Man, folks, I’m so sorry to follow up one serious post with a second serious post. I swear I’ll be funnier next time. But I promised that I was going to come out from behind the curtain a bit and act like a real person. I promised I would say what’s on my mind.
And the fact is that right now I am so incredibly pissed off, and afraid, and generally on the edge of my seat because I feel like something is supposed to happen — is in fact overdue to happen — but it just won’t. I’m so frustrated.
Let me tell you my deep, dark secret.
I am in such an incredibly shitty financial situation right now. It’s like a bottomless pit, and the only way out of it is to become exactly the person I’m supposed to be in the first place. Which is ironic, and appropriate, and really irritating because it’s just not happening. Or rather, it’s happening, but too slowly. Or rather, maybe it’s happening pretty quickly, but I just don’t know because the whole “becoming” process is still very young.
But the point is that every month I pay the bills, and every month I scrap for jobs doing stuff I don’t even like doing (okay, don’t get me wrong… it’s good work, but it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing) and every month I have this giant monster at my heels that demands this huge sum of money in addition to the regular bills.
Called real estate.
I own a bunch of real estate in Cleveland. It’s not bad for what it is (which is “Cleveland real estate”), but I bought it for too much and bought it too fast then the market fell like a brick and I’ve got all of this shit that keeps being vacant and keeps needing repairs and keeps scaring the living shit out of me. Every month, I have to write a check to cover the shortfall. Never do the rents totally cover the expenses. I can’t sell it right now, and some of it I’d have to pay to get rid of. I feel like I got screwed by a fast-talking agent, but who signed the paperwork? Me, that’s who.
I got myself into this, and the only way out is to become the writer I always said I’d become. Really.
And a little bit of backstory on that:
Nine years ago, working a job that was stealing my soul, I started having panic attacks. While I was in the midst of what used to be the most frightening months of my life, I started writing a novel about the college life I had been missing. It was called The Bialy Pimps and was about a revolt in a bagel deli. (You know, something we can all relate to. And by the way, a “bialy” is a type of bagel.)
This never did get published. I want to publish it still someday, but for now, I just sort of “have it.” (It’s actually still awesome. I just read some of it yesterday and laughed my ass off.)
But anyway, while I was writing it, I thought, “This is what I’m supposed to be doing.” My dad played psychologist and told me that great art comes from pain. I don’t know if my novel was great art, but it was pretty fucking funny and was born during a lot of pain.
I finished the book. Got out of the job. And then, I couldn’t write anymore. Seriously; I tried several more times to write SOMETHING, ANYTHING creative. Short stories. Countless attempts at second novels. Nothing would come, because I had gotten comfortable in a new routine, writing nonfiction magazine articles and building websites. My dad kept bothering me to keep trying to write. I tried but couldn’t. Eventually I gave up.
And I had been so certain I was supposed to be a writer. I had it all figured out; I would picture it in my head and think of how my days would go and it all felt so right. It would be so, so awesome. There was this shitty little TV show on at the time that nobody saw and that only lasted like three episodes called Stark Raving Mad. It starred Tony Shaloub as an obsessive-compulsive writer (maybe it was the inspiration for Monk?) and there was this one episode where his assistant or whoever screwed up his OCD routine and he was like “NO, first I get the paper THEN I buy my muffin THEN a cup of coffee THEN I lick the lamppost and THEN I write” or some shit. And it’s not like I’m all OCD but it struck something in me and I thought, “I could see myself having that routine. Minus the lamppost.”
But, no. The creative writing wouldn’t come. I kept writing articles and building websites.
Then I bought this real estate. Then it got bad. Then worse. And then the economy collapsed. This fucking economy that I keep trying to tell myself doesn’t need to be happening happened, and things got a LOT worse.
I remember sitting in the same chair I’m sitting in now, and it’s not like I’m all religious, but I do believe in God, and I said, “What should I do?” Not like a plea of desperation or whatever but like maybe he’d give me a nudge. And what came into my mind was this: I realized I had all of these old newsletters I used to email out that were just sitting there, and I realized that I had the novel, and it was like, “I should start a blog. I should try to make a living selling and using what I have.”
That was about six months ago. I’ve got some readers, and it’s cool, and I’m making connections, and that’s cool. But I still don’t make money being Johnny B. online, and still I do these websites and I still write magazine articles, and every month I fight to make enough money doing it… and every month, I have to write that fucking check for my failing real estate empire. And it’s often a large check.
And then I panic for a while.
I was paying the bills today and something snapped. It dawned on me that I’ve had it. That I’m not going to take it anymore. It dawned on me that I’m so tired, so terribly, terribly tired. I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of worrying all the time. I’m tired of doing my regular job and prospecting for even more regular job work as well as writing this blog and trying to make money online and trying to network and be funny and wait for something to go, and work and work and work, and worry and worry and worry.
I’m not despairing here. I don’t do despair, or at least, I don’t do it for long. I get pissed. And right now, I’m so pissed that it has to be this way. I’m so, so pissed at this current situation and am going to find a way to change it if it kills me. I’m going to find a way to be the writer I’m supposed to be, making my living being funny and interesting and creative. I’m going to do it, somehow, some way… and I’m going to do it so well that I’m going to buy my way out of this mess I’m in.
