Sports!

29. Sports!

I feel so excited to write about sports for some reason. I don't even like them. It's probably because, amongst all of this political drama and tension, sports are still kicking. Sports are one of the great consistencies in America, along with cancer awareness and alcoholism.

I played sports as a kid, just like most other boys. Baseball and Soccer were my two, and for a time I loved them both dearly. I loved the competition, but I think more than that I enjoyed the drama of it all. I liked how every game was it's own story, created naturally, without anyone knowing the outcome until it happens. It was cool feeling the tension of a close game, or the thrill of a comeback victory. For baseball, it was seeing one of my teammates get a go ahead RBI. In soccer, it was seeing a teammate score a goal as I watched from my firm place on the bench.

I started to fall off these sports in my adolescence. I didn't work hard enough. I learned that lesson through my failures as an athlete, along with many others. It taught me how to stay humble around those of lesser skill, and how to learn from the greats. It taught me teamwork, of course, but also leadership, both from the side of being a leader and from being lead. Sports are so incredibly important for a persons development. Ask any athlete, even those who stopped playing after high school, and they'll tell you that they wouldn't be the same person without their sport. I'm grateful for my time playing and how my family urged me to stick with it as long as I did.

With all these benefits, I forgot to mention how it's simply good for our health to go out and play.

But there's a point where it's no longer play, and that's the other aspect of sports that we love so much, we know that every successful athlete has a crazy amount of work into what they do. They've trained for countless hours, felt heartbreak time after time, and finally reached their goal of being a professional. We don't have this on our minds all the time, it's a predisposition we have at this point. But every once in awhile someone will say "Man, aren't these people incredible?" and you can't help but smile and nod.

They've worked so hard for their dream, so now they go out on the field for the noble cause of bringing pride and happiness to their fans. They go out and contribute to a story, and every day dozens of real life stories are created for millions of people. They inspire kids to follow their own dreams of being a professional athlete and to try their best at whatever they do. Also, it's entertaining as shit.

Sports are important to our relationships. It gives people ammunition for small talk, spirited debate, and others for their careers in commentary or analysis. It brings communities together to root for their team. Sometimes people having nothing in common more than their love for sports, and that alone can dominate conversation for hours on end. Without the distraction of sports, all we would talk about would be politics.

And maybe make some progress on that...

Wait, maybe that's not so bad. Do we ... actually... need sports?

Now I'm imagining a world without sports. It doesn't actually seem that bad. Kids would need something to do, so maybe they would be urged to take up an instrument or theatre or maybe even read. God forbid!

Now we have a world full of young artists, along with enlightened, truth seeking adults. Exercising is less fun, but Kan Jam is at an all time high. Beer sales are lower, people from New England are humble, and the Olympics are lame as shit. Cooperstown becomes a terrible place to live, and all of upstate NY suffers.

Without sports, would America suffer more from obesity or less? Honestly, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. I don't remember the last time I saw an obese man make a jump shot. Sports aren't part of their day.

 Now, what if instead of sports never existing we just banned it today. Playing anything more legitimate than ping pong is punishable by death.

I know what people would say. "Really? With this obstructionist congress?" But it passed, and there's nothing we can do other than get used to this new life. And it would probably lead to greatness all over as Americans stop getting distracted over silly teams and scores and start remembering they have friends to talk to and kids to feed. All sports more legitimate than ping pong are banned, so of course that hobby starts picking up and we can begin to compete with china for best in the world. Also, Woman's basketball made the cut, so they begin a golden era that brings sexual equality for the rest of human existence. Good for them!



P.S

Word, I got some actual traction with an idea and didn't skimp out after my first premise. I got some actual comedy writing in this part too, which is an improvement from my other entries. Am I... improving as a writer?!?!

