Beauty in The Beast

I love to see people in pain... one might even go as far as saying that it makes me happy.

The beauty of Crossfit is that both an athlete's body AND mind are pushed to the brink every single workout... more often than not pushing individuals past the limits they were once held back by. Today begins the start of The Open, a 5 week long competition to narrow down those individuals and teams that will qualify for Regionals. The workouts will be exceptionally brutal and in no way will any of them even be slightly enjoyable. Some people may cry, everyone will hurt and all participants will come out of it better athletes.

On all fours, on your back, curled in a ball... nothing will be comfortable

Many people will argue that such a sport is dangerous but instead of letting my disdain towards such keyboard warriors known, I will keep my opinion on their beliefs to myself. Because in the end, for every expert opinion endorsing something you will find another expert opinion denouncing it. And just as there are plenty of shitty globo gyms and personal trainers there are plenty of crappy Crossfit gyms and Crossfit coaches. No matter what your athletic background, college degree, what you read in an article online or what you overheard that one really jacked guy at the gym say, in the end we are all entitled to our own opinions... and as much as you may want to lead a horse to water, perhaps that horse prefers orange juice. So I will refrain from throwing any slander towards "Crossfit haters" in this blog and instead just jot down my thoughts per usual.

I'm not sure why I love feeling pain so much... perhaps because I believe it is extremely beneficial to us... perhaps because I think it's going out of style. People want to be happy in life, that's a natural desire. We want our wishes to come true, we want our desires to become fulfilled with minimal sacrifice. We enjoy laughter, smiles and happy tears. And when we fall and scrape our leg, we cry until mommy comes and makes it all better. We're told that men do not shed tears. We train ourselves to bottle up our emotions, we go to the doctor at the slightest inclination of pain and accept that we should have sore backs by the time we're 50. We give out participation medals so nobody is sad from going home empty handed, we make professional football players apologize for "bullying" each other.

However, in the words of Henry Adams, "Chaos is the law of nature, order is the dream of man."

What's wrong with having scars? What's wrong with being moved to the point of tears? What's wrong with feeling pain? Cavemen didn't go to the doctor when they tweeked their knee or got cut by a Saber tooth tiger... they nutted up, played doctor on themselves and then found that tiger and punched it in the face. An ancient Roman gladiator would never ask his Doctore for a day off because his legs felt like jelly from the previous day's battles or because the emperor called him a useless shit and that hurt his feelings... he just strapped on his gear and stepped into the arena when his time came.

Every day is "leg day" when you do real work in the gym

We often times associate pain and sadness with weakness although I personally feel it is more so an opportunity to showcase your strength and personal resolve. When your lungs are burning and you still have 10 minutes to go, do you ease off the throttle or do you turn it up a notch? When you lose your job, do you think "poor me" or do you fight and scrap to keep your family above water? Society loves the underdog and we also love watching people push past their limits. Selling cookies might be a successful fundraiser when you're a cute little toddler but when you become an adult, putting yourself through hell is what sells.

Perhaps that is why Crossfit has gained such popularity... in a world where we try and soften the blows life will deal us, Crossfit keeps us honest. It's barbaric in nature... simple, challenging, threatening to our modern idea of life. No corners are allowed to be cut, no mommy and daddy to ease the pain, nobody to come and whisper in your ear "Every thing's okay now, the bad man is gone". Because the bad man is inside your head... it's you.

Crossfit brings forth the battle between your heart, mind and body which happens every workout and sets it forth center stage. There's no guarantee of happiness or success and the odds are often stacked against you. Society would understand if you fold under the pressure, if you throw in the white towel because it's too tough, too scary. But are you okay with that? Is the inner animal inside of you okay with that?

Will you let others tell you you're done or will you show them what strength really is?

We've been wired to operate differently, to stop before our bodies are ready to give out... to not let ourselves even come close to total failure. But safe is kind of boring, especially when science has proven that we quit when we realistically have more in the tank.

Perhaps it's time we stop referring to people as "beasts" when so many of us have all but lost our understanding of our animalistic nature. Perhaps it's time we take it upon ourselves to study said nature and learn how to draw it out of ourselves. Perhaps it's time we start letting ourselves feel scared, feel pain, and in turn, start feeling alive... because it's when we play with pain and stand in the face of death that we feel most alive, it's then that we see who we truly are.

