Brilliance or BS? A Three Part Series

The internet loves romanticized, courageous, renegade quotes about pursuing passions, taking roads less traveled and “just doing it”. Quotes saturate Pinterest boards and news feeds—we print them to hang on our walls, we tattoo them on our bodies. 

But how often do we listen to their advice? 

Sometimes I feel we use quotes the same way we use well-intentioned gym memberships: we buy memberships and post quotes but we rarely visit the gym and fall short of seizing the day. Yet even though we don’t use them, we feel better because we have them. 

Is it because the quotes are bullshit? 

Or are we lacking the courage to embrace the advice? 

I’ve thought about this a lot lately as I’ve noticed an imbalance between the number of inspirational quotes I see online and number of people doing interesting things. 

There are three quotes that have struck a chord with me in the past two months; quotes that I wanted to share online but realized I only wanted to share them if I was actually doing what the quote advised.

This is a three part series and the first of the three quotes comes from Steve Jobs:

I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Is this quote brilliant or bullshit? 

Did Steve Jobs actually ask himself each morning if he was satisfied with his current situation? When the answer was no did he immediately change direction or rather did he let the dissatisfaction plant a seed in his mind that grew into a decision to make a change? Did he quietly resolve to fix the problem or did a wave of paralyzing anxiety wash over him? 

Any time I’ve thought about making a drastic change I’ve been overwhelmed with uncertainty coupled with ceaseless worry. 

You’re just being a quitter, suck it up.  

What if your new plan doesn’t work? 

You can’t just up and change direction, you made commitments! 

Everyone will think you’re crazy. 

This quote makes it sound like Steve would go four days feeling unsatisfied and then make a quick decision to pivot—much the way one would decide they’re unhappy with their outfit before absentmindedly throwing it off and putting on a new one. I know Steve Jobs was a brilliant mind but I refuse to believe that he had the confidence and self-assurance to make big changes at the drop of a hat. 

While he was probably highly skilled at not sticking around bad situations longer than necessary, he was still human, which means the change was accompanied by some level of uncertainty and anxiety. That being said, I do think there’s brilliance in the quote when it’s distilled to it’s core message: if you repeatedly feel you aren’t doing the right thing, do something different. 

If you post Steve’s quote on your Facebook page yet continue to complain you hate you’re job for months on end, that’s bullshit.

But if you decide the time has come to make a change and you find the courage to do it, that’s brilliance. 

Turning 25 | A declaration for a new year

Tomorrow, I turn 25. 

… 

I remember the day I turned 22. It was a quiet day in East Lansing, Michigan and I spent the bulk of the morning at a coffee shop absorbed in the act of rearranging words and sentences for what would become the first blog post for 52 Cups.

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I intentionally kicked the project off on my birthday because I wanted the initial post to be more than just the start of a project—I wanted it to be a declaration for how I planned to spend the next year of my life. 

That post solidified that 22 was going to be the year of new connections. 

… 

I spent my 23rd birthday in London, dancing late into the night at a Brazilian club, recommended by a friend I’d made in Cannes, France, with my aunt, two girls I’d met on a bike tour earlier in the day and a friend’s cousin who was interning in London. It was random, adventurous and the culmination of an eight week trip through Europe. In the morning I’d be boarding a flight back to the US without a clue as to how’d I’d be putting my two-month old Marketing degree to use. 

Rather than feeling overwhelmed with the uncertainty, I was exhilarated: 23 was going to be the year of adventure. 

Over the course of the next year, I would visit 27 states and 72 different cities; sleep on 22 couches, 7 air mattresses, 11 bunk beds, the floor of two airports and inside a tent, twice. I would learn to milk cows, give speeches, surf, brand cattle, bottle wine, road trip, climb rocks, watch the Sweet Sixteen and take photos (lots of photos), all while continuing to drink coffee and write. 

The year also included having my car stolen and scheming a trip to Antarctica. The year did not include paying rent—I lived a fully nomadic life and it was fantastic. 

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… 

For my 24th birthday, I was on a weeklong road trip to Vermont with one of my best friends trying to maximize every day of July before my nomadic lifestyle came to a screeching halt on August 1st: day one of my first “real” job. 

Two months earlier I’d abruptly woken at 3 am with the clear realization that it was time for be to pick a city and plant some roots. At the time I was doing contract work for Michigan State University’s Alumni Association. They were sending me to major cities to work with the local alumni clubs (this explains how I financed my travel from November through May). There was an opportunity to extend the contract but I decided to decline it when I realized that 70 percent of my nomadic lifestyle was a hunt for adventure but the other 30 percent was an escape from reality. 

When you’re constantly on the move you don’t have to stop and address tough questions like: What am I doing with my life? 

Worse, you can push problems to the fringes. Those nagging little issues everyone faces? Yeah, you don’t have time to think about those when you’re always hustling to catch a flight or plan the next trip. It’s liberating, until the issues catch up with you. 

