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Marriage scares the *#$^!&*(±*@&%^$*#@(±!!)!)!%&@# out of me.

As a matter of fact, it scares me so much, there should really be some of these in there: ¡¿¡¿ (For once, buying my Macbook in South America, and having the corresponding Spanish keyboard, paid off. Look at that sexy upside down punctuation! You like them papayas? Do ya? I’m pretty sure I learned how to parallel park faster than I learned how to navigate this keyboard, just for the record.)

It’s not marriage itself that scares me, per say.

I can be faithful. I can compromise. I can listen. Care. Love. I know when to put my pride to the side, when to give space, when to throw up him against a wall, and when to shut de fuck up during the game.

I can be thoughtful. Giving. Passionate. Coy–which I believe every woman must learn how to be, to a point, whether she’s seducing a new lover, or seducing her husband of 20 years. There’s a reason it’s called, “keeping a marriage alive,” in which “marriage” is really just a nice euphemism for “sexual appetite.” Let’s be honest. (To those of you about to comment and say that a “healthy marriage” is based on “mutual love and respect,” I hear you, and I agree, of course. But I also imagine you’re not getting laid nearly enough.)

I actually believe I’d make an excellent wife, someday.

Not in the subservient sense, which is sort of how that statement comes across, but in the holy-shit-I’m-(still)-madly-in-love-with-that-woman-and-I’m-so-glad-I-married-her kind of sense. I’m pretty sure Ludacris nailed it when he said, “Want a lady in the street, but a freak in the bed.” What truer words could be spoken of man kind? By which I literally am referring to man-kind, or perhaps more appropriately, male-kind. 

Hell, I could even learn how to bake cookies or some shit.

The institution of marriage, while I’ve questioned its validity many (many) times, isn’t really what scares me, after all. Whether such a man-made cultural construct is valid or not no longer concerns me, because I understand why it exists.

I used to believe the institution of marriage continued to exist mostly because of tradition, and with tradition, a certain sense of “it’s just what people do.” Which is why I rejected it, because I think that doing anything just because “it’s what people do” is a ridiculous, lazy and cowardice way to live life–and will often result in misery, dissatisfaction, and moundfuls of resentment that manifests itself nicely into weekly (daily?) blackouts at your neighborhood dive bar. Peanuts on the house, ev’body!

Rather, I now tend to believe that marriage exists, not always because we’re suppose to marry, but because, as human beings, we want to marry.

We’ve got a secret–or not so secret–longing for companionship and intimacy, and we seem to look to marriage to fulfill those basic human needs.

And that be cool. I can ride that train.

The scary part, however, comes down to one question: What if, while prancing around, eating bon-bons and bathing myself in all of this hot, sexy companionship and intimacy…I drown and lose everything that was once me…in the process?

What I want to know is this: It is possible to be 100% devoted to your marriage, while still staying 100% devoted to yourself? I know that sounds like a basic question that we’ve all heard, and one with a seemingly simple answer: “Yes! Absolutely! It’s about give and take! It’s about maintaining your separate identities! It’s about boundaries! It’s about giving space! It’s about ______________________ (fill in the blank with whatever overplayed self-help phrase you can think of.)

But I want to go deeper than the superficial answers you hear on Oprah. 

Because mathematically, it ain’t possible, yo. You can’t give 100% to one thing, and 100% to another, because that adds up to more than the whole, and, THAT JUST CAN’T BE. (Hat tip, Mr. Hayden, 9th grade geometry class, huzzah.)

So that being the case, it would imply that one or the other will always sort of be, well…half-assed.

And really, this isn’t even a fair comparison, because, of course, you’ll always have other things in your life that require your attention, taking up part of that whole: family, friendships, hobbies, your impending unibrow…you know, the ush.

So while I don’t mean to be so black and white about it–marriage or you, do or die!–I can’t help but feel that too often, it ends up being the case.

