I get lazy sometimes while writing in this journal. I’ve started a subject about my psilocybin journey last week and a little story about my childhood at my old apartment complex. Both of those are dangling around half constructed while I write these short little mind pop ups. The pop ups don’t take much commitment or thought for that matter. It’s Sunday morning I made a ten footer yesterday and I had to make myself available for socializing since it was my lady’s 40th birthday. I spent two hours in a bar scene last night. Can’t recall the last time I did that and the last time I had spent more than two hours in this particular bar it wasn’t a good night for me.
The bar I’m referencing is my good friend’s Society. Obviously I wasn’t making reference to the bar itself for my bad night just my reckless behavior and affinity for drinking up half the bar which is what I did that night. In all honestly if I were to create a timeline for my reckoning that night would play significant part in my changing of the guard in my lifestyle.
No triggers last night and I wasn’t expecting any. It was my wife’s big 40 and I couldn’t imagine a better place for her to enjoy herself with 20 of her bestest of friends. If any of you read these I’m grateful for you support and making my favorite person smile.
At least until 8 when I went home. I left my wife in good hands. She has some amazing friends in her corner. It’s a testament to her character. Also might I add it was a little surreal to have my daughter at an adult celebration. As much as I want to encourage her to be her own I hope these gatherings don’t draw her into the same lifestyle as I had created myself.
My daughter is much smarter than me. I won’t try to barricade her from my fears my parents tried it with me and all it did was add gasoline to the fire.
Overall a good time to as had. I had my one allocated beer for the evening, enjoyed a juicy burger and patted myself on the back for wearing pants and talking to the public.
It’ll be awhile before I do that again.
Got express camping on my mind today. No tent, no double stoves for grilling or big awnings to sit under just my truck, chair and a jet oil burner for coffee and MREs. Fonta Flora brewery is right down the road from me so I may partake in their food trailer. In the old Chad days I used to drive up that mountain, stop at the brewery, chug two beers and go find a campsite to drink my bottle of vodka. Sometimes I’d pass out with my truck tailgate wide open. Wake up and expect to see bears sniffing my toes. I’d be so hungover I would forgo my hike that I drove two hours up the mountain to traverse and go home.
What a life
My mind has these thoughts in my head. The bars don’t trigger my wanting for alcohol but they do spike some old memories. I woke up this morning with some old hangovers on my mind. I got up at 5 feeling groggy only because I stayed up a little later and maybe the bar atmosphere took a little energy out of me. I know the socializing did but it was great to see some old friends. I wish it didn’t take celebrations to celebrate.
I need to socialize. My one full time employee is probably tired of my rants.
Shout out to Barry (my one full time employee) for being my pin cushion of random conversations and songs I sing to him on a hourly basis. I don’t think anyone else other than Jess can put up with that. 12 years that dude has stuck by my side even when I could only give him 15 hours a week of work in my old hotdog trailer.
It’s weird seeing some friends you haven’t seen in years. Your memories affiliate them in the time slots you spent the most time together or at least for me it does. The grays, the wrinkles, the ever so slight years of unobtrusive gravity slowly pulling things down on our bodies. Some of our glasses get thicker along with our cheeks and butts. This is life yall I’m not poking fun at anyone I’m sitting on the bench with you.
Aging is surreal to me. I’ve become a little obsessed with observing mortality and how fragile it is.
And birds. Not sure when birds became cool to me but here we are.
There was a camp spot I pulled up to last month that’s calling me for some reason today. I’m suppose to camp there tonight or at least my instincts are suggesting it. It was the one that got completely washed away. I didn’t like the energy that came from that specific spot when I first pulled up. To be honest I almost drove back home because of it. Now it’s calling me back. In fact it’s been calling me back since the morning I left it hence why I’m going back up that mountain today.
Instincts are wild man. Once you put away all the distractions and open your mind up they’ll start to talk to you more and more. If it feels like you have to do it then go fucking do it. Get back to me and tell me how it feels. Just bear in mind you don’t always get it right but when you do you’ll smile.
Listen to your gut when it talks to you.
No im not selling a course. This is all just for me. Im just keeping my door unlocked for you.
Mentally it’s been a weird week. The island is still glued to my mind and I feel like I’ve been looking on the outside of work while at work. Next week is a doozy already my intention is to loosen my mind in the mountains and then dive into the chaos.
Don’t forget to spend some money with our neighbors in WNC. Take a drive up the hill, buy some fun things and eat some great local food. The businesses up there are dropping like flies. I’ll be giving it my best shot today.
Went down south to Hunting Island state park and spent around 48 hours decompressing the island. Didn’t attempt take over the world while I was down there, this was a non calorie burning time out. I might’ve walked 10 miles in two days just to keep sand in between my toes but that was about all the effort I wanted to maintain. I had a little corner spot for my plot of camping land resting between two quiet retiree neighbors and had my tent perch sitting atop the rest of the campground. Hunting island state park is a cozy campground this time of year, it’s mostly empty nesters enjoying the last of their best lives, some in giant 5th wheels while others romanticize the old days in little Shastas. It’s never bustling you may see some couples walking to the beach or giving their pups some leg stretches. They’re all respectful and veteran campers. The most drama you may see or hear on this little island are the couples jawing over the perfect reverse docking of their homesteads in these little narrow plots. Little beeps of backing up abodes. (3/10 alliteration).
I watch some of these old couples walking hand in hand around the campground and I smile knowing they have figured it all out.
The island had a slight chill to it, you could drive 4 miles back towards Beaufort and it felt 10 degrees warmer. There was also a thick persistent fog that stuck around Monday the whole day. For some reason it felt like it didn’t belong there. Only on the island. You could see it hovering over the island when driving over the bridge to the park.
Weird
Not sure what was the going’s on with one of my neighbors. It would seem she was suppose to depart on Monday and had decided to stay another night without checking in with the park rangers. I saw her Sunday when I arrived, we exchanged brief pleasantries and that was the last I saw her. The light remained on in her camper the whole night. Rangers came by, knocked on her door for several minutes Monday afternoon and left. The light stayed on the whole night again but was off the next morning when I was packing. Either she turned it off or the park cut off her power box. If it was the latter then the park might be ignoring a corpse camping in site #111. I saw no movement and I was paying close attention after the staff knocked and left. The camper didn’t move the whole night. The whole time I felt like I was camping next to a dead body.
She’s old but not that old. I’m morbidly invested in her current state of affairs.
I’m curious as to how many times a coroner gets called to these campgrounds. This is where some go to die. Not on purpose mind you but I’m still considered a young lad in comparison to some of my posse here it’s not unreasonable to logically consider that quite a few old folk die in campgrounds. Hell I’ve come close myself. Joking.. I think. That’s another story for a another day. Still stewing on that one.
WiFi went out during the fog. Im not one that needs to be online while I camp but I do choose certain areas if I need to utilize the nets and this is one of them. It was irritating to go offline but I made the most of it. My truck has WiFi if I have an emergency. Like calling an ambulance about a dead body resting next to me.
Jk
I hope
It’s given me a great idea for a short horror story though
I indulged in a little psilocybin Sunday night while I watched the stars on the beach. I’m writing about that experience currently, it takes about a week for me to soak it all in and up. I’ve done mushrooms about a half dozen times in my life. The first two experiences were heavily induced by alcohol which is a wash and a waste. I use them sparingly I don’t microdose it’s a special occasion for me when I do use them. I’ve consumed them four times the last 3 years.
Once while a buddy observed near the foothills trail camping next to jocassee. I watched alien jelly fish heads watch me from behind trees while I sat under the canopy of giant beings with the faces of a feline, bird and a reptile watching over me as if I was in a petri dish.
I laid in my tent in Linville and watched an angel with a 1000 eyes hover over my trailer while the song Grand Canyon by Puscifer played on my Bluetooth speaker. It moved and blinked to the rhythm of the song. All the while I’m lying there unmoving the whole time while the lyrics “witnessing the majesty” kept highlighting in my mind like a electric road construction sign. I had no idea who Puscifer was. If you were to peruse my musical library you will find I don’t listen to music that reflects this genre.
