Embrace whatever life throws at you. Be curious. It really is ok to be curious. Nothing happens by accident. There is no such thing as coincidence. Let’s call it an opportunity.
This is your dream! Does it get any better?
That, my friend, is entirely up to you.
This is your dream life.
I’m happy to play this small part.
You, however, are in the driver’s seat. Somehow, we’re crossing paths, right now, and it’s about time we have this conversation. Yes, click that. That’s why you’re here.
I’ve seen 11:11 on a regular basis for many years. At first, it only appeared on digital clocks, but today it’s extended to the strangest things. Today, it continues and more frequently than ever.
Constant Reminder
11:11 is a constant reminder of something I struggle to explain and don’t fully understand. It doesn’t surprise me anymore. In fact, I expect it. I’d be surprised if I didn’t frequently see 11:11.
It’s like an ongoing game of peek-a-boo and 11:11 is my babysitter.
I Began to Notice
I can’t remember the first time I saw 11:11, but it became impossible to ignore. It’s a number you don’t forget.
Something naturally compelled me to check the time during this magic minute as if I was loaded with an app called Biological Clock.
About two years ago I began to notice 11:11 when it had nothing to do with time.
Is it just me?
No, it’s more common than I thought, but I didn’t give it much credence until I received one particularly fucked up email I never should have received; an email I still can’t explain.
I haven’t written about it before because I figured my 11:11 experience was nothing more than countless recurring coincidences.
That is, until last summer.
The One I Can’t Explain
On July 15, 2016, I received an email from the Devilish Smirksite notifying me of a new blog post. That’s standard whenever I publish a new post.
If content is added, a one-time email is sent to all subscribers that day.
There was a problem with this one. Nothing new was posted on July 15. Even more, the last time I published anything was in May.
There was no reason for me to receive an email, but there it was.
Funny thing – I never noticed that I published this 11 days after his surgery on November 11, 2015.
Apparently, 11:11:11 can be right in front of your face and completely overlooked. I’m actually shocked I didn’t notice this before, but it wouldn’t matter if I did. This 11:11:11 bent the rules to get in my face.
We’re talking about a system generated, duplicate, erroneous email sent over eight months after it was originally posted.
It makes no sense.
Could it have been a message from Marco? Yeah, I’ve turned into that guy.
The July 15, 2016 email caught my attention like 11-11″ dicks.
I began looking into the date 11/11 instead of the time.
I’m a recovering history bonehead. Nothing bored me more in high school than history. Today, however, it’s one of my favorite things to research, analyze, and discuss.
Armistice Day Marked the End of World War I
November 11 is known as Armistice Day which is the day the armistice was signed between the Allies of WWI and Germany, in France, marking the end of WWI.
WWI officially ended on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918. (11:11:11)
In the United States, we call it Veteran’s Day
When I discovered the July 15, 2016 email included 11:11:11 and Armistice Day included 11:11:11, my inner geek grew three sizes.
Had it not been for the July 15, 2016 email, I would’ve probably never made the connection between 1918 and 2015.
The thing about 11:11 is you cannot search for it; 11:11 finds you. That’s how I interpret the July 15 email.
This November will be the 99th anniversary of the end of WWI.
Now for some Notable Standouts of My 11:11 Experience
Voicemail from my mom
Just as before, I didn’t notice this one the first time around. I caught it earlier this year while clearing voicemails I never listened to. More often than not, I return calls without listening to messages. Moral of the story? Listen to voicemail from mom. This 11:11 arrived five months late, but it was just in time.
Searching Devilish Smirk in Facebook App
The search results listed three recent blog posts. The results made me look twice. The post titled What are the real issues in America? was posted on March 11 and had 11 shares. Oddly, when I searched on my laptop, it didn’t say March 11, it said about 2 months ago.
My First Negative 11:11
I check various stock performance just to see what the good old industry is doing. I’m draining my 401(k) these days and not contributing, so I’m not exactly in a position to purchase stocks. Both of these 11’s are red and negative. That can’t be a good sign, but what do I know? To be fair, the ticker has done well the past year.
Way to keep an eye on things Mr. McDermott! Also, congratulations on your fat salary and good luck on Wednesday’s call.
11:11 Jumps the Shark
Really? Last Thursday, I met with a realtor to get an idea of the current value of my house in today’s market. This is a comp of another home in my neighborhood – the only house for sale. It’s overpriced and doesn’t have a pool. If you live in Scottsdale, you need a pool. Trust me. She told me she would price mine $30,000 less than this hot box. I don’t know what she was smoking.
What’s your 11:11 story?
I’d love to hear your 11:11 stories! Or any other number sequence stories!
How do you feel connected to the world around you?
