Mile Nerd

Look At The Pictures

I know a guy…

With the ability to be the life of a party.

Not in some Jim Carrey, relentlessly in-your-face way. More like a switch he can flip. Whenever ice needs to be broken, he gets people laughing. If conversations at a group dinner turn stale…he knows how to get the table grooving again. Nothing fake. He’s just kind of built for those moments. With an outgoing personality and a seemingly endless collection of stories…it flows out of him easily. And he certainly never minded a spotlight.  

But most of us change with age.

Over the years, his need for attention decreased. He could still get the good times rolling in group settings…but started to step back once the festivities were in full swing.

He seemed to observe the room more.  

With softer eyes.

And then, one year, he saw something new…

Sure, he was still the court jester whenever groups came together. Doing his familiar song-and-dance at the start. But he noticed that socializing (the very thing that gave so much joy) was actually a stressful experience for some. He started seeing it clearly. At every medium-sized to large gathering…there was one person who appeared almost invisible. Sometimes young. Sometimes old. But always kind of hiding in plain sight.  He realized that by being so wrapped up in the fun…he’d always looked right past that person with the sad eyes.

It bothered him. And now he couldn’t stop seeing it. No matter the occasion, there always seemed to be a person sitting alone to the side. He found himself gravitating to that person whenever groups came together. He certainly didn’t want to be a nuisance. But he couldn’t help but observe the loneliness in those eyes. And he was blessed with the gift of gab, after all. Maybe he could just say hello in case of any interest in a conversation.

He started to make a habit of that.

You never know what might brighten someone’s day, he learned.

People don’t always need a song and dance.

Sometimes they just need to be seen.   

—–

I know a guy…

Who finally learned how to unplug.

This whole world of technology caught him by surprise. He’d grown up playing in the streets. As a kid from another era…he spent his formative years riding bikes, examining insects, and shooting hoops. Technology? Please. He didn’t even wear a watch. The only way he realized it was time to go home was by seeing the sun disappear.

But the world moves fast.

As an adult, he grew more and more dependent on devices. Like everyone. Now, his iPhone was lighting up 20 times each hour. And, much like a trained seal, he’d reach for it without thinking. Was every alert really that urgent? Couldn’t he occasionally ignore the buzzing?

It was getting ridiculous. Ok, he asked himself…who’s in control here?
(A) Man
or
(B) Machine

(Hint: the correct answer was not A)

Society moved full steam ahead. Everyone was fully plugged in now. So was he. Netflix and streaming apps for entertainment (because TV alone wasn’t enough)…podcasts when his eyes left a screen…and a phone always within inches of his grasp. By now, he was even checking his calendar app a dozen times per day. But why? Had anything changed since his last glance 10 minutes ago?

He started wondering:
Is this advancement or obsession?

How many times did he need to check out the price of Bitcoin?
How many opinions did he need to read about every world event?
How much information did he need to absorb from these devices?

…how much was enough?

Being plugged in wasn’t necessarily a recipe for happiness. He found himself more annoyed in general. By the endless news updates. By all the ongoing commentary online from countless strangers. He even got bothered by the way people typed “LOL” randomly into sentences. He didn’t even know them. Why was he so easily irritated?

He started to question himself. Maybe there was a such thing as being too plugged in. Was it really necessary to stay engaged with “the world” each day? It was a thought that had been marinating for years.

He ignored it.

And then, one year, he finally learned how to unplug.

Sure, he still needed to spend big chunks of time with technology. There was no way around it. But he started disconnecting more often. He went for walks alone. Leaving his phone at home felt strange at first. No screens, no music, and nothing to entertain him. Not a single post to read. Just him and his thoughts.

He remembered how to turn down the noise.

And it was a breath of fresh air.

—–

I know a guy…

Who tried on a new pair of shoes.

Since childhood, the truth was clear. He was afraid. The ever-present anxiety sat there like a boulder in the pit of his stomach. All the thoughts played on a loop. Would things work out? Was he enough? Was he worthy of love?

He disguised his self-doubt well.

People looked in his direction and saw a brave, confident dude.

But, despite what the world saw, he spent his life in fear. It was his most comfortable pair of shoes, so to speak. Only the tiniest piece of his soul wanted to yell, “I’M TIRED OF THESE DAMN SHOES!” But all that ever came out was a faint whisper. And it was quickly drowned out by the much louder fears.

