It was Sunday afternoon.  The sky was overcast, the wind was calm, and I was looking at the pattern and majesty of the rippling clouds in the sky.  Exhausted, I sat down to check Twitter for the umpteenth time, curious what the stock futures would hold for Monday morning and what other random news and thoughts were filling the virtual world of the cloud.

Drenched in sweat, legs aching and lungs burning, I had just finished playing a competitive racket sport for the first time since coronavirus had shut life down in March.  I realize today that it had been the longest time I’d ever been away from any kind of competitive racket match in my life, and it made me miss squash.  And the training.  And the stretching with friends and opponents after a hard training session.  And, every 2nd weekend, drinking with them in some remote town in Canada after the Saturday night banquet and we’d beaten each other up on the court for the previous 2 days.  I spent 7 years of my life training my ass off, skipping drinking, and ignoring friendships, with the single minded determination of making the National junior team.  I improved so much; I learned so much; I traveled so much, but I still got cut the week of the World Championships, after we got to Egypt for the tournament, and after the Individual Championships had ended.  5th on a team of 4. I never did get to play a match for the Junior National Team.  I could have worked harder.  Eaten better.  And eaten less pizza.  It was my fault.  I knew it then.  I know it today.  There are no do-overs.  Of the many learning opportunities I’ve had in my life, that moment, and the realizations that came with it, never left me.  If you want something, take accountability for your success and earn it.

25 years later, the pickleball match yesterday pales in comparison to the prestige of playing at the Pan American Games (which I did, after 3 more years of training harder than I did as a junior because… lessons), but a win is a win, and I hate to lose more than anything in the world.  I thought I was going to have a heart attack in the fourth game, and all I wanted to do was lie down.  But quitting is for losers and if I was going to lose, it was not going to be for lack of effort.  We are playing the rematch in 20 minutes.

In truth, ​I credit much of yesterday’s success, and am grateful for, the decision to give up booze and carbs on Friday.  While I admit that 72 hours isn’t a long time, on the margin, it couldn’t have hurt.  The logic: I gave up booze because I was having the shakes every morning and I gave up carbs because of my episode with Ivor Cummins, who brought to light that had he known about food “then” like he knows “now”, he could have extended his father’s life materially. Bloated, fat, out of shape and drinking too much, I made a choice because no one else was going to make it for me. Eat less. Exercise more. It is that easy, and only I can do that for myself.

I put all this in context because where we started was “I sat down to check Twitter for the umpteenth time” yesterday and I had a lot on my mind, top of which was personal accountability.  Which brings us to the Twitter post at the top of the article.  I translated 43 years of experience and belief in personal accountability in the backdrop of BLM and Lockdowns and COVID and Masks in a 280 character tweet.  Wear a mask for others? No.  Wear it for yourself.  Complain about how you haven’t had the opportunities in life?  Did you really commit yourself 100% to school?  Got fired (again)?  Did you really communicate as effectively as you should have?  What the F@&K is Wrong with Everybody Else?  You.  Take accountability.  And I messaged it through GPA.  I put the phone down, and I didn’t check it again for 16 hours.

I don’t get much engagement on Twitter.  It’s not my favorite platform, it’s only 280 characters and I make no secrets of my opinions of it.  So when I got 20 emails, and multiple DMs from people telling me to either a) F off, I’m making $85,000 a year and you are an A-hole or b) you got to delete that post, people are going crazy… I discovered that I ran an accidental social experiment and didn’t realize it.

First: the post was written as “If you don’t like your life the way it is, don’t blame others, check your GPA. If you want better for your kids, check their GPA.” That is not that way it was read.  People responded, and they responded viscerally.

Some interpreted that I was saying “A GPA is key to your success”.  Absolutely not.  Success is related to how hard you work and what you choose to work at.  Squash is a perfect example.  Another is in my particular case, choosing to treat my career the way a professional athlete treated theirs, and that is to work, and work and work some more.

Others reacted with “I had a 1.2 and I’m successful.”  Yes!  You are!  Because you didn’t blame anyone, you didn’t let it hold you back.  You went out there and kicked ass, and that’s awesome.

And many others attacked me. All of these things are a reflection on the world in which we live today. Is it odd to you that 280 characters written by someone most of the Twitter crowd doesn’t know personally (and if you knew me, you wouldn’t be remotely bothered about what I wrote) triggered so many people, but, the fact that the Government has stolen your freedom, restricted your ability to live and earn a living, and is constantly moving the goal posts on what we are trying to accomplish, results in virtually no one objecting? I certainly think so. And that’s the problem with a country governed 280 characters at a time, for our entertainment, when only negativity emotes a response like a drug.

Before the tweet storm that ensued, I had made some proactive changes to my lifestyle to take responsibility for my happiness with the world and its government. As such, I’ve been deeply considering the role of this blog, posting to LinkedIn, and life on Twitter… In a COVID world, I find that for now, writing often feels like beating my head against a wall trying to fight for other people’s freedoms. I now see how it should come as no surprise the exercise isn’t making me happy. I can’t fight these fights for others, I can only fight battles for myself, and live with personal accountability. Make your own choices and live with them. This was the simple message I intended to share on Twitter, a reminder to all that we are responsible for our happiness and safety (not our neighbor, government, or employer). I will work on me, and hope it inspires you to work on you.