In August, I set a goal to lose 22 pounds. I didn’t really need to lose that weight (I would have had the abs of a sexy, sexy (sexy!) cover model at my finish weight), so the goal was an exercise in discipline, and in teaching myself how to once again have a feeling of control in my life.

Then, two weeks ago, I gave up on that goal because I felt I had regained the control and no longer cared about having sexier abs.

The post I wrote about quitting was supposed to be about determining when a goal is worth pursuing — and when you’re a douche to doggedly chase a goal that has stopped being something you care to be, do, or have. A lot of people weighed in on my decision to quit, and the slight consensus was that my take on quitting was a refreshing, relieving look at goals, and how it’s nice to have permission to quit something that has become pointless to you.

What a bunch of fucking enablers you all are.

Okay, kidding… maybe. But see, the thing is, if you happened to be watching me closely on Twitter the day after that second post ran, you would have seen some indecision and some second-guessing. A lot of it, actually. I asked people to read the post and let me know if it was a cop-out, or if I was justified in abandoning the goal. For a long time, the vote seemed to be about 50/50. Eventually, more and more people (including two life coaches) said that quitting was the sound decision if the goals were no longer compelling to me, so I accepted that as the right answer.

But there were a few problems with this:

1. I could not honestly tell if I was quitting the goal because it had become an unworthy goal or because I just plain didn’t want to do it. Because you know what? I definitely didn’t want to do it.

2. The reasoning behind a “correct” decision to stop pursuing a goal always sounds a whole lot like justification. Like, if I were being a douche by quitting and was just trying to justify an untenable decision to quit, I would have said a lot of the same things.

3. Likewise, people who said, “You’re okay to quit” could just as easy have been enablers. If you are trying to quit smoking and you break down and light up after a stressful day and your smoker buddy says, “Hell, just ONE after a day like that won’t hurt you,” that’s enabling. The line between that and saying it’s okay when it really is okay is a very, very fine one.

4. People who commit to goals and then wimp out without good reason, just because they want to stop trying, are real dickheads.

5. I don’t want to be a dickhead.

So there I was, back and forth, trying to decide if I was being a dickhead or if I was actually stopping pursuit of a goal that had become pointless.

I didn’t want to keep starving myself to get down to 190 pounds. And I didn’t want to do the nutty bodybuilder diet I knew from past experience it would take to make it happen.

But I really, really didn’t want to be a dickhead.

So thanks to the suggestions of some cool and smart folks in the comments and on Twitter, I decided on a compromise. One that wouldn’t conflict with my other goals or my love of the occasional Pop Tart.

I decided to set a new physical goal to replace the weight-loss goal. A big goal, but a better one.

And really, the whole situation smacks of Well, duh.

I mean, I know myself. The fall and winter, when my mood can sometimes be uneven and I seem to want to hibernate, is not the time to try to get cover model abs. Especially given that I’m a father of two and honestly don’t give a big enough shit about that anymore.

In the winter, as a competitive father of two who likes to be strong and fast and awesome, the right goal is not an aesthetic goal… it’s a performance goal. Forget fat. What I like is to lift more and jump higher. I like to learn new tricks. Those things jazz me. Those will get me up and moving. Those will give me the control and dickhead prevention I’m looking for without conflicting with my other values.

So for those of you who care, I’m going to lay out a set of new physical goals.

And for those of you who are nuts, you may want to join me. Craig from Bloomverse jumped on this right away. In fact, it was his idea that he and I should go head to head and bust each other’s nuts. And dammit if I don’t have a formidable competitor on my hands. He already can do more L-pullups than I can (read about those further down), and those are HAAAAAAARD.

So here’s the plan: We’re going to do the “How Fit Are You” challenge from Crossfit.com. In fact, here’s the document we’ll be following. It’s a series of five physical tests, to be performed one each day for five consecutive days, in the order given.

You can score 4, 8, 12, 16, or 20 points on each test, based on a scoring system that again is in the documentation.

My goal is to score 28 points total. If you think that’s a weak goal, then you’re either Superman or haven’t tried much Crossfit. These tests are hard as hell! Most people would score zero.

For summary, because the people bored with this concept have already stopped reading anyway, I’ve written out the tests and my test-specific goals below.

(By the way, if you’re thinking of joining us, read the descriptions of the tests very carefully to get the full details, because it’s easy to do stuff halfway, and nobody wants your cheater ass cheating.)

So, in a nutshell:

Test #1: Maximum bench press immediately followed by maximal pullups
GOAL: 8 points. I’m not a good bencher, but 275 x 29 pullups will get me my 8.

Test #2: 15 clean and jerks at a fixed weight without putting the bar down
GOAL: 12 points, which would be using 160 pounds.

Test #3: Maximal Tabata squats followed by max muscle-ups in 4 minutes
GOAL: 0 points. Lofty, huh? The thing is, you need at least 8-9 muscle ups to have a prayer of scoring, and I can’t do one after trying on and off for years. So my goal is to do one muscle-up. I’ll be using rings, but using a bar is also fine.