I need to go home and eat food though. Next time I'm gonna eat breakfast so I have the energy to write for the full hour. This probably wasn't good enough to be the first post that I share, but I think it might be one I go "if you want check out that one also" or something. I don't know. I'm done now



Words I learned to spell: Teammates, adolescence, existence.
First try: Obstructionist

Routine and Habits

I didn't draw for this one. I just felt it was relevant and I wanted to write about it.

For the past week I've had a pretty solid morning routine that I would like to keep going. I get up before 11, Drink my coffee and visit the Jon immediately after, walk to the library while playing Pokemon Go, write in this blog, then walk home. That's a good habit to get into, it gets my blood moving, it gets me writing, and the library is right on top of a Pokestop (Pause to collect). If I do this every day for the rest of my life then I think I'd be able to make it as a writer, I really do. It makes me think about the rest of my day and how I can improve it, also.

Melee, as I've said, is an important part of my life. It's such a hard game though, both physically and mentally, that it requires some strenuous training in order to become the best. About 2 weeks ago I made a Facebook post challenging smashers to join me in two hours a day of training, and non smashers to two hours a day of practicing their passion. I don't want to brag, but it got a shitload of likes. I was raking them in, man.

Since then, I havn't practiced every day. I have had some days with more than two hours, though, so I think it's averaged out, but it's been hard sometimes to find the drive to practice. The game is fun, but training all of the maneuvers requires focus and patience through any failure. This passed Monday I did poorly at a tournament, and when I sat down to practice the next day I got so frustrated that I punched my controller and hurt my hand. It wasn't serious, but it was enough to stop playing for the day. That's a habit I wish not to get into.

I train more days than I don't, and that's something I should be proud of. I write most days, too. With both of these challenges I've put on myself I find there's possibility for failure and frustration. Writer's block is a real thing and it sucks. Playing on tilt in smash could ruin the game for somebody. As much as I would like to find an easy path to success, I'm starting to realize that easy paths just don't exist. A relationship is going to have fights, a comedian is going to bomb. Athletes have slumps and anyone in any profession makes mistakes that could cost them their job. Humans kind of suck, and that's terrifying.

Whenever I look back at my childhood and think of my 'career' as a baseball player, I wish that I did a bunch of things different. I wish that I truly cared to get better. I wish I ran and swung on the tee and had a catch every day. I imagine how good I could have been if I worked just an hour a day at becoming a better athlete. I don't think I would have been a professional baseball player, but that work ethic would definitely have spilled into other aspects of my day. A couple of homework assignments would have been cake compared to the three miles I ran in the morning. Practicing smash for two hours? At least my arms would be sore afterwards. I didn't try as a kid and teen, so now I'm working on developing habits.

If my father ever reads this he's gonna laugh. He's been saying this shit to me for a long time.  I didn't listen, of course, and here I am, writing about my regrets. Thanks dad, at least I realized eventually.

 So where do we go from here? There are so many things I want to be better at, so do I just make my day revolve around practicing everything I like to do? Honestly, that doesn't sound so bad. If I write every day(comedy, rap, and this blog), practice smash, work out, and get through my obligations then there's no way I can end up with a bad life. I guess the question then is, can I make money off doing any of these things so I don't need to spend 8 hours a day not improving.

Right now, my dream job is to be a comedy writer, so the first step is to be an intern I guess. It would lead me to making connections in the business where I can work on scripts or other significant pieces of work. It would lead me to a job where I don't feel like I'm working. Most importantly, it would force me to get into a routine of writing. Every day I would need to show up and start grinding, doing my best to come up with material and search through my head for the good stuff. God damn, that would be so great. I just gotta land that internship!

So this was another train of thought post, and again, I'm happy I wrote it. I know nobody is going to read this for a long time, and that gives me a sense of peace. I'm still a long ways away from a full month of entries, but at least I made it through a week and change.

How ironic would it be if this were my last post?

See you all tomorrow, nobody.


First Try: Maneuvers

Fraternity

1. Fraternity.

I need to make this one quick, the library is kicking everybody out in 15 minutes. Speed blogging!

