Media Pod Smash!

This week, the motivational series comes to an end…for now.

To read along:

The Grand Finale of Hope

by: Jeremy Jordan

Part 1 – Introduction

Well, this is it. This is the very last essay. Hard to believe that we’re finally at this point. It seems like it wasn’t all that long ago that I was just putting the finishing touches on the first one. Another late night/early morning session, eyes fixated on the glowing screen in my office. I love this window of time for working on projects. I feel as though it’s when I can be most productive and in tune with my creative side.

When I recorded myself creating the essay for the podcast, I felt a little bit nervous. In past audios, I’d been known to be pretty candid about things, but this was different. This was a written retelling of one of the most trying periods in my life. Was it too heavy? Should I share this? These were just a couple of many questions I thought about during the recording session. I pondered quite a bit while stumbling and mumbling through the pages. Eventually, I just convinced myself. If I can help or inspire even one person with this, then putting it out into the universe would have been worth it, I thought. Looking back with the perspective I have now, putting that first essay and recording online would end up being one of the best decisions I could ever make in terms of my own personal growth. This essay would be the catalyst for many, many more. I ended up writing about, one essay a month, which lead to a lot of reflection and some confidence gained in myself.

I’ve always been pretty interested in writing, yet consistently writing with purpose and continually meeting my personal deadlines, was something that I could never previously do. Now, I can say that I’ve actually written a book. Well, not now, now, but after this essay is finished. This is something that really excites me and something that I will be basking in for quite some time. I’d love to go back in time and tell my younger self that all that wild and constant dreaming wasn’t in vain.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a household where having creative ideas was really encouraged, especially by my mom. From the most realistic of dreams, to some of the most outlandish, like when I was very young and wanted to build a restaurant entirely out of Lego, all ideas were met with nothing but positive energy. Perhaps, I should have been told to cool my jets every once in a while, especially when presenting some of the really grand ones. The truth is, reality is often very harsh, and many dreams are destroyed by various factors such as belief, criticisms, or generally being too delusional to realize how much effort is needed to make them come true.

I often found that most of my early dreams fizzled due to factor number three, delusion. It’s not like I was a complete idiot that didn’t know what went into completing a major project, it’s just that, I never sat down to think about it very often. I had such a strong belief in myself, I just knew I could pull it off somehow. I liked to fantasize about the end results of success. Me, floating lazily in a pool or at a book signing event with a long line of people. While this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s an easy place to stay trapped.

In my childhood, I had no shortage of hope. I wasn’t afraid to try something if I thought it was an interesting idea. Though it would take me a while to learn that success is a road and never comes just by hoping, I’m still very grateful for all of the encouragement that I received early on. I’d much rather be encouraged and a bit delusional, then discouraged and hopeless.

Throughout the course of these essays, I wrote a bit about projects that I had tried in the past, from making comics in elementary school, to trying to make a movie in college. Surprisingly, there’s one past project that never came up. I say it’s a surprise because it was an attempt that lead to some really good, and early lessons about having a huge dream.

I’d like to take you back to high school, right around 2007. I was a huge nerd with grand ideas. I guess that not much has changed. That could also be an accurate way to describe me now as well. Around this time, I was starting to get really into writing. Short stories and poorly formatted screenplays were my projects of choice.

I sat in study hall with pencil to paper, covering the lower half of my left hand with graphite because lefties be damned. However, I didn’t care about the aesthetics of my left hand, or anything else for that matter. I was in my zone. Something I would learn later is referred to as a “flow state”. I was just about to finish my finest screenplay yet. It was a slapstick parody of Saw, brilliantly titled, “Sawed”.

Part 2 – Sawed

I usually refer to my attempt to make a feature film in college, as the first. Technically though, Sawed was the real first attempt, but it was so haphazardly written, planned, and cast, that Small Town Zombie Folk in the college years, should really be considered the first. From the limited knowledge you have about this first experience, it probably sounds like my Sawed experience was a complete train-wreck, but it did have some things going for it. There was a lot of support for the project and lots of undeserved hype.

Like many people, I was really inspired by Kevin Smith’s first feature film, Clerks. It was so simple and so crude, yet hilarious. The film was an example of what could be achieved with a good idea, lots of passion, and a tiny bit of money. Smith himself, was inspired by the Richard Linklater film, Slacker. I don’t recall exactly when the first time I watched Clerks was, but I know that by the time I started writing Sawed, I was a Kevin Smith junkie. I devoured his films, Evening With Specials, and anything else that he had some kind of involvement in. His words really had an impact on me and helped strengthen my belief in the dreams that I had. One of my favorite Kevin Smith quotes actually comes from a time much later than the Sawed experience, but I think it fits the essay really well and it’s too good not to include: “People have been telling me I’m a failure and that I’m doing it all wrong for 20 years now. Never trust anybody when they tell you how your story goes. You know your story. You write your own story.”

I’ll go as far as to say, he was my hero and his words were my fuel. An energy that helped ignite and keep the Sawed flames burning (for a little while, at least).

