Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 15

Losers are ruining the world

“I knew that one day we might have to watch as capitalism and greed and bigotry led to a world where powerful men, deserving or not, would burn it all down. What I didn’t expect, and don’t think I could have foreseen, is how incredibly cringe it would all be. I have been prepared for evil, for greed, for cruelty, for injustice – but I did not anticipate that the people in power would also be such huge losers.”

Rachel Shaw of The Guardian is writing, of course, about Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and the like.

I like these sentences a lot.

I also think this sentiment is both accurate and useful.

The worst thing you can do to someone like Musk, Zuckerberg, or Trump is to laugh at them.

Or even better:

Make fun of them in a way that causes others to laugh at them.

Lacking a healthy ego and a true sense of self, these spineless men demand capitulation and sycophancy to procure the love and respect they so desire because they cannot find it within themselves or willingly from the people around them.

This is the problem with the bully, the liar, and the confabulist:

They lack self-love, so they must demand, manipulate, or fabricate it from others, even if it’s incredibly obvious that the love expressed is false, forced, or expressed for self-gain.

Laughing at them is the last thing they want. It’s something that cringy losers like Donald Trump and Elon Musk cannot bear. They can’t make fun of themselves, and they especially really can’t abide others making fun of them.

It reminds them of who they believe themselves to be in the quiet of their hearts.

It’s a signal that their delicate facade is cracked. We see through their patina of bluster and braggadocio.

We also see them for who they truly are.

So keep it up, Rachel Shaw. Let these cringy losers know that we see their true selves with clear eyes and abject disgust.

Snacks and smoothies and bongs

When I was a kid, marijuana was illegal. Seemingly as illegal as cocaine and heroin.

I’ve never used marijuana in any form, but as a kid, it was the kind of thing you only did if you were willing to risk imprisonment.

The world is very different today. Recreational marijuana is legal in 24 US states, the District of Columbia, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, and the US Virgin Islands.

Connecticut, where I live, and every state bordering Connecticut are included in those 24 states.

So I see it a lot. Dispensaries. Advertising. The use of marijuana in public.

Also signs like the one we saw in Queens last week:

Snacks
Bongs
Sandwiches
Smoothies
And More

Bongs.

The world sure has changed quickly.

It’s interesting to note that the dangers of smoking marijuana — similar to the risks of smoking tobacco — seem to be ignored entirely. Perhaps this is because people don’t smoke marijuana as often as someone addicted to nicotine, but increased risks of cancer, emphysema, and other airway and lung damage occur when smoking marijuana.

I’ve always felt that lighting something on fire and sticking the other end in your mouth is a stupid thing to do, regardless of the thing on fire, and it’s probably true.

Years ago, a successful author asked me to join him and his friends as they smoked cigars on his porch.

I passed. Smoking cigars also strikes me as stupid. Standing amid people smoking cigars also seems stupid. I’ve also found most cigar smokers to be the kind of people whom I don’t like, and they tend not to like me.

The author was annoyed with me for passing on his offer, which proved my point.

Not my kind of guy.

I’m happy people aren’t imprisoned for marijuana use anymore.
I support the decriminalization of marijuana.
I’m thrilled that it genuinely helps some people medicinally.

I still think recreational use — lighting something on fire and sticking the opposite end in your mouth — is kind of stupid.

Blanket lobster statements

A woman at an event tells me a story about lobsters.

She says that every year or so, lobsters “get uncomfortable” and shed their shells to make room for the new ones.

“We need to let kids get uncomfortable,” she says, “So they can grow, too.”

Sure, I think. Kids indeed need to be challenged to grow. I don’t think lobsters “get uncomfortable,” and if they do, we’re hardly in a position to know. It may simply be instinct that triggers the shedding of their shell. Perhaps a change in water temperature or sunlight serves as a trigger.

It’s hard to know what a lobster “thinks” given it has no language and a teeny tiny brain.

If you eat lobster, by the way, you’d better hope it can’t think anything, because if their old shell makes them uncomfortable, how do they feel about you boiling them alive?