Test #4: Max deadlift followed immediately by maximal handstand pushups
NOTE: No cheating on the handstand pushups. You have to put your hands on books or paralettes so that your ears can go as low as your hands.
GOAL: 4 points. I’d like to do it with a 500 pound deadlift and 7 HSPUs.

Test #5: Run 800 meters (1/2 mile), then do 21 thrusters (a front squat combined with a push press), then do 21 L-pullups (pullups with your legs in front of you)
GOAL: 4 points, which means finishing the above inside of six minutes.

So that’s it. Craig and I haven’t picked a firm due date yet, so I’m doing it for us: January 15th. We have to have done our tests and submitted our results by then. Doing it early is okay, as long as we do all of the tests in five consecutive days in the order given.

Hopefully this goal revision saves me from being a dickhead. Hopefully.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I’ve decided to hire an assistant. What may not have been entirely clear was what I was going to do, or what that arrangement would look like, or… most importantly… why you should care.

Well, here’s why you should give a shit about my quest for an assistant:

A lot of you reading this are just starting a new business, are looking to start one, or have nurtured one along for a little while now. And at the beginning, it seems to make sense to just do everything yourself that you’re capable of doing yourself. i.e., if you know how to create and send a newsletter, you should do it. If you know how to launch a new website for a new service or product, you should do it. If you know how to buy your own stamps and research your own new printer, you should do it. Because you can save money that way.

So again, a lot of you are saying, “I don’t care about JT’s assistant. I can’t afford and/or don’t need an assistant. I just want tips on how to get more clients.”

For those of you who are thinking that, I want you to pay attention anyway because if you’re going to ever succeed, you need to start RIGHT NOW thinking about the value of your time. If you want to buy your own stamps, that’s cool. Just remember that you’re doing it because you have time to kill or really want to get out of the office… and NOT because you have to. Your time is valuable. Very valuable. You’re the Big Cheese, after all. Buying stamps is beneath you. So, the minute you have something more important that you should be doing, someone else should be buying those stamps for you. Even if you’re not there yet, I want you to operate with this mentality. Do what makes you money. Outsource the rest.

And then, one day, your business is going to grow, and those little tasks and the big tasks will both multiply and begin to war with each other for your precious time. You’re going to someday realize out of the blue that you’re really, really busy. You will probably not know why, or even have a clear accounting of your time. You won’t truly understand that you’re doing things that are unproductive, and you won’t know what to do to make yourself less busy. All you’ll know is that you need help. Help with what? Well, who the hell knows. You just need help.

And that’s where I am. I’m just really busy. I don’t know what I’m doing right or wrong or what I should be doing different. I just know that I need help.

So at this point — whether you’re just trying to engender “Big Cheese” thinking or whether you’re currently going batshit crazy with busyness and don’t know where to start fixing it — just listen to this recording between me and Marcia Hoeck. We talked about exactly how to put order back into your life and put yourself back at the wheel of the giant ship of your business, rather than working below deck fixing leaks.

(Audio is below… if you’re reading this via a feed, you may have to click through to the post.)

Download as MP3 file

>>>> If you’d like to find out how to simplify your own business and hire your own supremely helpful awesome savior V.A., check out Get More Done, Make More Money: The 5 Easy Steps to Find, Hire, and Partner with a Virtual Assistant. (That’s the book we talked about in the recording above.)

Anyway, that album also has the song “Martin Scorcese,” which is just a bunch of screaming about how Martin Scorsese MAKES THE BEST FUCKING FILMS, HE MAKES THE BEST FUCKING FILMS and the singer goes on to say all of the things he’d do to Martin Scorsese if he ever met him, like bite off his ear and spit it out in his face because HE MAKES THE BEST FUCKING FILMS and I’m not pretending that the song is kind of full of mixed messages, both for Martin and for the listener.

Anyway, that album is called One Step Ahead of the Spider, which is what got me thinking of writing this post because I kind of realized that the album title is a good metaphor for how I’ve been living my life for the past year or two.

Because as I build this online THING, I don’t have to storm my way to untold wealth, and I’m definitely not doing that quite yet. For now, I don’t have to make a zillion dollars.

I just have to make one dollar more than I’m required to spend.

I just have to stay one step ahead of the spider.

(And that’s THE spider, not “stay one step ahead of Spider,” who was this smelly toothless chess genius I once ran afoul of. Although come to think of it, it’s a good idea to stay at least one step ahead of him at all times, too.)

You may be wondering where I’m going with this. The answer is that this post kind of has a metaphysical message to it. Just you watch; I can do that starting from dick jokes. I’m that good.

Anyway, I’ve mentioned before that I’m foo-foo enough to believe that everything really does happen for a reason, and that when bad shit happens, it’s something from which we’re supposed to take a lesson. i.e., if I hadn’t started having panic attacks while pursuing my genetics Ph.D., I would be festering in a lab somewhere right now. So, it was a good thing. And if I hadn’t had my real estate bummer, I would never have started this blog and this business, which now accounts for 100% of my income. So, it’s a good thing. I guess.