I knew it was time to stop moving and sort out a few details of my life: 24 would be the year of slowing down and working on the foundation. 

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… 

The thing about foundation building is that it’s boring and the feedback loop is weak. Meeting someone new each week or traveling to a different location leads to a sense of accomplishment (plus stories and adventure). I met this person. I did this thing. It’s a great feeling.

The transition to a new job was not so great. My thought stream for the first six months in San Francisco: I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not doing this right. Am I doing this right? What if I screw this up? Wait, I think I might be good at this! Scratch that, maybe not.

The worst thoughts: I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything, I don’t feel like I’m making progress.  

It was exhausting (and I’m guessing something many of my recent grad friends can relate to). Fortunately, I had friends willing to listen to my anxiety-riddled concerns and offer ever-reassuring advice. I mentioned two weeks ago that I write every day mainly as a measuring device to see how I’ve changed and how I’ve stayed the same. 

In the past two months I’ve noticed the phrase used to pop up a lot in my writing. I used to think this or that. I used to let this type of situation stress me out. I used to worry about X, Y, and Z (plus 100 other things). 

Amazingly, this used to business revealed a different type of accomplishment. Not the tangible type of accomplishment from 22 and 23, but a slower accomplishment. Like the way you don’t notice how much the tree in your front yard has grown until you come across an old photo reminding you how small it once was. I think back to this time a year ago and think wow! I’ve really changed. 

And that was the magic of 24: A less adventurous year, but one filled with slow and long-lasting growth. The kind that forms a strong foundation. The kind that I needed.

 … 

And that brings us to what happens tomorrow: 25. 

I predict 25 will be a fantastic year. (Partly because I oddly love the numbers 2 and 5 in any combination). It will be a wonderful compilation of the past three years: my unwavering faith in the power of building new connections and my spirit of adventure mixed with a much stronger foundation thanks to a year of ‘real world’ experience. 

This means taking more chances, trying new things, replacing fear with love, being vulnerable and understanding my actions and decisions won’t be perfect but trusting that an imperfect decision fueled by passion is better than taking the safe route and wondering what if. 

In short: 25 will be the year of daring actions. 

Daring actions of all shapes and sizes; some of which I have planned and some that will unfold serendipitously. It’s not going to be an easy year, but it’s certainly going to be a memorable one. 

So with that daring declaration: cheers to the next year of life! 

P.S.  If you think my actions aren’t daring enough, bother me on Twitter—half the fun of public declarations is forced accountability. And, while it might not be your birthday, we are now halfway through the year, which is a great time to stop and reflect. 

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Look Ma, I'm Published!

Nearly a year and a half ago I received an email calling for stories from young college graduates to share with U Chic. I responded to the email saying I had plenty of stories to share and ended up writing them a short piece about what I learned through 52 Cups.

I had forgotten about the contribution until a few weeks ago when they let me know that I’d been selected as a contributor to their latest book: U Chic’s Diploma Diaries: The chic Grad’s Guide to Work, Love, and Everything in Between. The book is chalk-full of advice on navigating the real world, new jobs, health, happiness, relationships and more.  

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I looked forward to getting my hands on a published copy and pleasantly surprised when I discovered I was the first story in the first chapter. Page 3! 

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After spending time reading various entries, it’s clear this is a helpful book for any young woman navigating the roller coaster of post-college life and I’m honored that I was able to be a part of it. 

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Tim's 52 Gigs

Way back in 2011, Tim Heenan left the following comment on 52 Cups:

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I excitedly followed the link and was blown away by what I read in Tim’s introduction to his 52 gigs project:

I have been playing guitar and singing for about 30 years. I’ve never taken it very seriously but have had great times playing and singing around campfires, parties or just about anywhere anybody would listen. I’ve always wanted to pursue the idea of taking it to the next level but for one reason or another I just never did it.

Well, that’s not exactly true. My buddy Tom Moore and I had a gig about 20 years ago at a bar (I think we played about 3 or 4 Saturdays) I was so nervous and stressed out about the gig that I had to stop. But now that the houses are flipped, the home remodeling is done, kids have grown up, and with a lot of support from great friends and my wife Kim, it seems like the right time to make this happen.

I recently read an article about a blog called 52 Cups written by an MSU senior, which inspired me to launch this project. Recently, a friend of mine, Chip Christy, has given me the opportunity to play during his breaks at a few of his gigs, so this seems like a good time for me to get out and perform and hopefully work into some paying gigs.

I couldn’t believe that my project had inspired Tim to embark on such a grand project of his own and I immediately I reached out to him to wish him luck and let him know I’d be following along with his journey. From my own experience doing something scary 52 times, I knew Tim’s 52 gigs project was going to be transformative and I was excited to watch.