When I was finally done with the first draft of my script, I felt this weird thing inside of me. I was proud of myself. This was just a simple piece of writing, but it was the longest thing that I’d ever written at the time, and most importantly, it was a finished project. I had a project in mind, wrote a goal for myself, and followed through. The goal was just a small chunk of a huge project, but even the small pieces count for points in this game called life.

Now that I had a completed a first draft, it was time to turn my chicken scratch into a typed out, edited, final draft. This is a practice that I continue to this day. I find that writing everything into my notebook first, then writing the next drafts on the computer, has been a wonderful method for me, even though it’s still hard to read my own writing sometimes. Thinking of myself now as a young, high school kid, I’m amazed that I had the discipline to sit there and type this whole thing out from just looking at a messy spiral notebook. I guess that just goes to show you what lots of passion and Mountain Dew can allow a person to accomplish.

Once I had successfully printed the script, while at the same time, draining my family’s printer of black ink, it was time to hand it off to my friend and creative partner at the time, Carl. As with all my other stories from the past, names have been changed out of respect and privacy.

Carl and I were really good friends at the time. We had a lot of the same nerdy interests and we seemed to just gel creatively. In elementary school, he would help me in writing some of my Blaze comics, as mentioned in the Gratitude essay. When I tossed out the idea of shooting a movie together, Carl was on board immediately. Early on, he mostly just helped pad the script with ideas and jokes. When it would come time to shoot, he would have a major acting role as the film’s main villain.

Pre-production for our project was moving along nicely and word of what we were up to was spreading. I wrote almost the whole thing during my time in study hall that year, so all of the people in that room definitely knew about the movie and were more that likely very tired of hearing about it. To my surprise, lots of people were pretty excited for this idea and wanted to help out in some way. The hype was starting to build, now it was just time to deliver and show the people the power of big dreams. No problem. I had no concrete plan of action, but at least I had a really full cast and crew list.

In the coming weeks, not much would happen. Whenever people would ask about how the movie was going, I’d say that Carl and I were location scouting and starting to shoot some simple scenes. That was a bit inaccurate to say the least. Most of our hangouts actually involved eating pizza and watching movies. The end of the school year was approaching fast, yet I had no fear. In my head, I figured we’d do a bulk of the work in the upcoming Summer.

Instead of the usual, “Have a good Summer” or “See you next year” messages that were common in my yearbook, this year, lots of messages pertained to the film. Some people left messages of encouragement and others left their contact info, so they could be a part of the production. It was a really good feeling. I felt like a somebody. I felt the true power of having a dream and how that dreaming could impact other people. Only a fool wouldn’t follow through with such a project and potentially let all of these eager people down.

Well, you can probably guess what happened. The Summer breezed on by and I became the fool. It began with great intentions, it really did. We even filmed a couple scenes. It didn’t take long though, for me to realize that we were in pretty far over our heads. All the schedule coordinating, the time, the budget, effects, were all things that would be difficult for two slacker high school kids. Oh, and there was one other little, itty-bitty thing on top of everything else: I did something really bone-headed and kinda ruined the friendship between Carl and I.

I don’t really want to get into it, however, let’s just say, I was totally wrong. If the movie wasn’t already dead by the time the incident happened, this was definitely its final nail.

I would have to shamefully return to school that next year with my tail between my legs and explain to everyone that the movie project was over. All of those wonderful messages in my yearbook were now just a monument to my failure. It sucked that things ended the way they did, but I remained hopeful. No movie? Alright, fine. What’s next?

I still had a strong belief in my abilities and ideas. I knew that I just needed one really, really good one, and then, bam! That would be my ticket into the life I dreamed of. Before the end of high school, I would write a few more screenplays (with actual correct formatting this time!), shoot some random junk for YouTube, and even record some audio. That crude audio recording was nonsense at the time, but a few years later, it would be known as podcasting. At the time, most of the stuff that I recorded never went up anywhere, but it was the very early seeds planted for Media Pod Smash.

By graduation, nothing major had been completed. I was sure that everyone thought that I was just the master of hype and nothing more than that. Those things didn’t bother me though. I saw a long, bright path ahead of me, and my hope never wavered. I was going to go to college for film and really make it happen. I’d show them! They’d all see! What I should have realized is, it wasn’t them that mattered; it was about showing myself what I could do.

To my credit, I did attempt to make a film again and work at my craft while attending college. However, you know how all that went. It was an overly ambitious, clusterfuck of a project, but at least I didn’t destroy any friendships in the process this time. By the end of this attempt, I felt a little different. It was not water off a duck’s back like it had been a few years ago, towards the end of high school. This time, for the first time, I thought to myself, “maybe I can’t really do this”. This thought broke my fucking heart.

My deep well of hope was starting to dry up. Instead of being optimistic for the future, it started to terrify me. I had no plan in place as a backup to film. Rather than attempting to make real plans or keep trying to chase my dreams in spite of all of the failure, I just started to numb myself. It all just fell apart so quickly, that it was hard to see coming. My inner child was still inside of me somewhere, though. I could hear his constant questions and concerns. “What happened to you? You hopeless man! What about the dreams?”

