The Drunk Note That Made Me Question Who I Was
Updated: Jun 16
After my most recent post, I took the usual time that I do to ignore the real job that pays me and focus that energy on a brainstorming session for my next article. Does that make me slouch? I don't know, would a slouch write in the one-word answer "Promotion." when asked on his quarterly self-review about where he saw himself with the company in 6-8 months? I wouldn't say so. Even if everyone else on his team hypothetically wrote well thought out, articulate answers focused on how they saw themselves growing and achieving their goals - I'm convinced that no amount of words will ever hold the same power that "Promotion." with a purposeful period at the end will.
Anyhow, I initially planned on bringing you, the reader, on a journey of what my typical writing process looks like. I mean, why not, am I right? I constantly see people using this word "platform" and how they're going to use it to spread their wealth of knowledge to the masses. Celebrities especially do this, but now, more and more, this buzzword appears from people who I don't give a shit about; People like Sean, from high school, who graduated with a 2.3 GPA and considers his 115 followers a "platform" to spread awareness about mental health and depression…everyday…6-8 times a day…a battle, mind you, that I'd argue he's losing right now.
Or Victor, who shares inspirational entrepreneur quotes accompanied by lion backdrops on his story in between shifts at Finish Line and Yankee Candle. "Well fuck," I thought "if Sean and Victor are positively using their platform, who says I can't use my abundance of writing knowledge (especially the grammar) and share it to all 41 of my Twitter followers?"
To help you peek behind the scenes, I started digging through my FaHoo notes, looking for the best example of how I turn an idea into an overextended, long-winded rant that they inevitably mutate into.
As I went deeper and deeper, I came to the stark realization that this wasn't something I could simply teach. The truth of the matter is that I have a gift from God. It's almost as though He reaches His hands down, opens my head while I'm sleeping, inserts a prewritten article, presumably fiddles with my privates as good Christians do (explains the wet dreams), and leaves me to put it on virtual paper. Take a look for yourself; my notes are already well thought out, highly intellectual, complex jokes that, that quite frankly, you'll never be able to match. Let me show you some screenshots to give you and idea of what I'm speaking about:
I can't stress the word intellectual enough.
That's the joke...
I'm still brewing something up for these assholes...
With how much I make fun of Jeeps, this note is like the never ending Gobstopper.
To be fair the album image is very small on a phone.
I have no excuse or reasoning for believing this was only a unique triangle with no meaning behind it. Technically it is a triangle, but technically I was 22 when I realized it was an eagle.
I standby this statement.
How did LeBron look 30 at age 15 but will look 32 until age 70?
I think my brilliance is pretty clear cut. I could go on and on, but at a certain point, it turns into gloating. I'm just saying, even with my last iPhone drowning in a tragic washing machine accident - taking all my previous notes with it - my shit is top-notch.
But then, as I continued to admire my genius, I came across one note so crude, so evil, that I'm embarrassed to admit I wrote it. If we're completely honest, I'm not even sure if I did. It's not uncommon for a blackout or concerningly high Bigleys to jot a note down and completely forget about it.
This note in particular, though, went too far. I love to write jokes and make fun of people, but I also don't try to make it malicious. This...this was malicious. It went far past the joking phase and straight into kill shot mode.
So please, I ask that you don't base my character off this one thing I said. It would have been safer for me to keep this to myself, but I feel dirty hiding it from an audience that's supported me for so long. As anxious as I am...
**Takes big breath**
Here it is:
I know: My stomach is in knots just looking at it. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ; What kind of a twisted, fucked up human being would say something like that? The inner demons that it takes to not only think this up but also take the time to write it down...
At this point, I don't know what to do. I've spent the past 48 hours staring into my bathroom mirror, questioning the kind of person I am. I've always made my fair share of poor people jokes, but do you know how expensive batteries are?
Maybe I should do some sort of sensitivity training. Are there virtual courses based around poor people problems? I'd consider a physical classroom, but I don't think my immune system could battle whatever diseases they're carrying. I'll have to take baby steps.
So, it's time I make it official: From here on out, I'll be taking the proper steps to improve myself as a human being. I hope that you continue to support me during this trying time, but I understand if you're no longer willing to stand behind someone like me.
Every day is a new day to grow and learn; I just hope you're doing the same. Please, if any of you are inspired by this and need advice on improving yourself, hit me up on Twitter. It's time to act as if what you do makes a difference. IT DOES. -William James. It's time that we come together and start being the change we want to see in the world. -Mahatma Gandhi. And when you fall into a hole like me, remember: stars can't shine without darkness. -D.H. Sidebottom.
Let's grow together, fam.