To have a home, a family, a property or a public function…
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To be a useful cog in the social machine.
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All these things seem necessary, even indispensable, to the vast majority of men, including intellectuals, and including even those who think of themselves as wholly liberated.
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And yet such things are only a different form of the slavery that comes of contact with others.
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Especially regulated and continued contact.
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--Isabelle Eberhardt
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Because after all, isn’t having a little fun with this thing we call life one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves?
No matter where you are, if you are looking to be more creative with giving this year instead of another bottle of Sun-Ripened Raspberry shower gel, I had fun the other day and came up with a whole bunch of sassy gift codes in the event that you’d like to give someone the gift of knowledge and empower someone to learn how to leverage the web, do what they love, and get paid for it.
If you feel oh-so-inclined to click below & purchase You Don’t Need a Job, You Need Guts: Combining Passion + Self + Business Through Digital Entrepreneurship for a friend, you’ll receive one of the extra super duper sassy gift codes (instead of the actual book itself), that you can then jot down in a fancy card, along with a link to the site, and your oh-so-special loved one can then enter the code at checkout and the cost to them will be ZERO.
Pretty neat, eh?
Click here to give someone the gift of knowledge.
Don’t forget to keep an eye out for Paolo Sambrano Part II, which I’ll publish on Thursday. And, of course, get ready for another killer (KILLER) edition of Fear, Exposed tomorrow. It’s a hot one.
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Despair has been bloodthirstly clawing at your soul—savagely, abruptly & without abandon.
It’s grips are icy & callous, as it mercilessly forces itself upon you, the lingering smell of stale gin on its breath, violently violating your good intentions.
You feel smothered, dirty & ashamed as you gasp for air & pray that it will be over soon.
Tears fall silently, but you cannot defend yourself.
Despair overpowers you.
You’ve tried screaming for help, but as it seems, no one can hear you.
And so you remain.
Broken. Forlorn. Bitter.
With nothing more than a string of antique pearls delicately wrapped around your neck & a life that could have been, as a momento.
People such as Everett talk about our generation being immeasurably powerful.
And while he is right in the capability that is there, I believe that our generation isn’t able to fully recognize that power yet, because we are too overwhelmed with dealing with all of the pain & heart-wrenching agony of the greatest tragedy of our time:
The intensely deep dissatisfaction, disilusionment & disappointment that we all have felt with our lives, ever since we stepped off the stage with our diplomas in hand, wide-eyed & optimistic for a bright future that never came.
The despair we’ve experienced as a result is not only our greatest tragedy, but one of humanity’s as well, in a most profound sense. While former generations may have experienced far more difficult times in terms of poverty, physical hardship, death & sickness, there was always, at the core, a notion of hope, of faith, and of conviction in the human race, and in the opportunities that the future might have held–if only they worked hard enough.
We, on the other hand, are not so naive anymore.
For in our case, we have not been bestowed with the luxury of such confidence, because we are the future, we’ve seen what it’s held, and we have been gravely disheartened by the reflection in the crystal ball.
In our case, we are not plagued by hardship in the form of sickness, death or poverty; rather, we are plagued by a relentless mental hardship—one that no doctor, no technology, no amount of money and no amount of high hopes can cure.
It is the mental hardship, the surmounting weight of knowing we are dreadfully unfulfilled.
And it is the mental hardship of knowing that despite that knowledge, we simply just don’t know what to do about it.
This is the real tragedy–the seeming inability to take our lives into our own hands, because we wouldn’t know what to do with it if we did.
For we cannot merely work harder, as generations have done in the past.
No. The promise of more money & more prestige is no longer is an effective enough incentive.
As I see it, the only real solution to our despair is not to work harder, but rather, to work better.
Less machine-like, more human-like.
It’s a humanistic approach to careers–and,ultimately, to our livelihood, and one that has our interests at its core, as opposed to profit.
It is not that we do not wish to work; it’s that we wish to dedicate ourselves to something worthy of the precious time we have left on this earth.
To that end, I believe that as we have evolved, so has our need to create.
Yet, while we have progressed, the ways of the world have not.
We are still very much expected to mold our complex, multi-dimensional, selves into the round hole in order to maintain forward locomotion.