Part 3 – What About The Dreams?

With college in the rear-view, my life now consisted of full time retail. At first, not all hope was completely drained. After a while though, my lack of plans and partying lifestyle, started to catch up with me. Creative ideas started to dim and eventually, I stopped doing just about everything that I used to do. Luckily, through all of this time, I never stopped writing.

Keeping a journal has been one of the best outlets for me in life, and probably the most consistent thing I’ve ever done. Through the ups and downs, certain milestones, and other great memories, there’s a journal entry about it somewhere. I love the fact that I can re-read an entry and be taken back to that certain time and place. It’s interesting to see the growth over time, and wonderful for reflection. For this essay, I thought it might be a good idea to look back at some of these entries. While there are some that will simply never be shared, and I will probably never do this again, I feel that these entries are tame enough for public consumption and really show the timeline of how a hopeless man regained hope.

September 28th, 2012

This is the first entry and I feel that I should jump right in. This morning I was brought to the chilling realization that I am stuck in what seems like an infinite loop of time. A rather chaotic, but true fact nonetheless. I woke up on this cold, nearly Fall morning thinking to myself, “this seems very familiar, but not in a good way.

November 28th, 2012

I have a very real and very strong fear of being never truly satisfied with how things are. In my old position, I longed for more because I was bored. In my new position, I’m very stressed out and feel this still may not be a good fit. What I think I should take from this is that I should not be focusing my energies into retail because no position was ever that good.

February 19th, 2013

It’s been a long time since an update, but that’s because it’s been a long time since a nice change has happened. I’m officially back down to part-time and back into the department where it all began. I’ not sure why tonight of all nights I chose to pick up writing another entry, especially when I have to be awake in about 5 hours, but it just seems right. I’m not sure if things are exactly where I’d like them, but they are definitely starting to move in the right direction.

I was wrong, kinda. The next couple years after this entry did actually go well, but soon the shit would hit the fan. This era was the events described in the Sobriety Revisited essay. A whirlwind of madness and chaos, but not the end of the story.

July 2nd, 2019

The concept of small things done the correct way, each day, in the right direction, seemed overly simplistic. Yet, here I am over 90 days without Nicotine, a new health routine, and more mental and physical strength than I’ve ever had in my life. The great Jim Rohn broke it down rather incredibly; you just pick a new direction and go that way! Small changes each day amount to extraordinary results. So the question now that momentum is on our side is, what’s next?

This entry came on one of the days that I was flying really high. Hope was coming back to me quickly, life was good. The hero wins, end of story, right? Well, unless you’re reading this essay first, you know the answer to that.

February 8th, 2020

So, I’m not sure how to process this day. Things are a little bit hazy. I feel like I’m in a bit of a fog, but at the same time, I’m having feelings of contentment which is nice but sort of leads to guilt, because I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling content right now. Fuck!

March 7th, 2020

I feel like it should be getting easier. It’s not. This has been a real fucking challenge. In almost every entry, I speak of doing my best and I really do try. However, this is nuts. It’s been shit after shit after shit. I’m not complaining (okay, maybe a little), but I could really use a break right now. I know there’s always somebody who has it worse, but for fuck’s sake, just a small break would be fantastic. All I know is that I would be nothing without my routine. Good for us! I know there’s still a lot to improve, but we’ve come a long way. Don’t ever fucking forget that! I know I could cut down on the alcohol and other vices.

April 5th, 2020

Dude, relax with the drinking a bit. I know there’s nothing to do but think about all the progress. At least the to-do list was crushed. Just chill with the hard liquor already.

April 19th, 2020

I’ll be completely honest. I’m really fucking scared. Things feel pretty insane right now and I really don’t want my mental health to decline. Please, please, please slow the alcohol down. I’m not always scared though. Sometimes I’m still really hopeful. Thinking about who I have become and who I have the potential to be, gives me hope. I know that I am capable of so much more.

May 20th, 2020

Here’s the harsh truth; there’s things you must face and conquer. The more you put those things off, the more time passes, and the worse things get. You don’t get to keep fucking things and yourself up with alcohol, and then just feel bad the next day, saying to yourself, “I need to change”, again and again and again. You just need to change. And you can! You’ve done it before.

May 22nd, 2020

Don’t ever fucking quit. So you had to start over? So fucking what? Try and try and try again. You could really do anything you put your mind to. If you ever decide to actually write that book, here’s another pivotal moment for you. It’s the last blast weekend for getting blasted. I’d like to believe that I’m telling the truth. I really, really would, but I’ve been burned too many times already by myself. It’s up to you to make this either a pivotal moment or just another, shitty journal entry.

May 31st, 2020

If you really believe that you have the ability to turn over a new leaf every moment, then fucking prove it. Fix your shit. Write that script. Be nice. Clean up your act.

