Happy New Year, guys! It’s been 2019 for a couple of weeks now and things have been… interesting. Not a good interesting, like Oh wow, this is neat! More like a Huh… that’s interesting… didn’t see that coming. It hasn’t been bad, it’s just been about the same.

My New Year’s Resolution was to go to bed earlier, wake up earlier and have a more productive year. It hasn’t gone quite that way. I know a lot of this falls on me, because if you say you’re going to do something you should do it. I believe in holding yourself accountable, and that is exactly what I am going to do.

I’ve been dropping the ball lately, in more ways than one. I don’t really want to get into all of the ways that this is true, so I’ll stick with one: drinking. Now, full disclosure, I’m not saying that I have a drinking problem; that’s not what this is about. This is, however, about the moment I realized I should probably start getting my shit together.

That moment was this past Monday. January 14, 2019, or as I will forever know it… Lost Monday.

Some of you may have seen a Facebook post from me about an interesting morning I had on Monday. The story goes… I woke up outside of a random apartment in Burbank while wearing a bathrobe. I was woken up by three cops and eventually had to make my way back to my apartment in the rain. It’s a little weird, a little crazy, but 100% true. It’s also something that would definitely happen to me.

Before I go into the play by play of what exactly went down that night, allow me to give you a little insight into the story. So, there’s this girl and we’re pretty good friends (by the way, anytime a story starts out with “there’s this girl” you know something stupid is about to happen.) We’re chummy. We also like to drink together, and we’ve had some pretty fun nights. For the purpose of the story, let’s call her Stella.

There was one night in particular that was really fun, when another friend of mine came to visit. We went to the bar and had quite a few shots of tequila. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but tequila brings out another side to me. A side that gets super confident and likes to dance in public — which is exactly what I did, on top of couches and all. We were hammered.

Later that night, when my visiting friend and I were in the apartment, Stella texted me that she was coming over. The last thing I remember was texting OK, Cool. Except the next thing I remember, I’m waking up to forty-five missed calls from the same person. Oh, shit, what the hell happened? I was so confused.

Apparently, she had locked herself out of her apartment, and unbeknownst to me, I had locked her out of my apartment, too. She sat in the hallway, trying to get in and eventually had to wait it out all night until she got back home. We had a good laugh about it, but I felt really bad. I could only imagine what that would be like. Luckily, my moment was just around the corner.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Stella. She’s been pretty busy doing her thing and I’ve been busy doing my “thing”, I guess. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a thing, but it’s something. I’m not gonna lie, I miss her. Maybe it was the holidays, maybe it’s this terrible weather, but there’s definitely a void. Of course, it’s probably my fault because this is why I can’t have nice things. (Had to drop the title.)

This past Sunday, I went to Parlour Room, the bar located directly across the street from me. Fun fact, I have always lived within walking distance of a bar. Is that bad? Probably. I consider this place my living room or my office, because a lot of the time I’m up there writing something, maybe even this. It’s a safe space for me.

I wasn’t expecting to see Stella there. I was surprised, but it was good to see her. I’m going to gloss over the rest of this part of the story, but let’s just say that I had a few too many whiskeys than I planned on having that night. For some reason, I was in a “mood”, as I like to call it.

When the bar closes, I usually hang behind with the bartender and finish my drink, finishing up the conversation. I usually get some last minute advice before going home. That night was no different, except I didn’t follow my own and advice and just go to bed. Instead, I went with Stella to the apartment she is currently staying at.

Now, just so we’re clear, Stella is not a bad influence on me and she’s usually the more level headed of the two of us. She’s a good person, and she means well, but I also mean well and (I think) I’m a good person. I wanted to make sure she got home safely, even though I had more to drink that she did. Also, for the record, I didn’t drive but I did have my car keys with me. More on this later.

We get to this apartment and that’s when everything becomes kind of a blur. I remember going to Burbank. I remember this apartment having a ton — and I mean a ton — of action figures all over the place. Even the bathroom had a bunch of stuff in it, like posters and little trinkets. And bathrobes!

(Fun fact about drunk me: I love wearing bathrobes. I don’t know what compels me to do this, but whenever I’m a feeling a little saucy I like to get into something more comfortable. Like, ultimate comfort. Nothing is more comfortable than a bathrobe.)

I put on one of the bathrobes and went to the couch, where I was going to sleep. As she started falling asleep, I went outside to partake in my worst habit. I didn’t know where to smoke, so I walked over to a gate right outside the door. After a few minutes or so, I went back but I realized something odd about the doors: instead of numbers, they were letters. You’d think that wouldn’t matter if you knew what door you came out of… except I didn’t.

It’s been raining for the past week. I’m used to rain in Florida, but this is a colder rain and I don’t like that. I had to get into the apartment, but I couldn’t. The door was locked. Worse, my phone was inside the apartment with my jacket. Thank God I had the bathrobe, because I was going to need it in a big way. That’s the last thing I remember before “going to sleep”.

I don’t like being woken up. I am the worst person to deal with in the morning. I don’t like you or myself or anyone for that matter. I just want to be asleep. I will yell at you, I will say things that are out of my character. I’m not a morning person, you guys. I think morning people are strange. Who wakes up with a smile on their face? Just a wide eyed, full toothed smile? Psychopaths, that’s who! Anyway… the cops didn’t particularly understand this.

I’ve had a few run-ins with police, but this one was a first. One, they were all female cops, so shout out to equal rights (I guess?). Second, I had no way to prove my identity. Third, I don’t know if any of you have ever had to answer a series of questions after being shaken from your sleep, but it’s pretty hard to do. Try it, I’m pretty sure you won’t like it either.

They asked me why I was out there and I told them the same story: I had locked myself out after going for a cigarette. My friend is apartment sitting, and she’s letting me stay tonight. As I’m saying this, I’m trying to find my phone and the cops are not cool with that. Now, in my defense, I was trying to prove who I was — which was when I realized that I didn’t have my phone, wallet or car keys, which were all in my jacket. I wasn’t trying to come off as threatening.

In their defense, I understand how crazy this all looked. I was also kind of being a dick, because again, I’m not a morning person. For example, one of the cops asked me my name and I’m pretty sure I said “Don Julio, who gives a shit? You can’t prove it”. Probably not the best thing to say in that situation. Which is probably why one of the cops had chopped my leg out from under me and got me down on the ground in one swift move. Not gonna lie, it was pretty impressive.

They got me to my feet and put me up against the wall to do a pat down. I had nothing on me except for some quarters and those cigarettes. I couldn’t even remember Stella’s phone number, which I know by heart. My last resort came when the cops knocked on the door I was sleeping in front of, except instead of Stella it was some random guy who didn’t know me, nor I him. I was sleeping outside of the wrong door the whole time.

You ever been in a situation where you realize you made a huge mistake and it’s all just one big misunderstanding? That’s exactly what this was. One big unfortunate series of events that all could have been avoided had I just known what door I came out of. It was at this point that I agreed with the cops that I should probably go.

Miraculously, I did not go to jail for this. Maybe they felt bad for me, or maybe they thought I was homeless, but they escorted me of the complex and let me go on my merry way. In the rain. I would’ve asked for a ride, but now was not the time for jokes. Now was the time to think, and it’s really hard to think when you’ve had more drinks than you’ve had hours of sleep.

Burbank and Hollywood are not that far from each other — maybe about a 20 minute drive — but it’s a lot farther on foot. I walked in the rain for an hour or so before finding a gas station that would let me use a phone (Fun Fact: I had to go to more than one). I got my mom to call me an Uber and took an UberPool back to my apartment. It was a clutch move. When I got home, it was 8:45 am. I slept in my freezing cold apartment and woke up at 4:00pm.

Lost Monday… The day was over before it ever even began. A day that I will never get back, and to be honest, I don’t really want it back. I would like to do it over again, but that day wasn’t meant for me. I didn’t deserve that day. I squandered it. On the walk to the gas station I thought about what got me there: the drinking, the longing to feel wanted, the loneliness. Nothing is lonelier than walking in the rain, though. I don’t want to ever feel like that again.

I’ve done the walk of shame a few times in my life, #HumbleBrag. But this was not one of those feel good ones. The shame I was feeling was a little more personal. The biggest thing that I thought about was my age. I’m twenty-nine, which isn’t old but it’s also not young (some of you are rolling your eyes, and you can stop). Twenty-five year old me could do the walk, no problem. I’m going to be thirty in April. I have to start acting my age.

I could sit there and count the moments where I could’ve avoided the whole incident, and I did for most of that Monday evening, but I do think it was worth it. For a second, at least. I did get to see Stella, and that’s really all that mattered to me. I was just worried that I said something stupid or that I would regret without meaning to. That’s the worst part about drinking: a drunk mind speaks a sober heart. Fortunately, I kept my foot out of my mouth long enough to not totally mess anything up.

As for the rest of the year going forward, I’m going to keep my resolutions as they are: I want to stop drinking on the weekdays, go to sleep earlier and at least try to become a morning person. I also want to stop smoking cigarettes, because the phrase no cigarette is worth sleeping outside of a random apartment and almost getting arrested is now something I can say to remind myself that smoking is bad.

The good news in all of this is that I did get all of my stuff back and I got to hang out with Stella again — sober this time, which was a nice change of pace. So, in a way, it all worked out and now we have a funny story to talk about. It’s also one of the worst wake-up calls I’ve ever had, and now I think I’m ready to answer it. I have to hold myself accountable and do what needs to be done to better myself. It’s time to grow up.

Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to mention the funniest part of this whole story… Later Monday night, after I got my stuff back from my friend at dinner, there was a commotion on my street. A woman was chasing a man around some cars for about twenty minutes or so right outside of my building. As I’m walking my dog, the cops show up and being the snoop that I am, I had to check it out.

When I came back down for a smoke, I caught the tail end of the scene and what do you know… it was the same cops from before. They laughed as they made eye contact with. I’m pretty sure I made their day. At least I knew how to get back inside the building this time.

