[Warning: Slight political rant here today.]

Light.

It’s one of those things we can’t do without, y’know? Over the centuries of human existence, light has become culturally synonymous with enlightenment, clarity, and all things positive.

Darkness, on the other hand, is equated with fear, obfuscation, and secrets.

Maybe that’s because light is so useful in revealing that which is not clearly seen. For instance…

Early Morning in Downtown Houston

I was downtown Houston a few weeks ago for a seminar. It was on the 4^th floor in a rather nice hotel next to the Convention Center (that unusual-looking building you see in this photo).

Since the traffic situation was a big fat unknown to me, I decided to go fairly early. (I live in Tomball, a small town on the outskirts of NW Houston – a drive of about 40 miles.) As usual, leaving earlier meant ‘way less traffic, so that was good. On the other hand, I got there so early it was still about an hour and a half before the seminar started.

To kill some time I spent an hour or so watching the sun rise and shooting a few photos in Discovery Green Park, a small park right across the street from the hotel. (You’ll no doubt hear more about the Park in future posts, but if you’re interested, you can check out some of the photos I took here.)

Anyway, just before the seminar started, I was helping myself to something from the breakfast buffet (don’t worry; it was healthy stuff – promise!) when I happened to glance out the window. Or to be more painfully accurate, I glanced at the window.

Yuck!

I mean to tell ya; it was disgusting! It looked like… well, forget the descriptive; you can see for yourself. The morning sunlight had dramatically illuminated the dirt on this window to the point where it was almost all I could see!

Needless to say, if you folks from the hotel staff are listening, I think you might want to invest in a bottle of Windex and a big ol’ bucket of elbow grease. (There’s even a convenient ledge upon which to stand – just, um,  don’t step back to admire your work! Just sayin’.)

The Power of Light

Yep; no doubt about it, light can be a pretty powerful tool when it comes to revealing stuff.

You can use light to find something lost. The other day, Mrs. MZM dropped a tiny little pill on the rug in our bathroom. Now, you’d think something like that would be pretty easy to find, right? I mean, the rug ain’t that big! But no, because of its color, it simply blended into the rug. So I turned on a flashlight and held it down low, parallel to the floor. Sure enough, the shadow of the pill gave it away! Voila!

Have you ever tried to convince someone to do something – but it was based on, perhaps, shaky logic? No need to raise your hand, my friends; we’ve all done it, haven’t we? I mean, from childhood (it wasn’t me, Mom!) it’s been a long succession of attempts to convince folks I knew what I was talkin’ about.

And what about (sound of terrified scream) politics? How many times has one politician after another made a statement – or ten – that simply didn’t hold up under the application of a little light on the subject? I mean, what’s with that, anyway? And what’s even sillier – they actually get upset when you do it, too! As if they were tryin’ to, y’know, put something over on us…

I mean, take the fracas over Health Care that’s goin’ on here in the U.S. (please!) You’ve got folks on both sides talkin’ as loud as they can, tryin’ to convince you they’re right and the other guy is wrong. Hey, I say we drag out the light and let’s take a look at it!

Does it do this, or that, or even that other thing? With just a little examination, we can find out for ourselves just what it says. Why be afraid of reading it, y’know? And why do they object to us reading it, I wonder?

All I’m sayin’ is, light can be a most powerful tool when it comes to discovering something fundamental – like the truth. And when folks start objecting to its use, well Bubba, don’cha find yourself wonderin’ just what exactly they’ve got to hide?

I’m just sayin’.

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Too Close For Comfort

Sometimes important lessons lurk in the most innocuous places, y’know?

Take a look at this photo, for instance. Don’t worry; no marauding alligators lurking in here this time! Nope, this time it’s just a… (sound of terrified scream) spice rack.

Let’s see… ya got your ground cinnamon, a large can of sea salt, one of those rectangular cans of nutmeg, a little tiny (yet somehow, ridiculously expensive) bottle of vanilla extract…

But here’s the deal. Right next to the ground cinnamon on the top rack there’s a bottle of chili powder. Anyone see the danger? I mean, it’s a bottle of cinnamon (ooh, sweet!) right next to an almost-identical bottle of (aack!) chili powder!