Now don't get your panties in a bunch... in no way am I saying Crossfitters need to be stupid. There are times you should listen to your doctor and take time off, just as there are times you should seek a second opinion, just as there are times you should take a professional opinion and tell to shove it where the sun don't shine. I was once told I'd never pull 100 lbs. off the ground again, that my back would LIKELY wouldn't be able to handle the slightest jog. I currently deadlift almost 600 lbs. and have ran multiple marathons since that diagnosis... I don't say that to brag, I say that to elaborate on the fact that sometimes even experts don't know what they are dealing with. Sometimes, individuals choose to lead uncommon lives.

We can make excuses or we can defy the odds

Nobody will remember the athlete that takes it easy during The Open, the one who comes up with excuses for why he didn't do well or didn't perform a certain exercise like he should've. We'll remember the disabled athletes who were once told they'd never walk again squatting with prosthetic limbs, the athletes who grit their teeth and hit a PR at the end of a workout when they're already spent, the ones who collapse on the ground after they finally hear "TIME!" having completely red-lined their body going for one more rep, one more pound, one more opportunity for pain.

The Pain Train has arrived, climb aboard at your own risk.

Super Bowl Sherman

I'm still confused as to why so many are still throwing a hissy fit over Richard Sherman's post 49er's game interview... but the fact that the Super Bowl is right around the corner probably doesn't help to silence the critics and keyboard warriors. In my personal opinion, I think fans need to look at this incident from outside the box.

Richard Sherman is not a dumb man, in fact, he's quite smart.... Credible sources say his mother would feed and clothe gang members where Sherman grew up in order to get them off the streets and to deter Little Richey from that lifestyle. A former coach said gang members would tell Sherman to go home and study if he even approached them about joining out of respect for his mother.

He was an honor roll student in the top of his class and majored in Communications at Stanford. Now, I know plenty of jocks get through classes because their team needs them (you can fill in the blanks) but that's probably not so much the case at a school as prestigious as Stanford.

Immediately after seeing the interview, I was reminded of a famous scene in which a warrior aired his emotions in a very similar way...

The arena... blood spewed everywhere, mangled bodies rotting in the sun. The crowd wanted death and destruction, but what happens when a man takes it one step further? When he gives them EVERYTHING they ask for?

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!" cries Russell Crowe in the movie Gladiator.



Perhaps the things we want most in life are the things we are often not ready to accept
 

THAT is what we got during that post game interview... that entertainment we so constantly beg for, even though we never truly get it. Because we don't think the story of David vs. Goliath is cool because the little guy beats the big guy... we think it's bad ass because David chops Goliath's fucking head off.

With the advances in technology, fans can literally feel as though they are on the field. Mic'd players, half a bajillion cameras with zoom capabilities and HD quality... to be any closer you would literally have to be that guy with a forehead the size of Nebraska who had to choose the most worthless fucking city in that state to constantly shout (fuck the Huskers).

But we ourselves don't want to be that guy... we want his life but we don't want the concussions, the millions of fans cheering us on so they win their bets, the millions more screaming at us to fail. We just want a glimpse of what he goes through, to receive a full taste is something we could never stomach... though we couch potato coach as they we could.

So a better question is, why are we so shocked when we get a full blown sample of what we so desire? When we witness Sherman put Crabtree on blast... when we hear a coach like Paul Rhodes drop a plethora of f-bombs live on ESPN...

Why are we so shocked when a "reality" television star becomes an idol, let's fame and money get to their head, becomes an alcoholic, gets into drugs, goes bankrupt and eventually kills them self by suck-starting a pistol?

Are we no longer entertained when we witness just what we've created? Why are we so shocked when we nurture vicious animals and then are for some reason offended when they decide to turn and snap their ugly fangs at us?

For some reason, we have this crazy notion that violent sports are played by The Brady Bunch... fun loving athletes who joke around and at the end of their day, go home jolly and calm.

