#ohio #farm #land #america outta state and feeling grrreat.
the fact he did this song and the way it was done. just vocal and harp just underlines just HOW great stevie wonder is. with nothing to hide behind, his genius shines through. if you have never heard this do so NOW. every artist can learn from its brilliant simplicity.
Above is a commercial currently running for ‘Prudential’ titled ‘Do What You Love.’ Professor Daniel Gilbert poses the question ‘If you could get paid to do something you really love, what would you do.’ And then a vast array of ages, shapes, colors and sizes of people proceed to answer the question, each in their own unique way. First time I saw it, I thought ‘Excellent.’ This is a financial company really driving home the message of doing what you love. Figure out where you want to be and then map the steps to get there. A way that I have always tried to live my life. But then the punch-line of the commercial. ‘What if I told you someone could pay you to do what you love,’ he interjects ‘and that person is you.’
Turns out it’s a commercial promoting Prudential’s retirement funds.
This is the saddest commercial I have ever seen. It outdoes the Kodak ones in the 80s. Or any long distance phone company commercial. These bubbly, joyful, hopeful people are talking about what they would truly love to do .. and the thing is, it’s not ‘rule the world,’ or ‘build an estate on my own private island,’ or ‘build a giant pool then fill it with macaroni and cheese and then proceed to dive and swim in it.’ No. These hopeful, happy people just want to be architects, and teachers, and to fly planes. Professor Daniel Gilbert (who apparently IS doing what he loves and getting paid for it) is telling them .. and us, and you if you see it that if you invest and save your entire life then maybe .. as long as the market holds, and you don’t get caught in a ponze scheme or if you LIVE to retirement then hopefully, maybe by that time you will get to do the thing that you have wanted to do for your entire life.
What truly makes this commercial sad is not the proposition but the way in which it reflects the realities of most. They wouldn’t be airing it if it didn’t. This is the antithesis of Buddhist philosophy. It is living for the ‘then.’ Not only are you told to disregard your current but you are told to postpone your dreams until they are ‘feasible.’ And not only that, but place the execution of those dreams in the hands of a giant financial institution. That’s another piece. I read the biography of one of Coca Cola’s most fledgling CEOs, Roberto Goizueta. He spent his adult life rising up the ranks through Coca Cola to finally achieve his dream status then promptly croaked from the cancer that a life of smoking cigarettes had given him.
People. Your time is limited. Whether you live a long or short life, at some point it ends. And you most likely won’t know when. Don’t listen to Daniel Gilbert. He already gets paid to do what he loves. Ok, swimming in a sea of macaroni and cheese may require some financial planning yes. But getting paid to do what you love? It doesn’t have to … SHOULDN’T have to wait until the next day. My message to you is WAKE UP! Don’t look to other people to tell you what you are supposed to do because at the end of the day there is only one person you will have to answer to.
reunion show w OVM after yeeeaarrs. beyond excited for this. BE THERE !! (free show) #nyc #hiphop #les @pianosnyc #newyork #boston #music #flier #2014 #fullcircle
THIS. jan2.2014 LIVE at @arlenesgrocery #songs #music #live #nyc #les #new #year #fresh #stanton #show
On my way off the grid last week I picked up a book that I hadn’t even known existed: ‘Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson.’ Perfect reading material for airplanes and beaches, I thought. An inspirational and informative story about what happens when genius strikes. Now, 3 days back from our Dominican excursion, I am pretty far into the story. Coincidentally, I am also in the market for a new computer. The g4 that I have produced my last decade of music on is finally ready to be put out to pasture (in my closet). Throughout my time with it I saw RAM capability multiply, Hard Drive space balloon, and newer and newer machines engorged with gigs for less and less come on to the market. What was $2500 several years ago can now not be given away.
Buying a computer today, more so than ever, is a dizzying, manic, obsessive, restless and thrilling experience. I woke up at 1.30 this morning with i5 and i7 and SSD and GBs and Fusion Drives and Firewire and USB and OSX 10-point-whatever swirling through my head. Swimming in new terms, and awesome potential, and endless compatibility combinations and concerns. Ready to plop down what I had to for what I wanted, but ultra cautious to make the right move. I felt like I was shopping for a rock (again). At least with a diamond, there aren’t weekly geological breakthroughs which make the s1 you bought last year worth a 20th of its value this year. Similarly though, i5 to i7 or s1 to s2 or HDD to SSD can mean the difference of literally thousands of dollars.