If you’ve been paying attention, this entry actually appeared once before, in the very first essay. After this entry, something beautiful happened. It all finally clicked for me and I actually did it.

June 14th, 2020

What a big difference from last Sunday to this one! Feels good to not be hungover and anxious. Let’s keep it up.

June 20th, 2020

Tomorrow will be 2 weeks without alcohol. It doesn’t sound like much, but based on how the past few months have gone, this is good. I’m proud. Sometimes I really miss it, but other times, especially weekend mornings, it’s pretty easy to go without.

June 27th, 2020

Tomorrow will be 3 weeks. Does something seem familiar about these entries now? I’ll be honest, I still do miss booze, but it’s not horrible not having it either.

December 6th, 2020

6 months of no alcohol, baby! There’s a few things that still need to be worked on, but everyday is a little more growth.

April 9th, 2021

Don’t stop now. 2 months from now, it’ll be a year. Let’s keep the momentum up and the creativity rolling.

And just like that, I hit the year mark. At the time of this writing, I am just about a couple weeks from hitting the two year mark. It honestly blows my mind. When I look back on the journey, it was not the path I had ever intended on taking. The vision that I had for my future, way back in that study hall while writing Sawed, was very grand. I never intended for things to spiral out of control the way they did, or for myself to lose hope and ambition. Of course, no one ever intends for these things. Sometimes you just get caught up in a certain way of doing things and before you know it, years have passed and you’re wondering what happened. The important thing that I, and anyone else reading this should remember is, it isn’t over until it’s over. The journey I went on was rocky, painful, and a slew of other awful descriptive words, but it was not the end. I had the power to change things and re-write the future. You do too.

A little while after quitting Nicotine, I received two items that I will cherish for the rest of my life. The items were gifts from my Mom, who knew how badly I was struggling and wanted to show me that she was proud of me for sticking with it. For the longest time, I always wanted a cool looking chest for storage that I could put at the end of my bed and really tie things together. What did I happen to find one evening in the dining room after coming home from a particularly bad day of work? That’s right, an awesome chest with a card. The chest was great, but the card ended up being the real gem of the two. Inside the card, my Mom hand wrote a small note of encouragement to me. I’ve shared a lot, but these words are forever mine.

It ended up being the last written thing that I’d have from my Mom, which of course made it even more special to me. Currently, the card resides in a certain place that I see everyday at work. I check everyday to make sure it is still there and to re-read those words. Many awful, terrible things happen in this world, yet I can read this card and be reminded that there are a lot of wonderful things that happen in this world too. I’m reminded that I had someone in this life that cared immensely about me and my silly ideas. I’m reminded that I’m more powerful than I think. Most importantly, the words remind me that having hope is good.

Hope is what got me through awful jobs, it’s what got me through some really sad days, it was the thing that I needed when I wondered if I could ever make a change and quit the things that I needed to quit. Currently, hope has returned in a big way and my well is full. To the inner child that used to ask, “what about the dreams?”, I’ve got your answer: Right here! I’ve got such a long way to go, but in the past couple years, I’ve sworn off alcohol, rebooted a couple podcasts that I care about deeply, and oh yeah, wrote a book! I’m living proof that with will, determination, and that little thing called hope, anything is possible.

So, enough about me. What are you going to do? Is there a fitness program you’ve been wanting to get on? Maybe there’s a book inside of you waiting to come out? Perhaps an entirely different kind of dream exists in you. One that maybe your inner child asks about. What about the dreams? They’re still there and it’s time to dust them off. It may not end up exactly how you picture it, but you will never regret trying, that’s for sure.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks! You’re awesome! This would not exist without you and I would be thrilled if you gained something from this experience. If you did, good. Go out into the world and prove it. Make your little corner of the world something to marvel at. I’ll be right at your side, in spirit of course, as the journey never really does end. There are always challenges to overcome, new goals to topple, and demons to slay. Is it easy? No, definitely not. It may seem a little scary sometimes, however, we’ve got that secret weapon called hope.

Media Pod Smash off!

-Jeremy

This week, Ryan and I disscuss our how Tecmo weekend, go through a brief history of parties, scold the NFL, and more!

This week, I present a mini documentary about the history of our Tecmo Super Bowl tournaments, a new segment called “the visual vault” is debuted, and more!

Here is the accompanying video:

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Hope you have been digging these visual experiements. I’m always looking for new ways to grow and entertain. If there’s something you’d like to see, let me know! I will possibly be doing a .5 sometime this weekend to make up for lost time. Until then, Media Pod Smash off!

-Jeremy

In this month’s scripted episode, I revist the topic of sobriety with more in depth details and insight.
Music credit: Karl Casey @ WhiteBatAudio

Here’s the full essay if you’d like to read along:

Sobriety Revisited

By: Jeremy Jordan

Part 1 – Introduction

“He’s on his way. We should go up and watch for him.”

I sat in the basement excitedly in great anticipation, as the words of my friend connected fully with my brain. The words were from one of two of the friends that I was hanging with. For this essay, we’ll just call him ‘J’. As for the other friend, we’ll call him, ‘M’.