But I don’t say any of this. I simply nod. I’m on a business trip. No need to fight with someone who is client-adjacent.

Then she says we need to get kids off anxiety medications and force them to cope with the world and all its complexity.

Now I can’t resist.

“All of them?” I ask. “Get every kid off anxiety medication.”

“Pretty much,” she says. “We didn’t have anxiety medication when we were kids, and we did just fine.”

It takes every bit of strength in my body not to respond. Again, she’s client-adjacent, so I’m trying to behave myself.

“By the way,” she adds. “I use that lobster story a lot.”

I could tell.

I disengage as quickly as possible, suddenly realizing I was dealing with a simpleton — someone with a black-and-whte world view who is upset about how things have changed and how destabilizing it feels for her to be living in a place that does recognize as something akin the world of her youth anymore.

These are some of our world’s most problematic people. They fixate on the changes that make them uncomfortable and cite them as societal problems while embracing changes in technology, medicine, manufacturing, transportation, and entertainment.

They pick and choose, blaming the changes that violate their sense of self or complicate their worldview while celebrating those that fit well into their lifestyle and have made their lives easier and more profitable.

Is anxiety medication overprescribed to children today?

Maybe. I don’t know. I wouldn’t presume to know. I’m not a doctor, nor am I a public or mental health expert.

Neither is lobster lady.

But am I absolutely certain that anxiety medication has helped some young people enormously and made their lives indescribably better?

Yes, I am.

Meanwhile, the lobster lady was getting drunk on wine and needed help walking into the restaurant for dinner a few hours later.

Why?

Like the lobster, maybe she was uncomfortable being sober.
Maybe she was using alcohol to take the edge off her own anxiety.
Maybe she was self-medicating with a non-prescription, mood-altering substance.

I don’t know, nor would I presume to know.

Either way, black-and-white simpletons are annoying.

Notes from the second night of Shovel

A few interesting notes from two nights of my new solo show, Shovel;

My second night performance was a much more enjoyable affair for me. On the first night, I told one of the first stories out of order, necessitating a mental gymnastics session of epic proportions to keep the show’s logic intact and ensure that transitions still made sense.

No one knew about this blunder except my director, of course. Even Elysha, who had heard me run the show the day before, did not notice, but it’s decidedly less fun to perform a show when a certain amount of your bandwidth is thinking ahead, rebuilding and repairing the structure of the show as you perform.

I mention a former student, Alexis, by name in the show, and she happened to attend the second-night performance.

A wonderful and lovely surprise for me.

When I mentioned her name during the performance, some audience members began pointing to her, but I saw nothing. When you’re performing on a stage under those conditions, you often can’t see the audience because of the amount of light shining in your eyes.

To emphasize the point, I brought my director and production manager onstage before the show to let them experience the stage under show conditions. Both were astonished by how bright the lights can be when performing.

Necessary for a well-lit show, but difficult for some people to manage.

Alexis wasn’t the only former student to attend the show. Several former students, now teenagers and grown-ups, came to my show. Another former student from my school, whom I knew well, also worked with the film team to help record the show.

Small damn world. Pretty glorious, too.

The show changed a bit from the first night to the second. In addition to keeping things in their proper order on the second night, I worked hard after the first performance to change and punch up jokes, add lines to help enhance and clarify things, and rearrange blocking. Because the show isn’t actually written on paper but is contained entirely in my brain, the changes only needed to be made in my mind. This makes tweaking the show easy because I don’t have anything actually memorized word for word, so I’m also able to improvise new material onstage, which I do often as well.

Of course, when someone asks me if I could make a script available online (which one person did after last night’s show), I have to tell them there is no script, which they find ridiculous and confounding.

Still, I missed one line in the show — a good one — both nights. It comes near the end of the show, and by then, I am so emotional that the line keeps escaping me.

I hope to actually speak those words onstage someday.

