That was unfortunately a mistake.
 

My work requires me to be online six days per week.  The requirement comes from having to process refunds for the 31 Day Fat Loss Cure in a timely manner.  Yes, believe it or not, people do ask for a refund on the best weight loss program available on the internet.
 

So to access the Internet I go to a coffee shop with wi-fi.  Or a bar with wi-fi.  Sometimes I need to do this twice per day.  And the costs add up quickly. . .
 

If I were to spend just $2.00 per day at a coffee shop to leach off of their Internet access it would cost me $48.00 per month.  But I don’t spend $2.00 per day. . .
 

The coffee shop around the corner has a $2.50 minimum on credit card payments.  And their wi-fi is slow.  The fastest wi-fi I’ve found within walking distance is at a bar that has a wide selection of delicious beers on tap.  In fact I’m drinking a (512) IPA at the Spiderhouse Cafe right now.  I never leave this place for less than $6.00 (usually closer to $12.00 or $15.00).  And the near daily bar tab is not helping me in the physique department at all.
 

But what about the library?  With the library I’m looking at bus fees because I sold my car the day I arrived in Austin.  And I also have to consider my commute time which is looking like an hour one-way according to Google maps.
 

But the cost of Internet access in my apartment?  And I mean the fastest cable Internet I could get. . . $55.00 per month.
 

Sold!

So Sunday morning I have an appointment to have Internet access installed in my new Austin apartment.  And I’m reminded once again that I am undeniably bound by the tendrils of cyber space.

At least for the time being.

Have you tried to break free of “always on” Internet?  What were the results?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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Billie Holiday on my ancient iPod.  Lone Star beer because I’m in Texas.  It’s a good Tuesday night.

I’ve been in Austin six days or so.  It’s been a transition.  In that time, this website “crashed”.  Which means I was too preoccupied with moving to pay the damned hosting bill.  But the bill has been paid, all is up and running, and I’m nearly finished with this beer.  Transitions.

Some guys buy a red Corvette when they’re about to turn 40. I load my few worldly possessions and my dog into my eleven year old Jeep and move to Austin.  And then I sell the Jeep the day I arrive.

No car.

No cell phone.

No television.

No internet access in my apartment.

But I’m within walking distance of a grocery store with a wide selection of organic fruits and vegetables and grass fed beef.  I have 24 hour access to a gym less than two blocks away with all the free weights I could want and a heavy bag.  I’m investigating martial arts schools and yoga studios in the area.  And there is a bar less than three blocks away with my favorite non-Lone Star beer on tap.

Transitions.

My transition was unorthodox but necessary.  It was rash but par for the course for someone who joined the Infantry after graduating law school and started his dream business on credit card debt.

I’m not afraid of transitions.  I thrive on them.

We will return to our regularly scheduled posting schedule of twice per week starting next week.  But in the mean time, please feel free to share your thoughts on your own transitions in the comments below.  For email updates of future posts, be sure to click here.

Not too long ago, I dedicated a month to getting rid of 10 items per day.  I was surprised to see how much emotional attachment I had to some items, and the process of getting rid of my “stuff” lead to my certainty that I am ready to leave Columbus, Ohio.

And so I am!  Effective August 18th I will be a resident of Austin, Texas.  As a result of the impending move, I’m paring down my possessions even further – if it doesn’t fit in my Jeep then I’m not taking it with me.  And my dog Coda will take up plenty of room in the old Jeep.

The one item I was balking on getting rid of was my old heavy bag.  We have been through so much together and parting with it did not feel like an option.  At least not until I read an essay by my friend Joshua Millburn at TheMinimalists.com.

In his article titled Letting Go Of Sentimental Items, Josh talks about parting with his mother’s possessions after her death.  It is a moving piece that ends with some practical lessons about holding on (or letting go of) sentimental items.  Immediately after reading Josh’s article I went to my basement and unhooked the heavy bag from the ceiling, threw it in the back of my Jeep, and drove it straight to Goodwill.

I have gotten rid of many sentimental items over the past several weeks, but the heavy bag was the only one that stung.  It was the only item that I thought about again after I let it go.  But I only thought about it for a couple of days.  I have no doubt that releasing it was the right thing to do.  Here are my thoughts I recorded the day that I dropped it off. . .