It ain’t my thing but this song is on my phone now and it will stay. If you’ve ever experienced psilocybin you may know what I’m talking about. Music fuses with your mind and body. At least it does to mine.
The last time (before last Sunday) was in lake Powell AZ. I saw Navajos just out of the corners of my sights, witnessed the heavens above the stars and told my friend one of his knees were glowing (he had a knee operation the year before I was unaware about)
As I’ve said I use these sparingly. This isn’t a gummy I’m playing with or happy hour with a friend. I don’t sleep the whole night. I’m done for the next day and my mind seems to be very sensitive to accepting a lot of weird shit for the next 24 – 36 hours. The last one was a good one. I’m still processing. I’ll get back to you.
When I got up the next morning I thought the mushrooms had brought the fog.
Monday was a lounge day next to me tent. I literally reclined in a camping chair and stared off at the ocean for the day. No net, no distractions and quite a story to reckon with from my journey the night before.
I meditated that night in my tent with only the beacon of my headlamp battery blinking green.
During my meditation I hit a euphoric state of mind so intense I thought angels were singing in my headphones (no psilocybin mind you just my regular ol chad vibes). I got caught up in some raging spiritual bliss enough for my mind to make me think that I was on the path to paradise. To me this meant that I was coming to see Elizabeth (Sanford and son reference) I thought I was dying and that’s why I was hearing the chorus of angels through my headphones. Before the “holy shit I must be traversing to the heavens” I went through a 30 minute experience of euphoria, happiness, gratitude, uncontrollable laughing and unconditional love. Then my brain said “you must be dying” every emotion was hooked up to an amplifier and I was vibrating harmony.
Do I sound like a hippie? I sure hope so.
I unzipped every window in my tent and sat outside on my ladder until my brain finally told me I wasn’t dying in fact I had never been so alive. I went to bed and didn’t even move until 5:20 am. I made a pot of coffee and walked on the beach until sunrise
I watched the world slowly wake up, jumped into my truck and set my navigation to home. I was exhausted but rebooted and reborn. It’s a four hour drive and I took my time.
People ask me why I do this so much. One random occasions I grow in different ways on these trips. It slowly molds me into that new Gangwer I’ve been chasing.
It’s the anniversary of my mother’s passing. Covid took her 3 years ago she was 83 and life was catching up to her at that age. It took about an hour of coffee and starting my day before I realized it. Little surprise that I woke up this morning with her on my mind I even whispered “love ya mom” before I got out of bed. She took a part of my soul with her when she passed. Mama’s boy til I die and then some. I was just looking at some old photo of my parents and was thinking of how much I look like my mom when I smile and my dad when I frown.
Spent my night in the mountains Sunday. First time in three months. Took some time for me to acclimate to my old vibe. As I’ve gotten older I find more things make me anxious. Not sure if it’s just my testosterone slowly jumping ship or the side effects of putting the bottle down.
Or both
It gets real easy to talk my way out of things outside my comfort zone. I’m currently tackling that issue along with not going overboard on my homebody vibes. If I hadn’t gone camping there’s a good chance I would’ve spent the day on my sofa. Breaks aren’t a bad thing but I’m trying to avoid constant lethargic thoughts.
My trip up the mountain was met with very little fanfare. It’s rare to drive up ridge and not see any camps set up or traffic. I saw one old white pickup on the way up a familiar face of sorts. I wouldn’t be suprised if he lived up there and moved site to site every two weeks to keep from gaining attention.
No clue but I see that truck just about every time I’m up there and it’s not a forest service vehicle.
The damage from Helene was apparent and as you climbed in elevation the carnage got much worse. If I wasn’t privy to the cause of the damage I’d almost believe they were about to build townhomes up there. I have a few preferred spots and my favorite was wide open due to the lack of human presence on the mountain. A few of my sites were completely gone. Completely washed away or needing an excavator to clear a path. One of my spots looked like a helicopter pad from the trees washed away. My go to site was still there but the shade of a massive tree had been cut down due to the storm. The tree is also slowly coming away from the ridge which can be dangerous to plot my truck next to. I used to tether my hammock to this particular tree. I used to hug this tree.
I backed into the spot and got out of my truck to find a level plot. It felt foreign to me. The whole mountain did I began to have second thoughts of camping. My anxiousness was getting to me. It felt like I had invited myself over to a friend’s house for a slumber party unannounced and they were sick but too polite to ask me to leave.
Got back in my truck and continued driving.
I drove to the Linville side and found an old familiar spot that looked more inviting to me and made my camp. The mountain was quiet. It was surreal not to have anyone else around. I always do a little drive around to see what kind of neighbors I may have around me. Most are respectful but on occasion someone breaks out the Bluetooth and get annoying late at night. It’s rare but I prefer to know who my neighbors are before I fall asleep 500 yards down the trail from them.
Not a soul.
I usually try to sleep with a little sound machine when I turn in. Nothing loud mind you I need to hear my surroundings but camping in the winter is almost too quiet. No cricket serenades or whippoorwills trying to lure the ladies back to their nests. It’s dead quiet. You can hear the dried leaves dragging their fingernails across the dirt when a breeze moves them around. Often times you hear something grazing around your site maybe a raccoon looking for a dropped potato chip or a deer checking out your rig.
They’re all bears at 4am.
My paranoid ass trying to figure out if I left a snickers in my pocket.
Sleep was poop from the quiet. It was fine though nothing clears your head like a cold tent, warm blanket, no sounds, no internet no lights.
It’s difficult to describe when you’re out and about in nature. You aren’t always caught up in the moment. Don’t get me wrong there are often times I’m reclined next to a campfire staring out into the gorge thinking “it doesn’t get better than this” but there’s just as many instances it’s too cold to sit still or the wind is whipping the fire around and there’s no heat or too much smoke. Sometimes you’re covered mud, you forgot something to light your fire, the elements are trying to blow your tent off of your vehicle. There are no guarantees of a good time to be had. You’re in nature’s hands.
I was out of practice and uncomfortable, forgot all kinds of shit but I was fine it was just an overnight stay for Christ sake. It wasn’t until I was packing up the next morning that my old muscle memory started to kick in again and the mountains started to feel like my second home again. I smiled. It was good to be back home. I hugged my tree friends and headed back.
Put all my gear back on my trailer when I got home. Making an attempt to sell my set up and start all over again with something new. Not sure as to what yet and if it doesn’t sell well then damn I’ll have go keep camping with it.
Worst case I’ll get a few more miles to the gallon on my truck with 300 less pounds riding around with me.
I’m going back up my mountain today. I say mountain in singular but there’s quite a few up there. Hawksbill, Table Rock (the other one), Shortoff, the Chimneys to name a few. Where I camp you can see at least one of them usually I’m staring down Table Rock across the gorge.
Quite the sight.
It’s the zen est of my zens
Last time I camped up here it was September 23rd. Easy to remember because three days later the largest hurricane to ever hit this region would stop by for a visit. The first and only time I’d ever visited Boone. I’m going back up there to support if all goes to plan. I’ve had some weird circumstances that’s kept me from camping the last three months and I’ve accepted them as necessary diversions. I’ve accomplished quite of bit of work projects staying home and I feel pretty damn rested after 6 months of some old familiar work load.
Perspective
Balance is key. I think I was more unbalanced trying to force the free time through a tiny hole in the fence. Not every day off has to be an adventure. Each time I tried to push it the forces of nature had their final say and I’ve stayed home.
I woke up Saturday morning and my instincts gave me the green light. I had good vibes thinking on it but oof shit it’s gonna be cold. My camping area is on it’s own weather system. I take the average temperatures of Nebo and Linville and sort of meet them in the middle when checking for low temps. Tonight will be between 25°- 29°. That’s not terrible. Not ideal either but not terrible. The wind will be the deciding factor. 10mph winds exposed on the face of a ridge will make that feel a tad colder. I don’t use any heating source other than a firepit. No heaters in my tent I’d rather not go to sleep and never wake up.
