STOP WAITING. You don’t need to wait for someone else to “give you” the dream job, any. That one where you travel the world, sourcing big, funky oversized silver jewelry and re-selling it in your shop. That one where you photograph every luxury boutique hotel in the city and create your own guide. That one where you design your own of handbags, and start selling them in pop ups all over the United States. The one where you create
When your idea isn’t clear, you know what you do? Cover it up with blabber. Adjectives. Flowery words that try to compensate for the fact that you don’t actually know what you’re talking about (yetttt). But good ideas stand on their own. If you’re having trouble writing about it, your writing may not be the problem. Go back to the idea, and start there. Because if you can’t say it in one sentence, you’ll never be able to say it
In the mornings, I let myself linger underneath the covers, twisting the full, fluffy comforter up and around my face, letting my feet dance in the cotton. It feels so good, to slide your soles through the cool material—almost sinful. When I shower, I surrender to the warmth of the water, letting it caress my skin from my shoulders to the top of my ass, and really feeling what that feels like, to be nude—and alive. When I sip my
“That’s the exception, not the rule,” is a tragic piece of advice. As any leader knows, “be the exception, not the rule,” is how leaders are born in the first place.
The other day someone to note of my new daily blog post. “You’re launching something big,” they said. “No,” I replied. “I’m just a writer.” We’ve gotten so used to there always being an ulterior motive, that we’re suspicious when there isn’t one. Do the thing you’re called to do, especially when you have no motive.
Things aren’t always what they seem. An e list full of 100,000 people is meaningless if only 100 of those people open the es. Similarly, an e list of 100 people, with 100 of those people opening them, does mean something. Who is successful? And who is doing something that actually matters?
What if I told you I was giving you your very own daily column, where you could write about anything you wanted? What if I told you I was giving you your own TV show, where you’d be the star? What if I told you I was putting you on the radio, where you could talk about the things that mattered to you every week? And what if I told you that we were going to do fancy photo shoots,
Checking into a hotel can be a nightmare. Long s. Tourists in hiking shoes. That bald guy pounding a beer. (At least, this was the scholarly scene I witnessed yesterday.) (Just kidding, I rooted him on.)But hotels are reticent to replace humans with technology, because they fear they’ll be sacrificing “the personal touch.” Do you know how many times I arrive to a hotel and wish I could just swipe my passport at a kiosk, like I do at the airport,
Mediocre questions for figuring out what you should do with your life: What type of industry should I go into? Which career path should I pursue? What kind of job should I get? What kind of business should I start? What services should I offer? How should I price this? What do I write? How do I do it? HOW CAN I BECOME A RICH, SKINNY BITCH WHO LOOKS FLAWLESS ON INSTAGRAM AND EATS CHILDREN FOR BREAKFAST? A better one: What
Yesterday I talked about change—and it’s no coincidence. I’m making some big changes myself, given that a lot of things are coming to an end, right now. Because iteration is what we’re all doing, every single day, even if it blows by us going 100mph down the freeway. (In a red Ferrari, sming a cigar, with a license plate that reads: TOOFAST4U.) We iterate as we breathe; we iterate every time we exercise; we iterate every time we learn something
Not being able to easily define what you do isn’t necessarily bad.Easily definable things are things that have been done so much, we know exactly how to categorize them. Name them. Label them. Sort them. So if what you want to create is just another X, then great. You’ll be able to define it with ease. But if you’re having trouble calling a spade a spade, maybe that’s because you don’t have a spade. And maybe that’s a good thing.