I’ve got big things in the works. Big, splashy marks I intend to make on the world. And I refuse to give anything less than 100%. And I have a feeling that it’s going to be that way for a long time. As D says, there is no such thing as life balance. And she’s right–not when your intentions involve throwing everything off balance.

So where do you find the bandwidth? At what point do you make space for the companionship? The intimacy? And all of the time required to even get to those places? And what must you sacrifice as a result?

This is why marriage scares me.

Not the institution of it, nor whether or not I’ll actually find the right partner (he will have dimples, and we will love each other long time), but, rather, the sacrifice involved in such a heavy commitment.

Something has to go.

And that something can’t be me.

So where does that leave us?

¡¿

What are your thoughts? If you’ve ever felt this way, type “BEEP!” in the comments.

If you’ve never felt this way, type “HONK!” in the comments.

And if you’d like to apply to become my future husband (and compete with my work, being made to feel sub-par and unimportant every single day until I get this issue worked out), type your god damn Twitter handle already.

What? Never hurts to ask.

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I have a confession to make.

Not about the time I was a cold, unfeeling bitch.

Or the time I fell in uncontrollably in love with an illegal Mexican immigrant who lied to me for 7 months about his real name.

Nor about the time I mixed oatmeal and hot sauce and secretly liked it.

(Just kidding–what kind of a sicko would actually do that?)

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No, no. This confession has to do with my business.  And with you.  In a roundabout sort of way.

It’s a dirty confession. And you might question my morals as a result. And think less of me. And fly to Chile to egg my house. Or send someone else to do it. (Please pick someone attractive so at least we can make out afterward.) (Not like I do things like that in public, or anything.)

Are you ready for it?

I’m gonna take a deep breath and then just blurt it out.

Errr….type it out.

Here it goes.

Ready?

The confession is this: For the past seven months, I’ve been running my business on an old, used Acer netbook.

There, I said it.  And don’t you dare laugh at those stickers.  I’ll get to them in a minute.

But first, have you ever worked on a netbook? If so, you’d know that the processor is incredibly slow (oftentimes you type and the words don’t show up right away), the keyboard is more than cramped (helllllo, carpal tunnel), there’s virtually no memory, and unicorns don’t come flying out of the screen like they did on my old Macbook. (Whatever, you didn’t work on my Macbook so you can’t prove that I’m lying.)

To top things off, this particular netbook did not run on a typical operating system, i.e. Windows or Mac, but rather, it ran on Linux. And Jolicloud. And don’t even ask me how they fit together. And don’t even ask me how I figured it all out.

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So I guess the real question that remains to be answered is…why?

Well, aside from any theories relating to masochism, there’s a few reasons.  But I do believe a story is in order.  So gather ’round, ya’ll.

Once upon a time, there was an entrepreneur.

A sassy entrepreneur.

And once upon a time, that entrepreneur decided to actually spend some time cleaning her house.

As she dusted and danced, swept and mopped, she was overwhelmed with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Until it happened.

Right as she was about to finish, she did one last twirl with broom in hand, belting the lyrics to Britney Spears’ One More Time, and at that very moment, before she could realize what was happening, her broomstick made contact with the glass of water sitting atop her dresser, and SPLASH went the water all over the place.

Including all over her desk, where her Macbook patiently lie awaiting her return.

She ran to it, grasping the Macbook in her arms, pleading with it to hold on, as a tear silently fell down her cheek. It was approximately as dramatic as the final scenes in Titanic.  “I’ll never let go, Mac, I’ll never let go!” she cried.

But unfortunately, it was too late.

A few days later, a funeral was held. It was a sad, sad day.

Even more unfortunately, the time her Macbook died was right around the same time she had hit an all-time low; work wasn’t flowing in freely, and she was struggling to make ends meet. She even had to take one of those scammy pay-day loans in order to make it through. (That’s a lie–she actually had to take two.)

She certainly couldn’t swing $2,000 for a new one.

Enter:  Andrew Norcross.