Tent gets cold. It’s a thick tent with better insulation than your regular ground tent and I’m elevated which helps a little but it also exposes me more to the elements. 30° sleeping bag and a big ass old Costco blanket will be my bedding this evening. I’ll be head to toe sweats for jammies with some smartwool. On cold mornings I’ll remote start my truck so I can go from tent to truck to warm my hands before I make breakfast.
It’s not cozy or comfortable. Sometimes it’s downright shitty.
Character building? Sure maybe or just maybe you come back feeling a little more alive. And sometimes a good story can develop out of it and that’s what I’m here for.
I try to throw my hard earned money around to local businesses for coffee, food, shopping, firewood and last minute camping accessories. It’s how I support. Not any different from you fab folk who bring materials for the homeless up there. I’m just trying to keep everyone employed.
I used to hate to drive through Asheville due to the traffic on I-26. Unfortunately there’s not that much traffic when Ive gone up there the last few times. That’s the biggest economic impact I see aside from the obvious carnage. Man if I won the lottery..
My meals will be MREs I don’t mess with multi-plating meals when it’s this cold. Also my favorite grill I use is butane and it would take me 4 hours to grill a steak up there in higher altitude and freezing cold. Jetboil will heat my dried up food in 90 seconds I don’t even take it out of the bag. Ever washed crockery in 25° weather? Say goodbye to your fingers for the evening.
Tonight I’ll be express camping. All that means is my trailer stays home with most of my camping toys left behind. Essentials only. Most of my gear is unnecessary for trips shorter than two days anyways but I bought them to enjoy them. Change of underwear, jetboil, gallon of water, firewood, matches (forget about a bic working up here), MRE’s, extra blanket, two camping pillows and my headphones 🎧. Oh and maybe a book. If you’ve never camped in the freezing cold there’s one thing you have to do is keep active. Sure a campfire is great for heating one side of your body but you get cold if you sit still. I do a lot of pacing before bed to stay warm around the fire and keep my circulation going. For bed I may boil some water for my Nalgene bottle to have some heat next to me or roll a hot fired up stone in a towel and put it in my sleeping bag. Real easy way of burning a hole in your set up if you’re not careful. I usually rely on multiple layers. If I were to camp in sub zero weather there would be a diesel heater involved. My bones aren’t as warm as they used to be.
If I manage to get some sleep I’ll get a hike in, man it’s been too long. Weather forecast looks like clouds all night so I may not get my sun but it ain’t always rainbows and sunrises so it’s fine.
Most of my thoughts are recorded here from 5am- 7am. This is my creative bubble time when the coffee hasn’t taken me to Mars yet and my mind is still in the present and not moving its thoughts into the work day. I will also use this time for menu mock ups and food thoughts if I’m obligated to. After I eat breakfast my mind tends to slow down into normal mode and my creativity will go out the window. I’ve always been more creative on an empty stomach. There are splendid benefits for fasting I just really enjoy food. I’m a grazer and always have been. Once I start eating for the day I mow the food lawn until around 7.
Also the word splendid make me think of Mr. Burns
My writing subjects often come to me during my nighttime meditations. Sometimes I’ll write notes in my phone pertaining to my random story subjects, read them the next morning and have no clue as to what the fuck I was thinking about. I’m the laziest note taker in all the galaxy. I always shit myself when my teachers asked to see my notes.
“Morn are for start night for mani” is in my phone notes currently sandwiched between ideas for sandwiches and shopping lists to encourage these sandwiches.
I wonder how many sandwiches I’ve made over a lifetime? For myself included.
Thousands.
My favorite sandwich is a club. It always has been. When my old man owned the Cock n Bull I can recall eating club sandwiches at his bar in those cheap little oval plates you see an abundance of at hotel buffets. They never change.
If I go to the Clock or any of those old drive in restaurants it’s the club over all else. During my hangover days it was chili cheeseburgers with onion rings. I’d be so ravished from my hangover I’d drink the slaw juice from the styrofoam box.
I recall my high school English teacher telling me on my last day of school that I would never amount to anything. I’ll be “flipping burgers”
Bitch you ain’t wrong. I did for 4 years and not too long ago.
I wasn’t the best I could be with her that’s for sure. I can say the same goes for her too.
I could conjure all the ridiculous number of items I’ve cooked or presented over the years I’d have to say poached eggs would be the winner. I poached 100 eggs every weekend at SC . That’s 4800 eggs a year for 9 years.
Distant second would be steaks. Can’t tell you how many steaks I grilled at the steakhouse but I fed a small city full of marinated sirloins.
*insert vomit emoji here
I’m going to throw myself into a little fiction soon. Want to take some childhood stories and add a little fab and hyberbole into the mix for short stories. 80’s childhood was reckless for an 8 year old y’all I smoked my first joint at 6 years of age.
Tomorrow I’m going to attempt my first venture back up to my mountain side. Sunday night is going to be a cold one but I don’t care. My camping gear is strewn about in my garage disheveled and uncomfortable. The last time I went camping up there it was before Helene. It’s time for me to go back my nightly meds (meditation) have been taking back up on that ridge so I know it’s time. I need a hike in my soul more than coffee needs a drip.
Also I haven’t been back up since my little 3am alarm went off with something striking my tent hard. I need to go back up and make peace with that memory.
Shortoff mountain is on my mind. Easily my favorite hike in the Gorge I rarely pass more than 4 peeps when I’m up there. Switchbacks take you up the gorge’s ridges and you can see for miles.
Sit on a rock overhang and breath in the real life. It’s only a 7 mile in and out but it joins the MTS (mountains to sea trail) so you can hike for weeks if you want. Almost guarantee a bear sighting in spring after you wander past 6 miles there’s quite a few up there. I don’t care how experienced you are as a hiker you’re never prepared when a bear crosses your path. Big ones, little ones doesn’t matter. You sure as hell don’t want to run across a cub. I’ve managed to walk right under one dangling from a tree. Didn’t see it’s mom. Didn’t stick around and wait for her either. I’ve never had one bother me or even give me a second glance and I’m ok with that. I think I’ve come across six so far.
Table rock 1
Pinnacle 1
Parkway 1 with two cubs (we were driving)
Crested butte had one hang around my site for about an hour
Linville 2? One came into my camp and for some reason I can’t recall the other but I know I’ve had two encounters.
Oh and a big fat one up on Turkey gap pen brevard. I was unaware I had arrived into a bear sanctuary until I had already arrived. I managed to hike right past the posted sign.
I’ve never seen a grizzly or a mountain lion out west. I’m ok with that.
I’ll put some money on a big cat around Mt Mitchell area. Might’ve been the Deep Trail Gap for whatever reason my instinct kept telling me to go back. Something was watching for me for a bit. I hiked with my 9mm nearby. Not sure why it got to me but I won’t hike that alone again.
But yeah man I gotta chase the sun tomorrow. All arrows are lighting that path right now so I must go even if it’s just a long drive for a hike and I can spend some cash with the locals up there. Went for a walk this morning to acclimate. 21° I turned around after 4 minutes.
I have these folks that come into my deli I call guardian angels. They aren’t coming in and blocking bullets for me or pushing me out of the way of an oncoming tour bus. They don’t announce themselves or have halos hanging over their heads. I’d probably tell them to get the hell out if they did because I’m expecting someone with a cellphone recording the damn thing to play a prank on me.