He noticed that there were plenty of people who were able to leap without a net. Carefree humans in every direction. Didn’t they know they were supposed to worry? How on earth could they live in such a way?

But, secretly, he wanted to experience that kind of freedom too.

He just couldn’t abandon his most comfortable shoes.

Year after year, it frustrated him.

And then, one year…finally…he took a chance.

He was tired of being scared.

So he tried on a new pair of shoes.

And they carried him to new and wonderful adventures.

—–

You probably figured it out by now, but “the guy I know” in the stories above is me.

“And then one year” comes from my imagination of how 2022 might look.

We humans see things in pictures, right? Our oldest memories live as home videos in our heads. So, as we reach the end of this year, maybe it’s good for us to look at some of those pictures. Of where we’ve been. As well as the images of where we might like to go.

I hope you had a safe and healthy 2021. Obviously, this has been a challenging couple of years for us all. I genuinely wish you the very best in 2022. You deserve it. Hell, I think we all do.

See you in January.

MileNerd out.

Howdy, I’m An Internet Cowboy

Have you interacted with me?

I spend my life online, that’s where I truly run free.

Cowboys rush to cyberspace much like a pirate to gold.

The treasure that we search for? Fresh new people to scold.

‘Tis the life of modern cowboys…daily rides through a phone.

The lasso is our keyboard and we squeeze till you groan.

On Twitter and in comments – that’s where I will always be.

Ready to pick apart your words (forever sarcastically).

No humans get off easy – whether women or men.

I invent new ways to flame you and then I rip you again.

Confused by my aggression, you might turn and ask someone:

“Who’s this conflict-loving weirdo acting dickish just for fun?”

Oh, I showed you who I was right when you clicked into my world.

With clever verbal bombs upon your face is where I hurled.

You tweet “puppies are the cutest” or write “pancakes taste the best.”

I shoot down those lame statements and set fire to the rest.

Doesn’t matter what you type because I’ll tell you that it’s wrong.

Yes, even if your post just says you like to play ping pong.

You might visit local beaches or take walks around the park.

But my eyes are on devices, early dawn until the dark.

You will never get away from me if spending time online.

There’s a million more just like me and they follow this design.

Ice cold jabs and hurtful statements is what Twitter was made for.

Dammit, why can’t I just learn the proper way I should spell “your”?

Spelling errors leave me open to a merciless attack.

At least the latest meme coin earned me 7 figures back.

Like I said, I’m always online and I never miss a thing.

The flipside is my tighter pants (in spite of this drawstring).

See, I haven’t left this room in…oh…I’d say at least a week.

And all of my young neighbors look at me like I’m a freak.

I guess that’s why a shrink might diagnose me as a prick.

The real world is so challenging (I still have no sidekick).

So I hide on social media to prove I’m always right.

Lit safely by my laptop while I pick another fight.

Now my fingers have been bent so long, this hand looks like a claw.

Might have been a bit extreme, I think, to clown my own grandma.

Unsure what I should do now since I only act one way.

I have no other passions and lack nicer things to say.

Could I investigate my anger…maybe try to make a change?

Or venture to the outside world – and learn to act less strange?

Wow, this life will have such meaning when I retire as a troll.

Wait, I have to go OUT THERE???

Screw that.

I guess I’ll just stay an asshole.

Home Team

When I think about growing up in West Virginia, a parade of memories begins to march through my brain…

Most days in Morgantown, the population was a traffic-free 25,000.

But on football Saturdays?

The stadium alone had 60,000 people in it.

My sleepy town roared awake for those handful of days per year. Reporters with camera crews infiltrated the streets, hotels were sold out, and excitement filled the air. On game day, everything felt so ALIVE. As an elementary school kid, I’d throw on my favorite Mountaineer shirt and jump into the car with my old man. First stop? His employer’s tailgate party. Like a miniature crackhead, I’d run for the tent and pile a skyscraper of food onto my plate. It was the type of cuisine I never saw at home – mountains of brisket, racks of ribs, and tall towers of football-themed cupcakes. Even Willy Wonka had nothing on me. Then, with full bellies, we strutted into the stadium. It was time for the main event. Were a million people cheering for the same outcome? Because that’s what it felt like.

Absolutely electric.

In high school, I spent those Saturdays amassing a collection of memories with friends. We snuck into university student tailgates…doing our very best to fit in. Obviously, my best was terrible. Any secret dreams of charming a college girl and walking into the stadium together were not to be. It wasn’t time for that yet. Apparently, you need to actually speak to a girl in order to charm her. But my incredible awkwardness was only a minor footnote on those Saturdays. Walking through the gates flanked by my doofus friends…hearing the roar of the crowd…was every bit as magical as ever.  

