sofa spot, put my headphones on and pick a hertz to vibe to.

Check all the medias and plan out my day

Everyday of the week is similar to this routine the only thing that makes Sunday different is I have no watch to watch. I don’t concern myself with deadlines it’s my first day off and it’s meant to reset. Today I chose to reset my reset differently. I’m going through a rewiring phase.

I’m changing the way I think and react to things.

My approach to daily living.

A fresh new coat of paint for my personality

I stood outside bare foot and stretched under the stars, no music, no coffee. Allowed the cold grass to wake me up. Grounding, star gazing. Three or four minutes of simple tai chi to warm up my body. Went back inside took my shower, brushed my teeth, dressed and put my headphones on. Picked out an album I’ve never listened to and sat on my sofa for about 30 minutes. No phone, no meditation although this could be considered a form of it.

I just sat still. I only listened with no itinerary on my mind.

Im a student of this rewiring process. Your rituals, patterns, routines harness your thoughts. Simple terms if you repeat the same process every single day your mind becomes an echo chamber of the same thoughts, emotions and feelings. If you’re happy and flowing like a happy little duck in a stream then good for you. If you’re struggling then this is a good way to begin a reset with your patterns. I’m not a fan of prescriptions or pills to fix me. I realize there are some that it’s necessary for but at the same time I wonder how much effort was involved.

Around 20 years ago I tried to insert myself into the padded room lifestyle and was met with a catalog of pill suggestions. I gave it a shot and quickly realized they weren’t for me. The drugs subdue my mental anguish. They did the opposite.

If I need to cry I should be able to

If I’m angry I should let out a scream of rage. Suppressed emotions from an alien source in my body didn’t resonate with me. I walked away from prescriptions. All of them honestly even when I had my ankle operated on I skipped the pain meds they gave me.

I’ve been up for roughly two hours and I already feel off kilter but in a good way. I’m off balance, a tad out of my comfort zone and my brain is trying to catch up.

“Hey what’s going on Chad? You’ve changed your patterns. I can’t keep you safe while you’re doing this”

Exactly

Let me take the wheel for a bit *turns off navigation and pulls onto a random county road.

Hey man, we may get lost for a bit but we also get to see a new perspective. Change the station and roll the windows down I don’t care how cold it is outside.

We are currently on the county road today and will maintain course for the morning.

I should already be well into my walk but I’m relaxing on my sofa listening to Del the Funky Homosapien. One of his albums I’ve never listened to.

I’m about to order some cacao for my new morning beverage. That will really shake up my morning routine. The proper way to create a good hot cup of real cacao is deliberate preparation and takes a little time. I think one of my favorite things about making coffee at camp is also the process. The boiling of the water outdoors over a small stove or fire, pour over. Steam coming from your cup as you mix your accoutrements. It’s not any different than say making your own shop or pouring it out of a can. You taste and appreciate the process. You made it. It’s yours.

Creativity promotes rewiring.

Shaking up your daily steps

Changing your route to work

If you have a specific routine when you walk into work change it up. I’ve always been a creature of habit because it’s safe. If you’re keeping yourself safe in a world you aren’t happy in then it’s time to break the safety chains.

Some of my best hikes were spots I had no intention of hiking. They weren’t on my “schedule” or itinerary” this is why I throw the life’s playbook away when I go on my long road trips. It can be stressful. It doesn’t always work out the way I want it to but I still to get experience things I’ve never tried before. I purposely camp in spots that give me a little more awareness to my surroundings. Places I have to check my perimeter to make sure I’m safe, sealing up food so a 600lb grizzly doesn’t treat me like a lollipop, my head on a swivel because I found mountain lion tracks next to my fire pit.

This isn’t routine. My brain moves to a higher awareness. Is it an ideal rewiring? I think so I don’t see it as a fight or flight situation I’m not sitting in fear I’m hyper aware of the sounds and smells around my campsite. I sit with my back to my truck, fire in front of me and I’m more relaxed than a baby in its mother’s arms. I’m just more aware. And I have a large caliber gun sitting within arms reach.

My long trips always rewire my system. It’s literally why I go. The hard part is sustaining the new hardwiring when I come back. I have the tendency to go right back into my “real” world. I go home and sit in the same spot on the sofa, make the same brand of coffee to sip and look at the same three bullshit social medias. I’ll drive to work on my congested route, listen to the same type of music or podcast and unlock my deli and proceed to have the same half dozen convos with my coworker. I’ll bitch about the same things while I work and go home to share them with my wife on the same spot on my sofa, eat dinner and go back to the same three medias again.