I joined my fraternity, Phi Kappa Psi, in Spring of 2014. Like nearly everybody else in the frat, I didn't think I would ever join Greek life before college started. I had no idea what it was, and had no real interest in insane parties and crazy amounts of sexual opportunities. Actually, I did, but I didn't actively think about it.

I'll leave out the story of why I joined and just say that it was pretty much on a whim. I knew that there would never be another opportunity to pledge a fraternity in my life, and most of the kids were cool. I wanted to experience everything college life had to offer, and this seemed like a good way to do it.

If anyone reading this is going into college and is thinking about joining a fraternity or sorority, they have a couple of things to think about. First, you are not going to instantly become friends with everyone in the organization. It's unreasonable to believe that 50 other people are going to be 1. Nice enough to hang out with if you don't have common interests and 2. Not complete racists. Usually, just based on raw statistics, around 2 out of 50 people are complete shitheads. You will have to get used to them or not bother joining.

Also, shit is expensive. I pay around $430 every semester to stay around these shitheads. A lot of the time I don't regret it, but every time I need to give a paycheck to our treasurer I rethink things, at least a little. Parties, women, a replenishing supply of friends and a large amount of career opportunities are great, but I like money too. Just another sacrifice you need to consider.

Lastly, make sure you're joining the right organization. I think I got lucky with picking mine, but I also knew to an extent what I was getting myself into. These guys were diverse, proud gentlemen, and funny. The ideals they were chasing were what I wanted to chase as well. Every once in a while, when the entirety of us are in one place, drinking and having a good time, I get tears in my eyes. I can talk shit about my brothers all day long, but I know that when push comes to shove they have my back. It is an amazing thing to finally call people brother after not having a brother of my own for my childhood. I'm happy to be a part of everything.

aaaand that's my time! A 15 minute train of thought piece that I hope didn't come out too bad, cause I don't have time to read it or go back to see what words I learned how to spell. I'll revisit this topic too, hopefully.

Be back tomorrow for a longer piece, and hopefully more time to write some comedy.

Middle School

*Written Wednesday, 7/27, at my girlfriend's house. She bothered my while I wrote this*

15. Middle school. Oooohhh god.

It's a universally hate time of our lives, but going in to It we had no idea what to expect. We were ignorant. Some of us were even excited. Then we started the most awkward stage of our lives.

I don't think my experience was different than many others'. I was a quiet kid with a small group of friends and childlike hobbies. I liked video games, but not the 'cool' games like Call of Duty and Halo. I liked sports, but wasn't very good at them, missing the cut for the team in 7th grade for both soccer and lacrosse. I got good grades, which was even further a detriment to my popularity.

Popularity is a strange concept. It's important to essentially every child from ages 9-16. In the media it's always shown as unimportant and overrated, but ask any middle schooler and they'll disagree. People say they don't care, but I'm sure 90% of adults under 35 could recite the entire popular clique in their school. It's insane how much we valued being liked.

Middle school is when these feelings were at its peak. Everyone was coming into their sexuality, but some matured faster than others. The kids with the biggest boobs and biggest muscles took their place on the top of the ladder. This lay the foundation for the social hierarchy that would carry into high school.

Popularity had a paradoxical nature to it. Those who wanted it most seemed to never get. Those who had it acted aloof and unaware that there was even a popular group. It dominated the entire atmosphere of the school, what we did, what we thought about, who we considered below or above us. It was an unspoken system that everyone was aware of.

I like to think that I didn't care too deeply about popularity, but I'm sure that I did. I didn't have too many friends, as I had lost some to the chase of popularity. Long story short, my dad was/is a children's music songwriter and performer, and my childhood friends began smoking weed, so I was left out from then on in. I tried desperately to remain friends with them, so for a short time I ran with some kids I really shouldn't have. I was still incredibly timid, though, so I stayed out of any drug or alcohol usage. I was a pretty lame kid to have around.