I’ve learned a lot from the past “bad” things that have happened in my life. I’ve learned to follow my gut, to listen to my mother, and to make my income through my talents rather than through what feels like easy money (real estate, ahem). I’ve learned, to some degree, which risks are worth taking and which are not.

What I haven’t learned yet is true faith.

(And by “true faith,” I mean faith that is true and real and whole and honest. I’m not talking about that New Order song “True Faith,” because I actually know that pretty well. It’s the one that goes, “I used to think that the day would never come, something something filet of the morning sun” and had much less of a Joy Division feel than their hits back when they were Joy Division and eschewed such traditional concepts as “hits.”)

Anyway, I believe that everything happens for a reason, and I try to have faith about things that seem uncertain, but part of me just won’t listen. So life keeps kicking me in the nuts until I figure it out. Until I accept that whatever problems arise, they will be handled.

Until I learn to see seemingly insurmountable obstacles arise and instead of saying, “Oh, shit,” to instead say, “I’m going to enjoy the ride.”

Now, I imagine some of you may be reading this and thinking, That’s now how things work for me. All of your talk of income and faith and problems resolving as if by magic? Yeah, that doesn’t happen.

Well, maybe that’s not what you’re supposed to be learning right now: Faith about money.

Or, maybe you’re knuckling under and spending all of your time worrying and fretting, instead of trusting and continuing to place one foot in front of the other. You won’t learn the faith lesson that way for sure.

Or maybe I’m the crazy one, yammering on and on about Martin Scorsese and his detachable penis.

But all I know is that despite the fact that things feel like they’re going well, I keep getting interesting… challenges… thrown at me. I’ve already tossed a lot of money down the real estate sinkhole this month, and today was supposed to bring a check for late rents of just over $1000. It was under $400. I have $1000 in insurance due in a few days, and other things due, and I’m tapped out.

But I’m not going to sweat it. Not this time. Because this has happened like twenty times in the past few months, and I know exactly what will happen.

The money will appear. Because what I’m supposed to be learning right now is to have faith.

If this has gotten too metaphysical for you, I won’t be offended if you call me a hippie douchebag and then leave.

But yeah, that’s my thing. Faith. Another thing you could call it is living by your wits. Something always falls out of the sky in front of me, or some solution presents itself. Quite often, money I’m expecting in the future shows up early. I then have the time between now and when that money was supposed to show up to earn the difference. Somehow, I always do. Like, in ways I couldn’t predict ahead of time. I can’t count the number of times that exactly the right unexpected job has plopped onto my desk at exactly the right time, worth exactly the right amount of money.

The thing is, if you can let go of the fear and the worry — i.e. if you can just have some faith for once — it’s one hell of a ride. It feels kind of like speeding along a curving road in the dark without the high beams on, turning this way and that with only the slightest inkling of whether or not the road continues in the direction you’ve turned.

It’s kind of like stepping out onto a bridge that you have no tangible reason to believe is actually there.

It’s kind of like saying to the world, “Okay, I’m not going to raise my hands to block this time. Instead, I’m going to trust that you’re not going to hit me in the face.”

I realize how this sounds. It sounds borderline irresponsible. My dad lives in Philadelphia, and after a break-in in his building, he wanted to buy a gun. Then he thought, Do I really want to live that way? Do I really want to live in fear? Or do I want to trust that what’s supposed to happen will happen?

And so some of you are saying, Get the fucking gun. You don’t have to use it. Just get it and have it.

But see, if you get the gun, you’re not having faith. That’s like saying that yeah, I totally, totally, totally trust my kids not to drive the Lexus, but I’m still hiding the keys. If you hide the keys, you don’t trust your kids. And if you buy the gun, you don’t have faith.

Faith is about belief in the absence of any reason to believe. It’s about not gathering proof and evidence. It’s about not having a backup plan. It’s about operating without a net. The irony is that the minute you have any reason to have faith, it’s not faith.

The only way to have faith is to chose to have it. The only way to work without a net is to trust that you will never really fall.

I have three days. I need around two thousand dollars.

Now just you fucking watch what happens.

It’s over at the new Charlie and Johnny Jam Sessions website. Please click the deceptive graphic below and then get mad when it takes you to a site instead of playing a file. Then scroll down and listen to the file anyway.

A downloadable version of that file, as well as part 1 of the Jam Sessions, is over at the Charlie and Johnny Jam Sessions website. Check it out; we hope you’ll join us!

I’m taking a big risk by writing this immediately after my post about how complaining makes you a pussy, but I’m going to do it anyway. I figure that with a bit of misdirection, I can convince you all that not only am I right on both sides of my apparently contradictory opinions, but that I’m actually capable of achieving any goal three days before I make that goal. And that I’m Superman.

So anyway, a while back, I made a pledge to lose 22 pounds. I started out at 212, which is a tad heavy for me. I stepped up my workouts, reined in my diet, and very quickly got down to around 202. Then I stalled.

So I kept at it. Reined in the diet more. Worked out harder.

And stayed right at 202.