Can you say “catastrophe”?

They Say It’s the Thought That Counts

Let’s say, as a surprise for my beloved Mrs. MZM, I decided to make a nice, hot batch of chocolate-chip cookies. (Unfortunately, thanks to the diet we’re on, this is only an imaginary scenario. *sigh*) Now I ask you; what’s the absolute best thing to top a big ol’ plate of fresh-baked cookies? You guessed it – a light dusting of ground cinnamon! (I’m tellin’ ya, folks – even as I write this, my tummy is doin’ somersaults!)

But lemme ask ya: What if I were to accidentally grab the chili powder instead of the cinnamon? Hey, it’s not so far-fetched – they’re right there next to each other, y’know? Can you picture the potential for disaster?

An Evening Filled With Promise

Now, imagine the Mrs. and I are parked on the bear skin rug in front of the fireplace for a nice, romantic evening. (By the way, we don’t actually have a bear skin rug. But it makes a nice scene, don’cha think? Besides, I don’t think I could stand having the thing stare at me accusingly, y’know?)

Anyhoo – the lights are low; there’s a candle or two lit for ambiance. A couple of glasses of chilled sparkling water fizz quietly on the table, their gently rising bubbles catching the candlelight provocatively. The sweet sounds of gentle jazz on the sound system soothes the day’s stress away.

Now for a final surprise, I bring out my just-baked batch of cookies for that little extra “somethin’special”. Mrs. MZM’s eyes light up in delight at the unexpected treat. She smiles delightedly as she reaches for a still-warm golden delight and gently places it upon her tongue.

- then her eyes grow wide in shock as she begins to violently choke! Do ya think the accidental use of chili powder instead of cinnamon might, well, ruin the mood? Yup; pretty much like that iceberg sank the Titanic!

Pay Attention!

Anyhoo – my point is, there’s little surprises like this one all over the place. I mean, life if full of ‘em, y’know? So what’s a body to do? Hey, there’s actually a pretty simple solution: you just gotta pay attention.

How many times have you suddenly discovered you’ve been on autopilot for the last 10 minutes while your brain took a short holiday and wandered around on its own? It usually happens when you’re doing something you’ve done a thousand times before, like driving to work, or watching the weather. (Here’s a typical conversation at our house immediately after the weather forecast: “Dear, what did he say the weather was going to be like tomorrow?” “I don’t know, Honey, my mind wandered off for a minute and I missed it.”)

So consider this a friendly little reminder, y’all! Pay attention to the stuff around you – especially the small stuff! Hey, you never know when a seemingly insignificant detail could make a really, really BIG difference! Just sayin’.

What About YOU?

So when was the last time you narrowly avoided a disaster of epic proportions by noticing a seeming “small” detail? What was it, and how did you manage to catch yourself before something, um, undesired happened? Did you learn anything from it?

Enquiring minds want to know!

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I’ll tell ya; I was watching the national (U.S.) news last week, and I couldn’t help but stare in awestruck wonder (sorta like the same way you just can’t tear your eyes away from a train wreck) by the absolutely ridiculous linguistic gyrations being paraded out for us by a supposedly smart woman. Now c’mon, y’all; wasn’t that the most insultingly convoluted attempt at circumlocution you’ve ever seen? (It’s funny how dangerous things always travel in packs, ain’t it? Lessee… there’s a pack of wolves, a pack of cigarettes… oh, and a pack of lies..)

Why is it, I wondered, when we do something dumb, the very first impulse always seems to be something along the lines of ‘at all costs, avoid responsibility and deny everything’?

But forget about U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (who has now managed to usurp Bill Clinton’s spot as the poster child for that sort of thing) and the big, giant pickle she’s gotten herself into, I actually asked that question because of something that happened to yours truly the other day.

In fact, the reason this subject comes up at all is, well, I guess the best thing is to go ahead and confess to it right up front: My name is Robert, and I’m a (sound of anguished scream) cookie-killer. Go ahead, bring on the handcuffs; I’ll go quietly, officer.

See, it was like this…

It’s Snackin’ Time!