I was obviously playing catch-up. The iMacs that I had regarded 4 years ago as the cutting edge were now going for $200 and the computer that Steve Jobs had dreamed of in 1980 was here .. amazing power in the size of a book: the Mac Mini. Technology being referred to as a ‘wave’ is nothing new, nor are there many better metaphors for it. I felt like I did as a kid: with Chris Aburime, in Rhode Island, paddling our boogie boards to catch the swell just right. Apparently up until this week I had been sitting on the sand (literally and figuratively .. DR remember?). I was wading through years of OS updates and Pro Tools versions from crippling issue to glorious resolution. I could feel some confidence coming. Things started to connect. Decisions were forming … slowly. Though unsteady, I was riding the wave. Balancing the current. The new. The breakthroughs and updates. The future!
I was pushing to catch up on all of the latest so much so that I didn’t even notice when I went right over the wave and smacked into a wall (see end of Truman Show for visual). Maverick is not compatible with Pro Tools 11. Or, who knows, maybe by the time I put this up it will be. My point is, I realized: There is a technology sweet spot. It is constantly moving with exponential innovation. However, those who are on the frontier .. getting the latest and newest, are also those who are running into compatibility issues and bugs and all of those fun things that just make our days such a pleasure. On the other end you had me: well oiled machine (my computer not myself) working great, but couldn’t run iTunes or even plug a USB mic in because the OS and supporting functions were so old.
As Gigabytes converge to Terabytes and Duos merge to Quads, we take basic functionality for granted. The incredible evolution and development and collaborations that took place just to conceive the first, fully-integrated, personal computer are now history. In a race to balance cost with need (a term used loosely in this context), and evolution with functionality, most of us seek to stand on the edge of innovation without falling over it.
So there I was .. hauling it down Park avenue south. After seeing three 6 trains pull into 33rd street station, cram packed with shirt-and-tie sardines, I had hopped back out thru the turnstile gates to walk to the L. Straight shot down Park Ave. A nice night. Why not. So as I said .. there I was .. hauling it down Park ave South to Union Square (14th street) to catch the L home. Not hauling as if I was in a rush to get anywhere but home but more so hauling it like most New Yorkers because time spent between where you were and where you are getting to may as well go by fast as possible. But I digress.
As I passed 23rd street (my halfway mark) I checked my time so that I could then project my time passed into future and project arrival time at the L. Why? No good reason. Just how this city makes you. I was pushing through a confused happy-hour gang, onto my next block and who did I see? Anthony Weiner. Swear. Walking with what I guess is his kid, into what I suppose was his apartment. Wouldn’t have even recognized him if his face weren’t so .. well, recognizable. He was kind of scrubby, in shorts and a t-shirt or polo .. curly hair not slick or done. Just dry and kind of messy. I thought to myself .. ‘Wow! That’s Anthony Weiner!’ The center of such scandal. The focus of so many news expose’s and the seller of so many newspapers and magazines and former contender for .. well anyway. His reputation precedes him. I blew past, with no desire to engage him in conversation about what he was up to now? Or, to ask him what it was like to be the focus (and cause) of such scandal? Or, how for fucks sake did he have the wherewithal to try running again as if we could forget what got him into hot water in the first place? I know, … Bill Clinton. Not the same thing. Not by a longshot.
As I got further from him and closer to where I was going and was still thinking about this troubled (and infamous) political figure, I thought about how there he was .. strolling about on Park Avenue South .. not with shades, or a hat, or any disguise of any kind. And there New York was .. buzzing around him, like me. Going about their business with no desire to engage him or even acknowledge his presence. I then thought (having lived in quite a few cities) this is something uniquely New York. This exact experience is WHY some of the most famous/recognizable people in the world live here. Yea there is the opulence, the opportunities, the chic of having a ‘NYC’ address .. but this city is populated by people who could live anywhere in the world yet choose this hectic, expensive-as-hell, polluted, and don’t get it twisted .. still dangerous, city.
Since living here, I have seen several ‘famous’ people and the reaction (or lack thereof) is always the same. Comparatively, I saw Quest Love in Boston, and there was literally a LINE of people waiting to approach him. As I stood in that line (yea, sorry, had to do it) I thought how different it would have been in New York. People in New York are, what I refer to as, Chronically Unimpressed. You’re walking around with a bird on your head. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs about the end of the world while smearing peanut butter on your face and spitting. (yes, I have seen this). Big fucking deal buddy .. we have places to be and other things far more pressing than your stupid ass to focus on.