And while in the past, we were happy to do so, we have now rightfully determined that’s not the right direction. That’s not the path we want. It isn’t worthy of our time–and it’s about time we realized it.
And so the internal battle begins; even though we clearly recognize that we don’t want to force ourselves to fit into the round hole anymore, and travel down the road that follows, we simply do not know what else to do, or where else to go.
Yet, our nagging, berating, self-deprecating sense of despair will continue victimize us until we do something about it, regardless.
Until we stop choosing beneath ourselves, and start doing what’s worthy of us.
We must create.
We will no longer find fulfillment in the standard, cookie-cutter career options—in the limited selection that is teacher, doctor, lawyer, accountant, psychologist—and so we must go forth, and hand-craft a career–and a lifestyle–that molds to us, rather than us having to mold to it.
There is no job title for that. There are no statistics at www.bls.gov that you can look to for guidance. There are no standard salaries, and no set expectations.
In order to free ourselves from the icy grips of the despair, we must learn to create–to invent, forge, hand-construct, and bring into existence–the road we wish to travel. And create our own forward locomotion down that road.
It is no longer a question of what you want to do, but rather, who do you want to become?
There is a difference.
There are many who have begun to embrace this concept by means of leveraging the internet, such as Matt, a cubicle-quitting, global wandering, sushi-loving, kangaroo-eating travel-obsessed dude whose job description is being just that, thanks to the web.
Or Benny, whose job description goes something like, “witty, fun-loving, world-roaming, veggie-eating, language hacker who shares his knowledge with the world and gets paid for it.”
I like to think of my own job description as, “overly dramatic, impulsive, contemplative, wine-drinking, smokey-eye makeuped thinker, writer & philosopher of life.” That’s not what I get paid to do—it’s what I get paid to BE, thanks to the power of the internet.
We must create ourselves. We must create our circumstances. We must create our fulfillment.
We must think in terms of who we want to be, rather than what we want to do. And we must boldly take a stand, step forward into the unknown–slowly picking up the pieces of our courage that has since shattered around us–and arrange them into the beautiful mosaic that will serve as the foundation for the vision we have of ourselves.
Your sanity–and your soul–depends on it.
P.S.
Only 12 days until my new book is launched, You Don’t Need a Job, You Need Guts: Combining Passion + Self + Business Through Digital Technology. [Note: Book has now launched. Go here to check it out.]
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(Besides how I’ll never understand why so many people think that God is actually a compelling justification for their particular policy preferences, and why they assume that this move is a trump card that ends all discussion.)
(And that “African American” makes no sense. The term implies that you had ancestors in Africa, but then why aren’t white people from South Africa referred to as African American? (Charlize Theron, ahem.) Furthermore, does the distinction of what kind of American you are really need to be made? We don’t walk around identifying ourselves as “German American,” or “Austrian American,” or “Russian American.” And what about people from countries in Africa like Egypt, Algeria, Morocco & Syria—why are they considered Middle Eastern, and not African American?)
(AND…that the creator of lawn gnomes must be done away with immediately.)
Okay, okay, completely off topic.
/rant
What I’d really shout—what I truly believe our people desperately need to hear—is this and this alone:
Time is only on your side until you betray her, when you no longer acknowledge the beauty of the gift she has given you, but cast it aside in favor of greed, excess & misplaced lust.
She is the equivalent of a gracefully aged, profoundly wise Turkish woman, wrapped in the richest of royal purple cloaks adorned with the most regal of ruby earrings that dangle delicately, but with intention, from her earlobes. Her piercing green eyes sparkle with determination; a reflection of her fearless, yet stubborn character.
Time is kind when you honor her.
But she will turn on you at a moment’s notice.
The minute you turn your back on her.
It is then that she will become fickle.
She will become indifferent.
And unapologetic.
And her revenge will be to speed up your time on earth, so fast that your curse will be to wake up one day, and suddenly realize that your life has passed you by without so much as your participation.
Because with her, she doesn’t give second chances.
She will not give the gift again.
So I say to you—I caution you—to cherish her & her generosity. Appreciate her & her offering to you.
And do not let her gift go unnoticed.
