It's 9AM

What Will You Do With All The Time You Have Left?

I’ve done a lot in this short life.

I say short because it’s going too fast.

I’m still coming to grips that I’ve only got fifty years left, unless we can come to some sort of breakthrough in the next two decades to extend it even further.

I wouldn’t mind.

I’ve talked about owning a gym, owning a driving range, a marketing company, a publishing company.

I’ve dug ditches to lay pipe for a real estate development and helped build a lawn company business that wasn’t my own.

I had a chance to go to Vegas with a marble flooring company and took an easy out. I’ve catered, and tended bar. I’ve moved furniture and cleaned pools. I’ve been a star salesman and been an even better low level executive.

And I’ve written a thousand stories.

Possibly more.

Probably because I’ve done a few things.

And could do more.

I mentioned making movies and winning awards, but way back when, my second year in college, I starred in a play.

It wasn’t much.  A showcase of shorts, directed by a class of senior directors and I went to open auditions on a whim.

Got picked by a female director to play a young Irish lad saying good bye to my sweetheart before I go out to get killed with the IRA.

Or by the IRA, I can’t remember which.

We practiced for weeks and learned I can’t do Irish accents.

Technically, my Irish accent sounds a lot like my Scottish accent, which is very close to my Australian accent, and all of it would sound to you like my southern Arkansas accent.

She decided I should just pronounce the words a little different and not to try the accent.

The performance was for a packed auditorium, because it was a showcase with roughly fifteen directors pulling off fifteen plays for their friends, families and theater lovers.

I’m not going to say I wowed them.

Because I’m sure I didn’t.

I fumbled my way through, got a tear from my better acting co-star and my first stage kiss.

There was applause, but the lights were in my eyes, so maybe it was just my friends standing up in the shadows.

That night, the director invited me to her place for one of my better college memories, and I didn’t act again until I tried to make a low budget movie in Los Angeles.

My role was a drunk guy duct taped to a chair with a gag in my mouth.

So I guess you could say I learned something from my acting experience.

I told my brother about it, who went to college and studied acting and pursued it for years.

He was in that low budget movie too.

The reason I’ve tried so many things is because I have so many interests.

And once I put my mind to something, I’ve got that mysterious old “I’ll figure it out,” attitude that brings some measure of success.

Plus my bar to survival is pretty low, thanks to some trips to real crapholes in other countries.

My definition of success is dry bed, decent food and a measure of comfort.

Which makes me easy to please in certain ways.

Impossible in others.

Because I’ve done so much, I know what I do and don’t want to do.

I don’t want to act anymore, except as an extra maybe.  The guy who says, “I’ll have what she’s having.”  That kind of stuff.

I’ve got too many ideas, too many irons in the fire for more than that.

Today, I outlined two movies I’ll never get to write, unless it’s a decade from now.

My slate is too full.

I also had a couple of ecommerce products that popped out on my list, enough worth pursuing.

And a buddy of mine reached out to ask if I knew anything about logistics and a transportation company because I told him about trucking water to California.

Someone asked me why I write these posts and put them up.

“What does it get you?”

She wanted to know if it paid.

If there was an ROI.

I wanted to tell her it gets me ideas.  That writing down ten ideas every day is exercise for my mind, that writing letters to people helps me clarify the ideas.

She said two words that stopped me from talking.

“For what?”

It could have been one.

“Why?”

I learned a long time ago that one thing that doesn’t work for me is arguing and debate.

Want to tell me your opinion on just about anything?

I’ll listen and tell you that you’re right.

And then talk to the girl who thinks the exact opposite of you who tells me how wrong you are and her contrarian view is better.

I’ll listen and tell her she’s right.

Because everybody is right.  Every single person is the sum of their experiences, and where they grew up and who they hang out with.

They are a collection of their thoughts and various inputs and are dear to their family and friends.

Those people have lived a life that’s made them who they are.

Some people might love them.

About the only kind of person I will not tolerate is a fascist Nazi.

There is a special circle in hell for them.

How can everyone have a correct opinion, you ask?

They can’t.

But there is usually no right or wrong answer, just grades of better solutions.

Except I do think there is one thing we all should agree on.

People who don’t use their blinkers are idiots.

All of ‘em.

Those people are wrong.  They’re going to hell with the fascists.

Other than that, we’re all good.

I’ve learned that much in life.

Buy me a coffee

You could be better than good though.

Upgrade your subscription to It’s 9AM today!

Start by grabbing:

Cosmic Gumbo - a sci fi mystery adventure

Fall Sci Fi and Fantasy Free Reading Festival

Then watch:

I told you yesterday that you’d get a free treat if you read this far down.

Click on the Youtube video, then check the pinned video at the top and get your link to a free book when you leave a comment.

That’s it. You leave a comment and get your free book.