Either tell your story in the comments or email me directly at travis@devilishsmirk.com.
My brother and his wife are expecting their first child in less than a month. It’s finally hit me – I’m going to be an uncle!
I realize I’m a little old for my first time, but I’m thrilled this is finally a thing. I’m just happy it’s uncle and not grandpa.
We’re pregnant
Last year, my brother called me with the news. It was great to hear, but I was more curious about his mother’s reaction. She’s going to be a first time grandma. I was more excited for her than anything.
Lord knows, she wasn’t getting one from me. When I came out, all the pressure I never felt to produce a grandchild landed squarely on his shoulders.
Finally, a Garrod boy is keeping the name alive! Everyone wins!
The best part of being a gay uncle
Nobody questions a gay man’s ability to be an uncle. In fact, some of the best uncles I know are gay. People just don’t want them to be parents. It’s a ridiculous mindset.
If I tell someone, “Hey, I’m gay and I’m going to be an uncle!” More than likely, they’ll say, “Congratulations!”
If I said, “Hey, I’m gay and I want to be a father!” There are people, even in my family, who would say gays shouldn’t be parents.
Parenting has nothingto do with sexuality and everythingto do with ability.
I’m not saying I want to be a father and I’m not I suggesting being an uncle is even comparable to being a father. What I’m saying is this – you know that ‘feeling’ people get when being a parent is finally real? Yeah, gays get that too.
I’m not going to explain the various scenarios where I end up with child. Ultimately, if circumstances were such that I had a kid, I’d be a great father.
Just ask Bellz
What do you mean, Bellz? You get too much attention!
Bellz, you are so damn needy. This is how you end up in your crate! Ok, ok, ok, fine. Maybe I’m not ready to be a father.
Screw it! I’m going to be an uncle!
Since I’m going to be an uncle, I have to develop a few habits that haven’t otherwise stuck. For instance, I’ve dabbled in remembering birthdays, but I haven’t become addicted to sending cards. Even when Facebook reminds me of someone’s birthday, I rarely take action.
If I’m going to do this right, I better get used to buying stamps! I can’t even tell you the last time I bought Christmas cards. This year is going to be different. I’m going to let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Everything in moderation, right?
Note to self: Send newborn card and gift in April. Buy Christmas cards in November. Collect addresses sometime this year. Get your shit together. Baby steps.
It’s a start
Before baby Garrod has taken his/her first breath, he/she inspired a ripple effect a lot of people have already felt. It’s a beautiful thing.
Baby Garrod is the reason I dove into coloring. I was working on a set of nursery pictures as a gift for the family. Turns out, this cracked the beaver dam I mentioned in Seize all your days.
It’s a really cool feeling when an idea takes roots of its own and cultivates other ideas that eventually come full circle. Everyone can do it; the operative words being “do it”.
Speaking of “do it”, I suppose I should finish up the nursery gift. Baby Garrod will be here before I know it!
Nobody knows whether or not baby Garrod is a boy or a girl. I have this strong feeling a boy is on the way. We will know in less than a month! Regardless, I’m excited and I’m going to take my responsibility as an uncle seriously.
Uncle Travis’ oath
I promise I’ll come visit at the earliest, most appropriate time after you enter this world.
I promise to check in to see how you’re doing although you’ll have no conscious memory of these moments.
I promise you will know me even though we may never live in the same state.
I promise to nag your parents to take you on vacation to visit me at every appropriate opportunity, especially when you’re old enough to remember.
I promise to be there for you and your family during any time of need.
My brain is messy spaghetti. It’s as dense as a beaver dam with a slow trickle. Coloring loosens my noodles.
As of late, I’ve spent significant time coloring to find inspiration. The book I’m using in this category contains inspirational statements.
Now, anyone can blow a bunch of positive reinforcement in your face. That’s not my intent. I take my responsibility to write something worth reading very serious. Sometimes it’s meaningful.
Something seized
This August will mark my third year in Arizona. My ex-partner, Brad, and I co-founded a company in 1999. In 2014, we were acquired by, and relocated for, a Scottsdale-based something.
The transaction can be summed up with one word: Fraud. Stay tuned, more on that later.
Within a year, I was laid off. The CEO required Brad to escort over 30 employees, one-by-one, to their termination meeting and out the door – myself included. All the while, the HR director and CEO hid in their offices.
I began writing immediately after the layoff. I built a timeline of events since the beginning of 2014.
Then, the snowflake became a snowball.
Months of ongoing harassment continued to escalate against Brad after the layoff. He was effectively terminated the following week.
One day at a time
Since then, we’ve swirled in a pool of juxtaposed emotions trying to make sense of how this became our reality. Confusing facts, from the past, began making sense, while ongoing developments rolled out.
