Barefoot, Black Tees, and the Art of Feeling Grounded

Oct 23, 2025

There are two types of people in this world: those who wear shoes indoors, and those of us who would rather feel the floor with our actual feet—even if it gets us side-eyed at work and called out by our daughters.

I’ve always hated socks. Shoes too, most of the time. There’s something about having my feet uncovered—direct contact with the earth (or office carpet, whatever)—that helps my brain settle down. It’s not just comfort. It’s grounding, in the most literal and energetic sense.

Yes, I was the barefoot guy at the office. Yes, people noticed. And yes, I still do it. My daughters still give me crap about it to this day.

But I’ve come to realize: being barefoot, wearing the same black v-neck tee every day, living in shorts—it’s all part of the same bigger thing. A lifestyle that’s about reducing friction, staying comfortable in my own skin, and tuning into the world just enough to stay present without getting overwhelmed.

The Barefoot Years (and the Flip-Flop Threshold)

Back in the agency days, we had a pretty relaxed office culture. But still—walking around barefoot in a workspace wasn’t exactly "normal." And yeah, I got called out for it more than once. But I couldn’t help it. Shoes just felt wrong most of the time. Hot, tight, noisy. Socks? Even worse.

Going barefoot didn’t just feel better physically—it gave me a sense of calm. Stability. My mind—usually sprinting through a thousand browser tabs worth of thoughts—slowed down a little. That contact with the ground brought me back into my body, like a soft reboot.

And when I did wear shoes? It was flip-flops. Always. I’d wear them until there was snow on the ground—and even then, if it wasn’t more than an inch and looked like it’d melt by lunch, I’d still wear them. Flip-flops were the default setting. Nothing else made sense.

So yeah, moving to California—and now Texas—was amazing for that reason alone. Nearly 365 days a year of flip-flop weather? Heaven. No more negotiating with winter slush or pretending to tolerate boots. Just open-air feet and sensory freedom.

Uniform of the Day: Shorts and Black Tees

Somewhere along the line, I stopped caring about picking outfits. Not out of apathy—but because choosing what to wear every morning felt like yet another decision I didn’t have room for in my brain.

So I did the only logical thing: I bought twelve of the same black cotton v-neck t-shirts. Boom. Done. Uniform locked in.

Pair that with my trusty shorts—not shorty shorts, let’s be clear, just the kind with room to move and plenty of pockets—and I had everything I needed: function, comfort, and zero thought wasted on clothes.

People joked, sure. But here’s the thing: less decision-making = more creative bandwidth. The fewer micro-choices I had to make in a day, the more energy I had for actually building stuff, solving problems, and keeping small humans alive.

Also… I just really love those shirts. Soft, breathable, simple. I still have a few that have survived years of washes and chaos. They’ve basically become emotional support garments at this point.

And for the record—huge shoutout to my go-to: American Giant black v-neck tees, plus my three black hoodies.
They’re the official supplier of the Mike Burns Uniform. No sponsorship (yet), just irrationally loyal appreciation for gear that feels right, holds up, and doesn’t try to be anything it’s not.

Natural Fibers, Energy, and a Weird Conversation with Jeff

I remember talking to my old business partner Jeff one day—we somehow got into this deep tangent about natural materials and vibration. He was convinced there’s something about natural fibers—cotton, linen, even wool—that feels better not just physically, but energetically.

And you know what? He might be right.

I’ve always gravitated toward cotton over synthetics. It’s not just that it’s softer—it feels more alive. Like my skin can breathe. Like I’m not wearing a plastic bag. I’ve never done a double-blind study on t-shirt vibes, but I do know that when I’m wearing natural materials, I feel more… me.

It might be hippy nonsense. Or maybe there’s some subtle sensory intelligence we don’t have language for yet. Either way, it works.

ADHD, Sensory Comfort, and Dressing for Sanity

The longer I’ve lived with ADHD, the more I’ve realized how critical sensory comfort is. Too-tight collars, itchy seams, restrictive pants—these things aren’t minor annoyances. They’re daily stressors. Constant background noise that wears you down over time.

So I cut all that out.

I dress for regulation now. For ease. For comfort. Call it minimalist, call it lazy, call it whatever—but I’m no longer interested in performing “normal” if it means being uncomfortable all day.

Restrictive pants? Hard pass.
(Well… other than my 80s rocker phase. Black jeans so tight you had to lie down to zip them up. Different era. Different nervous system. Different me.)

My barefoot habit and black-tee uniform are just the most visible signs of this. But the idea runs deeper: eliminate friction where you can, so you have the capacity to deal with the chaos you can’t control.

My Daughters Still Make Fun of Me

It’s kind of a family tradition at this point. They’ll see me pacing around barefoot in the house or working in my backyard office with no shoes on and just shake their heads.

“Dad, seriously—your feet are disgusting. Hide them.”

Look, I never claimed to be a foot model. To be fair, foot-shaming isn’t nice, and I do keep them clean. Nails trimmed. No koala bear claws. Just your standard “dad feet,” doing their best to exist in a world full of judgment and tile flooring.

They laugh, they tease, but deep down I think they get it. Or they will one day.

Why It All Matters

You can write this off as quirkiness or old-man comfort mode. But to me, it’s more than that.

It’s about choosing how I want to feel.

I want to feel grounded. Comfortable. Calm. I want fewer decisions and more presence. I want my clothes and routines to support my nervous system, not overload it.

Whether it’s through bare feet on the floor, a black cotton t-shirt, or shorts that never ask too much of me… I’m designing a life that feels like mine.

And in a world that often tells us to “tough it out” or “be more normal,” doing what makes your body and brain feel right? That’s quietly revolutionary.

TL;DR:

I don’t like socks. I wear the same shirt every day. My feet are often bare.
And honestly?
I’ve never felt more like myself.

Coming Soon (Maybe):

“The Science of Grounding and ADHD: Why Barefoot Works”
“Why Uniform Dressing Isn’t Lazy—It’s Genius”
“Textile Vibes and the Strange Power of Natural Materials”
“Shorts Are a Lifestyle, Not a Phase”