This morning caught me off guard. Nothing earth-shattering happened—no revelation from the sky or cosmic event. But something lined up just right, and it reminded me that sometimes, the little things can knock you flat in the best possible way.

I got up, had my coffee, and got ready to run a couple errands. One of the upsides of where I’m living now is that it’s a hell of a lot easier for me to do what I need to do in my wheelchair. So I loaded up and rolled out.

And you know me—there’s no such thing as going anywhere without music. I’m a full-blown music junkie. If I’m going for a ride, I need a soundtrack. About a year ago, I dropped a stupid amount of money on a pair of Shure Aonic 40 headphones. We’re talking a year and a half of research before I pulled the trigger. Every review I read said they were top-tier—great sound, stupid-long battery life, and built to last. And sure, newer models exist now, but the 40s had what I needed.

Back then, I didn’t really have a lot of reason to take them outside. So they became my at-home headphones—Zoom calls, background music, maybe pacing around the house. They were fine. Good, even. But I never really pushed them. I’d use them, top them off obsessively, and eventually they just got shelved. Back in their case. Out of sight.

Fast-forward to now. New environment. New life. New city. And I’ve actually got room to move again. The other day, I threw those headphones on and went for a run. Not literally, but if motorcycle clubs can call it a run, so can I—my wheelchair is my ride. I didn’t check the battery. Just hit play, rolled out, came home, and set them aside.

Then came this morning.

I picked them up, tossed them on as I headed out the door, and boom: 4% battery. Shit. I figured I’d get maybe a block before they cut out, but a little music is better than none.

I queued up what I wanted to hear—yes, an actual CD, calm down, Siri—and hit the pavement. They gave me one battery warning. Then another. But the music kept playing. I rolled up to the bank, hit the Time Machine (because yeah, I’m from the Midwest, and it’ll always be a Time Machine), took care of business, and the sound just kept going.

I made it all the way home. Rolled inside. Set the headphones on the charger. And they were still running.

Goddamn quality product.

The Soundtrack to Reinvention

Now, let’s talk about what I was listening to.

Back in 2012, when I was going through one of the first major resets in my adult life, Adrenaline Mob’s debut album Omertà became the soundtrack. Massive props to Matt Mo for putting that album in my path. I don’t even know if he realizes how much it stuck with me.

And this morning, without thinking, I went right back to that record. I’m 47 now. Single. Starting over again. And what album do I reach for? Omertà. Same one.

There’s something in that record that just hits harder during moments like this. It’s about life-changing decisions, burning bridges, reflecting on the wreckage, and figuring out what comes next. It’s about facing yourself. Your past. Your patterns. And your future.

And it’s not just “heavy for the sake of heavy.” It’s raw. It’s personal. It’s real. If you’re going through something—anything—I can’t recommend it enough. Find a quiet moment. Or a loud one. Plug in. Let it wreck you and build you up at the same time.

The Thing You Don’t Really Talk About

There’s also this other layer—something you kind of forget about when you’re in a relationship. Or more accurately, something you should forget about when the relationship is healthy.

But now that I’m single again? It’s back on the radar.

Look, we’ve talked a lot in recent posts about how Florida is a mess when it comes to accessibility. Services suck. Independence is an uphill battle. Bureaucracy rules everything. But let’s be honest about one thing:

Florida has some absolutely gorgeous eye candy.

Like, damn.

You roll down a sidewalk, pass a park, cruise near the beach—doesn’t matter. You start to notice things again. And no, it doesn’t mean I’m turning into some creep on wheels. It just means I’m human. And after years of focusing on someone else, it’s kind of wild to catch yourself noticing again. It’s not the reason I’m getting back on track—but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t provide a little bit of fuel.

There’s still beauty out there. Even in the middle of a total reset.

All This to Say…

I didn’t expect this morning to hit me the way it did. But sometimes life throws you a small, perfect moment: the right headphones, the right song, the right kind of sunlight. And it sticks with you all damn day.

That’s what happened. And I’m still riding that feeling.