At this point, I realized exactly what I would need to do to get down to 190. My natural set-point is currently around 204, meaning that I can do quite a bit or I can do very little and still hover right around there. So to get down to 190, I would need to eat in a very particular, anal sort of way for six weeks or so, greatly limiting carbohydrates for five days out of seven. I’d need to track everything I ate in a food diary. Every time I’ve wanted to bust through a plateau, that has been the procedure — and it always works.

So I found the diet online that has worked for me in the past. I checked to see if my FitDay.com food diary login was still active from years ago.

And then I said, “Fuck it; I want some Oreos.” And I quit.

That’s right, I quit. I am quitting. I am a quitter. You hear me, @recodingjim? I’m bailing on this goal. Finished. Gone. Done. Eating chocolate and bacon again, preferably together and in massive quantities.

I promised the blogosphere that I would weigh 190 by October 15th, and I do not. I weigh 204 again, right at my set-point and well short of my goal.

And I’m proud of it, because I did what I set out to do.

Let me explain. And I think Coach Tim will back me up on this, because it all goes back to values and deep motivations, and because I’m his customer and the customer is always right.

You tell these life coach types that you want a million dollars, and they’ll say, “No, you don’t really want the million dollars. You want what you think a million dollars will give you.”

You work through a process and you determine that what you actually want is freedom, or security, or love. The money is just the vehicle to get there. If you want security and can find it another way, the million dollars is irrelevant.

So going back to my publicly-stated goal of losing 22 pounds, I had to ask myself, What did I really want? Because it sure as hell wasn’t to look down and see 1-9-0 in that order on a digital readout. If that was what I wanted, I would never have peeled off the sticker that was over the display when I bought the scale. That said 190 all the time, and I didn’t even have to be standing on the scale.

So here’s the facts — just the facts, ma’am — about my weight loss goal.

What I really wanted was a sense of control. If you read through the post, you’ll see that I actually knew that when I started this whole thing. I was feeling all over the place at the time, and enforcing some physical discipline was a reliable and comfortable way for me to grab my life by the nuts and tell it who was boss.

That control I wanted? Yeah. I got it. I feel much more in control than I did in August. Things are hectic, but much more reined in.

The “vehicle” goal wasn’t objectively necessary. True, I had eaten too many Doritos over the summer, and true, 212 is a bit too heavy for me. But by “a bit,” I mean like 10 pounds tops. I never did look fat. I didn’t have a bad lipid profile or elevated blood pressure. No doctor had told me to slim down. I have a resting pulse rate of around 50. Even 212 would not have been an unhealthy weight for me, and 202 certainly isn’t. It’s spot on.

The secondary goal actually conflicted with my primary goals. I wanted control and satisfaction (primary) and was going after them by losing weight (secondary). But I’m not a typical person, who only has his cheeseburger-to-miles-run ratio to consider. I’m a weightlifter, and other factors enter into the picture. Other things that make me feel in control and satisfied are lifting heavy things — and, frankly, being kind of big. When, in the midst of losing those pounds, I was suddenly able to deadlift 50 pounds less than normal, that didn’t ring up nicely for me. And seeing a one as the first number on the scale? Okay, truthfully that was causing a bit of approach-avoidance.

And still, if a certain freakishly strong librarian who somehow can’t spell for shit reads this, he’s absolutely going to call me a big pussy for nixing my goal. (Although it’s really a toss-up, because he also says that any man under 200 pounds is a Hobbit. He’s a strange guy, Dan the Librarian.)

But screw it. Screw it, because goals are living, breathing things. When a politician changes his mind, they call it “flip-flopping,” and that’s bullshit because when the situation changes, reevaluating your position is not flip-flopping. It’s being flexible, which is something that I personally would like to see in a leader. And by contrast, holding tight to a no-longer-defensible position “just because” is idiotic.

So yeah, I quit. I absolutely quit, and I’m now back around 204, and it’s cool because I feel happy and healthy and in control of things again. I get to eat shitty but delicious food now and again, and when I go to the gym, I can lift heavy things. Life is good.

Sometimes quitting means you suck. But sometimes, if you don’t quit but should, that’s when you suck. It’s a delicate balance in life, trying not to suck. You just have to do your best, and keep your level of suck to a minimum. And sometimes eat Oreos. Mmm, Oreos.

While Austin’s class is going on, there’s also another group in the pool. One kid in that class always catches my eye. I’d guess he’s six or seven years old and he won’t sit still. He’s always running recklessly on the deck and hopping up and down in the little gutters that run around the the pool’s edge. His name is Logan, and I know this because the instructor is always saying, “Logan, SIT DOWN!” and “Logan, put that away!” or “Logan, climb off of that woman’s head!”

I noticed Logan in the pool because for a while, Austin took preschool gymnastics and Logan was in the class after his. We even attended some sort of a gymnastics show during this period, and Logan was part of it, jumping up to swing on the bars and tumbling on the balance beam.

This is all pretty pedestrian until you realize that the kid is blind. Which, by the way, you don’t realize until he leaves, when his mother hands him a long white cane with a red tip.

I am totally inspired by Logan.