These folk come in when I’m having a rough mental day. The deli gives me a lot sometimes not on purpose but somedays it pokes me in the rib cage. On slow days I’ll have some random person walk in at 4pm when I’m standing behind the counter wondering if I should close early and just start grabbing one of each in my deli market. They’ll grab groceries, sweets, a few sammies and buy the only two boxes I made that day for grab and go’s. The market items don’t sell often. They no longer cost me anything to keep on the shelves since I paid for them long ago and I’m hard headed. I’ll check them out and they’ll be on their way. I have unspoken expectations on sales everyday. On notoriously slow days my expectations are quite low but still easily achievable but some days we don’t hit it and I let it affect me. Then some random person who you wouldn’t expect to do much other than buy a sammy walks in and spends $165. I get ready to leave my deli. Hit my sales button and here we are. My quota has been hit. Obviously this doesn’t happen every day I don’t carry a rabbits foot up my tuckus but I grateful for it.
Sometimes it’s not a purchase but a person just saying the right thing. I deal with a lot of “why do I keep doing this?” on bad days. Yesterday a lady ordered a Reuben and left. She turned right back around and ran into the deli with her car running to let us know that she had never had a Reuben before and it was the best sandwich she ever had. I was in a particular state of mind at that time and it loosened my shoulders. It was needed
Thank you
I see these as guardian angels. I RECOGNIZE these as such because that’s what they are to me. As I’ve mentioned it’s not an everyday occurrence and I have some terrible days with no assistance because that’s fucking life. Some subjects I don’t post that much on social media because believe it or not there are some things I hold close to me that is meant only for me and maybe two other people in my life.
My verbiage and overall attitude projects that I lack faith at times. I have my beliefs that I hold very dear to me. I have found a comfortable niche in my faith and beliefs since I was a teen that I’ve maintained over the last 40 years. It has evolved over time from experiences and consistent and without certain rhetorics. It’s intimate to me. It’s mainstream representation I do not follow. This is absolutely no knock on anyone else’s faith. I honor anyone’s beliefs as if they were mine.
It’s not my call yall. My faith is in my soul not in a 15,000 sq ft building. Thats not meant as a knock. Religion representation has become hard to swallow due to mainstream media outlets. It’s a me thing not you.
I go about my rituals at night and some nights, not all because I have other things twirling in my mind, I’ll have a conversation with anyone that might be listening and ask for some guidance because man some days I can’t handle shit. I don’t get mad if I feel like no one is listening because regardless I’m airing it out mentally and that brings awareness to my situation and it allows me to let off steam if I’m not airing it out on fb.
I believe in manifestation. The more I think on it the more I feel it’s existence. It’s not magic it’s honing in on something and drawing yourself towards it. It’s mental sonar you ping it and go towards it. It might be on the other side of the poles but if you know it’s there and you want it bad enough you’ll find it. Manifesting is just a word it’s up to you to make it an action. Sometimes it will take you out of your comfort zones. It may feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff over water and it’s telling you to jump. That sonar ping may be at the bottom of the ocean or lake and the only way to get to it is to jump in and sink for a bit.
Just gotta have faith faith faith uh 🎶
I manifested a little last night. For no reason whatsoever I just wasn’t having a good day. Days like that there are no jokes or hugs that work for me I just get my dumps deepened and I have to get through my day. Sometimes I sit by myself and close my eyes for a bit. And sometimes that helps as long as no one is around.
It’s my mini meditation station.
I had some conversations with myself when I got into bed last night. Normally I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat but it took me about 45 minutes to find my snooze groove. I let my mind wander because it was restless so I let it out to play. It took me to some new places in my mind and produced some new horizons for me to seek out should I choose to.
Pings
I picked up a little something and went down that path and chased a ping that made sense in my head but man would it take me out of my comfort zone and I fucking love my comfort zones.
I even cried a little.
Surreal but not sad. Part of my bedtime process is lying in bed to release my day for good. Like ripping off a paper towel sheet, wiping off the counter and tossing the paper in the trash. I put on my headphones and an eye mask and I go wherever my mind takes me. There are no distractions, complete darkness and some music I hand picked for every evening. My emotions react differently to every song. I’ve trained them to do this it’s a part of my meditation. I’ve done this enough now to where my mind can travel to a memory when a certain song comes on. Even if I’m driving. I can smell my memories, almost feel the presence of passed loved ones. This isn’t an overnight thing I’ve been practicing this for over a year.
I do this mind rinse every night. I have to release things. I do this to give my family the best Chad that’s out there because that’s what my life is all about now.
Sometimes I pick up pings and I did last night. When I get pings my mind goes into hyper space and it hones in on that ping like Google earth. My fingers pinch and pinch just enough until where my mind says “I see it!” and then immediately zooms out.
Me-“Hey Mani. I love this but dont think I can do this”
Mani- “just jump Chad”
Mani isn’t much for words but then same.
Every ping I’ve chased since I’ve started having them have made an impression on my life. They don’t have to be life changing to make an impression. Your mind pings on all sorts of shit it takes time and patience and a whole lotta instinct to pick out the real ones.
I sound like a fucking hippie. No offense.
I’ve got my mind on it Mani. I gotta think about this one for a bit but for now I gotta go make some charcuterie love.
Average lifespan for people like me (white American male is 74.8 years. I’m 53.3333333 at the moment. Law of averages means if I go bout my business I have 21 years to finish up everything before someone else is talking me up behind a podium with some sort of bloated eulogy and Facebook photos cropped and downloaded and on a digital stick with a timely shuffle to sift through my life moments while some folk sit in a bleached congregation of brick and mortar while mourning and or celebrating my memory.
I’m pleased that I won’t live to see it.
No one lives forever. I used to be obsessed with immortality. “How do/can I skip the mortal part?”
As a kid you want to live forever. That vibe stays with you until it doesn’t.
I love living life. With every shitty memory I have 100 more awesome memories to trump it. Always been my philosophy that if you have a shitty day today make sure it doesn’t repeat itself on the next one. Doesn’t always work out that way sometimes the days can string together some consecutive doozies.
It’s life. Life’s hard most of the time.
If it’s easy for you chances are you got a cart someone else is pulling for you.
At my age you start to slow things down because things move faster than they used to. Or the other perspective is you don’t move as fast as you used to. Technology starts to pass you by, traffic become more than congestion it becomes a hindrance. There aren’t that many first rodeos anymore in fact you’re filled to the tits with been there done thats. I find myself checking off things in my head that I no longer wish to persue or deal with.
Changing my algorithms as I call it.
I’ve visited places that I’ll never see again and talked with friends that I’ll never talk to again. No im not going anywhere anytime soon if I have my say so in the matter it’s just you reach a stage in life where you slowly begin to eliminate things as opposed to carry them along anymore.
You begin to lighten your life satchel. A lot of your necessities become unnecessary. It’s not any different than outgrowing your toys. You lose interest in things that have no real value in life. Ever see an old toy for sale and get excited “I used to play with this all the time!” You must’ve lost it you would’ve never parted with this. On a whim you purchase it. You take it home and stare at it. Maybe if it’s a toy plane you even walk around with it soaring in your hands making that old jet noise or “whooooosh” as you dip it down and raise it back in the air like you just found Jesus. You look down at the toy and smile, you and put it back in the box. With that smile you realized you aren’t that kid anymore. You’ve outgrown that toy. What a time you used to have back in the day with it. You never lost it you only lost the interest in it. Your parents discarded it for you. They already knew what you didn’t know.
I do this with quite a few things now including experiences and colleagues. It’s ok to think “I no longer need this person in my life”
It’s fine to part ways without drama. There can be peace with separation. Act accordingly.
This has absolutely nothing to do with anyone in my circle. I have the healthiest circle in all of my life and it will always be secured.
You begin to shed things is all. The older you get the less you can carry, the less you wish to carry.
Sometimes I look at my life as a pie chart. Not a complex one more of a balance of work and life. Working is a fundamental part of your life.
For the majority of us that is. Some of us don’t have to work as hard as others. That used to bother me. Still does on some platforms but usually only pertains to individuals working along side of me. Part of my lightening my satchel was eliminating most of my employees. My inner circle of employees become friends that I love but let’s be honest the other 75% of my staff were degenerates who made my day harder not easier. It’s the truth guys. The rising cost of goods takes the pride and heart out of your staff.