My team—David Golder, my director, and Kaia Pazdfersky, my production manager—immediately went to work the next day to research additional opportunities to perform the show, including festivals and larger theaters in New York. While I was teaching fifth graders to divide fractions, they were working hard, unbeknownst to me, trying to find new opportunities to perform the show.

I was overwhelmed with appreciation and excited about the possible opportunities. Shows like this are a funny thing:

You work for months creating something for an audience, and then, when it’s done, you wonder if you’ll ever perform that show again. Your friends and fans who couldn’t get tickets to the two performances because we sold out both shows might never see something that you would want them to see.

Two years ago, I performed three nights of “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” at ThearerWorks and took it to two other regional theaters, but since then, that show remains only in my mind.

I love that show and would love to perform it again someday,

I love Shovel just as much — maybe more — and would also love to perform it again.

Hopefully, I’m going to find an opportunity to do so.

Both shows require almost nothing in terms of set or staging, so other than two or three props, I’m ready to go. This makes it easy for me to fit it into any theater’s schedule.

I hired a film team to record the show, and Kaia will be editing the footage into something I’m hoping to be proud to share with the world. This will be fine, but it won’t be the same as performing live for an audience.

Not even close.

Thanks to everyone who filled the theater on both nights of the show. I couldn’t be more thankful for your kindness and your spirit.

Three thoughts from the first night of “Shovel”

Last night I performed my new solo show, Shovel, at TheaterWorks in Hartford.

My second solo show after performing “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” two years ago.

It was a dream come true again for me, which is truly a glorious thing.

Three thoughts I’ve had over the last 48 hours of prep and performance:

Thought #1:

On Sunday morning, as my friends drove away from the golf course for a relaxing Sunday with their families, I drove home to work on my show, cutting, refining, revising, punching up jokes, and running through the show for time and transitions. As I was doing so, I had a thought:

Why do you do this to yourself?

It wasn’t that I was nervous. I’ve never been nervous before or during a performance,

It was simply that for the last month or two, this show has been sitting in my brain, occupying thought and bandwidth. Instead of writing a book or watching a television show or playing golf, I’ve spent time preparing a performance, and as I was grinding away on Sunday, I thought:

Some people are having a lovely Sunday right now. Some people are not consumed with the punchiness of a joke, the smoothing of a transition, or the honing of a scene.

Why do you do this to yourself?

But I also knew why.

While a lazy Sunday sounds lovely, and I enjoy my fair share of them, lazy Sundays are also forgettable. They are a dime a dozen. They are enjoyed and reveled in but quickly lost to time.

The act of creation is hard. It’s making something from nothing:

Pushing against inaction, uncertainty, and mundanity to make a thing that did not formerly exist. It’s hard. It’s time-consuming. It’s demanding.

But when the lights went dark last night and I took my place onstage, ready to perform, it was well worth it.

Why do you do this to yourself?

Because you’ll always be thrilled to be doing it and happy to have done it, even if the journey can sometimes be excruciating.

Thought #2:

Chase your dream, people.

I dreamed of performing a solo show, and as soon as I knew what the show would be, I took action. I wanted to perform on a stage in a professional theater, and Hartford had two options that immediately came to mind:

Hartford Stage and TheaterWorks. Both are places where Elysha and I have seen many performances.

The Bushnell and Belding would’ve been lovely, too, but given that they seat 3,700 and 1,000 people, respectively, I thought that filling either would be impossible.

But I never in a million years thought that Hartford Stage or TheaterWorks would say yes, but I decided to start with my first two options and work my way down.

Hartford Stage passed, but TheaterWorks remarkably, unbelievably said yes, and two years ago, “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” was born.

Two years later, when the idea for a new solo show coalesced in my mind, I called on TheaterWorks again, and once again, remarkably, they said, “Yes.”

Whatever your dream happens to be, don’t be afraid to dream big, push open doors, and find your place. Whether you’re growing a flower garden, learning to play the piano, writing a novel, playing pickleball, or starting a business, move fast, be daring, and don’t delay.

There is a version of me who didn’t send that email to ThearWorks four years ago. A version of me who didn’t think he was ready, worried about being rejected, and maybe even suffered from impostor syndrome.

