OK jobs

I've always been wary of "OK" jobs.  You know, the ones that are good enough to keep you there but not good enough to ever keep you happy.  Yet I worry I am only an OK worker.  I have too much of an entrepreneurial spirit to be a great employee and I need too much support to be a successful entrepreneur. 

If That Only Worked

It's funny that watching a movie about a writer can make you want to write.  If that only worked with eating healthily and exercising; then watching movies would be one of the healthiest things we could do with our time. 

I haven't been home alone since Christmas

It's weird living with a lot people.  I don't think I have been home alone since Christmas.  Sometimes the conversations are forced superficial niceties brought upon merely by our proximity.  Other conversations take you by surprise, though.  One minute you're emptying the dishwasher, and an hour later you're still holding a stack of plates, but you've happened upon some happenstance heart to heart of substance.  The weirdest part about these unplanned meaningful moments is realizing, as fulfilling as it has been to hold these plates for an extra hour, it's time to put them down.  "we'll okay then, good talk, see you around".  Why yes, person whose room is right next to mine, you most likely will.

Glory Worry

I hate it when someone puts words in my mouth, "oh I remember when you said "this" the other day".  Really?  I don't.  Don't worry me with false glory.

Oscar Wilde Quotes

A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

People fashion their God after their own understanding. They make their God first and worship him afterwards.

There is only one thing in the world that is worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

I am not young enough to know everything. 

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

Only the shallow know themselves.   

All art is quite useless.  

Reflective Dreamer

My subconscious ambitions
talk a big game
and think big thoughts
but really I know-
My passion will rot.

I'm accepting of simplicity
who typically brings his friend mediocrity.

After me-
they'll never name a city.

That's OK.

Even if I'm never great,
I still wont require pity.
It really wont be a shame,
for shams are only unseen
and unsettling.
But as long as I've got you,
the way I see it,
My baseline is beyond leveling.

Sure it would be great,
being famous and/or rich,
but I know this life's a funny thing,
to no matter what you amount-
to the ditch we all surely dismount.

Even the most seemingly most wondrous of us,
at the end of the game aren't any different than us.

Maybe my Mona Lisa
is friday nights on the couch
with you eating pizza.
Or maybe my King James
will be playing baby games.

It's all the same
inside my mind-
 Maybe some day I'll tell me,
if I ever get done testing time.

Water Over a Troubled Bridge

Enthusiasm

So I have been thinking about the qualities of leadership lately, particularly the relation between energy and enthusiasm.  I had actually never considered the difference between these two qualities.  I have energy, but that doesn't mean I have enthusiasm.. they're very different things.  You've got to have one to have the other but can't have the other with out the first one.  Enthusiasm is like energy spiked with passion.  We've got to identify our own passion drug and spike our energies daily.  Otherwise, our revolutions will be revolt-less, our charisma will lack influence, and before we know it we'll be lying down for the last time with no over time, and time wont have time for any swan song enthusiasm left overs.  Who wants left overs for their last meal, anyways.

words were be

Age, maturity, standards, reference points, values, moral, meaning, fulfillment, choice, priorities.  The words that ring through my head today are sure different than they once were as I can only imagine as they will someday be.

What am I doing, really

What am I doing?
Really?
Drinking coffee, working.  Working?  Really?
It's a shame that sometimes it has to not feel right in order for it to feel right sometimes.
If it always felt right, it just wouldn't feel right.
It's the predicament sentiment sentence of this life.
Really.
Life's a wave.
Ride it.
Riding.
Really.

Selling Is

"Selling is shared enthusiasm."

-Dan Miller

Easy Glory

I like it when someone says something I said long ago, and it sounds good.  I don't remember saying it, but I get the credit. 

Hmm of the day

The more I intentionally indulge fantasy, the easier it is for me to live in reality. 

Turtle Power.

To win, as you know-
lies in the power to be steady and slow.
And the power to win, often lies in,
not where you go, but the places you don't.

You win the race by stopping; by not racing.
Racing is for the birds.
We are turtles, we have shells,
and we are slow, yet we know the way to go.

It may take us a while,
well that's alright;
an elephant may never forget,
but a turtles always right.

Don't look to us for answers,
without patience in your eyes,
cause we only ever find them,
when your ready to least realize.

We don't shoot the breeze
or dodge falling trees,
and we couldn't kill a bee,
but as soon as you stop watching me-

finally you will see.

A turtles always right,
there's a power in their wrong,
it may seem a while long,
yet their shell stays still strong.

Get dressed, it's time to change the world

I have a magical tooth brush that girates rapidly upon the pushing of a button.  120 seconds it girates for.  AKA eternity.  I have been trying to increase my tooth brushing patience over the last year, but I still daily turn the water on by the 90 second mark, the build up of paste in my mouth tells me "ive had enough!", oh wait, 30 more seconds.  I suppose I can turn the water back off.  It's still an annoying unnatural thing for me, to brush my teeth for 120 seconds 2 times a day, but I find I feel better about myself when I do.  I find I feel better in general when I do a number of little things, when I:

Make my bed in the morning.
Pick up after my self (putting dirty clothes in the hamper, putting dishes in the dishwasher, not leaving dirty dishes in my room is a big one).
Keeping my desk organized (reasonably).
Keeping my desktop organized (reasonably).
Waking up at a specific time.
Getting out of bed.
Getting dressed (I've had days where I stayed in my pajamas for hours and I really don't think it's a moral booster).
Starting my day on paper.  If it looks good on paper, then I'll probably feel good about it at the end of the day.  Once I've written out my to do list for the day and prioritized it, then all I have to do is what the paper says.

