As the expression goes, let’s not get the cart in front of the horse.
Sure that makes sense. I have been on stage since I can remember and mainly from high school until present. I realized somewhere between my first blindsided tackle and first audition that I prefer the darkness of a performance space to the bottom of a football pile up.
I put off major human milestones in the hopes of the next break in comedy and performing. My wife still thinks it was a terrible prank to take her ring shopping at nine months, and then propose–over four years later. (It was the economy, I swear!) We got married, and promptly jumped into parenthood, because we were madly in love and tired of the brunch scene. I also was ready to write a new stand-up comedy set on parenthood. ...
Inevitably, when an acquaintance, bank teller, or random customer service rep asks for my birthdate, and I reply, “December 25, 1967,” I get a similar response. “You were born on Christmas? That’s so awesome!” No. No, it’s not. It can actually be pretty awful.
No. No, it’s not. It can actually be pretty awful.
For most of my childhood, having a Christmas Day birthday wasn’t a big issue. From the time I was an infant, until I was 13, my family would spend the last few weeks of every year in Miami Beach, each season at the same classic hotel, The Colonial Inn, on Collins Avenue along the beach. Off the hotel grounds, things to do and places to go were definitely limited. But, at the hotel, it wasn’t much different than any other day. ...
BUCKLE DOWN AND TAKE A GIANT, HEALTHY QUIT
In Defense of Embracing Failure and Bowing Out
Recently, I resigned from an organization with which I had worked closely for a number of years. I served on the board and was an officer. I was passionate about our mission and was highly engaged in all of its activities and programs.
Life…is too damn short to put up with this bulls…whatever.
As it turned out, my goals and those of other members of the organization were not copasetic. In the end, after a lot of stress, disappointment and an exhausting bout of existential angst over the realization that I had been mired in a seething cauldron of duplicity, I decided to quit. ...
There he is. The pusher man that is always there, standing in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the lamppost, willing and able to feed lists to the aching jones of content junkies, via social media sites like Facebook and LinkedIn.
It knows where they’ve been and where they will go next.
Better than the best drug dealer, social media knows its customers. It uses algorithms and metrics. It doesn’t just know where they are. It knows where they’ve been and where they will most likely go next. It knows what its customers like. No, it knows what they need to stop the itch, make them well and settle them into a comfortable nod. ...