Put your nose to the grindstone

My Dad used to tell me that. Well, I finally did it. I'll be out of the hospital in about a week, looking like Kenny Rogers.

Working hard at something, is all I've ever known. In high school, I didn't care about my grades. I cared about being the best actor and funniest guy around.

I caught the drama director cheating on the awards distribution. I won the best actor award my first year, as voted by my peers. He gave it to a senior. When confronted, he said he did it because the guy was a senior, and it was his last shot. That was enough for me. I couldn't trust him.

I then moved on to radio, my passion. I knew there was a radio station at our rival high school, and we had Regional Occupation Programs (ROP) in place, to give us the chance to get work experience prior to graduation.

I went to the principal, a great man named Mr. Colivas, and hit him up with the idea of sending students from other schools there to get broadcast experience. He thought it was a good idea, but he thought it best that I talk with the teacher at the other school first.

When I approached the teacher with my idea, he became angry, and said - excuse me - yelled, no. He said it took him years to get approval from the school district to fund the endeavor.

I reported back to Mr. Colivas that the teacher loved the idea. Mr. Colivas took the idea to the school board and they also loved it. A new program was born and since I initiated it, I was the first selected from my school. There were others, as well. Denny Francis and Dan Smith. Great guys. There were also students selected from the other school in our town, too.

As you might imagine, the funny looking little teacher, who sounded just like Richard Dreyfus, hated me. Never the less, I set my sites on being tho first of our group to get a show. I was.

Through the class, I heard that a station in town was looking for a copy writer. I didn't even know what a copy writer was. The next day, after school, I walked into the station and announced that I was the copy writer they sought. After I figured out what a copy writer was, I wrote a couple of commercials for Dick Bailey, and walked out with the job.

My point is, I had to be the best. Failure was never an option. I carried that philosophy with me my entire life, and now I'm paying for it. It's one of the reasons why I am sick. There are more factors, of course, but complete burn out is one of them.

The moral of the story is that it wasn't worth it. I've done more than most, but didn't really enjoy it, because of the drive within. It was never enough.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must check my blog stats and see if I am climbing the popularity ladder.

See you tomorrow.