Nobody asked for this, but that has never stopped me before.

I’ve fallen into a pretty consistent morning routine, which is either a sign of discipline or that I’m slowly becoming my father. Jury’s still out.

First thing: I drink a glass of water. Hydration. Health. Also, because every article on the internet says that if you don’t, you’ll die immediately.

Then I go downstairs and make coffee. Real coffee.  While I drink it, I read the Bible. Yes—every single day. I’ve been doing that for about a year and three months now.

Last year I read it straight through, cover to cover. This year, I’m mixing it up—four chapters a day from different books using a reading plan (M’Cheyne plan, if you care). It makes me feel both spiritual and efficient, which is really the goal.

After that, I read the newspaper while eating something light. I also take my vitamins at this point, because apparently I’m now the kind of person who has “a vitamin routine.”

Then I get dressed and head to work early. On the drive, I listen to an audiobook. So technically, I’ve already hydrated, caffeinated, prayed, eaten, supplemented, and read the Bible, current events, and a book.  I should feel good about myself by now, productive, but I’m me, so I don’t.

At work, I usually have about 45 minutes before the day starts. First up: journaling. I know. Younger me would absolutely roast current me for this. But it works. It helps me focus on gratitude, clears out the mental clutter, and gives me a few minutes of actual quiet.

Then I do the daily chess puzzle. Current streak: 215 days. At this point, I’m less interested in improving at chess and more interested in not breaking the streak and having an existential crisis.

After that, I prep for classes like a responsible adult.

I track a few of these habits, so by this point in the day, I’ve already checked off:

• Drink Water
• Read Bible
• Vitamins
• Journal
• Read a Book

Not bad for before the first period.

During my first prep period of the school day, I’ll pick up my bass guitar for at least 30 minutes.  I don’t need to prep because I came in early to do that. During lunch, I do the New York Times crossword, because nothing says “relaxing break” like being humbled by a clue about a 1970s opera.  During my second prep period, I go for a run a few times a week or I practice ASL.

After school, I work out and practice ASL if I can’t do them during the workday. And that pretty much wraps up all my “habits” and to-dos for the day.

Now, if this sounds like I’ve got everything dialed in and live a perfectly structured, productive life…just know this is the same person who still considers sitting on the couch the gold standard of “real free time.”

Balance.

I recently listened to something by Mel Robbins where she said you should tell someone your goals. Apparently saying them out loud makes them more real. Accountability, psychology, magic—whatever. It worked just enough that I’m writing them down here.

These are not resolutions. I don’t do resolutions. Resolutions are made to be broken sometime between January 12th and the first unexpected snowstorm. These are goals. Aspirations. Gentle nudges toward a slightly better version of myself.

So, here we go.

The Big Goals

• Lose 20 pounds. Ideally be as close to wedding weight as possible by 10/11/26 (180 lbs.). I am realistic enough to know this won’t happen by wishing it into existence.
• Finish Ironman Wisconsin 2026. Not podium. Just finish. Upright.
• Learn to drum. By “learn,” I mean keep a steady beat and throw in a fill without derailing the entire song.
• Continue learning ASL. And actually use it, not just collect signs like trivia.
• Volunteer at least once a month. Be useful. Show up.

What That Probably Requires

This is the less glamorous part.

• Fewer martinis (or none)
• Less junk food (or none)
• More fruits and vegetables
• Healthier Blue Apron choices
• Pizza capped at once a week (and not frozen—standards matter)
• Fewer processed foods (or not)

Training-wise: actually follow the plan from the Fink book instead of “mostly” following it while convincing myself I’m still disciplined.

Music-wise: practice daily. This assumes a drum kit appears at Christmas. If not, I will continue tapping on desks and steering wheels like a menace.  Play bass/guitar during lunch at work.

ASL-wise: practice daily and set aside one weekend night where my wife and I only communicate in sign. This will either deepen our connection or end in laughter and wildly incorrect grammar. Possibly both.