It’s a feeling we all get from being here. The only way that a city so pack-jammed with people can sometimes feel lonely. Nobody cares. Not in a bad way. More so everybody here has seen everything. And if they haven’t, they are influenced in moments by all who surround them (see. Lemmings theory). It is just one more thing that makes New York New York .. the most famous – AS MEASURED BY both by its sites and ITS people, surrounded by ALL the OTHER people who leave THOSE PEOPLE alone – city in the world.
The other day I was whizzing along on my spiffy new iPhone 5. Jumping between apps. Checking mail. Updating my thoughts on things and the like when all of a sudden something went haywire. I must have mis-swiped because the phone lost its mind. A voice came on to narrate my every action, and everything I touched created an outline instead of selecting. The robot woman told me everything I was doing as I was doing it. Even when the phone rang she read off what number was reaching out to me. And while I was on the phone her madness didn’t stop. I couldn’t end the call. The person on the other end was witnessing a true iPhone meltdown in progress. As she spoke on, my display flashed, buzzed, and flickered. Finally I held the top button down long enough to bring an end to the madness. I breathed deep. Seriously folks, in the scheme of things this is a glitch on the scale. However it was frustrating. And in a moment of panic (the person on the other line end calling to discuss a Real Estate deal so it was actually a serious and potentially lucrative call) I felt like a helpless kid. I felt like I was a kid and my toy was broken and I didn’t know how to fix it. Helpless to turn off the robot lady or the other weird and automated features which I still don’t understand the purpouse of. There I was: an adult. Discussing a business deal. With my sophisticated block of technology. In nice clothes. Feeling like a 9 year-old with a broken toy.
Adults are kids. We always hear about how offices are click-y alla high school. And how shopping is really just satisfying your inner child. And inner children. But I’m talking literally. And I’ll tell you exactly why. Shortly after my phone incident I went to Starbucks. I was standing in line and looking at the pastries and cake pops and ‘whole grain’ treats. I started looking at all of the different, delicious options. Then I looked at the line: chock full of upstanding, tax paying, well-dressed, and responsible … children. The excitement this woman was trying so hard to conceal when she ordered a Caramel Machhiato and a brownie. The thrill of having desert for breakfast, and it’s ok because not only is it ‘coffee’ .. it is also natural in some way. Or maybe sourced from somewhere that has something to do with keeping the environment healthy or organic or some shit. The line swayed as the brave cashiers herded these eager ‘adults’ into a more formal line. Like a teacher lining kids up in front of a building before recess, they obeyed. They knew that treats soon awaited.
Adults are children and the funniest thing to me is that adults HAVE children. We (not me personally, yet, but as a part of this group) have kids and raise them and impart our knowledge and wisdom to them and deny them dessert before dinner. Or late-night TV. Or the use of recreational drugs (hopefully at least not until the teen years), or sex, or for girls .. dressing too ‘adult.’ We could go on forever. Kids: adults generally know more than you because they have BEEN through more. They have made mistakes and have hopefully learned from them and so this is the wisdom they impart to you. But when it comes down to it, NOBODY has the ANSWER. And it’s hilarious to me how now, as an adult when I see us craving for and indulging in the very things that we could never have as kids. Perfect example: why do you think that Jordans, at $200+ retail can’t stay on the shelves? Or Air Maxes, or the entire ‘RETTRO’ catalogue from Air-Bo’s to Pumps to you name it. These are the things we couldn’t have (or couldn’t afford, or didn’t get enough of) as kids. It’s the same reason why, going back a generation earlier, Beatles memorabilia goes for such insane money. Baby-Boomers now with investment accounts, Real Estate holdings and grandchildren still get giddy over what they dreamt of owning 50 years prior.
And so as I stroll the streets of one of the biggest, nastiest, hardest, and amazing cities in the world and see all of these driven, serious, disciplined, accomplished, and sometimes filthy rich ‘Adults,’ I laugh to myself. I think about the kids that they actually are; separated by a little height, a few more experiences, a couple of pounds, and a few wrinkles. We’re out here living it up and getting away with being ‘GrownUp’
Do you remember back in ‘02? The false declaration of Gore as the new President of the United States? Then ‘whoops.’ Then something about misinterpreted results and an embarrassing retraction. Overzealous reporters gulping from incorrect sources then spouting ‘results’ to all national-broadcast-onlookers. For moments like these I recall that the NEWS isn’t only who is telling it. It is the writer, the producer, the camera (people), the cast of characters directing what is shot and how it is seen .. all the way to the fact checkers, the hoards of interns paying their dues with dreams of some day being in the place of those they currently fetch breakfast pastries and Macchiatos for. A lot goes behind (and into) the face of the news. Then you have network owners. Associations with larger companies that are generally irrelevant to the task of collecting and reporting the latest yet, unoquivically influential to the process (see. Fox to Murdock or NBC to GE). All of this, however, is just the set up. The backdrop. The state of affairs in this current ‘information age.’ The reason I am writing today is because of something I saw on TODAY .. well, today.