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(Read more about Tim here and see where he’s playing next here)

This March, Tim played his 52nd gig in Grand Ledge, Michigan. His wife sent me a wonderful email inviting me to the show, which I was unfortunately unable to attend. I sent a congratulatory card instead and asked Tim if he would do an interview with me over the phone. I had so many questions to ask him about the experience and what he learned along the way. Our conversation was fantastic and I want to share some of the takeaways here: 

You can’t let what other people think hold you back. 

Like he mentions in his blog introduction, Tim convinced his buddy to be in a band with him when he was 29 and they played a few shows but Tim couldn’t handle his nervousness—he would sweat through the set and his hands would shake so much he’d have a hard time playing. He decided it was too much so he broke up the band.

Tim was nervous because he was too concerned about what other people would think; too afraid to put himself out there. As he said, it was easy to quit because, “We make up reasons why we can’t do something.” 

Tim led himself to believe that unless he had an album and a couple good hits he wasn’t good enough to preform in front of others. He wasn’t record-ready, famous, or “that guy” everyone knew as a great musician. Who was he to think anyone would want to listen to his songs? In retrospect, he realized “that guy” was once an unknown man playing in small local gigs too because everyone has to start somewhere. Unfortunately, his perfectionism stopped him from starting.

So what changed when he started 52 Gigs?

Tim told me, “With age, you gather some wisdom and suddenly some things that seemed like a big deal suddenly seem like a smaller deal. You stop worrying about what people think.” Of course, this mindset didn’t make the pre-show jitters disappear (it took 22 gigs before he finally started to feel relaxed on stage) but worrying less about people gave him the freedom to focus on the passion.

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If you want something different, you have to make changes.

Just because Tim stopped playing with his buddy at 29 doesn’t mean he stopped thinking about playing gigs. He still played his guitar often. Once his kids left the house for college, he found himself playing around the fire during the summers or around the house but it was still just a hobby he squeezed in when he wasn’t busy with work and other responsibilities.

It was when he went to a high school open house where a man was playing live music that he realized his hobby could be a fun way to make extra cash getting paid for something he loved. This thought was the seed that would eventually turn into Tim’s 52 Gigs

He sat on the idea for a while but realized that he couldn’t keep thinking about the idea. He had to take action. If he didn’t he commit to making something happen he would always wonder could have happened. He was ready for a change, ready to commit to making music a priority in his life. That’s when he found 52 Cups and decided to start.

The reason he was successful in turning music into more than just a hobby is that he was also ready for the hard work and sacrifice that came along with it. The project wasn’t easy—it took a lot of time, energy and courage (and support from his wife and family) but the result is that his life is now different. Performing live is a real part of his life instead of a what if.

When you follow your passion you find a place where you fit.

Tim was never a sports guy but he had a bunch of friends that would get together to talk sports. It was a camaraderie he always envied. He wanted to have a community of people that could spend hours talking about the things he was most passionate about.

Through the magic of putting himself out there, Tim slowly met more and more people that were interested in music. People that shared similar hopes and fears, people that were trying to find solutions to similar problems.

In his words, “I never really felt like I fit into a particular group. Now that I’m getting into music, I’m making musician friends and now I feel like I have a group like my friends that talk sports. I finally found a niche in a world with people I am comfortable being around.”

It was a fantastic reminder that when you allow yourself to chase a dream, you often end up uncovering a place, idea or community you never knew existed. 

With a new outlook on performing, the confidence of 52 gigs under his belt and a new community of friends and fans, Tim is continuing down the music path. He’ll continue to play shows, work on original songs and possibly pursue recording an album of his own.

Things he was only dreaming about two years ago have now become a reality. 

You can have an impact. 

After I finished 52 Cups, I took a long writing break. Like Tim said, we make up reasons why we can’t do something. The irrational reason floating around in my mind: I wrote these 52 stories and people liked them, but what if no one likes the next thing I write?

I was letting my fear of what other people might think stop me from my passion just like Tim did back when he was 29. Instead of spending time writing and honing my skills, I spent (wasted) a lot of time thinking about the what ifs. 

Tim deserves all the credit for succeeding in his 52 gigs because he did all the work, but it fills me with joy to know that something I did gave him a dose of inspiration that helped him make the leap. Hearing his story over the phone reminded me of the power of storytelling and, more importantly, gave me a good kick in the pants. I have to let go of my negative thoughts about writing so I can get back to writing. I guess inspiration is a two way street.

So on that note, I’m officially going back to weekly blogging here at 52 Cups.

Tim told me he cringes when he watches recordings of his first few gigs. I cringe when I reread my first few cups. When you spend a year consciously trying to be better at something and then pause to look at were you started—it’s amazing (and embarrassing) to see the growth.

But that’s the magic of practice: the more times you do something, the better you get.

The key is to do something.

You’re never going to get better if you sit around making up reasons not to start. 

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