Once I enrolled in college myself, game day took on a different kind of life. My hairy roommate Chris woke us up at 5:00 in the morning – courtesy of AC/DC’s “Back In Black.” Cranked to max volume, of course. We rubbed our eyes, yawned, and kicked off the special day by chugging one of these each. Tailgates were now 90% liquid. Most of our pregame time was spent in “the pit” – the craziest area for college lunatics like us to assemble. The kind of place parents warn their children to avoid. From shotgunning beers to keg stands…we enjoyed all the wild drinking rituals that get quickly outgrown in the years that follow. Thankfully so. But, at the time, we were young enough to have an appetite for all of it. I even have some vague memories of crowd surfing from the tops of port-a-potties.

It was absolute madness.

Still, none of that matched the energy of the game itself. Not even close. No matter how old I got, nothing outside the stadium could compete with the beautiful perfection of what was going on inside. As always, that hopeful energy shared between 60,000 fans was the biggest highlight of all.

Man, I adored that team.

But there was one I loved even more…

See, that college football stuff was amazing. But the pros took it to another level. And the nearest big city was just a 90-minute drive away. It’s impossible to fully express what I felt for the Pittsburgh Steelers. All the affection described above was child’s play compared to my massive man crush on the black and gold. So, let’s just put it this way…

In college, I spent a night outside Three Rivers Stadium on the sidewalk to get playoff tickets…

In the peak of winter.

In Pittsburgh.

I was absolutely 100% a fanatic. Sure, the sidewalk temperature dropped to can’t-feel-my-toes levels in a hurry. And it probably wasn’t great for my health. While an angry penguin has never stabbed me repeatedly with his frozen beak…I imagine the pain is similar. But none of that mattered. My excitement for those playoff tickets was off the charts. Plus, there was plenty of entertainment to keep me awake until the morning…

As you might imagine, humans who spend January nights on Pittsburgh sidewalks aren’t exactly boring. We quickly realized we could only take so much shivering. So, by midnight, my fellow diehard fans and I started dragging huge wooden crates over from the Lazarus store across the street. Why would we do such a thing? To light them on fire, of course.

The combination of (A) our possible hypothermia, (B) numerous bottles of whiskey, and (C) our undiagnosed insanity – created quite the scene. As the hours passed, things got a little nuts. One of the guys took a big swig from his bottle, sat in the fire for a few seconds, and then ran around the stadium with the ass region of his Wrangler jeans on fire.

(Obviously, we cheered wildly for him)

Like I said…it sure wasn’t boring out there.

At around 2:30 AM, things finally started to calm down on the ol’ sidewalk. I found myself sharing a nice, quiet moment with the two old guys sitting next to me. Their names (in all seriousness) were JimBob and Bill. In those days, there were no iPhone distractions available. We couldn’t aimlessly scroll through social media. If we wanted to pass the time, we had to make actual conversation. So, at one point, Bill pulled out his Harley Davidson wallet. He carefully removed a well-worn photo of an adorable little girl. After softly rubbing his thick beard, he said in a grunt of a voice:

“She’s the apple of my eye. Means more to me than anything in this whole damn world.”

I was shocked. And touched. Not to mention slightly delirious from the cold. But…wow. I mean, this guy was running around the stadium with his ass on fire just a couple of hours ago.

I said, “Bill, that’s so sweet. What about you, JimBob? Do you have any kids?”

JimBob looked me square in the eyes, paused for dramatic effect, and said:

“None that I know of!”

…followed by a booming yuk-yuk sounding belly laugh. In his mind, he’d just told the greatest joke in history. And it was impossible to resist his unique brand of JimBob charm. The guy was having a ball. So…weirdos that we were…we cracked up until our stomachs started to ache. Sure, it was a frigid sidewalk in the middle of the night. And, no, I’d never see those guys again. But we had a blast out there together. At one point, the team owners even ordered pizza for everyone as a way of saying thank you for our devotion. Or maybe they were just scared we might die on their property. Either way, those were the best slices of my life.   

I loved that team. Every win was a celebration. Every loss was gut-wrenching. But we experienced all of it together. As strange as that probably sounds to people who don’t enjoy sports…it really does feel like being part of something. I think that’s where the affection comes from. You and your tribe are united through thick and thin.