The interview staff knew exactly what could have happened, which is why it was exceptionally funny they were shocked it did. In the majority of violent sports, athletes will be rushed from their environment and given some time to wind down before being confronted. I'm sure had Tim "I swear I'm a virgin even though I went to THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA" Tebow hurdled the axe murderer Ray Lewis for a game winning touchdown, he probably would've threatened to skullfuck his unborn children mid post game interview... and then immediately went to confession/into the Witness Protection Program.

He didn't tap that... even once? Whatever you say, Timmy.
 

We are so mentally distraught and emotionally high after testosterone laden events and sporting matches that we have to have time to come back down to Earth, just as an astronaut's body needs time to re-acclimate to its new surroundings.

I remember back when I still trained mixed martial arts... my second fight was against a guy who talked more shit than Muhammed Ali and Chael Sonnen combined. I knocked him out with a haymaker a minute into the fight. I literally don't know what I said to the MC afterwards, because all I could see was red like a bull an all I wanted to do was shove the microphone up my opponent's ass... the wide way.

But after letting myself rest for 10 minutes, I finally calmed down. I finally felt all the aches, pains and bruises... I could finally think straight.

I don't necessarily approve or disapprove of what Sherman said, although I completely realize why he reacted that way. A wise man once told me, "Conversation should be like a mini skirt... long enough to cover the essentials but short enough to keep some one's attention." Had it been me, a simple "Better luck next year, Crabbypatty" followed by a wink to the camera would have burned a little more. Sherman got his point across, whether America was ready to hear the unfiltered version of it or not.



STAAAAHHHHHPPPPPP!
 



Maybe someday we won't be surprised when Pavlov's dog gets tired of salivating, breaks free and decides to go latch onto some one's neck...

My Second Home

I do this for the free fireworks... for the explosion of thoughts and emotions that comes with every visit.

To feel my lungs burning as if a match was tossed down a kerosene filled well, my legs and arms on fire as if a blanket of lactic acid had enveloped me whole. Because I live for that moment that comes every single time when you find yourself blankly staring off into the middle of nowhere, questioning why you're even there.

Your grip is shot, your stomach churning, prepared to release bile if you just give the thumbs up. Time and the weights may be the only thing working harder against you than your own body. Perhaps you want to cry or just lay down and give up. Nobody could stop you if you did, they're not your mother... you do this voluntarily. You've already sweat a bit and are sore, end early, short your reps and go home to relax. Grab a beer, maybe some pizza and reward yourself for the hard work you just put in. Or don't...

Maybe you pick up the bar again, maybe you grit your teeth and shut off the demons in your head telling you that you aren't good enough and never will be. Maybe you start to realize that through pain of various kinds, we learn various ways to better ourselves. Maybe you start to realize that your limits are far beyond what you think you are capable of... maybe you can do considerably more.

You look up and see a 60 year old man who comes here everyday because he wants to do everything he can to extend his life so he can watch his grandchildren grow. You see a single mom who has such a busy schedule that she has to cut her sleep a couple of hours short each night so that she can workout at 5:30 in the morning, lest she not be able to workout at all.

You see the girl who was told she'd never be able to physically accomplish something because of an injury proving her doubters wrong every single day. You see your coaches busting their ass right along side you, going through the same pain and pushing you the entire way.

The community drives you to keep going and you realize when so many are for you, nobody can be against you. There may be people who try to stand in your way, who doubt your goals or belittle your accomplishments, but then you remember all those people who do believe.

You do it because seeing those who support you accomplish their goals make YOU a better person. Seeing a soccer mom do a happy dance because she dead lifted hundreds of pounds which she never in a million years would have thought she could do. Seeing how much pride someone takes in a photo comparison to 3 months ago when they decided to change their diet and exercise routine in order to become a healthier, happier individual.

All of a sudden, your accomplishments don't mean so much... but knowing you could be apart of someone else's journey begins to mean the world to you. Then you see how proud people are of you, and how much pride they take in YOUR accomplishments, and you realize you owe it to them to do your best every single moment in life. Your parents, your kids, your husbands, wives and significant others. Hell, even people half a world a way that have never even met you. All those who sacrificed for you along the way, who saw you as a source of inspiration at some point in their lives... those are the ones you owe it all to.