I go through every day being able to see what’s in front of me and what’s around me. I make my living by looking at a screen all day. I take for granted that when I need something, I can drive my car to get it. When I get tired, I can be entertained passively by a TV or relatively passively by a book. I can quickly sort through clothes and see what I’d like to wear. I can see when my hair looks like a bird’s nest or when my fly is unzipped. I can watch my kids play.

Logan can’t do any of that, but here’s the thing: He doesn’t care. He’s not feeling sorry for himself. In fact, I’d wager that thanks to his mother, he doesn’t even know he has an obstacle.

You can see this by watching him, by the confident way he’ll ill-advisedly jump up and down on a wet pool deck in the same way my sighted kid will. You can tell by the way he’ll walk a balance beam without hesitating. He knows he’s different, sure, and I’m sure he knows a few alternate ways to be safe in the absence of sight. But his mother could have kept him out of the pool. She could have kept him out of gymnastics class.

You see this kid and you’re like, “Wow, I really don’t have obstacles in my life.” Because if you can watch Logan and still maintain that you have problems, you’re either dying of cancer or something, or, more likely, you’re just being a big wimpy dickbag.

See, “problems” are mostly objects of perception, not reality. And confidence and empowerment? Those are both choices.

Logan’s mother could have decided that he will grow up to live the life of “a blind man.” That would have had a certain base level of satisfaction. But instead, she made a different choice. She decided that he’s going to live the life of “a man, who happens to be blind.”

If you’re starting to feel like your sore back and your credit card debt are kind of minor problems, then good. They are.

I have this fantasy. When I’m really rich, I want to start some sort of a fund to award cash prizes to awesome people. People who are just living their lives, faced with what others might think is a huge challenge but which they themselves see as “just how it is.”

People without major ailments are constant victims of minutia. They will say, “I’m too young to do that. I’m too old. I’m too tall, too short, to dumb, too poor, too fat.” None of that is true. You hear about eighty-year-old women climbing mountains, and destitute people starting billion dollar businesses.

I want to start my awesomeness fund, and I want to catch people who simply were never told that they had a major handicap and were therefore supposed to give up on life.

If you think you can’t do something and feel like the weight of the world is on you, I have three things for you to watch — all of which are contenders for the Johnny B. Truant’s Award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Excellence.

1. Ben Underwood
If you think you can’t do something because of X, Y, Z, or Obama, WATCH THIS VIDEO. It is astonishing. Seriously. I’ll just sit here while you watch it and crap your pants in disbelief. Check out the trash can bit at the 1-minute mark. Then change those pants.

Serious kudos also go out to Ben’s mother, who was able to grow up with enough confidence to inspire her son while saddled with the hideous handicap of being named “Aquanetta.”

2. Lazy Legs
I can’t stand that show America’s Got Talent, but that’s where the world met this kid. He can’t walk unaided. He’s got those wrist-bracelet crutches that most able-bodied people see and immediately think, “Oh, wow, that guy is fucked.” If he were “normal,” he’d maybe walk when he could but would spend a lot of time on a Rascal scooter. But instead, he gave himself a nickname that accentuates his difference — and check out the shit he’s able to do.

Unfortunately, Lazy Legs was eliminated from America’s Got Talent early-on and a singing ventriloquist went on to win the season, proving once and for all that this country is — demonstrably and definitely, through thick and thin and without question — utterly fucked.

3. Kyle Maynard
This guy was born with no arms and no legs but I’d seriously bet that he could kick your ass, and then steal your girlfriend. Seriously. Like, I think I may even want to make out with him.

Most people get a deep cut on their finger and decide they can’t type for the day, so they go home. Or they’re rejected for a job or cut from a team and they give up on their dream of success. You know what we call that in a world with Kyle Maynard? We call it being a lame-ass douchebag. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you lame-ass douchebag.

The next time you come up with a reason why something can’t be done, just ask yourself if you’re ever going to win JBT’s awesomeness award with that attitude, you big pussy.

	The first ten people who join through my link will get my Zero to Business course for free.
	The next ten will get an hour of consulting (tech or strategy) with me, to iron out any of those pesky tech questions you run into as you’re building your Project Mojave “Freedom Business.”
	The next ten will get a free membership in my soon-to-be-debuted Jam Session series with Charlie Gilkey of ProductiveFlourishing.com. This will be launching soon, and it’s going to be so awesome. Here’s the preview call. Twice each month, Charlie and I will record an hour-long jam session on business and on being a southern guy who likes grits (guess who that is). In one of those calls each month, we’ll be joined by a yet-unannounced guest who is so cool, he or she will make peak-era James Dean cower in shame.

And naturally, if you’re first but want consulting or Jam Sessions instead of the Z2B course, that’s fine by me.

So, you want Project Mojave and want some free stuff too? Here’s how:

1. Use this link to sign up for Project Mojave.

2. Email me the confirmation that you get after you’ve joined.

3. I’ll hook you up with your cool stuff.

Oh, and by the way? You might want to do it fast not only because my free stuff will run out, but also because on the Project Mojave end, Clay has a bunch of bonuses for the first 100, 25, 5, and 1 people to join as well. You’ll have so much free stuff that you won’t be able to go to the bathroom without setting it all down. Inconvenient, but awesome.