The other evening, Mrs. MZM and I were winding down from a rather strenuous day of… well, whatever the heck we do all day. Now, we’d just snuggled into our favorite spot on the couch when she looked up at me and said “Want something?”

I knew what she meant, of course. After all, when you’ve been married for 27 years, spending that much time together means at least some of our conversations have been honed down to a nub, if you get my meanin’. My stomach, knowing exactly what she meant, immediately perked up and gronked in reply.

After a brief discussion of the options (no need to repeat it here; our brand of shortspeak probably wouldn’t make all that much sense to you anyway) the judge’s decision, by a considerable margin, was: cookies!

Now don’t get me wrong, y’all; “having” cookies around our house ain’t that easy! I mean, it’s not like our pantry is loaded up with the things. And we’ve never been a big fan of those store-bought packages, either – none of those pre-baked, vacuum-bagged pretenders for us! (Mrs. MZM requires me to mention one exception: Girl Scout Thin Mints.)

Nope; around our house, when thoughts turn to cookies, we have to actually, y’know, bake ‘em ourselves. Well, to be honest – something we always strive for here at the Zone – we use those pre-made cookie dough things you keep in the fridge and just pop on a cookie sheet. Hey, we’re not total purists around here; too much work.

Anyhoo – hey, we have cookie-preparation down to a science around here: preheat the oven, carefully place the little doughballs (chocolate chip for the Mrs., and Oatmeal Raisin for me – both enhanced with a touch of cinnamon) on a cookie sheet, pop ‘em in the oven, set the timer, and… wait.

(That last is always the hardest part, isn’t it? The delicious smell of cinnamon quickly grows so powerful, by the time they’re actually ready to eat you’re practically gnawing on the furniture.)

The Call of the Wild (Cookie, that is)

Finally (!) that little timer thing on the oven lets off with it’s characteristic (and by the way, quite annoying) electronic signal. C’mon, admit it – it’s sorta like the Call of the Wild, ain’t it? And just like Pavlov’s dogs, at the sound of the tone my mouth instantly began watering in anticipation as I catapulted outta the couch like I was launched from an aircraft carrier calmly stood up and went to the kitchen to retrieve our little golden delights (surreptitiously smoothing over those unsightly chew marks on the sofa).

Here’s where the crucial event occurs. (Better gird your loins for this, folks; it ain’t pretty.)

I picked up a hot pad, opened the oven door (while inhaling the sweet, delicious aroma of hot, fresh-baked cookies – YUM!), grabbed a corner of the piping hot cookie sheet, pulled ‘em out of the oven, and proceeded to dump the whole shebang – cookie-side down, mind you – smack dab on the floor!

WHAP!

The sharp metallic sound of metal on tile reverberated around the kitchen for a few moments, then… a stunned silence filled the void. (Insert moment of stunned silence here.)

Yeah, I know; you’re probably as shocked I was at this appalling turn of events. I’m tellin’ ya; my heart just about stopped! It was an absolute travesty. It was criminal. It was… like in that movie The Day the Earth Stood Still, when the Earth, y’know, stood still. I half expected to look up and see ol’ Gort shaking his big, metallic head in dismay as he prepared to laser me into oblivion.

After about 5 seconds of this, Mrs. MZM’s voice wafted gently in from the other room, an ominous tone clearly detectable: “Did what I think happen – just happen?”

Uh-oh.

My panicky brain started to flounder as the connection between it and my tongue momentarily broke down. For a few seconds, the recurring phrase sense of impending doom was the only thing that circled through my poor befuddled mind. The flight reflex instinctively rose from its deep, dark lair, while sweat began to bead upon my troubled brow.

To top it off – and I kid you not – I distinctly remember thinking, Now, how can I plausibly claim, ‘It’s not my fault’?

Time to Pay the Piper

OK, rhetorical question here (which does not mean something Rhett Butler would have asked):

Have you ever done something stupid? Oh, I’m not just talkin’ about murdering a tray of poor, defenseless cookies; I mean, have you ever done something dumb and then immediately thought to yourself, Now how on Earth could I have ever done such a bone-headed thing?

