One of the most apt metaphors for my life has always been Popeye The Sailor Man.
Don’t worry: I’m not about to insult your intelect with pabulum like “how Popeye Will Teach You Social Media.” He won’t. I’ll cede that ground to other blogs.
If you’re unfamiliar with Popeye, the story goes like this. Popeye is fighting for Olive Oyl. His nemesis, Brutus or Bluto beats him to a pulp for ten minutes. It’s established that Popeye has no chance.
Then, Popeye inhales some spinach. This tonic transforms Popeye’s arms into some rube goldberg ass kicking machine. He dispatches Brutus with aplomb and efficiency.
After the commercial break, the cycle begins anew. Brutus beats up Popeye for 10 minutes, and only after taking a severe beating does Popeye remember his Spinach.
Hundreds- perhaps thousands- of Popeye cartoons follow this pattern. Why Popeye never got his spinach out the instant he saw Bluto I have no clue.
For years, this was my whole life. It took desperation to get me to act on anything. Because I was addicted to failure and drama. Unlike other bloggers, in my back pocket is the ability to make $2500 bucks on any day I need to. I can just cold call, see? I can hustle.
[Edit: This should be proof that business is just sitting there.]
Follow a column on Twitter that says “recommend wordpress” You get stuff like this. You can’t make someone cry uncle with his AMEX? You aren’t a salesperson. That simple technique is one of about 15 reliable tools that I use regularly.
All this means I don’t have to worry because I can always pull it out. I had that can of Spinach. I never worried enough about Brutus.
After I’d save my month with some selling, I’d smile at my kingdom. I can make $2-3k any day I like. So, in my mind, I was a guy that made $2-3k a day even though I was only doing that twice a month. I’d tell my weary wife, “wife, we had a big sale today.” She’d say, “Oh, Good, Dear.” You could see it on her face- she was worried that she married Willie Loman.
The whole thing felt like an addiction. The tension would build till someone paid money. Then I’d relax.
If I allow myself contentment, to relax, I’m right back here, on the crackpipe begging for another hit, drowning in irrelevance all while deluding myself that I have ability.
Onward.
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