Do it, dude.

There. I said it. You can’t do it.

See, I’ve run into this problem. I try to be a really honest guy. I try to call things like I see them. I try to explain exactly what is really going on in my life, and to be upfront about the things I know and do not know, that I feel and do not feel. I try to treat people with respect and to never insult a person’s intelligence by blowing smoke up their ass.

(I originally mistyped that as “… blogging smoke up their ass,” although I guess that’s essentially the same thing.)

But as I see more and more of this internet marketing and (fucking BARF) “make money online” space, I start to realize that while some people will use courses and products to build excellent businesses based on real, logical, honest principles — businesses that will free them from their old nine-to-five and give them more time to spend with their families — many people will not. Many people will fail.

The simple truth about life is that not everyone is going to succeed. Not everyone will win. Not everyone is able to do it.

I’m tired of people claiming that anyone can be a success. It’s not true. If I could find a turn-the-crank formula for success sufficient that anyone who used it would become successful, I’d be more rich than Bill Gates’ sophisticated one-liners.

Not everyone who tries will achieve what they set out to do — even under the best instruction and with the best of intentions. Many will fail. Many people will attempt to build something and will not. True fact of life, here, people. Everyone cannot do it. DAMMIT, EVERYONE CANNOT DO IT.

I see claims that “XYZ course will make you rich,” and I hesitate, as the collective internet has learned to hesitate when their bullshit meters start to chatter like a Geiger counter.

But me? As a guy out there in the space? Well, there are courses I advocate. Luckily, none of them swear that they will absolutely work, because that’s total skullfuckery and I won’t associate with a product that makes that assertion.

People come to me covertly, thinking I’ve been exaggerating when I say in public that I like something. They think I’ll finally come clean and tell them the truth if they talk to me one-on one.

They’ll ask me, “Does Online Business School work? Will Tim Brownson’s book really make me ‘Rich and Happy‘? Will Project Mojave really make me a success, allow me to build my freedom business, and get me out of my boring job?”

And the answer is… No.

None of these things “work.” Buying a course or consulting or advice or whatever, of any kind, is like buying a set of really great tools. You still have to use them.

A product is a product. A course is a course. It has no bias, no affinity, no resonance, no likes or dislikes. If I use it and you use it, it will treat us both exactly the same. Yet, some people invest in courses and fly while others crash and burn.

I am a part of Project Mojave. I am a Project Mojave affiliate. I am a friend of Clay Collins. Yet I would not be able to look myself in the mirror if I were to tell anyone that Clay has found the magic formula that will work for anyone, because it’s simply not true.

If all it took was desire and a roadmap, everyone who invested in XYZ course would quickly become a millionaire. EVERY SINGLE ONE. And the creator of XYZ course could charge a million dollars, two million dollars, whatever… because his method would be infallible. Spend a million now, make a million every year for the rest of your life. Guaranteed.

But that doesn’t happen. I don’t care what product we’re talking about or which guru created it. There is no roadmap that is infallible. A product is just a product. A course is just a course.

So let me step back. Pretend I’m looking you in the eyes. And I’m saying, “Project Mojave launches tomorrow. I recommend it. I like it. Clay is legit; he’s done what he says; people in Project Mojave have done what he’s done. But you may fail. You may find that you invest all of this money and get nothing. You may find that you can’t do it.”

Think of that analogy I made earlier, of a course as a set of tools.

Maybe you’re building a new house, board by board. Maybe you want the house to be decked out in beautiful maple trim — baseboards, chair rails, crown molding that fits neatly at the corners without using cheater’s blocks. You have a circular saw, but people tell you that in order to do that fine of woodwork, you’ll need a top-end table saw and an assortment of custom jigs. You’re into woodwork, so you invest the money. You get the exact saw that the top carpenters recommended. You paid through the nose, but it will be worth it.

Now let me ask you: Does that mean you’ll have great woodwork?

Maybe. Maybe you’ll spend a lot of time learning that saw, be patient, try and try again, learn from other great carpenters, and produce an outstanding job.

Or maybe you’ll just start throwing shit through the saw haphazardly.

Maybe you’ll ignore the manual and use it incorrectly, or use the wrong blade.

Maybe you’ll find other things you’d rather be doing. Or maybe it’s even more justifiable than that; maybe your life is simply too busy. You have the kids during the day, your spouse at night, your part-time job wherever it fits.

So if you’re still reading this, you may be thinking, “That’s not me. I’m dedicated. I’ll read the manual. Practice on scrap wood. Consult a master carpenter. I’ll take lessons. Get the best blades. I’ll take my time and move slowly.” And then, if we were face to face, you might say to me, “If I do all of that, it’ll work. Right?”

Look… No. The answer is still No. There is nothing that is infallible, even with all of the dedication in the world. You might do everything right and still fail. You might follow the instructions perfectly and have this great, dedicated heart. You might want it more badly than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

And you may still fail.

Nothing is one hundred percent. Nothing is ever guaranteed to work. Come to me a thousand times and ask me if X is the answer or if Y is the way to go, and I’ll always say that even if it looks good, even if I love it, even if I used it and kicked ass and found it easy, there are no guarantees.