When I try to explain my burnout at my old company it’s misrepresented. I wasn’t burned out just on the service industry. I was burned out from working.
Period
I got into the work thing at 15. 30 hours a week while in school. I wanted to quit school and just work. Get out of school and go to work at 5pm. Get off at 9 or 10 and go home. Weekends I worked all day Saturday or Sunday be it first or second shift. Didn’t matter where. When I moved out of my parent’s house before my 18th birthday I put my head down and went to work.
And here we are.
From 15- 19 I worked about a dozen jobs. Summer types, odd ones and seasonal ones but I always had one. My parents struggled a tad financially so if I wanted something I worked for it and bought it and let me tell you I never got much. I’m talking about clothes and gas money not cars and hobbies. Or I’d buy the real brands and not the knock offs I’d have to wear to school. It was status for me y’all. I didn’t have much going for me as a teen. 2.0 gpa and my senior yearbook accomplishments filled up about two sentences on back page 73, paragraph 4, third sentence right above the Moore’s store ad.
Just let me live a little ffs.
I’ll never make fun of someone for what what little they have or they brand they represent. I used to get slapped in the back of that head walking down the school hallway for wearing off brand jackets. I was never a Members only but I wanted to be. When I was finally released from the bureaus of our state education duties I went straight to work. Sure I signed up for Tech too. Three times. Gave em around $2k of my hard earned money to drop out every first semester. School just never worked for me. Paying for something I absolutely hated was a hard pill to swallow. Looking back I’ve never regretted dropping out. I didn’t know what I wanted to do.
I’m 53 and still not sure. I sorta stopped searching to be honest.
I’ve mentioned before about why you don’t really see my daughter working in my deli. She does on occasion but it comes in small bursts. She just turned 15. She’s legally able to work. So was I at her age and I did. And I’m still trying to catch up what I’ve missed out on. Financially we are better off than my parents at this time but a broken leg can change all of that in one day. American healthcare raises it’s ugly head. My daughter will work in due time. I’m not raising her to join the working class ranks at 15. I’m not raising her to be me. What I will do is raise her to appreciate what she has and to find her zest in living and not just working.
I have literal decades of my life where the only thing I can reflect on is work. I had a little zest in between but there’s no balance. I’m the kid sitting on the seesaw alone. My ass is work, the empty seat hovering in the sky across from me is play.
If my life were a pie chart..
That’s probably being generous..
Overtime didn’t exist in my career. That’s acknowledging you worked more than the deeded 40 hour work week. It was the standard for me. If it wasn’t two jobs it was salary. Salary means your company owns you. I hit my first salary position at 26 and worked 50 plus hours for the next 23 years. 60,000 plus hours of my life I’ll never get back.
The reflection pool gets deeper as you get older. The further the depth the colder it gets.
The majority of us work because it’s like breathing. It’s on auto until it’s not. The same feeling of suffocation hits when you’re not able to one or the other.
I’ve been unemployed for a total of 4 months in my working career. Three of those when I had a DUI in ‘93. Took me a solid 8 years to get back to normal after that between money gouged from my checks for insurance and my dumbass having an affinity for credit cards in my early 20s.
The pressure to maintain is overwhelming at times and here we are expected to also set aside funds to finally allow us to stop working when we are too old and tired to actually perform in labor intensive jobs. 25% of the US population has up to $100k in their bank account. 20 years ago that may keep you around for a bit. You’ll run out of that in 5 years just from food and utilities.
Sometimes I want to take my life savings to Cherokee and put it all on red. If I win good for me if I lose it’s the feeling “ok I’ll go work my ass off and get it back until I can’t. That either reads as I can make a lot of money in a short time or my life savings is so meaningless that it doesn’t take much to reach that amount again. Choose either one.
This is a long ramble and I’m a rambler to the core. The more I write the deeper I can dig into myself and that’s a good thing y’all. Sometimes you have to chip away to get the bird shit off the statues. It’s therapeutic but at the same time it’s a restlessness that agitates me at times. Like a long line to the register to get your food when you skipped breakfast.
It’s hard to say this without it being a knock on my business. I love my deli. I get filled with pride when I’m inside doing my thing. When people come in complimenting, engaging and smiling that’s what I’m there for. Every single thing that comes out of that kitchen represents me and my brand. I don’t give a fuck if it’s two crackers in a build your own box. I inspect those crackers, I’m making sure I’m stuffing three oz of olives in a 2 oz cup. I’m inspecting my employee’s set up tasting everything he makes.
The system has made me this way. It’s a good trait but it’s exhausting.
I love the deli but at the same time I hate it. I’ve created my own leash and collar.
This isn’t a declaration of surprise or boggling. I knew this process before it started because well this isn’t my first rodeo. I did it to survive and remain relevant. If you aren’t relevant in this occupation you’ll get one write up in your local online periodical that announces that you’re now a statistic. Every one will say
“We loved that place!”
“I’m shocked it closed it was so good!”
And then move on to a new place faster than a teenage romance.
My passion is for creativity. It holds my attention. If you walk into that deli it changes every week. Why? Because that’s how I keep my sanity. If I feel something getting stagnant I become the same.
I’d throw my body against the wall for my old company and it took a beating. When I opened the deli I made a checklist of behavioral patterns I’m careful not to step into again. About once a week I find myself doing the some of the same song and dances I used to do with my old company.
It’s purely psychological I’m aware but work exhausts me now. The thought of going into work gives me anxiety. I used to think I pulled a vocation muscle but I’m beginning to think I broke it. It’s not physical health I could go on a 5 mile run tomorrow if I had to but work on the other hand I’m tired after about 2 hours.
Depleted
It’s completely mental and I’m dealing with it but it makes it a tad difficult when I’m trying to run a business. I’m good at what I do. I’m basing this on my experience and obviously the consumer’s reactions. I’m well experienced and prideful. I don’t troll reviews to be difficult I take them personal.
I used to love what I do and I don’t hate my career it’s just like a long relationship that’s lost it’s luster. There’s no romance, surprise gifts or hand holding. It’s sit across from the dinner table and eat your meal without saying a word. I knew I was in this headspace before I opened the deli.
Shake it off Gangwer it’ll get better.
That pie chart is not accurate obviously it’s a generated exaggeration.
But
At the age of 50 I had to acknowledge that my 30 plus years of hustling and bustling was a bust.
I do acknowledge that I have gained quite a bit of understanding of food and business. I can sit at a round table with big restaurant execs and fit right in if I took a moment to clean myself up. I’m probably more qualified than most of them to be honest I’ve always remained hands on it’s the only way I know how to work.
I envy those professional athletes that realize their passion for the game has left and they retire. I forgot to save my signing bonuses so that won’t be me.
This blog has turned into a diatribe of self pity and maybe that’s where I was going? Maybe not I think I was trying to manifest some sort of savior moment with my writing and conjur up the answer to the universe but I’ve seemed to have missed.
Let’s lighten up this tone a tad.
When I walk into my deli I let out a big sigh and smile. I walk around and do my checklist routine. I walk past my coolers I purchased, my ovens, my food and creations and I exude pride. It’s a positive extension of me. Its my new baby.
I created Graze to survive. Every month there’s a new mother fucker doing charcuterie out of their homes or garages I have to contend with. My sales were not dipping they were maintaining. For 8 months they maintained and didn’t rise. Previously they were increasing.
I bring up Southern a lot because she was the belle of the group. Other than occasional miss management from some extremely sub par GMs we kept landing she kept the company sailing. Sometimes she paid everyone else’s bills. As a business man I’ll always say let the sinking ships sink. We might’ve exposed her by using her to keep the others afloat. The last year I was at SC it was hard. Weekends dropped in sales (except for brunch) and weekdays became a ghost town. $5k Thursdays were $2k. I was spent trying to revive her every damn season. It gave me some ptsd. If graze has a few consecutive slow days I react in kind. I’m sitting on breakfast at the moment to try to not be the knee jerk reaction jackass I’ve become. When it’s slow I start moving furniture. It takes my mind off my anxiety. Just thinking about it exhausts me.