My grades were great my first year, but soon my priorities shifted to everything else except hard work. I started putting more time into video games and began learning how to get by with minimum effort and attention. 7th and 8th grades were not very successful, so I started high school at a level I probably shouldn't have been in. They said studying mattered and I didn't listen. I guess they were right.

Looking back, though, it's hard to feel like I had a bad experience. That's probably because everyone had a shitty time in middle school. The hot, popular kids didn't have perfect lives. The 'loser' kids ended up going to amazing universities and have great careers ahead of them. We all made it out just fine.

Middle school matters so little, but everything that happens inside it is the most important and drastic thing that's ever happened. With hormones flying and sexualities budding we have no control over anything, including our voices. It really sucked, and I hope I stop having dreams about it, but it's important not to forget what happened when we were twelve. It was the end of our childhood, and the beginning of our adult lives. And, most importantly, the time most of us would like to never remember again. Maybe I should have put a trigger warning at the top.

Levity Live

It picked 26. Levity live, my workplace.

I hope that this ends up being good publicity and I don't end up getting fired. I think I'm smart enough to not get fired.

Levity Live is a comedy club in West Nyack, in the Palisades mall. I started working there last summer, loved it, and came back this summer to work again. If you ever get the chance to work in a comedy club, you should definitely take it.

The application process was easy (they had open interviews every week) and a couple weeks later I was notified that I got the job. It was exciting, but I realized quickly how hard my summer would be. I was also working at a day camp as a counselor, then I had to quickly get to the club to work the night. It was tiring, but I liked Levity so much that it made it worthwhile.

 I'm an aspiring comedian, so my attraction to the job is pretty obvious. I get to see different comedians come in every week and pretty much get paid to study their sets. The diversity is great, but I think what's better is that I get to see the same set get performed 3-5 times in a weekend. That sort of exposure is way more valuable, as I witness these top level, professional comedians work out kinks in their sets and experiment with their material. It's one thing to see Kevin Hart do a show at a stadium, but to see up and coming comedians work out fine details in their writing and delivery gives much better insight into how to be a better comic. It's just a great learning experience all around.

Better still is the work environment. I think it stems from comedy being showed every night, but the way my coworkers get along is really amazing. When we clock in for our shift, we have about an hour and a half before people start showing up to see the show. Setting up the showroom is easy, so there's a lot of socializing going on. We crack jokes, talk about music, make fun of each other, and generally just keep the whole mood very light. No comedian has taken the stage, but comedy is definitely happening in the showroom. It's very easy to make friends at this club.

I also find myself wanting to be a bigger part of this machine. Everyone my age wants a real job, and if I could get a good job inside the comedy world then I can be on a path to make a lot of my dreams come true. That sounds super lame and cushy, but it's definitely a possibility. I don't know, shit. Just a thought.

I don't really have too much else to talk about. It's my job, at least for the summer, and it's a lot of fun. I know that I'm gonna look back and remember how much fun it was to get paid to watch comedy. It doesn't pay too much, but I don't have too many expenses, so it's fine. This job goes perfectly with my lifestyle at this point... which probably means I'm going to have to move on some point soon. Maybe if that happens I'll make a goodbye blog post or something. Or just cry.

I'm gonna try to write a bit of a comedy now, you know, actually further my career. Here's to hoping it doesn't suck.

A domani





Words I learned to spell: Counselor.
First try: Socializing

Family

I had nothing too relevant that I wanted to write about, so I randomly generated a number 1-30, got the number 4, which is family. I guess its as good a time as ever.

*Disclaimer: If any of my family ever reads this, know that I love you dearly. Even if I make fun of you a lot. Still love you.*

I'll start with my parents, and the fact that they're divorced. They "officially" split up when I went to college, but my sisters and I knew they were going downhill for several years prior. It was cool of them to stick it out until I went away for school, but I could see that they were both miserable in that house. It was time for them to go their separate ways.