Until next time…

SF

“And there you are standing all alone/in the rain like ‘Oh, no!’/and you don’t know where to go/because you’re in the rain.” – B.o.B, “The Rain”

Well, well, well… it’s the end of another year. 2018 was interesting (interesting is a filler word for when I have no idea what to say). Now, usually I just sit around for a few hours and contemplate the year that was, the year that’s coming and how the two are going to be different. Sometimes it’s depressing and sometimes it’s optimistic, but nevertheless I think it is necessary to do some “personal inventory” and see what you need to re-organize. Instead of doing it by myself in a dark room, I’ve decided to bring you guys along for the ride but we’re going to have some fun with this.

For those of you that aren’t familiar or have possibly forgotten, there was a time in a young millennial’s life when social media wasn’t dominated by Facebook and Instagram, but instead by Myspace, the OG of social media. What a time that was! Going home and logging onto the computer to check and see if you had any messages, friend requests or comments — or even all three if you were cool (or a girl).

If you were like me — at worst moderately cool but not interesting enough to be that cool — you needed to pass the time instead of refreshing the page to see if your crush was online. Enter the MySpace Survey. I was no stranger to them because, fun fact, I like being interviewed for things — that’s why I go to so many job interviews, it’s exciting stuff. It’s also why I’ve decided to incorporate it into my Year-In-Review spectacular (that’s what I’m calling this, for now).

Here we go…

Interviewer: Hello! Welcome to the MySpace Procrastination Center. I am going to ask you a series of questions and you have to answer them as honestly as possible. Or not, it’s up to you. I am going to ask the questions in bold font, and you are going to answer them in regular font. First, what is your name?

My name is Shea.

You sound like a boy?

I mean, yeah, but I like to think I’m more of a man. Or an Adult Guy.

But Shea is a girl’s name, isn’t it?

It’s a unisexual name. It can be male or female.

That doesn’t make sense, but then again I am also a fictional character from the year 2008 and I don’t know any better. We still say things like “that’s retarded” and “I’d let Bill Cosby buy me a drink”—

Ok, I’m sorry, but can we get to the questions please? I’m not sure where this is going…

Very well, first question…

1. BEEN GIVEN AN ENGAGEMENT Ring?

This is a weird place to start, but no. Why would I get one? I’m not sure how that works, but I’m pretty sure my brother didn’t get one when he proposed to his girlfriend. (Shout out to Ryan and Nikki!)

2. LONGEST RELATIONSHIP?

Romantically? A year and a half, maybe. My longest relationship technically is my parents, though.

3. LAST GIFT YOU RECEIVED?

I got a pair of slippers from my mom that I’m wearing right now and I love them.

4. EVER DROPPED A CELL PHONE?

Yes, but not as bad as someone who recently dropped her phone from four stories up, onto the sidewalk. Talk about a dropped call, am I right?

5. WHEN’S THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?

Define “worked out”? Because if we’re talking gym, it’s been well over a year and a half. Last time I played ball was a couple of weeks ago, though.

6. THING(S) YOU SPEND A LOT OF MONEY ON?

Food. I actually don’t spend a lot on gas but I spend a lot on cigarettes, which is nasty to say and is probably the biggest reason I’m quitting. Definitely regret that.

7. LAST FOOD YOU ATE?

I just had a donut.

8. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX?

This is gonna sound weird, but I love a good pair of eyebrows. After that, I’m not sure. Hair? Eyes? Smile? Whatever your best asset is, I’m sure I’ve noticed it.

9. ONE FAVORITE SONG?

Jungle Land by Bruce Springsteen. Love that song.

10. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?

Los Angeles.

11. HIGH SCHOOL YOU ATTENDED:

Bayshore Christian School, home of the Faith Warriors.

12. CELL PHONE SERVICE PROVIDER:

I have Sprint, and I’m content with that.

13. FAVORITE MALL STORE:

Wow, this is definitely a 2008 question. I walked around a mall the other day thinking, I used to hang out at these places… it’s bizarre. FYE was always my favorite store, though. I sold a lot of DVD’s back to them so I could go see a movie at AMC. They had certain albums you could listen to before you bought them. I feel old saying this. Those were the days, man.

14. LONGEST JOB YOU HAD:

Probably a year?

15. DO YOU OWN A PAIR OF DICE?

No, but if this were 2008 Shea the answer would be an emphatic YES, I HAVE FUZZY DICE HANGING FROM MY REARVIEW MIRROR AND I LOVE THEM! I miss that car and those dice.

16. DO YOU PRANK CALL PEOPLE?:

Not anymore, but boy did we get into some trouble back in the day. It’s hard to prank call people now, so I wonder if kids still do it? We used to dial numbers that could spell out a name — for example, Matthew has seven digits — and we would leave voicemails or whatever, trying to reach the “name” we dialed. Needless to say “Matthew” didn’t really think that was as funny as we did.

17. LAST WEDDING YOU ATTENDED:

Shout out to my Uncle Mark Lopez on his wedding this past November!

18. FIRST FRIEND YOU’D CALL IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY:

I’d call my brother, for sure. That would be the first person I’d call. He wouldn’t believe me though.

19. LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR BEST FRIEND:

I was actually fortunate and blessed enough to come home and see my boys this past year during my Uncle Mark’s wedding, and the homie Steven Poncin came out to Vegas for Thanksgiving to kick it and watch the Tar Heels, so November was a good month for me.

20. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT:

Wendy’s has the best deal with that 4 for $4 deal, McDonald’s is the GOAT though.

21. BIGGEST LIE YOU HAVE EVER HEARD:

I love you… no, that’s too depressing. Honestly, the biggest lie I’ve ever heard I can’t even repeat because I don’t to put this person on blast. That’s how big of a lie it was, but I gotta admit it’s a really funny story. It’s a shame I’m such a good person…

23. WHERE’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE TO EAT WITH FRIENDS?

Back when I had friends, Beef O’Brady’s on Mac Dill was the place to go. We were there every Monday for Monday Night Football and “Pour Til They Score”, arguably the greatest deal of all time. As long as the score was at zero, you got to drink for free. Between fantasy football and slamming beers, Steven doing the hot wing challenge and chicken taco Tuesday, this was the best spot. Not even close.

24. CAN YOU COOK?

Fun fact about me, I can cook. I don’t do it a lot, but if given a set of instructions and the tools needed, I can get the job done. And you won’t die either, so there’s that.

25. WHAT CAR DO YOU DRIVE?

I drive a 2013 Kia Optima that I named Kiki, and she loves me. And we’re riding. And she’ll never ever leave from beside me.

26. BEST KISSER:

Obviously the answer is me, but seeing as how I’ve never actually taken a step back and kissed myself, I’m gonna have to leave this one blank because I know I have an answer, but I don’t have a name to put. Not even out of anonymity, the name just escapes me.

27. LAST TIME YOU CRIED?:

Interesting. Probably watching E:60 or something, because I’m a sucker for those Make-A-Wish pieces they have. I like positive stuff. Also, any time I hear The Rainbow Connection. If you want me to cry, that’s how you do it (but please don’t).

28. MOST DISLIKED FOODS:

Pasta is the worst. I hate it and I don’t care what anyone thinks about that. I’m not changing my stance on it. If I were stranded at sea and found an island made out of pasta, I’d float around until I found a better island or starved to death. True story.

29. THING YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF:

Oh man, where to start… I like my sense of humor. I like that I can make myself laugh at anything, including myself. I like to make people laugh. So, probably that.

30. THING YOU DISLIKE MOST ABOUT YOURSELF:

Oh man, where to start… since I don’t want to take up too much space, I’ll just say my hair. It doesn’t matter if it looks fine, I will always think it looks terrible. It’s probably my biggest insecurity, and that’s saying something.

32. LONGEST SHIFT YOU HAVE WORKED AT A JOB?:

Technically, the longest I ever worked continuously was a 20 hour shoot I did a couple of years ago, for a short film called Danny Does Laundry. I started working at 6 am, didn’t get done until 1 am.

33. FAVORITE MOVIE?

The Godfather.

34. CAN YOU SING?

I’m probably not your cup of tea, but you bet your ass I’ll try.

35. LAST CONCERT ATTENDED?

Borns? I have no idea who he(?) is but it was a last minute decision and it was a great one at that because it was at The Greek, and that place is awesome.

36. LAST KISS?

It’s been a good minute, that I can tell you.

37. LAST MOVIE RENTED:

I miss Blockbuster… but I did rent Avengers: Infinity War when it came out on DVD because I can’t get enough of that movie.

38.ONE THING YOU NEVER LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT:

My cellphone, my wallet and a thing of Clear Eyes.

39. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT:

Honestly, back home on the beach. Anywhere with a beach, actually.

43. LAPTOP OR DESKTOP COMPUTER?:

Laptop, even though I use neither. My iPad is technically my laptop.

44. FAVORITE COMEDIAN?

Dave Chapelle is the GOAT.

45. DO YOU SMOKE?

I do, and I’m not proud of it. I started smoking regularly in 2008, and I have been smoking ever since. That’s a decade’s worth of cigarettes and when I see that typed out it makes me sad. I honestly regret ever starting the habit and I’m hoping this is the last time I’ll have to answer this question this way.

46. SLEEP WITH OR WITHOUT CLOTHES?

Without. Why wear clothes when the blankets are basically like your sleep-time clothes?

47. WHO SLEEPS WITH YOU EVERY NIGHT?:

My little Layla Bear, the best dog in the world!

48. DO LONG DISTANCE RELATIONSHIPS WORK?:

I wouldn’t know, but I guess it all depends on how strong the relationship. I’m not sure if I could do it, but I’ve seen it work for some.

49. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?

Fair question… at least ten, all in Florida. Never been pulled over out West, so that’s a good thing. But I’ve had my fair share of interactions with police.