My friend.  From the sprained wrists of ill aligned punches to the strife purged from sweat stained unrestrained wailing, I have learned much from you.  You have been there for me for most of my life. 

Nearly 30 years now. . .  And today I let you go.

I dropped you off at the back door of a thrift store like any other piece of discarded furniture or overused and under-loved article of clothing.  Here we part ways.

Here we draw the line that I am moving on and leaving my previous life behind.  I thank you for all you have done.  I thank you for all you have been there for. . .

From the evil step-father to the personal demons to the undeserved self righteousness. . . You have been there.

Brown flecks of dried blood – my blood – dot your canvas like a signature.  Like a contract.  Like a solemn oath that we would always be together.  Today I break that oath.  Today I give you away.

You have been my reference point to remind me that I came from something good as I doubted that was possible when I lost her, and lost them, and lost all of my financial where-with-all.  But you were still there.  And today I let you go.

I won’t have room for you in my 400 square foot Austin apartment.  No place to hang.  No place to serve your duty of ever present tormentor and teacher and friend.  Tucking you in a corner unused would be criminal.

Better to drop you off where I hope you’ll be put to good use.

But before you go, before I snap that D-ring off of the eye-hook I drilled into my basement rafter 8 years ago just like my father drilled into our basement rafter nearly 30 years ago. . .

Let’s dance one last time.

I strap on the gloves.  I set the timer.  And we have one last dance.  One last round of punches and kicks and love.

We say everything that needs to be said without saying a goddamned thing.

I will miss you my friend.  But it is time to say good bye.

Have you ever had an item or artifact that was so ingrained to your life that if was hard to let go?  Did you eventually come to the realization that it was just “stuff” and it was time to part with it?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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During the final ten days of my get rid of 10 things per day experiment, it became tough to find 10 things to part with.  As I said in Part 1, I already lived a pretty Spartan lifestyle.  But despite slowing down the number of items per day that I got rid of, two out of the three bedrooms in my home are now completely empty.

I’ve pruned my furniture down to the bare necessities.  My living room has one couch, one coffee table, one pub table (that I use as both my desk and where I eat), one bar stool, and one bookshelf.  And I’m considering getting rid of the bookshelf.  My bedroom has a bed, one small dresser, some wire shelving, and a nightstand.  I donated an assortment of desks, chairs, file cabinets, and shelving units to the thrift store.

During the final days of the experiment, I did not encounter the emotional attachment to things like cell phones with texts from old girlfriends or the old uniforms that I wore during my days as a karate instructor.  The final days brought me something else – clarity.

As entire rooms of my house became empty, a sense of certainty came over me that it is time to move on.  I’ve waffled about leaving Columbus for over a year.  Now I have no doubt that I will be leaving as soon as I sell my house.  My goal is to relocate by the end of the year.

And that is why I have decided to keep my Jeep for now.  When I leave Columbus, I will take with me only what fits in the back of the trusty old Jeep.  And once I arrive to my new location, I’ll reconsider living without a car.

Getting rid of 10 things per day helped me clear out the clutter of my physical possessions and emotional attachments.  I feel “lighter” and have a sense of certainty about my future that has been missing since my bankruptcy.  Whether you get rid of 10 items per day or 10 items per week, experimenting with intentionally reducing your possessions comes with my highest recommendation.  Many thanks to Johnny B. Truant and his exercise in quasi-minimalism for the inspiration.

Have you experimented with getting rid of your stuff?  Are you holding on to items due to emotional attachment even though you know you should move on?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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One of the last cases I worked on as a lawyer placed me in a crisis of conscience. Before I get into the details of the case, I want to make it clear that I was not some big shot trial lawyer – I was the low rung lawyer on a team of three attorneys.  I did research and writing for pre-trial motions and was happy to have the big dogs do the face to face arguing.

