This is my journal entry from August 3, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Author in St. Petersburg — my real, unedited days, published in order.
This morning, I played tennis against someone I beat easily, and it felt good not to be the newest guy on the court for once. The win made me appreciate all the players who’ve beaten me countless times, pushing me to sharpen my game through loss after loss. Their victories helped build my consistency, and today I felt that pay off.
Tonight was my home group Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. The topic was God—repeated again and again by those sharing—and it reminded me of what saved me early in sobriety. I learned that the real work is finding a greater version of myself to identify with, something far bigger than my life story, gender, race, or history. My higher power is the awareness that I am part of the universe, part of the multiverse, part of all that is. This body is simply a creation of mine in this moment, a temporary expression of something infinite. That perspective still amazes me.
After the meeting, I spoke with my sponsor and a few others, met some new faces, and enjoyed the conversations. The young woman sitting next to me caught my attention—probably around twenty years old, which once seemed old but now feels very young. She seemed to be carrying some pain, and I silently prayed for her, sending love and joy in her direction so she might feel it. I didn’t say anything aloud, but she seemed to sense it. She gave me a big smile when she passed me the basket. That’s one of the things I love about prayer: when you focus loving thoughts on the person right next to you—whether it’s at an AA meeting or in a yoga class—they often feel it, and you often feel something reflected back.
I didn’t make it to yoga today, although I did get a massage. It was a mix of quiet time and conversation, much of it centered on the insanity we face when we try to make real change or cut out destructive habits. The irony is that something clearly good for us can feel so bad. When I pawned my video game consoles, logic told me it was the right decision—an act that would open my time, space, and energy—yet irrationality screamed that it was a mistake, that I wanted them back.
This afternoon, I listed five or six items on OfferUp, including my Ableton Push 3, other music gear, and my gaming PC. I used all their three-day trial boosts, but so far, no bites. It’s frustrating that Facebook Marketplace has swallowed the secondhand local market, leaving few good alternatives. Still, I’m in a position where if these items don’t sell there, I can unload the music gear at Guitar Center, move what I can on eBay, and donate the rest to Salvation Army. When you have enough, you don’t need to nickel-and-dime every sale for five, ten, or even a hundred extra dollars.
I especially want the music gear gone because it lingers in my mind the same way video games used to. My massage therapist and I also talked about how so many of us claim we want better lives—we complain, we suffer, we talk about what’s wrong—but we hide the truth of our struggles from others. We share only when we’re doing well and keep our darker realities private, or at best, we vent about them without ever inviting change. Often the last thing people want is for someone to truly examine their lives and offer them a way out, because that would mean the death of the old ego and the birth of a new one. I spoke about this indirectly because she didn’t seem interested in a full-on free life coaching session. I tried to lead the horse to water, but she wasn’t thirsty.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.