From the outside, it looked like another average Friday night for a group of nerdy teens like us. Sitting around chatting or playing games most likely. J would go to a party every once in a while around this era, but certainly not M and I. Not yet. I perhaps painted a picture just now that would make it appear that we were rather unpopular, however, that wasn’t the case. We just had some pretty specific interests and a small select group of individuals that we most liked to hang out with. For a huge chunk of that evening, it was the average night, but after hearing J’s confirmation, it was all about to change. This evening would soon be totally unlike the other weekend nights from the past. I was going to have my first beer.

My friend M and I watched from the front of the house as J made his way over to a truck parked a few houses down. Upon swiftly receiving the goods from the driver, J booked it back down towards us. I thought the running was a pretty odd choice, that probably seemed more suspicious than if he had just casually walked it back, but I wasn’t going to stop him. I was just pumped to try this stuff and see what all the hype was about.

When he finally returned, we all went back inside and headed right into the basement. J placed the beer onto a coffee table and we preceded to sit around it, just basking in its sweet, sweet glow for a while. It was like a scene plucked straight from a raunchy teen comedy. This was no story though, this was a real coming of age moment for us, or so I thought.

The basking came to an end and it was time. We each grabbed a bottle from the six-pack in front of us. Corona was the brand of choice this evening. Looking back now, I’d say that was a pretty damn good choice for a first beer. It could’ve been a much cheaper and shittier selection, and we would’ve been none the wiser. Unfortunately for me, the brand didn’t matter at all. After a few small sips, I started to realize that maybe I wasn’t so crazy about this. My friends seemed to agree with me, that it wasn’t the tastiest thing in the world, but continued to trudge on and make much better progress then I was.

“Guys, I don’t know if I can even finish this first one” I recall saying to them.

“Ah, come on! It’s not that bad!” they replied. Maybe that’s not exactly what they said, but close enough.

The night was quickly transitioning into early morning. Time was not on my side as I sat there with my half empty bottle. No buzz to speak of, no feeling that I was having a coming of age moment that I would one day fondly look back on. None of that, just a couple of annoyed friends who were long done with beer number one. I insisted that they shouldn’t let me slow them down, but they wanted to wait. Part of me thinks that secretly, they weren’t crazy about continuing either and just used me as the scapegoat, but I don’t really know.

When the night finally came to an end, not much more progress had been made. The three remaining beers continued to rest nicely in their case and taunt me while I sat with my friends in the dimly light basement, watching a replay of the ball game from earlier that day. That was that. This would not be the gateway to a life of partying and pounding drinks. This would instead just be an ironic memory from the past.

As you probably know, I would come to really enjoy, actually, strike that. I’d come to love beer and other alcohol. If there was ever a time that I never ended up finishing a beer from that point forward, it was probably because I forgot I had opened it, or was too wasted to do so.

The gateway was coming, it just wasn’t time yet. In fact, it would be a few more years before we would even dabble in this stuff again. We mostly went back to just doing the normal stuff we were accustomed to. It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when I had no interest, but that was truly the case. One particular evening though, the conditions were right. I was ready to give it another go, and things as I knew them, would never be the same again.

Part 2 – Passing Through The Gateway

The first time that I can recall getting really intoxicated for the first time, was at a grad party. I feel comfortable saying this now because enough time has passed and I think just about everyone had some kind of experience with drinking around this time. It was the summer of 2009, we had just finished high school, and the world was ahead of us. I had lots of anxiety about what was to come, but was usually able to push it away rather quickly whenever I felt it start to bubble up. It was summer, the last blast, baby! I could worry about all that future stuff in the fall. For now, my main objective was to live it up with friends and go on crazy adventures that I could one day look back on or even tell stories about to my kids.

I had high expectations set for what I wanted the summer to look like. I foolishly feared that maybe I wouldn’t see some of these great people for quite a while, or worse, ever again. Of course, I was way off in thinking that. I still maintain a lot of quality friendships with folks from that era. Graduation was not some magic force that separated people, especially if the bonds were already tight. Young me was blinded by my fears though. The rational line of thinking wasn’t quite there nor the experience to tell me that it’d all be okay. Instead, it was time to soak it all up and party on.

The grad party was out in the country, at an old farmhouse. It was one of those family and close friends combo parties. The family mostly just stuck around for the early parts: the food, the gifts, you know, all that good stuff. As the sun started setting and the place started to thin out, things started to shift in another direction. What was once an innocent family gathering, was soon going to become a rowdy and drunken evening. I sat on a deck with good friends on both sides of me. In front of us was a table with leftover dinner items and various desserts. Next to the table there were two kegs. One keg with cream soda and the other with beer. My mind flashed back to that introductory experience.

I still remembered every nasty detail of those first few tastes. I couldn’t even finish that bottle, so I really wondered how this was going to go. A friend assured me that this would be much better, as beer from a keg is always better. I also remember hearing that it was an acquired taste, so I guess it got better with time. With those things in mind, I thought, “screw it”. It was go time.