The case involved a 15 year old boy who was placed in the home of a neighbor by my county’s Children Services Agency.  The boy was removed from his own home on a domestic violence call and since he was old enough to voice his opinion, he was asked if there was any place he would like to stay.  When he mentioned the neighbor, Children Services did their standard investigation of the neighbor in accordance with state law prior to placing the boy in the neighbor’s home.  Nothing was found during the investigation to prohibit the placement and the boy was placed in the neighbor’s home that day.

Less than 24 hours later the boy was dead from a gun shot wound to the head from the neighbor playing Russian Roulette. It was my job to defend the Children Services Agency in the wrongful death lawsuit brought by the boy’s parents.

The Agency did everything they were supposed to do for the investigation according to the law.  Technically they did nothing wrong.  But if they would have done research beyond that required by law, they would have discovered that the neighbor had a criminal record and was on probation for firing a shotgun around a crowd of teenagers.

I couldn’t help but feel the parents deserved some compensation.  But there would be none.

The case was dismissed on Summary Judgment.  That means we won on the strength of the written motions submitted.  That means there was no trial.  The boy’s parents did not receive a dime from the county for their loss.

Children Services did their job to the letter of the law.  I did my job to the letter of the law.  Everyone was right.  But it felt so damned wrong.

The death of a 15 year old boy provides for an emotionally charged background to weigh the conflicts of doing your job and doing what you feel in your heart is right.  But less dramatic circumstances arise as well. . .

• Marketing tactics that are technically the truth but still feel slimy.
• Refusing to honor a refund request because the purchase is technically outside of the guarantee time limit by a few days.
• Coming to work a few minutes late, leaving a few minutes early, or stretching a lunch hour because no one else will ever notice.
• Anything else that we do for our “job” that makes us uncomfortable but we continue to tolerate because we are financially dependent.

There is an internal compass, a still small voice, a gut feeling, a guardian angel, a something in all of us that clues us in when we are off the path even though we are “right”.

I haven’t been listening to that something as closely as I’d like lately.

How about you?

Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below. And if you enjoyed this article, please sign up for email updates by clicking here.

In November of 2000 I went to Pyongyang, North Korea. North Korea is arguably the most isolated nation in the world, and I’ve been there – for about ten minutes.

My final year in the Army was spent in Seoul, South Korea as part of the United Nations Command Honor Guard.  We served as armed guards for several high-level intelligence facilities as well as the home of a four star general.  We also raised and lowered the post flag each day and performed various ceremonies while wearing the sharp “dress blue” uniforms.

The most memorable ceremony I was part of was a repatriation ceremony.  We got on board a C-130 aircraft in our dress blues and flew from Seoul to Tokyo to Pyongyang, to pick up remains of American servicemen from the Korean War.  Hitting the runway in Pyongyang was eerie… there was a huge mural of their leader, Kim Jong Il, and we were under strict orders to not take any photographs.

The ramp dropped and we exited the plane to be met by a semi-circle of North Korean soldiers.  They stayed in their vehicles for the most part and I remember wondering if they had rifles with them – as we were unarmed.  A moment later a truck with a trailer full of aluminum caskets pulled up to the ramp of the plane.  We took a deliberate moment to honor the fallen with solemn salutes, and then swiftly loaded the caskets onto the plane.  The ramp closed, the engines started, and I was happy to end my ten minutes in Pyongyang. . .

The United States has been at war for several years now.  And even with Osama Bin Laden killed, our military men and women will still be in harms way for years to come.  I think often of how I was not called to war – how I never had to worry about road side bombs, rooftop snipers, or wearing a flak vest in the desert heat.  I think of how my mother never had to receive the notice that her son was killed at war.  And I wonder how many of the men I served with nearly ten years ago have made the ultimate sacrifice.

I also think about those who have been wounded and make regular donations to the Wounded Warrior Project.  I think about veterans that I know personally who came back with no visible physical wounds but were forever changed in ways that manifested themselves in substance abuse, domestic violence, and even federal prison time.

Most days I still wear my dog tags.  And it’s not because of the good memories of drinking beer with my Army buddies or some sense of veteran pride.  It’s because I know how lucky I am that I wasn’t called to war, that I’m not in a wheel chair, that I wasn’t psychologically destroyed.  That I wasn’t sent home in an aluminum casket. Putting those dog tags on each day reminds me that I was spared and others have died or otherwise sacrificed so I damn well better make the most of the time I’ve been given.

