Some of you may be aware that aside from my devotion to training and nutrition, I carry a competing level of devotion to music. I not only seek out music, but I also create it. Over the years, I have collected guitars, keyboards, pedals, software, microphones, etc. You name it and I’ve dabbled in it on some level. My primary abilities rest in vocal work and guitar, with sampling and electronic work close behind.
It is safe to say mastering instruments and the creation of music are extremely difficult. It takes a high level of desire and music knowledge. It takes dedication, technique, and education. I, like most who start out in music, was self-taught. Aside from chorus work with my school, I never saw the walls of formal music education. I wish I had, but it wasn’t in the cards during my youth. As I got older, I cared a lot more about the art and integrity of music (whatever that means) than my technical expertise. I had this idea that music shouldn’t be organized and rigid. It should be free. To make a long anecdote short, as the years went by my creative desires didn’t match up to my technical ability. There were things my heart and mind wanted to express, but my hands wouldn’t allow. The result often left me frustrated and ultimately not achieving the success I wanted.
What is the moral of the story? Never forget the importance of the doing things right the first time.
Greg’s Story
If you didn’t know, sometime in the next year or two I will be releasing 16 stories based on my clients. It’s called “Desperate To Lose” and was born one night during a pretty intense personal event. Each story has its own lesson and client their own journey. Not everything is full of rainbows and sunshine. Through my training time, I have experienced new life, death, and unstoppable desire. At this point, I have written 20 of them, and will narrow it down to 16 to share in that release. Greg’s story is one that will not make the book, but I think will be fitting for this situation. Here is a snippet of that material:
Greg is just about as stubborn as an individual can get. I don’t say was, because he still is. If Greg had a nickname, it would be “delusions of grandeur.” I would have called him DOG for short, but I feel that is being to mean to dogs. They have more common sense than Greg does. When my dog reaches an object he can’t clear, he goes around it. When Greg reaches an object he can’t clear, he goes through it and falls flat on his face.
Contrary to my tone and statements, I like Greg. He is a swell guy and we had a hell of a time hanging together outside of the gym. But, inside the gym, he was an idiot. Greg was full of piss and vinegar as my southern heritage would say. Country boy to the core, he stood around 5’11, 192 pounds, and roughly 16% body fat. There was nothing overly impressive about his body composition or much in the way of physique building. He wasn’t exceptionally strong for his size or training years. Greg in the gym was the precise definition of mediocrity. Continue Reading…