I’ll find myself in a rut that I have complete control over and yet I’ll carry on like it’s apart of life and there’s nothing I can do about it.

It’s just easier that way.

I read a book of poetry written by Rumi a 13th century Persian poet earlier this year. I had typed in my phone notes one of his quotes “Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

I don’t recall ever typing this out. It doesn’t mean I didn’t my mind tends to go all over the place but it looked as if I had typed it out and discarded the thought. For a week I was getting little notification prompts on my phone screen. I kept seeing one of my notes popping up “why do you…?” but I rarely pay attention to the little banners or notifications when I’m working plus I wear my glasses full time now and it’s difficult to read with them on. I’m the opposite of everyone else my age I suppose. I have to take my glasses off to read. After about a week my mind finally pinged on this note that kept popping up on my phone

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”

Like I said I don’t recall writing out that message on my phone but my phone decided it was time for me to see it. The meaning is subjective and can be taken to mean many different things but I got what I needed from it. I stared hard at it for a few seconds with a quiet little “wtf” in my head. Why would’ve I typed this and nothing else? When did I do this and why the fuck is it showing itself out of nowhere now?

Trail marker from my soul. The one that started talking to me in February.

I created the cage I’m in. I didn’t just create it I curated it. Through my life experiences, trauma, fears, hesitations, and perceptions. I built it. The door is wide open there are no keys I’m just afraid to step out of it. Watching the same show on my tv because I know how it’s going to end. No surprises to take me out of my comfort zone.

The last few months I’ve been going through a rewiring process to allow me to step out of my cage into the darkness. No gun, no campfire or headlamp to find my way.

I guess what I’m trying to prove to myself is if life ain’t grand then change the channel. Change your music, your tone, your routines, thoughts, patterns and step out of your doorless prison.

Im now currently listening to a new album by a band I’ve never heard of this morning. I’m going to read a little from an author I’ve never read before. On a different spot on my sofa and maybe even eat a new dish for breakfast before I try a new routine today.

Leaving my prison.

I had a nightmarish dream last night. Not a Frankenstein chasing me around my kitchen dream it was one that felt real. Lucid. It wasn’t scary it was emotionally crippling. It’s one of those when you wake up you let out a minute long sigh. You don’t even care about the loss of sleep in fact you fall right back into sleep due to the elation of finding out it only a dream.

I’ve read in my little algorithms of random readings that dreams can be your subconscious shuffling through your other realities. I’ve always pondered on that aspect. I occasionally have dreams of the same places. Some lucid others so obscure that I can only pinpoint certain objects in the room like a disheveled dresser with the top drawer always open. I rarely dream. But when I do they’re doozies. I won’t go into details of this one. It involved the old alcoholic Chad. Guess in the 8 billion realities we can shuffle in and out of that one would be one of my least favorite.

It was only a dream.

My other places I dream about are random areas I’ve never been before. One reality I’m living in a small motel suite, right next to an old 80’s hotel bar. I have a twin bed and clothes all over the floor. I call that the meth Chad reality.

Another I’ve been on this steep winding road in the mountains. High gorge type rock walls. Always descending. I’ve never been on this road in fact it seems a little animated.

Some dreams I’ll walk along a new roadside on my morning walks and feel like I’ve dreamt about the street or if I’m driving on a different road. I call that the one day ahead Chad. I need for him to share his lotto ticket info with me.

Sometimes I just Deja vu.

That dream woke me up. It’s a reminder of how quickly my life can change with adding my old friend back to my life.

No thanks I’m good.

I gave my daughter the day off from counter work at the deli today. Fam scored tickets to the SC/Bama game. Unfortunately I live with Alabama fans. My kid was scheduled to work but she won’t grow up thinking about working that counter as much as she will thinking about that first USC game she went to in Columbia. I never had the opportunity for these days at her age. I worked every weekend.

I still do.

No I’m not filling my head up with self pity I enjoy having days off when everyone else is working. Less traffic, people and lines. I want my child to have and do things I couldn’t. You don’t build your kid’s character by trying to raise them in the same shit stew you grew up in.

I’ve got about 15 feet of customs to do. It’ll be a doozy of a day and then a couple of days off. No adventure to be had this weekend and that’s just fine. My sofa is calling my ass.

