The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for November 2015

You’re Lucky Your Father Is Alive

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Some of my friends would yell at me if I told them how angry my father made me last week. They’d say I should remember how lucky I am because father’s don’t stick around for as long as we hope they will.

Sometimes they contract terminal illnesses and die younger than they should, they get hit by buses or are murdered.

I have friends who lost their fathers in all of these ways so none of those examples are being used because they make for a better story.

Hell, a better story would be to talk about how they are all still around and that the other stuff was a bad dream, but the thing is that is not true.

They are all gone and unless something crazy happens none of them are coming back here any time soon.

So I am lucky to have a father who managed in under two minutes to make me about as angry as I ever get.

Fortunately there weren’t any doors or walls close by or I very well might have tried to tear them down.

No, I am not exaggerating, dad managed to move us both back in time and instead of just rolling my eyes or ignoring him I saw red.

What Happened To Your Thick Skin?

Most insults roll off of me and unless you are one of a small number of people I don’t care what you say or think about me.

Did I mention that the person who is most likely to be able to pierce my thick skin in 30 seconds or less is my dad.

It has always been like that and even after all these years, the damn man can manage to do what almost no one can.

Maybe it is a good thing we don’t fight all that much, doesn’t mean we haven’t gone at it because we have.

It is like screaming in the mirror and about as effective. I hate fighting with him.

Fortunately fighting is something that we do much, never did. Always been close and with few exceptions we have managed to get along quite nicely.

The funny thing about becoming a parent is realizing that the father you've become sounds like your dadClick To Tweet

Just steer clear of a couple of stories, you know the ones that your parents never let you forget about because for some unknown reason they feel obligated to never let them die a natural death and all is well.

Most of the time that is, there are those moments where they…aren’t.

Moments like the one I referred to above where I wonder how he has managed to do it again and I promise myself that my children will never say anything like this about me.

But those are few and far between.

Ask me to describe my dad and I’ll tell you I learned everything I know about being a father from him and my grandfathers. I’ll tell you about how I learned he was a superhero and how I learned that he was just a man too.

The funny thing about becoming a parent is realizing that the father you’ve become sounds just like your dad. Sure it is your voice speaking but the words that come from your mouth sound just like him.

What Can A Father Teach You?

When I was a wee lad I thought my dad knew everything because he could answer any question I asked him to.

I am not sure when I realized that his knowledge was limited but I also knew that he and mom had provided me with the key to learning anything.

It was all in books and the folks made sure that I learned that the public library was a friend and trusted source of information.

They lit the fire for my love of reading and then sent me to the library so I would never run out of kindling.

BooksAsk me what I dream about and I can promise you I’ll tell you about owning a house that has the kind of library that makes the ones on this list seem like a joke.

Share a moment with me and I’ll talk about overstuffed chairs and couches that are built for reading. I’ll tell you about having nothing but time to read and learn and then I’ll sigh and talk about how I wish I could live to a thousand.

There is never enough time to do all that we want, at least not for me. There is so much to do and to learn.

It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. Aristotle, Metaphysics

Dad is the one who I battled the most with about thoughts and ideas. He is the man who pressed me to account for my actions, to defend thoughts and ideas and to not give in.

He is also the person who made it clear that a smart person doesn’t listen to both sides for the sake of fairness and equality but because it is part of how you figure out what side you really want to stand upon.

Don’t take this to mean that mom wasn’t involved or responsible for who I am, she just played a different role.

Not better or less, different.

There are some things that only a father can teach a son and well…dad did that.

Now it is my turn.

What Kind Of Father Are You?

Many years ago I asked my dad and grandfather if they ever compared themselves to their fathers and they laughed.

They said yes and told me not to waste my time trying to measure up against anyone but myself.

It is good advice and most of the time I follow it.

The world I am parenting in isn’t the same one my parents had to work with.

You can debate and discuss whether technology and the economy have made it harder or easier but it doesn’t matter because we are not going to go back in time.

It is the kind of narishkeit that might make for a good book but doesn’t serve any other purpose for me.

You’re Lucky Your Father Is Alive

I am lucky my father is alive, but the truth is that if he hadn’t almost died this blog probably wouldn’t be here.

