Yesterday I posted a very short update indicating that I’d spent the entire day rethinking everything (and that it was good).

Since then, a few people have asked, “Well, what did you come up with?”

Fair question, though not an entirely simple one to answer. There’s a lot I’ve thought about that I simply haven’t reached a “conclusion” with.

But here’s what I can tell you…

I’m not done (traveling, exploring, adventuring…), but arriving back at my departure point in Las Vegas 59 days later marked a turning point in my story.

“Stage 1”, as I am now referring to it, is over.

I am no longer the person who didn’t know what he would be getting himself into when setting off on my journey. No longer the person who underestimated how challenging my trip would be in ways I did not imagine or anticipate.

I don’t think many people have seen that “challenge” in my story, simply because I’ve made a concerted effort to avoid writing about those things. I’ve aimed to keep it positive. I haven’t wanted to make it appear as if I’m complaining, or that I’ve regretted my decision(s) or that I am looking for “sympathy”.

After all, I’m “living the dream”, right? “Following my bliss”. And that has to feel awesome, right?

So it’s all been: “This is cool!”, “See how neat & exciting this is!?”, “Oh wow, I can’t believe this happened!”, and “I’m loving life!”

But I also think that by not sharing some of the less-desirable aspects of my journey, I’ve removed the “human element” and distanced followers from how real this has been.

So I haven’t mentioned how many times I’ve wanted to quit. How many times I’ve questioned my own judgement. How often I’ve thought what I’m doing is absolutely ridiculous or a waste of time, energy, and resources. Or how absolutely gross I’ve felt after only 2 days without a shower (for the record, I’ve gone 5 — and I was too embarrassed to post about it at the time).

I haven’t mentioned feeling insecure about my appearance or whether the person standing next to me in line somewhere just distanced themselves because I smell (and I just don’t know it).

Or how (after I listened to it a couple days later) embarrassed I was by my first (and as of this writing, only) podcast (no longer available) or how insecure I’ve felt about seeing myself in images or on video.

I’ve never thought of myself of as a physically attractive guy. And I’m not photogenic. Trust me, I’m a photographer. I know photogenic when I see it.

One of the reasons I stay fit, other than it just feeling good & healthy, is purely to compensate for how I think I look. Yes, others have told me I’m attractive, but there’s a difference between hearing it and believing it. Besides, I see myself when I wake up, they don’t.

The videos I’ve taken of myself during my journey have not been “pretty” (which is the reason you haven’t seen them). They cannot match the “golden hour” look of my “Invitation Video”.

And I often look (how I’ve felt) tired and drained. And aged.

And taken out of context, I sometimes sound like someone who’s spent a little bit too much time by himself (though those who know me know that I’m a nut and just trying to be fun & funny — but out of context, I imagine I’d sound crazy to those who don’t have a frame of reference. And compounded with how nuts what I’m doing is, I think I probably look or sound like a deranged person).

And you don’t know my background or my history and if you actually heard the story, you wouldn’t believe it.

Often people think I’ve had it easy in life. I haven’t hinted at the made-for-tv-movie that is my childhood. Or how my “biological father” has been referred to as a “nut job”, “insane”, and “deranged” and, for a time, was actually committed.

And how, as goofy & nutty as I can act, I never want to be confused with legitimately “crazy”. And as much as I can act confident and appear as if I don’t have a care in the world about what people think, there are times that I’m insecure about it.

The reason people don’t believe me when I tell them I’m shy is because I’ve learned to compensate (outward appearances) for it. No, not shy all the time, but I have my moments.

I haven’t written about how disappointing it’s been to fall out of my workout routine and to watch my hard work at maintaining my physique fade away. Or how I still plan on running my 1st marathon by the end of the year, but I have no idea how I’m going to do it or train for it.

I haven’t mentioned how embarrassing it is to explain to people in real life, when they ask, that I sleep in my car. Or how I simply don’t have (what I feel is) a good answer to: “Why are you doing all of this?”, “What’s your point?”, or “What are you trying to accomplish?”

I know how I feel about it, but translating that into words has been difficult. This is something I have to do (for myself). But explaining the “why?” part is tricky.

I haven’t mentioned how disappointed I’ve been in how lackluster my “numbers” (of followers) have been. How big the discrepancy is between how “catchy” what I’m doing is to people I meet and talk to about it, and how totally not catchy it is to people on the internet.

Yes, my numbers continue to rise, but it’s been a slow burn…which is in stark contrast to how fired up most people get when I talk to them in real life about what I’m doing — but on the internet, it’s a different story. I watch my numbers go up ever.so.slowly…and then almost take it personally when I see them go down (on Facebook or Twitter).