Far too often, we willingly surrender our time–our most precious of resources–without so much as a second thought, be it in the name of more money or out of some false notion of obligation. We take its seeming endless nature for granted, assuming there’ll always be time for us later.
The problem is that there is no such thing as later—”later” is an imaginary concept that’s really nothing more than an optimistic hope, at best.
Now, on the other hand, is very real.
You can be certain of that.
So drop whatever you’re doing—whatever nagging thing that’s on your to-do list that seems important—and do something that actually is important.
That something is you.
The well-being of the world is depending on it.
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We also might have had a round of margaritas, which could have enhanced the perceived value of the conversation, but nevertheless, I wanted to share it with you.
It went something like this:
ME: So, I imagine you came here with some expectations about the U.S. What have been your greatest disappointments thus far? (Seriously, I should have been an anthropologist.)
HIM: Besides the fact that no one knows how to make a real margarita?
ME: What, you don’t like the margarita?
HIM: I’m just kidding. I just think it’s (pauses)…interesting how you Americans lick these big pieces of salt off of the rim, as if you were a cow.
ME: I’ll be happy to have your salt if you don’t want it.
HIM: Is that a serious proposition?
ME: After another one of these it might be.
Anyway, disappointments. I want to know what your big, fat disappointments have been about life here in the U.S.
HIM: Well, to be honest, I think the thing that I notice most is how you’re great at making life look good, but very poor at actually living it. The focus is very narrow and revolves only around money. You don’t seem to be very good at relaxing and enjoying the money you’ve made; instead, you’re out there making more money. I just wonder: How much money do you really need?
ME: Funny–there’s a saying that says that you can never have enough money. I guess people take that to heart.
HIM: The other thing is that time seems to pass more quickly here. In Mexico, an hour feels like a day, a day feels like a week, a week feels like a month, and a month feels like a year. Here, it’s the opposite: A year feels like a month, a month feels like a week, a week feels like a day, and a day feels like an hour. I feel like I’m in a rush all of the time. I hate that.
ME: Thoughts on why that is?
HIM: Yeah – everyone is always stressed, worried, and overthinking everything. Your brain never has any downtime. It’s constantly working. In Mexico, you worry about eating. Once you’ve got that covered, your time is yours–it does not belong to overbearing thoughts that completely consume you. We’re grateful to have food on our plate; everything else is a bonus. Then we can live in the moment, instead of constantly trying to control the outcome of all of the future moments.
ME: Interesting. I’m going to make a note of this conversation in my blackberry.
HIM: Why?
ME: So I can write about it on my blog.
HIM: See what I mean? You can’t even be in the present moment now because you’re already thinking of what you’re going to do in the future.
ME: That’s not because I’m an American; that’s because I’m neurotic.
HIM: What does the word “neurotic” mean?
ME: It means I get very upset if certain philosophical Mexican immigrants do not order a second round of margaritas before I’m done typing.
HIM: So neurotic is a synonym for alcoholic?
ME: Very funny.
I think most of us would agree that we’re a time-poverty nation, with many of us wanting to get off the merry-go-round but unsure just how to go about doing so.
I once wrote about the U.S. Concept of Time and how our attitude toward time as a tangible resource forces us to become engaged in a never ending battle to mold, shape and bend time to our will. We view it as a limited entity, and therefore have to speed up our lives in order to fit it within time’s confines.
Because of this mind-set, we’ve evolved into a society of do-ers, where action is applauded, and anything less regarded as lazy, unmotivated and weak.
I encourage you to check that post out here, if you haven’t already.
Beyond that, though, why do you think that time seems to move so quickly here in the U.S.? Is it our strict adherence to deadlines and our worship of the clock? Is it a psychological thing, because our minds are so buried in a mountain of to-dos, as my Mexican friend might suggest? Is it because of our value of productivity?
What are your thoughts? (No, you don’t have to buy me a margarita in order to get in on the conversation. This time, anyway.)
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Got a hitch in your giddy-up? Ashley Ambirge at @TMFproject can help :) On the for real though ;)
RT @tmfproject $100,222.37 I luv this blog. Funny. Edgy. Controversial. http://t.co/3D9vSYKx
All I wanna do is read @TMFproject and think about target markets instead of write this final.
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