No; no need to raise your hand or anything. I’d say the chance of anyone NOT pulling a boner at least once in their lifetime is roughly on the order of, well, that of ol’ Adam and Eve convincing God it “wasn’t them” who took the apple off that Tree of Life . After all, who else could it have been, y’know?

But what surprised me most was that little reflex thought that scampered through my brain. In spite of the clear and undisputable facts, right? I mean, there was no way I could deny that it was, y’know, my fault. The evidence, after all, was right there on the floor for all to see. (OK, it was just me and Mrs. MZM – and no, there is no, er, surviving photographic evidence.) There was absolutely no way to credibly deny it was me, and me only, that did the low-down dirty deed.

So what did I do? Well, own up, of course! Hey, I just never quite got a good grip on the edge of the cookie sheet as I lifted it out of the oven, with the inevitable result. End of story.

Almost.

The Rest of the Story

OK, by now you’re probably wondering if I’ve been sent up the river to do hard time by a jury of my peers, and I’m writin’ this post with a little tiny stub of a No.2 pencil on a long sheet of toilet paper smuggled into my dingy cell. So what sentence, you’re sayin’ to yourself, did Mrs. MZM throw at you for ruining a perfectly good snack?

Actually, she was remarkably cool and collected about the whole thing. (I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: What a woman!) In fact, after collecting the bodies of the dear departed and sharing a moment of silence (not to mention a tear or two), she even helped me clean up the mess. Later, humor – and practicality – won out, of course: we immediately baked another batch.

This time, I offered to let her retrieve ‘em from the oven, but she just shook her beautiful head and smiled. “Ya gotta get back on that horse,” she said with a smile – and a hint of steel.

But I have to say, it was a remarkably interesting lesson. And if – no, make that when – you do something like I did – something that just ain’t right – c’mon, just admit it and move on! I mean, how hard a lesson can it be, right? It’s a simple one, to be sure; easy to say, too. And after all, you’d think anyone with even an ounce of sense woulda figured that out before the age of five.

But I’ll tell ya; every time I watch the news these days, it becomes obvious there are some folks – folks who definitely should know better – that just don’t seem to get it. The truth is, they ain’t foolin’ nobody.

All I can add is, don’t you choose to be like that. I’m just sayin’.

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[Warning: Lengthy post - not because I got long-winded - that sorta goes without sayin', if you get my meanin' - but because of a long image lower down in the post. Just sayin'.]

You ever get the feeling you’re bein’ watched? It’s sorta like that creepy-crawly feelin’ between the shoulder blades when nobody’s around. Like bugs crawlin’ around back there. Ick.

How about when you know you’re bein’ watched, like when you get up in front of a room filled with people?

OK, how about this one: What if you suddenly realized a whole herd o’ folks were watching your every move? Does it make you think twice about what you were about to say? Or not? Kinda makes you think, doesn’t it? Oh, sure; some folks thrive on that sortof thing. But not me – and I daresay, not most of us, either.

That thought struck me the other day (sound of dull thud), bringing back a particular memory…

It Started Out Innocently Enough

A few years back, during a regrettably long period of unemployment, I was invited to sign up for a two-week-long jobs program run by the Texas Department of Labor. (Not that I expect great things from anything the Government does, mind you; it just seemed like I wasn’t getting anywhere with the usual job-hunting methods and figured any help would be a good thing. Besides, it was free! I like free.)

Right at the beginning, folks who sat at the same table were grouped into teams. Well, it was no big deal anyway since we didn’t know each other to begin with. Interestingly enough, though, the six of us at our table somehow seemed to “mesh” almost right away, and before too long were cracking jokes and trading insights with each other like the best of friends. I guess shared trials really did help us there; we were all in the same leaky boat and lookin’ for a bucket, y’know?

Well, things went fine for the first week. At the start of the second week, though, our instructor announced that over the next couple of days we’d all be conducting mock interviews in front of a video camera, and the class would then offer (hopefully) helpful critiques.

Now at first, I must admit to feelin’ a tad nervous about that. I mean, I’d never been videotaped before (except by accident at a wedding, or something), much less done it in front of millions. (Well, maybe about 30 – but it seemed like millions!) After a few minutes discussing it with my friends at the table, I managed to put my fears back down into that little box where I usually keep ‘em.

