More Bad Life Advice

For the longest time I believed so many lies. After each major accomplishment in my life, no matter how big or small, it felt hollow. Always. Graduations, promotions, raises, awards… it felt good in the moment, the ego got a nice boost, but the happiness was fleeting. It would quickly change to resentment. Was this what I was doing with my life? Is this what I truly wanted to be doing with my time? Am I really gonna brag about my 2016 Communicator of the Year in District 8 Award forever? How low is the bar I set for my life?

Obviously, to each their own.

If you love promotions, accolades, and raises, I hope you keep moving up that corporate ladder, inventing words like synergy, and getting rewarded with lots of cash. There’s nothing wrong with chasing what you want. For me, I don’t care about any of that. Keep that 9 to 5 grind for yourself and give me a kind woman, a pen, paper, a place to call my own, and a bottle of dry red, and watch me turn into the happiest man on the planet in just eight hours.

That’s what I’m after.

Working enough to get by while enjoying the things that matter most during my little time of existence. Spoiler. We’re all going to die. If you want to spend your time before that “grinding” and enjoying offices with views, go for it.

Want to use your hands to make a living? You should be able to do that and live comfortably. If only life were that easy.

Bills. Debts. Housing costs. Transportation. Fuel. Food. Taxes. The capitalist trap. A car is needed to travel to and from the job I need to pay for food and shelter. But I need a job to also pay for the car I need to get myself to the job I got after taking out massive loans for four years to allow me the opportunity to earn more high paying job opportunities. It’s tongue twister of debt-drowning economics. I guess someone should have blessed me with a better brain. Or I should have been born into a rich family.

With that not that case, how can I pay off my bills and escape this rat race?

Win the lottery?

Better shot at getting struck by lighting.


Invent something?


Gamble with stocks or sports betting?

I’ve always wanted to drive to Atlantic City on payday and bet my paycheck on a game of roulette. One bet. Red or black. The entire check on the line. Either I go hungry until next payday or live like a white trash king for two weeks. Haven’t had the gusto to do that. At least not yet. I’m also smart enough to understand that gambling wouldn’t be legal if the house lost money. I try to avoid it as much as possible.

Working 9 to 5?

It’s never just 9 to 5. I tried working super hard in that hustler culture during my twenties, but all I got was burnout, more debt, and carpal tunnel.

How about making money by doing something I do every day?

It sounds like a bad fairytale to me, but I’ve heard the advice many times.

There’s only one thing I do everyday… well… actually… there’s only two things I do every single day. One is writing. I’ve written every day since I was a little boy. Well, minus a few years after a broken heart post-college. That time spent not writing was the darkest part of my life. I don’t know if I’m any good at writing, but it’s the one thing I love doing the most. Even in my career, writing assignments were the only part of any job that I liked.

I figure that the only way for me to escape this inhumane existence is to write myself out. I write more than I do anything. It’s the thing I do best. That’s my best option for getting rich and escaping the grind to a simple paradise.

But it might not work.

Many have tried and many have died in gutters broke, cold, and alone without making it. It’s not a beautiful way to die, but is death ever beautiful? Living a compromised life seems like one of the worst ways to die, no matter how long I’d live. I happen to admire those poor, dead dream chasers. At least they had the courage to try. That’s more than I have ever been able to say.

But not anymore.