I hooked up an amp to my record player with some old school Realistic speakers I bought from Don’s Audio on Laurens road. He used to do audio for Southern. He had an 80’s amp and speakers on cosignment for a gentleman who bought it brand new almost 40 years ago. He brought it to that deli and wired it up for me. He’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet his store is right by Costume Curio if you ever need any audio he’s your guy.

I grabbed Beastie Boy’s -Paul’s Boutique album and turned the amp on. My head pinged like it did when I bought my headphones. It was meant to be. I put Led Zeppelin II on and I was in my parent’s basement in the 70’s for two sides. For me listening to a record player on a Bluetooth speaker is like watching a vhs movie on an 8k screen. Love the energy it brings to the deli. I’m a sucker for those Japanese vinyl bars.

I put my trailer up for sale last month. I’m starting to get some traction with it although some of it is “how much for just the tent?”

I love LOVE this trailer. It’s more than I need. I’ve gone cross country with it and without.

Pros? I have a pull out kitchen

A cabinet that opens so I can prep and cook on it like a prep table.

All the storage one could use for long trips. Two additional pull out drawers, another for my generator.

I can park it, unload it and use it as my hub when I find my destination. I can leave my awning and tent open, go hike or explore, come back to my home base and take a nap. If I don’t use the trailer and I forget something then I have to break the tent and awning down before I can go anywhere. If my bed is set up that means pulling my bedding out and starting over. Not a terrible thing but if it’s raining or 30° it’s inconvenient.

Cons

I drive on a lot of gravel county roads that can get tight. Trying to make a three point turn while pulling a trailer can be difficult. It impedes some of my exploring.

Gas mileage is terrible. Tacomas are my favorite vehicles I’ve owned several but their gas mileage is shit. Pulling a trailer I get about 9 mpg. I don’t like stopping for gas every 190 miles and those hilly western roads are going to put a lot of wear and tear on my transmission.

The more storage you have the more shit you bring. The more shit you carry the more you’ll unload at every site. That starts to consume time. I love a solid camping mise en place. My little home away from home but when I’m trying to visit 6 different towns in 9 days it gets time consuming. I only use about 40% of my gear that I bring. I used to sleep out of my truck bed. It was cramped but my set up was ready when I pulled off the road I just didn’t enjoy the head room.

I’ve been researching options for the last year and found what works for me. I was fanboying over Kimbo and Scout campers but $35k doesn’t resonate with me for a hobby. My wife would agree. If I were a single person with no responsibilities that price tag would still make me wince.

Never say never but definitely not right now. Plus I have some little additions I want to add to graze after the holidays.

Found a solid camper top online that extends about 40 inches higher over the bed line and widens about 8 inches on each side. Insulated with RV style windows and an overhead storage bay so I’m not tripping over my gear. Comes with a fold out double or queen bed option that you can stow away or fold into “couch mode”. I can actually pull over anywhere and climb in the back and take my roadie siesta.

It ain’t cheap but it ain’t $35k

I’m looking forward to seeing how this comes together. The only downside is I’ll have to find a cozy place for my camping roommate Shane to enjoy on our roadtrips. He talks in his sleep.

I’m wrapping this ramble up I’ve got a solid day of work and then my weekend.

Cheers yall.

I’m one of those types that if the speed limit is 55mph I’m going 64.5. If everyone else is driving 70 then I’m right behind you doing 69.9. I’m going forward as fast as I can get away with. Traffic lights anger me they impede my forward motion. Especially the smaller intersections where I may sit for 45 seconds at an empty 4 way crossing. How dare you stop me for nothing.

I’m always going faster than I have to.

Want to watch me lose my complete shit? Put someone in front of me doing the exact speed limit that’s posted. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have somewhere to go? Why the hell are you even in your car? Go under the speed limit and I’m having fantasies of murder. Left lane? I’ll come for your family.

I’m joking.

But

Not by much.

I’m this way with everything.

Driving

Walking in malls or supermarkets

Costco? Fuck you if you aren’t pushing your cart at least 2.5 mph. They should have battering rams and horns. Either type of horn works for me to be honest. I’ll honk or gore. Your choice.

Long lines? That means standing still. Are you trying to kill me? I absolutely have to be moving.

Rest days are a joke for me. I’ll relax until about 10am then I’m doing something. Moving something, driving somewhere.

None of this is an exaggeration. I’ve been programmed over time. I imagine if I’d chosen a career of a librarian or a DMV clerk my forward motion would be much slower. Sense of urgency? Literally everything I do is attached to that vibe.