50. PANCAKES OR FRENCH TOAST?

Normally, French Toast but if my mom is making breakfast, then pancakes. She makes the best breakfast and I dare anyone to challenge me on that.

51. DO YOU LIKE COFFEE?:

No… I love it and I need it to survive.

52 HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?

Scrambled.

53. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY?:

I think it’s an interesting thing to think about because I think everything is up for interpretation.

54. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?:

The homie TC Capell, chatting it up about how dominant I am at fantasy football.

55. LAST PERSON ON YOUR MISSED CALL LIST?:

TC, who really wanted to tell me how great I am at fantasy football.

56. WHAT WAS THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECIEVED?:

“You are literally the greatest fantasy football player. Ever. I’m honored I get to lose to you every year. ” – TC Capell

58 NUMBER OF PILLOWS?:

I sleep with two, but in my opinion you can never have too many pillows.

59. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING RIGHT NOW?:

This feels a little inappropriate.

60. PICK A LYRIC, ANY LYRIC:

“I never dreamed that I could fly over the moon in ecstasy but nevertheless it’s there that I am shortly about to be… CAUSE I GOT A GOLDEN TICKET!”. Effing classic. Why is this in my head? Answer… it’s always in my head.

61. WHAT KIND OF JELLY DO YOU LIKE ON YOUR PB & J?:

Easy, no jelly. I’m not a PB&J guy.

62. CAN YOU PLAY POOL?:

Not only can I play, I can win after a couple of drinks.

63. CAN YOU SWIM?

True story… I learned out to swim twice. I forgot how to swim one summer after a surgery and had to re-learn how to swim when I was thirteen in order to go to Camp Keystone.

64. FAVORITE ICE CREAM?:

Cookies and Cream. Either that or Reese’s Cup ice cream.

65. DO YOU LIKE MAPS?

I friggin’ love maps, my guy. Love ‘em.

66. TELL ME A RANDOM FACT ABOUT YOURSELF:

I have no tear ducts. No, I’m not going to explain it but they’re not there. How do I cry? Great question for a doctor, not for a 29 year old wearing slippers.

68. EVER ATTEND A THEME PARTY?:

I’m not really sure what that is so I’m going to say yes. A birthday party has a theme, right? To celebrate someone’s birthday. Or Christmas, to celebrate Santa’s birthday.

69. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON:

Football season!

70. LAST TIME YOU LAUGHED AT SOMETHING STUPID?

Two seconds ago when I answered question 69.. and just now when I realized the last question was number 69.

71. BEST THING ABOUT WINTER?:

I’m not a cold weather guy, but snow is cool. Hot drinks. The fact that it’s the end of the year and I can look back on everything.

72. NAME OF YOUR FIRST PET?:

Mia, the world’s greatest Pomeranian. RIP, baby girl.

73. DO YOU THINK PIRATES ARE COOL OR OVERRATED?

I’m from Tampa so I have to say I like pirates, but the Bucs are a little overrated.

74. BIRTHDATE:

April 20, 1989. Yes… that’s 4-20. I know.

75. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE?:

Ultimately, I want to work in the film industry and tell stories to the world.

76. ARE YOU ON A LAPTOP?:

Why are you so concerned? No, I’m on an iPad. Pay attention.

77. ARE YOU SMILING?:

I’m always smiling.

78. DO YOU MISS SOMEONE RIGHT NOW?:

I do. I miss a lot of people right now.

79. IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHERE WOULD YOU GO?:

It depends on the scenario. If I could go anywhere with an infinite amount of money then the answer is Vegas, hands down. If it was a free trip to anywhere in the world, I’d want to go back to Cannes.

80. ARE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?:

No, but in 2008 I was. Oh, how time flies.

81. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?:

I do have a crush, and I’ll leave it at that.

82. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NAME?

Ok, so the typical answer I would give would be my name, but there is someone I know who has the best name ever in my opinion… an old friend of mine, Zoe Zalta. It’s a great name, I’m not gonna lie. (She also has great eyebrows, too).

83. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BATHING SUIT?:

Why do you think I’m wearing a bathing suit? Am I by a pool or on the beach or something? How am I getting Wi-Fi on the beach if this is 2008? But if you must know, it’s orange. Like, really orange.

84. DOES YOUR SCHOOL START IN AUGUST?:

You’re starting to run out of questions, I see. But yes, back then it started like early August.

85. DID YOU GO ON VACATION LAST MONTH?:

You know what, I did. I went home to Tampa and I went to Vegas a whopping three times. Don’t judge me.

86. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A CRUISE?:

I have and I want to do one again soon. It’s like a moving hotel. Plus my cousin Jacqueline is a dancing phenom in a cruise line, so I definitely have to see her show.

87. ARE YOU UPSTAIRS?:

Yeah, why? Do you need something?

88. ARE YOU IN LOVE?:

That’s an interesting question… I’ll get back to you on that.

89. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL?:

HAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, man! What a question! Yes, I’ve been in a few.

90. DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SEE ANYONE PARTICULAR RIGHT NOW?:

I do. I’m not going to name anyone in particular, but there are a few people I would love to see right now.

91. HAVE YOU EVER SLEPT IN UNTIL 3?

I have, back in the day. I don’t do it anymore though.

92. HAVE YOU EVER SAT ON A ROOFTOP?

I go on my roof at least once a week. I love rooftops.

93. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A CAR?

What kind of question is this? Yes, plenty of times.

94. HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT YOUR COUSIN WAS HOT?

Well this is a weird left turn… if I’m being honest, yes. David Lopez is a stunning human being and Mike Lopez is a walking sex machine, so it’s hard for me to say no. Next question.

95. HAVE EVER BEEN ON MYSPACE FOR MORE THAN FIVE HOURS?

I love how specific this question is. Yes, there was a time back in the day where I would spend hours on MySpace. Absolutely.

96. HAVE EVER HATED THE WAY YOU LOOKED?

You know… there have been times where I’ve felt like that, but for the most part I’m fine with the way I look. I could be in better shape, though.

97. HAVE EVER BEEN LONLEY?

I have. I think we all get lonely every now and then, or at least we feel that way. Having been in LA for a few years, I don’t feel lonely as much but when I first moved out here I definitely did.

98. HAVE YOU EVER FELT LIKE DYING FROM EMBARRASSMENT?

Frequently. I would say once a week.

99. HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT YOUR FUTURE?

I think about it everyday. There’s an infinite amount of possibilities and it can be a little exhausting at times, but I’m always thinking about my future.

100. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO AFTER THIS SURVEY?:

Good question… I’m going to post this for people to read. I’m not sure what they’re going to learn from it, but hopefully it helped them pass whatever time is left in the new year. Then, who know? Maybe I’ll go for a walk. Maybe I’ll have my last cigarette. Maybe I’ll write out a plan for the new year and actually hold myself to it. But at 11:59pm, I’m going to lift my glass and say goodbye to the year that was and say hello to the year ahead of me. Because in 2019, I am finally going to get what I want…

2019 is the year I will finally be able to have nice things. Or maybe it won’t, who knows. EIther way, I can’t wait to see what happens.

Until next time…

“Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.” – Benjamin Franklin

If you’ve ever met me, you’d notice that over the course of a conversation I might casually drop a sports reference or two. Some people I know hate it, some people I know expect it. Whatever it is, sports play a big role in my life — especially basketball. College basketball is dominated by my love for the North Carolina Tar Heels but the NBA has always stood out to me and mystified me.

I have a favorite team for every sport — shout out to the Bucs, Phillies, Lightning and Tar Heels! — except for the NBA. Over the years, my NBA team has been whatever team Vince Carter, my favorite Tar Heel/player/person, is playing for. He’s still in the league after 20 years (God bless him) so I’ve been a Raptor, Net, Magic, Sun, Maverick, Grizzlie, King and now a Hawk. However, if I had to pick a favorite team, one that’s close to my heart, it would be the Philadelphia 76ers.

Growing up, my dad would tell me stories about how Dr. J choked Larry Bird in Boston. About when Moses Malone said the Sixers were going to win in 1983 by going “fo, fo, fo”. About how Charles Barkley would dominate guys half a foot taller than him. Stories about Wilt, Billy Cunningham, Hal Greer, you name it. My dad loved the Sixers (he doesn’t care for the NBA anymore) and, like my love for sports, it rubbed off on me.

Allen Iverson was the coolest dude in sports growing up, at least for me. He single handedly dragged the Sixers to the Finals in 01. I remember my brother and I praying to his poster in my living room during that first game, where he went ballistic and made Tyronn Lue a highlight in the “don’t get too close to the sun” department. They won that game, but eventually lost to a much better team. It’s a typical Philly ending: hard fought, but you’re the underdog. You’re not meant to win. That’s why the Eagles Super Bowl win was so amazing: They weren’t even supposed to be there…

You’re probably wondering why I’m bringing any of this up. Well, the point is simple: We all love an underdog story.. and that’s exactly what this is, for better or worse.

I have always identified as an underdog, ever since I was a kid. I’ve had to overcome a lot of different odds and prove people wrong. I walk around with a chip on my shoulder — proudly, I might add. I set lofty expectations for myself and I’ve had a go for broke attitude at times. A lot of times, I’m way out of my league and it comes crashing down, whether due to poor planning or poor execution. But just like every Philly sports fan has muttered at the end of a bad season… There’s always next year.

I’m writing this on the last week of the year. The Sixers just played the Celtics and while they lost the game in spectacular fashion — Kyrie was unreal down the stretch — they have come a long way to get that marquee Christmas Day matchup. And it’s all thanks to one guy having the balls to do something that would piss off every Philadelphia sports fan for the first half of this decade: lose on purpose.

And now, a lesson on The Process of Tanking: Learning To Win By Losing, made possible by Sam Hinkie and the Philadelphia 76ers:

In 2011-12, the Sixers had made back to back playoff appearcances (the 7 and 8 seed, respectively). They made it to the 2nd round and lost to Boston. They had an aging Elton Brand but a young core of players in Jrue Holiday, Andre Iguodala, Lou Williams, Thad Young, Evan Turner and Spencer Hawes, as well as some draft picks. It was a solid team — a surprise team — but an overall interesting team in the Lebron dominated East.

