Ever since I can remember, I have always had a vendetta against the world. It is completely irrational, and has been fueled by many dark insecurities that lurk within my mind. Another columnist for this web-zine, Galen Erickson, talks of athletics as self-medication; well, for many years any pursuit I did was to prove to myself that I was worthy of staying alive.

Many people have told me to my face that I am egotistical. I cannot blame them. The unfortunate part is that many of these people do not realize that my ego is a front that I put up to mask the bundle of insecurities that I have carried with me since childhood.

It seems as if everything I do in life is to prove something. For example, during my freshman year of college, when I was rowing on the UW crew team, I had to always be the fastest rower. Another example, I failed out of school and then went back I had to be the student who was the smartest and got straight 4.0s. Another? When I started racing bikes I had to beat everyone in every race. Another still? When my love and long-term girlfriend unexpectedly broke up with me I had to prove my self-worth by writing a 400-page novel in 6 weeks as an attempt to figure out what the hell went wrong.

For years everything I ever did was an attempt to prove to myself that I was worth something. Something special. But I never believed myself, I never believed I was worth anything, so I continued to try and accomplish as much as I could, tried to be the best at everything. I used my fellow classmates and competitors as a gauge. I did not care about beating them; they were merely a way for me to measure myself. If I beat them, then it must mean that I was worth something. If I did not beat my competition, if I did not get my 4.0, if my (then current) girlfriend did not perceive me as someone worth being with, then this must have meant that I was not worthy of being a human. This lead to suicide attempts, near drug overdoses, hospitalization, the list goes on (as you could most likely imagine.)

It is so sad and frustrating how many people possess self-hatred and end up in situations myself. I was trying to control a world that has no control.

But, as I am sure most of you know, people grow up, eventually. Over the years I figured out something was just not right. Now I am in the stage where I at least realize that I put on a cocky front in a futile attempt to compensate for my insecurities. I still have moments where I am prideful, boastful, trying too hard. I have yet to fully stop my act.

I have no doubt that in the end, with much dedication, I will sort through my own demons―as Galen said, with the help of a lot of training―and I think this will be facilitated by HOW I perceive myself.

You see, I believe that everything can be looked at in a positive way. Perception is choice. One must choose to view negatives with positive lights. Instead of perceiving my insecurities as a weakness, I can look at them and realize that the troubles I have experienced have led to many positive traits I possess. Such as: ambition, commitment, dedication, an insane drive to accomplish and succeed and a dedication to figure myself out.
Episode One: A Mistake.

There must be a purpose to every story written. This is the banter I tell myself every time I sit down to write. Yet, rarely do I figure out what the hell my purpose is (consider yourself warned,) or even should be. Mostly I ramble on, and by the end, some cohesive idea hopefully remains. This is the same process I live my life by: ramble, then figure out the meaning later. In short: explore.

I feel as if I need a purpose to this column, as if it is required, mandatory. With this lurking beside me I decided I want to start a discussion including art and athletics. Exactly what this discussion will consist of I have no idea. All I know is that I want to write of both. Why? In my opinion, these two worlds just don’t get each other: tension, conflict, misunderstanding. I tried for a while to combine them, but I failed. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because the lifestyle choices surrounding athletics vs. art are vastly different. At one end there is hedonism, at the other there is regiment. Order vs. Chaos. Debauchery vs. Responsibility. In short, I have two worlds I live in and they don’t mix well.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not trying to dichotomize this all. I hate dichotomies―too much exclusivity in dichotomies, too many limitations. I would rather speak of commonalities, because, at the end of the day, there are similarities between these two lifestyles that I find downright enthralling: unpredictability and development. And these similarities are why I feel as if I live a polarized life, as if I am trying to survive in two gangs that don’t see eye to eye.

What links them all together is my intrinsic ambition and an unfathomable lust for experience that I can’t escape.

Bike racing: there could be a crash. I could win. I could run into a ditch by myself, again.

Drawing/writing: I could fuck up a drawing I spent 34 hours on in one misguided pen stroke, one drop of sweat, ruined. I could delete a big chunk of a novel (been done before)…

Music: The amps could blow; people could hate the music; I could sleep with the hot black-haired girl, I could make people lose their minds.

Unpredictability equates to a rush. Not knowing what will happen gets me off. Yet, stability is for what I long.

Finally, I found a purpose. I figured it out. In this column I am going to be a verbal exhibitionist, because, after all, the world is composed of a bunch of voyeurs. Hear me out. In this column I am going to share all my exploits of trying to balance the reckless world of late nights, scandalous moments, and intentional youth with the athletic world of physical pain, extensive training and seemingly disillusioned dedication to personal goals. You will hear stories of past adventures - like the time I lost my mind one summer and took off into the mountains for a solo hitchhiking/biking trip (sorry, I guess you’ll apparently hear a few) - and of future exploits - I am piecing together an electro-clash band reminiscent of the Vanishing, and I am in the process of opening a multi-purpose gallery space where the entire spectrum of art forms can nestle together.

Back to my purpose. You see, I have this theory that all humans are voyeurs. When a person takes off his or her clothes in the middle of a downtown street, the reason everyone looks at that person is not because the person is naked; rather, the reason people look is because humans are fascinated with the ‘different,’ the ‘absurd,’ the ‘shocking.’ People can’t help but stare and they love it. People want to read about shit that is out of their knowledge box, about experiences that they will never have. So, in the months to come you will have the chance to peak inside my brain, inside my life; I am gonna show a bit of skin and make this interesting, because, everyone likes a good show. Right? And, if everything goes as planned, perhaps you will take away something meaningful.

If none of this makes sense then you are in a perfect place. Just keep in mind that my current life philosophy is to do everything I have ever been scared of. That should help clarify a lot.

Back to athletics. Throughout my years as an elite athlete I have gotten a lot of beef for being eccentric. Sponsors don’t trust me; I have a bad rep as being irresponsible, etc. Without doubt I understand the merit of these claims, yet, the ironic part of the situation is that little do my sponsors and athletic competitors know that people in the art and music world see me as a square, as that kid who goes to bed early and doesn’t rail coke until 5am. So, I just live in this netherworld. A pseudo-identity crisis.

Yet, despite people’s skepticism somehow I have balanced eccentricity, staying up till 2am in the morning, drawing, making music, and I still wake up the next day and kill it on two wheels. It has been five years that I have been juggling this life, and every year I somehow have gotten faster on a bike. I am not going to quit racing, and I am not going to stop exploring every nuance this crazy life has to offer.

Live young. Act old.

Many people have told me that this life-style is the “hard-way-to-learn.” But you gotta understand, I have always worked backwards. I believe making mistakes is the most beautiful aspect of life. If one never makes mistakes, one will never learn anything about life. I am obsessed with learning, and fucking up is the fastest way to learn (Which is why this column is called, “Life of HARM” ?Ed.) Believe it or not, recklessness and responsibility can coincide.

Many people cannot wrap their heads around this. Take the following story as an example. My freshman year of college I had no clue what I was doing. Family problems led to severe depression and this in turn led to me literally failing out school. In the spring of 2003 I was kicked out of the UW with a GPA of 1.2.  This is where life hit rock bottom. This is also when I started racing bikes as a way to gain control over my flailing life. I was making mistakes left and right. But, then, fast forward five years later and all those mistakes added up to me going back to the UW and obtaining two degrees with high honors and GPA of 3.9. I worked my ass off to make up for a mistake. If that mistake hadn’t been made, then I would never have tried so hard to learn from it.

Make Mistakes.