I grabbed a red Solo cup and poured myself a drink. I took a small sip and let the taste dance around in my mouth and brain, as if I were at a fancy wine tasting event in Napa Valley, and not just some random grad party in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Much better. I could work with this, I thought. It wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, but way better tasting than that first one. I could most definitely finish this one, and probably a few more. As the night went on, I was also introduced to a flavored Leinenkugel’s. Holy shit. This was the ticket right here.

By my third drink, I started feeling a buzz and started to finally understand why people liked to do this. I forgot to mention, but this party also had a bouncy castle. This encouraged our rowdiness and became a highlight of the party. As I kept the drinks flowing, so did my friends. Buzzed became drunk pretty quickly. Lots of the events were hazy, but I do know there was lots of shouting and laughing, many trips to the bounce house, and at one point, I recall doing a bad Optimus Prime impression after finding a toy truck in the yard.

The next morning, I felt a little rough, yet at the same time, really great. That was how you kickoff a summer! My friends and I tried to piece together the evening as we woke and got ready for the day. We all had different recollections, but all agreed that we needed to do this again soon.

It wouldn’t take long before we did do it again, and again, and again. That particular summer didn’t have a ton of drinking opportunities for us, but things would change. I found out quickly how wrong I was about not seeing my friends anymore. Lots of my friends ended up going to school in state, and nearly all came back home for major holiday breaks.

Around this time, I wouldn’t have called myself a major drinker. The only time I would drink, would be if I went to an event that provided it. As previously stated, those opportunities were limited at first. I commuted to school and booze was pretty hard to come by. The Fall and Spring would have their moments, but by Summer of 2010, I was re-united with many of my close friends, and it was on. We were young and free, and ready to make some magical moments. There was no thought or fear that this could lead to anything negative. When you feel like you are on top of the world, I guess your brain doesn’t want to consider such things.

Part 3 – The Top of The World

Over the course of the next couple of years, my friends and I would become quite the party animals. We no longer just waited for drinking opportunities to present themselves to us, we created them. Drinking became the number one pastime. Nearly every weekend there was a house party or some other type of get-together where we could get up to all kinds of shenanigans. Each different party became a new story and memory for the data-bank. The bond between my group of friends seemed to be growing stronger than ever. Was it the alcohol? At the time, it sure seemed like that. I knew that even back then, I didn’t need it to have fun, and the same story-worthy, memorable moments happened before we discovered drinking, but it sure seemed to help amplify things.

One of my favorite memories from this era, was an overnight bonfire party in town. The bonfire party was a consecutive thing for a few years in a row, and tons of people attended each time. During one of those years, we’d end up getting our alcohol stolen and I would turn this story into a screenplay. The memory that I am speaking of though, was not that. It was actually a memory of the first time we attended. It was an evening where things just seemed to be going so right and I had felt like I was firing on all cylinders. I was all hopped up on a bunch of wine coolers, socializing with people that I usually never would’ve, thus giving myself a boost of confidence and esteem. Whether I was actually being smooth and coherent didn’t matter. In my head, I was doing great, and that made for a fantastic evening.

I was really enjoying my view from the top. I was a much more social person, I was having a great time, and much like that Summer of 09, it appeared that the world was still ahead of me. The problem was that time moves fast, especially if you are constantly in a drunken stupor with no real plan of action. Before you know it, you wake up one morning, look out your window, and you realize, “oh shit. That world isn’t looking so far ahead of me anymore.”

By the end of 2012 into 2013, I quote, unquote, took a break from school to figure things out. With the absence of schooling, I started working full time in retail hell. Often, I would feel pretty anxious and depressed, but I thought that it just came with the territory. I really wasn’t super concerned. It was most likely because of my job, I thought. I wouldn’t stay long and things would be all good again. After all, I had big dreams, damn it! I was going to be somebody! Everything was totally fine. Besides, the bad feelings weren’t always there. On weekends, I was still having the time of my life. People were still around, there were plenty of parties to be had, and I had started a little podcast called Media Pod Smash with one of my friends from retail hell. It was around this time that I also found out about a little thing called Nicotine, which helped to ease some of my weekly tensions.

Most weekends, I found myself still going to a lot of college parties, as even though I had quit, my friends were much better decision makers and continued to attend. I recall lots of various evenings partying in dorms or roaming the streets hopping from house to house, meeting all sorts of wacky characters. These types of parties introduced me to lots of different people and experiences. With those experiences came new substances to try. On top of the alcohol and nicotine, I also ended up trying [REDACTED], as well as [REDACTED], a few times. College was a time for experimenting, right? Even if I wasn’t actually attending anymore myself.

