At some point, you’ve gotten drunk and thought to yourself: I wish I had a business partner! This wouldn’t be so scary! It would make it so much fun! We could do it together! We’ll ride off into the sunset! Like Thelma and Louise! And they’ll keep me accountable! And we’ll make ALL the money! …and having double the capital wouldn’t be bad, either. *wide grin* As someone who’s had multiple business partners, negotiated multiple business partnerships, worked alongside
You’re going to fuck up. Or at the very least, at some time in your life, someone’s going to think you did. And while each apology is going to require its very own dollop of attention, these three steps will get you started in the right direction, (which everyone knows is due North). 1. Keep it brief–not to be confused with showing them your briefs, which might make things worse. Get in, get out, and get over it. The longer
I want to find a way to say wanker in this post, but since I’m not British, it feels a little unethical. Like I’m stealing words that don’t belong to me. I’m not sure why I want to say wanker; I’m not angry in the least. But now that I think of it, a few things have inconvenienced me lately. Like the fact that my Wifi signal decided to take a pee break three times during an important (first) client meeting yesterday.
Sometimes it’s too easy. Too easy to say yes when you want to say no. Too easy to end up spending all of your time–maybe a lifetime–pleasing everybody who asks you to. Too easy to let people cross, squash, tap dance on, and bulldoze right the fuck over your boundaries. And too easy to lose grasp on your most crazyhearted dreams because of it. It’s too easy. We’ve got all sorts of stuff around being liked, not wanting to “seem
I have a THESIS. Remember that word? Thesis. Sounds smart, so I decided to make one. You ready? My thesis is this: We’re all a little lonely inside. And maybe outside, too. Despite and , co-workers and colleagues, friends and family, and the thirty thousand nods, smiles and courtesies of strangers… …There’s still a small part of you that feels companionless. It’s a big, big world and you’ve got big, big ideas, and you’re doing it all with a
“Life is a banquet, and most dumb bastards are starving to death.” This is the reason I’ve dedicated my life to having fun. Pure, uninhibited fun, pleasure, indulgence, thrill. To wake up when it feels right–or dreamily slink back under my silky white sheets when it doesn’t. To take long, leisurely Monday morning strolls through Santiago’s parks, fondly admiring starry-eyed adolescent couples as they lay together in the grass, tickling one another, anxiously awaiting the first kiss, and secretly wondering