For me, every day is Memorial Day.

I hope that everyone enjoys their day off from work and their barbecues and beer.  I also hope that everyone takes a moment to thank those who have served their country and made the ultimate sacrifice.  Feel free to share your Memorial Day thoughts in the comments below.

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My 10 items per day purge fest has hit a minor snag or two, but overall is still going well.  As I mentioned in Part 1 of this series, I’ve been surprised at my emotional attachment to certain items.  And I’ve decided that’s ok. To some extent at least. . .

The Memories Test

I was faced with my one remaining uniform shirt from the Army and three items from my days as a martial arts instructor: a military style jacket that I used to wear to self defense and military combat seminars, the all-white uniform that I wore only when giving belt rank exams, and a black vest that I wore over the white uniform only when giving black belt exams to future instructors.

I hesitated to get rid of these items.  I had strong memories associated with these items – some good, some bad, but strong none the less.  But didn’t I have other items that also cued the same memories? There are YouTube videos of the exams of my top two black belts (see here and here).  I still have the black belt that I wore every day as an instructor.  I still have my old Army beret, my Infantry blue cord, and my medals.  With these other items still in my possession I saw no reason to keep the uniform pieces and they were discarded.

And that became the test. I would keep an item I felt an emotional attachment to only if I appreciated the memories associated with it and I did not have other items that reminded me of the same thing.  For that reason all of my old karate belts from my training as a kid were also discarded – except for my very first white belt.  All of the others were duplicative in my emotional attachment.

Practical Results

All of this emotional cleansing has been well and good, but I’m also experiencing some practical benefits from getting rid of my stuff.  Like being able to find a roll of tape when I want it. . .

Below are the before and after pics of my “junk drawer” that so many of us have in our kitchens.  I don’t think I had cleaned out that drawer once since I moved into my house eight years ago.  And now, I can find the tape.

Finding the tape may not sound like a big deal.  And well, it really isn’t a big deal.  I guess I’m saying that I’m enjoying the little moments of reduced friction that are resulting from getting rid of my clutter.

A Few Snags

I’ve encountered a snag or two along the way as I get rid of my stuff.  Most notably is not having enough space in my trash can.  So now I have trash sitting in boxes in my living room just waiting for their turn in the weekly garbage can rotation.  I see a dumpster rental sometime in my near future.

I’ve been donating plenty of my stuff to thrift stores.  Especially furniture.  But here was another little snag. . . I had some car trouble this week and couldn’t make my near daily donation at the thrift store for a few days.  The car is now fixed but it made me wonder. . . Do I really need my car?

I’ve owned my car for nearly 10 years, it’s paid off, and outside of routine maintenance – it has been extremely reliable.  But seeing as I work from home, I can’t think of any reason why I need the car.

The grocery store and bank are 20 minute walks from my home.  There is a vet less than a block away for Coda.  But restaurants, bars, and other places where I see friends would be at least an hour walk.   My “get rid of stuff” exercise has made me realize that vehicle ownership for me is a matter of social convenience and not a necessity.  Yet I hesitate to get rid of my beloved and trusty old Jeep. . .

Is the $100 per month car insurance payment and $4.00 per gallon gas worth the convenience?  I’m not sure yet.

Stay tuned to see if the Jeep is still around in my third and final installment of the Get Rid Of 10 Things Per Day series.  You can sign up to receive email updates by clicking here.

And once again, many thanks to Johnny B. Truant for the inspiration to get rid of my crap via his quasi-minimalism experiment.

What one luxury or convenience item would be most difficult for you to get rid of?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

“Fight!”

Fight.  That’s all he said.  No details on the level of contact we should use.  No clarity on the rules of engagement.  Just “Fight!”.  I was 17 years old.

I rushed the black belt with a forehand swing of my stick.  He parried easily and we ended up chest to chest – too close to swing the sticks.  I reached up with my off hand and grabbed him by the throat.  He stepped to my inside, dropped his hips, and tossed me through the air with ease.  But we were too close to the trophy case. . .

