The Red Car

I drove my 2002 white Honda Civic, whom I fondly refer to as Zoe, through the campus’ welcoming black gates. Almost intuitively, I unleashed the company badge from my belt and handed it to the middle-aged African-American man who greets me nearly every afternoon in my new hometown of Bristol, CT. I don’t know the man’s name, but I kind of like it that way.

“You’re all set, Troy. Go right ahead,” he says in his Southern-style accent.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good one my man,” I say with a sincere smile.

The lever lifts, and Zoe and I make our usual left turn into one of my company’s several parking lots. Every day, I reflect on the exchange the nice man and I just shared. If only everyone could treat each other with that kind of respect, the world would be such a happier place.

We arrive at the stop sign and look both ways to make sure none of the company’s seven-thousand employees is crossing the road. The parking lot sits to our left, and we zoom past its first entrance. And the next one. And the next one.

And the next one.

Until finally, we turn left into the last row of the lot. We glide toward the end of the lot as I strap my badge back to my belt, roll up the windows, and turn off the Mumford & Sons emanating from Zoe’s speakers.

Then, I looked up and saw it.

I couldn’t believe it.

I’m not a religious man, but I do understand and appreciate its place in the world. Whether it’s Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, or my personal favorite, Zoroastrianism, or any other religion you can name, one universal truth lay at the core of these different belief systems: we are not in complete control of our own lives.

These different religions require you to place your trust in a higher being, an all-knowing deity who always acts with your best interests in mind. In many cases, our lives are predestined. Your eventual fate is chosen for you from the get-go, and nothing you accomplish in your time on Earth can change that.

Whether you subscribe to the doctrines of predestination isn’t the point. We must all accept things happen that we simply cannot control. For example, you make a quick trip to the market to pick up that olive oil you need to cook dinner tonight. You only have that one item, but you see long lines at every register. And literally every person has an entire cart-load of stuff. You go to the self-checkout machines to find they’re out of commission for the day. Rage fills every fiber of your body, and you mope over to a line and stew in frustration as you await your turn.

Some things are just beyond your control. And you have to accept that.

OK, now back to the story.

The second I saw it, a dozen questions immediately flooded my head. Feelings of bewilderment preceded the anger crawling up my spine.

I’m the only one who ever parks in the last two rows of that lot. And on top of that, I park my car every day in the same spot in the top right corner, the absolute last spot, which provides the farthest walk to my office from that parking lot. Zoe is always all by her lonesome, but she’s O.K. with that.

So what the hell was that coupe red car doing there? That’s MY spot!

Enraged, we pulled in to the spot directly to the left of this traitor, this outsider. Doesn’t its owner know this is Zoe’s home for nine hours every day?

I peered through the window of the car to find any trace of this mystery person’s identity. Nothing. A little emoji pillow sat on the dashboard of the vehicle. I didn’t trust its deceiving smile. I think it was reveling in my sudden misfortune.

I sadly departed from Zoe and made the self-imposed six-minute trek to the office.

When it was time to go home, the red car showed no intentions of leaving anytime soon.

The next day, we pulled in. The red car, probably unaware of the stress it was causing us, sat there again.

This happened every day for the next 10 days.

I’m not even sure if the red car and its owner knew they were engaged in a war, but we certainly did. And we were losing, badly.

Now let’s be real--it would be downright absurd if I were seriously troubled by this for more than two minutes. Zoe and I resigned to our fate and started laughing about it on the third day.. Refusing to believe another person in their right mind would park in isolation like I do every day, I concluded the owner had abandoned its car, at least temporarily. Maybe the person was out of town and wanted his/her car out in the boondocks so he/she could find it easily upon returning. There was nothing I could do about it.

Some things are just beyond your control, and you have to accept that. You’re going to come across hundreds of Red Cars in your life. People will always try to lure you down to the dumps with them--misery loves company, right? Your friend will get promoted over you. Someone will always have bigger muscles or longer eyelashes (that’s what women care about, right?). A world of people will earn more money than you. You just have to accept it and let it roll off your shoulder, put on a smile, and go kick the world’s ass.

Just don’t get locked into staring contests with an emoji pillow. Or refer to your car as a person.

People will think you’re crazy.

Two Roads

This quote hangs on the bulletin board on my room. It comes from my favorite sports radio personality, Colin Cowherd.

"There's only one way to be a model: have really hot parents. Other than that, there's no one route to anything."

I spent the first few months of my new, post-college life stressing out about the future. I'm only guaranteed 18 months at my new job, so I asked myself, "What's going to happen after that? Where will I go? Will I have enough money? What must I do to guarantee a rise up the sports media ladder, whether at ESPN or somewhere else?"

Like always, I knew that if I grinded my a** off, I'd soar above everyone else.

