It's the first time in a while that I know what I'm doing

I had intentions on making this blog more relative to something. The trouble with something’s are that they are generally under defined, and more often than not, those something’s are undefined and indefinable. Was it a business that I had only partially started? Or perhaps it was a lifestyle and image that I wanted to portray.  Because you see I thought for the longest time that if I mimicked the actions of other successful people, groups and what have you, it would translate into some form of that same success.  Without any doubt this makes me a fucking poser, and not just any type of poser.  A poser in its truest form. Before you read too far into this, or get the feeling that there is some ominous tone in this post.  Let me be perfectly clear... this is the single most enthusiastic realization I could have ever had! Ever.

That's why we are here again today. Key word is again.  Oh I will offer a ton of FYI on this little spill-my-guts-athon, and the first shouldn't be a giant surprise in context to my little cryptogram two sentences back.

FYI #1: I have been here before. Eager. Hungry. Ready to be honest and ready to write my story for the world to see. FYI #2: This usually will get about two or three posts deep before I forget what I am doing and why the hell I may be doing it. We can start here. Or can we? I guess I should go further in considering nobody knows who I am or anything about me. This may take a few minutes...At least on my end.  You can skip ahead to the part where I don't come across as a creep if you like.

The name is Brett Goodman. I would love to give you the 15th Century rundown of ancestors, like son of Gary, grandson of Dewey, great grandson of Claude, etc. etc. but it would really just sound cooler than it is. Those introductions sounded way bad-ass in my opinion and the motherfuckers giving them usually had swords. I don’t have a sword so we will have to do with the match.com version. I was born in a small town in way northern NY about 30 miles from the Canadian border, and I have surrounded myself with idiots and stupidity ever since.

The purple dot is home, or what used to be.

I'll continue but be warned, I fully plan to summarize this part because it somewhat depressing, and I would prefer to get the point across quick and move on. Here we go. My parents were too young for kids, too stupid for their own good, and too broken as individuals to live without each other. Some equate this to love. I equate it to the perfect recipe for building misguided adults. I have a sister who is great, but who is also equally as fucked as I am. We grew up very lower middle class in a trailer which was once my Grandfather on my Mother’s side situated next door to a smaller trailer owned by my Great Grandmother. My father was a paper mill roustabout turned failed entrepreneur, turned salesperson, turned statistic for the American Heart Association. He could kick a football a mile and he could feel sorry for himself every step of the walk to go pick that ball up.  However, he couldn't teach his kids shit about anything useful, but everyone still loved him. My mother worked at the local Savings & Loan, and was a horrible, horrible selfish person. A skill she continues to master today from a bed in a nursing home. She developed MS when I was 10 or 11 and made sure to hold it against everyone while reminding them of how bad and unfair her life was. As you can see, at least from a high level I hold some contemptuous feelings on this particular topic. Nevertheless, let’s get back to our introduction to me. I’ll further summarize for the sake of time and the lack of brown alcohol on this table.

Youth: I was a Catholic school troublemaker with undiagnosed ADHD (we didn’t have that then). I was the boy that was full of excuses, and full of unharnessed potential. I was constantly told how very intelligent I was, and how undisciplined I was in the same sentence. I was quiet, but I also believed that I was always on the verge of saying too much.

Touched

Teen Years: I wasn’t exactly sure what I was. What teenager really does? I’ll elaborate as this is a trait which has carried over to my life today. I built situational based bravados and personas. I became who I needed to be in any situation rather than ever learning to be myself at any time. If I was with black kids, I was black, Stoners, I was stoned, if I was with Jocks, I was an asshole.  You get it. Otherwise I was your typical teenager in most every other way. I resented the folks, couldn’t do enough to please the old man, and was in constant competition with everyone, even when they weren’t aware that there was a competition being held. I continued doing just enough to not get noticed either for the good or the bad.  I had no goals, no aspirations and didn’t give a shit about where I was going or what I wanted to become.  I wanted to talk, not act.

It was 1992 Son

Post Teen, Early adult years: These years are generally cloudy for everyone. You know what I mean, that state of heightened awareness, learning what you actually are, and where you will go with your life, while mostly drunk. It’s a peculiar and interesting time for most people, retrospectively mine was no exception. It was interesting, but mostly because I found out what kind of creepy shit I was really capable of, stretched out over roughly 12 years. Oh, and that, my post teen, early adult years lasted so long that I can remember almost every incident and indiscretion to great detail. I’m not self-loathing, but here is where I learned to lie, steal, deceive, cheat, fuck people over & pay absolutely no attention to any repercussions because they never seemed to come my way. I’m not going into details here but family members, employers, business partners, and strangers alike all fell victim to my schemes. I stopped acting in such a manner when I turned 33-34ish. I burned some bridges along the way, quite a few I didn’t ever want to travel across again, some I wish I wouldn’t have. I married young. Too young. As you can probably guess ended it badly. I believe that this is the way most young marriages end or just most things in general when they do end. Badly. I had two kids, a boy and a girl, who are amazing and remind me daily that life is good and pure when you look through the right set of eyes. Earlier I mentioned that my parents weren’t able to teach my sister and I much about anything. They got one lesson down pat. How not to parent children. In a way, it’s the best thing I have ever learned.

A common pose for the era

I took jobs I hated, because I never knew what I wanted to be. Fuck, for the most part I still don’t. Here’s a short list of shit I’ve done it’s even exhausting to look at. Grocery store bag boy, cook, pizza delivery boy, furniture salesman, computer salesman, construction worker, painter, U.S. Navy seaman, car salesman, chemical technician/salesperson, box mill worker, auto mechanic, entrepreneur, web site/graphic designer, auto service manager, sales manager.

I went to several colleges for several disciplines, and have mastered none, yet I have a massive bill monthly to remind me of this. A short dossier of my general education includes Bio-Chemistry, Business Administration, Liberal Arts, Accounting, and Keynesian Economics.

I have been an avid alcohol consumer (bordering on alcoholism, I even put myself in a program. Perhaps in another post), smoked about a pack a day for nearly 17 years, and I ate like a pig with little respect for the effects on my body. Somewhere and it has only happened fairly recently, I began to move past all of this.  I learned to balance a check book, I decided paying my bills is better than not, and I am actually worried about my credit score. I have also decided that in the finite timeframe that I walk this earth, being an asshole isn’t an attributable or desirable quality.  Although I will forever be embedded with the Asshole gene, I am learning how and when to use it. Enter…modern day Goodman.

Modern Day Goodman: Post the divorce, I met the person I feel I was meant to meet. She is the type of person who will challenge me to be at my best at all times without any condescending tone. She is why I am writing this, and why I have begun this exercise in self-exploration and self-preservation, ultimately she is why I have existentialist type dilemmas and I just want to question WHY? To everything. Oops, I guess before I get ahead of myself, I have to add a couple of disclaimers here. I am in no way “fixed” nor do I assume that I am fixable. Nobody usually is unless they want to be. That’s the point of this whole writing deal. The second thing is, that I don’t want to give the impression that this person had complete control to turn my life around. I am pretty big on personal responsibility over fates or deities. This was on me and it was likely just the influence or presence of this lady that led me to this path. Moving forward I’m going to probably leave her out of a lot of this as it might just cause unnecessary distractions.

Philosophizing (A real word)

I had a pretty gross realization a few days ago that I haven’t ever done anything to success that I truly enjoy. I mean REALLY enjoy. No hobbies, no passions, fuck, I mean nothing. I like doing some things, but I tend to only touch on them, and generally not very well. Again just well enough to get by.  I cook, I like to work out, hell, I like to sit in fucking chairs. But do I know I love to do any of this shit? No.  Well maybe. I plan on working this stuff in as it is a real part of my day to day, but the meat and the core for this jumbled up half broken English nightmare is going to come from some new stuff I am going to try. Because, “Why the fuck not”?

Now we’re here. What to do next?

*Another disclaimer – I still like to eat like a pig, and like to drink like a Viking. Expect pictures of both and the occasional diatribe regarding what I consider excellent choices in both the mediums. I might also write in a bunch a shit about weightlifting. I get excited sometimes about retarded stuff. If you don’t like it fast forward to the next episode.