They are why you treat your body right, nourishing it with quality food, sleep and hydration. They are why you show up every day and bust your ass. Because they have given up so much in order to help you become to the best individual you could be. Because no matter how hard you work in the gym, THEY are the ones who have put in the hardest work. They're why you compete each and every day. Not always for money, trophies and fame... but for gratitude. To show them that you are thankful for the trust, to show them you appreciate everything they've done for you.

I go because my mother and sister mean the world to me and making them happy is my main focus in life. I go because I know where I started is not where I have to end up in life. I go because I want people to hear my name and not just think, but truly feel I am a good man. I go because I want to spend myself every day... mentally, emotionally and physically. I go because no matter when my time here on Earth is through and my life flashes before my eyes, I refuse to have any regrets.

Family

Embracing Opportunity

I was never lucky enough to meet any of my grandparents but from the stories I've heard, they were some hard-nosed motherfuckers. They were part of "The Greatest Generation", folks who answered the call to serve Uncle Sam when he was in a time of need... folks who made sacrifices on the home front until everyone made it back. They spent time on the front lines, bought war bonds back home and participated in civilian peace time rationing of goods. They didn't ask, "Why us?" and they didn't complain... they just got the job done. They weren't born with the excessive whining/I deserve everything I want in life gene that my generation has seemed to develop.

I was lucky enough, however, to meet my Grand Uncle Charles McGee. He, along with my Grandmother Ruth Downs, grew up poor but aspired to greatness. He stayed focused in high school, went to college for engineering before leaving to enlist in the Army Air Corps his sophomore year and soon became a fighter pilot once the war broke out. He's one of the last surviving Tuskegee Airmen and flew 409 combat missions while fighting in World War II, Korea AND Vietnam... a still standing Air Force record.



My beautiful grandmother, Ruth Downs

The most awesome thing about my "Uncle" Charles, however, is that he's a black man. He answered the call to serve his country even though, according to a study by the Army War College in 1925, blacks, "... are mentally inferior by nature, subservient, cowardly... and therefore unfit for combat." It was thought that blacks would be good for nothing more than kitchen work and cleaning duties. Even after passing the Tuskegee flight program, they were initially given nothing more than routine reconnaissance missions with zero real danger. Yet he stayed focused and didn't let racism deter him. Eventually, in a time where blacks would be hung just for sitting in a white only section, he was destroying the enemy and receiving salutes from the men who wanted him dead simply because his skin was slightly more dark. He used the hate as fuel for his fire and eventually became one of the greatest fighter pilots in the history of the Air Force. Which is why the thing I love most about my 95 year old "Uncle Charles", as weird as it is to say, is that if you were to talk to him on the phone, you'd assume he was white.

Pride

My ancestors were first brought to this country on slave ships... sold at markets like prized cattle. They worked hard labor day in and day out, being disciplined with lashes to the back if they didn't "perform" well enough. They were told they were nothing but wild animals, useless for anything but being farm hands. They were a prime example that you can break a man physically, but you cannot break his mind.

Viktor Frankl spent time as a concentration camp prisoner, but instead of succumbing to the situation, he sought to discover the importance of finding meaning in all forms of existence, even the most horrid ones, thus, finding a reason to live. In his book, "Man's Search For Meaning" he wrote, "Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

This is something my ancestors luckily took heed to, a thought process most eloquently portrayed in Langston Hughes' poem, "I, Too Sing America". They sought freedom, both of physical and mental chains. They learned how to read and write, even if being caught with a book would mean the end of their life. Blacks learned that power is not always physical and does not always require large followings but that one determined individual can change the course of history. We became leaders and visionaries, but more importantly, we accepted that we could become equals. But then my generation came along with what appears to be the sole intent of erasing hundreds of years of progress in the right direction.



Colonel McGee and his plane "Kitten", named after his wife

Ebonics and diamonds, fancy cars and baggy clothes. The amount of hoes you have being of more importance than the quality of children you're raising... if you're even around. Get rich or die trying, be known as a bad tipper, blast rap songs where the word nigga comprises 95% of the lyrics as you ride around on your 24 inch rims. Do bad in school, maybe even fail out... but hopefully get a scholarship somewhere for being good at basketball. Attend a class here and there, but don't dare participate. Leave for the draft early, bank on the fact that you won't get injured or wash out.