If he hadn’t spent all that time on life support I wouldn’t have needed a place to vent and scream so this joint probably wouldn’t be here.

But that is a whole different discussion.

All I know is that I am grateful to have my father in my life and that I hope never to piss off my kids the way he did with me the other day.

Dammit, how does he still do it after all these years.

Some Friendships Are Timeless & Some…Aren’t

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I was about 350 miles into a 500-mile day when I decided I needed to grab a cup of coffee and stretch my legs.

The Starbucks whose sign I saw off of the freeway looked like as good a place as any to rest as did the sound of a red cup filled with 983 ounces of Peppermint Mocha and a couple of espresso shots.

Grabbed a table in the back where I could drink in peace and do some people watching. Didn’t take more than few minutes for a couple of women to grab the table next to mine.

Took them all of thirty seconds to start a conversation about the men in their lives and for me to realize how much some things have changed since I was in my twenties.

It is not just because my first thought regarding Tinder is that it is something I would use to build a fire either.

Nor is it because I didn’t use Google to try to determine if I wanted to date someone or not.

Mainly it is because listening to them talk reminded me that I stopped thinking like someone who is childless a million years ago.

Men & Women Are Different

When I stopped my intention hadn’t been to become a witness to the complete dissection of some men and how they interact/engage with women or to be reminded about how different we are either.

But the 18 inches between our tables made it impossible not to overhear their stories and since I wasn’t engrossed in my phone something one of them said caught my ear.

I couldn’t repeat it verbatim or tell you why it got me thinking, I just know that it did.

It was something to the effect of “you always know a lot from the first time a guy kisses you.”

That was enough to make me curious enough to wonder what it was they were talking about but not enough to interrupt their conversation to ask what it is you know after that kiss.

I thought about the stories the guys and I have exchanged over the years ab0ut women but I couldn’t think of a time when we had ever focused the way these women appeared to on kissing.

That didn’t mean no one ever mentioned it, but it was always in passing and never a focal point.

Most of those conversations ended years ago because once everyone got married no one spent much time sharing those kinds of details anymore.

It didn’t really resume after the divorces started to hit either, it was just something left behind.

But listening to these women next to me speak and thinking about some other conversations I have heard I figure that the dissection of men that women sometimes engage in never ends.

That might be right, might be wrong don’t know that it really matters.

best friend
Two-thirds of the way into my coffee the women moved from men into a discussion about breaking up with friends. That one really made me think a bit.

In part it was because I received a Facebook notification about some pictures one of the guys had posted.

He had just come back from a long vacation but I had no idea he had gone on one. Hell, I didn’t have a clue if that was the first or 987th one he has taken this year, last year or the year before.

Kind of made me sad to realize that I don’t know much about what he is doing now because there was a time when he was one of the closest friends I had.

Thirty some years of friendship and we are not exactly strangers but we aren’t particularly tight anymore either.

He never got married and never had kids so there are areas of life that our very different and since we no longer live in the same city the distance plays a role too.

We usually grab a beer when he is in town and hang out a bit, but those visits aren’t a yearly thing.

For a while I made a point to call or email on a regular basis. Whenever we connected he was present and everything felt normal, but somewhere along the way I got tired of feeling like it always  had to be me to make the effort to stay in contact.

So I stopped and here we are.

Some Friendships Are Timeless & Some…Aren’t

Two weeks ago my son asked me if he could make plans with a friend for Thanksgiving break.

“Dad, Tom and his family are coming back for Thanksgiving. I want to make plans to see him when he gets here.”

“How long has it been since they moved away?”

“Almost a year.”

“Call him and see about setting up a time to hang out.”

“I’ll try, he is not good about calling back. Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesnt.”

That led into a longer conversation about friendship and a comment from me about how some friendships are timeless and some aren’t.

Who knew a short time later I’d repeat what I said to him to me.

A Good Writer Goes To War

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The Shmata Queen once looked at me and asked if I ever held still.

I laughed.

It is a fair question and one that has been my entire life. Sometimes I respond by telling people I have two speeds, glacial and warp, but most of the time I just smile and nod my head.

That’s because I have an imagination that never quits, more questions than a classroom full of toddlers and a need to find answers to all the hows and whys that come with it.

