Who do I want to be in 90 days?

It's spring. Time to sit down and set some goals for myself.

• Lose at least 5 lbs. 
• Do at least 50 push ups, with breaks in between sets of say, 15 to 20. 
• Abide by the healthy diet. 
• Learn to cook a decent stir-fry. 
• Cut down the QT doughnut runs. I had two tonight, and that's really pushing it.
• Stop being paralyzed with anxiety when I want to go talk to a sexy girl. I managed to smile at this one girl when I was in line to get my doughnuts but froze when I thought to myself that I should go talk to her.
• Be able to carry on a conversation with someone you'd like to go out with without pissing her off. Playing the asshole is definitely not my strong suite. My brother can be an absolute douche-bag to women. He insults them and then laughs at them, and yet every one he ends up with is really hot. Every time I try to be that guy, I immediately regret it. 
• Stay positive and upbeat.
• Learn to be outcome independent. It truly is not about winning or losing. If I'm just having fun, then it doesn't matter what the outcome of the evening is.
• Get a full set of original songs finished with lyrics. Lets say at least 10.
• Practice with the band at least once a week. Look for a fourth member. I've already put the word out that I'm looking for another person, so if YOU happen to know anyone looking for a band, please let me know.
• Write in this blog at least twice a week. 
• Go to at least one show a week.
• Cook at home and stop blowing all my money on eating out. Brown bag it at work with the leftovers.
• Clean my room. Dust that mother fucker. Purge the junk I'm not going to use. Build or purchase clothes storage units from the thrift store. Organize and fold clean clothes. Hang up my shirts. 
• Clean my car. That shit is not presentable.
• Update my wardrobe. I need to have good looking outfits to go out in. Learn how to mod or spruce up an outfit to make it unique. Get some decent shoes.
• Get a decent hair cut and learn to use product. Yes, Holly, I heard you the last 50 times too.
• Be more confident and have a better self image.
• Find a pool and go swimming.
• Find a better job that pays me what I'm fucking worth.
• Learn to program Linux on my laptop. I already have nun-chuck skills, I just need computer hacking skills and I will have everything I need to attract girls who like skills.

Once upon a time in Phoenix, there was 25 year old skinny punk rock Nate. That guy was awesome. He still had the same anxiety about chatting up hotties, but I was bold and had a thirst for adventure. Today, 35 year old Nate is just sagging into a rut. There is nothing preventing me from regaining my awesomeness, because it's still there. It's just buried under depression and a defeatist attitude. I need to shed this heavy mantle of sloth and self-loathing.

I call upon you, my friends, to aid me on my self improvement quest. If you find one item in this list that you identify with, make a comment and tell me your tips for reaching your goals.

The Rollins Story

Here's the Rollins story. Stop me if you've heard this one.




Back when I lived in Phoenix, my buddy Lee and I went to a Rollins Band show. I had been drinking and decided that it would be a good idea to stand still in the middle of the pit to prove how hardcore I was. Needless to say, someone helped me learn a valuable lesson about humility and personal safety. On a side note, I noticed that no one hit me from the front. They only came up behind me, as if they weren't manly enough to charge me face to face. An injury is always better with a little vindication sprinkled on top.

So anyway, I managed to twist both my ankles that night. After the show I hobbled to the buss where Rollins was signing autographs and I was asking the crew as they loaded if they had any duct tape so I could stabilize my ankle. After a few failed attempts to get someone to acknowledge me, Rollins turns and says " Listen man, we don't have any duct tape. Why don't you go hobble to an ambulance or something." Somewhat crestfallen after one of my idols admonished me so curtly, I limped on and had Lee give me a ride home.

Years later I managed to see him perform again, this time at a spoken word show at the Variety Playhouse. I went to where he was taking photos and signing autographs and I told him the Phoenix story. He looked at me and said "Wow, so what happened to you?" I told him I did the only thing I could do and hobbled home. I said that despite his terse reaction many years prior, I still wanted to be just like him. He then says to me, "No man, I want to be just like you."