In the ever growing perfect world projected via social media, I find myself increasingly fascinated with the mundane. In the land of influencers pushing a perfect and unattainable lifestyle for most people, I ache for bland.

I find myself growing bored with the portrayal of a perfect life. What was once something to strive for, has become banal. What was once banal, is something to strive for. 

There is elegance everywhere. What some may consider hideous, I find beautiful. What some consider commonplace, I find interesting. When you pull back the curtain and there is nothing left to hide behind, the drab becomes magnificent. 

The endless projection of perfection is the manifestation of a life not being lived. Showing the chink in one's armor is evidence of a life being lived.  

Embrace the abnormal. Look for the drab. Live.  

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Being at the cottage is huge in Canada. It's the place to let go of everything that has been weighing you down, have a bit of fun and unwind from the stress of daily life. 

Baroness von Sketch Show (great show BTW) did a sketch that sums up the experience rather nicely. 

During the weekdays if I'm not fighting swimmers itch and the lake is calm, I grab a camera, jump in the kayak and go for a paddle around the lakes. The lakes are quieter during the weekdays as most people head back to the city Sunday night.

It's the time for me to just be. No set agenda. No pressures. Just me and nature—which is always trying to kill me.

Spending time at the cottage makes you live life in the slow lane. You slow down and marvel at what is in front of you and realize, the world is going to be alright. 

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There is a tree along side the road I stop and spend time with every time I am out for a walk. It stands there amongst hundreds of others, but it is the only one I notice. It's different. It stands taller than the surrounding trees. It has no leaves. It never buds and it's bark is all but gone. 

Is it dead?

To most people it may be. To me it is a vibrant reminder of a life well lived. Although it may no longer provide shade and is no longer growing—it still stands strong. It forces me to look at it. To observe the beauty it radiates. 

When I stop to spend time with this tree I always ask myself, when do we truly die? 

The answer is always, when we are forgotten. 

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I recently made a trip back to my hometown of Muskegon Michigan for my niece's wedding. I have been back many times to visit family, but I never really spent time exploring the city I left behind. During this trip I had some extra time, so I thought I'd spend my mornings revisiting some of the places I frequented as a kid and my afternoons enjoying the family cottage.

A little background. To me, Muskegon has always tried to be something it wasn't. It seemed to have an identity challenge. I always saw it as a blue-collar-hard-working-foundry-town that wanted to be a hip beach town when I was growing up. I never really felt at home in Muskegon. It was just the place I grew up. Don't get me wrong, Muskegon has beautiful beaches to enjoy in the summer and a butt load of winter activities to enjoy during the colder months. It just wasn't a place for me. 

I have been hearing about all the recent changes taking place in Muskegon to make it more attractive to visitors and the likes, but I wanted to see it for myself. 

During my time in Muskegon I was pleasantly surprised at the change taking place. It was like everything they ever wanted to create in Muskegon over the past 50 years was finally coming to fruition. A farmers market, breweries, a distillery, little shops and apartments now make up the city core that was once abandoned. 

Is it the town it always wanted to be? I don't think so, but it's well on its way.

To those involved with changing the face of Muskegon, I salute you. I enjoyed my time in your city and found it to be a very pleasant place to visit.

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