I’m no choir boy. I’ve kicked up my share of dust and had my share of fun, but I’m no derelict either. I’ve worked since I was about 10, starting out helping in my dad’s business. I’ve worked hard physical labor, delivered pizza, taught classes, written books, sold cars, and busted my ass to eke out a meager existence. None of it has been easy, and more times than I can count, I’ve thought about giving up and becoming a vagabond. But that’s not who I am. In my heart, I’m a warrior, and I’ll fight until my last breath to achieve my goals. There may be stronger, smarter, better-looking, more successful men than I am, but there aren’t many who are tougher. I’m not saying that to brag, just stating a fact about myself.
Last semester, I pushed myself through some of the hardest moments of my life and am proud that the only days I missed at work were those when I had doctors’ appointments. Once, I delivered pizza for a couple of weeks with a pulled calf muscle. Each step sent blinding pain up my leg, but my children needed a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, so I ignored the discomfort. I also took an 8 pound iron ball to the head and lived to tell about it. There are tougher men than I am, but it’s a small measure.
I’m no choir boy. I’ve done my share of living, but when I’ve given myself to a woman, I’ve not broken my word. There aren’t many men who can honestly say that. There aren’t many women either. If I commit to a relationship, I’m with that person and no one else. Again, I’m not bragging, just stating a simple truth of myself. When I’m single, I’ve broken a few hearts, but I don’t lie or lead anyone on, never offering more than I can live up to. I’m always honest about what I can and cannot give. At this point in my life, I don’t know if I’ll ever love again. Only time can answer that. Right now, I just want to heal and focus on my goals.
This place I live in is nothing to brag about. It’s old and dilapidated with few modern luxuries. The materialistic people in this world would turn their noses up at it and shun me as a bum, but it’s my little corner in this world and brings me peace. I can live without the comforts for that. I wrote most of Dorkhun in this broken-down motor home and will complete book four here, too. My life may not have the shiny facade most people try to build to show the world how great they are, but I’ve never really given a damn about the facade. I’m content with myself as a human being, and that’s enough for me. That’s not to say I don’t have lessons to learn and maturity to gain because I do, but at my core, I’m decent and can live with that.
I’ve learned to define success on my own terms. I’ll probably never be wealthy, the toast of the town, or a rock star, but those aren’t my goals. They may have been when I was young and immature, but now, I define my success by the quality of what I do. Every time a reader tells me they enjoyed one of my books, I’ve succeeded. Every time a student thanks me for giving them a solid foundation, I’ve succeeded. When I leave this earth, I’ll have left a mark, maybe not a huge mark, but a somewhat positive one. I may not be prince charming or a knight in shining armor or nice little choir boy, but I’m D.A. Adams, father, writer, educator, and friend. That’s enough for me.