Him:  ”Ash – To tide you over, I’ll sell you a netbook that I never use for $50.”

Me:  ”Done and done.  Here’s my address.”

And that, friends, explains the stickers. Which, by the way, always got me strange looks when I was in Starbucks, dressed up in pearls and high heels. Which always made me giggle. (Love you, Norcross!)

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Shortly thereafter, business got a whole lot better again.

Mostly because instead of just producing witty copy for clients (still my favorite thing to do) and relying on feast or famine, I launched my ebook, began taking on web strategy clients again, and made a goal to hit $97K this year–a lot of which I’m doing through the creation of systems.

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• Do you know I wrote and published my entire eBook with severe cramps in my hands while using a $50 netbook adorned with heavy metal stickers?
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• Do you know I spoke with clients via a buggy, beta version of Skype for Linux that sometimes worked, and sometimes didn’t?
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• Do you know how embarrassing it was to be on a recorded interview with someone, and have it constantly break up?
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• Do you know that I actually cried over it more than once?

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Yet, even though business picked up, I was still terrified–absofuckinglutely terrified–of being back in a situation like I had been in the past, with $26 in my bank account, sleeping in my car.

So I vowed to make due.

I vowed to wait it out.

I vowed to make the best of what I had.

And I vowed to MAKE IT WORK ANYWAY.

I told myself that once I pulled in $5K for the month, I would reward myself with a new Macbook.  That, or once the heavy metal netbook eventually bit the dust.

Ironically enough, both happened just this past month.

For the month of March, I generated $5,742.42 in revenue as a blogger and digital entrepreneur–2.5 times what I was making at my last job in corporate America. Then, just last week, the heavy metal netbook–my lifeline and savior for the past 7 months–saw it’s very last browser window, before refusing to turn on ever again.

The time had arrived.

I marched down to the Apple store, and am now proudly typing on a shiny new Mac. To my dismay, the price was about $200 more than it is in the states; here in Chile, electronics are rather pricey. But I didn’t care. I deserved it.  Hooray, margaritas for everyone.

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The reason why I’m telling you this story is this:

If you want to start a business, you’ve got no excuse as to why you can’t make it work.

If you want to start a business, you’ve got to be scrappy, hustle, and charge forward regardless.

If you want to start a business, you’ve got to make the best of what you’ve got, and have faith that the best of what you’ve got will get better.

If you want to start a business, you’ve got to find opportunity in the gloomiest of situations, and leverage it with every ounce of energy you can muster, until you’re absolutely exhausted–and then wake up and do it all over again.

If you want to start a business, you’ve got to forget your pride, be humble, and DO WHAT IT TAKES.

But most of all, if you want to start a business, you’ve got to start thinking like someone in business.

Sometimes this means working smart. Sometimes it means working hard. Sometimes it means knowing when to cut your losses. And sometimes it means knowing when to celebrate them.

But no matter what, being successful in business always means having the relentless perseverance to overcome hurdles, not just by jumping over them, but by smashing through them with all your might.

Because even though it may hurt a little at first, eventually the path will be clear up ahead.

As long as no one flies to Chile to egg your house, that is.

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P.S.  Shame on you for gawking at photos of me kissing good-looking Australians on the dance floor.

P.P.S.  It’s a good pic, isn’t it?!

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“Good afternoon, ma’am!” he cheerfully exclaims.

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I look up from my menu, and I’m greeted by the eager, smiling face of a young boy.  One of his front teeth is noticeably chipped in half, but that doesn’t stop him from beaming with uninhibited enthusiasm as he carefully lays down 5 sheets of Hello Kitty stickers to the side of my placemat.

Before I can say anything, he takes the lead:

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“My, your hair color is very becoming on you, if I do say so myself,” he says.  “Do you get your hair done here, or are you visiting from another country?”

“Why, I’m visiting from another country,” I say, as I sit up in my chair to better face him. “Can you guess which one?”