I’m surrounded by compliments with my work. And it gives me energy to go about my business. By compliments I mean the total strangers that walk into my place every week thanking me for opening the deli. That’s all I want these days. Im not chasing that empire anymore my feet are too tired. All I ask for nowadays is to not have that dread of watching my business bank account dip below the holy shit level. It’s not there yall and it’s not the subject of this blog. I could do $10k in two days and then $200 the next and my mind goes into auto fail.
“Is this the start of the decline?”
“Did I fuck up opening this place?”
Have you ever experienced this?
It starts with a monthly meeting of financials. You’re pouring over your P&Ls “we had a soft month and finished 8% under last years sales”
Everyone throws in their two cents as to why
“Election year, it always screws us everyone is holding onto their wallets”
“New restaurant opened down the road”
“Construction across the street is causing detours”
You all throw out your excuses hoping it’s not because your hometown found a new girlfriend and has moved on because this town is the most fucking fickle market around. Oh yeah I’m a bit tarnished yall.
After a few consecutive slow months you begin to lose confidence in how you run your business. You think about that one dish that came out cold on Friday and your mind is asking you “does that happen frequently? Are customers not coming back because food is coming out cold?” So you spend the next three weekends riding shotgun with expo and touching plates to make sure that’s not the issue. Kitchen goes down in flames on a busy brunch shift. “How many folk won’t return after today? We hit 47 minutes on tickets. Is the menu slowing the kitchen down?” So you change the menu out of desperation after a few consecutive shit storms. Now you’ve pissed off some regulars who only came to eat brunch for that specific dish you took off the menu. And you spent $600 on another menu reprint.
I did this for three underperforming restaurants. I also shuffled this shit around for a steakhouse that lost its footing too. I put that restaurant on my shoulders like it was mine for over a decade. I left there because it never was.
If this blog is bringing you down it’s not my intention at all. This is therapy for me when I doubt myself. It’s a mind vomit and oil change for my brain. To get it out and flush the negative shit down the pipes. When I write things down I begin to reckon with it. I learned how to do this when I made a checklist of the things that were slowly killing me and after I wrote them out I began to take them on one by one. This is no different the only change is I’m checking off things that cause my mind to focus on negative points so I can address them. I remember all that I write for some odd reason. Once I document it I start to reckon with it.
What are you going to do with this Gangwer?
No clue..
But
I’m manifesting positivity. Yeah no this blog is not the epitome of positivity but it begins a path for me mentally.
Acknowledgement is the phase one. Manifesting is phase two. Instinct, awareness and patience shall follow (fingers crossed)
Listen
I love the deli. I love the freedom of creativity. I love my customers
I also love my life and it’s taken me a long ass time to reach that without the aid or dependence of my career. Sometimes it tries to stick its toe into my happiness and take it away. That’s what I’m trying to balance without going into self destructive territory. I’m fighting my behavioral patterns. Writing helps regardless of who reads it.
I’m manifesting change in my environment and vibes.
It’s amazing watching your children grow into young adults. It truly is like watching a flower bloom in slow motion although when you look back it moves at the speed of light. My daughter spent the afternoon downtown with her new “friend” for the first time. She asked my permission and in my head I probably said no 100 times but it wasn’t the answer I responded with. I asked her a few not so embarrassing questions and gave her my thumbs up and her mom taxied her downtown. I’m doing my best as a dad to support her happiness but sometimes I have to bite down on some leather to keep my knee jerk responses and reactions. She’s one of the two things I care about the most. We raised her right. I trust her judgement calls it’s just a doozy for me to reckon with.
My energy levels are slowly coming back. It took about a week ish, same as the last three years of work. I made a list of changes the last two months I need to deal with at the deli and it’s time to honor them. It’ll be quite the task.
October 21st was the last time I was “outdoors” and on a scale of 1-10 camping experiences I would’ve given that one a -6. Before that it was pre Helene. Weather and circumstances had created the perfect storm of pooping on my camping trips. It’s mildly frustrating fall is my camping season and I managed to miss it all.
I’m not ravaged by it I’m just frustrated.
That’s all
January is definitely a transitional month for me now that I’ve had time and experience to recognize it.
And appreciate it
It gives me time to think on the upcoming things.
All the things. I have Sedona on my mind with a side of Utah. Last long adventure I did was glacier and the drive wore me down. Honestly though if I go anywhere it’ll probably be Colorado again. I’m in dire need of an adventure that doesn’t involve work.
Great Lakes are on my mind too. Michigan is one of maybe 4 states I haven’t been to? North Dakota, Wisconsin and Alaska would be the others. Washington barely, my front bumper touched into the southern region after I dipped my bike tire in the pacific outside a little town in Oregon in ‘99.
I’ve been wrestling with my camping set up along with my fickleness. I obsess over things when I get excited about them and I have to stew on my decisions for a bit to keep me from acting on my impulses. It also distracts me from what I already have on my plate. The deli suffered a tad while I tried to camp every week. I could do it when I was mobile but now I have more responsibilities that may cause me to linger around the deli on days off. It’s fine as long as I maintain balance. I’m off kilter at the moment so it’s been difficult.
Since my slight obsession with overlanding circa 2019, my camping has evolved over time. I use the term overlander loosely. I’m not an avid off road guy I enjoy the benefits of BLM land and getting the fuck away from everyone. I’ve gone from camping out of the back of my truck to a small bus and then my trailer. I love the trailer but my truck gets about 10 miles to the gallon towing it. That adds an extra $500 to any cross country trip.
Pros – I can park the trailer, unhitch and go about my business wherever I go and not worry about breaking down camp.
Cons- if I choose to relocate it’s about a 45 minute set up and breakdown.
When I do my trips I plan two ways. I set my sights on a hub. A small town or camping area and set up my shelter for about 4-5 days and my adventures and sight seeing stay within that hub. My whole focus is on that area and I explore no further than an hour or two from my zone. I did this in Sedona and Maine and it worked out quite well.
The other option is nomadic, I keep my tent on my truck, pack lighter and hit multiple places overnight. I’ve done this in Colorado a few times and also enjoy it. I’m much more restless in Colorado. I know where the things are and I must see them all. I’ve been to CO around a dozen times and I’ve done about 2% of the things.
Also, I love the freedom of living off a tailgate. It feels like my roots were meant to be there. The summers I spent solo in that little camper in my parents back yard left a forever impression on me.
I don’t hate it
Looking at a ridiculously tall camper top and selling all the rest. I’m taking my time with this decision. It takes me a moment to discern between instinct and impulse. I can tell work has slowed down because I’m starting to dream again.
Dreams are your introduction to manifestations.
For some reason I stopped chasing them for years and I’m trying to catch up now.
Highly recommend this. All manifestation is for me is if you believe in it hard enough you’ll find a way to make it happen.
Im just trying to put my obsessions into good use.
This is my first consecutive two days off in a bit. I’m thankful for the rain because it will hamper my activities for the day and I think it’s needed. Spent some needed time with the fam and we went to the RV show yesterday. I’m not an RV person but I like touring the camper vans and some of the buses are fun to sit in the “cockpit” like a child touring an airplane. To each their own I wouldn’t turn one down that’s for sure.
Made an attempt to break up with a restaurant this past week. Have you ever dealt with this scenario? It’s become part of your routine, the food is good when it’s right but it’s only right 50% of the time. The other 50% the food isn’t entirely in your bag when you bring it home. It’s a solid day when the food is on point and you get everything you ordered and paid for. It’s just not consistent. I’m all about supporting local but the owners have to give me the vibe that they give a shit and well let’s face it, they don’t.
So in a calm manner I relayed to my wife that I know longer wished to support this establishment. She took it in stride but since this isn’t my first time making this announcement I don’t think she’s taking it seriously.