I feel like most of these little things have to do with appearance, keeping things clear and structured.  I've always thought a clean space makes for a clear mind.  And with a clear mind we can focus, and focus is what changes the world.  So get dressed already, it's time to change the world.

Wink

While checking out at the grocery store today, the checker responded to my "how's it going", with, "regular".  Pause.  Which means "pretty good", he adds, as he winks at me.  Slyly.  Jerk.  Smooth young jerk.  He was probably 20% younger than me, and he had the nerve to wink at me.  I've never winked at a stranger in my entire life.  I'm not that brave.  I also don't curl my mustache up on the ends.  Nor do I have a mustache.  His greatest move was the way he actually moved me through the line and emotionally in that 54 second transaction while he rung up my pizza and ice cream, though.  It wasn't the wink, the stache, or the fist bump he gave me on the way out, necessarily.  But some how he made my spirit feel very light by the time I was exiting.  Maybe I don't or wont ever have that exact effect on someone, but I think I have made people happy before, at certain times, and I can always get better.  I hope I get better.  And when I get better the world will get better...  Someday I'll be a graduated sly jerk.  Maybe when I'm 20% older.

something

My performance depends, and that's why it suffers.  It doesn't radiate and bleed.  On my own I do nothing.  I rot.  I perform to rise to the greatest heights limited only by my self.  I must out perform me, again, and again, or else something terrible will happen...


Nothing.

Looking over the lanes

Human-less thus far, my day has been.  I have been up for over 5 hours, and I have not seen one human yet today.  A bizarre occurrence when you live with 6 other people in the city. 

My business has seen its first symptoms of success after seven and a half months.

For the first time in a while, I'm not thinking- what may I need to sell this month.

I like that feeling, and the relinquishing of that thought. 

I bought a book today.  My business bought a book today.

I sat on this slow computer realizing I have a business that has money, now.

I hope it can endure.  The money I make is determined by what I spend, both financially and mentally.  It has been mostly mental, thus far.  It's weird to have some options; to have my business buy my self a book to teach myself to learn how to better run my business.

I used to always think running a business would be common sense.  I also used to run track, where running meant circles.  Good exercise isn't always productive. 

I suppose the better of a business "runner" you become, the less you actually run.  Running is time consuming, tiring, and limiting.  A good business has multiple people and systems to do the running.  That's what keeps the business healthy.  Not the business running itself, but the proper entities within the business running the right races in order to run themselves, thus giving the illusion of the business running its self.

I don't necessarily know exactly what my "right race" to run is, yet, but sitting home alone working, in this new found state of breath, I believe I am on the right track.  Just looking over the lanes is all, just looking over the lanes.

Unhappy Gilmore

I spot it from a distance, finally, as I park and choose my weapon.  The end is in sight, but I know I can't make it, so I think damage control.  Too far that way it's lost forever and too far there and it will never stop.  I bend my knees as I clutch the club, bring it back, swing it forward, and skim the grass.  If what they say about practice being perfect, then I should be ready.  I calculate my biased tendencies of being too far to the right so I aim a little left, move forward and place my club right up to the ball where it will make contact upon execution of swing.  I keep my club where it is and move my feet back 2.2 more inches so my butt is pushed up a little awkwardly, the way I was taught, and I push my hands down to keep the club nice and straight to try and have my imperfect form just right.  I bring the pendulum back over my shoulder so I can see the tip of the club in my left eye's peripheral vision and I follow through releasing the swing to make contact with the ball as the pendulum completes itself bringing my swing all the way around.  A chunk of grass flies and the ball doesn't move, again.  I feel the rage of Happy Gilmore and hope that my first day on the coarse isn't my best work to come.

Enough (part-one)

Sometimes I feel I should write simply for the sake of making my mark.  Nothing in particular to say, just some type of expression to drool forth from my being.  In case I die today, there will be something from the end left for my funeral tomorrow.  What did he do last?  Well, he said something, it wasn't much of nothing.  Somehow, though, he acknowledged his being.  I wouldn't necessarily be proud of that, but I wouldn't be ashamed either.  And sometimes, I think that's really the only reason I write.  It's just an excuse to remind me I'm not dead, and to keep loving you the only way I can when I am.

There's a seed in all of us, just below our being- and the things we do, say, and think place us on this spectrum of living.  There are these degrees of flourishing, I feel like, and these degrees of death.  Sometimes the little things are all we need to keep an arm above the water, and make life matter just enough to not not.  So I guess I write these words with no purpose other than to give my self purpose.  It seems a little purposeless, yet it effects the way I breathe.  I normally don't feel like my breathe is vain, but sometimes some things make my breath feel a little less vain, and then I can only wonder... and then I start to think about the speck I am and big things like the idea of God and the fact that I am breathing, I am this breathing being.  And all my purposelessness feels somehow purposeful, in a way that my mystery prays I'll never really understand, and I'll therefore always keep an arm above water, make words with no purpose, breathe a little easier than I know is possible, and never not love you. 

Adjusting to Success

After a season of trench crawling in my life, I suddenly find myself being conscientious of my new found trench free success.  The high is so good after the low, I radiate with thankfulness.  When does this radiation become unhealthy, though?  When does my celebration and thankfulness turn into gloating?  Am I worthy of my joy?  Adjusting to success is a good problem to have.