Tag Archives: Freedom

It’s Friday.

Good Things ComeNot that it makes a difference in my world, the day of the week.  It’s something I find both extraordinary and expected.

And it’s the best of times, it’s the worst of times, this working for yourself.  I’m the one who sets the rules, the expectations, the hours, the results.

But from the outside-in, the unnerving aspect of any self-declared venture is this: the isolation is warm, cozy, and self-affirming.  The longer I work in my tree-top office, crunching the investment and cash-flow numbers, crafting business summaries and plans, perfecting presentations, chatting with a number of targeted partners, something strange happens.  Shaky confidence turns to insecure arrogance.  Good judgment shifts under megalomaniacal pressure.  Cravings for feedback deepen, yet the conditions to share lessen and the rules to listen grow in number and rigidity.  Inspiring people morphs to pushing people, lest they forget.

And this is all explained in a singular delusional phrase: I know I’m right.

Not believe.  Not feel.  I know.  True, hard, indisputable fact tangled in my brain, incessantly driving me to the next sunrise.

Is this passion?  The depth of joy and pain, the moments of surprise and frustration, is all one-sided.  it may better be described as insanity.  Pygmalion scorned all other women, all those fallible corporate gigs that provide steady benefits, comforts, and security – and fell hopelessly in love with his own sculpted creation.  Isn’t this the story of every bootstrapping entrepreneur?

Pygmalion’s myth ends happily – Aphrodite grants the stony figure warm-blooded life more than a decade after it’s inception, affirming it’s beauty (and resemblance to herself).  Another parallel to the entrepreneur, though this one with the infusion of cold hard cash following affirmation of its potential.  We’ve happily celebrated this delusion for multiple millennia, and to date, it shows little sign of decline.

This only affirms my own arrogance, of course.  A dangerous thing, but an essential component to push this big idea of mine to its full potential.

Maybe it will make it. Maybe it won’t.  But somehow, some way, I’ll inspire someone to affirm it’s beauty, it’s intelligence, and it’s power – and grant it life.

Who Says?

Franzen writes …”the one thing nobody can take away from you is the freedom to fuck up your life whatever way you want to.”

Mayer sings “who says I can’t be free from all the things I used to be – rewrite my history – who says I can’t be free?”

And as I sit here, quiet and comfortable in my city apartment, opportunity brightly (and insistently) knocking down my door, I find myself a smidge lonely.

It’s been a very long year.  And in nine months, I will turn 30.  And if there’s one thing these near thirty years has taught me, it’s worrisome independence and careful compromise.  I have very little tethering me, save for the ticking clock and its seemingly increasing tempo.  Days go by faster, no matter whether I think of you or anything else.  Nights occur in the blink of an eye regardless of whether I finish the tasks at my fingertips.  Plainly:  I’ve slowed down.

Perhaps for the better.  Certainly the angst that roiled inside of me has mellowed, aging into an increasingly complex wine, nipping each olfactory nerve, smoked fruits eliciting an inaudible (yet enjoyable) sigh.  Give it a few more years, the experts say.  Or at least another day, then another, then another.  Seems its better for me to take things one day at a time.

It’s freedom – and revolution – binding my mind.  Franzen’s treatise threw a book at the complexities, though mired in the inanities of present-tense American life, told primarily from those of “adults.”  Mayer’s opus echoes the inanities of present-tense American life, told primarily from those “transitioning.”  The difference?  How you wake up everyday – and when and why – and what happens next.

Stay tuned.