Not sure if I would too but at that moment it was needed to get that off my chest. I’m more than willing to kick that particular restaurant to the curb. Right now it’s a 50/50 vote and for some reason I feel like I losing that vote.
*puts foot down
*no one hears it
I don’t go out to eat anymore. Or I should say I don’t go into establishments and dine. On occasion I’m expected too. Celebrations, gatherings or just putting on pants to be presentable enough to eat inside. I used to love to go out and eat. That’s how I always received my inspiration for food ideas and atmosphere. I loved the service chatter and professionalism when it mattered. The aromas and textures.
Now
I hear glasses clinking in dish racks, obnoxious loud musak, people talking over people, kids screaming, kitchen utensils clanking, hood rattling. I no longer smell good food. It’s burnt grease and fabuloso. You’re killing your customer’s taste buds with that scented shit all over your walls, floors and tables. The food and service isn’t the same. Owners are trying to save a buck and have cut back on solid ingredients and reputable brands. I get it yall I was right there with you which is why I’m no longer there with you. Service? Don’t get me started. Our food was brought out with sharp auctioning “STEAK?” “FRIES?” “CHICKEN?”. Can’t say anything to that manager it was her that was the auctioneer. Not that I would anyway.
I’m aware all of this makes me a dinosaur and that’s exactly what I am.
But
I’m a Dino with standards
My day yesterday was highlighted by finding my favorite pair of shorts at a Nike outlet. If you’ve seen me in public the last four years I’m most likely wearing running shorts. Its ironic because I don’t really run anymore but I’ve gotten quite attached to this style of shorts. I work in them, travel in them and lounge in them. 5in inseam, black 2 in 1 nike strides.
I bought 3 pair. My others were almost gray from usage and the base layers had holes in them. I just bought another pair online. Nike always discounts what it’s about to stop making so I’m on it. I’d have a 100 of these if I could.
I’ve become very quirky about the clothes I wear. Y’all don’t understand. I used to go out and by a party “outfit” every week. Always a new shirt and I’d buy a new pair of designer jeans every month. At one point I had 42 pairs of jeans.
I now have 5. I only wear one.
Hoodies I’d wear 365. I’ll wear my hoodie until June sometimes. I’ll wear it in my truck and take it off when I get out to pump gas. I don’t know where to allow my hands to rest without hoodie pockets.
My long break from camping has encouraged me to reflect on how I approach it now. I got into truck bed camping around 5 years ago. It was just me and my truck bed with a futon mattress. I had a sleeping bag, pillows and a string of $9 battery operated lights. You didn’t even know I was camping until I popped out of the tailgate.
Simplicity
It had its pros and cons. Set up wasn’t much just getting my food separated from my sleeping quarters and having my book of the month within reaching distance. The camper wasn’t insulated so cold was real cold but it wasn’t terrible in the mountains during summers. It was a tad cramped for long trips and the main reason I upgraded was rainy days weren’t much fun sitting in the back of the truck for half the day.
I wouldn’t mind going back to some of that but with more headroom. I’ve got my eye on something but there’s a lot of moving parts to make it happen or I just sell my trailer and keep my tent nearby in case I need it. I know it’s first world problems. I just want quicker set up, less hassle but also at 53 I don’t like laying down to change my clothes or hitting my head on aluminum every time I want to change positions while sleeping
My daughter turned 15 yesterday. I’m still speechless
I have one more busy day of charcuterie tomorrow before I can really relax. I’m pushing myself for some time off. Your boy is spent. With holidays comes socializing and it exhausts me. It truly does. If all of our entertaining keeps us going to Greer several times in one week I’m just going to move there next time. I enjoy the company. I don’t enjoy the 27 traffic lights to get there.
I’m journaling on my phone even though I now have a shiny new laptop to do this. I was halfway through with this before I realized it. I need to get into the habit of using the computer my phone is about to take a cut in my affection for it. It’s time
I work today on my day off. Hopefully this will be the last time for a bit it’s already caught up to me. My ass is wishing I could drive to Sedona in half a day.
Deli update is taking a break this time. I’m trying to break a routine of writing about the deli because it’s safe and easy and I’m becoming predictable with my words. Practice practice.
That’s about all I got this time around folks. Cheers
I’ve never been a new year new me person. In fact I’ve probably thrown around a few back-handed comments at some of you that base your lifestyle changes on the new upcoming year every year only to have it fall through the cracks before President’s Day.
Resolutionaries as I’d call them
2021 on January 1st, I had made a overnight decision to put the bottle down. The idea hadn’t occurred overnight it had been weighing on my mind for about 4 months. I woke up that morning and thought this would be the ideal date for me to come back to mostly due to it’s symbolism of fresh new number/start/calendar year.
So yeah, I get it. It could be called a resolution. I have never named it a resolution I’ll stick with my word “reckoning” it just fits what my mindset needed. It allows me to take it more seriously.
It was around 4 months in the making but it was the last 6 weeks that pushed me to my own little, personal salvation. I’m always good with the talk. It’s the walk that takes a moment to follow through. I’m an analyzer. Analytics is my strength if it’s my focal point and well, I am by nature my own biggest focal point seeing is I’ve only got one accurate POV to cling to. I’m with this guy 24-7 and I’ve started paying attention to everything he does and asking him (me) why? It’s a simple right of passage I go through now. Accountability as to why I do some of the things I do and the path that brought me here and there. Not a “what makes me tic?” I know how I tic. More of a “what got you here and where are we going next?”
I’m having a difficult time describing this. Also I received a new laptop from Santa to encourage my writing so I don’t journal from my phone and it’s taking me a minute to find my rhythm. I haven’t used a laptop in years. I went a little luddite after Covid and I’m ok with it. In fact soon I’ll be going even more unattached to some technological themes.
If it all falls into place.
I do miss auto correct instead of going back and fixing all the red squiggles that crop up while I peck at my keyboard like a hen.
Anyway
I have been going through this wild and ridiculous transition every year at this time for the last three years. I label the time frame as 6 weeks although it fluncuates a week or two here and there. My business ramps up for the stretch and it becomes a slow moving avalanche that as long as I stay healthy and focused I remain a safe distance from that avalanche then all is well on the coochie front. Sometimes that avalanche gets close enough to feel the snow on your shoulder. That wall of ice touching my cheek. My job is 90% timing. I don’t have a set schedule for the day. I may look at my calendar for the night before and think I can go in at 7am and within half an hour of more orders rolling in it becomes 4am. I’ve said it multiple times this is my harvest season. You can make as many boxes as you want or can. It’s entirely up to you. Every year I try to beat the year before and I do. And it takes a piece of me away for good.
This year it started slowly rolling in mid October and never stopped so my marathon extended a few miles. I usually don’t start my cadence until the second week of November. By November I could feel the ice breathing down my neck, my back.. It’s not with a sense of dread mind you I get myself jacked for it. It’s my time to shine. A point of pride of what I can accomplish.
It’s just a back breaker. It takes me about a week to recover. I’m on day two currently.
We did a fuck ton of charcuterie. I havent counted and probably won’t. It was more than before and then some.
What happens to me during this time frame is I go into work hibernation. My hobbies and resets also go into this status. I focus on charcuterie and nothing else. Christmas shopping is done online in one day after collecting ideas in September. I guess the positive side is it doesn’t allow me to procrastinate anymore. I don’t really see my family until Christmas Eve. I’m around them everyday. I pass them as I walk in the door after my shift, shower, eat and we will catch up in the living room for half an hour and then I go to bed. Jess is in the deli with me four days a week but it’s a blur and it’s all business when we work.
The first week is all about “HERE WE GO!” and by late December the word charcuterie makes me want to drive my car off a bridge.
Currently where I am right now. I have two boxes scheduled today and it will feel like someone is peeling my skin off. Not to worry yall story writing involves hyperbole. I’m grateful for the work I’m just tired and temporarily burned out.
It’ll pass it always does until it doesn’t.