I'm one of the hardest workers you'll ever meet. If I get even the slightest sense that someone outworks me, I ramp it up that much more. I've always been that way. In my first few months at ESPN, my typical shift was 6:00 p.m.-3:00 a.m.. Sometimes I'd come in at 11 in the morning, stay a few hours, leave, take a nap, and come back. Or maybe I'd come in earlier. I set up a bunch of meetings with high-ranking executives, trying to take away any tidbits of knowledge I could that would give me an advantage. Some nights, I stayed well past 3 a.m. I remember a handful of days where I willingly stayed until 7 a.m., drawing weird looks from the morning crew, getting peppered with questions about what I was doing. I remember putting in several 18-hour days early on. I discovered the magical effects of caffeine, and it pushed me through my efforts to make an impression on everyone. No one could outdo me.

As you could expect, that lifestyle took a toll on me. Fast. I was so exhausted I couldn't think. I didn't treat people right. I stopped eating three meals a day and stopped lifting weights. I lost 20 pounds and all of my muscle mass in a very short amount of time, and I still haven't put that weight back on.

I told myself from the get-go I was on an all-out sprint. I moved to freakin' Connecticut for this, and I was going to continue on the fast track and surge past the competition, just like I always had. I always took advanced classes. I always played above my age group in basketball. I graduated college a year early and landed a really good job almost immediately after. Nothing would stop me from reaching my goal of becoming a sports media superstar one day. I didn't know how I'd get there or what exactly I wanted to become, but I knew I'd get there because quite frankly, I had never met a challenge I wasn't up for before.

Here I was, 21 years old, no college debt, making decent money at a dream job for so many people around the country. I remember it like it was yesterday (it was literally, like, seven months ago).

And I was miserable.

I had good days and bad days. I'm an optimist by nature, and I tried talking myself into positivity every day. It worked some days, but I could never sustain it.

But at one point about two months ago, I had a change of heart. All of my extra efforts landed me in some murky waters, which served as a wake-up call for me. I had to make a decision.

I decided to scale way back on my self-imposed w***load. I needed to focus on the things that really mattered.

To put it simply, now I'm putting in my normal 40-50 hours a week, only coming in before my shift starts when it's absolutely necessary. I've determined it's quality over quantity with relationships I'm building. I'm just focusing on my job that specific day, and nothing else. And don't take this the wrong way, I don't want to make it sound like I've stopped caring. No, I definitely care. I'm just dialing down the intensity, going from a sprint to a brisk jog.

When I'm not at the office, I'm filling my time with things I love doing. I like exploring towns and going to parks. I rarely go to the same restaurant twice because I love new experiences. I like talking to new people. I like reading and writing in my journal and this blog.

To all of my peers who have graduated from college within the past few years, my message is simple: You have two paths to go down. Actually, let's call them two roads, because my favorite CT craft beer is called Two Roads. In my 10 months of "adulting," I've already traveled down both, and I know which one I like more.

Road No. 1: You grind and grind and grind. You're determined to move up the corporate ladder as fast as possible. You want to make as much money as you can, because that's what you're supposed to do. That's the American Dream, isn't it? You're going to sacrifice a lot of your time for your job. You're going to forgo experiences and other cool things because "you're busy." You're going to go so hard that you'll drive yourself to misery, and miss out on forging a healthy lifestyle and great relationships. But it's all for the greater good, right? Because one day, it will all be worth it, right? You'll make a boatload of money so you can buy that big house with the granite counter tops you've always wanted. Because that's what you're supposed to want, right?

But, like many adults I've come to meet, you'll eventually dread your job and the life you've created for yourself. All of those material possessions won't fill the gaping voids of discontent in your life.

Let me now propose the less-traveled road.

Road No. 2: You've got a good job. It pays the bills and provides you with security. You like it enough that you look forward to doing it every day. You probably won't rake in as much money as you would if completely dedicated your life to it, but you'll learn to accept that and be O.K. with that. You put in your time and you shut down when you clock out. You stop looking at e-mail and all of the messages that Road No. 1 requires you to look at all the time. And when you're not at the office, you're focusing on the important things. Like, the things that really matter and make us who we are. That's your health, relationships, and personal growth. Your job takes up a big part of your time and it's important, but it doesn't define you.

Whatever it is that you aspire to do with your life, I'm telling you, you don't have to pursue Road No. 1. Like I said in the beginning, there literally is no one route to any job. No one path to success is linear. It's filled with ups and downs. You end up in places you never expect and come across all kinds of challenges and people that will change you forever.  Don't ever lock yourself into that tunnel vision mode like I did for the first few months of my adult life, because you'll miss so much around you.

And no, it doesn't make you lazy if you go down the second road. You go just as hard, but you're more focused. You actually become more productive as a result. You can take the first road and grind as hard as you want. Just know that, when you're 65 years old and sitting atop your boat load of cash, you'll likely look back with regret, wondering what could have been...