Over the years, my affection for the Steelers was definitely tested…

Poor management, lackluster effort, and questionable decisions became the norm. But then…it finally happened. They drafted a star player with the talent to change everything. The type of quarterback who could throw a ball like JimBob could tell a joke. It was incredible to watch. Unfortunately, my friends in Pittsburgh began to share their not-so-great interactions with him…

Apparently, the star player was making a habit of walking out on checks after dinner. As if he was above paying for food. I had buddies throughout the city and some of them worked at these restaurants. They were literally chasing down this millionaire in parking lots begging him to pony up what he owed. Even when his meals were comped (as often happens with star athletes) he never tipped a cent.

Then came the final straw…

My friend Julie was planning a special birthday gift for her son Max. He’d never gone to a Steelers game, so she wanted to make it an unforgettable experience. She started putting money aside to save up for great seats. Even called in a favor with her boss to get a pregame sideline pass. Clearly, Max would never forget this day. Seemed like a good possibility he might even meet a player. As expected, the kid was overjoyed when Julie handed him those tickets. Much like me in elementary school, he could hardly sleep the night before the game. He woke up early, put on his best team shirt, and jumped into the car with his parents. In his lap was a brand new football. Hard to know for sure, but it certainly seemed possible that Max could end up with a signature or two.

As they stepped onto the field, the kid was in awe. His heroes were standing right in front of him. Since it was very early in the pregame routine, players casually strolled by. Max waited patiently for his moment. And then it happened. The star quarterback passed right in front of him. Somehow, the kid found the courage to speak. With a soft voice, he asked:

“Could you please sign my football?”

The star player quickly grabbed the ball…

…and kicked it down the field.

Laughing to himself while exiting to the locker room.

Max stood there in shock. As did his parents. A teammate saw what happened, chased the ball down, and quickly brought it back. He apologized and scribbled down his signature. But the damage was done. Even as I type these words, I find it hard to grasp such incredible douchebaggery. What the hell? Like a fucking comic book villain, this guy kicked a child’s ball and laughed about it?

Never could wrap my brain around that one.

My team’s star player was a complete asshole. I imagine Max will, in fact, always remember that birthday. Just probably not in the way his mom intended. As for me…after that day, I found it very challenging to root for the team I loved. For a while, I tried to go through the motions. But, man, I just couldn’t shake that image. Until it finally hit me…

I was done.

Look, I’m no moral superhero. I’ve certainly rooted for teams with questionable players. But this one felt personal. I really loved the Steelers for a long time…but, just like that, those days were over.  

You guys know me. I like to share personal stories as a way of making a point. These posts are my way of expressing what’s been on my mind for the last month. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking about lately…

We tend to act like our closest relationships will be around forever. It gives us a sense of security. And, no, I’m not referring to a dumb sports team if that’s what you’re thinking. Let me ask you this…

How many friendships have you seen end in your life? Ever known someone estranged from family members? I imagine you’ve witnessed a person plan to spend their life with another human…until that didn’t work out.

So, my point is this…

Our closest friendships can end. Our dearest loved ones can leave us whenever they want. And I think it’s so important to remember that. Because we take our closest bonds for granted. Yeah, I shared a story about a football team. But here’s the thing…

When I catch a Pittsburgh Steelers game now…it doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.

Relationships aren’t bulletproof.

None of them are.

So, for fuck’s sake, let’s remember to take care of the connections we value most.

They don’t come with a lifetime guarantee.

**Final reminder for anyone who subscribes by email – the old service is ending (or has already ended). Details are in the previous 2 posts**

From The Observation Deck

You are a voyeur.

Let’s just look at the data:

• You have, at some point, peeked into a stranger’s hotel room when walking by their open door.  
• It grabs your attention every time someone has an intense outburst in public.
• You enjoy movies and TV shows. For the exact same reason as the rest of us – because it’s fun to be a fly on the wall. Clearly, you like watching humans and their stories. You even spend your free time doing it.

Translation:
You are a voyeur in life.

Me? I’ve been a captivated viewer of the humanity song and dance for as long as I can remember.

Hell yeah, I’m absolutely a big-time voyeur too.

As a kid, I even took things to another level with what I called “science experiments.” For example, one day I unwrapped a Kit Kat and stuck it in a prominent location. Right on the edge of the kitchen counter. Guess what happened whenever someone walked by? They stopped, broke off a piece of chocolate, and popped it in their mouths. Even family members who claim to not have a sweet tooth. Nobody made it past that Kit Kat.

