Problems

Well it seems I'm updating this less and less. I'm going to do my best to change that, but for whatever reason writing is not coming easy to me anymore. Writer's block of the century! So for the time being, ya'll (read: me) are stuck with whatever the fuck this is:

PROBLEMS.

Sometimes you need to give yourself a pep talk

Look at yourself in the mirror and say

“Go ahead and bring that chin up.”

The world’s not all fun and games.

Seems good times are few and the bad comes in waves

It’s up to me and you to see one another through

She’s a cruel one, the mistress we call life.

She rubs your back before driving in the knife

No excuses, play like a champion.

Look to one another to lean on

There’s no better way to end the day

Knowing that in some little way

You helped someone who went astray.

We all need a little bit of guidance

A little bit of help now and then

Has helped millions of (wo)men

Get over a millon of problems.

Brought to you by the font Arial

On Writing: Vulnerability

Not really a post. Not really anything. I wrote this thing in my head a few minutes ago. I want to post it now before I edit any of it to keep its sincerity. I don't have many moments of weakness, but I have a whole lot of pep talks. This is a spoken word style pep talk, I suppose. This is very personal and it's taking a lot to post this. I don't like showing vulnerability.

24.

got diagnosed with colon cancer

Put a damper on my journey of looking for all the answers.

Fuck it's such a heavy cross to carry.

Ya boy can't even eat red meat or dairy!

    Looking to the heavens
         waiting to see if He hears my plea.

        
                 Dear Dad, Why have you forsaken me?

It’d be great to have someone pull me along, but fuck it
If not I’ll do all of this alone.

Fuck it's such a heavy burden to bear.

  Only He knows if I can make it through this scare.

       Getting so lost I started smoking trees.

            Looking where to go asking please, please,

                                                                    PLEASE!

I don’t care what the docs say
You’ve all been wrong anyway.
Ya’ll said I had 3 months left to live
I told you I had a bottomless pit of shits I don’t give.

Nothing can make a heart of gold go cold.

Even if smoking dope to cope with losing hope
is getting so damn old.

I've got the strength of 13 men.
I don’t give a fuck if I have bad luck,
Even this can't do me in.

Eyes on high, piercing through the sky

Looking to the heavens and asking "Why?

   What did I do to deserve this mess?"

Dressed head to toe in my Sunday’s best,
   I’ve looked the Devil in the eye and spit in his face,
      Even he can’t keep up with my pace.

Give me all of the legions of hell
I’ll put all you fucks under the same damn spell
What attempt is this?
     First,
           Second,
                    third,
                        Fourth,
                                 Fifth?

Fuck it, go for a sixth.
Hate it break it, Lucy, I'm not the guy you want to dance with.

In Memoriam Craig Sager

Hey team!

     Sorry I haven't posted since 9/9. It turns out someone forgot to wake me up when September ended, but fret not, this is My December. I have a lengthier post in the ol' pipeline right now, but she's waiting on some photographic accompaniments so until then you get this young buck.

     Someone once said to me, "Hey! You should write a blog about cancer and you're struggle with it!" and I responded, "lolfuckthatbro." I didn't want to for a lot of reasons, but mostly I just don't really care to talk about it. If someone brings it up and wants to talk about what's going on, I can and will give you an earful. I'm in a real unique and bizarre situation so I fully understand all of the curiosity...

...especially the morbid musings. We all sort of know what cancer is. We hear it all the time on commercials, TV, the NFL, and, more importantly, our day to day life. Most of us don't really know what it entails, but we know what the end results usually are. You get diagnosed, you get pumped full of poison, and then you usually die, but not without being given the opportunity to yank a few mores years out of Death's grasp and live a bit longer, reflect on your past, present, and potential future, mend up relations, and yatta yatta yatta. We're also told that the extra years you're provided usually are full of pain, sadness, and feeling like shit. While that is sort of true, it's mostly horseshit. I just want everyone to know that.

     There's really only one thing to do when you're given such news and it sure as shit isn't crying, moping, and being a total Debbie Downer. The only way to take it is for what it is and that's a second chance, a gift, hitting the pause button to reassess your life, and learn to get the fuck over it. As weird as this probably is to hear, it's probably harder to say it, but this whole cancer mess might be the best thing to ever happen to me. It's brought my family closer together, afforded me an entirely different outlook on life (and it's really no where near as bleak as we are all led to believe,) I've never taken care of my body this well or have felt this good before in my life, but most importantly it gave me chance after chance after chance to look those who are (allegedly) far more knowledgeable than I am right in the eye and give them one big, fat "Told you so. lol."

     Seriously, you all know how much I like giving the ol' ITYS card so this has really been a great run. I think I've done a good job of keeping my head on straight and staying sane, driven, excited, and optimistic. I've obviously taken some hits and have had my challenges along the way, but this journey has been easier than I thought and a total gift, all things considered, and as much as I'd like to take credit for doing it on my own, I can't. As many of you know, an incredible, incredible human being was just taken away from us by the name of Craig Sager. As much as I've leaned on my immediate support system over the past 18 months, there hasn't been a soul in the world that I've looked up to more than Craig Sager. When this all started for me, I honestly felt like I was very capable and very well-equipped to handle this and I don't think I was wrong about that, but having a high level of confidence coupled with the continuation of proving doctors, doubters, and delusionals wrong can take you places where people shouldn't go very often. I felt invincible, almost infallible even, like how can anyone be doing better than this? I was even called an X-Man which means I'm one step closer to reaching my goal of becoming Hugh Jackman.

    Then the news of Craig Sager's diagnosis came to fruition. He was 63 at the time and needed radiation therapy, bone marrow transplants, dialysis, the whole fucking nine, ya got it? That's tough shit. that's real tough (wo)man shit. That's tough to endure at any age, let alone 63, but the way Craig Sager went about it was truly remarkable. His attitude was some next level shit. His tact, his poise, his unfailing optimism, his ambition, and ever present smile truly made him my rock. I don't often complain, I don't often get sad, miserable, or whatever synonym you want to drop here. I've tried to remain stoic and pragmatic, and mostly cheerful, but even I have moments of weakness. It is shockingly easy to talk yourself into complacency, or into giving up, or this, that, and the other. Whenever any sort of negative thoughts entered my head, I immediately turned to Craig Sager and without fail he inspired me to pin back my ears, grab my lunch box, and go to work. His infectious cheerfulness, humor, and lightheartedness were hard NOT to catch and the best part about it is that it wasn't a farce, a gimmick, or a facade. As I'm sure anyone who watches basketball know that that's just who the guy was. He always had a smile, a joke, a hug, or a laugh to give. If players or coaches ever gave him a hard time or tried pushing his buttons, he laughed it off. Even in his darkest hours, being challenged by something bigger than he's ever encountered, he STILL remained who he was and never let his convictions falter. When people say "Be better," they're referring to the benchmark that Craig Sager set. Everyone needs a hero and he's mine.

    This post was supposed to be me telling everyone about my recent computer issues and that I will have a post talking about the morbidity, side effects, and all that juicy goodness of cancer. Someone told me I should write about the goings on behind the scenes because there might be someone out there that needs to hear them and I didn't really understand that concept until I realized that even I needed someone. The post clearly turned into something much more than that and it still isn't about photography. If I'm being honest it's getting a bit hard for me to write right now and I've already gotten too emotional for my liking so I'm going to have to put the rest of what he meant to me on hold for now. Here's one of my favorite quotes of his

“If I’ve learned anything through all of this, it’s that each and every day is a canvas, waiting to be painted — an opportunity for love, for fun, for living, for learning."
                                               -Craig Sager 

I will run with the bulls in Pamplona,  I will race Andretti in Indianapolis. I will climb the Great Wall of China. I will wrestle gators in Florida. I will sail the ocean with Ted Turner (probably someone else.) I will swim the oceans in the Caribbean.  I won't jump out of airplanes over Kansas though, fuck that. Call me King Louie 'cause I wan'na be like you, Craig.

To once again quote you,

“I will never give up, and I will never give in. I will continue to keep fighting, sucking the marrow out of life, as life sucks the marrow out of me. I will live my life full of love and full of fun. It’s the only way I know how.”

                                                           -Craig Sager

RIP You beautiful man.

P.S. Oh, and I don't plan on dying, folks.

On Photograp.....wait, no. On Cancer

     As I stated in my previous post, I came down with a touch of the cancers. I’ll throw you all a quick timeline bone without getting too much into it now. I’ll tell you all a more in depth story about it another time, but it’s pretty heavy and emotional so until then, you get this:

     June 5, 2015 I was living in Los Angeles at the time and I was out at some cover band night at Dirty Laundry, a bar in Hollywood. It’s a great spot if you ever get a chance to visit. You need to go down a dark alleyway, go down a creepy set of stairs, and walk into an unmarked, sketchy door to get inside, but once you’re in the party don’t stop. It’s in an old basement and there are different rooms set to different themes; Trick rooms, lounges, bar tops, music room complete with a stage and sound set up, etc. Very cool stuff. I was there with three of my roommates and a few friends from work to let loose a little. I’m not very good at attacking something half assed and when I drank it was the same thing. One whiskey ginger ale turned into eight in about an hour and I was feeling good on a Wednesday before you could say “Grande fat free, sugar free caramel macchiato please!”

     I stumbled on home at around 2AM (by stumble I mean took a cab because I lived in the Hills and I wasn’t going to walk up a mountain inebriated. Or ever. Because fuck that.) I didn’t sleep so well that night and had some general feelings of stomach discomfort, but I attributed that to the fact that I drank so much in so little time and I don’t sleep well ever. Totally normal, right!? Wrong!

     At the time I was working behind the bar at a vegan tequila bar in West Hollywood by the name of Gracis Madre. Once again, if you make your way to Hollywood check it out! It’s delicious and has easily the best cocktails in the city. Easily. Over the next few days my stomach really started to bother me. I was in severe pain from laughing, breathing, reaching above my head, and really any amount of movement. I was planning on just working through it and getting to my day off and hopefully sleeping away the pain as I’ve always done, but I was in the process of courting a lady, who also happened to be my boss, and one night at my place I woke up with night sweats for the third day in a row and the stomach pain was worsening. She told me not to go into work, if I did she would have me fired she said, and to go to the ER. So when I woke up in a pile of sweat the next morning, I hopped into my car and drove to Ceder Sinai in Beverly Hills. Because I’m a world renowned thespian and I belong in Beverly Hills.

     This post was originally supposed to be about my growing interest in film photography and photography in general, but apparently it’s not so easy to introduce the ol’ stage 4 cancer at 25 bit. I’ll finish this up quickly and my next post will be about photography.

            So…Cedar Sinai, great place. The staff couldn’t have been friendlier. Or better looking. I felt like I was in the middle of Grey’s Anatomy episode so in a way I achieved my goal of landing a role on a major television show within a year. I went in to sit in a waiting room for a few hours on a very empty stomach (I stopped at Wendy’s on the way, but I got suckered into giving my freshly purchased food to a homeless guy who just had his food thrown away by a police officer because he was protecting and serving.) I finally went to the back, had to submit a bunch of tests, and it ended with an ultrasound of my liver. All of the doctors were accusing me of being an alcoholic, having Hep C, or cirrhosis.

 Was I an alcoholic? Ehhh…debatable, but I was 25. I drank a lot, but c’mon. Hepititis? I mean I dabbled in some dibble I shouldn’t have dabbled in I suppose, but….nope. Cirrhoris? No. My only reason is because I hear about it in commercials. I’m not a commercial disease kind of guy. I saw the images. I’m not an idiot. My liver was riddled with almost two dozen spots and you don’t get that kind of liver damage from drinking on the weekends. I had an instant gut feeling that it was liver cancer as soon as they started questioning me. Now you’re probably asking: Hey, you said it was colon cancer!! Oh, I did. This shit is metastatic, son. Go big or go home.

            I’m going to leave you with that for now. It’s a good ending point. A routine ER visit turned into a weeklong stay at the hospital full of biopsies, needle stabs, bood tests, and scared parents coming in from out of town. The first week of June is really the beginning of my journey back to Arizona, my fight with cancer, and the stress it’s put on all my relationships (spoiler alert: My former boss moved states with me and became my girlfriend. DUN DUN DUN!!!)

As you can see, really like photography!