Those versions of ourselves are not helpful. They do not serve us well. They are traitorous to our dreams.

Extinguish their versions of yourself and move forward with courage and purpose, even if the chances seem nonexistent.

Thought #3

One of my favorite parts of performing my show last night was Charlie and Clara’s presence in the audience.

My hope is that moments like last night remain in my children’s hearts and minds forever. When I do big, daring, grand things, I hope my children remember the night they watched their father perform to a sold-out audience and that it makes their dreams feel possible.

Telling your children to chase their dreams is a good thing.

Showing them how to do it is so much better.

Not a story

When it comes to storytelling, I work with people and companies in many ways.

Sometimes, oddly and unexpectedly, I work with clients on images, digital assets, and signage. This is odd and unexpected because I have a weak visual memory and struggle to distinguish excellent design from poor design.

But I can tell you if your image is telling the right story.

This sign, which I saw yesterday, is one that I would declare a mess.

It tells no story. It’s actually worse than that:

It confuses me.

The name of this rehab facility is ivy — with a lower-case i.

Why a lower-case i?

I have no idea, but it doesn’t strike me as a good choice. It looks odd in print, and the computer is constantly trying to autocorrect to an uppercase I.

Even the ghost in the machine thinks it’s a bad idea.

But that’s not my biggest complaint about these three letters.

Given its name, the business appears to be incorporating the idea of ivy in a vegetative sense into the design.

But how does this connect to the rehab facility?

Do they make use of nature as part of their therapy?
Are the owners or operators environmentally conscious?
Do they also sell pergolas and lawn seed?

Or did the designers make the words green and plant-like just because of the word ivy?

If it’s the latter, and I suspect it is, that is not a story. It’s simply a matchy-matchy situation.

“Hey, the name is ivy — with a weird lower-case i — so let’s make it look like ivy, even though ivy has nothing to do with our business.”

Not a story.

Then comes the word “rehab,” which doesn’t seem to align with “ivy” in any stylistic sense, except it’s also lower-case and there’s no space between the two words.

So are they one word or two words — differentiated not by a space but by color?

Underneath this concoction of words and design are the words “Physical Therapy,” which feel like they were added because “ivyrehab” wasn’t clear enough.

So “Physical Therapy” is either repetitive or clarifying, depending on what you already know about the place, but neither reason is a good one for these words.

Then, to top it off, is the block with “HSS,” which if you look it up, could mean Hospital for Special Surgery, Health Service System (which would still be a mystery to me), Health Support Service (still a mystery), or Humbucker-Single-Single, which is a particular way to play an electric guitar.

So probably not that.

But except for that guitar reference, I have no idea what this acronym stands for or what the options these letters could stand for even mean.

So this is a mess.

Not a story.

Just a confusing jumble of ideas and mysteries that say nothing about the services being offered inside.

I’m sure that ivyrehab is a wonderful rehab/garden center/guitar lesson conglomerate, but the sign isn’t helping them at all.

In fact, it’s probably hurting them.

Detritus

As we prepared to leave for a visit to New York City, I stepped outside the house to find a banana peel and a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on the front steps.

I attribute this lunacy to the presence of a twelve-year-old boy in my home, but I have to wonder:

Was I really doing such ridiculous things when I was his age?

It’s hard to imagine so, but perhaps memory is both selective and convenient.

The power of math

Car seats are not required on planes because doing so would reduce the number of available seats, which would raise fares and cause more families to drive.

Rather than keeping your baby on your lap, you would need to strap the child into a seat beside you, which would raise your travel costs and overall fares.

Economists did the math:

For every child whose life might potentially be saved by being strapped into a car seat on an airplane, another 60 children would die in car accidents from opting to drive instead of flying because of costs.

Kind of amazing.

Math saves lives.

Resolution update: April 2025

Every month, I record my progress on my yearly goals to hold myself accountable and occasionally seek help and advice from readers willing to offer insight, ideas, and solutions.

