Gifted Kid or Just Lucky Guesser?

When I was in 4th or 5th grade, I got placed into one of those "gifted" programs in the school. For one afternoon out of the week, all the "gifted" kids went to a different classroom where they would work on trying to solve complex problems, like how a truck driver could pass under a bridge that was four inches too low compared to his load height. I thought it was pretty stupid and spent most the time being happy I wasn't in my normal class while working on tracing pictures of Simpsons characters in the hopes if I did it enough I'd be able to draw them free hand one day (spoiler alert: not even close). My time in the gifted class lasted all about a month before I was told it probably wasn't a good fit for me and I was sent back to my normal classroom. And then until the end of that school year I was ridiculed for getting kicked out of the gifted program by kids that were never even considered for the program. Somewhere in that is a life lesson nine year old me would be incapable of learning. 

Now I wouldn't say I was actually a gifted kid. If anything, I'm pretty sure my lack of common sense and social awareness qualified me for whatever you would call the programs for kids that were the opposite of being "gifted." But I did have a pretty good memory in my younger years, at least for things I read. Like I could read the assigned textbook reading just once and remember nearly everything from it, at least well enough to ace most tests. After that I usually forgot it, but that kind of seemed how school was designed to be anyways. And I think it's that good memory (most of which I've ruined with alcohol and age) that made people think I was smarter than I really was. The other problem with having such a memory though was that it made a lot or learning seem easy to me. So much so that when learning got hard, I often ignored it to pursue learning something else that seemed easy again.

Somewhere on Facebook (so obviously very sound medical journalism) some years ago I read about a phenomenon called "gifted kid syndrome," essentially saying kids that grew up smarter often struggle later in life because they haven't developed the study/work skills necessary for when things get more challenging. (There's other things involved with it as well, but for the purpose of this blog, that's what I'm focusing on). And at the time, as much as some of those things in that article clicked for me, I dismissed the article as a bunch of stupid excuses people make for being lazy.

The problem here is I was blaming the symptom, not the disease. 

I realized this over the weekend due to a very poor performance for myself at a gaming tournament. And my immediate thought was just to quit this game and move on to something else. For as much money as I've spent on this game and as much time as I've put into learning about it, my actual playing experience is very limited. But because in my first actual competitive experience I didn't do extremely well or even relatively well (or any sort of well as it really was a piss poor showing on my part), I wanted to be done with it. And then I started thinking about this series of thoughts I was having and how familiar they felt. I do this all the time. 

Nearly every time I've taken a class and it ended up needing more time/commitment than I thought it would, I've dropped the class. Some times I've retaken the class at least a little more prepared mentally, but usually it just stays a withdrawal on my record and I take a year off before taking something else just to try and keep from having to reapply to the school again. 

I barely go to jiu-jitsu because it takes an actual dedication to learn. I don't know why (probably because I'm pretty close to being the opposite of "gifted"), I thought I'd be a bit of a natural when I started jiu jitsu so many years ago. But when it turned out that wasn't the case, it got a lot harder to show up. And even when I do decide to go back, it's usually only a few weeks at a time because that's all it takes for me to re-realize it's never going to get easy for me, so maybe I should look for something else that will.

I love music, probably more than anything else. But learning an instrument? I quit guitar before ever having to deal with my fingers bleeding from playing too much. And once I realized I wouldn't be a natural on piano like Mozart was, that dream got left behind as well.

And writing... I always thought writing was one of the easiest things on earth and I could just put that off through my younger years cause I'd have all the time I wanted to knock it out when I got older. But you know what? Writing actual stories with real character development and plots without tons of holes takes a good bit of work. And while in my head there's hundreds of stories I think would be awesome to tell, when it comes time to put in the work, I suddenly find it's not so easy and go looking for something that is. 

I'm sure this applies to other things in my life, but this seems like enough examples. The point is, even after quitting drinking and doing some of the things I thought needed to be done to get my life in order, I'm still my own worst enemy. 

Awkward Nerd Rage

One of my imagined hobbies that I'm trying to make more a part of my real life is playing Magic:The Gathering (that nerdy card game that used to be quite niche, but seems much more mainstream these days). And this weekend, I got the chance to go to two Magic events and play (usually my schedule allows me to hit up one event at most). The first event I think I did pretty well considering how little I actually get to play and ended winning two matches before losing one and leaving the event (I was too hungry to try and focus for playing in the loser's bracket where there's no chance at winning anything). Then came the next day and the second event.