I always like to say that they were amazing parents, but terrible spouses. I hope I'm not being too brutal when I say they loved their kids way more than they loved each other. They were supportive of us, going to all of our sporting events or performances, even going as far as sitting with each other for the sake of their children. That was the biggest sacrifice they made for us, and I'm forever grateful.

When they split up was just about the time I started performing stand up comedy, so for about a year I would mention it about every time I got onstage. I think that I sort of ignored how much it impacted me for a good while, but whenever I performed those jokes it was still a cathartic experience. When I went home for the first time and realized how different life would be living with just one parent, it hurt a bit less because I've been putting it out there for so long. Now, three years later, it's just a fact of life and it's all gucci.

One big reason I think they split is because of political differences. Dad's a democrat, Mom is a republican. They both talked about it, and it lead to some pretty tense living at home. My advice to anyone getting married to someone on the other side of the political coin: Either don't get married OR never talk to each other. Also, never watch the news with each other, or any other type of controversial media. Don't share opinions, or even thoughts. Don't eat together. Sleep in separate beds. In separate houses. With different spouses. Just don't get married.

ANYWAY let's talk about my siblings. I have two sisters, no brothers. Having two older sisters as a boy is pretty interesting. I definitely fit the bill of annoying younger brother, but I think there's good reason why. I didn't talk a lot, and that's because they talked all the time. It was pretty hard to get attention, honestly. I slowly realized that if I wanted attention from my parents, aunts, uncles etc. that I would need to be a little bit annoying. I'm the youngest out of my cousins as well, so any efforts to be genuinely funny were seen as a desperate and annoying grab for attention. Probably because they were exactly that.

I had kind of a split personality because of that. I had a yearning inside of me to make everyone around me laugh. I loved the feeling of landing a joke, even from a young age. But I was younger than all my family, so I was usually shut down any time I tried. They were tough critics, and I eventually developed tough skin, but before that happened I struggled with self esteem. I flip flopped between happy, energetic class-clown-wanna-be to a reclusive video game playing outcast. Then I became close to my role model to this day, my cousin Craig.

I remember the day he was first nice to me. Having 6 years on me, and being an angry teenager when I was an annoying child who idolized him, it makes perfect sense that he constantly pushed me away from him. He's the closes male cousin to me in terms of age, so whenever there was a family gathering the adults would encourage, maybe even force, him to hang out with me. He wanted to hang out with the cousins closer in age to him, so of course he's gonna resent me a little bit.

This went on for a couple of years, until I decided that he just didn't like me and gave up. One night, around thanksgiving time, I was on my computer playing video games when Craig gets home after spending the night with the older crew. I was playing Warcraft 3, a game we both enjoyed, and he comes over to me to see how I'm progressing. I made a save file, named "bob is cool". I entirely expected him to call me stupid, or just scoff and walk away, but he just smiled and said "yes, he is". I still remember that about 14 years later. Me and Craig are still close, playing games with each other on occasion.

I could talk more about more cousins on my mother's side, my grandparents, the entirety of the Gardners, but I think I'm gonna stick with this long enough to get to that eventually. This was more of a therapeutic entry than a comedic one, but it got me writing all the same, so I'm happy with it. I got a tournament tonight, where I hope to get revenge on a particular Samus player...

See y'all tomorrow.



Words I learned to spell: separate (I'm an idiot), therapeutic
First try: genuinely

The League

*Written On Sunday, July 24th, 2016. Delayed posting due to lack of computer. Nobody cares*

After not seeing each other for half a year, the league has finally come together again, at 3/5ths power, to combine our brain power into one, then divide the power of one brain equally among the group. "Knowledge is power, but being a fucking moron is fun." - Confucius probably.

Our intelligence declines with each others company. Unless Zak is there. We all want to impress zak.