I woke up at 5:45 today. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossed and turned for no reason life ain’t bad just some nights my mind wanders. I normally get up at 5 at the latest. I get up do some Gangwer style tai chi, meditate, coffee, shower and walk before work. Add journaling into that time slot. I allocate three hours for it. Since I woke up at 5:45 I feel like my whole morning now is discombobulated. I have to sacrifice and of course I sacrifice anything that slows me down so no meditation, no chi and I cut my morning walk out by half. I’m still journaling but boy you outta see how often my eye scans the top left hand of my phone to see what time it is.

Every little thing I do is 9.5 miles over the speed limit.

I hate it. It affects my everything.

It’s what makes me high strung even though I’m in my 50’s.

*sips fourth cup of coffee

Maybe I should switch to decaf.

Just an fyi I rarely drink caffeine after 9am. I would probably die..

I’m trying to regulate my nervous system. I’ve become hyper aware over the last few months after my reckoning time was served that this was the next step.

Taming the fascia.

Obeying my own speed limit.

Cruising in the right hand lane on a sunny Sunday afternoon on a scenic highway. One hand on the wheel. Throw the damn horn out the window.

Setting my own personal cruise control. Taking the foot off of life’s accelerator.

It ain’t easy. Putting the bottle down was easier. I rarely drank before 5pm. All I had to do was keep the bottle away from me for the last few hours out of my day. Slowing things down starts at sunup and ends when I’m asleep.

I’ve known only one vocation my whole life. I’ve had a few other jobs such as a greens keeper at a golf course, I bagged groceries and even tried my hand at mortgage lending but it’s always been the hospitality industry for me.

There ain’t nothing hospitable on the other side of the counter.

I can’t speak for all vocations but I can speak firmly and accurately about mine. I was thrown into the foray of the service industry. No helmet no shoulder pads hardly any instructions.

Man I hate forced deadlines. They’ve been the bane of my existence for almost 40 years.

40

The Hyatt we had around 3 minutes to respond to room calls to and knock at their door to grab their luggage. The transportation side you may have an hour to drive to the airport and back or it may be 45 minutes. Ever gotten cussed out by a pilot for making him late for his own plane trip?

Serving? Just constant ptsd of your food coming out in a timely manner. Just take the fucking AZ steakhouse that I became brainwashed in for 16 years

Serving?

You had 45 seconds to greet the table with bev naps down

90- 120 seconds first rounds arrive. Rub a fucking lamp if you think service bar will have your margarita ready in two minutes on a Friday night. Apps out in 4-6 minutes, entrees 12-14 minutes. If they order dessert 6 minutes tops.

For a few months I was the guy in the kitchen that got yelled at once the tickets started reaching 17 minutes and they did often.

For about 10-12 year I was the guy that yelled at the kitchen when tickets hit 17. 20 minutes meant a table call. Table calls at Arizona in Greenville were a hoot. The things people will say to you when their food is late is astonishing. I got my face ripped off at least once a week. That was a good week. Simpsonville? Don’t get me started. Columbia? Worst of all three. My last two years I’d travel to all of the steakhouses and teach the managers how to yell at the line on expo. What a time to be alive man. I used to lose my voice every year from expoing. Southern I did inside expo. I had a dream just last night that I was working inside expo there. Haven’t expoed in 5 years. I’m still having in the weed dreams.

Weeds = PTSD. Perpetual fucking weeds

We could go round and round and round but I lose some of you after around 2000 words.

Brevity

Do I still experience the weeds in the deli? You bet your ass. I’ve fixed quite a bit but there will be days sandwich tickets get lost or I have to drive to Publix in 20 seconds because we sold 15 Bahn mis and now we are out of cilantro. Charcuterie? It’s all a deadline and timing situation. You fall behind when you have $2000 in boxes in 8 hours you’re fucked.

Completely fucked.

There’s no outside expo who will jump over the line and help out. There’s no bail. One lovely afternoon we had accidentally scheduled two grazing tables on the same Saturday. One in Clemson and one in Marietta. We drove to Clemson with the table for Marietta. We didn’t even get the first one right. I drove 85mph down 414 and arrived at the ceremony 3 minutes late. I still had to drive back to the station to make another grazing table with components I no longer had. We had friends driving around Greenville buying wooden boards and bowls. We did an another grazing table in 3 hours.

3

Hours

I almost walked away from my business that day. Not because it was as one bad day it was the accumulation of all of them coming back to me. My wife saved me that day by holding my belt loop while I dangled over the edge of a building. She’s done that a lot over the years.

