There’s an AWESOME new creative cocktail lounge in New York City called Coup. All of the profits are being donated to organizations being threatened or defunded by the current administration. Tips are donated, too. Guest bartenders are flying in from all over the world, no charge, to donate their services. And guess what? There are s out the door every night. Political statement or not, there’s something to be said about taking a stand. If your business is suffering, it might be
There’s a conflict between authority and earnestness. You want to be viewed as an expert…but you also want to be down-to-earth. You want people to respect you…but you also want to be relatable. You want to command high fees…but you also want to be accessible. Most people flip flop back and forth between these two extremes. They’re either all business—but missing any real connection—or they’re all earnestness—but missing the respect. But this isn’t a zero sum game. You don’t need
You don’t have to choose, you know. You can be intelligent…and sensual. Extroverted…and introverted. Complex…and simple. You…and someone who’s evolving into someone else. Sometimes, in an effort to finally define who the fuck we are, we start putting ourselves into the little boxes voluntarily—the same ones that we spent our earlier years trying to escape. It gives us relief, to be in a box. To have an identity. To know something with certainty. And to be able to say, with
“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.
Yesterday I stumbled across a website called—are you ready for this? Yoga For Bad People. Now, when you just read that, you either had one of two reactions: 1) Fucking it. 2) Not for me. And that is what the branding is meant to do—attract the people who will them, while actively repelling the people who won’t. Too often, we go to great lengths to attract, but not repel. We don’t like to tell anyone they don’t belong. (A knee
The men came with trucks. To the naked eye, they loed like movers. In and out they passed the length of the trailer, hurriedly, sweatily, carrying boxes upon boxes back and forth, like ants. “Can I get you an iced tea?” I asked. They gulped them down like dogs. I wanted them to like me. I didn’t know if they’d really be able to sell my mother’s pewter knickknacks at auction—nor her collection of John Grisham novels, her wooden end
So often, we make choices based on “what feels right for us.” To most people, that sounds like sage advice. You’re “being true to yourself,” after all. What we don’t consider, however, are the limitations. If you’re constantly making decisions based on who you are in this very moment, you don’t leave any room for who you want to become—or who you need to. Sometimes, you’ve got to do what DOESN’T feel right. Sometimes, you’ve got to say “fuck it”
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.
So today I placed my boobs into a giant, hospital-grade George Foreman grill and held my breath as the nurse to the X-ray. Let me tell you what, there is nothing quite like hoisting the flesh of your nipple onto a cold metal surface while a stranger watches. I mean, they’re definitely judging you. If not the size of your areolas, your dexterity. They’re there tapping their foot while you’re fuddling along with some necklace that never effing clasps when you want