After all, I said to myself, how bad could it be? (He said, blithely.) I mean, you sit down, answer a few questions honestly and forthrightly, maintain eye contact, smile, don’t pick yer nose – heck, I could practically do that in my sleep!

V-Day

Finally, the day came. Each interview lasted about 5 minutes; then for about 15 minutes we played the tape while different folks pointed out, um, “helpful observations”. Actually, they really were helpful. Really. It can just be a bit overwhelming when everyone is trying to, y’know, help you.

One by one, each of us did the deed. By a quirk of fate, our table was one of the last ones, so we had plenty of time to observe how the whole thing was going. In part, it helped allay some fears. Folks were actually contributing helpful advice. Of course, in part it simply caused a slow buildup of, y’know, other fears…

Again, I thought to myself, I can do this, no problem.

Finally, my turn came. I’m tellin’ ya; you’da been proud of me! On the outside I was as calm as a mountain lake. But on the inside… ah, but on inside I was just a giant bowl of shiverin’, quiverin’ jello. Nevertheless, I stood up, calmly moseyed up to the front and took a seat – then proceeded to make a total hash of the entire interview! (sound of heart dropping through my shoes)

Yep; it’s true. In fact, by the time it was over, you could hear this unbelieving hush fall across the entire room. Embarrassment seemed to reign supreme, especially on the instructor’s part as she struggled to come up with something – anything – positive to say about my abysmal performance.

I felt like a piece of greasy food left on a plate that was about to be put in the dishwasher. Or like that target they use to test the effectiveness of the blast power of a Cruise Missile. It was awful. It was humiliating. It was – well, lemme put it this way. If I’da known the deep, dark secret to becoming invisible, well, I woulda done it right then, no hesitation – publicity be hanged.

The Eyes Have It

What happened, you ask?

Well, it’s like this. I was fine until I suddenly realized how many eyes were focused right on yours truly. Eyes belonging to folks I didn’t know. I mean, I was fine when swapping lies stories, conversing and laughing with folks at my own table – you know, the ones I was comfortable with. But bein’ out there in front of all the rest of the room was quite a different story.

Wow, was that ever a fun excruciating experience! Hey, it’s tough enough discovering things about yourself you didn’t know – and aren’t necessarily proud of. But it’s a frog of an entirely different hop when it happens right there in front of God and everyone, if you get my meanin’.

As it turned out, though, I did learn a few things that actually helped me out later on. Perhaps the main one was this: never to forget your audience – and the fact that no matter what you do, you have one! In fact, as I pointed out up there at the beginning of this post, that very thought came up the other day…

Ooh, Shiney! A New Toy: Twitter Mosaic

The other day I ran across this little web-based thingie called Twitter Mosaic.

What does it do? Hey, glad you asked! When you enter your Twitter username, it makes a nice composite of your choice of either followers or friends. (Note: Still haven’t figured out how to make it show all my enemies yet. Might be a handy thing to keep around… But I digress.)

Anyhoo, I have about 675 Twitter followers (give or take, depending on time of day, current season, and that particular day’s hat size). After deleting avatars that are obviously businesses, and turning it into an image (actually 6 separate images since it was so long) this is what the mosaic looks like (and I have no idea why they end up in the order they appear here):

Wow! Now that’s really sumpin’, y’all! Not only does it create a really cool image, but that’s quite a lotta folks, y’know? And to think I hardly have any followers compared to some.

Just think – all those folks are… uh… hmmm… well… Eek! They’re watchin’ everything I say! (suddenly jumps up and runs screaming from the keyboard)

Is it Gettin’ Hot in Here, or is it Just Me?

Now, why do I suddenly feel so very self-concious? I mean, it’s not like there’s any difference in now versus, say, 10 minutes ago, right? Not really. But the very idea that so many folks (potentially at least) are able to read my words (and slice and dice ‘em  too, should they feel so inclined)… well, it’s kinda sobering, for want of a better term.