Road No. 2 seems like a winner in my eyes. Who's driving down it with me?

Troy Farkas is an aspiring blogger. Please feel free to leave comments below. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram: @TFark04.

Mindset

Today, I want you to remove a word from your vocabulary. Forever. Rip its page out of the dictionary, stomp on it, and then burn it in your fireplace.

It’s a word we all say multiple times every day. We say it so much we don’t even notice it. And the one thing I hadn’t considered until recently was this:

We never say the word with a smile. It’s typically followed by a groan. Or a yawn. Or that emoji with the rolled-over eyes, never an exclamation point.

But yet, we dedicate so much of our lives to that one word. And today, I want you to stop using it.

Say it with me. Because this is the last time I want to ever heard this word leave your lips.

Work.

OK.  Hear me out.

I came across a book recently (Everything That Remains) that suggested we stop saying this word, because it rarely connotes anything but negativity. Let’s be honest. If you’re a camp counselor, lifeguard, lawyer, accountant, or pizza delivery boy, you always roll your eyes when you say you’re going to w***.

If you’re a student, do you really enjoy doing your homew***? Doesn’t w***ing out at the gym seem more like a chore than a leisurely activity?

I eliminated this word from my vocabulary a few weeks ago, and I’ve noticed a profound change on the way I look at things.

For me, my mindset is everything. I’m constantly evaluating it and searching for inspiration so that I can become a bastion of positivity and use that to influence others and brighten up people’s days. When I used to say I was headed to w***, it just created a series of boring, mundane images in my head. And that made me boring.

I’m going to the office. I’m going to sit. I’m going to check e-mail. And then do it again 10 minutes later. I’m going to type. I’m going to consume, not create. And I’ll do this for 8-10 hours until I leave and get ready to do it again the next day. To me, that’s what the w-word represented.

But the game has changed now. Fortunately for me, I earn a paycheck from an amazing company that I’m proud to say I get to go to every day. I’m 22 years old, and my education and experience has landed me at ESPN for the time being. I know that sounds like bragging, but I don’t intend it to be. But how frickin’ cool is that?

“Troy, what are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing crazy.. I’ll go for a walk, probably listen to a podcast or read a book, check a few things for my job, exercise some more, make an awesome breakfast and dinner, and then I’ll head off to ESPN for the night.”

I answer with something like that now. And it’s made a world of difference in my happiness. Because it reaffirms to me every time how lucky I am to have this job. It doesn’t even feel real when I say it. As I said in my first post, ESPN was never a dream of mine, but I’m still stoked to be here. And I remind myself of it every day. What I do for a living isn’t my passion or my dream job, but it’s certainly fun and I enjoy it, which is probably the case for many of you. I promise, if you make this subtle--yet important--change to your vocabulary, you won’t find yourself stuck in that rut you often do.

I always believe in going the extra mile, so let’s not just stop at one word. Now, I want you to reconsider a phrase. A question, rather. You can still say it, but I want you to stop and really think about this question and what it means. I also came across this in that same book I referenced earlier.

Now, I want to conduct a thought experiment. Let’s go with a classic scenario.

You’re accompanying your partner to the office holiday party. You’re just there for support, and you don’t really know anyone.

Think of the first question someone asks you.

“Oh, hi (insert name). It’s nice to meet you. What do you do?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, I’ve heard a lot about you. Good things, of course. To answer your question, I’m an architect and I’ve designed a lot of buildings in the area.”

Stop. Think about this exchange before reading on.

You’ve just established yourself as an architect. And nothing else.

That’s it. Architecture literally defines you. You eat, sleep, and breathe designing buildings. You really don’t do anything else.

Unless you really do, then this answer is perfectly acceptable. But I’m going to imagine that for 98 percent of you, your job isn’t all you do. At least I hope it’s not.

Before I stopped to really consider this question, I would have answered with this:

“I’m a production assistant at ESPN Radio. I basically help out with all of our shows and make sure the show staffs have everything they need to make the shows as good as they possibly can be.” (Obviously it’s more complicated than this, but I have to simplify it to make it more digestible for my audience)

Now, if someone were to ask me this question, I’ll answer with something like this:

“I do a lot of things, really. I exercise a few days a week and always make sure I’m staying active. I like going grocery shopping and cooking and eating that food because I find the whole experience very satisfying. I go on adventures in nature all of the time. I often find cool cafes and taverns and order a beverage and then read, write, or people-watch. I spend a huge chunk of my week at ESPN helping produce some radio shows. I communicate with my friends and family and I watch a lot of sports.

