404 file not found

my brain every time I go to write

To the masses of you who take the time to read my award winning blog, you are well aware that my subject matter revolves around a central theme: STRUGGLE.

I don’t have a doctorate (or a masters degree for that mater), I have not written the next great novel, and I am not in conversation for the next Nobel Peace Prize. When I fill out a resume, I still find myself being pretty proud of that “proficient in Microsoft Word, Excell, AND PowerPoint” caption. My accomplishments leave much to be desired so you could say I’m kind of a big deal.

In actuality, I have no credentials that are going to land me a corner office at a major corporation, let alone garner a cult following through my blog by spewing rhetorical psychobabble vomit all over the WordPress page. I have 68 followers on IG and 69 Facebook friends (giggity! giggity!). I get nervous when talking on the phone to customers at my job. I love the smell of new sneakers, and I find cat videos are a great form of therapy. I say this all to illustrate the point that I am just a regular dude in an irregular world, trying to trying to make sense of life. So why on earth would anyone want to listen to me?! If anything I am just hoping that in a world polluted with click bait and instafamous “celebrities” that it’s an element of authenticity that is appealing.
I think it is a reasonable assumption that everyone has been through some shit. For some, the shit could be rabbit like, for others maybe a bit more Citgo gas station that requires a key attached to a 12″ piece of pvc pipe; ultimately it is still stinky shit. In no way is mine any more or less important than the next persons, but it serves a purpose (or so I hope).


“Authenticity is your most precious commodity as a leader.”

Marcus Buckingham

If you’re a human being capable of reading this, you have probably encountered the error “404 – file not found”. It’s a computers way of saying “I know what you mean, but I have no clue how to help you.” This is pretty much the message my brain sends to me every time I sit down to write. For some reason I have this notion that every time I write, I am going to have something amazing to say only to encounter a gargantuan mental DeRp! I have yet to figure out why this is…but it be like that sometimes. So here I go again on my own, going down the only road I’ve ever known (DUN! DUN! DUN!) I wouldn’t consider myself a drifter whom was born with the sole purpose of walking alone. However, I have made up my mind that I ain’t wasting no more time.

If you have never jammed out to “Here I go again” by Whitesnake, you need to come out from underneath the rock you are living under and go do it now…DO IT LOUDLY!

At this point there is an irony bestowed upon me: I am struggling to write something coherent about the topic of struggle. I am beyond annoyed, but this is the purification process I suppose. I had a goal in mind…and it had nothing to do with Whitesnake, yet here we are. I am at work, spitting sunflower seeds into a tall plastic cup, wondering why I even bothered writing this today.

404 – file not found…once again.

They don’t want to see you win.

As I begin to write, I find myself face to face with a self defeating whisper narrating my every thought. It never fails that when I seek inspiration, I encounter this wall of nothingness waving a finger at me; a metaphorical Dikembe Mutombo reminding me that this is not my house. This gargantuan of an entity never leaves me, we have become friends, yet I do not know what to call him. Throughout my day it lurks in the shadows waiting for the opportunity to call a misdirection play and further push me away from the real task at hand. I find myself frustrated, in a constant state of confusion, wondering how I can want something so much yet find the goal so unattainable. 

Some can call it anxiety, others  see it as an evil spirit: regardless, both share a common characteristic of negative energy born from fear. Fear can often be seen as boot rattling tension associated with slasher films, spiders, or clowns. While this remains true, fear is also the liar that reminds me of how stupid my words are, how pointless my job is, how alone I am, or how much of a screw up I am. Fear wants me to stay stuck, never willing to endure a little bit of the discomfort required to push on to the next level of greatness. Fear is the enemy who knows my intricacies better than my own mother, it desires failure disguised as a state of comfort and complacency. Most importantly, fear is not my friend, and after years and years I have invited him into my house, fed him the greatest of feasts and allowed him to wear my best pair of sneakers before welcoming him back. I have given this thing a place to call home, completely unaware that I was pushing myself further and further away from my dreams. 

If you aim at nothing, you will hit it every time.

-Zig Ziglar

As I stumble through this post, I am realizing a few things: I am not going to win a Pulitzer prize but I am making a very important step towards actually writing. I came into this “project” with no real end game in mind. I knew I wanted to write, and I knew that I had enough life experience to help someone else along the way. What I didn’t know is how in the hell I would actually do it, let alone do it in a manner that anyone would want to read. Here is where the title comes to life…

THE ART OF FAILURE 

When I look at my past, it is easy to identify with all the things I did wrong, the screw ups, the legal matters, the divorce, and the abandonment of my own family and kids. These are all topics that are larger than life affiliated with the FAILURE club. I am not up for father of the year, I am not being honored as a saint, I have been a criminal, and a dropout. I however, see all this as an opportunity to create something amazing. The hurt, a sunrise yellow to illuminate the horizon; the shame, sapphire blue for the calming landscape of the ocean; disappointment, a lively shade of jade that brings life in the form of palmetto canopies. The canvas of life is constructed of the past “failures”. Without these experiences, I am unable to paint the picture of hope and success that the downtrodden can relate to. 

To fail implies that I neglect to do something. For anyone who knows me, I don’t simply neglect to do something I want to do. I will find a way to get it done. I will refuse to believe the lies that I am defined by my past. I will continue to press forward towards the goal in which I have been called to achieve by the master of the universe. Fear is not welcome here and I fully expect success to be on display when my canvas has been completed and adorned in heavens hallways. 

I hope that as I continue on this journey that I might encourage one person to reject the lie that has kept you back from reaching your true potential. 

“They don’t want to see you win, so we are going to win!”

-Dj Khaled