That offseason, the Sixers made a trade with the Lakers for All-Star C Andrew Bynum, giving up longtime Sixer Iguodala in the “process”. Bynum hurt himself in the preseason — bowling, of all things — and never played a game in a Sixers uniform. EVER. They missed the playoffs, and head coach Doug Collins was fired. It was a gamble that didn’t pay off, but the Sixers still had chips on the table and they were about to go for broke with the next bet.

In the 2013 draft, the Sixers took Michael Carter Williams and made a trade to land the 6th overall pick from New Orleans to take F/C Nerlens Noel, who was coming off an injury he sustained after one year at Kentucky. They were solid prospects and two guys you could maybe build a team around. New GM Sam Hinkie had a different idea though…

He was going to tank the season in hopes of getting better picks. To get Noel, they had to trade Holiday and let Williams and Young walk in free agency. They went 19-63, 3rd worst in their history. Michael Carter Williams did win ROY, however Noel missed the entire season due to injury. Hinkie traded every morsel from that playoff team in exchange for basically nothing. Literally, just draft picks and mouth guards.

The next season was the 76th season of the 76ers. All that losing only got them the third pick, which they used to take ANOTHER big man with health concerns, a guy who had only been playing basketball for only four years — Joel Embiid, out of Kansas. His teammate Andrew Wiggins was the first pick overall but Embiid was atop of a lot of boards. He had a raw talent, one you could build a contender around — only if his back would let up. Embiid, much like Nerlens Noel, did not play a single game for the Sixers his rookie season.

Embiid didn’t play for a while actually, and the longer he sat on the bench, the more the Sixers would lose. In the two years that Embiid sat out, the Sixers won 28 out of 164 games. Combine that with 19 wins the season before they drafted Embiid, and the Sixers had done something only one other team had done: finish three straight years with less than twenty wins. Sam Hinkie was shown the door. The process was over…

Except it was only beginning. After striking out the year before and taking ANOTHER FRIGGIN BIG MAN, the Sixers historically bad season had paid off and they were awarded the first pick. Ben Simmons, a Lebron-esque guard/forward hybrid from LSU, was the unanimous selection. With Simmons and Embiid, the Sixers finally had the two cornerstone players they could hang their championship hats on.

Simmons would also sit out the whole year due to injury, which is a requirement if you get drafted by the Sixers apparently. They ended up in the draft lottery again but this time there was a buzz around the Sixers. Once again they found themselves with the first pick after a trade with Boston, thanks to the assets Hinkie had accumulated over the years. They ended up whiffing on the pick, in my opinion, but they’re still set up nicely for the future. (Still, Jayson Tatum is a nice thing the Sixers should have right now, but can’t. Thanks, Jerry Colangelo.)

Forget him though. All of this comes back to one man with a crazy plan: Sam Hinkie. The man who started the process and trusted it more than anyone never had a chance to reap its benefits. Sure, Hinkie tanked the team and made money while doing it, but none of this bright future is possible without him taking a leap of faith and saying, we’re gonna suck now… but we’re gonna be better off because of it. You have to go through the mud to get to greener pastures, right?

The Sixers are now one of the favorites in the Eastern Conference, thanks in part to Embiid, Simmons and a new addition in All Star F Jimmy Butler, who the team could resign given all of the cap space they have. Are they going to win a championship this year? Probably not, but then again who really knows? They have a chance, though; only time will tell when the rest of this process will come to fruition and what the true results of that process were.

I guess it also depends on what your definition of success is. if you value results, like we all usually do, then championships are what you want. However, if you also value the opportunity to play for the championship — like the Buffalo Bills of the early 90s, going to four straight Super Bowls only to lose all of them — that can also still be considered a success, because few get the opportunity to lose like that. Right now, I would love to be the Bills and have the opportunity, but I’m more like the Sixers: stuck in a long process of losing, hoping it all pays off in the end.

When I was twenty years old, I was at the lowest part of my life. I was a dishwasher with no car, no motivation and no clue what to do with my life. One night, I wrote a script loosely based on my life and had this crazy idea: I was going to actually make this one day. I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to get to Hollywood and be in the film industry. Nearly nine years later, six of which were in college, and I’m in Hollywood and the process continues. It’s just going pretty slow.

I want to be a film producer. If you‘re wondering how one becomes a producer, don’t worry because that makes two of us. It’s a little more complicated than it seems, which is already pretty complicating. You can either go the independent route and try to get projects started from scratch, or you can be an assistant somewhere and possibly move up through the ranks that way, which is my preferred route. While I had a couple of internships during grad school, I never really got enough experience to warrant consideration for a job so my job, essentially, has been looking for a job.

I’ve been on a ton of interviews and each time I leave with the same feeling: that went well, I think I got it. I rarely leave an interview not confident in myself. For some reason though, I haven’t been able to land a job anywhere. After a few days of waiting by the phone, I start to question why no one will hire me or if I’m not good enough to be out here. I’ll admit, it’s not easy to write about this because it makes me feel like a failure. A failure who hasn’t even begun to really have a chance to fail, honestly.

It’s also hard to talk about because sometimes it can come off as whiny and I get it. I’m not the only one going through this struggle. I could probably be more proactive in my job search, maybe try something new like walking into someone’s office and proclaim that I work there now — which, true story, my career advisor in grad school said she did and didn’t agree with me when I said we can’t just do that now. If we could, I’d be working at Disney right now and you know that’s true.

I’ve heard from a ton of people on what to do to land a job. Little cheats and techniques that you can use to put you ahead of the curve. The truth is, it’s different for everyone. No one has the real answer because if it were that simple, we’d all have jobs. That doesn’t annoy me as much as hearing someone say why not make a career change. Why not go into Real Estate? Why not go into teaching? Have you thought about coming home to Tampa?

These are all valid questions, and ones I wish my mother would stop asking me (I love you mama, it’s all good!). Still, much like the whole “why don’t you bring home a girl” thing your mom is likely to ask you — and believe me, she does — this is something I don’t have an answer for. I don’t know why. I try my best and put on my best face, but I can’t make anything happen. This applies to both my job search, and my dating life.

Fun side note about both of those things… I have a Tinder account and a LinkedIn account. I go on both everyday and I have the exact same chance of succeeding on both apps. I have actually had a few successes on both — I’ll score a date from Tinder, an interview from LinkedIn, or some job site equivalent. In both scenarios, I can’t believe someone was drunk enough to let this happen, but in both scenarios I’m also confident I’m the guy for the job. Unfortunately, in both scenarios, I end up sitting at the bar like why doesn’t anyone love me?

(Side Bet… Which will happen first: I get a job or I get a girlfriend? Let’s put the odds for job at 20-1 and girlfriend at 25-1, or if you’re playing the moneylines, job at +200 and girlfriend at +250. You can even place your money on the Sixers to win the Finals, which is also at 20-1, so the odds are the same. Place your bets, I’ll keep you updated.)

Still, I don’t want to give up on this. It all comes back to that word: failure. I’ve taken some risks in my life, but the biggest gamble I’ve ever made was talking myself into being a big time Hollywood producer. But I also don’t make bets that I don’t think I can win. If I take a chance, I could lose a lot; but if I don’t take a chance, I’ll never know what could’ve been. I’m not saying I have illusions of grandeur, but if I can take these illusions I have and turn them into a movie, maybe I’m not crazy after all. If I give up now, then to me that’s a failure and that’s not something I’m willing to accept. Not now, not ever.

I started writing this on Christmas, during the Sixers game. Today is the 26th. It’s been a week since I had my last job interview, one that I felt extremely confident about… at least up until this point. I haven’t heard back from them, despite the interviewer telling me he’d call me one way or another to let me know if I got the job (this very rarely happens, so I thought I got it). I still have hope that I’m going to get the call back, but I’ve been down this road before. It doesn’t look so good.

Then again… maybe it’s not over. Maybe by the time I post this, it’ll be a different story. Maybe I’ll get a call tomorrow morning and I’ll get that job and finally — FINALLY — feel like I earned something, that all of this wasn’t for nothing. Sure, I won’t be where I want to be but I’ll be one step closer. That’s all I want, after all; a chance to prove I belong here. To show what I can do. That I, too, can be a winner. That’s why I look to sports for motivation.

I’ve seen a barely six-foot point guard lead a team of misfits to NBA Finals. I saw Brad Lidge strike out Eric Hinske in Game 5 of the World Series and make my dad cry for the first time in my life. I saw Nick Foles throw for three touchdowns and catch one in the Super Bowl. I’ve also seen Villanova rip my heart out, but we won’t go there (we’ll never go there). I’ve seen Rocky Balboa go the distance against Apollo Creed, and I’ve seen him beat Creed, Clubber Lang, Ivan Drago and Tommy Gunn. I’ve seen some improbable things play out right before my eyes, both good and bad. That’s the beauty of sports: anything can happen.

Personally, I’m tired of losing. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough or that I’m not cut out for any of this. I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m in second place. I want to hold my head up high and put that one finger up in the air (not the middle finger, guys). I’m not sure how or when it will happen, but I’m going to keep trying to figure it out because I want to win. For me, it’s all about trying to find a positive in the negative — to try to learn how to win by losing, because it’s OK to lose. You’re better for it.

Failure can be your biggest distraction or it can be your biggest motivation, it all depends on how you look at it. If you don’t do something in fear of failure, you can never win. If you try at something and fail, you can learn from that mistake and if you keep trying and keep learning, you might just figure out a way to win. Eventually. It’s not easy, though; after all, it is a process. You just gotta put your faith in it and trust it’ll all work out.

Until next time…

“Trust the process.” – Sam Hinkie

Let’s take a break from my stories to talk about something that has been bothering me for quite some time now. A question so bold, so daring, that I just can’t seem to find an answer for it: Are we sure we like Halsey? I mean, are we absolutely sure?