I mean, like most folks, there’s a much smaller group I regularly communicate with, via blogs, comments, tweets, etc. They’re like those folks at my table – we laugh at each other’s jokes (and groan at the boners), edify each other, encourage each other to no end. But all those others – it’s like bein’ suddenly transported back to that chair in front of the video camera.

Uh, wow.

Oh, I’m sure a lot of those followers are simply there for numbers; hey, it’s a fact of life. Honestly, I don’t begrudge them that. The truth is, you get out of it what you put into it, y’know? But still, the idea that so many people can see every word I write does kinda make it a little more real, y’know? And, just for a brief moment, I had a flashback of that horrible feeling I had back in that workshop. But only for a moment.

I’ll tell ya; it should be a wake-up call for all of us, though. After all, the things we say out loud here on the Internet really are out there for all to see. And, like it or not, your words have power. Power to build, or power to destroy; power to obfuscate, or power to enlighten – hey, it’s up to you.

As that great American Philosopher Obi-wan Kenobi once said, “Choose wisely…”

Let’s Bring it Home

Now, lest you think I done forgot to bring this baby home (and thereby lettin’ you off the hook), let’s make this real and personal, shall we?

The fact is, whether you have a lot of followers or just a few, there are folks out there who actually read, think about, and yes, Virginia, sometimes even respond to your words. Now, knowing that to be true, does that:

1. Scare you to death, giving you a bad case of the heebie-jeebies every time you sit at the keyboard
2. Excite you beyond words and you just can’t keep it in any more but have to get what’s on your mind OUT THERE
3. Make you yawn because you don’t really think about it much, and hey, what I have to say doesn’t really matter all that much

OK, I made the choices extreme on purpose. Nevertheless (would a word like that fit the definition of “mashup”? uh, never mind) which continuum do you lean toward, and how does it affect what you do (and perhaps more importantly, say) on the web?

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Photo: Watched 2, by 35mm fanboy

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For today’s adventure you’ll have to take a little side trip to Scrambled Toast, the brainchild (or is it brain warp?) of fellow wordsmith Brad Shorr of Word Sell fame and fortune. Well, at least fame, anyway.

You’re familiar with the fact that culture, language, or even whether you’re a PC or a Mac can affect the way you perceive the world around us. Well, this time I contemplate how something as simple as one’s specific location can dramatically alter how we perceive a message.

Drop on by and join me, won’t you?

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OK; I admit it – I’m one of those people who exhibits the infantile behavior of snickering every time I write the word ‘but’. Sorry; I guess it’s just one of those things I never grew out of.

So you’ll be understandin’ – and hopefully forgivin’ – my bad pun (which, me bein’ me and all, was entirely intended) when you consider the image I just had to include along with it.

Anyhoo -

Have you ever considered how, um, BIG that tiny little word ‘but’ can be?

For instance, the other day, I had to turn down a truly generous offer from a good friend. I’ll tell ya; it truly pained me to do it, too. It went something like this: “Your incredibly generous offer touched my heart, but – I just have too many things going on that weekend and just can’t make it.”

The thing is, when you turn someone down like that, I find it’s usually a good idea to put something nice at the beginning of that sentence. That way the blow is somewhat lessened, if you get my meanin’.

Sometimes ‘but’ can actually be a relief – as in, “Y’know, Larry, I’d love to help you move on Saturday, but – my pet lizard has his birthday that day.”

I’ve actually used a variation of this one (it wasn’t a lizard – let’s leave it at that), and I’ll have to admit; it’s sometimes difficult to hide the, y’know, glee in my voice. Gotta work on that one.

Every now and then, it heralds good news: “Susan, we’re having to let go your assistant, but, the good news is your deadlines are still rock solid!”

It’s sorta the ol’ “good news – bad news” thing. Never have been able to decide which I’d rather have first, though. Maybe the bad news first. Or, maybe not.

So what about you? Found any creative ways to use the word “but” lately?

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Photo credit: Elephant Butts, by lukiffer

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So, I’m sittin’ at my local grocery store the other day, pumping gas for the ol’ jalopy (and meanwhile being extremely thankful that little price dial ain’t whirrin’ around like a fan, like it was a few months ago), when I happened to look up and noticed this little fellah up there in the tree above me.