Clearly, it didn’t take much to entertain me. I did that kind of stuff all the time and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The “science experiments” eventually just turned into a passion for people-watching. As I grew older, I’d grab a drink at a café or bar and start studying the room. Have you ever observed the body language between 2 people on a date? It’s incredible. Sometimes you can actually see the moment a woman decides in her head, “Oh yeah, I’m going to sleep with him.” It’s 100% nonverbal but clear as day. Much like the moment when someone realizes without a shadow of a doubt, “There is absolutely no chance of a second date.”

(Editor’s Note: I probably should have spent more time going on my own dates – but that’s a story for another month)

During one of my people-watching expeditions, I saw a young boy run right into a star athlete who was clearly his all-time hero. Literally rammed right into him in the middle of a restaurant. Boom! The boy’s whole world swelled up into a hurricane of happiness when he realized who he’d crashed into. Just one high-five and a laugh from this gentle giant had such a profound impact on the kid. I wondered if it was the happiest 10 seconds he had ever experienced. Would he look back at that memory for the rest of his life and smile and the thought of it?

On the flip side, I’ve also seen the precise moment a little girl’s heart broke into two. I couldn’t hear a word of what was being said, but it was obviously something huge. Have you ever observed the exact millisecond someone stops being a kid? If so, you probably understand what I’m describing. When a childhood abruptly ends right in front of you, that image gets stored in your brain forever.

Month after month and year after year…I just kept watching the humans.

Even with normal day-to-day stuff, I realized how much we can see about a person if we slow down enough to pay attention. When we really look at them. From people pleasers to confrontational types…from the silently tortured to the habitual spreaders of joy…we are all such interesting characters. Even when we try to hide ourselves, we can’t help but reveal so much about who we are.

As the years passed, I started getting obsessed with how aggressively we get in our own way. What the hell is our deal? I saw it over and over. When push comes to shove, we humans (with very few exceptions) would rather hold on to a shitty identity we’ve grown accustomed to than face how wrong we’ve had it all along.

All of the above probably gives you an understanding of what I mean when I say I’m a big-ass voyeur. I’ve done a lot of watching. To an unusual degree. I just find humans to be endlessly fascinating. But, along the way, every so often…I encounter a “wow” person. Someone who stops me in my tracks. Not because of wealth, power, fame, or anything like that. A person in those categories is often stuck in the same mental boxes as their less fortunate peers. They just have more stuff. No, when I say “wow” people, I’m referring to those who don’t keep banging their heads against the same walls as the masses. They seem to have figured out a better way to live. I’ve spent a long time observing the hell out of them to try and figure out what these people have in common. And hopefully I can articulate it in a somewhat coherent way.  

(Disclaimer: In no way am I claiming to be the master of any of this. I’m not even close. The point is just that I’m a passionate observer who notices stuff. Nothing more)

So, without any further delay, here are the main 3 traits I’ve observed that “wow” people share…

1. An Ease About Being Wrong.

There’s a certain tension the vast majority of humans have when it comes to being wrong. Sometimes slight. Other times, way more noticeable.

Today, I was picking up lunch and started watching a random lady in the parking lot. She wanted to walk behind a van, but the Camry next to it was backing up. Camry guy wasn’t much of a driver. He was struggling back and forth. The lady could have easily just walked to her right and gone in front of the van. There was even a sidewalk right there. It was maybe 4 steps away. But she stood impatiently waiting for the Camry to back up out of that space. It occurred to me that…even in these tiny ways…we can have such a hard time changing from our original thinking.

“Wow” people have a very different relationship with being wrong. An ease about it. And this branches out into so many significant benefits. It allows them to be much more willing to fail. In big ways and small. Their life motto almost seems to be, “Dare to suck.” Because of that, they are so much more eager to try new things. I’ve watched it closely for years. Wondering why their lives seem more full and vibrant than most. And it all seems to grow out of an ease with being wrong.

The reality is it’s way harder for most of us when it comes to the big stuff. I know many of you are probably thinking, “Oh, I can be wrong, no problem.” But now look honestly and deeply at the biggest things in your life. Who you are, what you believe in most strongly, and what you stand for. Are you open to the possibility that you might have some of it wrong?