Now for some context… about a year ago, I was watching the “news” on Snapchat (RIP). I put news in quotes because it was E! News and that’s not necessarily news, depending on who you ask. The topic of that particular day was about celebrities that millennials liked. For example, these particular young millennials liked Chris Pratt. They liked Emma Stone. However, for some reason, millennials weren’t sure if they liked Halsey.

It was the first time I had ever stopped and thought, A). Who is Halsey and B). Why is this important? Why was this (E!)news? But most importantly, I wanted to know where I stood on the issue.

Let’s answer the easiest of these questions: Who is Halsey?

According to Wikipedia, Halsey is a 24 year old from Jersey originally named Ashley (Fun fact, Halsey is an anagram of Ashley and the name of Halsey Street Station in Brooklyn. The more you know, right?). Her father is African American, with Irish ancestry (who knew?) and her mother is Hungarian and Italian. She grew up playing the violin, cello and the guitar, which she picked up at age 14.

Her childhood — which consisted of her and her family moving a lot — caused her to be “used to packing up and leaving, condensing myself to be a digestible version because people don’t have that much time to get to know me”. Interesting quote, because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do here! But the question here is how do you get to know someone based on the surface alone, without actually meeting them?

Halsey has said that she uses music as her “therapy”, a way to get out the frustrations of her life that she couldn’t express otherwise. She is biracial, bipolar and bisexual; she has a lot to say about all of it, too. Her songs are pretty personal, and she has been a huge supporter and activist for people who are disenfranchised, such as the LGBTQ community and victims of sexual assault, among other things. She is a role model for many and her heart is in the right place.

So why don’t people like her? I have no idea, man. It’s between two things: her social media presence and platform, and the quality of her music. Let’s start with the former.

One of the biggest gripes I’ve heard about Halsey is that she’s a little too preachy. Sure, she has a platform and she has a voice that can carry that platform, but there are those that feel she grandstands a bit. Personally, I think all celebrities grandstand, for the most part. I mean, it’s in their nature to. There are times, though, where one will walk into a situation and become unfairly criticized for it.

For example, she came under a little bit of fire a year ago for going on Instagram and complaining that the hotel she was at needed to cater to other races, specifically in regards to the shampoo. Her heart was in the right place and she brought awareness to my Anglo-Saxon ass on the issue, but there were some who were wondering “are you black, though”? I don’t think that’s fair, for anyone to question the race of someone else. Unless she’s Rachel Dolezal-ing it, but I don’t think that’s the case here.

There are celebrities who, oddly enough, get criticized for not commenting on things. (My future wife) Taylor Swift got dragged for not revealing who she was voting for in the 2016 election, even though I felt it was pretty obvious. Sometimes not commenting on social issues or what’s going on around you can be held against you. Then, ironically enough, once you jump on the bandwagon there will still be those who hold it against you for following a trend to gain followers (see: Kim Kardashian). That’s not the case with Halsey, because not only has she opined on the subject, she got in on it before you even knew about it and I believe it’s genuine.

For the most part, she seems like a really good person. A stand up gal who you could have a great night out with and fall in love with the next day. She has an interesting story, too, and how she’s dealt with her personal battles is admirable. She’s a beautiful, talented and outspoken person. I can’t take that away from her, those are good qualities to have.

But do we like her though?

I’ll be honest, my first time listening to Halsey was on that Chainsmoker’s song, Closer. That was probably the best and worst thing to ever happen to Halsey. We all loved the song when it first came out. It was a catchy tune. But like most nice things, we have to go and ruin it by playing it over and over and over to the point where we begin to hate it. Still, that’s what has brought her all of this success.

I asked a few people what they thought about Halsey. Almost all of them said they didn’t know what that was. When I brought up Closer, that’s when the responses started to get mixed between Oh, she’s aright and I hate that damn song! If that was your introduction to Halsey, chances are you weren’t going to care for her other songs. Closer, which she co-wrote, is easily her most successful song but it’s not her best.

I never knew any song of hers other than Bad At Love. (I, too, am bad at love; it’s why I can’t have nice things. But you can’t blame me for trying!) She has her own Apple Music Essentials playlist — which, while we’re on the subject, the band A-Ha has an essentials playlist… they had one hit record, why do they have an essentials list? My point is, the essential list can be a little subjective. Is her music really essential? Is the song The Feeling by Justin Bieber and Halsey really essential to anyone? I don’t know, maybe.

She has a couple of good songs, I guess, but it’s not really for me. I like her style though, I have to admit. She’s got an interesting voice and her songs are pretty emotional and candid. I just don’t know, though. I’d have to have a sit down conversation with her to really figure this out. I mean, that’s the only way we can get to know a person is by talking to them, right? Her music is confessional, in a way, but I’m not sure if I’ve ever learned anything from her or if it’s made me feel a certain way.

It’s weird how we do that. We like these people we’ve never met and we hang on their every word or thing they do. For example, Michael Jordan was my idol growing up. I wanted to be like Mike, but I also wanted to meet him one day. I’ve heard a ton of stories — some from people I knew and some that were published — about how Jordan is kind of an asshole. Still, he’s my hero. He’s the greatest basketball player ever (we’ll have this debate later, but I’m right). Then there’s Kanye.

Since I was 15, Kanye West has been the most influential figure outside of my parents. I wish that were a hyperbole, but it’s not. I feel like I know Kanye, but I don’t. I’m just a fan. I truly value and cherish the music that man has made over the years. Hell, I’m listening to it right now when I should be listening to Halsey. However, unlike Halsey, Kanye’s music is essential to my life. I’ve supported this dude through all of the crazy antics — “George Bush doesn’t care about black people”, the VMA’s, etc. — but lately I can’t look at this dude and say here’s a guy who’s got his shit together. I still like him, though. I will never not like the guy. He could put on a MAGA hat on TMZ and say slavery was a choi— oh, wait, he did that. Yeah… I don’t know, man. Still like him, though. Why can’t I apply this logic to Halsey then?

Maybe the answer lies in Halsey, herself. She said it in the Wikipedia quote — “it’s hard for people to get to know me”. Maybe that’s why those people weren’t sure if they liked her; they just didn’t know her. I’ve read her entire Wikipedia and listened to her essentials. I feel like I know a lot about Halsey, yet I know nothing at the same time and I also feel like I just wasted a lot of time researching and writing this.

To answer the second part of my original question… is any of this important? No. None of this is important. In fact, I will go as far as saying there are hundreds of things going on in the world that are more important.

So, did we learn anything today? Not really. Did we settle the debate? No, because it’s not a debate, it’s just me being difficult. I’m not gonna stop, though. I have to get to the bottom of this, once and for all…

Are we sure we like Halsey?

Maybe we’ll never know… and maybe that’s OK. Until next time…

“Art is not what I create. What I create is chaos.”- Halsey

I’m a big sports fan, thanks in part to my dad. He was an athlete (the best ever, in his words) and he passed that love down to me, along with all of his teams and superstitions. If you’re a sports fan, chances are you’re a little superstitious or — if you’re Michael Scott — you’re not superstitious, but you are a little stitious. I’m no exception to that.

Back in 2002, before the Fiesta Bowl between Ohio State and Miami, my mom thought it would be hilarious to give me a bottle of hot sauce with an Ohio State logo on it. I was a Hurricanes fan and I didn’t think it was a good joke. I told my dad about it when I saw him and he shook his head. Your mother just jinxed us. He told me about a story back in 1986. Game 6 of the World Series. They were watching it after a wedding and were late to a party. Who cares about the game? The Red Sox are going to win, she said confidently.

They didn’t. The ball went by Buckner… Boston fans have never, and will never, forgive my mother for that day. The same thing happened in the Fiesta bowl. Miami stops Ohio State in overtime to win back to back championships, however, the refs call a phantom pass interference as the final score was on the screen, resulting in Ohio State punching it in at the goal line. We ended up losing. The hot sauce was in the cabinet. My mother jinxed us. Miami still hasn’t recovered.

My dad’s from Wildwood, New Jersey and he is a die hard Philadelphia Phillies fan, so naturally, I grew up loving them and still do to this day. If you find me walking the streets of Los Angeles or abroad, you’ll notice that not only am I oddly compelling to look at, but I also rock a red Phillies hat. All. The. Time. I’ve often referred to it as my lucky hat. I think it embodies a lot of who I am and represents me well. Because the Phillies and I are a lot alike.

Much like the Phillies, I can be pretty frustrating to watch at times. There have been some good moments and a few bright spots over the past decade, but poor management and inconsistency have been the Achilles heel. Much like my beloved Phils, I haven’t lived up to the hype or the potential that’s on paper. It could be worse, though… I could be a Mets fan. So at least I have that to hang my hat on.

I know you’re all wondering what the hell I’m saying this for, but I promise there’s a point to all of this. I’m just not good at getting to it…

My first home will always and forever be Tampa. Say what you will about it — and Lord knows I have said plenty on the subject over the years — it’s a great place to grow up. There’s a lot to love about it, however, one thing about Tampa that I do hate is all of the rain during the summer. It’ll be sunny one minute, a torrential down pour the next, and fine twenty minutes later. Florida is a weird state.

For a brief period of time, France was my second home. I spent five months in Cannes during my senior year at University of Tampa and it was the greatest experience of my life. That was a moment in time I will never forget and wish I could have back everyday. Even though I didn’t learn that much — seriously, I still can’t speak a lick of French — I learned something that became apparent with every passing day: I had to get the hell out of Tampa.

Anyway, when I came back from Cannes, I moved into this place called Palma Vista. It was a few minutes away from UT and right in the middle of SoHo, next to all of the bars on Howard Ave. Across the street was The Patio, which became the watering hole for my friends and I. There were some good times in that apartment. I had a nice TV, a big black couch and a lot of space, all for $800 a month. Man, do I miss that rent…

I thought graduating college was going to solve all of my problems. Jobs were going to start pouring in and I was going to further my career in Florida before ultimately moving to LA. That first post-grad year was one of the most difficult years of my twenties. I felt stuck, like I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything meaningful. I needed a miracle. An act of God.

