1,000 Reasons I'm Going To Hell is a blog series that explores my life as a non-believer in a believer's world. I'll share stories of everyday interactions with eternal consequences. Whether it's making my mom cry, shocking an unsuspecting nun or staring down a power-hungry pastor, I'll share all my flawed moments for your judgment. You can laugh with me, set me straight or put me on your prayer list. Just, please, don't tell God where to find me.
Reason #99 I Am An Egotist
Starting out, I never thought of myself as having an ego. To be honest, I always had kind of the opposite problem. I cared so much about what everyone else thought, I generally let myself get run over.
That is, until I sat behind a microphone for the first time.
It was in college. I was studying broadcasting. Specifically, radio. An excellent choice with a bright and unending future.
Something about the microphone brought out a power in me. Some might say beast. (No one would say artist.)
I didn't really notice it at first. But, it was there. A confidence. And, it quickly grew.
The beast really came out in my first radio job. I was hired and handed a hosting job. Start time: 5 minutes after the job interview. Ironically, I was to be the evening sports talk show host (and, later, morning DJ) for a small-town Christian radio station. (Ironic, because I was no more a Christian then than I am now. But, I would bring sunshine to 10s of people every morning for the better part of a year, before moving to bigger small things.)
As host of said talk show, I had free reign. And, apparently, I wanted to scorch some earth. I wouldn't go so far to say I was a shock jock. That could never be me. But, compared to the version of myself up to that point in life, I was at least a bad case of static electricity. I had --- ego.
I sounded confident. I felt confident. I was like a driver on the freeway, flush with a certain anonymity, daring people to cut me off, simply for the chance to throw a bird.
(Again, not that I'd every throw a bird. Not me. But, for someone who still struggles to make a restaurant choice in a party bigger than one, I was amazingly selfish.)
I had opinions. I would challenge any takers. I would scoff at people's ignorance.
Of course, when I turned off the mic... I was a walking apology. Was I too strong? Did I upset my cohost? Basically, I was back to me.
Still, I had discovered a different side of myself. Just a tad bit of a dark side.
I eventually quit that job -- a story for another day that involves me being accused of stealing my own golf clubs (spoiler alert: I didn't.)
I moved on to other radio jobs. Some required more ego than others, but the mic always provided the strength.
To this day I try to tap into a bit of that ego. It's probably not a good idea. I'm probably a better person without it. But, I like the strength. I like knowing, and being able to say: I want Arby's. (Just kidding, nobody says they want Arby's.)
I like my ego, though I know I shouldn't. Sometimes, I wish it were bigger.
And, yes. I'll have to answer for that.
So, if, someday, we're both "down south," and you see me chomping on a roast beef sandwich in the only restaurant available in hell, just nod. Please, don't hand me a microphone. It will only make things worse.
Reason #99 I Am An Egotist
Starting out, I never thought of myself as having an ego. To be honest, I always had kind of the opposite problem. I cared so much about what everyone else thought, I generally let myself get run over.
That is, until I sat behind a microphone for the first time.
It was in college. I was studying broadcasting. Specifically, radio. An excellent choice with a bright and unending future.
Something about the microphone brought out a power in me. Some might say beast. (No one would say artist.)
I didn't really notice it at first. But, it was there. A confidence. And, it quickly grew.
The beast really came out in my first radio job. I was hired and handed a hosting job. Start time: 5 minutes after the job interview. Ironically, I was to be the evening sports talk show host (and, later, morning DJ) for a small-town Christian radio station. (Ironic, because I was no more a Christian then than I am now. But, I would bring sunshine to 10s of people every morning for the better part of a year, before moving to bigger small things.)
As host of said talk show, I had free reign. And, apparently, I wanted to scorch some earth. I wouldn't go so far to say I was a shock jock. That could never be me. But, compared to the version of myself up to that point in life, I was at least a bad case of static electricity. I had --- ego.
I sounded confident. I felt confident. I was like a driver on the freeway, flush with a certain anonymity, daring people to cut me off, simply for the chance to throw a bird.
(Again, not that I'd every throw a bird. Not me. But, for someone who still struggles to make a restaurant choice in a party bigger than one, I was amazingly selfish.)
I had opinions. I would challenge any takers. I would scoff at people's ignorance.
Of course, when I turned off the mic... I was a walking apology. Was I too strong? Did I upset my cohost? Basically, I was back to me.
Still, I had discovered a different side of myself. Just a tad bit of a dark side.
I eventually quit that job -- a story for another day that involves me being accused of stealing my own golf clubs (spoiler alert: I didn't.)
I moved on to other radio jobs. Some required more ego than others, but the mic always provided the strength.
To this day I try to tap into a bit of that ego. It's probably not a good idea. I'm probably a better person without it. But, I like the strength. I like knowing, and being able to say: I want Arby's. (Just kidding, nobody says they want Arby's.)
I like my ego, though I know I shouldn't. Sometimes, I wish it were bigger.
And, yes. I'll have to answer for that.
So, if, someday, we're both "down south," and you see me chomping on a roast beef sandwich in the only restaurant available in hell, just nod. Please, don't hand me a microphone. It will only make things worse.
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