For the first answer, unless you’re a sports radio junkie, you’re probably going to respond with a generic follow-up question. I’ll answer it, and you’ll forget what I said five minutes later. Then I’ll do the same for you. We have now exchanged the pleasantries society expects from us, and we’ll go have an eerily similar conversation with another person.

But for the second answer, do you see how far I buried the part about ESPN? It’s because my job isn’t the bane of my existence. It doesn’t define me. If I could get paid for those activities before it, I’d leave ESPN in a heartbeat.

I think there’s so many directions our conversation can now take us. And it can become such a more meaningful and deliberate conversation. Maybe you’ll suggest a craft beer for me to try, and then we go off on a tangent about different beers and we hit it off. You never know.

To get happier and to live a meaningful life, the change starts with you and your mindset. I’ve always believed that if you don’t like the way something is going, it is completely within your power to change it. You can change the way you look at things. You can change how you think about the words you’re saying, or supposed to say. Ask yourself more questions and begin to question the standards and what’s “normal.” Only then will you discover more about who you truly are.

Diplomacy

A huge thank you to everyone who shared my letter last week and/or responded with some kind words.  If it inspired just one person to write another letter to the state of New York, then I know I did my job. If you haven't read that letter, here's the link: 

https://troyfarkas.blogspot.com/2018/05/a-letter_31.html

If you would like to write a letter of your own explaining why you think the state should deny parole to Dennis Drue, please contact me and I will tell you how to do so.


I loved U.S. history so much after high school that I stuck with it and declared it my major in college. As much as I loved learning about famous names, dates, and governmental policies, all of my favorite sub-topics centered on foreign relations. I love studying every war we've ever participated in, except for that dumb War of 1812 and whatever that Texas Revolution thing was.

I spent years reading answers to these questions: How/why did we overthrow the British tyranny? What drove the North and South to hate each other so much that it led to the near destruction of our young republic? Why did the U.S. wait so damn long before entering World War II? Why involve ourselves in Vietnam at all?

I think my love for this traces back to my childhood. In the post-9/11 world, I remember constantly asking my mom whether other countries were our "friends" or not. I quickly learned we did not like that man with the funny name, what was it--Osama bin Aladdin? And what about that Saddam guy?Why did both of these bad guys with bushy beards want to hurt us?

But it wasn't all bad--we had plenty of friends. I found it comforting the country with the cool maple leaf on its flag liked us. After seeing The Sound of Music, I never imagined Germany would be our friends. But they were! Really good friends, actually. How nice.

Like most kids, I saw things in black and white.

Like most kids, I've matured and forgotten those habits, and now the lines are blurred.

I know a lot of people. I went to a massive high school of 3000 students in upstate N.Y. I've held several jobs and internships and I've studied abroad and spent summers of my life at basketball camps (by the way, shout out to my former teammate Kevin Huerter, soon to be a first round NBA draft pick!) I graduated from a decently-sized state school. Now, I spend 45+ hours a week earning paychecks from a mammoth corporation.

I've got hundreds of numbers in my phone's contacts. Then there's the hundreds of social media friendships scattered throughout my Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat channels.

All throughout my years in school, I thought my social circle defined me. The number of people, and the type of people, I surrounded myself with somehow implied definitive conclusions about who I was.

Today, at 22 years of age, I know I was wrong. Dead wrong.

Over the past year, I've made a commitment to cut down significantly on the number of people I allow into my life. I'm gutting my friends and followers by the hundreds on social media, forgoing the endorphin-raising arms race to see who can get the most likes on any given post. I've cut down my communications with many people I once found myself close to. Not because I dislike them or they did anything to wrong me, but rather because I just don't benefit from having that relationship anymore.

At this point, I want to focus on the friendships that are mutually beneficial. I want to give in every relationship, with the hope--although not the expectation--that I receive in return.

Kind of like how the U.S. agrees to defend Saudi Arabia from attack in a war-torn Middle East, so that we can have access to their petroleum-rich fields that will later fuel our cars and homes.

The bottom-line is this: Every relationship in your inner circle should serve a purpose. If it doesn't, it's another anchor in your life weighing you down, bringing forth undeserved stress you consciously aren't aware of. You certainly should hold on to those friendships out of your primary focus, whether it's the old college buddy or the person from the local gym that you hang out with from time to time. Those are necessary as well, because not every relationship requires a deeper connection. But for those closest to you, the ones you want to stick around for a long time, you need to make a decision on the future of those relationships.

I know I'm really not in a position to give advice to anyone. I'm just 22, and it scares me how little I know about what I don't know. But I've learned you don't need to hold on to relationships that just don't have any oomph to them anymore. People change, and people move on. That's OK, it's a fact of life. It doesn't make you a bad person or a bad friend if you choose to cut ties with someone. You're just looking out for yourself, and no one can fault you for that.