Instead of moving out of Palma Vista, I figured why not stay? It wasn’t as if I were going anywhere. At that point, LA seemed like it wasn’t going to happen, even though I had considered graduate school out there. Still, how the hell was that going to happen? Especially when I just renewed my lease on a place I actually liked. If grad school became an option, how was I going to get out of this place?

Enter the Great Flood of 2015: The day rains washed away all of my problems, as well as all of my stuff.

For those of you familiar with the story of Noah, you know that God made it rain for forty days and forty nights, flooding the world and ridding it of all it’s sins — except for all of the shenanigans on the ark itself. (Think about that for second — forty days on that boat with all of those animals? Someone did something crazy, I just know it.) That’s what it was like in July of 2016. Every day it rained and occasionally it would flood in certain parts of South Tampa. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially if you’ve lived through a hurricane before.

July 31st, 2015… I had a few (several) drinks at Patio and came back to Palma Vista. My neighbor was having a drink in her place so I went over for a chit chat. I was showing off my new red Phillies hat that my friend Chambers gave to me, the same red hat that I just introduced. It was already dubbed the “lucky hat” despite being in my possession for barely an hour.

Maybe we’ll both get lucky and not have to pay rent tomorrow, we said. Crazier things have happened, right?

August 1st, 2015. I wake up to the sound of thunder crashing on my window. After I caught my breath, I turned on the TV and put the news on. Severe weather warnings all throughout Hillsborough county. This isn’t news, Bay News 9. It rains everyday, tell me something I don’t know!

I go to have my morning smoke and when I open my door, the flood tried to come inside. Nope. Not today flood. Finding humor in this, I take out my phone and decided to taunt the flood on Snapchat (RIP Snapchat, you will be missed). LOL! I’m trapped inside my apartment! #TheGreatFloodofTampa.

Rule number one: don’t get cocky.

There was this football game back in 2002 that I’d like to go back to. Kentucky vs LSU. UK looked like they were going to seal the game, and the team started to celebrate on the sideline. They even gave their coach a Gatorade bath, which is the universal signal for this game’s over, y’all. Except the game wasn’t over. There was still time on the clock and LSU had one last chance to pull of a miracle. A Hail Mary to the end zone. The ball is tipped and somehow lands in the hands of an LSU receiver. Game over. The UK coach is standing there on the sidelines, shirt soaked in Gatorade, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Keep that in mind.

After trash talking the storm, I decided to go take my morning poo like an adult. (Don’t judge me, it’s part of my routine. Coffee, cigarette, poop and shower. This is normal if you ask me.) I look in the bathtub and see brown water coming from the drain. Why it was brown? I don’t know. I didn’t have time to think about it because I apparently left my sink running in the kitchen. The only problem: I never turned on the sink.

As I walk into the living room, my carpet started to come up like some sort of waterbed bouncy house. The running water I heard wasn’t from the sink, either; it was coming from the front door. And it was coming in fast. I turned to the only thing that I trusted in a time like this: television.

Bay News 9: In the event of a flood, sandbags are the only thing that can prevent water from coming in, so make sure you load up on them.

Well, that’s not gonna work during the flood. You know what else doesn’t work? Rolls of paper towels, because that was all I could think of in that moment. My survival skills are impeccable.

Bay News 9: Be sure to unplug all appliances and turn your breaker off to prevent electrocution and fires.

Now here’s some advice I could use! The sad part is, I didn’t think of that in the first place. There’s so much I don’t know about the world, and I thank the TV for pointing that out. However, I can’t turn it off until I get the rest of my advice.

Bay News 9: Most importantly, try your best to stay dry. It’s gonna be wet out there.

Go f&%$ yourself, Bay News 9. (Just kidding, Bay News 9 is the best. It’s not just the news, it’s your news… all the time.)

After unplugging everything in my apartment and putting things on my couch, it became clear that the water was not going to stop. I really needed a cigarette. I didn’t want to open the door because I didn’t want to let anymore water in (sound logic) so I decided to light one up in the apartment, which I wasn’t allowed to do. It was a watershed moment for me (pun very much intended). This was doomsday.

I opened up my windows to let the smoke out and noticed all of the things floating around in the courtyard. Bicycles, children toys, trash cans… you name it. If it was outside, it was either on the water or underneath it. We didn’t have a pool when I moved in a year before, but that day we had a lake. I had never seen anything like it. I had to see more of it.

I decided the best exit was through the window by the front door, because I always have to make things difficult for myself. At this point, the water in my apartment was above my ankles. Had I opened the door, it would’ve just made it worse. I was sure it was going to stop at some point. I decided to keep documenting it on Snapchat (RIP) and it ended up becoming like a Heart of Darkness style film, where my sanity slowly began to fade away.

I crawled out of my last window of hope, into the waist deep water. I’ve seen footage of floods and storms on the news, but until you’re wading through the courtyard of your apartment complex and you’re not sure what’s underneath you, you can’t prepare for what happens next. And this was pretty bad, but this wasn’t some Katrina-level flood. I can only imagine what that must have been like.

The front of the apartment wasn’t any better. Car alarms were going off because the cars were floating in the parking lot. People trying to drive through the water, then finding themselves stuck, with nowhere to go. You see, my street had a bowl shape to it. To the naked eye, it looked like a straight shot but the truth is the street had a slight slope to it. My apartment complex sat at the base of this slope. You think you can get through, but you can’t. Yet people still tried.

The first car I helped out of the street was a Subaru. The driver yelled at me from his car and asked if I could help push it to the dry part of the street. True story, there was a parking lot across the street that was above the slope and dry. It was maybe 1000 feet from my apartment complex. To keep myself busy, I sat on my car with a six pack of Coors and waited for the next person to drive down the street.

I pushed a dozen or so cars to that parking lot. I will say, the people I helped were entertaining. Yes, it was a bad day. Yes, I felt bad for everyone… but I needed a pick me up. As I crushed my Coors, I started to feel like I was surviving the apocalypse. I had a little more confidence in myself. A new swag, if you will. Like Kurt Russell in Escape from New York, minus the eyepatch and rugged good looks.

After a while, I had to go back into the apartment. The water was past my knees. It was like my apartment turned into a kiddie pool of sorts. At one point I remember taking a coaster and skipping it across my living room. I laughed, but I’m pretty sure it was a crazy laugh. The kinda laugh you have right before you go insane. That’s when I knew I had to get out.

I took two suitcases and packed what I could. Most of my stuff was a lost cause, but my clothes were fine, as were some boxes that I had stuffed at the top of my closet. I could leave that there. Those two suitcases were all I could take. That, and a lucky red hat that sat on the kitchen counter. I put the dry hat on my wet head and headed out.

So there I was wading through waist deep water with two suitcases on my shoulders. I stopped at Patio, which was dry and not flooded. As I waited for my mom to pick me up, I sat with my stuff and another Coors Light. What the hell just happened? It had been hours, yet that was the first time I had time to think about it. It was the longest day of my life, and it wasn’t even close to being over… because as they say, when it rains, it pours. The worst part of a flood isn’t the flood itself; it’s what happens after.

The thunder woke me up again. I heard it in my old room at my mom’s house. I woke up the exact same way, only this time my mom was in the doorway. Shea, I’m so sorry… I bolted up from the bed and grabbed her car keys. I had no shirt, no shoes, but I had a really big problem: the street was flooded. Rather than drive through it, I parked. As I ran to my apartment, I feared the worst. Sure enough, there it was… the apartment had flooded again. Twice in three days. I drove back to my mom’s, not sure of what to expect next.

I’m not saying I had PTSD, but for a couple weeks I couldn’t sleep or think about anything other than what happened that day. I tried to drink it away, to think about something else other than that. All of my stuff was ruined. Every time it rained, I thought my apartment would be underwater. We had planned a trip to Utah that was the same week as the flood, so I tried to put my focus in that.

A week away from home was a good thing, too. First of all, it was dry. That was nice. Secondly, I could get my shit together for a few days. The landlords called me back and told me the situation. They were gonna fix everything and even asked me if I wanted to switch to hard-wood flooring. I was pretty pleased with that. Except when I came back, they did nothing. It looked exactly the same.

After a few weeks, all of the furniture was ruined and mold was growing throughout the apartment. Before they fixed our apartments, they wanted us to pay. We were furious and even almost filed a lawsuit. It was bullshit. That didn’t seem to matter to our landlords, who were confused as to why we didn’t pay. I don’t know… maybe it was the fact that we were all trying to escape from Atlantis on the first of the month. It wasn’t like we planned to lose all of our shit in the process.

I bounced around from place to place for a few weeks until I moved in with my grandparents. I didn’t know what to do. I eventually gave up on the apartment and tried to come up with a new plan, but I couldn’t. My mind was elsewhere. It was a sign of sorts… maybe I wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. Maybe it was time to close the book on Tampa. Maybe I might have overstayed my welcome, so to speak.

It sucked though… I loved that apartment. I loved that neighborhood. Even though I wasn’t happy with the way my life was going, I was happy there. I had a nice thing and guess what? I couldn’t keep it.

The flood washed away all of my problems. I was free to go. Without the apartment, I didn’t have to pay rent. All the nice things I had? Who cares! You know what’s better than that? Renter’s insurance. My car was submerged in water, the engine flushed out. Guess what? You get a new car from Geico. Problem solved!

I may have lost all my nice things, but I had found a new nice thing: I had a way out. A clean slate. Much like the Phillies, all I had to do to get back on track was trim the fat around the organization. A fire sale, if you will. Addition by subtraction. It was then that I realized I had to move. I applied for grad school, got accepted and never looked back.