I shouldn’t care about numbers or what people think, but I do. To me, every person counts.

Why did they leave? What am I not doing right? Did I post too much? Did I post too little? Is all of this just boring as hell? Do folks just think I’m on vacation? Do they think this is easy? Do they think that I’m somehow “hooked up” and that doors simply open for me?

Do they not realize that as many or more of the people I’ve asked to do studio tours with (or for other opportunities) have either straight out said “No.” or worse, ignored me altogether? I’ve been rejected A LOT. Rejection sucks.

Do folks not realize that meeting and getting photo ops with Jamie Hyneman or Mark Zuckerberg was entirely serendipitous and not planned at all. Or that tours at Pixar, ILM, or Blizzard were simply a result of me knowing people at those locations — and even so, the opportunities that I had to visit were not easy to arrange.

Do people fail to realize that I’m spending my limited savings to do this? That I’m not a trust fund baby. I’ve never been wealthy and I’m just an ordinary dude trying to make the most of what I have?

And that if something wasn’t “wrong” with my life, I probably wouldn’t be doing this? Yes, I’ve had some wonderful opportunities and done some wonderful things and I am entirely grateful for my “good fortune”, yet I am unfulfilled. I haven’t found “my place”. I’m not settled. I haven’t met my “match”. I don’t have a family. And, at times, all of this concerns me.

Do people think I’m trying to appear important or I’m “boasting” about what I’m doing or that I think I am above anyone? (Believe me, I’m not and I don’t. I don’t care about fame. I don’t care about appearing important).

At the same time, it is difficult to acquire an audience without appearing like you have something to offer. And I want an audience, but only because it makes what I’m doing more interesting & interactive to both me & others. And having an audience helps to provide “feedback” on whether what I’m doing is of value or not. And ultimately, by sharing what I’m doing, I want to offer something of value.

Do folks not realize that every single post I’ve made is an experiment in trying to find ways to appeal to as many people as possible (or at least a select group) in hope that what I’m doing will eventually catch on. Sometimes what I do works. Oftentimes it doesn’t.

How is it that some of the most ridiculous “fan pages” can catch wildfire, yet others (like mine) don’t even register (Ok, I’m not giving myself enough credit, “1,000+” followers is not insignificant — but then I look at my photography fan page and I’ve got 1,400+ without doing anything!). How is it that “reality” TV (which isn’t “real” at all) is so popular…yet a story like mine, which is real, with real consequences hasn’t caught on?

I haven’t mentioned how, as independent as I can be, alone I’ve felt at times. Or how often I’ve actually gone beyond my comfort zone. And as much it sounds “good”, the point of going beyond your comfort zone is that it’s not comfortable. And not feeling comfortable is, well…sometimes it completely sucks. It’s not, “Oh boy! I get to feel completely uncomfortable today! Or lonely. Or scared. Or insecure. Or gross.”

I didn’t let on how hard it was for me when my bikes were stolen. How stupid I felt in the decisions I made that allowed that to happen. And how disappointed I was in people who would do such a thing.

Both of the bikes I lost had “a story”. I remember vividly how I felt when I got them. I remember researching the bikes, saving up the money to purchase them and the goals I had in mind when I got them. And how I justified buying a single bike valued at over $3,000 in the first place.

I don’t buy expensive things because they’re expensive or because I’m trying to project “personal value” because of something I own.

When given the luxury of time, I most often buy things after extensive research and pick my purchases very carefully based on my current (and future) needs.

“Will this grow with me?”, “Is the ‘user experience’ worth the investment?”, “Is this expense worth a premium?” are all questions I ask myself. And even when the answer is “Yes”, I try to find a deal (I don’t like paying retail for anything).

So to have both of my bikes (a road bike & a mountain bike) taken away before I’d even had a chance to ride them on this journey, something I was really looking forward to, was a heavy blow.

This is the stuff that has kept me up at night. And it shouldn’t. But I try to figure it all out. Adapt what I’m doing. And make modifications to yield positive results.

I’ve justified keeping all of this to myself, because I think once my journey is “over”, this will make for interesting reading…once it can be encapsulated into something with a beginning, middle, and an end. But, in a way, it’s like baggage and a lot to carry. Particularly on those long solitary days (which there a lot of).

So, in a few days, “Stage 2” begins. And it may not appear much different externally, but internally it will be. I aim to do a few things differently, try a few new things, let go of some of my insecurities, and continue to push forward into the unknown.

And to care less about what others may think. As difficult as that may be.