Did you hear that? It was generations of ancestors rolling over in their graves disgusted at what we minorities have become. We are not special and we don't need special treatment. What we need is focus... because we have more inspiring and motivating figures than we even realize. We owe it to ourselves, but more importantly those of the past who would have KILLED to have the opportunities that we have now. We grow up in less than ideal situations but fail to realize the majority of limiting factors that exist are self-made. We, as Americans in general, need a fucking reality check. We could be a great generation if we just embraced our potential. There would be nothing worse than leaving this Earth knowing we never tried to become the greatest possible person that we could be.

"Aim high and never settle."

If I were to die today, I'd just want the following to be remembered: Carry yourself in a way that would make those before you proud. Walk tall and with confident steps. Walls will occasionally make you stop on the path you're traveling... you can go around, over, under or through... but never settle on being stopped. Speak with pride and never forget your history. Make your own history today that those in the future can revel about. Know who you are, trust your instincts and leave this world completely spent having given everything you had to it.

Priorities

It's funny to think about the things we value in life. For most, value is strictly monetary related. How nice of a car you drive, the location and size of your house, the places you go out to eat, the designer clothes in your closet. For some, worth has less to do with money... at least I have a car that runs, at least I have a warm bed to come to every night, at least we could gather everyone together for this Thanksgiving meal, at least my shoes fit.

And then for some, value only has to do with importance. Can I make it to the bus stop in time to not lose my job? Will there be an open bed for me at the shelter tonight? Can I collect enough money on this street corner to buy a loaf of bread today? Will I be able to find a coat for the winter?

I remember loving Christmas when I was little. My sister and I would wake up and run downstairs, the banister lit up and wrapped with lights and festive garland. Our parents would sit with us in their pajamas, handing out boxes filled with the latest toys and gadgets we had been hoping so badly for. We'd rip apart boxes and stick bows on our foreheads, being disappointed occasionally with gifts of new jeans and t-shirts.

And then we got older and times got tougher. Not so many presents, less expensive presents and eventually no presents at all. I remember not despising the season because we lacked gifts, but because we lacked the happiness. The things I miss weren't the fancy electronics, the latest video games or the Christmas trees... I just miss the feelings. The laughter, the smiles, the false sense of stability.

Because when you're young, your parents often do a great job of not letting you realize things. Children don't realize that the Easter Bunny isn't real, or that Santa at the mall was just some old man trying to make an extra dollar. They also don't understand what it means to "not have the money" and they sure as hell don't understand words like divorce and foreclosure. As children we're just focused on the important things, like if we're getting that new bike or baseball bat for Christmas.

In today's day and age we must impress in order to be a success. We have to flaunt our cash, buy things we know we can't afford, lest we look like fools not keeping up with the Jones'. We spend ridiculous amounts of cash on things that hold no true value because those are the things we're conditioned to believe matter... the things that show we're doing just fine. We care less about our company and more about the quantity and quality of our gifts. You jump in your 2013 BMW on your way home from brunch and notice the intern enviously staring as you drive away but fail to notice the disappointment in your wife's face as you leave without giving her a kiss or sincere I love you each morning... priorities.

I just wish I would've grown up dirt poor. I wish my parents would have been able to afford nothing more than an action figure, that one I really wanted. I wish they would have lectured me on how it wasn't cheap but they got it because they knew it would make me smile so much my face would hurt. Because I would have never let that fucking thing go... until that day when I'd lose it. Because I'd spend that entire day crying, that was the only thing I had... the only thing I loved. And then hopefully my parents would sit me down and let me know how big of a sacrifice that was for them and how I wouldn't be getting another one unless I saved the money to get it myself.

I wish they'd lecture me on how it was just a goddamn toy. About how you should never love a fucking toy more than you love the person who made the sacrifice to get it for you. The person who was working 80 hours a week. The person who'd literally shovel shit in the Sahara just to put food on the table and a roof over your head. The person that hurt more than you when you lost that toy because it was so goddamn expensive but they knew it would make you smile, and now it was gone... money pissed down the pot.