Let's take a step back. We all met around 11th grade. What's kept us together was probably the fact that we built a friendship on the foundation of sobriety. We were in high school, so getting fucked up was on most people's interests. But to have friends around to just hang out with, play pool or video games without needing beer, that's when real friendships are made.

So now, when we do get fucked up, it's that much more fun.

A bro is someone you'd meet at a bar. A friend is someone who would DD for you. A best friend is the dude daring you to ask for wet naps with the mozzarella sticks. There are no other friends like the league. We are bros, and friends, and best friends.

We're also fucking morons. Oh my god we are so stupid.

We have a governing system in place to make sure we are good friends to each other. If you do something shitty, like prioritize other friends too much or stay at home because ur not feeling it, then you will be put on probation. What a time that is, man. Probation is usually declared onto a league member by another member who feels wronged. In order to get off of probation, you must write an apology letter and have it be signed by one of the victims parents. It's always hilarious. It's definitely the stupidest thing we do, but we need to do it. There is no consequence for being on probation, hell, it even has a six month sentence. But it hurts all the same to be placed onto it. To be a league member on probation is to be a less-than. It's a matter of ego and self worth. Very important. But stupid.

We're not stupid enough to get in trouble, which is good. I should clarify, we are definitely stupid enough to get arrested, we just aren't proactive enough. We're pussies and we're proud.

The league is stupid because we listen to each other and then contribute more to whatever were talking about. That's usually followed by a noise or deteriorating into piss poor Brooklyn accents and saying more stupid shit. We'll talk about stealing a stop sign and sliding down the street, but we'd never do it. We are gentlemen... but we're also immature. We're boys. Gentleboys. Dumbass Gentleboys. I kinda like that.

I'll go into each member specifically another time. There's plenty more to write about regarding the league, how stupid we all are as individuals, but I'll save that for another time. Maybe next time we all assemble I'll take notes. Or maybe I'll track down Joe's apology letter to Georges mom...

Words I learned to spell: Confucius, mozzarella, pussies
First try: deteriorating

Wild night!!!

Right now I'm stuck between writing about partying and smash. They're both topics I want to write about at some point, and they're both relevant from last night. I did write yesterday that SSBM is one of the most important things in my life right now, but I think partying might be a bit more fun.

On the other hand, there is no way I'm going to write about every one of my partying experiences on a public forum like this. I'd have to pull it back a few notches, just to make sure my family doesn't disown me and future bosses look at me like I'm exactly the idiot that I am.

Fuck it, lets give it a shot.

Let's start with last night and work backwards. It was the first time I've gotten drunk as a 21 year old. First time legally wasted. I could have went to a bar, and feel that overwhelming tension collapse as I'm allowed in with no trickery or acting involved. No memorizing street names or zip codes, no overcompensating eye contact, no high fives when on the inside followed by lowering our heads and making a B-line for the bar. It would have been a milestone, an iconic moment that I managed to avoid on my birthday.

Instead, I invited people over for a smash fest. I think that was the better choice.

Ask any college kid, competitive smasher or not, and they'll say that beer and smash go together better than freshmen and lanyards. The competition, the satisfaction of each hit, the camaraderie, everything about this game is improved by pouring booze on top. Except for skill. Your skill gets way worse.

So people came over and we did our thing. It was low key, beer and pizza and smash, exactly my type of party. We had 7 people there at most, very easy to manage. But sometimes parties aren't that easy.

At school I live in a frat house. Funny enough, it's the only frat house on campus. I won't say whether or not we hold parties for legal reasons, but occasionally we have mixers, and sometimes the mixers turn into blenders. I hope the metaphor makes sense.

These par- err, blenders, are made for single people. Imagine the whole dance area like a Lindor truffle. Everyone in a relationship is the hard chocolate. They make up the lining of the whole ordeal, staying in one spot, set in their ways. They're important to the integrity of everybody else, as they're usually staying sober or else they're risking a fight later, and therefore can handle any fall, nip slip, or a makeout session with a 4.