If you find yourself engaging in one-sided relationships, where you are giving more than you're getting, maybe it's time to sit down with that person and have a conversation with him/her and determine what your future relationship will look like. I currently find myself juggling a few relationships that I'm not sure if I should hold on to. Or maybe, I should just remember the good times, let go, and embrace better relationships. These are tough conversations to have with yourself and with other people, but they're incredibly necessary and important.

You deserve to surround yourself with individuals who will help you grow and develop into the person you strive to become. Maybe you and these friends do something together to get out of your comfort zones. Maybe you'll struggle through that hot yoga class you've always wanted to try. It will be one hour of sweat-induced hell, but you'll have fought through it together. Or you go to that Yelp-approved restaurant you've been dying to go to with someone, and that someone will sit there and savor every bite with you while enjoying a meaningful conversation (phones away, please).

You should learn from your friends, and they should learn from you. You should offer your love and support to them. Tell them you're proud of them. Tell them you appreciate their presence in your life. In your busy and chaotic life, make time for them. Show them they're a priority. Take them out for a cup of coffee or even better, a pint of Sam Adams. Spread the love to the people in your life who deserve it, and you'll get it right back. If you don't, then you need to reconsider that relationship and find the right people instead.

Now that I think about it, maybe our president should reconsider his upcoming meeting with a certain North Korean dictator...

A Letter

This is a letter I have written to the state of New York, and to one man in particular.

I’m going home next week. And maybe the week after that, too.

A few of my closest friends are at home, stuck in that post-college and pre-employment period I recall finding myself in a year ago. I’ll see some of the boys and we’ll watch the NBA Finals, exchanging stories and crude jokes, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll go fishing with my best friend, Ben, or beat him in tennis (again). Time is ticking, our lives’ journeys are taking us all over the map. In just a few weeks, one friend is moving to Washington, D.C., and another is bound for Hawaii. I want to maximize the most out of this precious time that I can with some of the people who have helped shape me today.

But there’s one person, one very special person, who I know will never leave our hometown. I know I can go see her at any moment, and she’ll be there. She’ll listen to me. She’ll support me. Just like she always has, just like she always will.

The only problem is, she can’t say anything back to me.

Like many of you reading this, I’ll never forget that night. The night that changed us all forever. It was a Saturday night, the first of December nearly six years ago.

Has it been that long?

I sat in the chair in front of my computer, likely doing my homework. I wasn’t in the best mood; my junior basketball season had tipped off the night before, and we lost a game we shouldn’t have lost.

Some time after 10:00 p.m., my parents called me downstairs. My mom had been on Twitter.

“There’s been an accident.”

We flipped on the TV. Breaking news, the screen read. The banners confirmed what Twitter had said--an accident had occurred on I-87, northbound, not very far from where I lived.

I could go on and on about the intimate details of that night. And every night for the next week. And the wakes. And the funerals. And the memorial basketball games. And the softball tournaments. And the chorus concert. And the foundation. And the scholarship. And the balloon releases. And becoming friends with her friends, some of the most inspiring and strongest people I know.

But you, Dennis Drue, don’t need to hear all that. Because no matter what I say, no matter what any of us say, you think it’s OK to walk free this December, six years after you ended the most special friendship I’ve ever had. Six years after you ended the strongest father-daughter bond I’ve ever seen. Six years after you took away the beautiful, loving girlfriend of a boy who needed someone like her in his life to keep him grounded and focused.

Six years, is that really all it’s been?

You were drunk that night. I don’t know how they let you leave the bar to get behind the wheel. Oh, and you were high. Oh, and you were texting someone (to get more drugs). And to top it all off, you were blazing past the 65-mph speed limit on the area’s most popular highway.

And then you changed lanes, failing to see the black SUV driven by Chris Stewart.

You crushed that car. You demolished that car. You pulverized the ribs, feet, arms, and neck of Matthew Hardy and Bailey Wind.

And you killed Chris Stewart on impact.

And you killed Deanna Rivers, reducing the best best friend I’ve ever had to nothing but a lifeless mixture of bones, bruises, and blood.

And for that, you don’t deserve to see the light of day.

I used to be able to call Deanna whenever I needed advice or a friend. My teammates always made fun of me. Sometimes it got to me, and I needed someone to pick me up. She always did. Every. Single. Time.

Now when I need that support, I have to drive to Mechanicville. I go through a gate, and then I navigate my little ‘02 Honda Civic through the thin roads of the cemetery, and snake my way up and down the roads and around trees until I arrive at her grave.

In the winter, I bring a foldable chair and sit down in front of her. I usually look at what new decorations have come since I’ve last been there. Birthday cards, Christmas cards, Happy New Year cards, and similar decorations always adorn the granite memorial to her life. In the summer, I just sit on the ground. And then we talk.

Well, I talk.

She listens. But I know she’s there. I know she would say something if she could.

