Unless I am sick as a dog, I haven't slept past 7am on any day of the week, since maybe college? The internal alarm clock in my body goes off and the light switch in my head turns on and there is no going back. I'm awake. No matter how tired I may be from the day before or how bad I probably could use the extra sleep, there is no stopping my body from powering up. I'm honestly pretty robotic. It's Saturday and I'm awake at 6:15am. I usually wake up at 5:30am. I slept in?

I pop and crackle as I stretch out the kinks in my body from the strange sleep positions I contorted into while being down for usually 6-7 hours each night and I can sometimes feel every year of my age as I sit up and take the first steps of my day. My brain is in control of the machine and my brain wants to get going.

I don't drink coffee or any other "upper" in the morning. In all honesty, I've had fewer cups of coffee in my life than years lived. I'm a morning person, but I don’t accompany this routine with any form of stimulants and the only fluid I consume would be water. If you send me to Starbucks to get you anything, you better write it down because I am completely lost in that place. I know as much about ordering coffee as I do building a rocket ship. I've been to Starbucks and I enjoy ordering as much as the baristas enjoy walking me through the steps it takes to order. Want to see a grown man talked down to like a child? Sit down, log into the free Wi-Fi and watch me order. I am sure it is comical to the overpriced coffee drinking hipsters at Starbucks.

It's not a competition for me. I don't need to prove to anyone how much I can accomplish with the least amount of sleep or show the world that I am better because I'm awake earlier. It really boils down to one thing for me.

I don't want to miss a thing.

(Cue Aerosmith)

I want to suck the marrow out of the world and digest as much as I can while I am here. I'm not talking about climbing the Alps or going on a grand safari in Africa, those things would be nice; I'm talking about not missing an opportunity to be a part of it all. To consume the things and the people around me. To just be there. To witness and often contribute. It's not about being the early bird or being the worm, but to be a part of it when it all goes down. I don't have a fear of missing out, but I do have a fear of wasted moments.

When my younger brother died at age 8 (I was 11) my brain flipped a switch and the seed was planted that I needed to not live a wasted life. That I need to contribute, be a part of it all and consume the moments, people and opportunities. I need to matter to the people in my life. Due to a car accident, Jimmy wasn't given a chance to see beyond his first 8 years, so the desire to really live became increasingly important to me. I needed to honor him by not becoming a waste of flesh and bone, but to matter and not miss those opportunities to matter. When Michael passed, my older brother who died a few years ago, I was hit in the head with a tragic reminder that I needed to keep my foot on the accelerator and stick to the promise that I made to myself at age 11. Yeah, some kids were just discovering the opposite sex, while I was plotting out my importance and how I was going to live the rest of my life.

(Cue 5 for Fighting "100 years").

So the first person to greet me this morning as I walked into the kitchen was my 6 year old son Sean. Holding his "woobie" and a few other stuffed animals, he joined me in the living room and we hugged for a while and talked about the things that go on in the head of a 6 year old boy. (Mostly video game stuff). I hugged him tightly and soaked it all in as we rocked back and forth on the love seat. I most likely won't say this about my kids when they get older, but at 9 and 6, I love how they smell. It not only reminds me of my childhood, but I equate the smell to love and my heart fills. Sucking the marrow out of the moment and just digesting the love. This may sound strange to many who are reading this, but I believe most parents will understand.

Today, the reason I woke up and got out of bed was because there was a little boy that I needed to spend a few minutes with on the couch. I needed to matter to him and he certainly matters to me.

#Tryharder to matter in the moments we are given and to those who matter to us.

Throughout my entire childhood my dad preached to be less like him and more of my own person. To work smarter and use my brain more than my body. To not follow in his occupational footsteps. Sound familiar?

Most people want their kids or the next generation to do something different and perhaps easier than what they have had to endure. They (should) want more for the next group and perceive their job or life as harder than and perhaps not as rewarding as what lies ahead for the next generation.

My dad has probably said he hates his job more times than days I've been alive. He fights with his work and battles it with his mind and body. Like a dysfunctional relationship, the two of them (dad and work) can't seem to quit each other. What does my dad still do, two years after he could have retired and the only job he has had since he was seventeen? He runs commercial construction. He builds large buildings and does it very well. He must; he's been doing it successfully for over 50 years and is one of the most respected people in his field.

He wakes up at 4am and always arrives to the job site before 7am. He drives over 100 miles a day to and from these jobs. He takes blue prints home and studies them ahead of time as if he is cramming for a huge test. This same man that claims to hate his job. This same profession that he could have retired from more than 2 years ago.

Here's where it all unraveled for me...

A few months ago my parents came up to do some shopping and go out to dinner. My dad, son Sean and I went to go to the bathroom in this restaurant before we sat down to eat lunch. As we walked in, my dad stopped and looked up, whereas I headed to the urinal with my 5 year old son. As I am pissing, I look back at my dad as he continues to survey this area above the sinks. He then goes to the urinal and minutes later, as we are all washing our hands, I ask him "What's with the ceiling"? His response-"I like how they did the overhang there. I've not seen that before. That would have been kind of fun to build. It's different".

This man, who has hated and fought with his vocation for over 50 years now, just said (for what might be the first time in my life), that something attached to his profession was "fun".

I spent my spring breaks, summer breaks, winter breaks and occasional weekends working for this man. While all my friends were flipping burgers or enjoying their time off, I was hanging drywall, installing insulation and framing out walls with metal studs. Never do I recall him claiming that any of this was fun. As a matter of fact, if I was ever having fun, he would find ways of making sure I stopped having it immediately. Fun and work were opposites and not something you did together when you worked for "Big" Jim.

So there it was. The thing that kept him coming back for more all these years. The thing that kept it interesting and worthwhile. Often in dysfunctional relationships people stay together because "the sex is good"; my dad likes the challenge of doing something different. Building and creating something new. This is what has kept him coming back for more.

Isn't that what keeps us all coming back for more? When it comes to the things that you love or turn you on, you want more. You want it to be exciting and different. You don't have to have a vision, a midlife crisis or a career change every few years to keep the juices going, but you do need a change of pace, a new outlet to poor energy into or a challenge.

These challenges are not always presented to you and sometimes you need to create them for yourself. You have to move and direct your energies so that things don't become stale and mundane. You have to break things, mess with the recipe and challenge yourself to replicate successes and outcomes, but your point of origin could be different. This is how you master your craft or outlet. This is how you keep yourself energized and coming back for more 50 years after you started.

#Tryharder to apply this philosophy to other things besides your occupation. Relationships don't need drama to stay fresh and exciting, they need oxygen and materials to burn. Look for ways to breathe new air into your relationships before they become stale and mundane. Find new timbers and fuel to use and endlessly and tirelessly work at it. This is for all relationships, not just romantic ones. I've been with the same girl for almost 18 years and it's not because we found a groove and stayed in it. It's because we look for new ways to execute the things we enjoy and try not to repeat behaviors unless we both feel that it's the best possibly way at this moment in time. We've been to Disney World 10 times and we do it differently every time. We attempt to always keep our tourist curiosity in the cities we have lived in and enjoy playing guide to our friends from out of town. Comfort zones are for the lazy, but I would be lying if I didn't say they had their appeal.

Using this perspective will surely create new turn-ons, passions and catalysts that keep you coming back for more. It will help you make the best of your situation and perhaps create those sparks that keep you from going postal in a job you've "hated" for 50 or more years. When the environment doesn't provide the opportunity then create your own new and ignite your own spark with a change of fuel and sometimes scenery.