“Well, you don’t have a Chilean accent, and most of the visitors that come here are Chileans.  You don’t have very dark skin, either.  But I’m not a very good guesser.”

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He looks momentarily ashamed.

I tell him where I’m from, and then turn the conversation around on him.

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“How old are you?”

“I’m 11,” he says.  “But I’ll be 12 on February 15th. That’s soon, right?”

“Yes, that’s very soon.  So what’s an 11 year old boy out doing on a Saturday afternoon selling Hello Kitty stickers?”

“Oh, I always do this.  I’ve been doing it for two whole years,” he proudly states.  “I’m paying for my school.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“It’s Daniel.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” I say.  “I’m Ashley.”

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Suffice to say, Daniel and I chat for a bit longer, and I buy far too many Hello Kitty stickers than any 26 year old woman should ever admit.

He walks away, and I turn and watch him approach others, to be immediately dismissed with the flick of a wrist, a shoo-shoo motion, time and time again.  And time, and time again, he swallows the rejection, takes a deep breath, and moves onto the next table, putting on his best face and summoning once again his greatest enthusiasm.

Then, he disappears out of sight.

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I’m at a cafe in Mendoza, Argentina, and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

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Not because I am disgusted, or bothered, but because I can’t help but think about what I was doing on a sunny Saturday afternoon, the summer before I turned 12.

My eyes tear up.

I order a glass of wine.

And there, I contemplate.

It certainly isn’t uncommon to be approached by children at outdoor cafes, both in Argentina and Chile, and probably many other parts of the world.  Some say that their parents put them up to it, because they assume that people like me will feel bad, and be inclined to give them money–far more money than if the parents, themselves, had approached.

This is likely the case.  And I’m a sucker for it every time.

And though some days, there are so many children doing it, it becomes a bit bothersome, I still can’t help but feel badly, because whether their parents are putting them up to it or not, they still have to do it.

I think of the shame I would feel.  The disgrace.  The mortification.

And then I remind myself that they’re children, and they probably haven’t been socialized enough to feel those things entirely–especially if they’ve grown up doing it.  This has become their norm.

But as I contemplate, there’s something that suddenly, I discover, that I admire.

I don’t just mean the children of the cafes.

It’s the determined teen on the street selling 3 pairs of Nikes on a blanket, in one size only.

It’s the quiet woman who sets up shop outside of the metro station, day in and day out, and attempts to sell her colorful hand-sewn coin purses.

It’s the elderly man with the bad back who humbly spends his mornings ignoring his pain, bending over anyway to buff the shoes of the young, arrogant man half his age.

It’s the homeless woman who, despite any hope left in her eyes, stands tall, quietly places her cupped hands out in front of her, closes her eyes, and sings opera for hours on end.

It’s the man without legs who, using his arms alone, painstakingly drags his body down the aisle of the public bus, wonders if anyone is going to offer to help (they don’t), props himself up on the floor, takes a deep breath, and begins to tell jokes with a megaphone.

It’s the man who, on that same bus later that night, softly pulls an accordion from its case, and begins to play for the passengers, most of which have just come from the bar.  They talk loudly over his music, as if he were invisible. The man appears to be in his sixties, and every time the bus comes to a harsh stop, which is nearly every time, he bangs backward into the window and nearly topples over, but somehow, doesn’t.

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You know what all of this is?

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It’s called TENACITY.

And it is that which I find myself admiring.

I have never witnessed a population of people so scrappy, willing to take any skill they have and turn it into a business.

But along with their tenacity, there’s something else I deeply admire.

It’s their humility.

It’s extremely useful, this humility.  It’s unpretentious, unassuming, and innocent, in a way.  More than anything, it’s their humility that’s their greatest business asset; without it, they’d have nothing.  With it, they’ve got something.

Without humility,

What would become of the teen too proud to sell Nikes on the street?

What would become of the quiet woman too proud to sell her hand-sewn coin purses?

What would become of the elderly man with the bad back, too proud to buff the shoes of men half his age?