Here are my results from April.

PERSONAL FITNESS/ATHLETICS

1. Don’t die.

I had a new tube put into my ear, but it wasn’t life-threatening.

It hurt like hell.

2. Lose 10 pounds.

Lost one pound in April. A total of four pounds down so far.

3. Do a targeted push-up workout at least four times per week. 

Done.

4. Complete 100 sit-ups four times per week. 

Done.

5. Complete three one-minute planks four times a week.

Done.

6. Cycle for at least five days every week. 

I completed 21 rides in April. A total of 101 rides so far this year.

April was a bit light on rides due to travel, but I managed to fit in at least five rides every week.

7. Try at least three new vegetables I have never eaten before or do not like. 

No progress.

8. Get a DEXA Scan and VO2 Max test at least once in 2025.

Local facility identified. The appointment will likely happen in the summer.

9. Lower my handicap to 19.9. 

I played my first round of golf of the season. I shot a 48 on very aerated greens (probably cost me 3-4 strokes) and made a six-foot putt to win the match.

Good start.

WRITING CAREER

10. Complete my eighth novel.

Work continues.

11. Write, edit, and revise my golf memoir.

No progress.

12. Write my “Advice for Kids” book.

Solid progress. Nearly complete.

13. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist.

No progress.

14. Write about my childhood in partnership with my sister, Kelli, at least once per month. 

No progress.

15. Write a new solo show.

Nearly complete. Finishing touches are being put on the show.

16. Submit at least three Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.

No progress.

17. Write at least four letters to my father.

I sent my father a birthday card in March.

One letter so far this year.

18. Write 150 letters.

A total of 10 letters were written in April to neighbors, students, a colleague, parents of students, and a court clerk in Barnstable, MA, who found my 32 year old court records in “the basement vault,” thus moving me one step closer to being awarded with Global Reentry by the US State Department.

A total of 80 letters have been written in 2025 so far.

19. Write to at least six authors about a book I love. 

No progress.

STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER

20. Launch a new Homework for Life app.

The app is currently in beta form and is being tested by users, including me.

21. Record and publish at least 25 videos to my YouTube channel.

Four videos were posted in April. A total of 11 videos have been posted so far in 2025.

Thanks to my production manager, my YouTube channel is really taking off.

Subscribe here.

22. Perform a new solo show.

Dates have been locked in: May 4 and 5 at TheaterWorks in Hartford.

The shows are nearly sold out.

Purchase tickets here.

23. Revise my free Storyworthy Academy.  

Done. Thanks primarily to the work of my partner and production manager, we have an outstanding free academy for anyone who wants to learn more about storytelling.

Check it out at storyworthy.com.

24. Record and produce at least three new Storyworthy courses.

Courses have been determined. Recording begins soon.

25. Produce a total of six Speak Up storytelling events in 2025.

No shows were produced in April.

We have upcoming shows scheduled on May 10 and June 7.

We have produced two shows in 2025:

January 11 at the Connecticut Museum for History and Culture.February 7 at District in New Haven.

26. Submit pitches to at least three upcoming TEDx events, hoping to be accepted by one.

No progress.

27. Attend at least eight Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

I attended one Moth StorySLAM in April.

A total of four Moth events in 2025.

28. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.

Done! I won my 62nd Moth StorySLAM in March.

29. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

No Moth GrandSLAM opportunities yet.

30. Pitch “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” or my new show to six theaters in 2025. 

No progress.

31. Produce at least 24 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.

No progress.

32. Perform stand-up at least six times. 

No progress in April.

I’ve performed stand-up once in 2025.

33. Pitch three stories to This American Life.

No progress.

34. Submit at least three pitches to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast.

No progress.

35. Send a newsletter to readers at least 50 times. 

Five newsletters were sent in April.

I’ve sent 26 newsletters in 2025.

HOME

36. Organize the basement.

A smidgen of progress. Some additional items have been thrown away. I’m going to need Elysha’s assistance to complete this project.