Everyone who's single is the molten inside of the chocolate. That's where the fun is; that's what people come for. These are the troopers requesting risky songs from the DJ. They're the ones testing out what furniture can be climbed on. They're the ones odds-ing each other to take off clothes and sleep with the 4. Getting finger blasted in the bathrooms. Meeting friends and organizing after parties. All the gooey inside fun. Fuck, that's when the metaphor gets disgusting. But that's probably just because I'm cuffed. A single person would love to be called gooey. That horny fuck.

Without single people, a party becomes a gathering. Gatherings fucking suck. A gathering is like five M&ms.  A gathering is where you try to split a six pack between four people, or a twelve pack among seven. A gathering is where you worry about your classes and homework so much that you misplay in cards against humanity. It's where you all take turns being DJ until someone's like "Oh i have Spotify premium I can just do whatever and press next on queue" and everyone nods then someone goes "Oh it's 9 already can we watch America's Got Talent?" and everyone nods then the first person is like "But I'm putting on music, should I keep on the music and put it low or just not play it anymore?" And nobody wants to get involved and risk ruining the atmosphere. Just put it on during commercials, you think to yourself, but you don't say anything because you're a pathetic bystander destined to live in social obscurity and drive home the fun people at the end of your shitty night.

I don't miss being single at all.

Anyway, that's how I feel about parting. I won't go into drugs or sexual experiences, but use your imagination. I'm writing a fucking blog, do you think I have a lot of good stories to tell?

Peace and love. I'm gonna go hatch some eggs and work to be a melee master. I'll check in tomorrow.




First Try:Alcohol
Words I learned to spell: Camaraderie, furniture, disgusting
Shoutouts to that dank semicolon. 

Let's start with me

The ol' introduction post has two parts! Hold the excitement, hold the applause.

Usually, people will begin with saying their name, then go on to hobbies, goals, favorite blanks, then a silly anecdote or some shit, and then finally end it nicely by wrapping it up with a clever conclusion and a cute reference to their quirky day's plans. I'm gonna do exactly that.

My name is Jesse Donald Gardner. All throughout grades K-12 I went by Jesse, but when I got to college I decided to change things up a little bit. I was told once by my father that he thought J.D Gardner was a great baseball name, so that had some light influence as to my first and middle names. I turned out to be a painfully average baseball player, but I still liked the sound of that name. When I had my first day at Oneonta, I started introducing myself as J.D. Strangely enough, people started calling me that. Turns out, when you tell people to call you something, they will call you that. No background checks or investigations, just pure trust. I always thought when criminals fled to a new state and changed their names it was a long and complicated process. Turns out they just fuckin' lie.

So people started calling me J.D in school, and I felt that I was reborn into this new college identity. I made friends, I joined a fraternity, and just like that a solid amount of people knew my name. The problem is, my family and friends from home still call me Jesse. So I have two names.

BUT that's not all! I also am heavily invested in the Super Smash Bros Melee competitive community, where I am required by tradition to pick a pseudo-name or gamertag to use for tournaments. For this I chose the name Poonslayer7. I have had this name for two years. Some people in the community know me exclusively as Poonslayer. Those to whom i am more closely acquainted simply call me Poon. I like the name. But now I have three.

There you have it, three boring paragraphs on what people call me. If you met me as a certain name, don't feel the need to change what you call me. Unless you plan on calling me Poonslayer, which would be hysterical for my uncle or something to start doing. Just don't forget the 7, dick.

The smash bros scene might very well be the most important thing in my life right now, as strange as that is to say. I work harder at that than any other endeavor in my life. My current training regime is two hours a day, plus 8 minutes of stretching and any other time playing with other people. Melee is just that good, it's so difficult and strenuous, fun yet aggravating, physical and mentally difficult. It brings people together and has lead me to become close with two people I would call my best friends. If i could chose any career path, then this game would become involved. Maybe not as an elite player, but if i could be some sort of creative within the community then I wouldn't work a day in my life. That's how much i love this game.