The Reality Check

Full transparency: tonight I am having a martini and frozen pizza. I’m not pretending otherwise. After that, I’m draining the beer in the fridge and mailing the remaining kits and Pinter to my friend Bob. I don’t need that much beer in my life. Someone else will enjoy it more.

I’ll keep exercising over break. I’ll start tightening up my eating—not because it’s terrible now, but because it could be better. And I’ll keep working on ASL.

I also signed up to volunteer on New Year’s Day. That felt like a good way to start—doing something outward-facing instead of just making inward promises.

The Martini Problem (and Other Substances)

The martini is always going to be a thing. It’s not why I gained weight (that honor belongs mostly to teaching), and one a week isn’t a health crisis. But I am curious what life looks like with less stuff in it—less alcohol, fewer processed foods, less reliance on caffeine and meds.

I want to see what baseline me looks like when I:

• exercise regularly – sunlight, fresh air, moving my body
• interact with people intentionally – seek out opportunities to be with others instead of sitting on my couch doom scrolling.
• feel connected to something bigger than myself

No Policing, Just Posting

I’m not asking anyone to hold me accountable. That’s not fair, and it never works anyway. This is just me putting the goals out into the universe… and onto my blog… because saying them out loud feels like a small but meaningful step.

That’s it.
Goals, not resolutions.
Pizza tonight but start intentions tomorrow
Work tomorrow – without complaining but using the “I get to….” motto.

I hate to admit this, but an Instagram reel made me think.

Not a book. Not a sermon. Not years of wisdom distilled by a philosopher who lived in a cave. A reel. White text on a black background. Probably set to some mellow piano music.

The message went something like this:
An ignorant person blames others. A person who is growing blames himself. A wise person doesn’t blame anyone.

And annoyingly… it hit.

For most of my adult life, I’ve skipped right past blaming other people. Traffic, coworkers, the system, my upbringing — none of that really sticks for me. When something goes sideways, my reflex is to look inward.

What did I do wrong?
What should I have done differently?
Why didn’t I see this coming?

That feels mature. Responsible. Enlightened, even.

Except… sometimes it’s just self-flagellation with better branding.

The reel made me realize that while blaming myself is better than blaming everyone else, it’s still blame. It still comes with a quiet background soundtrack of guilt, second-guessing, and replaying conversations in my head like I’m studying game film after a bad loss.

The idea of not blaming anyone — including myself — feels like a whole different level. One I’m not fully at yet, but one I like the sound of.

Not blaming anyone doesn’t mean shrugging and saying, “Oh well, nothing matters.” It doesn’t mean not taking responsibility or refusing to change. It just means I can look at something and say, “That didn’t go the way I wanted,” without immediately turning it into a character indictment.

No villain. No idiot. No internal scolding.

Just… information.

Around the same time, I saw another post that stuck with me:
Everything in life happens for me, not to me.

I know. That sentence alone probably made some people roll their eyes so hard they pulled a muscle. It sounds like something printed on a mug next to a candle that smells like eucalyptus and optimism.

But still — I liked it.

Not because I think every bad thing is secretly a gift wrapped in misery, but because it reframes the question. Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” it becomes “What am I supposed to do with this?”

That’s a subtle shift, but it matters.

This all ties into a mantra I’ve been working on most of this year: swapping “I have to” with “I get to.”

I don’t have to work out. I get to run today.
I don’t have to run errands. I get to hang out with my wife while we do them.
I don’t have to deal with responsibilities. I get to — because having them means I’m still very much in the game.

Some days this works better than others. Some days my inner voice still wakes up grumpy and skeptical, arms crossed, muttering, “Let’s not get carried away here.”

I don’t think I’ll ever be Mr. Upbeat. That’s not my brand. I’m not going to start greeting life with jazz hands and unsolicited positivity.

But I can aim to not be Daddy Downer.

I can notice when I’m blaming myself for things that are just… part of being human. I can stop acting like every misstep needs a lesson plan and a penalty box. I can keep working to change what needs changing without beating myself up for not having already changed it.

So yes, an Instagram reel made me think.
I’m not thrilled about it.
But if wisdom shows up where it shows up, I guess I’ll take it — without blaming anyone.