36. Clear the garage of unwanted items.

Done! The garage is officially clean, and all unwanted items are now gone.

37. Replace our backyard shed.

A new shed has been purchased. Permits are being acquired now. Arrival time is 6-8 weeks.

38. Get the hardwood floors refinished.

The work is scheduled to be completed in June.

FAMILY/FRIENDS

39. Travel to Europe.

Waiting on possible speaking tour dates to Australia, Germany, and Saudi Arabia before we finalize European dates.

40. Text or call my brother or sister once per month. 

Done.

41. Bring my brother, sister, and me together at least twice in 2025.

No progress.

42. Take at least one photo of my children every day.

Except for days when I was away and unable to take the photograph, done.

43. Take at least one photo with Elysha and me each week.

I only took two photos with Elysha and me in April.

44. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

No progress.

45. I will not comment positively or negatively on the physical appearance of anyone except my wife and children to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.

Done.

46. Surprise Elysha at least 12 times.

I sent flowers to Elysha and her students on the first day of state testing.

I’ve surprised Elysha four times in 2025:

A surprise birthday party on January 4Post Valentine’s Day flowersClever and amusing office suppliesFlowers on the first day of testing

47. Play poker at least six times.

I played poker twice with Charlie in 2025 — both times using a video poker game on a plane.

I’ve also found a way to play poker online again, if I choose to, though a live game is what I really want.

Two games of poker in 2025.

48. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.

No progress.

MUSIC

49. Memorize the lyrics to at least five favorite songs. 

No progress.

50. Practice the flute at least four times per week.

No progress.

MISCELLANEOUS PROJECTS

51. Host at least three dinner parties where I cook.

No progress.

52. Develop a course on self-confidence. 

Progress continues. Strategies are being collected, an instructional outline is being developed, and I’m interviewing people for thoughts and ideas.

53. Develop a list of strategies to help people deal with loneliness and produce it in some form.

I’ve started writing a book on the subject, based on the list of strategies I’m developing.

This was a surprise to me and my literary agent. Instead of writing the full book, I’ll be writing a proposal for the book.

54. Read at least 12 books.

I read one book in April:

”Factfulness” by Hans Rosling

I’m currently reading:

“Fight” by Jonahthan Allen and Amie Parnes

I’ve read 8 books thus far in 2025:

“Unreasonable Hospitality” by Will Guidara
“Schtick to Business” by Pete McGraw
”The Humor Code” by Pete McGraw
“Catching the Big Fish” by David Lynch
“Simply Said” by Jay Sullivan
”Miracle and Wonder” by Bruce Headlam and Malcolm Gladwell
“Revenge of the Tipping Point” by Malcolm Gladwell
”Factfulness” by Hans Rosling

55. Finish reading TIME’s 100 Best Children’s Books of All Time. 

No progress in April.

I’ve read five additional books in 2025, bringing my total to 44 total books read off the list.

56. Edit our wedding footage into a movie of the day.

No progress. 

57. Digitize a pile of DVDs that contain dance recitals, plays, and other assorted moments from the past.

The material was sent out for digitization. I await its return.

58. Memorize three new poems.

Done!

I memorized “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer in April

I’ve memorized the following poems in 2025 thus far:

“This is Just to Say” by William Carlos Williams
“Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost
“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer

59. Post my progress regarding these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.

Done.

Walking speed

Walking speed on the streets of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia has increased 15% since 1979.

This makes me very happy.

I believe in stopping to smell the roses. Admiring the world around us. Noticing the big and little things.

But I also believe in making the most of my time. Accelerating the pace to increase health benefits. Moving past the boring places to get to the good place.

I see people move through the aisles in the grocery store like it’s the place to be.

I see people walking down a street in New York, acting like the exteriors of Starbucks, Chase Bank, and Le Pain Quotidien are worthy of their time and attention.

If the space you’re moving through is worth the time, then spend the time.

But if you’re moving slowly through mundanity and homogeneity, you’re making a mistake.

Get to the good stuff by moving quickly through the not-so-good stuff.