When things are really clicking it feels like energy radiates from me or at least it does to me, can’t say what it is like for others.

That is part of what drives me as a writer and why I have tested so many of the blogging tools and platforms out there.

Granted some of it comes from a love for gadgets and tools and some of it is a never-ending quest to find a better way to tell a story.

A Good Writer Goes To War

I haven’t decided if it would be smarter and more accurate to say a good writer goes to school because every day I attend the Steiner school of writing.

It is where I spend ridiculous amounts of time trying to learn how to become a better writer and a better storyteller.

One of the tools I once used in class was something called Posterous. It was a blogging platform that was particularly easy to use on mobile devices.

I really liked using it because it was ridiculously easy to post from my Blackberry.  I wrote a post called That Crazy Feeling using Posterous and my BB while sitting in a waiting room.

If you don’t want to click on the link you can read the story below:

I have that crazy feeling again. The whispers in the dark and the sense of something waiting for me in the dark is back.

Like an old friend I welcome doubt with a hug and a smile. Call it a front, a clever facade constructed by a man who wishes to pretend that things are other than they are.

The great contradiction of my life lies among the leaves I step upon. I hear them crunching beneath me and feel branches scrape against my body. I have walked through this forest so many times that I can’t help but to be surprised by the presence of things that I have never seen before.

I stop and stand in place, ears straining to pick up on the sounds around me. The forest is a place that guards its secrets well. Treasures and traps are hidden inside. Step carefully or risk waking the demons. Walk with purpose and strength so that those who already know of you recognize that you are not be trifled with.

Spinning slowly I try to determine if lack of awareness is to blame. Perhaps these things were always here and I never noticed. It is possible as is the possibility that these things have always been here.

The forest is constantly growing and changing. Evolution is part of its existence. I am forever amazed by this and touched by how light can impact my view of it.

In daylight it is always warm and inviting, but night time is different. At night the warmth changes and places that never see that sunlight take control.

Are the beings that roam nearby friendly or malevolent. Do they notice my presence? Can they feel the flame that burns inside or is it too slight and insignificant for them.

I am here because I have questions and doubts that must be addressed. I cannot ignore them any longer.

Awareness is a double edged sword. I cannot walk naked through the garden anymore. I am aware of all and the consequences that come with it.

But awareness means that I can revel in life and experience the sort of joy that makes a man weep with joy.

So here I stand, in the center of the forest. When the rage and frustration come I allow them to wash over me. I bathe in them and drink deeply from the cups they offer.

It provides me with protection and with strength but only at great cost. When it comes I do not sleep. For days I engage in battles I dare not lose.

No one can help me, no succor, no aid to be offered. No quarter is asked for and none is given.

Eventually exhaustion sets in and I am forced to lay down my arms. For a while I am too tired to sleep and then I do.

Beloved rest takes me in its arms and as I close my eyes the blackness takes me. I dream of things, of people and places. Blissfully unaware I slumber.

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours. The days pass and I wake up refreshed and ready to resume my quest.

I am centered and focused again. The search for the answers has resumed. I know nothing and I know everything. My heart and soul are scarred but those are signs of life experience. I bear those symbols gladly because the life I wish to live demands nothing less.

It is better to reach fore that which lies just outside of my grasp than to settle for the fruit that has already fallen.

The end
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A Good Writer Goes To War Continued

If you want to know more about why I say war it is because it is a constant fight to do more, be more and improve upon what I have done.

Some days are easier than others. Some days the words flow freely and others…less so.

But I never quit and I never stop. No retreat, no surrender.

Ask me what the goal is and I’ll tell you it is to improve. Ask me to provide you with something more specific, something tangible and I’ll say 98 Pulitzers and a handful of Nobels.

One of the things I love about this is that it is not like the sports I love to play. I am a better basketball, baseball and football player now than I have ever been,

But the tragic thing about that is I can’t really show you because my body isn’t what it once was. I can’t run or jump the way I used to.

That is because time has had its way and I am subject to the same laws of physics as you. My physical skills aren’t what they once were but my mental/emotional are a thousand times better.

Smarter and tougher, but it happened too late for me to make the kind of impact I would have liked to.

But that is not the case with writing. There are no limitations placed upon us because of age.

broken heart
Those words above resonate with me as a man and  a writer. There is a simple elegance to them.