I hate it when people say, “Anyone can do it.” I hate it when gurus tell you to follow their formula and you’ll soon be in the Bahamas, surrounded by hot chicks. And I really hate the expression, “If I can do it, anyone can.” (Because one, it’s a lie, and because two, it’s such a knock on the person saying it. It’s shorthand for, “If I can do it, certainly anyone else can, because I’m the dead monkey assistant to Megan Fox, who isn’t exactly a brain surgeon, and because I can’t sell a thing thanks to the untrustworthy appearance of these fifteen scrotums hanging from my face.”)

Still here? Cool.

I’m going to strongly suggest getting in on Project Mojave when it opens tomorrow.

Then I am going to tell you that 3.8 months from now, you may still not have your freedom business. I’m going to tell you that it is not infallible and that you may fail. I’m going to tell you that there’s a chance you’ll put money down and get… nothing.

But then I’m going to tell you that the success stories I’ve seen inside are amazing. I’m going to remind you that Clay will be playing this hand of poker along with you, with his cards face up on the table so that you can see his every move. I’m going to remind you that in all probability, you’ve gambled at least as much money on less certain ventures, or pissed it away month by month as the $25 upcharge on your cable bill so that you can get Showtime and HBO. You’ve bought the Blackberry and data plan that you didn’t need. And if you went to college? Shit. I went to a cheap-as-hell school and my parents still spent $25,000 on an education I never used.

I know that while it’s possible that you may fail, it’s also quite possible that you may succeed. I know that while the best table saw in the world does not guarantee excellent woodwork, it does greatly improve your chances.

So here’s the deal.

I mentioned I’m a Project Mojave affiliate. I’m in this like a partner, and what I can do if you help me along the way to helping yourself is to offer you some stuff that will help your progress if you do join. A bit of a Mojave support net, if you will.

The first ten people who join through my link will get my Zero to Business course for free. (Disclosure: Originally, Clay was thinking he’d include this in Project Mojave proper, but it is NOT CURRENTLY IN THERE. That may change again, but currently you will not get it with PM.)

The next ten will get an hour of consulting (tech or strategy) with me, to iron out any of those pesky tech questions you run into.

The next ten will get a free membership in the call series with Charlie Gilkey that I mentioned. (Again, here’s the preview; the actual series hasn’t launched yet.) Charlie and I will do two “Jam Session” calls per month where we talk about aspects of online business (and maybe Charlie will drink so that his accent intensifies). One of those calls each month will be just the two of us, and the other will include a cool special guest to jam with us. (I don’t want to reveal guests yet because I’m not sure who has officially confirmed, but they’re awesome and will “jam” well with our slow jazz vibe.)

Here’s how we’ll do it, if you’d like to hop on the Project Mojave awesomeness train and get free shit in the doing:

1. Go here and join the PM mailing list so that you know when it’s launched.

2. Then, when it’s launched and you’re ready to join, come back here and go through that link above again. (Mine has to be the last link you use.)

3. Email me the confirmation that you get after you’ve joined.

4. I’ll hook you up with your cool stuff.

I hope to see you around. Rock this shit.

————-

It’s kind of ironic (not erotic, although it’s that too) that I used to have a website at LearnToBeYourOwnVA.com but am now planning to HIRE a V.A. (a “virtual assistant”) instead of being my own. Funny how that works. See, if your business is brand new, it makes sense to be your own V.A. and do all of the things a V.A would do by yourself. But as you grow and your time gets short, it starts to make more sense to invest some money and hire someone do to the little things for you.

Basically, I’m looking for someone to take some of the administrative work off my desk so that I can focus more on serving my clients and writing lots of hilarious stuff for like ten different websites. And on chickens. And beer. So I need a V.A to help me me clear the clutter so that I can do that.

(By the way, in case you’re new to this concept and don’t know what a virtual assistant is, think of an “assistant.” Got it? Okay, now imagine they have to work with you while not being anywhere near you and hence would be working “virtually.” That’s the basic concept, although “virtual assistant” recently has come to mean a speciality in all of those things I was trying to teach on LTBYOVA.com… mailing list stuff, blog posting and management, shopping cart miscellany, and so on.)

I’ve decided to do this because:

1. I have fifty thousand projects going on at once and have fifty thousand more that I kind of want to do, and
2. I can’t keep them all straight or pursue many of them, because
3. It takes me hours and hours to go through my email each day, and
4. A lot of what needs to get done in my business could easily be done by someone other than me, and besides
5. I know there has to be a more efficient way to do things than the way I’m doing it now but I don’t know what it is, and most importantly
6. I don’t want things to fall through the cracks, which is kind of dangerously close to happening now because it’s hard for me to keep track of things.

So, in the grand spirit of my doing everything in public, I figured it made sense to chronicle my own process of finding, hiring, and working with a V.A. here, on the blog, so that other folks who are thinking about doing the same can learn from my experience. Or maybe take it as a warning.

