Life on hold

I am very unhappy with the state of my life and how endlessly difficult everything is right now, and I can’t see any lights at the ends of any tunnels to give me any sense of hope. 

And I don’t feel like there’s anyone I can talk to about it. 

The irony and benefit to having a brog that nobody but me reads is that I can basically say whatever I like and know that nobody’s going to see it.  Therapy might help, but that costs money and I’m short on that too, and it perpetuates this endless cycle of shit that sucks because of something, but that something is also caused by another thing, and so on and so on.

And like I said, I don’t see it getting any better any time soon, and that just feeds into the angst over and over again.  I’ve sacrificed so much, and there’s hardly anything left, and there are some days where I’m just out of everything.

My 600 Lb. Life needs to go into rebuilding mode

The other night, I logged into Max and went to My 600 Lb. Life, hoping that there would be a new episode posted.  Season 13 has been a clunker of a season, with no real standout participants for all the wrong reasons, and the show has always had a tendency to start and finish their seasons with the best or worse people. 

Episode 7 Juan was another forgettable episode, and I figured that there would have to be someone better to close out the season, but it’s never easy to tell how many episodes there are in these arbitrary seasons, because it’s never been consistent.  So after I logged in and checked in on the series, it became apparent that Juan was the last episode of the season, and mythical wife and I are just kind of like, oh..

Counting season 12, I think it’s safe to say that the series as a whole has put up two straight clunker seasons.  There have been no real memorable participants, and although it’s the guiltiest of pleasures to see when some of them turn into shitheads and fail spectacularly, an occasional success story is always welcome and leaves viewers like me feeling optimistic and satisfied for five minutes. 

But over the course of the last two seasons, there have been barely any successes, even fewer to actually succeed and get the weight loss surgery, and an increasing number of participants whom never even get to Houston and the episodes are these droll journeys of stock footage of Dr. Now wandering around his clinic or St. Joe’s Hospital lamenting at the dangers of being morbidly obese, and occasional video calls with participants where they’re all super eager to comply and participate, before they hang up and do jack shit.

I know the pandemic made TLC and the show have to pivot and allow for more remote participants, but what was the exception has gradually become normal, and the episodes where you just know that a big motherfucker ain’t going to step foot in Houston and actually get face to face with Dr. Now, where the real charm and magic of the show tends to happen.

In fact, S13E06 Deshaun was probably the most depressing episode of My 600 Lb. Life I’ve ever seen, and that’s really saying something considering the clinging to survival nature of the show as a whole.  The man from Omaha had no goals, no aspirations, no dreams, and no motivation whatsoever, with the closest thing to a want being, getting out of Omaha and going to fucking Missouri.  Like, when the place you want to end up going to is Missouri, you know the bar couldn’t possibly be buried under the ground any lower.

Unsurprising, he like loses no weight, dodges his weigh-ins, so we never get a number of his actual weight, dodges his virtual therapy sessions, is extremely difficult to get a hold of with Dr. Now, and by the time the episode ends, two months early, he’s completely fallen out of contact, and is speculated to have blocked Dr. Now’s office outright. 

As I’m watching this episode, I know all human life is precious and all that, but I genuinely was feeling like this is a person that really has no business, existing.  He probably draws disability, basically exists solely to eat trash and play video games and watch television, but he provides even less purpose to the world than inmates in prison, whom at least have to do some sort of labor to repay society.

I’d never been more depressed watching an episode of My 600 Lb. Life more than I have with Deshaun, and that’s a pretty bold proclamation because there have been episodes where the participants have actually died.

Frankly, I think the show really needs to go back to the drawing board with their format.  It genuinely feels like it’s been on auto-pilot for the last 4-5 seasons, but it’s easier to ignore when you get the occasional gem of a participant who is a total trainwreck, an ass to Dr. Now, which usually takes the shackles off of him to start zinging back, but then eventually goes to therapy, supercharges their mental health and they get on the train and actually lose some fucking weight.

But over the last few seasons, the show has basically been following a template.  Every episodes starts with the participant waking up, lamenting on how they’re surprised to be alive, they have an awkward shower and then eat the mother of all breakfasts before the first commercial break.  Month 1 starts with them all talking about this doctor in Houston that specializes in helping people like me as if we all haven’t seen the last 13 seasons of this show, and depending on where they’re located, either they make a very long drive where you just know every participant is looking forward to the highways of road food available to them and they gain an extra 5-10 lbs before they see Dr. Now, or as has been increasing, they’re just too far away from Houston, and have a mostly pointless video call with Dr. Now, eagerly agree to get started on the program, and then hang up and probably go on another binge once the cameras are off.