I should clarify. It wasn’t ‘something’ I saw on TODAY. It was a couple of things happening at the same time in different places within the same broadcast. An unfortunate combination. TODAY is a bit of late-riser, iced-coffee, pre-commute entertainment that I afford myself. Said broadcast featured a medical correspondant, Dr. Nancy Sneiderman who was reporting on the remarkable story of a couple that had been trying to conceive a child for some time now and finally, through the amazing advances in medicine had a shot! The story was about IVF (which as I learned stands for In Vitro Fertilization) which offered a viable option. A Dr -an expert on the procedure (lets call him Dr. IVF) was in the lab – explaining to Dr. Nancy just how he would conduct the procedure. She explained to us, ‘shortly – and for the first time on live television, you will see a LIVE IVF conception.’ Amazing where science has brought us. The back story on the couple went on to discuss how an IVF could cost upwards of 17K and had no guarantees but offered a good chance for those in a situation such as theirs – a great option. As Dr IVF was preparing his lab for the first ever, LIVE TV test-tube-conception the scene shifted back to the TODAY studio. The next story was about Burger King. Fair enough.
Burger King is obviously one of the most ‘popular’ restaurants in the world so what happens here probably means a lot to a lot of people. I sipped my iced-coffee and watched on. Apparently, there is a new Crinkle-Cut French fry to be released (or that has been released) that is 20% better for you than their current offering. Exactly what ‘20% better for you’ means I have no idea. Also, I seriously couldn’t give a shit but again. I get it. Burger King: popular ‘restaurant,’ providing daily meals to many – millions of people. And nowadays who isn’t looking to shed some pounds eh? Before I had a chance to fully digest all the potential ramifications of this Fast-Food breakthrough and just how sweepingly it would affect so many people, the scene shifted back to the babies .. or to be more specific, lack thereof. You know, the IVF story. The young couple with high hopes and Dr. IVF doing his damndest to help them. Also, we can’t forget Dr. Nancy covering the drama live as it unfolded. What happened next was interesting. Interesting and disgusting. Interesting, disgusting and slightly upsetting. Matt and Al and the TODAY show crew happened to be sampling this new Crinkle-Cut health craze as the IVF story was unfolding. They were commenting on how delicious and warm they were. The fries. In short order (before or after, I can’t remember) the screen showed a microscopic magnification of the needle injecting sperm into the fertile egg. The TODAY show stars munched on.
I thought about trans-fat and hormones. About Egg follicles and Crinkle-Cuts. About what Burger King put into these wonders of cuisine to make them ‘20% healthier’ for you and exactly what the fuck that even meant. I thought about infertile people. And about Dr. IVF and Dr. Nancy and live coverage of conception .. albeit in a test tube. I thought about how the TODAY team commented on how ‘warm’ the fries still were and that maybe they were baked instead of fried and then I thought about a ‘bun in the oven’ and I all of a sudden felt a little queezy. I don’t know if the good and clever folks over at NBC’s TODAY show were trying to work a ‘light’ story in with a heavy one? Or, if they just didn’t think about how these two stories at the same time might make a 7.20am iced-coffee drinker a little uneasy in the stomach. Or even how this may prompt us to question people. Humans. Media. Innocent hopes and dreams and fat loss. Fast food and Conception (or lack thereof, at least for the time being) and things in the oven.
Since it was time to go I got up and clicked off the TV. I headed out the door and started for my train. I then did something that, in afterthought, both totally surprises me and totally doesn’t. I forgot about it all. Completely. I started thinking about my day. About what I had to do. About what I wanted to do later. About some new music I was working on. About me. I forgot all about our hopeful young couple conceiving in a dish on ‘LIVE’ TV. About Dr. IFV and Dr. Nancy covering the drama as it unfolded, and about Matt and Al and whoever else was in studio 1A this morning. I wonder if we can watch newscasters eat low-fat French fries while injecting test tube eggs with modified swimmers (forgot to mention, they CLIP their tails before inserting them into the egg) because we have become accustomed to gulping a coffee, a story, and then starting for the train.