Hey, maybe you’re more comfortable with it than most. But I’d be confident betting every cent that many of the people reading these words (myself included) are on a path to reach the end of our lives and realize we had something big very wrong. You see it happening with old folks all the time when they finally “figure it out” at the end. Others won’t even get that far. They’ll never be able to even consider being wrong in any significant way. Obviously, I don’t know most of you. I can’t say any of this for sure. But I’ve observed this relationship with being wrong very closely. And with so many people. It really does blow my mind to think about how much better so many lives could be…if we just allowed room for ourselves to be wrong about the big stuff.

Possible Solution:
Again, I don’t have any answers here. I’m just an observer. But isn’t our relationship with being wrong something we can practice? Wouldn’t we just get more comfortable being wrong by saying it more, thinking it more, considering it more, etc? This certainly seems like an important muscle to build. And, clearly, the “wow” people have it way more developed than the masses.

2. Emotionally Articulate.

• Some humans are John Wayne types. They repress their pain and shove it all below.
• Other humans feel the need to appear happy at all times. As if they’re putting on a show.
• And some humans look at emotions as an annoyance. Almost aspiring to be a robot.

But “wow” people have a different way of handling their feelings…

They accept their humanity. Not just trying to feel the same way each day. They can articulate their pain, anger, and joy. Does that make them perfect? Hell no. But it does make them more comfortable in their own skin. A “wow” person wouldn’t poo-poo therapy or pretend to be ok when they’re not. And, because they don’t need to seem strong all the time, they are also able to ask for help when needed. Instead of building a fortress out of repressed crap and getting trapped inside forever…they actually deal with messiness head-on.

Possible Solution:
Again, I’m only an observer. But I’ve actually seen how effective this one can be. For a week, carry a notebook with you constantly. Again, just for a week. All you need to do in this notebook is write down every time you feel a new emotion. Simple, right? Ok, but now think of how often someone impacts you emotionally in a day. The nice person at the store who makes you smile, the dickhead in traffic who makes you upset, the scene on TV that reminds you of something sad. And so on.

The notebook thing is a very simple idea. We tend to think of ourselves as logical people. But humans are such emotional beings. By actually recording all the changes you go through in a week…the notebook exercise tends to be a revelation. And who knows what might happen from there? I’m certainly no expert. But, if you do commit to the week, I don’t think there’s any way to avoid being surprised by how many feelings you go through in that time. Most of you will probably ignore the idea. That’s understandable. But at least ask yourself one question – is there a good reason to not want to be more emotionally articulate?

3. Love Of Life.

Every “wow” person I’ve ever seen has a deep love of life. Unfortunately, as we know, there’s a wide range of traumas people go through – some to extreme degrees. It can be an uphill battle just to know it’s ok to love your life. Or to know that’s even possible. I certainly can’t tell you how they got there…but a “wow” person wants to fill their cup and let it overflow onto others. We all want to be seen as kind and caring, of course. But I have yet to meet a truly kind human who isn’t also kind to the person in the mirror.

Possible Solution:
Obviously, this is by far the hardest one. I’m a universe away from being a doctor. Clearly, we are all dealt very different hands. I have no possible solution to this one. All I know is that the inspirational “wow” people seem to live with a deep sense of gratitude.

That’s all I’ve got, guys. Those are the 3 traits I’ve found most commonly shared between the kinds of people who stop me in my tracks. This is certainly not earth-shattering news. I can’t imagine the emotionally retarded guy who struggles to be wrong and hates his life is out there wow-ing a bunch of people.

(As I was typing this, I started remembering one of the many times my perception of a situation was wrong. I’ll leave you with that final story)

Bonus Story

Many years ago, I used to teach an adult computer skills class at night. I constantly walked around to look at the work on people’s screens. Most of the night, I was flying from student to student. It was a tight squeeze and occasionally I’d brush against someone’s chair. No big deal. But, one day, my boss called me into her office as soon as I walked in the door. One of the ladies from class had come to her in tears. Apparently, this student was furious with me. Huh? I hadn’t spoken 15 words to her since the first day of class. She always just sat there quietly doing her work. But my boss explained how this lady was talking about suing the school. How it was VERY serious and needed to be addressed…

Wait, what?

My jaw hit the floor as I listened for the next few minutes. Apparently, the lady claimed that I rammed into her chair over and over. And that I did so intentionally every time I passed her. That she was just trying to learn a new skill and I wanted to pick a fight with her. She worked as a bus driver and claimed the stress of this mistreatment made it very hard for her to do her job.