I struggle with making friends. I’ll admit it. I hold people to really high standards. If you don’t align with my values (the same values Deanna once had) then I generally don’t waste my time pretending to like you.

Because of that, I didn’t have many friends at UAlbany. I really don’t have any lasting friends from my college years. That’s more a fault of my own than other people’s, so don’t feel sorry for me.

But I know I would have had one. And that would have been all I needed to get me through.

St. Rose, just minutes down the road from UAlbany, accepted Deanna a few weeks after you took her away from us. I always think about all the memories we would have made in college. The UAlbany basketball games. The trips to my favorite sub place, DiBella’s. The stupid drunken nights in a dorm room. Sitting and doing homework by the fountain. Deanna introducing me to another one of her best friends, Sizzy, and the three of us hanging out all the time.

But we never got to do that.

I did get to meet Siz. And OB. And all her crazy relatives. And I got to know GiGi better, and J-Dawg, and her mom and dad.

When I spend time with these people, it’s generally at Deanna’s house. Deanna and her family loved to watch Duke basketball games together. A Duke fan myself, I came over several times to come watch games with Deanna and her family.

And I still do.

Except, Deanna is now in a picture frame. Sitting on top of the mantle above the fireplace.

Because you took her away from us.

Matching sweatshirts generously given to us by the Rivers'.

When we all gather now, it’s not just to watch the Duke game. It’s to laugh. It’s to joke. It’s to listen to Daddy Rivs talk about all his new gadgets. It’s for Dylan to unleash the Rivers’ stupid dog on me (I’m afraid of big dogs).

And it’s to honor Deanna the best way we know how.

By loving everyone who deserves our love and attention.

“When you love with all your heart, life becomes one big smile.”

That’s what Deanna’s grave reads. It took time after we lost you, DeeDee, but I’m smiling. Because my heart is full of love. The love you inspired me to have.

But to you, Dennis Drue, I’m not convinced your heart is full of love. I’m not sure if it ever has been. You showed no remorse the day you were sentenced in court. I remember. I was there.

I certainly believe in second chances. I know people make mistakes. People can learn from them, and I’ll respect anyone who shows progress after they acknowledge a misstep and get better from it.

But you already had a second chance, and you blew it.

Prior to your murders of two of the finest young people in the world, you had an extensive record of serious traffic violations. Even with that checkered past, you did what you did on December 1, 2012.

How can we trust you? How can the parents of 18-year-old sons and daughters trust you?

I don’t believe you should spend your entire life behind bars, but just six years? Six years, seven years, eight years, nine years...no amount of time you serve will ever replace the amount of time we lost with Deanna. No amount of time you serve will ever compensate for the loss of a daughter, a girlfriend, a best friend, a teammate, and more.

And for that, I beg you, the state of New York, do not let Dennis Drue out. To have him out in six years would be a disgrace to the memories of Chris and Deanna. It would be a slap in the face to me, their families, and the entire Shen community that was affected by your unspeakable actions that fateful night.

Speaking of slap in the face, that’s something I’ve always wanted to do to you.

But, I’ll be the bigger man here. I won’t do it. Hopefully, the opportunity never presents itself. Because you better stay stuck behind those bars for as long as we possibly can keep you.

This is a letter I have written to the state of New York.

If you would like to write a letter of your own explaining why you think Dennis Drue shouldn't walk free, please contact me and I will tell you how to do so.

Just Say Hi

I love the outdoors. And it's really weird, because all throughout my childhood and teenage years, I never cared for it. I enjoyed the occasional trip to the beach, and that was about it. That changed around my 18th birthday, thanks to a girlfriend and some of my closest friends who shared their passions for the outdoors with me. Ever since then, I've fallen in love with the mountains, the trees, birds, lakes, and the grass. I try to spend as much time in nature as my day allows.

So yesterday, I took my bike along a segment of this 87-mile stretch in CT called the Farmington Canal Trail. It once served as CT's version of the Erie Canal, responsible for shipping goods to towns to increase trade and commerce. The railroad system surfaced a few decades later, and so tracks were laid over the canal as the new preferred method of shipping. After sitting idly for several decades in the later 1900s, the defunct tracks were paved over, encouraging walkers, bikers, skaters, and roller bladers an avenue to take in nature for everything it offers us.

I've found it's the interactions that make my time in the natural world so special. I can remember the first time I went hiking three summers ago. Every time Meaghan, Makala, Ben and I passed someone, we all exchanged greetings. We often stopped others for conversation, asking others how the view at the top was. Just chit-chat, but the kind of small talk I had never engaged in before. And I thought that was the coolest thing.