As time passed, we began to see this was far more complex than a bad business deal. There was a plan in motion way before we sold.
That plan got fucked the fuck up.
It’s amazing what you can learn with a lot of patience, commitment, time, and a loyal friend.
Looking back, I have strength that I never had to find before because I was going to hit new lows. I’m still struggling. I’ve also become more enlightened, and that’s a great feeling.
Psychotic: Facebook Page
I’m not quite sure how Brad feels. I’m kidding. What I meant was, I’m only speaking for myself.
I’m ready to write the story. It’s time.
That’s me, seizing my day and I will seize more
The above wasn’t what I intended to cover when I chose Seize the Day. That was a different day.
I’m going to switch gears here because that’s what I do.
Carpe Diem was the motto on my 11th grade yearbook
I knew my yearbooks were in my home office, somewhere in a messy pile of boxes. The pile of boxes, I haven’t unpacked, that my dog raids when I’m not looking.
That’s how she seizes her days.
Seize the Day was a natural choice because, well, Carpe Diem. I’ve lived in the moment a million different ways. I was looking forward to reflecting on my younger years. Back when I believed I was going to make a difference besides working at Blockbuster.
Wow! What a Difference!
And then, I saw a sobering message on Facebook
Early February, a friend of mine unexpectedly passed. He lived in Milwaukee and his name was Jeff. For years, Jeff and I went to the same gym and we’d often run into each other socially. I lived in Milwaukee for 22 years during a very social time of my life. He was someone I will never forget.
I was introduced to Jeff by a friend who also worked with me at the company, but long before we sold. I reached out to her once I heard the news. He had a heart attack on his bike while trail riding. He was my age.
In her final response to me she said, “Carpe diem, my friend. Hope you are well. xo.”
A week later, and even closer to home
I miss many things about my old company, but the office staff takes the cake. I worked with some of the most dedicated and happy employees.
We changed peoples’ lives. We gave opportunities to people in circumstances that a lot of companies won’t accommodate.
I didn’t realize how different and special our group was until I moved to Scottsdale.
Forest died less than a month ago. He was 49. He was found in a Milwaukee hotel room after not returning home the night before. He had three little boys who would come to the office occasionally.
He was the best inside sales rep a company could ask for. He was polite, humble, kind, and a very special man who had demons.
I wish we never had to let him go.
When I heard of his passing, I couldn’t stop thinking about how things could be so different if the situation up top never happened.
It never should have happened.
We were a close knit group. If someone needed support, we provided support. That’s what families are supposed to do.
How hard is it to support someone? Not hard. It’s not hard at all. You know who it’s hard for? Sanctimonious people and that Scottsdale-based something.
This will all come full circle, I promise.
About that yearbook
Do you believe, in heaven above?
The minute I dusted off my high school yearbook from 1991, a thought hit me upside the head. I felt this overwhelming sense that caused goosebumps all over my upper back, down my arms, and down my legs.
Seeing that green cover and those purple words triggered a memory I’m ashamed hadn’t occurred to me until that moment.
I don’t remember exactly when she was diagnosed with leukemia, but my friend Jodi Hill was a fighter. I met her in Junior High. She was best friends with my close friend, Christy. Wherever you saw one, the other wasn’t far away.
I sat down with the yearbook, thinking about Jodi. I opened it to find her picture, and something fell out and onto the floor.
Touched by an angel
Wow! What a Difference!
Jodi and I became a lot closer our Junior year. That’s the year my social life was boosted by the fact I turned 16. That means one thing: Driver’s license. The next week, I bought a car to match, which I paid for by working at Blockbuster.
Toward the end of our Junior year, Jodi and I were talking about how great it would be if she could get a summer job at Blockbuster. By then, I was in good with the manager. It took about two seconds to convince her to hire Jodi.
We’d work shifts together and lament about how great it was going to be seniors – finally! She wasn’t sick anymore. Or at least, if she was, I didn’t know.
I left for a week to participate in a volleyball tournament in Florida. Upon my return, I showed up for work, and was told that Jodi was in the hospital.
Things weren’t so great after all.
Jodi died that summer. She was 17.
My first funeral
A friend’s mom called to ask me to be a pall bearer at Jodi’s funeral. I didn’t know what that meant. She explained what it was and made some suggestions on what I should wear.
I hung up and started crying because I didn’t have anything she suggested. My next call was to either my step-mom, or a friend’s mom. I can’t remember, but I was still crying about being asked to be part of Jodi’s funeral and not having appropriate attire.
I was shutting down. I didn’t know how to cope with Jodi’s death. My first instinct was to not go to her funeral at all, because of a stupid suit. No 16-year-old should have funeral attire.
This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written. This is how the past couple years have been, in some strange, connected way.