Just before I managed to drag out my cell phone and snap this shot, he was waaaay out there on the very end of that limb. Although the little guy couldn’t have weighed more than a whiffle ball, that skinny little branch he’s on was bent over like a bow.

What could he have been thinkin’, I wondered?

I mean, there he was out there on that tiny little twig, risking life and limb, and for what? There weren’t any nuts out there (except, of course, himself).

I’m always amazed at the apparent fearlessness of these little critters; risking it all (like that little character, Scrap, from the Ice Age animated movies) for the Holy Grail of squirreldom, that one last juicy nut.

What makes ‘em that way, anyway? What is it that makes them – or anyone, for that matter – willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish what they have in mind?

The Wake-Up Call

The question is no longer an idle one. You may remember a couple of weeks ago I somewhat unexpectedly had to change companies due to cutbacks (sound of big surprise). More than once during these last few weeks, Mrs. MZM and I looked at each other and realized the hard truth: We had no Plan B!

Well… that’s not really true. To be more accurate, there actually IS a Plan B – and it’s been in place for well over a year – but we came face to face with the fact that we had failed miserably to do anything with it, if you get my meanin’.

See, here’s the thing.

I run a completely different business on the side. Not really that unusual, I know; lots of folks do something for a little extra cash, too. It’s just that to be successful in this business, it requires me to do things I’ve never done before. Like any business, in order to grow it, I have to… search for leads (not really all that hard), network my way into opportunitites (a little harder), and market myself like crazy (something I find very, very difficult).

Unfortunately, I haven’t been doing these essential things like I should have been – and thus, the business essentially languished. The result: now, when having that second income should have been a welcome safety net, well, it simply ain’t there – yet!

Hoo-eee! You wanna talk about your wake-up call!

Busy as… a Squirrel

OK, so for the last few weeks, I’ve really been doing what I should have been doing all along – all those, y’know, icky things I mentioned above – and more. But it ain’t easy, I’ll tell ya. Why? Because it requires me to kinda go out on that limb, so to speak, just like our little fuzzy friend up there.

See, the thing is, I’m an introvert by nature. And it’s dang hard for me to up and market myself like that. It ain’t something that just comes natural to me. Besides, it’s a scary world out there, y’know?

I mean, what if folks don’t want what I have to offer? (Of course you do, I tell myself. I mean, who wouldn’t want to pay less for something they’re already paying for every month?) What if they think I’m nuts? (So what’s your point, I say. That ship already sailed a while back, I’m afraid.) What if they look at me and think Just who the heck do I think I am, anyway? (Hey, I’m nobody special; I’m just like you, I’d say.) What if… Hey, you know how it is, right?

But to be successful at this business – or any business, or any endeavor worth pursuing, for that matter – you pretty much have to get out there anyway, right? C’mon, nod your head with me here. (Sound of heads nodding) The difference between then and now, of course, is that little thing called motivation. And that’s the key element.

It’s actually easy to do the tough things – when you’re motivated.

Motivation Makes the Difference

So, now that I’m, y’know, finally motivated, it’s time for me to go out on a limb, folks. Time for me to willingly – and with a remarkable sense of growing enthusiasm – do things I’ve never done before! Yep; time to take the risk! That’s right, y’all – it’s time to spit into the wind! To (swelling sound of inspirational music) go forth where no man has gone before! To dang the torpedoes and go full speed ahead! To – ouch… (sound of dull thud as blunt object hits back of head)…

Er, sorry; got a little carried away there.

I mean, sure, it’s scary; especially at first. But I tell myself (there’s a lot of self-talk involved in this, don’cha know… which is perfect, since as you know, I talk to my Self a lot anyway) it’s the only way.

What About You?

So what is it that gets YOU motivated to do that thing you want to do? ARE you doing what you want to do? What will it take for you to DO the thing you, y’know, love to do?

Tough questions, I know. Think about it, won’t you? In the meantime…

Onward, through the fog! (sound of inspirational music, fading into the distance…)

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Photo: Out on a Limb, by Robert Hruzek

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