My left foot smashed through the glass of the trophy case.  I rolled onto the floor and landed on my stomach.  As I looked over my shoulder, I could see the bottom of my foot but not the top of my foot.  And the top of the foot is where all of the damage was.

I remained calm.  I didn’t get a visual on the true extent of my injury, so I didn’t panic.  Everyone in the room either helped apply first aid or reassure me that everything was alright.  We went to the hospital.

I left the hospital with my wound treated and my foot bound in a heap of gauze and bandages.  I still hadn’t seen the damage.  And I was still calm.

The next morning I had to clean my wound.  So I undressed my bandages and for the first time, saw the true extent of my injury.

48 stitches. My foot was swollen in hues of purple, blue, and green.  The laceration ran from my middle toe to around my big toe.  I was lucky I still had toes. It looked like the foot of Frankenstein.

I felt light-headed.  I got short of breath.  I panicked.

And then I regained my composure, cleaned the wound, and dealt with reality.  I walked with a cane for several weeks.

Often, we ignore the extent of the damage we have done to ourselves.  Whether that be from poor diet, lack of exercise, drug use, or being a workaholic.  And ignoring the facts serves us – it allows us to soldier on.  It allows us to not panic.  And it allows us to keep going in pursuit of goals that beckon our attention when we really need to pause.

But eventually we have to look at the wounds we have created.  We have to see the harsh reality.  And then we have to get a grip, clean the wound, and deal with it.

No matter how far down the wrong path we have gone, we can always turn back.  It’s never too late to change.  It’s never too late to start cleaning the wounds.

We might need a cane for a while.  But eventually, if we deal with reality and change course for the better, we’ll walk with a spring in our step that we never had before.

We’ll be better than ever.

Have you ignored pain and damage in pursuit of a goal?  Did a temporary ignoring of physical, mental, or emotional injury serve you, or did you allow it to linger into permanency?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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I tend to keep things somewhat Spartan. . .

I don’t own a television or carry a cell phone.  I only keep one set of dishes in my kitchen.  And the bulk of my wardrobe consists of two pairs of jeans and three black t-shirts.  But then I read a post from Johnny B. Truant and thought. . . I can do better.

Johny is undergoing an experiment in quasi-minimalism where he is getting rid of 10 things each day for the month of May.  As I read about his experiment, I could hear echos of the infinite Fight Club loop that plays in my head about the things I own actually owning me.  I relished the thought of unloading my useless crap in daily heaps of garbage can visits and thrift store donations.  I began getting rid of 10 things per day immediately.

I also have an ulterior motive.  I’m considering selling my home so I can be more mobile.  With my income being generated online, I like the thought of moving to a new city every year or two at the end of an apartment lease.  Or living in Mexico for the winter like Corbett Barr.  Or traveling the world for months at a time while still taking care of business like my buddy Steve Kamb.  But right now I have far too much crap in my life to be mobile.  It’s time to pare things down to the bare necessities.

So here’s a little commentary on my first 10 days of getting rid of stuff.  As an unexpected benefit, this experiment is also helping me clear out some emotional clutter.  It turns out I’ve been hanging on to much more than just old computer monitors and rice cookers.

Throwing Out The Armory

I’ve studied various martial arts since the age of ten.  And over the years I’ve collected an assortment of knives, nunchakus, throwing stars, swords, and other weapons.  But I can’t remember the last time I trained with any of them.  Not thinking they would be appropriate for thrift store donation, all weapons were thrown in the trash.

"Weapons are tools of ill omen." - Sun Tzu, The Art Of War

So Hard To Say Good Bye

It’s been over a year now since my martial arts and fitness facility went out of business.  When I first shut down, I remember throwing out all of my old t-shirts with my business logo on them and how it seemed to give me some release.  But when I found framed pictures of my former students and the first press coverage I received in my attic during one of my ten-items-per-day purge fests, I hesitated to add them to the day’s trash heap.

But why? Keeping these items tucked in my attic was not going to bring back glory days or cure the mistakes I made as a teacher and business owner.  Placing those items in the garbage was hard, but I know it was the right thing to do.

Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past

My bathroom was full of contact solution, hair pins, conditioners, lotions, and other toiletries that were remnants of ex-girlfriends.  It’s hard to have an emotional attachment to contact solution and these items were easy to place in the trash.  But one item was not so easy to dispose of. . .

I found an old cell phone in a drawer and I knew the only reason I was holding on to it was because there was a text message on it from her.  And not just any text message, but the text she sent me that started everything.  Our relationship was up and down, exciting and frustrating, and ultimately ended with her breaking off all communication between us.  I haven’t seen her in over a year.  I suppose I should have recycled or donated the cell phone. . .  but it went in the trash.

A Tale Of Two Monks

Getting rid of ten items per day and being surprised at my emotional attachment to certain items reminds me of the following parable:

Two monks were walking down a path.  These monks had taken extreme vows of celibacy and were forbidden from even looking at a woman, let alone having physical contact of any sort.

As they were walking along the path, they saw a beautiful woman standing at the edge of stream.  The woman appeared afraid to cross over the water.

Without hesitation, the older monk scooped her up in his arms, carried her across the water, and set her down gently at the other side of the stream.  As the two monks walked away from the woman, the younger monk was irate over the senior monk’s actions.

“How could you do that!  You are certainly aware of our vows and know that we are forbidden to touch a woman, let alone pick her up in our arms, under any circumstances!”

The older monk looked at the younger monk and said, “I left the woman at the edge of the stream.  Are you still carrying her?“

Do you own items that you no longer use?  Are you holding on to them for reasons that no longer serve you?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Be on the lookout for Part 2 of my three part series about my experience of getting rid of 10 things per day.  To be notified when Part 2 of this series comes out, be sure to sign up for email updates by clicking here.

“I sentence you to death, by electrocution.”

I stood in the back of a packed courtroom.  And when I say packed, I mean packed.  There were television and newspaper reporters, courthouse employees who had stolen away from their desks and cubicles, the families of multiple victims, and most of my fellow interns from the county prosecutor’s office.

“I sentence you to death, by electrocution.”

I was in my third year of law school, taking classes at night while working as an intern for the prosecutor’s office full time, and I was given the job of writing the pretrial motions for one of the most sensationalized murder cases to take place in Columbus, Ohio.  Today I don’t remember how many counts of murder the defendant was up for, I just remember there were several.  And the judge read the sentence for each and every count.

“I sentence you to death, by electrocution.”

It was a heinous criminal rampage.  A man made a hit list, drove from home to home of former coworkers and and ex-girlfriends, knocked on their doors, and then pulled the trigger.  I remember watching the testimony of one of the victims (who survived the attack but was left with permanent damage of his arm) and trying to imagine what it would be like to open your front door and be met with gunfire.

Most chilling for me was writing a motion asking the court to allow a 911 recording to be admitted into evidence.  This 911 recording was of a seven year old boy who hid under a dining room table while he watched this man shoot four people, killing three including a four-month old baby.  The motion I wrote was denied as the judge ruled that admitting the recording into evidence would unnecessarily inflame the passions of the jury.

“I sentence you to death, by electrocution.”

The man was stopped after kicking in the door of an ex-girlfriend and being shot in the chest by her husband.  But the man was wearing a bullet proof vest and survived with minor injuries.

If there was ever a situation where the death penalty was warranted, this was it.  Prior to that day if you would have asked me, I would have easily answered that I was in favor of the death penalty.  Hell, if you had described this exact scenario to me – a man making unexpected murder calls to the front doors of innocent people – I probably would have said that I’d strap him in the chair and throw the switch my damned self.

But here I was, listening to the sentence of death get read over an over and feeling sicker to my stomach with each repetition.  It was not a reaction I was expecting.

My involvement in the case was minor – I wasn’t even a lawyer yet.  The crime certainly fit my theoretical views on what would warrant the punishment of death…  But this was not theory.  A man was sentenced to death and I was undeniably uncomfortable with my involvement, no matter how small.

My belief in the death penalty was challenged.  Reality trumped theory.  And I couldn’t help but wonder how many other of my “beliefs” would crumble under real-world application.

It made me wonder if you can ever really know – unless you do.

How have your beliefs been challenged?  What was the result? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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