Not once during any of this, did I think that I had a problem, or was heading toward one. To me, it was all gravy, baby! I still had big ambitions and goals and just had a feeling that it was going to be all good. Plus, everyone around me was doing the exact same thing. This was just what young people were supposed to do, I thought. This was a phase that we would burn ourselves out of eventually and then really start our lives. I don’t know why I had myself fooled like this when there were so many indicators that things weren’t right. The fact that I had gotten myself hooked on nicotine was an indicator, random long benders during extended periods of time off was definitely an indicator. Some nights before an early shift of work, I’d drink and try to power through the next day with little to no sleep. Uh, yeah, that was an indicator too. These things should’ve been signs that change was in order, but again, I was too high up at the top of my own little world. I wasn’t reading any signs.

Eventually, lots of exciting new life changes started happening. Not exactly to me, but all around me. College was coming to an end for just about everyone and many of my close friends got married. Folks were ready to move on and mature. We would still all be really good friends, but it appeared that the days of going hard and partying all night long, were coming to an end.

I wasn’t ready to accept this; not just yet. I stood up in defiance and looked out over the metaphorical ledge. I still loved the view from up here, however, unbeknownst to me, the foundation that I stood upon was slowly starting to deteriorate. When the foundation would no longer support me, that was it. No back-up platforms, no parachute. A scary and intense free fall to the bottom. No matter how much control I thought I had, a dive was coming, and when you go from all the way to the top of the world to the bottom of a pit in a relatively short time, the impact really fucking hurts, man.

By the Summer of 2016, the shit had really hit the fan. At this point, just about everyone had moved on. I managed to make it out of retail, but I had a ton of other issues that I faced. I was still hopelessly addicted to nicotine gum, I was drinking all the time, and if you recall from the essay where this all started, I was at my all time highest weight and could no longer fit into my favorite orange button up shirt. The podcasts and other media projects that I was working on had all been abandoned. I rarely felt inspired and was lucky if I could just muster up a couple paragraphs in a notebook. What had I become? This wasn’t supposed to be how life ended up for me. Just a few years ago, we were flying so high.

The indicators that I missed previously, were not lost on me this time. I knew that I needed to fix my shit or the consequences would be dire. To my credit, I did do that, kinda. Over the course of the next year, I slimmed back down through diet and slowing way down on the drinking. I thought that I had successfully figured things out, and was ready to go back to business. I could relaunch the pod, start writing again, whatever else! I’d get back on track in no time and join my friends in some wonderful conversations about all those crazy times. I’d look back and be happy with how much I’d grown, hell, maybe I’d even write a book about all my experiences.

I was wrong, way wrong. I was able to feel good about my small achievements for a short while, but I never got to the root of why I had gotten into the situation that I found myself in, in the first place. There was no reflection at all, really. There were just some actions that acted as a band-aid over a massive gash. I thought that I had pulled myself up from the bottom, but in all reality, just built a temporary platform to stand on. Like the first, much higher platform that I once stood on, this one was also deteriorating. It wouldn’t be long before, poof! No more platform and a fall back down to the bottom.

Part 4 – The Bottom of The Pit and Beyond

Between 2017 and 2018, things remained pretty steady. I thought I was doing pretty well, even though a lot of my bad habits remained. I still continued to chew nicotine gum, didn’t have the greatest mindset, and though it did slow, the drinking continued. The band-aid was peeling off and the cold, reality of my situation was about to smack me in the face.

In order to avoid retreading too much on things that I already wrote about, I’ll try and plow through the next couple years. To prevent what I thought would soon be a repeat of that Summer of 2016, I quit chewing the nicotine gum. To many people, this probably doesn’t sound all that significant. To me, it was an Earth shattering, life changing event. It had quite a hold on me and the decision that I made to leave it behind was enormous.

I quit cold turkey. At the beginning, I was a miserable son of a bitch who had lots of struggles, but I held on tight and never gave up. As time progressed, so did I. With each step up the metaphorical ladder of growth, I gained more clarity and confidence in myself. Soon, I didn’t even think about the gum anymore. Instead, I became focused on the familiar views from the top of the ladder.

In the background of my battle, there were some very tragic personal things going on, however, I’d felt that I was coping with everything very well. I became a more active person, had tons of energy, and was generally just feeling really good about my whole situation. Like the band-aid of dieting and slowing down my alcohol consumption during the end of that wild summer all those years ago, the act of quitting the gum and getting active was just a temporary fix. This time, it was a much better and stronger band-aid, but there were still some other issues being covered up.

Just before hitting the year mark of no nicotine, I experienced the loss of my Mom. Shortly after that, the entire world experienced Covid. A spiral started to happen. It was very subtle at first. There were a few insane nights out and some miserable mornings that followed. Eh, who cares about that. I was doing all the right things in every other aspect of life. Besides, I was in pain. If there was ever a time for a free pass, surely it was right here and now, right? Of course, I know how wrong that is. Everyone goes through shit all the time. You still have a responsibility to be present and give it your all. You don’t get a free pass to act on whatever foolish desires that you have just because you have been dealt a bad hand in life.

