Guest Posts, HTBASF, Sportz, Useless Observation

HTBASF: Sports Hate

This guest post is brought to you by a new Twitter friend, Ben Zajdel. Ben is a graduate of the University of Texas at Dallas, works in a Christian bookstore, watches entirely too much basketball (PERFECTLY okay with me), and has written a few short books you might enjoy. You can keep up with him at his website, or on Twitter, @benzajdel.

I’ve been told my whole life not to hate people. It’s in the Bible, of course. It says there that hating someone is essentially like murdering them, or at least wanting to. My mom would scold me if I said I hated anything, including broccoli. Even my family doctor told me that hate was an ugly word when I informed him that I hated shots.

I understand their point of view. I don’t think I should dislike a person or a thing so much that it makes my chest burn, my eyes water, and my heart race. That’s obviously not healthy. I don’t advocate hating people, races, religious groups, politicians, cats, or Yankees fans, especially to the point of wishing them harm.

But there is something I call Sports Hate. It’s a little different. This type of hate doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, or arrested, or any actual misfortune take place on a team or individual. This type of hate is much simpler, and a little less violent. When you Sports Hate a team or player, you just want them to lose. All the time. Sometimes it’s for good reason, like if they defeated your team in the playoffs the previous year. Other times it makes no sense whatsoever, and your hate simply springs from the way a guy cuts his hair. There are plenty of ways to develop Sports Hatred, and the longer you watch and play sports, you gain and lose some Sports Hate along the way.

Continue reading “HTBASF: Sports Hate”

Lazy Post, Living Is Awesome, Useless Observation, Video Breakdown

Life With Tabs, Ep. 1

The GBOAT is proud to present the first episode in the webseries Life With Tabs.

Tabs loves you. A lot. She just doesn’t know how to express it.

And now for a brief serious note, okay? Okay.

It’s been a few months since I’ve genuinely cared about my friends. That’s just being honest. I was getting so frustrated at times with ALL the people in my life, I stopped caring like I should have. Then, everything cracked and broke open and I was instantly surrounded by so many who care for me greatly, even though I was the worst to them. Wow. I can’t even begin to understand any of that. Continue reading “Life With Tabs, Ep. 1”

Misplaced Mississippian, Real Talk, Storytelling

My River Soul

Every time I visit New Orleans, I take a moment to stare out over the Mississippi River.

I’ve never been sure why I do it. Perhaps it’s an act of sentimentality. Maybe there’s something soothing about it to me. Maybe I am jealous of Huck Finn and his ability to just follow the flow of the river and see where it takes him. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know that I have to stare out over that muddy river.

Since my life has taken every sort of strange turn that it possibly could, I found myself in New Orleans twice already this week. Monday, I had been asked to tag along to a Mumford and Sons concert at the last minute. When I say last minute, I mean it. We basically drove three hours in order to miss most of it and only catch some 50 minutes of the show.

And it was totally worth it. Continue reading “My River Soul”

Misplaced Mississippian, Real Talk, Storytelling

Eternity Will Smile On Me

I never said I was honest
I never said I was honest
But I am true
And I am true

I know that my tweets are sad and you’ve probably noticed. I’ve said a LOT via social media in the past week or so. But it’s hard to really explain things in 140 character segments, so it only makes sense to write about it in detail. So here it goes.

I’m Joseph Craven, and I want to be honest. I want to be honest about my struggle with depression. Continue reading “Eternity Will Smile On Me”

Real Talk

Block Out The Care

This post was written last week and posted last Wednesday. It was written as I was thinking about substance abuse and why people turn to escapism. Mainly, I was concerned with the fact that escapism doesn’t just get us far away from the things that bother us, it also removes us from the things we actually care about. It removes us from actually feeling anything at all.

Coming from a family that has backgrounds with addiction problems and all, this is a concept that I really felt like writing about and sharing. Given the tone of it all, though, at the time it was posted it didn’t seem right. It seemed like it needed a preface. So here’s the preface.

I feel like we all have escapes. Some turn to the drink. I can say I’ve done that before and it’s not worth it, so I don’t anymore. Some turn to stronger things. Me? I turn to music. I try to drown it all out so I can’t focus on what it is that I’m trying to escape from. But escapism isn’t a solution.

So anyway, here is what I wrote. Feel free to read on if you so wish. Don’t worry: I’m not about to kill myself or something, which is what I’m afraid the tone accidentally conveyed. Like everything I write, it is just written to try and make sense of things. Getting my thoughts on paper. You are never obligated to share in these thoughts, but I do appreciate the company. Thanks for your support, everybody. I pray that maybe someday we won’t feel the need to escape anymore. Until that day comes, you’ll likely find me in my headphones on, filling my world with music. Continue reading “Block Out The Care”

Misplaced Mississippian, Real Talk, Storytelling

Where I Begin

So I learned cut out the middle man. Make it all for everybody always.
Everybody can’t turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows. I told them.
– Childish Gambino

One of my earliest memories is lying on the ground in my garage and crying. In fact, there’s a pretty good chance it IS my earliest memory.

My parents still live in the same house they have for the past 28 years, so I can go back to that garage any time I want to look at the spot where I lay flat on my back and cried. Not that I remember much, of course. I mean, that memory is me on the ground crying after slipping on a wet spot and hitting my head really hard on the concrete. I don’t recall how old I was. That’s probably understandable.

I like to jokingly blame a lot of things on that blow to the head. Like the weird huge bump on the back of my skull. Or the fact that I often get my words mixed up or jumbled together like I have some sort of speech impediment. Or my absent mindedness. But in all actuality, I got a kiddie-sized concussion and life moved on and it probably didn’t affect anything.

Other than, of course, the fact that one of my earliest memories is lying on the ground in my garage and crying.

Continue reading “Where I Begin”