I’ve either been tuned in to coincidence like never before, or I’ve been touched by an angel. Touching that that yearbook, coupled with Jodi’s obituary falling out, it sure sent a solid message through my body. Whatever you call it, the feeling was as real as the emotions running through me right now.
I guess if there’a a point to all this, my younger self would remind my older self of a very simple thing.
When considering if even a fraction of what I see or read anymore is an accuratereflection of America’s mindset, my heart sinks. Fake or not, the stories are ugly and the comments are uglier.
If you’re online, you’re in a vivarium. This is a test. If you cannot see the answer by now, try opening your eyes, ears, heart, and mind a tinybit.
Life gets infinitely better if you don’t make people miserable. I promise!
If you want to be on the right side of history, you better side with humanity
Bullying – kids and adults – is very real in America. It’s kind of amazing we don’t bomb our own country. Or have we?
I don’t know what happens to people that makes them terrible adults. We all have our shit to deal with. All I ask is that you not be part of anyone’s pile.
We, as humans, should embrace and encourage a free and fair world as if it’s our collective purpose. Well, guess what? That is our collective purpose!
Empathy enables us to unite in powerful ways
Painful truths about pain are: nobody’s immune to it, and it has a purpose. You can’t walk a mile in someone’s shoes until you walk a marathon in your own.
Painful events that remind us life isn’t fair can be our most valuable life lessons. Those events help us prioritize what’s important to us, and can often bring clarity.
Can you relate?
Communication is the heart of humanity. Bring that to every table. It’s how we learn about, understand, and relate to each other.
We all have a lot more in common than we think. It just takes a little effort and a few questions. It pains me when people summarily ignore entire groups – be it age, scene, politics, race, religion, whatever – all because they’re uncomfortable. Poor things.
Learn to cope with being uncomfortable
It shouldn’t be that hard. We were all twelve at some point. Americans could stand to be a little more selfless. There are – believe it or not – actual, real problems in the world. Surprise!
A global logic problem
I grew up in Alaska during the culmination of the Cold War. I was born a month after President Nixon resigned. By the time I graduated high school, the Berlin Wall was mostly dismantled, and the Soviet Union had collapsed.
Later that year, I began my college experience. Bright-eyed and full of hope, my generation was ready to change the world.
Optimism sure is cute until years become decades
Good morning, America! In today’s news, distraction is the main attraction. Now, for our top story, “Politics prove the human capacity for hypocrisy.”
Fasten your seat belt, I just did a couple shots.
Bush, Clinton, Bush, Obama, Trump. War. Terror. Money. Shovel ready. Oops, just kidding. Fraud. Secret Access Program. I’m with her. Pocahontas. Pussy. Nothing holds a country together like a small handful of pussy.
America is finally united!
Welcome to the United State of Disbelief!
The American Dream halted construction and the crews were sent home. News, news, words, news, fake news, satire, words, words, Twitter.
Where did the internet come from, anyway? Facebook sure came out of nowhere. How about The Google? What does SAP even do?
But we don’t care about government and business in the U.S. We like to tear each other down and make everyone miserable – for no reason whatsoever!
Why are you so intolerant of my free speech?
People can develop their most hateful opinions about issues that don’t affect them.
Oops, another shot.
If you don’t like the blue giraffe, simply leave him alone. He’s not from this country, but that doesn’t mean he can’t live here.
Wait, what? Oh, shit. I’m sorry. She? I thought she looked like a dyke. I just saw her in the mens’ room! I hate blue trans giraffes. Rape! If I had a daughter that would have been gross. Only men should be in there.
Giraffes belong in a zoo – along with all the other faggot species! I could have killed it if this liberal fuck town allowed open carry and I owned a gun. Guns!
By the way, there’s an awesome glory hole in the stall with the broken door. You’ll see these shoes I’m wearing tapping the floor! See you soon, buddy.
I almost changed my mind about abortion. Then I forgot that I want to watch the little monster grow up and have no parents! Well?
Who’s that freak in front of him? Is that the other mommy or dad or whatever? I can’t tell if that’s a giraffe’s cock or a baby giraffe falling out. Freaks.
Healthcare is for healthy people! And by healthy, I mean white. You’re a racist if you want me to pay for your shit!
The thing is not worth educating. I’m not even educated. Why educate terrorists? ISIS! All lives matter. Except that trans blue giraffe. Deport that fucker.
These are seriously arguments people have in America?
No wonder we’re being punished. We’ve all been a dick to someone, somewhere, sometime, and maybe recently.
Someone has to stop being a dick, and it might as well be you. Your days of being a dick are over. Oh, relax, you homophobic pieces of trash! I said stop being one, not stop sucking them!
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