What happens during this time is I sort of go into a meditative state and routine. My daily habits and rituals get pushed aside which takes me out of my comfort zone. I don’t get my daily walks or hikes, workouts, camping or my home toiling that keeps my mind going. It’s all work, no play, no habits.
It’s not a healthy lifestyle. It almost feels like a short annual prison term. 6 weeks (10 this year) of hard labor. One difference is I don’t have a bullet proof window or bars separating me from society. Just a yellow oak counter. I have a love/hate with it at the moment.
Love the cash.
Hate the crash.
But
BUT
Every year, each time, each post holiday I come out a different person on the other side.
Imagine an annual cycle of you getting your ass kicked on the regular, body beat to shit, high anxiety, under nourished, sleep deprived and unrelenting stress. There is no hyperbole in this statement this time. This is real. It’s wash, rinse and spin cycle without being taken out to dry.
But when I finally come out to dry it’s like breaking out of a mental cocoon. I’m no fucking butterfly by any means but it does change me every year. Sometimes and often times it’s my perspective on things. Sometimes it’s physical but always mental.
Charcuterie boot camp
Hell week volume 6 to 8
I come real close to either giving in or quitting but I don’t. Boy do I want to.
When I get into this time of year I don’t see food I see shapes. I see triangles, circles, angles, arcs, radius.
Food geometry.
High volume jigsaws
I’m building boxes and boards but my mind is elsewhere. Half the time if you’re talking to me I’m responding in trancey sentence fragments. I’m a thousand miles away. Some days I’m looking backwards. I’m sitting on my tailgate somewhere to help me take my mind off my back. I’m sipping coffee in my camping chair overlooking the gorge. I’m wrapped up in a blanket next to a campfire.
Other times I’m in my head thinking about tomorrow and that’s when I dream and manifest.
Assembly doesn’t require much thought once muscle memory kicks in. This is why I get selective on custom orders. Boxes take no thought anymore. Volume takes over.
This is also when I get in my head. When I’m tired and vulnerable. My interior dialogue gets raw. There’s no distractions when you’re tired. I mean real fucking tired. I’m not talking about sitting down on your sofa after work and channel surfing because you’re too tired to focus on 30 minutes of subject matter. I’m hyper focused in my own thoughts. This is probably why when my deli phone rings I flinch like someone swung at me. It breaks me out of my little trance.
I become analytical. I’m in a zone of self evaluation. I breakdown the filing cabinets in my mind, open the tabs and lay out all my folders in front of me.
Manifesting
Sometimes I’m fantasizing about a new camping adventure to take my mind off of the tasks at hand. Other times I’m planning my ideas like seeds for post holidays. Charcuterie has been great! The deli side took a dive while I dealt with it. Time to balance again.
Often times though I’m tearing myself down piece by piece. In my head I’m addressing shortcomings, mental conflict or bad habits I’ve accumulated over time. This is when food becomes shapes to me. I’m no longer focused on the actual task. Muscle memory takes over and I’m somewhere else in my mind. I seem to always be somewhere else when I work nowadays. If I’m interrupted during my cadence I’ll stop and just stare at my boxes at hand for a minute or two. It takes my brain a moment to wind back up to where I was before. It’s almost like stoic meditation. I go there to cancel out the exhaustion and old body aches and pains.
It’s hard to describe without sounding a little dramatic and yeah I know better than anyone else I have the tendency to lean that way it’s just how I’m wired
But
I get put through the fucking tree chipper and when I come out the other side I feel like a completely different person.
Every year (for the last three) I experience a shift in my thinking. Almost like a post grad course I just completed. There’s no specific subject matter involved, no light bulb or interjection of EUREKA! By Jove I think I’ve got it!
I come out of that exhausted work cocoon on December 24th and slowly over the progression of a few weeks I begin to notice different thought patterns from before, perspectives, habits and lifestyle changes.
Resolution from being stripped down bare for a few weeks?
Breaking my regular thought patterns to cause me to alter my interior dialogue?
New habits can form by going out of your comfort zone. I lose a few and gain a few after this tribulation. When you are inside your head long enough you get to ask yourself all sorts of questions. Really uncomfortable ones. I do this a lot and then I try to reckon with them.
I used to discard them.
I don’t have to write them down they’re in my head 16 hours a day when I’m in this realm. A mental dissertation.
I’ve heard of rehabs where they strip you down of all your belongings, outside communications, habits. They keep you in silent seclusion some places not even allowing you to speak. I felt this on the free range side. When I come out the other side generally I’m about 5-10 lbs lighter, weak and a tad malnourished. Just an example on my random days of rest I’ll eat from the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed. My body is trying to regain what it’s lost over the last month.
It leaves you feeling bare and empty.
But
It gives you an opportunity to refill, restock and rethink.
It’s like an annual mental oil change. Do I recommend it? I’m not entirely sure because I sure as fuck don’t like the process and terms. There’s no door to walk into or waiting room to fill out paperwork beforehand. One day you’re working and look at your schedule and your brain says “ok.. here we go” and then 6-8 weeks of your life are about to be whisked.
There isn’t hyperbole in that statement.
How is this beneficial it sounds miserable?
Let me tell you
It is
But
In retrospect this was exactly what I needed to answer and deal with my alcoholism. I wanted to stop drinking for years I just didn’t have the strength, the commitment. It terrified me. I had tried a few times and fell short embarrassingly quick each try.
My first holiday was fairly busy as was my second. It wasn’t until the second one that I got a full taste of charcuterie boot camp. 2021 I was in my feels about my drinking it had ramped up to championship level. While I had it in my mind that summer that I needed to quit it was the reckoning in my head during the holidays that secured it. Add to the environment that my work space at the time was a small 10 ish by 10 ish kitchen with no windows or even ventilation where I did my time for 60-70 hours a week. It messes with your mind when you’re knee deep in high volume and anxiety all the while feeling like you’re on a deserted island.
I had zero distractions to deal with my crumbling mental health. I do not recommend this for everyone. I’m not sure breaking yourself down while in solitary confinement is the best way to accomplish something. But it worked for me. At the end of that 6 week trial my interior dialogue “if you can get through this then why can’t you do the same with drinking?” And I said fine! I’ll try it.
1091 days later I have zero regrets
There was a little more involved than that but I’ve gone over that story quite a few times.
These 6-8 weeks weaken my resolve to the point of almost tears. I come out limping. I don’t wake Christmas Day with the hallelujah chorus playing in the background. I can barely recall my last three. It’s fuzzy. It may take a week or two to restart my computer but it comes around and I feel the changes in me. My mind is manifesting while I go through this process and I don’t even realize it.
“How can I improve my mind?
My body?
My soul?”
I come out the other side and perspectives change.
Gratitude
Relief
Mental strength
It makes sense to me now when my mind wants to dilly dally with new ideas and habits this time of year. I’ve been hyper focused on it subliminally. Your brain slowly starts to move in another direction.
It sees new scenarios on the horizon.
Exhaustive clarity
It changes your channel surfing
I’m doing my best to describe something that I’m just now discovering so if it seems like I’m all over the place it’s because I am all over the place..
Some fantasy took over this time. A change in direction of how I do certain things and what occupies my time and mind. It gives me a vague blueprint of what could be next if I take the time to manifest it. Last year the journey took me to build Graze. At the end of my season I rolled out of the Meadery with the thought of “this time next year I’ll have my own spot come hell or high water”
Manifestation
What’s next? Welp I can’t say yet it takes a little bit to wrap my head around my visions they aren’t exactly scripted.
But
It’s gettin there I can already feel some enlightenment in my instincts. You can exercise your instincts just as easy as you can do sit-ups once you know how to read yourself.
This isn’t to conclude that in 2025 my whole ass life will change. It may just do that but it’s not the requirement nor the quest. It’s only awareness that I have the ability to manifest improvement, balance and change at my fingertips.
I’m tired. I’m beat and have zero focus on anything but food and rest at the moment. My deli will be on autopilot for a few days while I reckon with my mind and physical health.
Bearded Gang 