GRATITUDE.

There's something about gratitude that really stuck out to me this Thanksgiving. I guess that's to be expected from (arguably) the best year of one's life. That's right, folks. This time last year I was hopelessly unemployed, mildly heartbroken and holding onto my sanity like the Hang In There Cat. But just like that, life took a turn for the best. I'd like to take some time to reflect on the things I've been most thankful for in the last 365 days. 

(Reader's Note: I said "things" intentionally. Due to my fear of being too sappy and/or accidentally forgetting to thank somebody, this list will not address specific humans.)

Door Number 3

My Savior

So there I was, salting a drumstick with my tears while sitting at the same dining room table I'd been eating at since the day I was born. Despite my mom's attempt to put my dismal life into perspective with her patented, "at least you're alive," speil, I saw little reason to be thankful on Thanksgiving of 2010. All I had to show for two years of advertising portfolio school was 60K in student loans, a failed relationship, an inbox full of rejection e-mails, an outbox full of unrequited inquiries and a Facebook newsfeed informing me that I was the only copywriter from my quarter who remained unemployed. (It didn't literally say that, but I did the math.) 

My job hunt got so bad, I found myself eagerly waiting by the phone to schedule my FOURTH Books A Million interview. I shit you not, it takes FOUR F**KING interviews to restock Twilight novels and place porno mags out of the reach of infants and midgets. A week later I received two employment related phone calls. The first was BAM telling me my criminal background check was a success. (Again, I'm being 100% serious. They are 110% serious.) The second was an advertising agency (who will remain unnamed), offering to fly me out for an interview! FINALLY! But the four-leaf-clover wasn't plucked from my butt just yet. While packing my bags for an undisclosed (to you) city, I received a SECOND invitation from a "boutique" agency called Door Number 3. Which brings me to my next acknowledgment...

The City of Austin, Texas

Two of my four vehicles.

You guessed it. Or, maybe you didn't. Either way, I went with the little guy in the "Everything's Bigger" State. However, a salary wasn't my only reason for relocating to a land where the "weird" and the jackalope play. I've adored this city ever since I attended the 2008 SXSW Film Festival. As a matter of fact, Austin was the ONLY city south of Atlanta on my, "I guess I could live here," list. Reason being, THE HEAT!

But aside from this summer's record-breaking temperatures, which also set a new standard for my testicular condensation, I have loved discovering this city. From the food trailers and coffee shops I frequent enough to become "a regular," to the homeless man who frequently cheers me on when I pass him on my way to work, I really feel like this city has embraced me. A VERY warm embrace.

Speaking of foot-powered transportation...

Bike Tyson

Clear the way when you hear the bell ringing.

What's big, black and sounds kind of effeminate? Mike Tyson, which is why Bike Tyson was the only suitable name for my XL 2011 Specialized Crosstrail Sport with a golden Incredibell attached to the handlebar. Does it sound like I'm describing a car (excluding the bell part)? That's because IT IS my car.

After totaling my family's hand-me-down automobile back in Myrtle Beach and discovering the total amount of my outstanding student loans (two more reasons why I hated life back then), I quickly realized car ownership was not in my cards. Luckily, there were THREE bike shops within a square mile of my new digs. One month of bus riding was all it took to put my ass in gear to get some wheels (two, to be exact). 

As it turns out, the saying, "it's like riding a bike," is a bunch of BS. For me, riding a bike is like cursive handwriting. It took me weeks to regain the skills I first acquired in elementary school. Despite the daily taint stains, the complete lack of sex appeal and one nasty spill that nearly turned me into Christoper Reeves, I have relearned to love this cost-effective means of transportation. It's also the driving force behind my next reason to be appreciative.

Yelp

Can't see? http://okmarkok.yelp.com/

Say what you will about the self-righteous internet critics who stifle your restaurant search with their literary voice, Yelp is the most emotionally rewarding writer's circle I have ever been a part of. I'm well aware that most people probably find my judgmental novellas to be needless wastes of space, but those negative assessments are entirely negated every time I find a compliment in my inbox.

But extracurricular writing isn't the only vice Yelp enables. It also encourages my culinary cartography. Sadly I've tried more restaurants in my eleven car-less months in Austin than I did in two fully-mobile years in Atlanta. If it weren't for the fostering Yelp community, I'd probably spend my weekends eating home-assembled turkey sandwiches while "starting my first novel starts." Not to mention, this blog would probably be nonexistent. What do Yelp and this blog have in common?

You People 

Visual approximation of fan base, not taken to scale.

What do I mean, "you people?" I'm referring to anyone who takes or has taken the time to read one of my rants. Whether it be by accident, intentional support or an irresistible hate, I greatly appreciate every tally you create on my Yelp or blog analytics. A bigger man would write in spite of his audience. I write to delight my audience. So thanks, you people. If it weren't for you, this downtime would have been spent on Hulu or another handy form of streaming video.


Yes, I was alluding to porn.