Posts in "rebel!" Category — Page 4

rebel!

In praise of analog

Baking bread.
An actual day planner.
That big calendar on the wall.
A tattered notebook full of ideas.
Books. (Novels, cookbooks, reference books, coffee table books…books.)
Walking.
Landines.
Mix tapes.
Film.

There’s something downright magical about indulging in the analog world.

There’s also something rebellious about taking the time-consuming, not-as-productive, not-even-a-little-bit-rushed way.

Taking the time to read a book instead of watching the movie makes time for magic. The gaps between putting the bread in the oven and waiting for the oven to ding make room for dance parties and long conversations. The distance between a roll of film being shot and returning, developed, to its owner is nearly infinite. Anything can happen in the interim.

In a world that’s pushing for more and more faster and faster, I dare you to slow way down and enjoy the process itself.

If you’re writing, grab a notebook.
If you’re shooting, choose a roll of film.
If you’re meeting up, try getting together in person instead of texting.

All the modern marketing methods in the world can’t replace a single hug, given with love, by a fellow human.

If business is flagging or you’re losing enthusiasm or you just can’t figure out what to do next, get yourself out of the house and see some people.

Shake hands.
Laugh.
Drink lattes.
Scribble away.
Eat with your bare hands.
Give it time.

Reconnect with the visceral, not-online, basic ways of being alive in the world. (You’re an animal, after all.)

It’s only by acknowledging our animal nature that we can transcend it.

The more we deny our breath, our hands, our desire for comfort and food and sleep, our need to rest…the less productive we become.

We may get “more” done in a day, but the quality of the work will be diminished.

Our animal selves need to hold things in our hands, breathe deeply, make stuff, feel the pages of a book, and butter that homemade bread.

Which tactile experiences call to you? What do you miss making the time to do? Start there. I dare you to do that today.

…and if you’d like to buy one of my print books, take a look at ’em here.

P.S. Once I cried in Hawaii because not-analog won in a big way. Here’s the story.

rebel!

22 perfectly nice ways to say “NO”

When it comes to being a modern human, we’re given about 6,000,000 choices on any given day. We’re flooded with requests, notifications, text messages, e-mails, and phone calls from people who want something for us or from us at every turn.

That’s why mastering the art of saying “no” in a way that feels right for you is critical to your success as an entrepreneur. If you say “yes” to every offer that comes your way out of a sense of guilt, shame, or fear that someone will think you’re not a nice person, your calendar will be over-committed in no time flat. (Also, every light on your dashboard will be blinking.)

When you’re over-committed, you go around throwing the “I’m so busy” excuse at everyone and their brother. You get less done. Your business suffers from lack of attention. You’re stressed right the fuck out all the time. Your closest relationships take a turn for the worst.

The art of saying “no” is an essential one.

Here are 22 variations on a theme. Print ’em out, hang ’em up, keep ’em close. “No” is an essential tool for your entrepreneurial arsenal.

I can’t offer that to you, but _____________ can.
I’m all booked for that, but ____________ can help!
I think you’d be a better fit for _____________________.
_______________ will take care of you better than I would!
I’m flattered by your offer, but I can’t.
My calendar is completely full for that type of work, but I can offer __________ instead.
I don’t think we’d be a good fit. Here’s the number of a great ________I know: xxx.xxx.xxxx.
Currently, I don’t offer discounts on those products/services.
I don’t have any current promotions on those products/services.
I don’t accept zucchini/babysitting/foreign currency/I.O.U’s as payment for my goods.
While I treasure your friendship, I can’t work for you for free.
Much as I would like to, I can’t offer those products/services at cost.
I’m tempted by your offer, but after much consideration, I’ve decided against it.
We don’t seem to share the same goals/plans/ideas/ideals, so I don’t think our moving forward together in a working relationship is wise.
Your offer is generous/kind/lovely/wonderful/full of rainbows, but I can’t accept it at this time.
Honestly, I can’t deliver that product/service in the timeframe you’ve requested.
I’m busy until next year.
I’m not going to be able to make it to your party/soiree/dinner/mandatory fun event/bouncy castle/dinner party/hipster hoedown.
No freaking way.
No, thanks.
Nope!
No. (It’s a complete sentence, after all.)

Now go forth and say “no” abundantly and with enthusiasm!

P.S. Your brain is an asshole.

get your biz off the ground, rebel!

Decision-making made really, really easy.

When in doubt, you’ll almost always have two options: the comfortable choice and the uncomfortable choice.

Our brains are biased toward keeping us safe (read: comfortable), so your brain will naturally point you in the direction of the comfortable.

Only.

Uncomfortable is where you learn stuff.

You’re not soaking up knowledge during the first minute of a run or the first five minutes of writing or during that whole weekend of sleeping in and watching TV. You’re learning at the limits, hours into a challenging task or weeks into a project you’re not sure will succeed.

Uncomfortable means pushing your own limits about what entrepreneurship, community, fun, and learning can look like and feel like. How do we cross the divide between the online and offline worlds? How do we navigate a group of strangers who we would like to have as friends, despite the distances between us?

Uncomfortable means letting the obvious reveal itself to you without drama. Until you meet that person or hear that speech or read that book or figure that one thing out, you can’t know what to do. But now you know. What will you do about it?

Will you pursue the safe path, or will you go exploring?

I hope you’ll choose the uncomfortable.

Obviously, no one wants to be uncomfortable. No one enjoys the states of cold, hungry, washed in waves of self doubt, tired, sweating, or overwhelmed, but that’s when the good shit surfaces.