I know its been a while and for those who care im sorry. Im returning after stopping life for 3 months. Several months ago I had a fairly lucrative Real Estate job, a consistent show schedule, and many evening and weekend plans. I was also waking up with (at least what felt like) panic attacks. I wasn’t sleeping. I kept gaining weight and couldn’t figure out exactly why. I was lusting for the life I had had as a bartender .. more active, less work, more human connections. Healther – or so I felt.
My first thought was to go be a real estate agent in New York City. It is an easy job to get because they don’t pay you anything. You make a sizeable commission on whatever you are able to rent. This, I felt, would be ideal because I could make my own schedule. I would be out and about in the city being active and meeting with people. If I ever had a music thing come up (or any other obligation), because I made my own schedule I would have no conflict. Turns out, summer in New York City is hell on earth: not a comment on morality just the temperature. Also, it’s a hustle. Yes, people need apartments. And, yes you have what they need, but the ability to bridge the gap between somebody’s expectations and reality is nothing short of an artform. Not to mention, working with clients who have been repeatedly burned by brokers and trying to mend a broken past before even considering building a future or godforbid closing a deal. So there I was, tirelessly roaming the streets of New York City in a nice shirt and dress pants … both of which stuck to me – plastered by a healthy layer of sweat that covered my body consistently. Trying to stay cool. I had had it. This is not for me. There has to be a better way to make a living in this crazy city. Oh, also that whole thing about making your own schedule: getting a deal done hinges on your willingness to answer the phone at 11pm or meet with a client on a Sunday at 9am so yes, you decide when you work but if you plan on being successful you must DECIDE to be working all the time (at least to begin with) and I never got there.
Back at home, licking my wounds and imagining what my ideal dream-job would be I thought back on my life. My loves. My pursuits. First off, fuck selling beats. I mean, take the money when it comes but to assume that business as a means of survival? I know people do .. not my forte. My other love: fashion. I used to take classes in Boston and always loved expensive shit. Days spent browsing at Barneys. Outlets. Outfits. Perfect let’s do fashion. After the urging from pretty much everybody I knew NOT to do fashion I promptly started applying to fashion jobs. I had meetings with Saks, Barneys, Bloomingdales, Ralph Lauren, a bevy of smaller NYC companies and there I was. Pursuing my dream. Fashion! Why didn’t I go after this sooner? If I could have known the key to my happiness was as simple as changing course I would have done this so much sooner. I networked. I reached out. I dreamt. It was brilliant. I followed up. I planned. I fantasized. I got an education. I soon learned that what everybody who surrounded me - that I loved and trusted, those who had warned me about shit pay in the fashion industry were right. Like music, fashion seeks interns. Assistants. Stipend recipients in need of college credit. Kids who have rent covered so CAN live in New York City and work for free until an entry level position opens up – at which point they are able to almost afford groceries. Fashion 1. Me 0.
Not to be deterred I thought harder about my past. About what I have done in the past that made me happy. About times in my life when I was happy and what I was doing for work then. The answer was simple. I can’t believe I didn’t see it from the beginning. Bartending! Yea it was a grind. Yes, nights were late and guests were impatient. Sure, not being a girl with large breasts made many bartending opportunites in this city not even a consideration. However! This is the city of Mixology. Of classic cocktails. Of male bartenders with facial hair and suspenders carefully jiggering vermouth and other exotic anisettes. I would just have to make it my everything. My focus. And I KNEW that I could get back in the game here in this amazing city. Rent’s due. It’s fine .. before you know it I’ll be slinging those drinks and cashing in. I’ll keep a wad in my sock drawer and peel of a couple of bills for city expenses on my days off. It will be so much simpler. All I have to do is show up, bust my ass, and then come home and with the cash. Also, I can work three nights a week and have all of the rest of it for my music. Brilliant. And just as I knew I could, I landed an awesome job working at this poolhall in Flatiron. It was laid back. It was fun. I was busy from the start but nothing more than I could handle and I couldn’t believe how my experience from years ago came back instantly. I loved everybody I worked with there. Training went smashing. Here I am, standing at the cusp of my future. It’s so exciting can’t you feel it? And at the end of my first (real/full) night working .. there I was. Standing on the platform at 6am. Waiting for the L train home which must have been somewhere lost in Canarsie because it sure as hell wasn’t anywhere near 6th avenue. After getting to sleep at 8am, and then taking the next day and a half to recover, I realized that this just wasn’t going to work. I had worked a 14 hour shift and after confirming with my sock drawer had walked with a cool $150.