That is the kind of writing I want for me and to be but with my own style and touch.

Remember When Twitter Was Useful

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The original title of this post is Was It Worth $63 Dollars?

It is a reference to a parking ticket I got while waiting for someone to arrive. It wasn’t my first choice, wasn’t something I wanted, not that anyone really wants a parking ticket.

I certainly didn’t, but the man I had come to see had rescheduled three meetings and was running almost an hour late.

You can call that ticket the symbol of a calculated risk. It is a bet that a small investment of cash and time will lead to a significantly larger return.

If I take the man I met with at his word than I can tell you it was well worth it because I walked out of there with an agreement that hadn’t existed prior to our meeting.

We sealed it with a handshake and now I wait to see if he meant what he said.

Remember When Twitter Was Useful

I wasn’t going to use that subhead as the headline for this post because I thought there was more magic with Was It Worth $63 Dollars?

But I changed my mind, figured there would be more clicks and traffic with Remember When Twitter was Useful and well, here we are.

And after seven years of being an active user I have seen Twitter rise and fall.

I remember the days when Twitter was like a giant cocktail party, a never ending conversation with people all over the world.

All you had to do was ask/answer a question and you could almost guarantee that you would engage with and be engaged by people.

That changed along the way.

Can’t say when it was or blame it on a single thing. I can just tell you it went from feeling like your favorite bar/restaurant to something noisy and chaotic.

A place filled with noise, chaos and clutter and I am probably part of the problem.

When I agreed to automate some posts I did so with good intentions thinking it would help me engage with people when I wasn’t around and build influence.

But you can’t really engage when you’re not there, now can you and as my kids will tell you, good intentions don’t always yield good results.

I have tried to adjust how I use it, modified my behavior so that there was a better balance and for the most part it has worked well.

But the secret of that success requires me to be present and very active. It requires engaging with people and because it is more crowded, cluttered and noisy it is not as easy as it used to be.

Or maybe it is as easy as it ever was. Maybe it is not Twitter that has changed. Maybe it is me.

I don’t have the same amount of time I used to have and now I have less interest in spending it all on Twitter.

newton people

I love quotes like the one above from Newton because they remind me that the more things change, the more people stay the same.

Speaking of change and people one of the things I love/appreciate about blogging is how it enables you to look back at moments in time and see where you were, what you thought and how things were.

While I was waiting for the $63 dollar man something happened that made me think of Is It Intuition Or Desire?

Don’t ask me to describe the thought process that led me from the present to a post from the past because it will make as much sense to you as the Lewis Black bit about the woman who says if it wasn’t for her horse she wouldn’t have graduated college.

Some time ago I thought I was bearing witness to something unraveling and now I see it differently. It wasn’t unraveling, it was unwrapping.

It is time to go deep again. Time to go further than before and to push harder. Into the stillness and into the deep to find the answers that must reside within.

My 11 going on 30-year-old daughter told me she knows that grownups don’t know everything and that sometimes she thinks we just make stuff up.

I told her she was right and that there are no maps or guidebooks. We’re all on our own individual journey as well as a collective one.

I think she was surprised by that. She squinted at me and asked if that meant I was going to tell her I was moving out of state or if we are all moving this time.

It made me smile because it was a mix of accusatory and “I trust you dad.”

“Baby girl, we’re not moving today. Can’t say it won’t ever happen, can’t say it will.”

“Daddy, you have that look in your eyes. The one that says you are thinking about something else. I am old enough to know, just tell me.”

“I am always thinking. I think about stories I have heard, stories I want to write and stories I don’t know. I think about taking care of you guys and wonder where life will lead.”

“Daddy, that is not an answer.”

I hugged her and told her I wasn’t holding back or messing with her.

Sometimes you have a feeling inside that life has been preparing you for something but you can’t always identify it.

At best you can sense it coming but it is hard to prepare for what you can’t see so if you are smart you keep living your life until the mist clears and then you just roll with it.

lonely jobIt is after midnight now and I haven’t a clue if my $63 man has any idea how important our meeting was to me.

Chances are he is not sitting in a chair writing about the experience or trying to figure out if it is tied into the unwrapping of other events.

