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2010 Survey Results

After a long day in the sun at the 2010 Crossfit Games in LA, I've flopped into my Aeron in the RV, which is parked near my old stomping grounds in Hollywood. I found an amazing parking spot right near the Farmer's Market that has no street cleaning and is always empty at night. You'd be surprised how important things like street cleaning become when you live in an RV. Anyway, I don't have enough energy left to pull myself out of my chair, so it's time to tally up the survey results from a couple weeks ago and share what I learned.

Life Nomadic

This one was totally unexpected. Around a third of the people who responded said that they want more Life Nomadic. To be totally honest, I didn't know people were that interested in it. The site, when it was separate, never developed the same sort of following this site has.


On Manic Moments Beyond Wonderland


I had a stupid fight with my mom the morning she died. I never had the chance to apologize. Never had the chance to hug her and say I was sorry. People kept saying she already forgave me but that didn't make me feel any better. It made me feel more guilty. More angry at myself. Angry at everyone. Angry at God. I lost control of myself and I became mad. Crazy mad. And I took it out on everyone. If I didn't like how you looked at me, I will hurt you. Talk back at me and I will make sure you end up with your head in the toilet. Literally. Hurt me and I will stab you. Hurt my friends, I will murder you. I've been reported hundreds of times but was never given any sanction. Never been suspended, never expelled. Why? No one wants to talk. No one would dare be a witness. And the school admin always had doubts. You see, I wasn't your typical bully (I guess I wouldn't even call myself a bully, I was just an angry teenager), I had high grades. I was one of the top students in the whole campus. I was always chosen to participate and be on top of anything art and any literary shit they can throw at me: Poetry writing. Sketching. Free writing. Article writing. Painting. Short story writing. Essays. And, yes, even spelling bee! I was an A-student, but you'd still be in my shit list if you wronged me.

I was mean to a lot of people. Yes, I was bad, but there was this one person who never left my side. He was the only one who can talk back at me, look at me sternly, yell at me, and can persuade me to not kill someone. My bestfriend. Erick. I was once at the verge of murdering someone and he slapped me so hard, it nearly broke my neck. He was the only one who had the guts to do that. He slapped me so hard twice all those years of our friendship. That was the first one.

Here's a person who taught me how to control my anger. When I was mad, he used to take me up to the mountains and ask me to scream all my frustrations away. He told me that it's okay to cry.

When I got sick, my depression got the better of me and I nearly killed myself. Erick got there in time. Slapped me so hard and made me promise never to do it again. That was the second time. The last one. He brought me back.

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