About a month ago, I went for a solo hike in Washington, CT. After reaching the peak, I sat on a boulder and took in the view. I then began to sing out loud. Not long after, a woman arrived at the top just as I was belting out the chorus of a Dave Matthews song. She went off to sit on another rock, probably wondering what the hell I was doing. But after some time, we exchanged greetings and struck up conversation. A 30-year-old writer, she found herself in a little crisis. She had nearly convinced herself it was time to leave her life in CT for one in North Carolina, where she would live in a small house in an isolated area so she could focus on building a fledgling writing career. She came to the mountain that day to try and talk herself out of moving, because she knew it would be so difficult to leave behind the mountains, and the trees, and the peace. The thought of leaving this terrified her.

As total strangers, we talked for a half-an-hour. I recall hearing a stat that somewhere between 60 and 70 percent of people never stray more than 20 minutes away from where they grew up. I told her that, and that she shouldn't become a number. So do it. If you fail, you fail. But you don't want to kick yourself years down the road for never taking that chance. After our conversation, we parted ways and I headed back down the mountain.

I hope she moved. If she did, I can't wait to buy her first book.

The Aesop's Fable moral of these stories about my experiences in nature is this, just say hi. You never know where it could lead you.

How many times do you walk down a hallway at school, at work, in the mall, and pass by someone and act like he/she doesn't exist? You stare straight ahead, locked in your own world, and completely ignore the existence of another human being. Think about that.

I want you to stop doing that, for a plethora of reasons. Number one, you could deprive yourself of a conversation like I had with the woman on the mountain. The second and more important reason, you never know what someone is going through.

Let me repeat, you never know what someone is going through.

I've made it a priority over the last few years to greet people, even if they're total strangers (as long as you think this person isn't a threat). Say hi and smile, ask someone how he/she is doing, make a small comment about how you like their shoes. That person could find himself/herself in the midst of a terrible day. I know this, I've been there. I've been down in the dumps before, and some random person has greeted me and actually lifted my spirits and restored my faith in humanity. I'm not exaggerating. You would be surprised the impact that a greeting or some other random act of kindness could have on someone's life.

I believe all lessons in life can find roots in Friends or Seinfeld. Let's look at an episode of the former. A supply manager named Earl, ironically portrayed by Jason Alexander (George in Seinfeld), claims he wants to kill himself. Phoebe calls him to see if he wants to buy any toner for his office. He replies, saying he doesn't need any toner, because he plans on committing suicide. With Phoebe on the phone, he announces to the office that he plans on killing himself, and not one person reacts to it. But Phoebe, always the optimist, tells him why suicide is not the answer, and he decides not to.

I'll be honest, I wanted this blog post to start off with a rant about the Santa Fe shootings and then tie it in to the moral of my hiking and Friends stories. These mass shootings rile me up every time, and the lack of action and accountability on the parts of our "leaders" upsets me.

And I can't help but think that if the Santa Fe, Virginia Tech, Columbine, Newtown, Aurora, Charleston, Las Vegas, Orlando, or Parkland shooters had just had some more love in their lives, perhaps these tragedies wouldn't have happened. Call me naive like everyone else does, but I stand by it.

The common trend among all these shooters is this desire to take their frustrations out on other people. Often a spouse, friend, or classmate has wronged the shooter. Or people make fun of them. Or never acknowledge that person's existence.

Which is something you might do every day.

Had others not made these individuals feel like outcasts, like they aren't loved or appreciated or welcomed, it's possible they never would have felt compelled to carry out these abhorred acts.

And let me be clear, in NO WAY am I defending them. Every single one of them deserves a lifetime in a cell with no sunlight for all of the irreparable damage they've caused. But don't you think, that maybe, just maybe, had one person, or maybe even two, said hi to Dimitrios Pagourtzis, or performed some random act of kindness for him the day before, that he may have snapped out of it? That he wouldn't want to walk in to an art class and shoot every which way?

To quote one of my biggest inspirations, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."--Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

I get everyone's frustrations. Trust me, I'm frustrated too. But just airing grievances at the government and the NRA and the Constitution isn't making this problem go away. Listen, I respect those Parkland students fighting for gun control, but let's be honest. The legislative process takes so long and so many people have to sign off. Politics will not stop these school shootings from happening. Limiting the number of entrances will not stop them. Arming teachers will not stop them. But we can stop them. With our words. With our actions. With love.

Think back to the Friends analogy. Earl announced his intent to commit suicide, and no one responded. You can think of those people as the majority of the public, the portion that is so locked in to their own worlds and acts like you don't exist when they walk by you. But then there's Phoebe, the person who makes a simple gesture by showing some compassion for a fellow human being and making him feel like he's worth something. That the world is a better place with him in it.

I challenge you all to find your inner Phoebe.

And do me a favor, say hi along the way.

Congrats...Now Buckle Up

To the Class of 2018, congratulations. After four years, you've graduated from college and now you're "ready" to take on the so-called real world.