It’s horrible to be out of ideas or broke. It’s terrifying to take a wrecking ball to your business or to take the whole enterprise down to the studs. It’s inherently unsafe to start over.

It’s like CrossFit for your soul to get out there and do your work in the world. There are easier options everywhere.

But if you’re reading, it’s your job to do the deeper work that’s almost always uncomfortable. We all have versions of phoning it in that could make us a decent paycheck or keep us outfitted and fed for the coming year.

We’re called to go deeper. (That’s what she said.)

You could go off and read the first chapter of every book in the library instead of hanging out with those three books in the Restricted Section that will change the entirety of your existence.

Most people don’t enter the Restricted Section. They don’t follow the callings of their heart, or their brain or mind or psyche or even their sexual organs (unless they’re drunk on a Friday night).

Most people avoid uncertainty, risk, and the profound sense of taking on uncomfortable as a lifestyle.

But I dare you to be a different sort.

Like what you like.
Pursue what interests you.
And befriend uncomfortable. It looks good on you.

P.S. To explore this topic in a book’s worth of depth, pick up a copy of Calling to the Deep.

figure out what you want, rebel!

When you give an alpaca an ice cream cone: a story for grown-ups

When you give an alpaca an ice cream cone, you’re breaking the rules.

When you find you enjoy breaking the posted rules, you go on to feed a llama a lemon drop.

And when that llama eats the lemon drop, you find he can talk.

That lemon-drop eating llama tells you he loves you, but thinks you need to break more rules.

So you feed another llama another lemon drop. You tell this llama you ARE breaking the rules.

THAT lemon-drop eating llama tells you that blog posting once every eight weeks is not breaking the rules. It’s procrastinating.

He also suggests breaking your own rules, not someone else’s.

He says you should talk to the goat next door.

When you give a goat a lemon drop, he spits it out and waves his tail at you.

Same goes for ice cream cones. And candies. And chocolates.

When you break your own rules and do a little dance that makes you feel so silly you could DIE, he winks.

The goat who is fed by silly dances wants to know which rules are holding you back.

(When you give a goat a silly dance, he gets philosophical.)

You say you’re afraid people will think you’re silly. He says there’s nothing sillier than a talking goat, so get over it.

(Philosophical goats are a bit harsh.)

You say you’re afraid people will run screaming from you and your business. He says they’re not your people.

(Dammit.)

You say you’re afraid that everyone will say you’re silly, run screaming, and then you’ll be a big fat failure.

(Ah, there’s the deep-down truth.)

He asks why you would want to succeed at something that’s not entirely the truth. In particular, your truth.

You sigh, nodding at his wisdom, and ask how to break your own rules.

He says you already know. But if you’d like, you can give that alpaca an ice cream cone…

P.S. How to claim freedom from all kinds of bullshit.

rebel!

The power of decency.

I bought a car yesterday. It was an emergency purchase required by my old car dying a painful death.

So, I wanted to buy a USED (anyone who’s been in 7 car accidents before the age of 30 does not buy new) car. Specifically, an automatic Volkswagen Beetle with a moonroof with under 80,000 miles on it. Year irrelevant, so long as it fit within budget. And time was, you know, of the essence.

I was just going to go to the dealerships of the cars listed on the internet when my Dad warned that they don’t always keep the listings current. The car could be sold. Silly me for thinking that your advertising the car means you still have the car.

I called dealerships. And called dealerships. And called dealerships.

Sold (with listing still active.)

Not sold! But the VW Golf you’re asking about is red, not the Barbie Pink featured in the 18 photos that made you fall down laughing and then inquire immediately. (See dealer photo to the left. I would have ROCKED the pink car.)

And then a ‘Let me check, I’ll call you right back.’

To me, ‘right back’ is not three hours later. But he — we’ll call him Shady — did call back. And Shady said: “Well, since we listed that car online, we’ve found a series of problems: a, b, c, d….r, q…x. That’ll come to an additional $1700. Oh, and the inspection has unfortunately run out, so we’ll need to do that, and an emissions test, and…” I hung up.

The next dealer — we’ll call him Less Shady — said, “Oh, where did you see THAT!?” when I called. On the interwebs. Where you placed twenty-one pictures of the car. “Um, can you hold?” I hold. Turns out that the car was photographed and posted online before it went to the mechanic, and the car is no longer for sale because it ‘isn’t up to dealer standards.’

Let’s recap. I spent over eleven hours on the internet and making phone calls, but still had not actually found a car I could test drive. And then I called Decent.

Decent dealership answered the phone with enthusiasm. They directed my call, and then Chris answered. Chris gave me his first AND LAST name. He told me the price of the car and asked if I had taken a look at the Carfax. (I had. Dad should be proud.) Turns out Chris had taken the trade-in of the car in question. The lady grew tired of the Beetle purchased from the Decent Dealership a few years ago, so she got a new Beetle from the same Decent Dealership.

I bought the car.

All Chris had to do was answer the phone, give me his name, and confirm that the car cost what it said it cost online.

He didn’t have to be amazing, above and beyond, or extraordinary. He just had to be Decent.

Sometimes we focus so much on being extraordinary, revelatory, brilliant, and mind-boggling that we forget the power of Decent. Returned e-mail. Returned phone calls. Enthusiasm for the task at hand. Listening. Honest answers to questions.

I told Chris about my car-buying escapades and he laughed, saying, “I’d rather be lucky than good any day.”

Amen, brother. But you made your own luck yesterday.

P.S. Even strip clubs go out of business.