I’m so, so mad.
I fucking hate real estate. HATE it. Eventually I’ll write a book that they’ll stock next to Robert Kiyosaki’s books, and it will be called Why Real Estate is a Big Fat Ugly Whore That Should Be Beaten With a Club and the subhead will be Not That Whores Should Be Beaten With Clubs, but Real Estate is Such a Giant Whore That I’ll Make an Exception, and Also it Should be Drowned in Lye.
I hate being afraid to get the mail. I hate seeing email from certain people (property managers, insurance people) and being afraid to open it. I hate that I’m nervous when my wife goes downstairs into her office because that’s where she does the paperwork and pays the business bills. I hate these stupid little Post-Its she sticks on things to tell me how much extra money the fucking real estate business needs this month. I hate thinking about houses. I hate thinking about taxes, bills, money in general; I hate it when I see a real estate book on my shelf and I hate how I cringe when I’m playing this Bingo-like game with my son and the “house” tile comes up. I hate envelopes in the mail, and particularly the ripping sound of mail being opened. I hate credit cards, lines of credits, and banks. I hate this pile of shit on my floor that I’m supposed to get around to handling. I hate the city offices, the water department, the electric company… all of it.
I hate that my solution so far is to go out and stump for more of this work that I don’t want to do. I hate that to solve the problem in the short term, I seek more of what I shouldn’t be doing with my life.
I hate going in to see my kids at night and feeling bad when I see them lying peacefully asleep, because I worry every day that it’s all going to fall apart.
I HATE IT. I HATE FEELING LIKE A VICTIM.
And I know I’m not the only one. I think this is the emotion of the times: Fear. Like a giant test of faith. Like something that will serve us if we can just heed its message and act. If we’ll just take this fucking economy by the balls and say, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
This is all a very long-winded way of saying that this is WHY I’m working with Naomi of IttyBiz. Because halfway through writing this post, I realized that it sounded familiar.
It sounded like her page about Online Business School. Which was my very, very first contact with Naomi. Someone (I think it might have been @kt_writes on Twitter? Not sure) linked to that page and said, “I’m not ashamed to say this made me cry.” So I read it. And became an IttyBiz fan. And bought the Online Business School product. And am using it now. And you will watch me as I use it, which is the reason for all of this recent turbulence around here.
Somehow, some way, I’m going to make my living writing and doing fun shit online. Because I’m too mad to let anything else continue.
Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’re mad. If so, I feel your pain – oh, do I feel it. Maybe you’ll try to do what I’m doing. Maybe you’ll follow along, and we’ll see just how well that Online Business School really works.
Again, sorry for the rant. Funny next time.
Wow, that’s actually pretty hard for me to read because it hits home. Keep me posted on your progress, okay?
Thank you for this painful but hitting home article. 2008 was the worst year of my life and several nervous breakdowns, years of delusions and being forced to face reality, I ended up back home,
Johnny,
Parts of what you wrote really connected with me – sometimes shockingly so as it was almost word for word.
Rather than anger, I’m in a state of droopy-eared-ness. Too tired to feel GRRRRRR at the mo’.
Thanks for your post, though. I can see how you’ve moved forward from it and I’m really glad you’re in a better place, doing more of what you really want to do.
take care…
MORE of, yes. But I find that “real work” is really getting in the way.
You know, it’s funny… the closer I get to doing what I really want, the harder it is to do the stuff I “have” to do for the whole day job thing. Hmm.
Great post–honest and vulnerable. (Read it after your referenced it in your copyblogger post about getting more comments). I think it’s Stephen King who says to just tell the truth in your writing. You did.
I can relate to the fear and worry. Obviously, you’re not surprised that a lot of people can.
Thanks for telling the truth.
Yep, Stephen King… one of my favorites, and I know he makes that point in “On Writing.” This all (the Copyblogger stuff and the posts here) comes down to being yourself as much as possible. People will either like it and resonate with it or not.
Thanks!
I’ve been there and I believe many of us passed through the same ‘victim state’. The point is that one has to accept his/her fears in order to overcome them. There’s no doubt people who really try to do what they REALLY want will succeed.
Thanks for the honest post!
I think it all has a purpose. I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing if not for this calamity, honestly. Is it time for me to look back on it and laugh yet?
you got me between the eyes. the absolute ugly ass world and your merry go-round, cant get off the ride (real estate hell) is well .. YOUR daddy had it right .. pain will be gain for you my friend. keep going , keep doing , and keep BELIEVEing. Keep writing. keep writing. keep writing. opps did I just say that again out loud.
The incredible observation of you saying “you already have what you need” is a epiphany for me a few years ago in a break down of FAITH. So to see someone else reiterate it now, speaks volumes! You got it, now, so use it. Make it work. but never lose your faith in yourself, support system (pray bro!) and this too shall pass.