What would become of the homeless woman too proud to sing?

What would become of the man without legs too proud to hoist himself onto a bus?

What would become of the man too proud to play his accordion in front of a crowd?

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I begin wondering about me.  About you.  About us.

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What would become of us?

And the greater question: Are we humble enough?

Have we prevented ourselves from starting amazing businesses simply because we weren’t humble enough?

…because we were too proud to risk failure?

What will become of the writer, the artist, the story-teller, the designer, the dreamer and the entrepreneur desperately longing to build a business from their craft, but too proud to risk rejection?

Somehow, it seems that whether you’re a shoe shiner on the streets of Chile, or an artist from the suburbs of California, without humility, your fate becomes one in the same: A quiet loss of dignity.

For the shoe shiner, his dignity lies in being able to provide for his family.

For the rest of us, our dignity lies in being able to provide for our soul.

And without humility, neither can be accomplished.

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Because humility is a pre-requisite for success–no matter what business you’re in.

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Humility is what gets you through the nervewracking process of putting yourself out there for the very first time.

Humility is what helps you through your very first criticisms.

Humility is what forces you to put yourself out there again, despite those criticisms.

And humility is the tool that allows you to change things, when sometimes, those criticisms were right.

But most importantly, humility is what makes it okay not to have all of the answers, all of the time.

Because you won’t.

Ultimately, humility is what will carry your business–and your soul–forward.

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I think of Hello Kitty and Daniel once again.  I think of the 11-year old boy who, upon business failure, swallows each rejection, takes a deep breath, and begins again.

And I am grateful.

Because even though it’s his birthday on the 15th, he’s given me a gift.

The gift of the pure genius hiding behind his smile.

Chipped tooth and all.

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How you shine

+

How you can help others shine =

BUSINESS BRILLIANCE

Take a hard look at that, and really think about what that means.

It’s the only equation you need to know.

The rest are details that can be sorted along the way.

So, what are you waiting for?

Do the math, and get something going.

Why Not Take The Leap?

I’ve been meeting a lot of truly smart, savvy, remarkable people lately.  So many are saying to hell with the safety net, and are leaping toward their passions, and haven’t looked back since.

On the same token, however, so many of those smart, savvy, remarkable people are not.

Frankly, this makes me want to burst into tears and heave a cartful of lemon tarts at someone.

I’m dangerous like that.

Being a naturally curious person, I’m prone to asking why a lot.  Why aren’t you leaping toward your passion?  If you’re not happy where you are, then why not change it?  What’s preventing you from living the life you wish you were?

I have this annoyingly obsessive need to know the answers to these things.  We’re capable of doing so much, yet don’t take advantage of the opportunities that are available to us.  By “doing so much,” that isn’t to imply that more is better, because it’s too often the case that we’re already doing so many things that we’ve created a self-imposed prison of sorts; we’re prisoners to our own lives, and we can’t get off the treadmill.

It isn’t a matter of quantity; it’s a matter of quality.  It isn’t about doing more; it’s about reflecting on what it is we’re already doing, and assessing whether or not what we’re doing make sense in line with who we want to be.

You are the sum of the collection of things you do.

On the surface, that may sound superficial–I am not defined just what I do, but what I think and what ideas I have!

Sure thing, cowboy–ideas are great, but an idea will only take you so far without action.

If you aren’t willing to take your ideas and thoughts and turn them into something tangible, then in a tragic sort of way they become nearly useless.  Sure, there’s some value in critical thinking by itself, but there needs to be a product of that critical thought in order for it to truly become meaningful.

Ideas are magical.  They have the power to transform your entire life, if only you’ll pay attention to them and then do something with them. The only time something is “just a dream” is when you allow it to be.  In this sense, we’re not just prisoners to our own lives, but we’re volunteering to be.