Afterward, 9 out of 10 participants completely fail to meet the initial weight loss milestone, and nobody ever exceeds it, and Dr. Now has been too nice and too empathetic over the last two seasons, mostly because his reputation seems to precede him and nobody wants to throw hands with Ali, and he has little reason to be tough in return, and he just tells them the same goal, 70 pound in two munt and they’re on their merry way.

The show then goes into a strange fast forward through the remainder of the months, with sometimes them going back to Houston for follow-ups, and others ducking Dr. Now or their appointed therapy, and if there’s any surgeries, they usually happen in like months 7-10, and that’s only if they’ve managed to get their shit together and lost at least 80% of their goal weight loss, and find a place to live in Houston. 

The endings of every episode feel real rushed and hackneyed, and it’s fairly obvious to me that such is done in order to create separation between the filming of an episode of My 600 Lb. Life versus their eventual Where Are They Now? episode, and I feel like the latter is probably why the prime show has gotten so templatized, because the spin-off has become as much of a mainstay as the prime, and it’s like it’s a means to conserve content so that there can be a follow-up.

Like I said, I think the show needs to take a few steps back and reset their approach to producing.  I get that Dr. Now is like 80, not going to be doing this much longer, and probably on a personal level, doesn’t want to deal with shitheads like the Assanti brothers, and people who give him a colossal amount of grief.  But this shit is television, and we degenerate viewers need to see some shitheads and strong personalities that bring the best-worst out of Dr. Now, and everyone ends up happy when he lights a fire under their asses and drags results out of them.

So we need some real strong participants, that will bring out the Dr. Now fans all love, perhaps some more stringent participant rules and guidelines to ensure we have fewer Deshauns who turtle up the whole episode and more Jonathans (S13E01) who actually manage to do things with his life.  The current format has also been a little deceptive in presentation, because most everyone over the last few seasons fails after their initial consult, and we’re never seeing the diet cheating they’re doing, so that it’s more of a surprise (but it’s not) when they go to their next weigh-in and have only lost like 7 lbs.  It’s like, we know they’re going to fuck up, might as well let us see it.

Fewer remote participants because the journey is already hard enough, but adding insurmountable distance on top it leads to more episodes you just know are going to eventually dead end, and at one point, I found it to be astounding when there was a season where zero people actually got surgery, but now it’s becoming the norm, and this isn’t helping.

I love the show too much to give up on it cold turkey, but we’ve literally had two straight duds of seasons.  Megalomedia, TLC, and the Nowzaradans need to get their shit together, and breathe some life back into the series, because although I might, I can’t speak for everyone else out there, on if they’ll tolerate sitting through a third straight turdy pound turd, especially when we all know what the series is capable of.

This is oddly validating

We’re #1!  Or #50:  Georgia ranks first (or last) in happiness of employees, according to rando website, then reported by WSB

Considering the fact that I have very specific brog tags for “ohatlanta” and “ohgeorgia” I’ve been critical of my home state since basically, I moved here.  It did not take too long for me to recognize bullshit when I saw it, combined with the age in which I moved here, really growing up into bullshit recognition and as my generation is often liked to be labeled, as woke, there is an odd sense of ironic satisfaction at seeing Georgia win, or tank at employee happiness. 

It validates a lot of criticisms I’ve had and witnessed throughout my life living here, and there’s a part of me that likes to pawn off my own struggles with depression as having reason on account of working.

But back to the data aggregation itself, the rankings were based on criteria such as quit rates, commute times, working hours, injuries, paid time off and state positivity levels.  Considering the fact that Georgia has turned into a battleground state politically, it obviously has a very high rate of contention in general state happiness, as at any given point, nearly half the state is pissed about the color of it.  But if I had to guess what is really anchoring down the state’s general workforce happiness, has got to be the commute times, in which is further anchored down probably by Atlanta itself.

According to GPS, I’m barely six miles from my office, but I still need to give myself an entire half hour in order to traverse home to work, and I don’t actually have to touch a highway either.  I’m usually below the median commute time of 28.7 minutes according to this study, but barely, and any little divot such as a fender bender or some rando school bus being late easily pushes me past it.

And to think there were varying times in my life where I had commutes of 70+ minutes and 55 miles each way, and I was living my life then, I couldn’t imagine going back to such hellacious commuting conditions ever again.

But again, I’m just going to assume most of Georgia’s ranking is weighted heavily by Atlanta since lets face it, outside of pockets of civilization in Augusta, Macon and Savannah, there ain’t shit else in Georgia that could muddy up the picture of the state, and even those pockets are merely blips of population compared to the five million-plus that live in the Metro Atlanta area.  And most are innately aware of the escalating cost of living in the Metro Atlanta area, with obviously the wages not rising commensurate to meet them, which would of course lead to a lot of unhappiness.  I’m sure this is nothing different than lots of other major cities across the nation, but based on this study, it’s very apparent in Georgia, more so than everywhere else. 

