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Man, man, oh man—where do I even begin? It’s been... checks calendar... since November 18th. That’s a whole month. Holy shit. What happened to all that “I’m doing my best to keep up with this weekly blog” talk? (Picture me rolling my eyes at myself.) But here I am—back at it. No excuses. I’m on my couch after my daughter’s second birthday party. It’s late. Everyone’s asleep except me, and I told myself, “Eric, just write anything. Start this conversation again.” So that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Now, where were we? Anybody remember? Hell, am I even talking to anyone at this point? Whatever. I’m a little high, a couple of bourbons deep, and I’m feeling loose. So, let’s get it.

Nineteen-year-old Eric. Naive. Kind (still am). And ready for whatever. It was around this time that I started to realize I had something different in me. A little lightbulb moment—a hustle, a drive, an instinct for spotting opportunity. A growth spurt, but not the kind you track on the doorframe.

The grind was wild. We’re talking ounces to eighths. Eighths to ounces. Ounces to ounces on ounces. The re-up just got bigger and bigger every time. It was a never-ending relay, and I was always running. No time to hang out too long with friends. No kicking it at the bonfire all night. I had to stay on call—be the guy who always had it. That’s the game. You can't sell something you don’t have. Rule number one. Even when somebody hit me up looking for 5 pounds, I didn’t flinch. I had it. Always.

I made connections. Met more people. Built my network like a spider builds a web—quietly, but with purpose. And like that spider, I knew if I played my position right, everything would come to me. That's how I started learning the deeper rules of the cannabis world—ones they don’t write down.

Navigating the world of cannabis back then wasn’t like it is now. No dispensaries. No QR codes on the bag. It was a darker place—not the plant, but the business side of it. The plant, though? She’s always been the same. Cannabis has always been about community and culture. And that’s what I loved about it. That's what drew me in. But the business? The business was in my blood. It wasn’t just about making money—it was about tapping into creativity, cannabis, and culture all at once. It became this orbit I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) leave.

I’d be lying if I said the partying didn’t pull me in too. Clubs at 20 years old, throwing around a few thousand like a dummy, like I had and it wouldn’t stop. And for a while, I did and didn’t. Flying from city to city just to do it all over again. The glow of the VIP section. The feeling of being that guy for a night. It’s hard not to get caught up.

Looking back, I know I was what we call “redneck rich.” For the uninitiated, that’s when you’ve got money, but no idea how to make it grow into something bigger. I didn’t have anyone pulling me aside to teach me about investments, savings, or flipping my hustle into something long-term. It was all flash, no foundation. I was moving fast, but I wasn’t moving smart. Still, I loved it. I loved every second of it—even the moments where I was flying blind.

Every time you level up in anything, it costs you something. Maybe it’s sleep, maybe it’s trust, maybe it’s friendships—but there’s always a cost. My step-up came when I moved from ounces to pounds. That’s not just a leap in weight; it’s a shift in responsibility, connections, and exposure.

See, ounces are manageable. Ounces stay local. But pounds? Pounds require new people, and with new people come new risks. The first time I stepped outside my comfort zone, it felt like walking on ice. Every move was a little scary.

That’s how I met the country boys.

If you’ve never met backwoods country boys from western Kentucky, let me paint you a picture: Tractors, Walmart’s, Carhartt jackets, muddy boots, and an accent so thick it might as well be a secret code. They weren’t just growers; they were growers. Big operation. Heavy harvests. I didn’t know that at first, though. I got introduced through a middleman—one of my own customers. He mentioned a connect,“He’s got something bigger if you’re looking,” he said.

So, one day we made the trip. Four hours west. Four hours back. Did it again the next week. Same ride. Same route. Same 3 pounds. Just a taste. A small intro to see if we were solid.

After a month of these trips, I got the real plug. The direct line. No middleman. A straight path to the source. The farm. The field. The heart of it all. That’s when it all changed.

You don’t forget moments like that. Standing there on that farm, knowing that you just unlocked the next level. It’s like a video game where you’ve been stuck on the same boss fight for weeks, and suddenly, you find the perfect strategy. Everything just clicks.

That’s where I’ll leave it for now, but remember leveling up comes at a cost. Every step forward comes with risk.

Okay now I know that this blog was double what I said each blog would be, but I had to catch up and keep this journey moving. I promise it won’t be another month for the next one.