I thought I was ready. And I'm sure if you rewind to this time last year, friends and family of mine would have told you that even just after my three years of college, that I was more prepared for the real world than anybody. And I believed them.

How sadly I was mistaken.

Now I know what you're thinking. If you're at all close with me, you know that for the last nine months I've been working at ESPN, the biggest sports media company in the world. For some of you, SportsCenter's music was a part of your childhood soundtrack, and you may have thought how cool it would be to work at ESPN. I was one of those young boys, and although ESPN was never my goal, I've found myself here and there are few places I'd rather start off my professional career. And I'll be honest, it's an amazing place to be and I'm truly grateful to the people here that took a chance on a young kid straight out of college.

However...

That's just what I am. A young kid out of college. I graduated college a year early, and I'm significantly younger than most everyone I work with. I work in a male-dominated field in a town crawling with high school girls, not young professional women. It certainly doesn't help that the next two nights I'm working from 9:30pm-6:00am, which throws off my body's homeostasis like never before. I'm at the bottom of the totem pole, so no one really cares much about what I'm like as a person, just as an employee. No one cares about who I am or what I like to do or what I stand for. And that's not a stab at ESPN--it's a great place to work. I'm sure that's typical of many other places too.

Listen, I'm not complaining. At whatever bizarre time I wake up at every day and every time I walk onto that campus, I tell myself how lucky I am to have not only gotten a job right out of college, but to have gotten a really good one. I relocated to Bristol, CT and I live in a decent apartment and the paychecks are good enough to cover my rent and my need to overspend on fresh fruits and vegetables and fancy healthy peanut butters (again, if you know me, you know I'm a Nazi about what I put into my body). Because of this, I know I'm lucky and that many people would kill to be in my position, so I make a point not to complain. But, just because I'm in a good situation, it doesn't mean I've found that elusive elixir to life we're all seeking:

Happiness.

Let me be blunt here. This is not easy. All of those "friends" you had in college? You'll see how quickly they forget about you. You'll see how they get so wrapped up in their own lives that they forget you exist. Think about it--all those "meaningful" relationships you had with the girls in your sorority or the guys on your club basketball team. How often did you hang out with them when alcohol wasn't in the picture? Because for many of you, alcohol was a coping mechanism you used so you could tolerate other people.

In this post-college world, many of you will be truly on your own now. Gone are the hungover Sunday brunches with your "friends." Gone are the $2 Bud Light's for Trivia Night at the local pub. You're going to spend a lot of time alone. And you're going to have to decide what it is you stand for, what your values are, and how you want to spend your time. Before you can bring a significant other into your life, you need to first figure out how to love yourself. You need to figure out where you want to go and who you want to be. Many of you will avoid those questions by watching Netflix and scrolling through Instagram. What for? Where will that get you? In reality, it will mask the truth: You're alone, and you don't know what to do.

The good thing for you is, I'm alone too. But that's OK. I accept it, and I'm learning how to deal with it. It's a marathon and not a sprint. I'm still figuring out what my values are, how I want to fill my days, how to balance work and life, how to bring in new people into my new life and cut people out of my old one. I'm doing this in search of that magical word that so many of us never truly find, despite searching our entire lives for it (see above). And I don't just mean waking up with a smile on a random Wednesday. I mean I want to find happiness. Not the "happiness" that the fashion magazines and Hollywood tells us we should all want. That's fake happiness. Society tells you you're supposed to want money, cars and clothes. It's nice to have money for the security it provides, but it doesn't provide anything more than that. Why do you think so many of the world's richest and most famous overdose on drugs? Because they live lives of material wealth, not spiritual wealth--the wealth we all should strive to find.

I want contentment. I want to become a living embodiment of The Golden Rule. I want to fill my days with meaningful work, meaningful relationships, and meaningful experiences. I want a zest for life and to spread that passion to others who don't realize what it truly means to live a life of deliberate meaning. That's what my values are.

As a result, I'm going to post a different blog every week detailing everything I'm learning about being a real adult. I don't have all the answers, but I'm searching for them and I think I'm on the right track. But many of you who are graduating this month, and even those who aren't but are still struggling navigating this same journey that I am, I want you to know you can rely on me.

So I hope you keep coming back, because when that moment hits you, the one where you realize the college days are over, I want you to know you can find me. If we've spoken 1000 times or one time, I don't care. You can reach out to me on Facebook or comment on this blog or find me some other way. Or you can just keep reading along, and perhaps you have some of the same thoughts I do. Like I said, I don't have all the answers. Feel free to enlighten me and educate me. But I think I've got a head start on a lot of people, because I'm slowly finding out the essential ingredients to leading a happy lifestyle, but I know I'm not there yet, and I know you aren't either. And I want to help.

--Troy