Beat. Spent. Cashed in. I had gone for every conceivable dream job I could muster. And nothing. I had had the balls to step out of an extremely comfortable situation to weather the city and hopefully land in greener pastures. However, I felt like I was trudging through mud and shit. Everything that had seemed possible was now exhausted. Everywhere I had seen myself was now just a dream, in a bubble, floating off into the shitty air of this big, nasty, hulking city that instead of chewing you up and spitting you out would just assume swallow you whole and spit you UP. Oh yea, and I’m getting married in 3 months did I forget to mention that? Con Ed is calling. Time Warner is calling. Freda just at the rest of her dogfood and now sits on our pergo floor starring at me with her head cocked seeming to express a ‘what now, motherfucker? Mama’s gotta eat.’
I seethed under the pressure of reality. I laid through restless nights and anxiety days. All this free time and I couldn’t think of stepping into my studio because my brain was on craigslist and ‘Eat Drink Jobs,’ and I couldn’t excuse my body from being anywhere besides. At least until I had something.
I called a good friend of mine who has been responsible for many of my jobs over the past decade. I asked her if she had any ideas and she did. The poetic justice of it all is it was a job doing EXACTLY what I had run from in the first place. But that this point, there was no more time for exploring ‘passion.’ There was no more room for chasing fantasy. It was time to buckle down and scare up some cheese. It was time to slow down. To put one Cole Haan shoe’d foot in front of the other and step back into life. And let me tell you, it felt amazing. ‘How,’ you may ask ‘ can doing the same exact thing you detested now feel so great.’ I thought back on all of my exciting, and ultimately directionless experiences over the past few months and wondered how this new beginning could be so different from old ruts. While not at work I thought about this. I wrote about it. I spoke with the people who had warned about fashion jobs .. about it. I came to one conclusion. It was the same unrest that led me from Boston, to New York, to LA, to Boston, back to New York. Wherever you go, there you are. Changing scenes alone will not make you happy, but being grateful for where you are and what you have will.
With that said, welcome back to my tumblr. See you again soon.
1 WK FRM 2NITE! my #bday #show #live #music #bk #spikehill #hiphop #liveshow #nyc #brooklyn #flier #birthday #fresh #presale
PLEASE VOTE AT SKIPPW.COM AS MANY TIMES AS YOU CAN/WISH. AND PLEASE FWD/SHARE. THANK YOU.
IT SUCKS BEING BROKE #5AM
Been really digging this BK by way of Boston MC, Skipp Whitman’s 5AM album since I started checking it out yesterday. Skipp handles all the completely original (no sample) production himself and it is impeccable. Vocally he reminds me of the homie, D-sisive at times and a little bit of friend of The Kitchen, T.Shirt as well but overall, this is kind of fresh to my ears. I digs! What about y’all??
If you like what you hear and you’re in the NYC area, Skipp has a show at Arelene’s Grocery in the LES tomorrow evening:
it’s not supposed to be easy because if it was, everybody would be doing it. and just when you think you got it. just when you think you have figured it out. you realize. you have no idea what you’re doing and you are now one bit smarter than before: enlightened in knowing that you now know less than you thought you did a moment ago. there’s a reason why most people don’t try this, correction, DO this.
people will tell you you don’t have STAY power, and that you don’t know what you’re doing or saying and you know what? they’re right. but guess what: we’re all the same so that’s a bit broad of a thing to say about someone don’t you think?
remember when you thought adults had all the answers? and then you became one?
THE biggest fear in my life (more than death) is to wind up somewhere i didn’t mean to go. to look back at that road and think shit, where did we turn. or where were we so focused on looking ahead that we MISSED the turn.
and you feel the same way. you do because we all do. we all must or else the ‘sales’ profession wouldn’t be a profession. nobody wants to miss IT. the grass is always greener. we’re keeping up with the … yea.
and just when you think you got it. you realize it must have slipped out of your hands like a greasy pig at a bacon factory because when you open them up and look there’s nothing in there. just a taste of what you thought you had and a trail leading to where you think it may have gone.
what other choice is there but to keep going? caught somewhere between chasing and running from. still frame snap shot frozen in time and put behind glass for everybody to see.
Still, when OTHERS look at you they will inevitably say ‘man, he has it all.’