Now, luckily, I happen to be in cahoots with Marcia Hoeck, who I know I can trust because not only has she done a ton of research into the best ways to find, hire, and work with V.A.’s, but also because I lived with her for the first 18 years of my life. So when I realized that I was going to need to hire someone soon, I asked her about it and we decided on this little reality show.

So what I’m going to do, first and foremost, is to listen to the free teleclass she’s doing this coming Wednesday. (You should sign up for that too if you’re reading this. C’mon.. what are you, chicken? It’s free. Sign up and listen along with me.)

Then I’m going to get her book (available soon; join the teleclass list to be notified) and read it. Fortunately, since I’m in charge of her websites and because I’m her son, this part is easy.

Right now, that’s as far as I’ve gotten. I honestly don’t even know what I need. Like, you know how sometimes you know you need help but don’t know what the hell you need help with? That’s me. I figure a V.A. could definitely sort my email and get rid of the spam before I see it. I figure she could remind me of things I need to do at various times, track my projects, and keep me on task. But beyond that? Yeah, I kind of don’t know.

There’s also the issue of cost. From what Marcia tells me, good V.A.s typically charge $30-$35 per hour and expect a retainer of at least 10 hours of work per month. That means I have to be willing to part with at least $300 more a month than I am now, which is daunting.

An extra complicating element? I jokingly said on Twitter, “I need an unpaid intern.” A few people surprised me by responding seriously, saying they’d like to do that in exchange for some one-on-one consulting and copies of my courses and products. So I’ll be interviewing these people too, but am honestly not sure whether I’m comfortable with an uncertified non-pro having deep access to my stuff.

I do think that if I have someone working for free, they will end up working WITH a paid V.A. who can train them in the best ways to do things. That’s for two reasons: One, the folks who want to “virtually intern” with me don’t have the technical skills I need from a pro V.A., and Two, training an intern to do my stuff won’t actually free up much of my time, which is kind of the whole point of this thing.

Now, if you’ve ever done anything like this, you may see how daunting of a task it is. How do you find a V.A.? What should you ask them? How do you know if they’ll be a good fit, and how do you know if you can trust them? I heard a story of a woman who hired a V.A. and, after a long and drawn out struggle with him, found out that the guy didn’t even have a computer and was trying to manage her stuff piecemeal on an iPhone. I don’t want to end up with that story.

I kind of don’t know the answer to any of the questions I just listed. I’ve never hired anyone before, yet everyone says that smart business owners outsource “the little things” so that they’re freed up to do more selling, more prospecting, more creative work, and so on.

If you’re at all wondering this stuff along with me, sign up for that teleclass on Wednesday. It’s free.

This is all going to be quite interesting.

Anyway, I had three guest posts in two days in big places and I’m betting a hell of a lot of you missed them.

So here’s what’s on the menu:

1. “Normal is for Suckers” | Project Mojave Blog
Read this one first because it’s epic. I called Clay Collins out on actually being 1990s white rapper “Snow” in the past, but now I’m just telling everyone that’s just batshit crazy. And I’m crazy. And you may be crazy. And guess what? It takes crazy to succeed. Bet on it.

So Clay and I were talking on the phone the other day (a tricky business involving hiring two Indian sherpas and a team of dogs to deliver a phone to wherever he is at the time, like in a bat cave or perhaps at a Starbucks) and we got to talking for maybe an hour and he started asking me about my purpose.

He’s like, “Dude, I really want you to stay involved with Project Mojave. But at the same time, I only want people in it who really believe in the idea of seeking freedom.”

And I’m like, “Dude, I’m all about freedom. It’s like, my reason for living. My coach Tim Brownson did this values process on me and Freedom was number two. NUMBER TWO, dude.”

And he’s like, “What was number one?”

And I’m like, “Chicks, dude.”… (more)

2. “Four Ways to be More Interesting” | Copyblogger
This one is about how to be more interesting. I don’t remember how many different ways I came up with to do it.

I’d like you to stop and think about something for a second.

Try to remember the last time you visited a site that had good, solid content but read like a technical manual. I’m talking factual and helpful, but not terribly compelling.

Maybe you wanted to know how to gap your spark plugs. You searched, you followed links, and you found an on-target blog that told you how to do exactly what you wanted to do. The instructions and site as a whole were dry, but very informative. You read, you took notes, and then you went out and used what you had learned.

What next? Well, assuming you’re not a true car devotee, your problem was solved once you were done gapping those spark plugs. You didn’t really need any more car tips, so you moved on…. (more)

3. “Johnny Talks About Motivation” | IttyBiz
This one is an example about how I sometimes write bad headlines. It’s Naomi’s fault; she likes to have “Johnny” in all of my post titles there so that her mother doesn’t read one of my posts, enjoy it, and be tricked into liking me against her will. But don’t let the bad headline deter you; the post is about lighting a fire under your ass, what it takes to make serious shit happen, and kung fu parables.

I heard a story a while back that was really awesome, but I forget where I heard it and I forgot the specifics of the whole thing. I’m going to try to tell it anyway. So let’s everyone lean back in our chairs and take a sip of coffee while I fuck up a perfectly good allegory… (more)

Enjoy.