I wish they would've caught me trying to steal a new toy at the store and I wish they would've beaten my ass 50 shades of black and blue with a belt and then given me a round 2 once I finally healed. I wish they would've never bought me another toy ever again. I wish they would've given me a stick and some tape... and told me to make my own fucking action figure.

And then I'd try to... and maybe it would somewhat look like a stick person, and maybe it wouldn't... but I'd use my imagination. And I'd see the beauty my mind was capable of creating and then I'd eventually make a stick figure action figure for each one of my parents. And then I'd see them cry... and then, maybe then I'd realize that I finally fucking figured it out. That my gift was that of happiness, of a smile on their face... it was a gift of simplicity, nothing fancy or expensive and maybe even free... but something to make them realize how much I appreciate their sacrifices.

We complain so goddamn much and appreciate so fucking little until it all starts to slip away. To have a bed and a roof over your head is such a fucking blessing, yet we solely concern ourselves with its extravagance. We have people in our lives who care about us but we take it for granted and treat them like dirt. We refuse to care about the essentials until we find ourselves on the street, bundled with matted comforters shivering under a bridge... all alone and wondering where it all went wrong.

The only, ONLY thing I want for Christmas and this upcoming year is to never forget to appreciate the bare minimum. To always appreciate friends and every little act of kindness they show. To soak in every kiss and get lost in that someone's eyes every chance I get. To let my mom and sister know how much I care about them every single fucking day. To not care about the price of the shirt and just be happy it's keeping me covered. To just be happy I've got shoes on my feet and food in my belly, helping me to make the best of the day ahead.

You can never appreciate the important things in your life too much. There's nothing scarier than knowing you're strong but feeling weak and helpless... and sometimes right when everything seems to be coming together it can feel like the very foundation is ripped from right underneath you. But in the end, you just have to try your best to remember what's important, you've have to trust you've built a firm foundation within yourself. Strip a man to his bare essentials, strip away the false comforts and you'll see a frightened little boy 99% of the time... I'm gonna be that 1%, no matter how scary it may feel at times. Lord knows it sure as hell feels scary right now, time to face the tide.

Befriending The Boogeyman

Sink or swim, there's no better way to go through life. Nine out of ten people will dip their foot in the water to see how cold it is before they jump in, but I refuse to be one of those people. I prefer the mad ones, the ones that calmly remark "fuck it" and jump out into the unknown. The ones that emerge out of the water gasping for air, swearing at the top of their lungs how cold it is, heckling their friends to stop being such pussies and get in.

It's about committing to the moment, whatever that moment may entail. It's about pain and pride, heartache and happiness. What a wasted life it would be to not explore the vast array of emotion and feelings this world has to offer.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Emerson

I've learned to enjoy pain, to enjoy the dark moments, to look forward to the unknown... to embrace it with open arms. To take every negative as a lesson rather than a punishment. To find happiness that today's pain will bring tomorrow's wisdom. To know that today's misfortunes are tomorrow's opportunity to become something better.

There's nothing I enjoy more than watching people suffer through a workout. It doesn't matter how good or bad the workout goes as long as they fully commit to it... because the amount of character built during those precious moments cannot be measured. I've seen people collapse to the ground in complete exhaustion, I've seen people get punched in the face repeatedly and continue to move forward, I've seen people do the "impossible", I've seen people grab their fears by the throat, smile and calmly whisper "bring it, bitch".

I choose to embrace my fears in all aspects of life. To ask that girl out on a date nobody thinks I have a chance with, to apply for that job that has 500 applicants even if they're only hiring one, to stand up for something I find unjust even if only leads to ridicule from the vast majority.

Non Timebo Mala

Our time on Earth is limited, limiting ourselves to only experiencing what is comfortable, fun and easy is simply not acceptable. Challenge yourself to be scared, to take chances. Stand in front of The Boogeyman, whatever he may represent to you and tell that little bitch, "let's dance".

Making Henry Proud

I'm thankful I woke up this morning. I'm thankful I have a bed to sleep in every night. I'm thankful I have multiple blankets to cocoon myself with when it gets chilly out. I'm thankful I can set my thermostat however high or low I want because there's some people out there without heat, without beds, without homes.