In the ensuing months, things continued to get worse. Some nights I’d go out, come home after bar close, wake up the next morning from my stupor, and barely remember a thing. Sometimes I felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. I’d continue to mark the days on my calendar, but there were no achievements to celebrate or anything noteworthy to write down in any of the tiny, daily boxes. I actively kept a journal going around this time and most of the entries would be me pleading with my self to slow down or stop altogether. I was heading down a terribly destructive path and I knew it, but I just couldn’t stop. I sought out advice from others at times, even though I knew exactly what the answer was. The best way to alievate the shame and awfulness that I was going through was to get to the source. I had to rip the band-aid right off. I needed to look inward and examine my feelings, my motivations, my pain. I needed to get to know myself all over again, even if it wasn’t always pretty at times.

There was no big ah-ha moment that lead me to finally quitting, just the knowledge that I had already done something similar with the nicotine gum. I was also just getting really tired. I was going to be entering into my 30’s and I knew that time was ticking. I couldn’t let my legacy be that I was just some apathetic loser who tried to do some stuff once, failed, and never tried again. I still had a chance to right the ship, and even though my life was not what it once had been, nor would some aspects ever be the same, I became motivated. I thought of my Mom and all of her struggles. She did her best to give me a wonderful life in spite of everything she faced and the least I could do was honor her by being the best person that I could be.

Quitting was no easy task. I didn’t experience a lot of the physical stuff that came with quitting nicotine, just a lot of mental stuff mostly. My biggest struggle was in figuring out what I would do with my newfound time and in figuring out who I really was now. Much of my identity had been this heavy drinking party guy for so long. Now what?

With each new day, I started to learn some things about myself. I began finding fulfillment in more simple things. Something like a contemplative walk on a beautiful day was fulfilling to me. What became the biggest time filler in my alcohol free life, was doing creative projects again. Throwing myself into a project that I cared about was extremely fulfilling. I didn’t and still don’t care if anything that I do ever finds a huge audience. It would surely be nice, but I do it selfishly. Every recorded audio, video, or written piece has allowed me to express myself and bring me lots of joy in ways that I never thought I could obtain without the help of a substance.

On top of the simple and creative things, I found new meaning and appreciation in relationships in life. Throughout my 20’s I took a lot of friendships for granted. I expected consistency without putting in a lot of the effort that relationships need in order to flourish. I still am not perfect with this, but I have identified the important people in my life that have helped me and will continue to try my best to maintain those relationships and let them know that they are meaningful to me.

As I sit here today, I’m almost two years alcohol free. I didn’t think that I’d ever be able to say that. There were times where it seemed like even going a couple days in a row would be quite a feat. I’m not going to lie, I still think about it sometimes. I often paint negative pictures of my experiences with substances, but there was lots of fun moments too. I do miss the wild adventures sometimes, though I don’t plan on going back to that life. If I want to achieve all the crazy things on my list of to-dos before the end and continue to honor my Mom’s legacy, I simply can’t.

About a week ago at the time of this writing, I got to see some dear friends of mine. We all decided to meet in the very lovely town of Lake Geneva at a wine bar. I know what you’re thinking, “oh no. Is this going to have some horrible twist ending?” Quite the contrary.

There was no pressure from anybody at all, in fact, lots of support. I didn’t ever feel like I needed to partake in the drinking with everyone else. I drank my N/A option and remained present in the moment. We told stories and shared many laughs. It was like I had stepped into a time machine and nothing had changed. I had finally felt like I had achieved the thing that I was looking for during all of those many hazy nights in the past; self-acceptance. I sat at the table and felt secure. I knew who I was and I really like me. I’m still really flawed, but we as humans all are. I know that every day I’m attempting to be a little bit better than I was, and that’s what matters. When I arrived home after this group hangout, I felt like I was back on top of the world. Only this time, the foundation that I stood upon was much, much more solid.

An undeniable truth that I now believe, is that no matter how bleak the situation seems, you have the power to pull yourself back up from the darkness. You have an inner ability that can cause ripples and inspire others. You can change the fucking world. At times it’ll be really hard and seem like life is throwing everything that it has at you, but if you stand tall and put up the best fight of your life, for your life, you’ll make it. Trust me.

Media Pod Smash off!

-Jeremy

This week I take a dive back into the vault and look at two different clips. Clip one is a discussion about the film we tired to make from 2011 and clip two is some bonus content from just a few episodes ago.

Hope you enjoyed some of those old memories! Next week will be a scripted episode if all goes to plan. Stay tuned!

-Jeremy

This week I get visual! The topic of Halloween is discussed, I give a studio tour, and more!

Here’s the video version:

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Music Credit: Karl Casey @ WhiteBatAudio
Additional FX and Music: Storyblocks

That’s all for now! Hope you enjoyed this break from format. We’ve got lots more coming your way soon!

-Jeremy

This week, Ryan and I discuss April Fools, frustrating games, I introduce a couple new segments, and more!

Hope you enjoyed this week’s more traditional type of episode. Stay tuned for a special announcement coming later this weekend!

-Jeremy

In addition to the small steps scripted episode, please enjoy this companion pod! In this special episode, I talk about the good old days of trying to be a flash artist, I attempt to pitch an ad, and we look to the future!