He is probably not wondering if his words moved anyone or thinking about his air. Since he hasn’t a clue that his lack of timeliness led to a parking ticket he certainly isn’t wondering if the $63 is/was worth it.

Was it worth $63 dollars?

I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I go the distance, no risk, no reward.

Sometimes It’s Not About You

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There was a time when I “owned” the top spot on Google for The Heart Wants What It Wants.

That link above leads to the post that held the title, well not the original version of it but that’s not the point.

You see some pop singer who has a larger fan base than I did put out a song with a similar name and it knocked my post off its pedestal, least I think it did.

Truth is the original went up in 2007 and there is a good chance it was moved from its place long before I noticed.

A while back I mentioned this in passing to another blogger and they told me I had to do whatever I could to try and regain my spot and how they would never let this happen to them.

When I didn’t jump up and say they were right they suggested I was making a huge mistake and I told them it wasn’t about what they would do, but what I wanted to do.

Sometimes it’s not about you.
doorknockSaturday night I took Steiner the Minor to see Spectre.

A few hours earlier I mentioned we were going to another father on the soccer fields and he told me he wouldn’t waste his time seeing it because the reviews were awful.

I told him I didn’t care, I always like James Bond and my primary interest was in spending time with my son.

Kid is in high school now and when he is home he is often locked away in his room. Won’t be much longer before he is driving and we’ll see him even less than we do now.

I am not surprised by any of this, I was the same way when I was his age so I am doing my best to spend time with him when I can.

Other dad asked me if I really wanted to waste money. I told him that sometimes it is not about you and that I don’t rely solely upon the critics to make decisions about what I see or not.

I don’t wear a sweater just because you are cold.

69 Life Lessons From Building A Blog

Stephen King wrote a great book about writing that I keep next to my desk. It is filled with all sorts of useful information, some of which I have shared in posts here.

He is not the only author I refer to for his/her expertise on writing but in some ways he gets the most play because of his book.

It is probably part of why he gets so much play around the blogosphere too, especially this one:

“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.”
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

I appreciate his advice and I often listen to it, but sometimes I don’t because Stephen it is not always about you either.

I didn’t kill my darlings in any of these posts because they needed to live and they added to the tale:

I didn’t do it because sometimes you have to go with your gut and do what feels right, in spite of what you hear and see from others.

Been thinking that maybe this is why I feel like I have lived most of my life looking from the outside in.

It is not to say I haven’t gone along with the crowd or done what the others do because I did. I have and I am sure I will again.

I am not always the rogue, maverick or outlier.

Sometimes I am just Jack Steiner, just a man doing my best to get through it all.

Sometimes I think about it and wonder if it has served me well as a father and most of the time I am good with it.

Most of the time I am good with it, but sometimes I have to tell myself sometimes it is not about you and ask if it serves my children too.

Life Is The Most Complicated Simple Thing Ever

Remember a few moments ago how I said that I don’t always listen to Stephen because sometimes it is not about him. Well, sometimes I ignore one thing and listen to another because it feels like he just gets it.

“I have spent a good many years since―too many, I think―being ashamed about what I write. I think I was forty before I realized that almost every writer of fiction or poetry who has ever published a line has been accused by someone of wasting his or her God-given talent. If you write (or paint or dance or sculpt or sing, I suppose), someone will try to make you feel lousy about it, that’s all.”
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Many years ago when I was just an ordinary writer who didn’t know about blogs because they hadn’t been invented and didn’t use computers to write upon because I typed or hand wrote my stories all I had to use to tell those tales were words.

Now we have all sorts of nifty devices so I can insert pictures, music and videos into these posts.

So now I ask myself if my writing suffers because I rely too heavily upon these tools or because I don’t use them enough.

Reminds me of a time when I kissed someone I had kissed before and discovered that some fires are never extinguished the way you think they might be.

There had been years in between kisses and a lot of life lived between yet that moment made all the gears start clicking and I remembered things I had forgotten.

Possibility met opportunity and a new picture was painted.

Sometimes it’s not about you and sometimes it is all about you.

69 Life Lessons From Building A Blog

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I learned a long time ago that I don’t do well with being told I am not capable of doing something. Tell me no and there is a damn good chance I will decide to prove you wrong.