I’ve been writing a bo for nearly two years now, which sounds absolutely homicidal when I say it out loud. I mean, let’s be honest: most of my romantic relationships haven’t even lasted that long. (OKAY FINE, UNTIL NOW, BECAUSE THE LOS AND I ARE ON, LIKE, YEAR #BAZILLION.) I’ve learned a lot about commitment, these last two years, which means I’ve also learned a lot about myself. (For example, apparently I know jack shit about hyphens. Who knew?) But
Want to start a blog? Read Part I of this series first! So this morning when I was sitting here loing like an absolute homeless person, I was doing what I do every morning: tiptoeing into my brain and and dragging memories out with a sledgehammer, AKA WRITING. I do this every morning for no less than three hours, but very often five or six, because once I get going, it’s like prying a teenager away from a Playstation. (Seriously,
I GIVE UP: WHERE IS EVERYBODY?! In 2009 I started this blog and I remember thinking that pretty soon EVERYONE was going to be doing it—My friends! My rs! My former teachers! That neighbor with the soupy ass! (sweatpants can be evil)—and the gig was going to be up, because I HAD DISCOVERED THE SECRET TO ALL THE THINGS (not to mention making my first $103,000 that year—which, trust me, was a f*ck ton back then). I remember thinking:
Get a load of this insider information: Did you know your brain actually needs SLEEP? I’m pretty sure that none of us are ACTUALLY SLEEPING, and you know who I blame this entirely on? Wine. Holy mother of dragons, discovery of the decade: If I have wine at night, I will not be able to sleep. And by “not be able to sleep,” what I mean to say is that I’ll be laying there in bed like a pissed
So that happened this week. There’s a lot that could be said, and a lot I’ll refrain from saying, but I did want to send a courtesy note to say, first of all, that my new on business mentorship program is still moving forward—and starts tomorrow—and second, that holy moly, it’s about so much than your career. You know, I’d never thought too much about on business as something that could save the world—at least, not in much
*enthusiastic drum roll por favor* Just kidding. I’d actually like an electronic harp, please. (Obviously superior.) Ladies, gents, and pandas, it is my pleasure to announce that the all-new Unf*ckwithable Boss On Business Development Program is now officially open. If you ever wished that you and I could put our heads together over a bottle of wine, and work together for a series of weeks ing in hard and creating—or overhauling—your on business from start to finish, A-Z, this is for you. As
Hang onto your pumpkin loafs! (By which I mean, eat all the pumpkin loaf and then get yo’ glasses on, because there’s big news in the house today.) My brand-new business mentorship program has just rolled up in a Cadillac and is currently swigging vodka before making its debut onto the red carpet. It’s called UNF*CKWITHABLE BOSS, and it’s here to change the face of modern work forever. Unconventional name? Check. Unconventional purpose? Double check. If you’ve been thinking about striking
Real talk: I think you’re a liar. A very, very convenient liar. I can call you that because we’re all in the same club. Because the thing is, when you’re out there doing creative work, and new work, and work that has no manager, no support team, no pat on the back, there are days when you will wake up and be convinced that you’re a total fuck up; that you’re not any good; that you’re in over your head; that
Jesus, do you feel that? *Not a direct quote from Donald Trump I was scrolling through my feed, as one does on a Thursday night when they’ve just made themselves a pot of coffee in a feeble attempt to NOT keep the sleep schedule of an eighty year old choir member, and there it was, all over the place: The sense that everybody is entirely bullshitting you. And, you know, I’m not entirely sure who I’d like to
There seems to be this idea that you should be ready for stuff before you do it. You should do your research. Come fully prepared. Think ahead. Not get taken by surprise. While that might be practical advice when you’re presenting an 8th grade science project, or pitching your boss an idea, or trying anal for the first time—SHE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT—it’s the farthest thing from practical in a modern world of entrepreneurship. The assumption behind the “plan
Ohhhhh, fucking shit. Those are kind of the words I want to say all the time, except if I did say them all the time, I’m pretty sure I’d start to get sick of them, like one does after eating tuna fish every day (not like I’d know anything about that) and that’s really my greatest fear, really: Lackluster profanities. I mean, talk about losing the will to live. And then there are other reasons, of course, like the
Google can’t save you. Here is a short but compelling list of things Google is good for: Figuring out how the hell to poach a wet, floppy fish Ordering purple pimp costumes to wear to dinner at your in-law’s Frantically searching the correct pronunciation of the word “GIF”—before saying it out loud at your client meeting in 5 minutes And here are things Google cannot help you with, ever: Originality Creativity Discip Practice Experience Trial Error Finding your own fucking
Can we all just stop, already? Stop apologizing. Stop saying sorry. Stop shrinking into some small little ball-less version of yourself—you know, so you don’t make all the other ball-less twats feel uncomfortable. Or risk offending somebody. Or do something controversial. Or doing all of that and then totally screwing it up and feeling stupid. God forbid. I’m sick and tired of it. I’m sick of seeing you hesitate. Second guess yourself constantly. Smile weakly. FUCKING WILT. You’re wilting away
Agency. It was one of the first things my bo editor said to me. “These parts need agency.” And I obviously said: Like the CIA? And she said: Shoot me. And I said: Is that a CIA je? So while furiously drinking wine and researching this new writing foe—agency—I had been ighted to discover that this wasn’t some kind of polite euphemism to tell me that I was an absolute shit writer. But, it was a problem. Because lacking
There are two groups of people: Poets & killers. The poets are running around with their heart placed firmly on their sleeve, hoping that if they do authentic work, it’ll sell itself. The killers, on the other hand, are running around selling everything, none of which is actually authentic, nor genuine, nor useful. (We call these people “scam artists.”) Yet, neither one of these groups is going to make it. Truth is, you might be as authentic as they come, but
New life rule: If your mother is dead, DO NOT GET ON FACEBOOK ON MOTHER’S DAY. Not that it’s not pleasant to see the resemblance between every friend I’ve ever made and the woman that birthed her (THOSE EYES! THEY LOOK LIKE SISTERS!), but when you don’t have anyone to celebrate, and you’re not a mother yourself, you can end up feeling like everyone is having Christmas without you. In other words: Where the f*ck are my banana pancakes? Which is
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