I’m already high strung. This business feeds it. Sustains it. Sometimes mocks it. When you read about my burnout this is why. The weeds have broken me a hundred times and I still have to get back up or go away. Where the fuck would I go?

Breaths in

Breaths out

Yesterday I drove the speed limit the entire time. My morning walk I took my time and shortened it by a mile on purpose. Still walking just easier pace. I always find myself walking faster the last mile because I feel time creeping up on me. Even on my days off.

I’ve talked about how I make my coffee every morning like I’m first rounding a table. I changed my routine and now make it when I get home from work. I use a reverse osmosis machine for water. It’s like a watching a 90 year old man pee. It takes me a solid 6-7 minutes to make coffee. I do this specifically to slow my ass down. The fact that I can tell you that it takes 6-7 minutes is because I’m timing myself without even thinking about it.

It’s all still there. I’m even attempting to slow down my speech patterns.

Even when I write I’m trying to finish at a certain time. I’ll cut things short if I don’t.

Recreational activities I also rush. If I’m camping I’m hauling ass to my destination.

I’m setting up camp like a war storm is coming. The breakdown I’ll start the night before. I’ll have everything tidied up before bed. So I can get home as fast as I can. When I hike buddy I’m hiking like the park is closing in an hour.

I wasn’t born this way. My career molded me.

Programmed me

Ruined me

That last one was a little dramatic. I’m not ruined I’m fixing it bit by bit.

*looks at the time on my phone.

I’m driving the speed limit all day today.

In my car

In my deli

On my walk

Even if I go to Costco I’m doing the speed limit and I’m hanging in the right lane.

Slow and steady wins the race..

That’s what Ned Flanders would always say in the Simpson Road Rage video game.

Don’t think I’ll ever be Ned enough but at least im trying.

If my parents had stayed together my childhood could’ve became worse. My mother no longer loved my father. What if he had still passed at the same time and it had just been my mother and I? She couldn’t drive, she didn’t work. No financial means to keep us safe. My siblings were all moved out by then.

Tom brought security. He didn’t bring love at first but it did come. I don’t think it happened well into my late teens so ten years it took. Tom was aggressive, loud and cross at times. That was my perception

But

He was a hard worker. He was stubborn as fuck and he was sober. He quit drinking years ago. Just an occasional beer. He supported my mother and let her be Peggy. That’s not easy. He taught me how to be independent. He gave me a work ethic.

My childhood wasn’t ideal.

But

It wasn’t bad. I’m strong in hand and mind. I have an edge that I needed for this ride. Tom gave it to me. He was meant to and when I got old enough to carry that edge he softened because he no longer needed it. Tom was the baton to my grit. Adding to that my mother’s pride and my father’s love and you have me.

I am what this created. I don’t look back on my old school bus fights as a violent ritual but more as a sculpting. My life was going to be a hard one so it taught me how to fight. I’ve been hit in the head so many times I no longer flinch.

In the life sense. It gave me that edge that I see finally dulling not because of my age or tenacity but because of the peace I’ve found. I’m passing that baton onto my daughter. In my own way. The way I was meant to for her. In fact everything that happened to me as a child, teenager and young adult I’ve utilized it in the upbringing of my daughter. Part of who she is now is from my life lessons. I’ve impressed these on her. I’d say 90% good and 10% bad. I still smile at the “bad” it’s not anything terrible it’s just some familiar traits that come with being a part of me. She’ll outgrow most of it eventually.

My relationships prepared me for settlement. I got some big emotional bruises from them. I used to refer to them as scars but I turned them into bruises.

Bruises hurt to the touch but they heal. And so did I.

Listen

You can’t be deliriously happy without knowing what soul crushing sad is.

You can’t be grateful without knowing about loss

You don’t know your strengths if you aren’t aware of your weaknesses.

I’ve been a mass of personalities, traumas, bad decisions, heartbreaks, anxiety and poorly timed decisions. Like a pinball in a shittiest arcade theme.

I needed all of this to reach the high score.

Like a rock statue that was never sculpted by hand but by nature.

Natural

Original

Unique

And still standing

Smiling

This is how I make peace. I rewrite the stories of my life with different endings. Perceptions.

It works.

Take some of the shittiest times of your life and write them out with completely different perspectives and the ending changes. Your trauma will follow suit. As will your mental health.

It’s like sculpting with your mind as the chisel.

Life isn’t always bad when you’re looking at it in your rear view mirror and you can see that beautiful horizon that you created behind you.

Peace ☮️