When I choose to, I can be the most patient impatient person you have met. I am the guy who will figure out how to pull the moon out of the sky using a lever and brute strength.

It has led to some great stories, but they were not and are not always pleasant to tell/remember because life isn’t a movie.

P.S. I am not a big fan of list posts. Most are poorly done and or tied into the ridiculous blogosphere popularity contests. That is my way of saying you aren’t going to find 69 lessons here, maybe 983 or maybe 5 but it won’t be in list format.

Stick around or don’t.

Yeah, I am cranky and writing because if I don’t I’ll go looking for trouble and there is doubt we’ll find each other, we always do.

Sometimes shit happens and it doesn’t matter how smart, how talented or how worthy you are. Sometimes heroes fail and sometimes people fail to be heroes.

The Seesaw World Of Building A Blog

After I wrote that subhead I stopped writing and spent a few minutes thinking about whether I should make it the headline of this post.

Took my hands off of the keyboard and thought about whether it would lead more people to point and click their way into the blog and down the screen.

Thought about whether more would take the time to read and consume than if I left the current headline in place and thought ‘screw it, that headline is fine.’

I am not here to pull people in solely by headline. Granted if you don’t find a way to get them to click it doesn’t matter because it is a fundamental part of gaining readers.

But so is providing content that makes them want to stay and to return.

Fact is I like doing things my way and maybe, must maybe this is all tied into my not wanting to let people tell me I can’t build a blog my way.

The one truth I know about building a blog that is indisputable in my world is that if you don’t spend time commenting on other blogs your traffic will reflect it.

Ok, there are bloggers who prove that to be wrong, but for most of us it seems to bear some truth. I don’t comment the way I used to.

Sometimes I go on a tear and hit the old spots and some new. When I do that I see a spike, but otherwise things are kind of sleepy around here.

That is ok with me, I’d like more but right now I have to focus my time on other things and the extra I find goes into writing.

It is all tied into the seesaw world of building a blog, sometimes it goes up and sometimes it goes down.

And don’t get me started about the tech stuff that comes up. I like tinkering but damn, sometimes it is really frustrating when I can’t get things to look or work as I want.
Tastelife
I ought to go look in the mirror and slap the face I see there.

That is because I am frustrated. Pissed off with some people who did me wrong and angry because I knew it would happen.

Frustrated because things went to hell and for a while I couldn’t stop the damn avalanche from burying me but it couldn’t stop me from digging myself out.

And I did, I dug and dug and pulled my ass out of the hole and climbed two-thirds of the way back up to where I was.

This time I am going to push past that spot for no other reason than just because.

And I am pissed off because I tasted life the way I wanted to taste it and figured out I was right about a bunch of things.

Right about gut feeling, instinct and intuition and that got ripped out of my hands during the damn avalanche.

You have to understand, I may not be the most graceful fellow around but I have a grip that makes a gorilla jealous and when I hold on it takes more than a little to pull it out of my grip.

Yet it happened.

Sometimes heroes fail and sometimes people fail to be heroes.Click To Tweet

I tell my kids that when things don’t go our way we can wallow or we can recover. We can react or we can act.

Now is just a reminder to listen to my own advice and to remember that past history isn’t proof of anything. It is proof that you had success and you had failures.

At best it is a guide we can use to navigate through the storms and find our way to port.

And blogging, well blogging is part of my navigation system. It is a tool I use to figure out where I am at, see if I need a course correction and remind myself that sometimes it is sunny during storms.

Are You Willing To Work For It?

Took my kid to see me play ball with the guys not for the purpose of showing off but to demonstrate what I mean by are you willing to work for it.

He saw me fight for position, box out, dive for balls and force the offense to change what they were doing because I wouldn’t give up.

I got beat on some plays and looked like an old man on some others.

But I made an impact. I made a difference.

And I did it through working harder than the other guy when I had to and working smarter whenever I could.

Now he understands what I mean when I say “are you willing to work for it?”

He saw a simple example of what happens when you apply yourself and proof that even if it doesn’t work every time you just keep going,

What he didn’t see was me popping a few Advil afterwards or the bruise on my arm and I am not going to show him either.

Dad, isn’t always Superman but he is not always a goat either.

You get out what you put into life.