Before leaving the house, I told myself for this event I was just going to try and have fun, no worrying about winning. If anything, I'd hopefully put together some goofy deck that shouldn't work, but I'll be so happy the one time it does. I even (roughly) planned out the possible decks I could build to accomplish this. But then came time to build the decks. Already from my card pool I could see I didn't have a lot of strong options if I changed my mind and wanted to actually(/possibly) be competitive. But I decided to see what that competitive deck would look like and put that together first. Then after some internal dialogue and doubt about my competitive deck being that competitive, I scrapped it and went back to a "just fun" deck. I lost my first match and quickly. And in no way did I feel I had fun.

At this point, I could've accepted my circumstance and just tried again in the loser's bracket seeing if I could at least still salvage a winning record for the night. But I didn't - I packed up my cards and went home. Not because I thought I didn't have a chance at winning any matches. Or because I was too hungry to keep focus. I went home because I was mad.

Partly, I was mad because less than an hour before all this happened, the Bills lost to the Broncos in overtime and that was sitting in the back of my mind annoying the crap out of me. But such is the life of a Bills fan.

But mostly I was mad because when it came down to it, I really did want to win and I was deluding myself when I said I was only there to have fun. That's not to say I can't have fun when I don't win, but that I'm not having fun when I'm not even trying. And I had no one to be mad at but myself. 

And as I write this, I'm suddenly realizing how much this may very well apply to so much more of my life. Probably something to talk about with my therapist. Or bottle up and let eat at me for years on end until it becomes another bit of the white noise in the back of my mind that somehow reminds me I'm less than I really could be while at the same time convincing me that settling is safe. Anyways...

Life was Better When Social Media Had People Arguing for a Spot in Your Top 8

 It was a lot harder for me to hit the "delete" button on my Facebook account than I thought it would be. 

I mean, I know it's a horrible platform these days in which its users are the product. Keeping up with friends gets harder and harder as the feed gets filled with more and more ads, many disguised to look like posts from people I supposedly might know. And Mark Zuckerberg is one of the biggest piece of shit human beings on the planet. 

But Facebook is still one of the easiest ways of keeping in touch with people. Granted, with the way the feed works these days, it's gotten hard to keep up with what's going on in random friends' lives unless you specifically go to their page, but that often feels like more effort than it's worth (especially when you're trying to find out if someone is finally single again and their relationship status still shows "in a relationship"). 

There's also, for someone that's quite active on the site and has been on it for close to 15 years, so many pictures on there. Sure, they can be backed up (you can actually back up nearly all of your profile should you want to), but it's just not the same as having them out there for the world to see. 

And I don't have to spend as much time doom-scrolling Facebook as I do - I can learn to moderate, plenty of people do. But it's just so easy to pull it up on my phone when it feels like there's nothing else to do, especially if I don't feel I have the time to start doing something productive like reading an actual novel. Even though I usually end up spending 10-15 minutes doom-scrolling each time, which is definitely enough time for reading a few pages from an actual book.

Funny enough, as I sat there contemplating whether I should actually delete the damned thing, I remembered the first invite I got for the site. It was back in the days you needed a university email address to join. I created my first profile on the site, goofed around with it for a few minutes, and then told myself there's no way that site could replace Myspace. If only I knew then what I know now...

Anyways, after too much contemplation and reminiscing, I finally hit the delete button. Didn't even bother backing anything up either. I do have 30 (well, 26 at this point) days to change my mind according to the site and I know there's a chance I do so (telling myself I'm only doing it to retrieve some old photos and then I'll re-delete it, but knowing full well that won't likely happen). But I hope not.

Of course I have no idea how anyone will find/read these stupid blogs now that I'm not posting the link to them on Facebook, but that's probably also for the better. 

Can't Make a Wrong Turn if You Never Go Anywhere

Now that I'm officially middle aged, it's hard for me to not look back upon my life and wonder how the hell did I get here. I mean, I pretty much know how I got to where I'm at (mostly indecision and "playing it safe"), but there's a lot of looking back and comparing where I actually am to where I thought I would be. 

 

At 5 years old, I didn't know 45 was an actual age anyone got to. (Of course, I may be misremembering this as I was only 5, but it lines up in my head now).  I knew you could either be a baby, a kid, a big kid, an adult (like my parents) or an old person (like my grandparents). But the idea that I would one day be 45 years old myself would've seemed impossible to me then. That said, if I had to imagine myself doing something at 45 back then, I probably would've said pharmacist because that's what my dad did (and I had no idea that that even was). Or a ninja. But outside of that, I don't think I could've thought anything else about it.