I live in Hollywood now, in an apartment with hardwood floors and four stories above the ground. No more floods! I finally made it to a place that I feel comfortable enough to call home, for now at least. I’ve been in this particular apartment for two years and I have no plans to leave. For the first time in a long time, I’m committing to something.

I still have my lucky red hat. It survived the flood with me, and it’s a constant reminder of that day and the things I left behind. It’s one of the few nice things I’m allowed to have (even though the Phillies break my heart every year). One could argue that it’s not a lucky hat, that I essentially traded an apartment for it. I don’t think of it like that. Maybe this hat was the catalyst for the biggest leap of faith I’ve ever taken.

I’ve made some dumb decisions in my life, but moving to LA was not one of them. It was destined to happen, what I always wanted to happen… I just lost sight of that. I needed an act of God to open my eyes, and now three years removed from that day, it’s made me see things a lot differently. To be happy with what you have and thankful that you’re allowed to have it, because you’re not guaranteed to keep it.

When people ask me where I’m from, I say Tampa, Florida and I say it proudly. I’m forever grateful and thankful for all of the things that Tampa has taught me. It shaped me into the person that I am today and it follows me everywhere I go. It was at times challenging, riveting, frustrating, thrilling, depressing, but most importantly… it was home. It always will be.

I miss it everyday, and while I wish things were different, it’s like I always say: Sometimes, if you really love something, you have to let it go because you’ll never know how much love something until it’s gone. Or, in my case, it gets washed away.

Tampa, I will always love you and I will never forget you. Even though you rained on my parade more than once, you will always have a special place in my heart. I hope you feel the same way about me.

Until next time…

SF

“Someone told me long ago, there’s a calm before the storm. I know. It’s been coming for some time.” Credence Clearwater Revival

*Clears throat, taps mic* What we gon’ do right here is go back… WAAAAY back… back into time…

I was listening to an interview on the Bill Simmons Podcast a while back that made me think about something (which by the way, if you do listen to podcasts, his is THE BEST. Seriously, go check it out). Jonah HIll was on to promote his movie Mid 90s (haven’t seen it, but heard great things) and he started talking about this book he’s writing that interviews celebrities and asks them to describe the “snapshot of their life”.

Imagine you could take a picture of a moment in time that best describes who you are at your core. Your essence, if you will. It could be from any time in your life, at any age. What does that picture say about you then and what does it say about you now? Will it change or will you always be that person deep down?

He talked about his own snapshot and got candid about his own insecurities. We all were introduced him when he was the “funny fat guy’ and that’s kind of been everyone’s snapshot of him, unfortunately. When he loses weight, everyone is quick to point it out or question whether or not he can be funny if he’s not fat, which is an incredibly dumb question to ask. Like, say a guy with cancer is killing it on the comedy scene and his cancer just goes away; is he no longer funny because we’re looking at the snapshot of him with cancer and use that to define him?

I can relate to that in a way. Given my appearance, it’s easy for me to be defined by that. Crouzon’s is not something I’ve ever had any control over, especially when walking into a room filled with people who don’t know me. I’ve jokingly referred to myself as “The Kid with the Face” or “Mr. Funny Face”. It’s low hanging fruit, I get it. Just like the “funny fat friend” stereotype or the “old sassy black lady” or “flamboyantly gay hairdresser” or the “dumb redneck” or whatever, I don’t know. I’m gonna stop making up stereotypes before this gets out of hand. It’s not who I am… and that’s kind of the point of this.

I’m not just the kid with the face; I’m a lot more than that. Despite my devilishly charming demeanor, I can be a little shy at times. I can be a little nervous and anxious when talking about my feelings, which is why I write. But I also like to tell jokes and I don’t take myself that seriously at times, which has actually kind of been a problem in certain situations. I’m stubborn yet open-minded. I am willing to forgive but I never forget. I’m an introverted extrovert, in that I like to be out and about with people but most of the time I just wanna sit at the bar and live vicariously through everyone else.

To put it simply, I’m a walking contradiction. We all are. They say a picture has a thousand words, and your snapshot is no different. There are thousands of little things hiding in plain sight that you may not have noticed. You just gotta look at it with a different lens… and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do, with my snapshot as the example.

(A Shea Freeman lens, because — and this is a true story — a guy once told me that I “could probably see the whole world with eyes like that”. It’s honestly the most eloquent put down I’ve ever heard and I wasn’t even mad. If everyone could insult me like that from now on, that would be great.)

To break down my snap shot, I thought of a few recurring themes in my life. Because this blog is called This Is Why I Can’t Have Nice Things, we’re going to start with that. You could pull a Crouzon’s snap from there. You could pull a snap of me acting up in school. You could use my mugshot if you want, that’s a snapshot. You could put whatever you want that’s negative there, but I don’t think my snapshot is negative. After all, a good picture isn’t in the negative, it’s what comes from the negative after it changes.

I am, for what it’s worth, a pretty happy and cheerful guy. I find ways to make everything enjoyable and I laugh at everything I see because I’m a crazy person. I’m pretty positive and upbeat and I don’t try to let things get to me too often. Hell, even as a kid, my mom would say I was the happiest baby. I looked like a Muppet Baby. Like a Baby Kermit, but as a baby human. With a lumpy head and big eyes, like Tommy Pickles. But I was happy. So we’re gonna start there, back to the days of my childhood.

My happiest days were probably also the most important ones, I’d say from ages ten to fifteen. The formative years. Looking back on it, those were the last days that I was truly innocent. It was also the time where I was changing constantly. Whether it was puberty or it was the surgeries, I began to take shape as a person then. At least that’s what I think.

When I say take shape, I mean that both literally and figuratively. Figuratively speaking, I made mistakes and learned from the majority of them. Literally speaking, they actually cut my head open and moved my skull around. My face has definitely taken some interesting shapes, and that’s when a lot of it really took place. But as I said earlier, I’m more than just a pretty face. And my pretty face came second to one thing back then: getting buckets.

Those were the years I was really active in basketball. It was the in the fourth grade when I first played at Bayshore, in the spring league. I remember trying out for the middle school team and missed the cut, but I asked to be the water boy for the varsity team. Then the next year I hit my growth spurt and made the team. I would wear basketball shorts under my school uniform because you never knew when you were gonna have to lace up and get some run.

Basketball was my life back then, and I honestly thought I was going to be an NBA player. Like, that was the goal. Me. In the NBA. I was so adamant about it. There was no back up plan. I was going to be 6’5 (HA!) and transform into a solid 3-and-D type wing player. It’s hilarious to think about now because I’m 5’9 (5’10 on a good day, which is never) and I have bad knees, one that I hurt falling off a sidewalk when I was sixteen. I also would have been in the same draft class as Steph Curry, Blake Griffin and James Harden. Or Anthony Davis. Young Shea was super confident, you guys. I miss him.

Sadly, the basketball thing is not really my snapshot, even though it’s probably the one thing I love more than anything that’s not my family or my dog. It’s one of five things that have ever made me cry, which is the dumbest thing I’ve said all day (I’m gonna top it, just wait). When I stopped playing, I was fortunate enough to have a girlfriend to keep myself occupied. It was an easy transition, you know? Which brings me to my next point: The girls.

Oh man… the girls… So. Many. Girls.

Now, how is a girl my snap shot? It’s not. But I’ve always said my biggest weakness is a pretty girl. Seriously, a pretty girl will be the death of me. For example, say the zombie apocalypse happens and I manage to survive for a little while. I’m walking around, checking out the wreckage or whatever, and a beautiful zombie woman is headed my way. Part of me — and you know which part I mean (my heart guys, grow up) — would be like wait, maybe there’s a chance. But there is no chance, because she doesn’t want my heart, she wants my brains (to eat them, I’m not obviously not that smart if I’m trying to holler at a dead person.) And that’s how I will die.

This is a major recurring theme for me. Ever since I can remember, I have been a romantic at heart. In fact, rom coms are my favorite guilty pleasure. I got into it at a young age, too. The earliest I can remember was at Hyde Park Day School in Tampa. I was maybe five or six at the time. There was this girl there — let’s call her Abby — and she was my first “girlfriend”. We “dated” for an entire week and I was in love. I gave her a picture of me as a gift, because nothing says “future narcissist” like a five year old giving out a headshot, but hey… I didn’t choose this life; it chose me.

My mom warned me not to get too ahead of myself, but what does she know? She’s been married three times, I said (just now, not back then). Sure enough, mama was right. After four of days of love, the girl said that she wanted to break up. Little Shea was devastated. It was the first time he had had his heartbroken, although it wouldn’t last very long. Because Little Shea was going to have a crush on every girl he could lay his eyes on from here on. He became a love junkie.

You see, another recurring theme in my life is probably that I don’t really learn from my past mistakes. Little things I do, like forget my rights and lefts (you’d be surprised how frequently this happens), or big things like forget to pay my cable bill because I don’t have it on AutoPay. I’m also a huge procrastinator. I’m the guy that arrives late at his college graduation because he was in the bathroom and left his phone on the toilet. I’m not a dumb person, I just do dumb things sometimes. And then there are times I don’t do anything about something, knowing full well I should. This is going to be factored in to my snapshot.

As I said before, I’m a romantic. A hopeless romantic, because all I have is hope and not much else. I crushed on so many girls growing up, especially in that 10-15 year range. I was constantly trying to figure out how they worked, like mentally. I’m still trying to figure it out and I don’t think I ever will. But oh buddy, did I try… from the “do you like me” note slips in elementary school, to the awkward face to face interactions I had in middle school (you know who you are, and this is all your fault! JK LOL, you’re the best)…. I stepped up to the plate and even though most of the time I struck out, at least I tried. It wasn’t always like that though.