Honestly though, when I came across this article, I thought I’d have way more to say about it than I apparently do, but continuing this post any further would just be parroting things already said.  Georgia is apparently full of a bunch of unhappy people in the workforce, and although I don’t necessarily think I’m one of them, I’m definitely not really in the happy camp on a daily basis, but I don’t think a lot of these correlating conditions really help either.  I know my general sense of happiness wouldn’t mind some extra wage to help alleviate a lot of my anxieties and issues.

Identity crisis

Just the other night mythical wife said that our household should be What We Do in the Shadows characters for Halloween.  And without any hesitation, she said that I should be Guillermo.

To the credit of that opinion, my face immediately made the same face Guillermo does whenever he looks at the camera after the vampires do something stupid.  But I wasn’t at all impressed at the knee-jerk association.

The lack of excitement of that was obviously noticed, and the back pedaling and explaining begins; he’s a badass vampire slayer, he’s the glue that holds the house together, he’s the guy that’s perpetually on the edge and verge of snapping being sick of everyone else’s shit, and I’m just thinking about the guy that’s fat, gets walked on by everyone around him, and is basically there for comedic relief but usually at his own expense.

Now I love the show, and it’s a fair comp, but the fact of the matter is that Guillermo is kind of the show loser, and it depressed me to be so immediately comped up to him.  He is an awesome character with a lot more depth than all the others, but when you take a step back and look at Guillermo as a whole, he’s a guy with no discernable identity, and spends the vast majority of his existence cleaning up after others and not at all doing anything for himself, much less forming an identity.  He’s the joke, he’s the doormat, he’s the comic relief.

But like I said, it’s not a completely unfair comparison.  I am the guy that keeps my house together; I’m the guy that maintains or manages the landscaping, the (attempted) cleanliness, tries to keep the house in working order and somewhat organized, with little or no help.  I take the vast majority of parenting duties, and any minute where I’m not working my job, I’m spending time with my kids while they’re awake, and it’s not until they are in bed that I have any semblance of downtime, that is when I’m not back to managing the home.

And I am, perpetually on the verge of losing my shit, because my life is not at all easy, I’m overworked, under-helped, taken for granted, and I’ve just been reminded of my general lack of identity in the world other than a dad or a housekeeper.  Both titles are undoubtedly important and I take them seriously, but when I try to picture anyone else thinking about me, I struggle to wonder what in the world words formulate in their minds when they think about me, other than those two things.

Because I don’t know what words formulate in my own mind when it comes to trying to describe myself.  I think I used to be a sports guy, specifically a baseball guy, when I was super into baseball and talking about sports all the time.  I used to be a League guy when I spent so much of my life buried in the League of Legends community.  I used to be the wrestling guy, which might be the closest thing I’m still identifiable to these days, and I most definitely was the belt guy, but the thing is that I’ve gotten pretty much every blet I want and until I have an office again, there’s not much point in getting any others.  Ironically, the one thing that I have staunchly refused to ever give up, being my desire to write, is probably the one thing so few people actually know I do, because I have zero readers and I’m neurotic and don’t want to advertise that I do it, so being a writing guy or a brogger isn’t exactly something anyone would know me for.

But the thing is, other than the latter I don’t think I’m really any of these things anymore.  As my kids came into existence, and my personal time diminished into negligible amounts, all my hobbies and interests fell to the wayside as any time I had to myself was either staring at a wall or trying to motivate myself to write something, usually about how burned out and over my life in general I was feeling at the time, kind of like I’m doing right now.

And so, I don’t really have an identity anymore, I don’t think.  As often as I think I would benefit from a day or two completely by myself to actually rest and recharge, I really don’t know what I’d even do.  I’m so money conscious that I wouldn’t want to spend the money to go hide out at a hotel or something, and I’d feel guilty eating out and spending money that I know I shouldn’t be spending, but I also can’t really expect to get any recharge time when I’m around my kids, because I want to spend time with them, so I’m left in this spiraling swirl of indecisiveness and end up doing nothing but watching television and treading the waters of depression.

Really, I just need this funky emotional wave to pass so I can go about my life without the baggage.  Hopefully I won’t be reminded of how much of a Guillermo I am again any time soon.

I think this takes the cake

The ad on the left is the July 4th ad that my former team and I produced for the 2021 year.  The ad on the right is the July 4th ad that was produced by my former employer for the 2022 year.

Now I understand that there’s little sexy and glamorous about newsprint, especially considering the world has such a collective boner about digital-this, omnichannel-that, social, influencers and other forms of marketing approaches that constant insists that the print medium is dying or already dead, but I will fight you if you tell me this to my face.

What good is your digital medium if the internet goes down?  Or you can’t connect to the wi-fi and your 5G can’t make it through the concrete and medal coliseums of the stores you’re in, needing to access the internet?  Or you catch me on a bad day and I slap your phone out of your hand and break your phone for telling me that my occupation is obsolete?  Alright then

I’ll be the first to admit that the 2021 ad isn’t necessarily mind-blowing, or remotely close to the best work that my team has ever produced.  We were still amidst pandemic-this and supply chain-that, not to mention that my team was forced to work in a program that was the equivalent of a Chevy Cavalier trying to compete with NASCARs on the track.  But compared to the ad on the right?  Suddenly the 2021 Cavalier looks like a spaceship compared to the stone and chisel produced ad in 2022.

In short, my old team was completely gutted, laid off and the company’s newsprint was outsourced to an agency in Austin, Texas; literally a week after I had my final day with the company.  I was pretty upset about it despite having dodged a massive bullet, because I still had and have a tremendous amount of care and shits to give about all the people on my old team, because there’s a ton of talent and good people there who were put into a horrible situation.

Fortunately, almost all of them have landed on their feet since, but the point remains that the old newsprint team was effectively killed, with our primary task being outsourced; in my opinion, one of the biggest professional insults to anyone who’s ever taken pride in what they do for a living.

I blame my old boss for all of this.  I’ve made no secret of the disdain, contempt and general hate I have for her, and how they were easily the #1 factor for why I decided to leave the company.  I could list of numerous things I hated about being under their thumb, but I’d be better off saving those 50,000 words for November and completing NaNoWriMo with them instead.  However, of all of the horrible shit she said, did and behaved to me that made her a horrible Bronn of a boss, I genuinely think this is the worst thing she ever did; as the title of this post says, I think this takes the cake.

This piece of outsourced shit,  the July 4th ad for 2022, is a goddamn joke.  The photo does no justice to how poor the entire ad is, because all throughout the circular are errors, alignment and consistency issues, bad crops, obviously distorted images, and zero quality control.  A hundred things I caught in a hundred seconds of scanning through it, that would never have made it past mine or any of my team’s eyes on our numerous proofing rounds.  Ancient Egyptians pounding hieroglyphics on reeds had better brand standards than this sad circular.

She killed our medium.  No matter how hard my team pushed back against evolving trends and proved our positive ROI year after year, she came in and killed us, because no team in the world can survive in the league when their own coach is deliberately and determined to kill them.

Continue reading “I think this takes the cake”

:(

A reminder that popped up in my phone today.

Don’t really have the heart to delete the occurrence, despite knowing that if I don’t, it’ll pop up again next month, and the month after that, to remind me that my sweet boy is no longer with me.

Happy trails, Chase the Face

I told myself to not write anything before the fact, because that would be time spent on myself and not hanging out with the Face.  I still have no idea how people do this, where they schedule the euthanization of their pets, and then literally manage to operate their lives knowing there is a very real clock ticking down the remainder of their life.

Needless to say, the time between making the call to the vet and to the eventual saying of goodbye to my dog, has been real hazy, but fortunately for me, I’m the type of person who can throw themselves into work, just so that I don’t have to think about the anxieties of something like having to put my dog down.

Here’s a fun fact about me, Chase is actually the first dog that I’ve ever own, myself.  Every pet I’ve had in the past was either inherited, temporary or technically belonged to someone else, but not actually mine.  Chase was the first dog that I’ve ever adopted, paid for, and been solely responsible for in my entire life.

I adopted him on May 16, 2012, from the Atlanta Humane Society.  My home had always had dogs in it, and when it stopped having dogs in it, it felt like there was something missing.  I was single with no prospects at this time, so having a dog seemed like a no-brainer as far as unconditional companionship was concerned, and I wanted to adopt a rescue because I just felt that it was a more responsible thing to do, seeing as how the pet population is pretty out of control in general.

I had visited a couple of shelters leading up to eventually going to the Humane Society, and when I met Wind Chaser, I kind of felt pretty quickly that this was the dog that I wanted to adopt.  Say what you will about my general preference in dogs, maybe it’s an Asian thing or maybe it’s just me, but this maltese/shih tsu mix just kind of spoke to me.  So I paid the adoption fee in an Amazon donation, and shortened to Chase, was now my dog.

Continue reading “Happy trails, Chase the Face”