At 15... At the beginning of 15, I imagined I would someday be a professional athlete - most likely in the NFL. Never mind that I didn't play any organized sports in high school nor did I bother getting my grades up enough so I could be eligible to play sports, I was sure it would somehow just magically happen. By the the end of 15, my dream of being rich and famous had mostly transitioned from being an athlete to being a rock star (or possibly writer). And much like my athletic dreams, I put no real work into achieving those dreams; instead I just expected them to happen. I was also sure at this point that by 45 I would not only be rich and famous, I would have a super model wife and a couple really awesome kids. 

At 25... To start the year off, I moved to England courtesy of the US Air Force. And I was sure it was fate so that I could meet some beautiful British woman I was destined to marry and have a family with. And of course, once I married her she would become my muse and I would begin my real career as a writer. I also decided at this point I should start going to school to be a teacher as a backup plan, even though I was sure the writing thing was also my destiny. By the end of 25, I had developed an infatuation for an American girl that was also stationed there. And when I say "infatuation," I mean I went full neckbeard. (Definitely not some of my proudest moments). And I was sure by the end of 25 that at 45 I would be married to said girl and we'd have a family that was always traveling thanks to the success of my writing.

At 35... I'd somewhat recently taken a full time job with the Air Force Reserves that I told myself was only going to be for a short time while I got my ass back into school to finish off that degree so I could be a teacher. I was also in a relationship that I wasn't entirely sure about and I handled that uncertainty by continually trying to advance it to the next level. So I bought a house that we could live in together. I figured by 45 we would've worked all the issues out and be married, though I was no longer really thinking I'd have kids. 

 

I don't know what the point to writing all this is. Guess I'm feeling a bit nostalgic (some might even say pensive) and figured I'd drag others along for the ride. I could probably write a bunch more about any of those given years (except maybe age 5), but I think these blurbs make for good snapshots. Sometimes I just think it's funny where life leads us (especially for those of us that refuse to take a lead). And with that in mind, I'm also going to imagine where I am 10 years from now.

At 55... Assuming I stay sober, based on historical trends, I'll be in the same job (or something adjacent). I won't necessarily enjoy it, but I know it could be worse and I've come to terms with it that way. Not to say I'm giving up on the teaching thing - I'm pretty sure I'll at least have finished my degree by 55. I just have my doubts I'll leave something financially comfortable for something that requires stricter personal budgeting. I certainly don't expect myself to somehow get magically rich and famous for work I won't do. I don't know if I'll still be in Alaska, but it's hard to imagine myself anywhere else. And of course, if I decide to start drinking again, I'll probably be dead before I make it to 55.  

2025 - Not the Worst Year

 I know there's still like a week and a half left to the year, but I don't see much happening in that time. So here's my review for the year...

I went through a breakup. It sucked. It still sucks some times. And while we actually broke up the end of 2024, it didn't become real for me until around May time frame. As I'm sure the case is for most people with most breakups, I learned a good bit about myself and a bit about life in general. What sucks is I feel a lot of it was lessons I should've learned a long time ago. C'est la vie.

So when the breakup became real, I told myself the best way to handle it was to keep busy. So I got more serious about having a jogging routine and started going back to jiu-jitsu. That all lasted about a month. Then I felt burnt out and I was back to "taking a break" from it all. It took a few months of being on break, but I did finally start going back to jiu-jitsu again as well as putting the treadmill to use. Not as often or as consistently as I should, but it has been happening and hopefully with time it becomes more regular.

I didn't do as much schooling for the year as I'd been hoping. In fact, I only knocked out one remedial class I needed before I could take an actual class I needed. But each time I signed up for that class, I found myself unable to focus and ended up dropping. Then the government shutdown hit and I found myself without work/pay for awhile, which gave me a lot of time to think about my future. I didn't figure out much, but I did realize I need to get serious about my education/getting a degree. 

I want to have a lot of goals for 2026. I feel like I'm at this point in life where the future will be what I make of it. But I also know that when I give myself goals and then I fail to meet one of them, I have a habit of just giving up on all of them. So while I have a ton of things I hope happen in 2026, I have one goal - completing enough school so that in 2027 my goal can be to finally graduate. (However, in lieu of that goal, I'm willing to settle for winning the powerball). 

Two Years Sober - A Review

If I have one drink, I'll have two. And if I have two drinks, I'll have ten. And after that, I'm drinking until I don't know how to stop anymore. 