We used to go to United Skates of America back when we were kids. Summer camp, birthdays, school functions… I’d find myself there maybe a half dozen times a year, and each time it was the same. They’d do the limbo, the red light/green light game, the hokey pokey, all of that. And they had that ridiculous dinosaur mascot that would come out, named Skate-O — you know, of the Skate-O-Saurus family — and all of these bad ass little kids would just pound on this poor person (mad respect for Skate-O, wherever he or she may be). Then it would turn into laser skate or couples skate, and they’d always play the same song for couples skate. It was either O-Town or that “I never had a dream come true” song.

(Side note: I would wear jeans while I skated during the summer, like long jeans, and it would be so hot. You see, I hated knee pads and elbow pads. I looked like a crash test dummy. You can’t look cool and look safe at the same time, at least that’s what my young self thought, so I would just wear long sleeved clothing in case I fell down, thinking that would soften the blow. It didn’t. This is why I can’t have nice things.)

You’re probably like, damn Shea, how do you remember all of this? Well folks, this is my snapshot. This, I believe, is the moment that defines who I am at my core.

When I was in the fifth grade, I had big crush on this girl — we’ll call her Juliet. Juliet was the prettiest girl in our class and I’d go as far as saying that if I could have a snapshot of the prettiest girl I ever knew, it would probably be her. I wasn’t the only guy that felt that way, though. We’re all like 11 or 12 at this point, so girls are becoming a real thing for everyone now. Naturally, I was always trying to figure out a way to put myself at the top of her list.

Finding a way to stick out is really easy when you have the young face of an old Steve Buscemi, but I had a little mini-snapshot of me at the time: I was the class clown. I would crack jokes or do some crazy shit to impress the girls. I listened to the boy bands because that’s what they listened to. I one time did this cheerleading thing at my school because I could be around the girls. I did a lot of research and it didn’t always pay off, but I was friends with all the girls. I was “in”, as they say (do they say that?).

(Side note: it’s kinda funny to think about it now because, like, what was I gonna do at 12 years old? The most is maybe a kiss and hand holding. I’m actually glad I had my first kiss when I did because I was definitely not ready in 5th grade.)

At the end of every school year, the whole school would go to United Skates for an end of the year party. It was the last chance to see some friends before summer vacation, and for me it was a last chance to see people before my surgeries. I always looked forward to it. I think we all did, really. Because there was one thing waiting for us at the end of the day: the couples skate.

The couples skate, for those that aren’t aware, is the single most important 3-4 minutes of your young life. Two kids, at the beginning of their most important years, holding hands and gliding down the glossy wooden rink, feeling invincible as time seemingly stops forever. Hearts beating fast, palms sweating, butterflies flying around in your stomach each time you make a turn. That moment when you realize you “like-like” someone. A chance to spend a moment with your crush…

I wouldn’t know about all of that though because, unfortunately, I never participated in the couple’s skate.

I thought about the end of the year skating party all throughout fifth grade. That was gonna be the day that I asked Juliet to be my girlfriend (HA!). After all, we were going into middle school. Gotta start sixth grade out with a cute girl, right? You know, along with the other essential items like a backpack, school supplies and a box of tissues. I thought this was solid logic.

As the months went by, there were other guys that came into the mix. We’ll call this one guy Dude and another one Bro. They’re good dudes and bros, I’m not gonna lie. But they were also in the mix, and they also wanted to skate with Juliet.

When the day finally came, I was ready. I had practiced all night the night before on how I was going to approach it. I knew exactly when they were going to play the song, because they usually ease into it towards the end of the day. Plus it was always at 2:30. So that was easy. I made sure to keep an eye on her all day, but not be overly pushy with my presence. Just kinda casually skate on by, like what’s up? How’s it going? Smooth as Shea butter.

Except I’m not that smooth, you guys. By 2:00, I had noticed that Dude and Bro were with Juliet and another girl — we’ll call her Pam. Pam was a backup, honestly, even though a 12 year old shouldn’t have a back up. (While we’re at it, grown-ups shouldn’t have back ups either.) It kinda looked like they were going to couple skate. Rather than skate on over and try to throw myself into the discussion, I sat by the wall and watched as 2:30 rolled around.

It’s time for the couples skate, and I’m standing by myself on the other side of the rink, watching as Dude and Juliet skate with each other. I had felt so many different things in that moment. I felt happy and sad in a matter of seconds. Love and pain. But the worst feeling was not doing anything about it when I had the chance. That 12 year old boy with the red shirt and black rollerblades, watching “the girl of his dreams” with someone else while O-Town plays in the background. That’s my snapshot.

I know that sounds depressing, but it says a lot about who I am. Because it’s not just about who I was back then, but how it translates to my life right now. After Juliet, I moved on pretty quick. There were many other girls that came and went since that couples skate. I told myself I was at least going to give myself a chance the next time around. Like the old saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. So shoot it.

Lately, I haven’t taken that advice. Over the years, I’ve made some mistakes and I’ve gambled on some choices in life. I’m not saying my life is going downhill. It’s not. If anything, I’m stuck on the hill in a car that won’t start, and that’s on me. Because I procrastinate, I hesitate and I hold out in hope that one day it’ll miraculously change. It doesn’t work like that, though.

There are actions and reactions, and there are consequences. Everything you do is like a little piece of the puzzle in the grand scheme of things. And there are things I’d like to take back, for sure. Things I’d do differently.

I would have done high school differently, specifically how I left high school. I would’ve gone to college sooner. I would’ve wrote more or filmed more, and maybe I wouldn’t have needed college. I would’ve not gotten behind the wheel of that car after a few drinks. I wouldn’t have given some “job recruiter” my social security number (because that was a terrible idea). And I would’ve asked Juliet to skate with me.

You can’t go back, though. You can only learn from your mistakes and move forward. So here we are… did I learn from my mistakes? Not really. Because right now, more than ever, I can relate to that 12 year old kid in the skating rink. Opportunities that I never took because I was too afraid to do it, of what would happen if I did. Afraid of the rejection, and the hurt it would bring. I’m a guy that wants to be loved, that wants to be included. I’m a hopeless romantic.

I’m not ashamed of that. That little boy is who I am, and knowing that makes me feel better about myself. I know who I am. I’m still a kid at heart. I’m still a class clown. I’m still the lovesick puppy that’s waiting to find a home to call his own. Hell, I even look like Droopy Dog, just with a better voice. I’m still compassionate and at times sensitive. I have a lot of love to give and even though I don’t say it a lot, I am happy with my life. (I still wear jeans, too. I will always wear jeans.)

I’m all of these things, and I’m fine with that. Because at the end of the day, I am who I am and I’m not changing that any time soon. That picture will last forever, framed and hanging on the walls of my heart.

Until Next Time…

SF

“If music be the food of love, play on,

Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.”

― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

How’s it going, world? If you’re reading this, you probably already know who I am, but just in case you don’t, allow me to introduce myself… 

My name is Shea Freeman. At the time of this writing, I’m 29 and living in Hollywood, California but my home will always be in Tampa, Florida (Go Bucs!). I’m a (struggling) writer/producer who’s never actually produced anything but likes saying it to people at bars. I’m the owner of a 2013 Kia Optima, I have eight documentaries queued up on my Netflix (that I’m never going to watch), and I’m bilingual, in that I speak both English and the language of Love — so basically what I’m saying is I’m a catch.  

(Ladies? No? Fine, moving on…)

I’m your typical everyday millennial, but with one glaring exception: for some reason, and I don’t know why this is… I can’t have nice things. 

Now, once the world’s longest collective eye roll finishes, let me clarify: I’m not saying I can’t ever have nice things, I’m just saying that every time I have something nice, I can’t keep it, or I just plain can’t have it at all. I’m not sure if it’s karma or if it’s just me (it’s probably just me), but there’s this weird balance in my life where if something good happens, something bad also has to happen. 

You know the saying “you can’t have your cake and eat it, too”? Well, imagine you had a piece of cake and right before you went to eat it, a bird took a shit on it. You can still eat the cake, but do you really want to at this point? One of many pressing questions this blog will ask and hopefully be able to solve.

First, let’s define what I mean by “nice things”…

Nice things are, from my point of view, things that I can’t have. Specifically, things that everyone else seems to have that I don’t. Jobs, relationships, a symmetrical face, etc. Things that may not mean anything to some but mean something to me. Things that seem to come naturally to others that don’t necessarily happen in my case. Things that… wait for it… I can’t have. You get the picture? Cool! 

I’m just talking about me, though. You guys can have nice things. Or maybe you can’t, I don’t know. However, for the purposes of this blog, these are only about the nice things that I can’t have. I’m not in the comparing and contrasting business. I’m not in any business at the moment, actually. I’m writing a blog about my thoughts, which is essentially the same as going onto my roof and yelling my thoughts at the people on the sidewalk. 

(Fun fact, I’m actually on the roof right now. I shouldn’t be, but then again, if my landlord’s reading this… thanks for the support man! Also, sorry for being up here, but in my defense I’m not up here *as* you read this. Maybe I’m in a nicer apartment, maybe I’m in a house. Or maybe I’m still in 402, who knows…)

Anyway, where was I? I do this from time to time, getting off topic and going on a tangent and what not. But hey, if that’s what you’re into then you came to the right place. If you have a sense of humor, love pop culture and sports references, and are looking for the occasional word of wisdom, this is the place to be. If you know me, you know I like to talk. This is just the written version of it. And boy do I have a lot to say! 

I always say that I write about what I know, and I have to make this very clear before we go any further, there are things I may say that might remind you of someone you know, maybe even yourself. With the exception of myself, the names and places will be changed to make sure everyone remains anonymous. I’m going to apologize now if I make anyone uncomfortable at any point, but hey, at least you get to be part of the story! That’s good, right? Let’s hope so. 

So I’m asking y’all to come along with me on this journey of self-discovery. Let me tell you some stories, some that’ll make you think, and some that may leave scratching your head, like what the hell is this guy talking about? You might laugh, you might cry, you might want to throw your phone against the wall in frustration. But at the end of the day we’re all gonna learn something and be better off for it. And who knows, maybe it’ll be a nice thing that I can have for once! 

Until next time… 

SF

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton