Living Life on My Terms ... or Ben's.

My friends, as we begin a new year, and you engage in some self-reflection and ask yourself some hard questions about your health, your happiness, and whether you are going to keep Disney+, I wanted to share something with you. Something I found on the Interwebs recently.

It’s an article by Benjamin P. Hardy, found on the website Medium. The article is titled “50 Ways to Live on Your Own Terms.”

You are, no doubt, as intrigued as I was to know how exactly Benji Hardy knew what my terms were. Well, turns out … he don’t. What he does know is other stuff that he apparently thinks should be my terms…

In reality, some of these items he mentions are actually very important to me and do happen to be things that are priorities and practices in my life. But that doesn’t lend B.P.H. any credibility in my book. As they say, even a broken clock is right twice a day. Fling enough vinyl platitudes against the wall, and some of them are bound to stick.

Anyway, here is the list of Ben’s terms, in his order - and my thoughts about them.

1. Stop consuming caffeine. 77% of the people I know just tapped the table in front of them twice, and out loud said, “I’m out.”

2. Pray or meditate morning, mid-day, and night. I’m all about it.

3. Read 1 book per week. Does my Calvin & Hobbes Anthology count?

4. Write in your journal 5 minutes per day. Agreed.

5. Marry the person you love. Way ahead of you.

6. Make a bucket list and actively knock items off. Bucket List Item #1: Don’t let other people define the terms I live by. Bucket List Item #2: Sleep until noon. This is so easy, you guys.

7. Stop consuming refined sugar. HAHAHAHA! Oh, were you SERIOUS?!

8. Fast from all food and caloric beverages 24 hours once per week. Since this is on my terms, we’ll go with once a month.

9. Fast from the internet 24 hours once per week. Pssshh. This is a snap. I’m not trying to brag, but I do it at least 8 hours every night. That’s, like, 56 hours a week.

10. Stop consuming the news or reading the newspaper. And spend more time reading Medium! Right, Ben?

11. Do something every day that terrifies you. Does getting on Facebook count?

12. Do something kind for someone else daily. Does it count if I refrain from doing unkind things to certain people?

13. Go to bed early and rise early. This guy clearly doesn’t have children.

14. Get 7+ hours of sleep each night. See? No children.

15. Replace warm showers with cold ones. My ancestors gave their lives so I could take hot showers; and I’m not about to disrespect them by taking cold showers.

16. Say “No” to people, obligations, requests, and opportunities you’re not interested in from now on. My six-year-old lives by this philosophy. It’s not working out super well for her.

17. Say “Thank you” every time you’re served by someone. If you’re not already doing this … you might be a child.

18. Say “I love you” 3+ times a day to the most important people in your life. I do. But the cashier at Rockwell’s Ice Cream is getting super uncomfortable.

19. Consume 30 grams of protein within the first 30 minutes of waking up. No problem. There’s 30 grams of protein in Twinkies, right?

20. Listen to audiobooks and podcasts on 1.5 or 2x speed, your brain will change faster. Sure will. It’ll get annoyed quicker.

21. Decide where you’ll be in five years and get there in two. I’ll be 53 in five years. Why would I want to get there in two years?

22. Remove all non-essentials from your life (start with your closet). My kids already do this. They haven’t used a closet in years. They prefer the floor.

23. Consume a tablespoon of coconut oil once per day. How much coconut oil in an Almond Joy?

24. Buy a juicer and juice a few times per week. Or just buy juice. My favorite juice is a milkshake. 

25. Choose to have faith in something bigger than yourself, skepticism is easy. Preach, Ben.

26. Stop obsessing about the outcome. And start obsessing about the process.

27. Give at least one guilt-free hour to relaxation per day. I’m going to stretch myself and go for eight guilt-free hours of relaxation per day!

28. Genuinely apologize to people you’ve mistreated. 100%.

29. Make friends with five people who inspire you. But Bill Murray won’t return my phone calls!

30. Save 10 percent or more of your income. I was. But movie theater prices keep going up!

31. Tithe or give 10 percent of your income away. Welcome to the party, Ben.

32. Drink 64–100 ounces of water per day. And be sure to move your desk directly into the bathroom.

33. Buy a small place rather than rent. When Ben isn’t writing for Medium, I suspect he’s a realtor.

34. Check your email and social media at least 60–90 minutes after you wake up. Ok, Boomer. [Did I use that correctly? That was my first time using that.]

35. Make a few radical changes to your life each year. I’m kind of too tired. Even using the word “radical” makes me kind of want a nap.

36. Define what wealth and happiness mean to you. I define them as “Things people should give me.”

37. Change the way you feel, think, and act about money. Sounds like somebody has asked Ben for a loan one too many times. He should just call them out. “Change the way you think about money, Peter!”

38. Invest only in industries you are informed about. Informed about? So…invest in Netflix and pizza. Got it

39. Create an automated income source that takes care of the fundamentals. Swell idea. Ben, what’s your credit card number?

40. Have multiple income streams (the more the better). Why do I feel like Ben is trying to get me into his downline?

41. Track at least one habit/behavior you’re trying to improve. Does it count as “tracking” if what happens is you are praying and praying for strength to become a better person, and you realize you’ve been praying for the same thing for several years … and kind of you’re still the same person?

42. Have no more than 3 items on your to-do list each day. Ben, what color is the sky on your planet?

43. Make your bed first thing in the morning. Now you tell me! I got rid of my bed after item #22.

44. Make one audacious request per week (what do you have to lose?) I guess nothing except my friends, since I’ll be developing a reputation of being that guy who walks around making audacious requests of everyone around him.

45. Be spontaneously generous with a stranger at least once per month. I like this.

46. Write and place a short, thoughtful note for someone once per day. Doing it right now. “Dear Ben, I think you have a gift for identifying the obvious and/or ridiculous.”

47. Become good friends with your parents. Check.

48. Floss your teeth. Once a year, whether I need it or not!

49. Eat at least one meal with your family per day. Of course. Wait. What are we having?

50. Spend time reflecting on your blessings at least once per day. Today I’ll reflect on the blessing of living life on my terms.

Without Fail

I was recently visiting with a dear friend of mine at work when I noticed a heavy, metallic plaque situated on the front of her desk.

It read, “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?”

If I KNEW I could not fail? Let’s rock that list, shall we? And I’m just spit-ballin’ here.

• First, of course, I would hie to Kolob. (In the twinkling of an eye.) (But make no mistake, I would also come back to earth. I’m not done yet.)
• I would go on ABC’s summer sensation, Wipeout! and win! (And by “win” I obviously mean “take over John Henson’s job.” I think that just looks like a bunch of fun.)  
• I would maintain a diet so horrific that it would offend the delicate sensitivities of both health enthusiasts and PETA members alike…but I would magically keep a gorgeously svelte physique.
• Drive my car around without ever having to fill it up with gas, ever again.
• I would bring MC Hammer back in style.
• I would bring his pants back in style as well.
• I would wear MC Hammer pants to church.
• BASE jump off the Eiffel Tower without a parachute…and live.
• Go back in time and attend Neil Diamond’s 1972 “Hot August Night” concert at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles, California.
• Sail around the world in my very own yacht; without having to take lessons or have any idea how to sail or know what I’m doing OR come across any sharks or whales or any animal that makes me nervous. Dolphins are okay, if they maintain a distance of 25 yards, as specified in a contract drawn up by my lawyer.
• Develop my own island in the Caribbean and call it Awesomeland.
• Run for President of Awesomeland.
• Lose the election – because I don’t want to be president of anything.
• Become Superman, with the added ability of being able to turn invisible.
• Sentence Martin Lawrence to a lifetime in prison for not being funny.
• Own exclusive rights to doing impressions of Jack Nicholson, and not allow anyone to do them anymore. Not because I do a good impression of Jack Nicholson; but because I just think it’s enough already, people.  And that goes double for you, Robin Williams.   
• Receive an Academy Award for Best Abs in a Major Motion Picture.
• Receive $1,000,000 a month in returns on my investments. Any investments. I really don’t care what investments.
• Shave once a year.
• Fly my own jet. Again, no lessons – just instincts. I don’t have time for lessons. And Jason Bourne seems to get by on instincts.
• Be Jason Bourne. But without the killing. Just mad fighting skills.
• Replace Bono as lead singer for U2 and be even more adored by the public.
• Write the “Great American Novel.” Or just the “Great American Bumper Sticker.” Yeah, I’d settle for the bumper sticker thing. (It’s less effort, plus it would allow me some time to actually consider what it means to “not fail at something”….because in my mind, I may or may not truly comprehend the difference between achieving something and receiving super powers.)

Nothing Left Unsaid

I’m not normally a “nervous flyer.” And while I am not best friends with turbulence, we’re certainly not bitter enemies. If things get a little bumpy while in the air, I don’t panic, scream, or slap the person next to me. (If the in-flight movie is starring Ashton Kutcher, however, those are precisely my reactions, and I make no apology for it.) But on a recent flight, we experienced some severe commotion while in the air, and as I was thrashed back and forth, the thought actually went through my head, “Have I left anything unsaid?”

I am not what you would call emotionally reserved; so when it comes to my family, I am pretty open. I throw around the “I love yous” like I’m asking for somebody to pass the green beans! But I do it with generous sincerity. So the family, and even most close friends, are covered. But what of all the other people I know? And even those I DON’T know?

Faced with sudden, profound fear that life would be ripped from my very breath, I grasped for pen and paper and began to write down the things I had once erroneously determined were better left unsaid. Here is that list.

Dear Snider Family. Thank you for inventing In-N-Out Burgers. I love you.

Dear Lincoln. I somehow still have your MTV Party to Go Volume 2 CD that I borrowed in college. I hope you can forgive me. I certainly didn’t mean to keep it for 18 years. Additionally, over the years, I have grown increasingly embarrassed by the mere fact that it is even in my possession, due to one particularly notable track from 1992, performed by the impish hip-hop group known as “Naughty by Nature.” I believe the CD is still intact. It’s in my garage, wrapped in a brown paper bag, at the bottom of a concealed, unlabeled box. So even though I will indeed miss "setting adrift on memory bliss," as one of the other tracks suggests, it is time this treasure box of 90s dance music be returned to its rightful owner. Please be sure to remind me to give it back to you the next time you are passing through town.

Dear PetSmart. Remember when I tried to return that sharp-fanged, malevolent alien-mouse and you refused to take it back? And then you actually threatened me that if I did return it then it would most likely just be sold as snake food? I immediately marched from your store to my friend’s house and fed it to his snake. Thanks for the idea. Joke’s on you.

Dear Katy Perry. We are all super impressed. Now please cover up; your mother is thoroughly embarrassed.

Dear Heather. Many years ago you made me a mix tape. And even though I had previously made a very zealous and clear case regarding my disdain for Michael Bolton, you included a Michael Bolton song on the tape. At some point, in this life or the next, I believe you owe me an apology. Or at least an explanation.  

Dear Lady GaGa. I thought of a title for your autobiography. “Born This Way, The Devil Made Me Do It, and Other Lame Excuses for Why I’m Not Accountable for My Life Choices.” Do you like it? P.S. Nobody was born to wear a “meat dress,” m’Lady. Nobody.

Dear Lenny. When we were roommates, I always thought it was kind of strange that you dated a girl named Stevie, and then a girl named Sam. I always promised myself that if you dated a girl named Jake, I was going to say something. Anyway, I’m glad you married Harriet…though I do think it’s strange you call her Harry. Just sayin’.

Dear Jonelle. That time you accused me of buying out the store’s entire stock of Haagen-Dazs Chocolate Peanut Butter at one time and I rolled my eyes and declared you a state of preposterousness…yeah, you were dead right.

Dear Taylor Swift. I’m not your target demographic, and you made my face do this when you were on Saturday Night Live …

...but dang if I don’t find it absolutely adorable when my 7 year old belts out the lyrics to Love Story. So thank you for that.

Dear Delta Airlines. Thank you for the opportunity to reflect on those memories and emotions that had long been buried…but never died.

What things are YOU leaving unsaid?

I'm a Birthday Boy

I don’t know if you saw the CNN coverage, but I’m 38 years old today.

On a scale of 1 to 10, my Freak-Out-O-Meter is registering about a 6.3. (Above average, but no pandemonium.) I’m certainly not old, but I can also no longer comfortably eat six doughnuts before I sit down to my birthday cake*.

(*True story, 1995.)

By all outward signs, I should be 38. I’ve been married 13.5 years, I’ve got six kids, a mortgage, a standing racquetball game three times a week, a mini-van, a lawn mower, a nostalgic streak, black and grey peppered hair, a tendency to fall asleep on the couch, and friends that have known me through decades now and can vouch for my age.

But sometimes, I have to be honest, I’m not sure how I got here so quickly.

And while it doesn’t feel like I should already have arrived at 38, I will freely admit that my life is better than anything I could have scripted in my youth. Better than I deserve, certainly.

Still. As formulaic and banal as it may be, on my birthday I tend to reflect. I take inventory of my life’s experiences. And while talking with a co-worker today who was trying to convince me that getting older was no big deal, she had the audacity to ask me, “But really, if you were to do it over again, you wouldn’t change anything in your life, would you? You don’t have any regrets.”

Oh, no? Look, sister, don’t tell ME I don’t have any regrets! Here are my top 10.

1. In 1988, when I jumped backwards out of a tree and forever obliterated my back. Yeah, I think if I were to do it over, I would skip that part.
2. I saw Superman III in the theater. Twice. I think once would have sufficed. If that.
3. I lived on Molokai my senior year of high school. If I could go back, I would go to the beach every…single…day.
4. I’d take piano lessons. I’d start at age 5.
5. I’d skip junior high entirely.
6. I ate a piece of pumpkin pie when I was home from college for Christmas in 1992, got food poisoning, and spend several days of my Christmas break vomiting. Joy to the world. If I could go back, I would take a slice of the apple pie instead.
7. I had an internship at NBC in Burbank, California just before I graduated college. They offered me a position. I didn’t take it. I think I would.
8. Katie and I met in a comedy troupe during college, where we performed improvisations. We were in an improv together one night, before we were dating, and a moment came when I really should have kissed her. The scene was perfect for it, the audience cheered it on, but I backed out of it. (A girl I was dating was sitting in the audience and would have come unglued.) If I were to go back, I would kiss her so good it would curl her toes.
9. I was once driving too fast on a wet, slick curve and rolled our family’s van. If I could go back, I’d slow down.
10. Once on a waterskiing trip a bunch of us were riding on one of those banana rafts, being pulled behind the boat. I threw my leg over the raft to pull myself up, and when I did, I kicked my mom in the eye and shattered her contact while it was still in her eye. I felt awful for a long, long time after that. I remember sitting in the boat watching my dad pull the broken pieces of contact out of my mom’s eye. I also remember thinking, “I bet puberty would have been great,” because I was pretty sure my dad was going to kill me right then. We had some friends from church with us on that trip. If I could go back, I’d kick one of them in the eye instead. Or I suppose I could kick nobody in the eye. Either one, but certainly not my mom!