Maybe it doesn't happen all at once. Maybe I can limit myself to just one drink at a time, during social outings with friends. Maybe after awhile I allow myself two. And maybe even I can keep myself to that limit.

But I know deep down, it's only a matter of time. It's just a bad day away when I think "what does it even matter?" and I let myself escape to that numb feeling only alcohol seemed to bring me. I promise myself it'll just be that one night and then I'll get back on track. 

Or maybe it's a really good day and I feel I deserve the right to celebrate in excess. After all, I've proven I have control again. It's time to let loose and tomorrow I'll get back to moderation.

But it'll never work like that. One bad day snowballs into lots of bad days and lots of reasons to want to feel numb. Funny enough, one drunken celebration of a good day also snow balls into lots of bad days. Lots of chasing that happy feeling while it gets further and further away.

And then before long, all semblance of control is long gone and I'm stuck wondering how I let it get so bad. Wondering if I'll ever be able to get sober again.

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Year two certainly had it's challenges, but staying sober was rarely ever one of them. And I think that's due to me always keeping the above in mind. I've heard a lot of people say year two was harder than year one because they thought they had control (since they already did a whole year without alcohol) and decided to try having "just one" again. And for most of them, it didn't take long til they were back where they started. So I guess, in a sense, I'm lucky that I still in no way think I can have control. 

That said, I did not get back to being as physically active as I'd been hoping to for year two. I wasn't a complete couch potato, but due to some personal stuff that happened throughout the year as well as me just generally loving sitting on my couch (or laying in bed), I didn't get out as much as I'd like. 

Does that mean I hope to try and change that in year three? Yes, yes it does.

More importantly for this next year though (or at least I think it's more important - some days it's hard to tell what I should be prioritizing, but that's something to talk about another time) is getting serious about planning for the next stage of my life. I'm not even sure what that means, but I've been spending the last few months thinking a lot about where I am vs. where I want to be (and where I believe God is telling me I should be going) and the two(/three) places are definitely not the same. 

Five Reasons "How I Met Your Mother" Doesn't Suck

I know I have a tendency to focus on the negative. And a tendency to point out the negative I see to anyone not even trying to listen. But I swear I'm not all doom and gloom. For all the shit I can (and will) talk about How I Met Your Mother, I still think it's a decent show. I wouldn't be going through the re-watch otherwise - there's too many other good shows out there I could be watching if I didn't really like this one. (Though if I were to be honest, I'd probably just be watching The Office again). Anyways, here's five things that make HIMYM worth the watch.

(Also, I'd like to say, if you've watched the whole series and know how it ends, but you've never re-watched it and have no desire to ever do so, I suggest just going back and watching season 8 episode 20 again. But, ummm... you may want to have some tissues nearby. In case someone nearby is cutting onions or something). 

5) The show has some pretty clever writing. Granted, it's not always consistent writing. But it's still quite clever much of the time. The one-liners are often good, which makes for a good sitcom. But more importantly, the writers make great use of foreshadowing in a way that I think just might be peak for a sitcom. Even in the later seasons.

4) I went to NYC once and the trip was absolutely horrible. Yet I still love the city. And because HIMYM is set in NYC, it automatically gets kudos for that. I know it can be argued that most the show was actually filmed in LA, but they do a good job of making it feel NYC and for that, I love it.

3) Some of the greatest music to be features in a television show has been featured in HIMYM. In fact, I'd say it rivals Grey's Anatomy for best music featured in its show (assuming the listener is really into indie music along with the occasional pop song). And unlike Grey's Anatomy, watching HIMYM doesn't make me want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon.

2) I think sitcoms that are set in the same time period they're filmed in serve as a sort of time capsule (and I hope to someday write a whole blog about this particular thought of mine). And HIMYM perfectly captures the mid-200s - mid-2010s (at least for middle class white Americans in their early adulthood years). And I absolutely love that about this show. Though watching the characters go from regular cell phones to smart phones does make me wish smart phones never became a thing. Which is something they actually cover in an episode.

1) Lastly, while I realize Ted Mosby is a fictional character and life is nothing like a sitcom, Ted's seemingly unending sense of hope often gives me a hope. Ignoring the fact that Ted is an idiot for not staying with Victoria in season 1, the dude goes through a lot of heartbreak. But he always gets back out there. Sure, some times it takes a little longer than others to dust himself off and pick himself up, but even when all the signs tell him it's time to call the quits - even when he thinks to himself that indeed it's time to call the quits - he finds a little hope and let's that guide him. And sometimes, when you're struggling to find such hope yourself, it's helpful to see someone else do it.