I currently have a girlfriend, and she is pretty cool. We have similar senses of humor and taste in music, plus she tolerates my jokes and hobbies, so we get along just fine. Not much else to say about her. I hope she never reads this.

I am an inconsistent performer of stand up comedy, maybe on average twice a month I'll go on stage and try some stuff out. I love writing jokes and performing them in my head, but for whatever reason I can't nail it when I'm onstage. I've had some decent sets, but I am 100% an amateur comedian. I hope to get better, or at least find my calling with writing. Who knows, man.

I've also found a hobby in improvisational rap, as well as writing rap, and rapping. I discovered the hobby among friends who get wasted and make rap circles. I was always too afraid to step in, and for years i stayed on the sideline. One day I decided to try it alone in my car, and when the words began to flow i fell in love. Freestyling is an awesome exercise for the mind and mouth, and i recommend it to anybody pursuing a passion in writing or performing. Hip Hop is an amazing genre, and I hope to keep it with me for days to come. Expect some sort of song coming soon, I have a plethora of notes tucked away.

Here's the anecdote. Yesterday I was walking around my mall after work playing Pokemon Go and I caught a Machoke. I looked up and saw a couple of dudes standing around talking, one of them wearing a team mystic shirt. I go "yo, I just found a Machoke" and their eyes lit up. They started stammering, looking at each other, and pulling out their phones like a sheriff in a duel. Us trainers stick together, huh?

Anyway, that's all I got. I'm gonna walk home now, make a protein shake, practice my smash and do my daily chores. How exciting. I'll check back in tomorrow.


Words I learned to spell: Strangely, acquainted, aggravating, amateur
First try: endeavor, strenuous, improvisational

Why the hell am I doing this?

Ah man. I'm finally doing this. A blog.

Since blogs were first invented (by Steve Jobs, I think) they have been the butt of jokes from both mainstream and counter culture alike. Paradoxically, everybody had one, and everybody made fun of them.

I grew up with blogs being around, but never really interacted with them. To me, they were sort of like pistachio ice cream. I knew it existed, I'd never tried it, but I was confident that it was lame. And so, like so many other millennial minds, I ingrained an opinion based of a single thought, and kept that opinion for a decade. Until recently, the idea of starting a blog never crossed my mind.

The title of this blog is an attempt at productive creativity, which was made up minutes before i started this post but is growing on me. Productive creativity is a concept I struggle with every day as an aspiring comedian/writer/poet/rapper/whatever the fuck I want to do. The word "productive" is thrown around by everyone around me, peers, coworkers and bosses, my parents, and it haunts me in my own mind. Given a task, it is easy to be productive. Super easy. Just do your shit. The more abstract and vague the goal becomes, the harder it is to identify productivity. When it comes to producing something creative, it becomes an absolute shit-show.

I could go into previous attempts and failures at remaining productive, but I don't want to feel bad at myself. Let's just say that Pokemon Go has been an incredibly satisfying waste of life as of late, and leave it at that. I'm level 16 and team mystic, if anyone at all is reading this.

So this blog is going to be a challenge to myself. I will write in it every day for a month. Just one month, that's it. I have written out a list of topics to cover and hopefully I can make it interesting.

Mostly, this blog is not meant to be read by anybody. If it ever gets to the point where I feel it's content is good enough to share, then I might start advertising. Maybe. But I hope I don't end up sharing it at all, honestly. I want this to remain an exercise with the sole purpose of bettering myself.

So, that's my first entry. If this library computer had a webcam I would post a picture of myself crying into the shoulder of the strange man next to me. It doesn't, so use your imagination.

I think I'm gonna write one more today. This one doesn't count






Words I learned how to spell: Pistachio, Millennial.