My Life Has Been Peculiar Enough of a Journey Thus Far to Have Given Me Enough Material For a Memoir At Age 31

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While my life hasn’t been an easy one, it’s been an entertaining ride — to say the least. While I may not have found them funny while many of the stories I have to tell were taking place, enough time has passed to where I’m able to laugh at them and myself today. I see the entertainment value in them and I truly believe others do and will as well. To an extent far beyond just an occasional story worth telling in a blog post. I believe I have enough material to fill a book, literally. A memoir, more specifically. Which has always been one of my favorite genres as a reader. Which eventually led to me wanting to one day write my own, after reading the likes of Tucker Max’s I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell (and the rest of his collection and every story on his site), comedian Richard Lewis’s memoir The Other Great Depression: How I’m overcoming, on a daily basis, at least a million addictions and disfunctions and finding a spiritual (sometimes) life and more recently Brandon Novak’s Dreamseller: An Addiction Memoir.

Many of the stories I’ve lived through I believe are worth telling are ones of insanity, destruction, chaos, violence, love, the destruction and loss of it, loss in general, pain, depression, tragedy, hilarity and eventually recovery and maybe even some spirituality. But before I even knew the definition of the words spirituality or recovery (or sobriety for that matter), there was so much bizarre shit happening on a regular basis that even back then I couldn’t help but feel like I should write a book or a screen play based off the very odd and at times downright shocking stories and events I was living through. Part of me started to think maybe the reason they were all happening was just the Universe’s way of providing me with endless material, at the cost of having to suffer through them. The way I see it, profiting from pain is okay when it’s your own. The one positive to life’s worst offerings are it’s given us some of the best art ever created, be it writing, music, poetry or any of the other outlets artists turn to for therapeutic reasons when in pain.

From early drug use at ages 12 and 13, growing up in a neighborhood where everyone was doing or selling some kind of drug, the stories alone these circumstances gave birth to are endless. Then by 17, I was in a relationship that I could probably write a completely separate book on, as it lasted four and a half years officially yet the drama of it all drug out for another five or so. It was with my high school sweetheart, who I eventually ended up getting my own apartment with. A girl whose good looks and physical appearance I was so awestruck by the first time I laid eyes on her in Summer school (go figure), I didn’t notice she was missing fingers on each hand, as that’s simply how she was born. I never noticed and when a friend brought it up later on the bus home, I thought he was lying. I mean, you’d assume you’d notice something like that if you had saw someone every day for the past few days. Hand to God, I was so taken back by her looks, I suppose I was looking at everything except her hands. It didn’t matter anyway, it never bothered me and I never cared. But you must admit, it’s unique.

It was the relationship itself though that provided the stories I believe are worth telling. The unrelenting magic and passion it provided in the beginning, the devastation and heartbreak it caused me and her too I’m sure as well as what I learned from it. Plus there’s just an endless amount of hilarious stories it provided the basis for. Ones you didn’t have to be there for or live through to find as funny as I do.

Also during this time, I was working for a company that was hired by a major home improvement warehouse retail chain — to remove the birds from inside of their stores at night after they closed, on a Nationwide basis. Now I’ve mentioned this before and nobody commented on it but I know I can’t be the only one who finds this as odd as I do. I got on airplanes and flew around the country, trying to remove birds from stores, overnight nonetheless. I must say, all things considered, we were damn good at it too. Thus, the Nationwide contract.

Just flying all around the country with the crew of guys I worked with alone produced a decent amount of stories worth telling. When you add in the oddness of the job we did, the number of stories worth telling and entertainment value only multiplies.

It was after I mutually parted ways with that company after a big blowout with the owners, due partly to their immaturity and and partly my anger issues back then, followed by the end of the four and half year relationship I mentioned above, that things really started to spiral straight down for me. I started drinking more and picking up more. While I had an up and down history with drugs as was, it only worsened through the loss of the job and girlfriend just four months after finally legally being allowed to drink in a bar. On top of that, the apartment was in her name so I had to move out, which I only used as an excuse to feel sorry for myself. Especially when she had a new boyfriend weeks later and moved him in, weeks after that. Pregnant weeks after that. I was furious. At her, him and mainly, myself. But I’ll be damned if I was to take responsibility for anything back then. Through all of this, I was losing friends and family members to addiction, suicide and other random tragedies at a rapid pace. To be honest, it could be said I still am and probably always will be unfortunately.

While I know I have enough stories to literally fill a book, I still go back and forth for a multitude of reasons of whether or not I should actually write one. Part of me feels like I’m so close to some of these stories and therefore find them more funny or entertaining than others will. But another part of me knows a good story when he hears one and I feel like I have plenty of them to tell and nothing to lose. Below are some links of stories I’ve written about the very peculiar life I’ve lived so far. Feel free to check them out and comment whether or not you’d be interested in reading more stories of the sort or willing to buy a copy.

Writing About the Human Condition, via My Thoughts, Observations, Experiences, and Opinions — Founder of Journal of Journeys and BRB INC ©

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