What. The. Fuck. Was. This?

I was furious. Much like a cartoon animal with steam coming out of his head. I mean, my students loved me. I tried my best to teach these people every night…and now I’m being accused of complete and utter bullshit? Why the hell would someone just make up lies? I had a room full of witnesses. How could a person do this?

We sat down for a conference. Me, the student, and my boss. I was so angry that I literally couldn’t see straight. All of my energy was focused on how badly I was being wronged. The more angry I became, the more the student sunk into her chair. Please. Don’t act like the victim here. You’re the one making up lies about me!

This went on for the next few minutes. And then…

The student broke down crying. She couldn’t speak above a whisper. But she finally started explaining that she worked the overnight bus shift at the airport for many years. And, late one night, when transporting a single passenger to a fairly deserted parking lot…she was raped. The words were barely audible. That incident caused a domino effect in her life, countless problems, and a deep loss of trust in people. She finally said, “I understand that you’re probably not bumping my chair very hard. But you have to realize…for me, it feels like an attack each and every time.”

This is the person I was yelling at?

I immediately felt 3 inches tall. I apologized and told her that I had no idea of the impact a bump like that would cause her. We worked together to try to figure out a way to help her feel more comfortable in the classroom. And around me. You better believe that I never bumped into her chair again.

Looking back, I was so offended by “her lie” that I didn’t even bother to ask why she was telling it.

Sometimes we can be wrong even when we’re right.

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On to the post…

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I’m stuck behind a left lane bandit

Oh yeah, you know the one…

He’s crawling down the freeway interfering with my fun.

I can’t believe his driving, what’s the deal with this lame guy?

So I look into his window and can see he’s from Shanghai.

I swerve back to the right lane and begin to ride your tail.

While continuing to check my phone and read routine email.

I fire tweets off quickly as my foot slams on the gas.

Inching closer to your bumper now – I refuse to make the pass!

But my exit is approaching, so I roll right into work.

Talking loudly on my speakerphone (to ignore colleagues like Dirk).

I duck into my office and quickly hide behind my desk.

The people all around me here? Quite literally grotesque.

Loud drama queens and girly men that’s what this place is now.

A team of brainless Oprah fans who try to act highbrow.

I’m exhausted by their worries all about their lot in life.

Except Latina file clerk girl – could she be my next ex-wife?

This place has grown so nutty, I just don’t know what to do.

Coworkers who surround me, all they do is misconstrue.

Their problematic thinking – far too often led astray.

So easy to convince them boogeyman is on his way.

At least we’re in this building now (not on my couch with Zoom).

Long-ass meetings full of panic that we face impending doom.

My colleagues feel so foreign, I no longer can relate.

What’s wrong with modern interns now – I can’t even get one date?

All I said was shove that Pfizer shot…well, where the sun don’t shine.

And then just yelled, “FUCK VACCINE TALK” (ok, that didn’t make Juanita mine).

No injection in my body when unsure what it’s about.

Unless they can invent one that will make 6-packs pop out.

I won’t care what’s in a needle if it gives me sexy abs.

Or one that might relive me from this stubborn case of crabs.

The sheeple all around me here think I’m a problem child.

Well, they’re the microchipped ones – with blood data now profiled.

I bet they’ll try to bribe me, thinking I will get their shot.

10 steps ahead is where I live, they must have all forgot.

Yup, Dirk just ordered Pizza Hut – all part of his game plan.

You need more than awesome food to pull one over on me, man.  

Can you spot the simple tricks like theirs? As obvious can be.

My views will never change. They’re built on logic only I can see.

In fact, I truly think it’s healthy washing slices down with Coke.

And casually ignore signs telling me where I can’t smoke.

While you all get so brainwashed, I am free as I can be.

My thoughts are mine alone. And need only make sense to me.

Things that enter this round body, yeah I always analyze.

Could tell you each ingredient in Little Debbie pies.

That might be a stretch to say (I never really look).

I tend to eat most everything from any kind of cook.

I’m a grown-ass man with freedom, that’s what life is all about.

These people won’t impact me – oh hell no, I won’t sell out.

Nice, it’s time to close up shop here so I’ll chill out back at home.

With construction now completed on my brand new biodome.

I’ll have distance from the noise there, from vaccines I’ll never take.

Far away from all the people who created this headache.

No, you’ll never understand me, but I’m still a real-life guy.

And here’s what the truth is…

I’m American as apple pie.