Top 5 Excuses (You Make) That Zap Your Dreams

Throughout the conversations I’ve been having with folks, I’ve noticed a common theme emerging.  It seems as if the following 5 excuses are most popular on why people aren’t doing what they wish they could do:

1.  I don’t think I’m good enough.

Someone call the self-esteem police; this one is just not going to cut it.  Ever.  First of all, “good” is a relative term.  As long as you know more about a topic than someone else, then you will be filling a need.

Second, if you really aren’t very good at something you’d like to do, you’ll never become any better at it if you don’t start somewhere.  Don’t let lack of experience prevent you from doing awesome shit; start small and build from there.

2.  I don’t have the time.

Doing awesome shit is a priorities game. You’re absolutely right–there are only 24 hours in a day, and sometimes we’re limited not only by hours, but by how much creative, emotional and physical energy we have at any given time.  Sometimes you’re just not in the zone; hell, I’ve been having a hard time myself getting in the zone as we work from the car.  As I type this, I’m writing with my mac on my lap in the passenger seat, en route from Wilmington, North Carolina to Orlando, Florida.

I get that.

But here’s the thing: Nothing’s going to change if you don’t start making time.  We aren’t super heros; you can’t do everything at once.  We need to carefully pick and choose our battles.

What are you fighting for?  In other words, what do you dedicate most of your time and energy to?  Is it helping you achieve your goals, or is it standing in your way?

3.  I don’t have the money.

Money simply isn’t as important as we make it out to be.  Most people assume that in order to start a business, for example, they’ll need to come up with so much capital and then find an office and then hire employees, etc. etc. etc.  We start imagining all of the details, and we become overwhelmed by them.  Frustrated.  Intimidated.  Scared.  And we chicken out.  We make excuses.  We tell ourselves that it isn’t the best time to be starting a business right now, anyway, and that maybe our job isn’t so bad–at least there’s free coffee, right?

It’s a fine example of voluntary self-imprisionment at it’s finest.

The truth is that it doesn’t have to be that complicated.  It doesn’t have to be that big.  We can start moving toward our goals inch by inch, and readjust as necessary.  We don’t have to start out having all of the bells and whistles; maybe we just get started doing some probono work to build our reputation, in order to find some paying clients who will help fund our growth.

Everyone started somewhere.  Having a lot of money isn’t necessary to do awesome shit; having the courage to take positive forward steps is. Imagine the goal, and then figure out a way to make it happen.  Don’t let a lack of funds deter you from exploring ideas that could change your life for the better.

4.  I don’t know how.

This might be the least valid excuse of all, and we need to pick it up and chuck it out the window, right into the dumpster.

If it turns out that you don’t know much about a given topic, then dammit, GO FIND OUT.  In the age of information, if you’re willing to dedicate a little time, then you can become nearly expert at almost anything.  Don’t be lazy–this is your life we’re talking about here.

5.  I don’t have a degree in X.

In the past, this argument might have been more acceptable; nowadays, however, it’s been rendered obsolete, thanks to the internet.  Degrees are nothing more than red tape; in reality, anyone can go learn the same amount of knowledge themselves through books, podcasts, forums, blogs, web searches, etc.

Let’s say tomorrow I decide I want to become a web designer.  I don’t need to go to a fancy design school and take out a ton of loans to do so; I simply need to get resourceful and start consuming information, start practicing, and start seeking feedback from those with more experience–not hard to do.  Hop on Twitter and leverage the incredible power of networking.

Then I brand myself as an expert in X, and start taking on clients.  Boom.  I’m a web designer.  Just like everything, there’s a learning curve, but it’s absolutely one worth riding on two wheels until you get your bearings. Obviously this might not work for all fields, but there’s a lot you can do on your own.  It’s about having the confidence to get started.

Whatever you do, do not let yourself become one of those “if only I had….” people.  You will never forgive yourself.

Be bold. Take chances.  Revel in the unknown.  And remember that there’s no proof that says that life was meant to be serious.  Get out there and play with it.  Engage with the world.  See what’s out there.

And always, always, always have faith in yourself.

At the end of the day, it’s all we’ve got.

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