I'm thankful my parents tell me they love me every single day. I'm thankful my parents have never given up on me. I'm thankful my parents disciplined me from a young age, that I grew up knowing what "tough love" was. I'm thankful I've always had support from my parents in all my endeavors because they're people out there who have never met their parents, who lost them at an early age or who weren't lucky enough to have them around like I have.

I'm thankful I have a gorgeous sister. I'm thankful she's a beautiful person, both inside and out. I'm thankful she's smart and willing to help a simple guy like myself when I have a brain fart. I'm thankful she could be thousands of miles away but still check up on me whenever possible just to make sure I'm okay because there's some people who don't feel they have anyone they can talk to.

I'm thankful there's always bacon in my house. I'm thankful I have a job that can afford me aforementioned bacon. I'm thankful I can help cook a filling meal tomorrow with my family and I'm thankful that if we somehow lost everything we owned tonight that there's soup kitchens around that would do their best to fill our bellies and help remind us how there's always hope.

I'm thankful I have a car that can get me from point A to point B. I'm thankful the heat works in the winter and the A/C in the summer. I'm thankful I drove a purple 1998 Ford Windstar minivan that had no rear view mirror in high school so that I learned to appreciate the finer things in life instead of being high-maintenance.

I'm thankful I'm healthy. I'm thankful I never let booze and drugs overtake my life. I'm thankful I partied but learned that there's hundreds of thousands of other ways to have fun without having to be fucked up on a consistent basis. I'm thankful I learned good nutrition. I'm thankful I appreciate my body and what it looks like. I thankful I have no shame in walking around naked.

I'm thankful I have quality friends. I'm thankful I can be their "Dr. Phil" when they need someone to vent to. I'm thankful I have friends who will drop whatever they are doing at a moment's notice to be there if I'm in trouble. I'm thankful I have guy friends who I consider brothers and female friends who I consider to be as close as little sisters. I'm thankful I realize family doesn't always mean blood related. I'm thankful I've learned the difference between hearing someone talk and listening to someone.

I'm thankful I find ways to laugh and smile each and every day. I'm thankful to realize there's no such thing as bad days, only bad moments. I'm thankful I've learned to appreciate those bad moments and painful situations for the lessons they can teach us. I'm thankful I can find the beauty in each and every day.

I'm thankful I've learned to live with my heart on my sleeve. I'm thankful I've learned to take chances with love. I'm thankful I've been treated like shit before because it's taught me what I deserve and to never settle. I'm thankful I realize that beauty is only skin deep.

I'm thankful there's still women out there who don't put out on the first date. I'm thankful I've learned that there's a big difference between having sex with someone and making love to them. I'm thankful there's still women out there who appreciate men who are gentlemen. I'm thankful there's still women who expect men to act with chivalry. I'm thankful there's still women who realize chivalry doesn't just mean being bought.

I'm thankful there are men out there who choose to challenge the status quo. I'm thankful some of us who still open doors, who aren't scared of trying yoga, who can bake a mean sweet potato pie and who can still lay a mean hit on someone in a pickup football game. I'm thankful there's some of us out there who don't automatically label things as "gay" or "stupid" just because they're different. I'm thankful there's some of us who challenge ourselves to the renaissance man lifestyle.

I'm thankful I know my strength, and not just in the physical sense. I'm thankful I've learned the power of words and to choose them wisely. I'm thankful I've learned how big such a small gesture as offering a helping hand can be. I'm thankful I've learned to let go of the things weighing me down. I'm thankful I've learned men can still shed tears and be emotional. I'm thankful I've learned that it doesn't matter how many times you fall as long as you find the will to stand back up.

I'm thankful I've learned to truly appreciate the holidays and to not just look at them as a day to eat lots of food or stand in line for hours in order to buy cheap toys and gifts. I've thankful I could lose every possession I own today but still be happy knowing there's still so much I have. I'm thankful I've learned what Thoreau meant by, "... drive life into a corner, and rude it to its lowest terms". I'm thankful I've learned to keep everything in life simple. I'm thankful I've made my life my Walden.