Hope to be a paying fan one day soon… still cracking my nut… (so to speak) in the female persausion-of making my way down the highway.
cheers
I wanted to be sure to reply to this to let you know that I wrote it on 3/25/09, and that less than a year later what you say was proven totally correct, and that by today in June of ’10, it’s 180 degrees turned around.
The interesting thing is that it took a lot of faith for that journey and that it was never really easy, but it was ultimately simple…. just hang on.
I understand you so much. Me and my wife have also invested in real estate and were pretty much screwed up. Its not that we do not have it. It even brings some profit every month, but still, i would feel so much better if I could have at least get the amount of money I have paid for it back (not speaking that we were planning on selling it eventually for about 1.5 of what it cost).
That one moment in my life alongside with lots of others like that taught me that if it is your life and your responsibility, YOU should hold it in your hands, cause nobody else can be as much caring for the damn thing as you. My wife was handling the whole deal and her father helped her, I wasn’t even there (though at that moment I wouldn’t have made a huge difference).
At least now I know that when you are spending that large bunch of money, you should know EXACTLY what documents should be in place and what things should be checked or not mess with it at all.
Yep. The way I’ve looked at this recently is almost in the form of a life’s credo or purpose statement or something:
My income must come from my own creation. I will not rely on chance, arbitrage, or the action of things outside of my immediate control.
In short, I’m going to do what *I* can do to earn, and never invest as a primary income vehicle again. When you add value, you earn. The rest? Who knows.
I am a Vietnam Veteran and worked all my life. My retirement was supposed to be a relaxing time but no, I’m still in the crap sucking world of bills. We bought a small piece of property as an investment in 05. No it’s worth half the amount owed. So it steals all of our money along with all the credit cards that helped us keep it during tax time. I have to pay school taxes on the vacant lot we bought along with school taxes where we live. Taxation Without Representation!
Who got the bailouts? What about us? My American Dream is a shit filled nightmare. If you let it go back to the bank they will sue you for the unmet balance after auction. So we are screwed. I am pissed. I feel helpless. I want to kick the shit out of someone and I am normally a peace loving person.
Apologies never necessary for passionate writing! I know where you’re coming from and even in times of comfortable/uncomfortable health, finances-whatever it might have been…. I’ve had that chicken little feeling and kept waiting for the sky to fall and sometimes it did! It’s at time like this when the “someone has it worse” advice is crap! In the long run that really doesn’t help solve anything. It’s what comes from being fired up(funny or not) like you are now. I was told once by this Thor Holt guy to go KICK FEAR IN THE NUTS and see what happens! That seemed to have suited my personality well- So good luck Johnny when you have your go at kicking fear in the nuts!
You should see my medical provider. Dr. U.B. Alright. I bought expensive lakefront property because we misread my wifes retirement amount which turned out to be $100 a month. We have a Cadillac dream and a Mini Van Retirement. No I don’t drive a mini van because I just don’t think it’s right to cruise in the express lane. When I get up in the morning I go through a list of the horrifying items I can not solve or control. I do what I can and then move on. I call it damage control. “Scotty whats going on down there?. Everything is smokin Captain”. It’s like ground hog day over and over and over. You’ll make it despite the suffering. I accidently came across your blog and I was sucked in to reading it and I found it interesting and familar to my happiness with real estate horror. A non fictional nightmare of the times. Do the morning ritual of not being able to fix anything then cleanse your mind and start writing. . U.B.Alright
Yeah, this story had a happy ending. In case it’s not clear, I wrote this post around 18 months ago when things were really hairy. They’re quite good now… testament to what you’re talking about, with damage control and handling what you can without worrying more than necessary about the rest. Alright indeed.
Thank you for this. I’m sorry that you had to go through all the crap, but I am so relieved to read that you were here, because now you are not. You are in this other, much better, happier place, which means that it’s possible, and that possibility is worth everything. :>
Happy Thurs & Turkey Day!
Let’s not forget the most important thing, and it’s that I’m grateful for this experience. The lessons I couldn’t learn any other way besides the hard way have been invaluable. And without all of this pain, I never would have done what it took to get to where I am today. Sometimes, complacency is a cage.
Hindsight rules!
Actually, re-reading the whole post again 20 months later gave me chills. And amused me. I like this line best:
Yeah. That changed.
Johnny,
I’m so glad I got to read this article. I desperately needed to read this. I finally feel like I understand you now. I came here from the How to Write Your Ass Off article, which you mentioned on the Black Sheep call.
You got to where you are now because of the hole you were in. It’s not too blunt to say that hate drove you to success.
For the first time, I realize I’m not alone.
Thanks man. Funny thing is, it’s been just over 2 years now since I wrote this, and looking back, I remember how I knew AS I WROTE IT that it was a manifesto of sorts, and that I’d look back on it as a turning point. Things were really shitty when I wrote this, and there was really no dependable light at the end of the tunnel yet visible. But I knew it meant something, and that whenever things did improve, that this would be the time when it started.
And you’re 100% correct. I’ve often said that I’m thankful for the experience. If it hadn’t gotten bad enough to whip me from behind, I would have complacently stayed at the “good enough” level I was at a year before I wrote this.