Springtime

I am not poet
I fail at life when it counts
Yet I continue

Seasonal

Close that browser tab
It will be on sale again
Perhaps in the Fall

California Pizza Kitchen

You shouldn’t do that
You know you shouldn’t do that
Dude, do not do that

More Than One Way a.k.a Income Streams

Moleskinning it up
Scribble scribble scribble scratch
Sell yarn on Etsy

Bombay Area

My project needs work!
I am an entrepreneur!
Calling India…

Barry Schwartz

How do I decide?
All of these options puzzles
Just pick one dammit

T is for Tomato

Pomodoro time!
Tasty break tasty break, good!
Now do it again.

More Than One Way a.k.a Location Independence Love Song

My laptop, my friend
Around the world on a cloud
Google Documents

Maybe?

Just say no. FORREALS.
Yes Men are liars. FORREALS.
Too much going on…

Zen Habits

Leo Babauta
Leo Babauta Leo
Leo Babauta

Please share your own haiku in the comments!

There are rifts between us today.

Me.

And you.

They have nothing to do with the rumbling of the earth, yet recent events bring topsy-turvy hearts and severed powerlines topside. Thoughts of elevation and moral higher ground. We are separated by space and timezone but connected by infinity, though we forget that sometimes.

We yell Southwestward across #alleyways and Mardi Gras. Stomp and throw beads and lust and dirty looks and chest/app bumps and “I DESERVE THIS because…”. Just cause?

We are separated because we do not see the ground shaking from our bedrooms. Our screens are still intact. We are separated because we don’t speak the same language, not because we weren’t taught, but because we never learned.

There is a rift between us that shouldn’t be. A war fought by our grandmothers. Not us! Family recipes, three parts venom and two parts yeast should not be put back into the oven. Does hate exist in genetic memory? Does love?

Sometimes we have to be shaken up to stir it up. We are naturally wired to move when our bodies tell us that something isn’t right. Where do we go when reminded we are small? Why do we perpetuate fault lines that aren’t true? History is everyone’s fault. Take a deeper look. Revolution waits in the cracks.

I was here.

Learn how you can help at these links

Google Crisis Response – 2011 Japanese Earthquake and Tsunami
http://www.google.com/crisisresponse/japanquake2011.html

The American Red Cross
Donate to the disaster relief at Redcross.org or make a $10 donation by texting REDCROSS to 90999. The money will go to those affected by the earthquake in Japan and tsunami throughout the Pacific.

This ain’t the first and this won’t be the last. What about you? Will you stir it up? Will you love?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyZRwizh42o

What scares you? If you’re like most warm-blooded human beings, you’re afraid of something. Some people are afraid of the dark, afraid of speaking in public, or scared stiff every time a spider scurries near their feet…did you just check? Those are some of the more common fears. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, close to 7% of American adults have a social phobia. Even more have a very specific fear…of something. Some of the weirdest ones I found were:

• Geniophobia: Fear of chins
• Barophobia: Fear of gravity (Did I miss the first baby born in space? How is this fear even possible?)
• Mnemophobia: Fear of memories (again, whaaat?)

While our fears may not be as extreme as Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia (fear of long words) and worthy of appearing in the final round of a spelling bee, some of the other phobias I found hit a little closer to home:

• Ideophobia: Fear of ideas
• Ergophobia: Fear of work
• Deciophobia: Fear of making decisions

Fear is a very real thing, and the sooner we learn to deal with it, the sooner we can do something fly–in our personal and professional pursuits. Fears can take shape in many different forms. Seth Godin calls it the lizard brain. Steven Pressfield calls it The Resistance. You might have heard of these guys. They’re pretty damn good at emotional labor and overcoming their fears.

My irrational fear of becoming a Cylon…

The Cylons were created by man. They rebelled. They evolved. They look and feel human. Some are programmed to think they are human. There are many copies. And they have a plan.”
– Battlestar Galactica Opening Prologue

Ever since I was a kid I’ve been fascinated with technology. Science fiction movies and T.V. just get me going. I just love how writers in this genre are able to push the limits of our imagination and create entire fictional universes like Star Wars and FRINGE by asking, “What if…”. Many technologies that were once the dream nuggets of brilliant sci-fi writers long ago are now fully realized. I’m amazed at just how much more cool tech we have today than at this time last year! But there’s a part in all these advancements that make me uneasy. Although I consider myself an early adopter and into new tech, especially with the web, I’ve never had a MySpace account. I barely touch my Facebook profile (my Facebook friends can attest to this) and I didn’t sign up for Twitter until the spring of 2010. Why?

I’m afraid of turning into a Cylon.

A Cybernetic Lifeform Node. Basically a hyper-evolved cyborg indistinguishable from a human being, as made popular by the Sci-Fi series Battlestar Galactica and its prequel-ecessor Caprica. It’s stupid, I know, and for a while I would tell people this stupid idea and they knew it was so stupid that it couldn’t possibly be true for me. But I think it is true for me, at least a little bit. Hear me out!

I have a digital insecurity problem. Like Dwight from The Office, identity theft scares me. I don’t know when it started, or what originally got me afraid of writing or posting about myself on social media sites, but there it is. I tell myself it’s because I’m a very private person (really, Abe?) and I don’t like people all up in my biznass, but that’s not totally true. I really enjoy socializing and meeting new people in-person and online. But I do not wish for my thoughts, dreams, IM’s, spending activity, profile pictures, ATM surveillance footage, friend list, or online dating holler-history to be bundled up into a good-looking digital Replicant/Cyborg/Android/Terminator/Cylon me. I do not wish to CC that email.

But that’s where everything is headed, right?

Science and technology have reached a point where our means are finally catching up with our imagination, and the only thing restricting us from doing visionary work are these moral restrictions that lawmakers are putting into public policy. That, and money.” – Olivia Dunham, FRINGE

Moving on. Time for feats.

The way I see it, it’s only a matter of time before a team of bioengineers, robotics experts, data miners, programmers, and Project Runway stars create the first Cylon. Fine. Hopefully it’s not made with Abe. The point I’m trying to make here is that this is a really dumb fear that I have no control over, so why let it control me? Why did I let it control me for this long? Am I going to continue bottling up my contributions and experiences that can possibly benefit others, for the sake of privacy and safety? Not anymore. Social media is not so social if all you do is lurk and listen. If I am to be as fly as possible, this is a risk I must take. I must share. Great feats should be done out in the open, and the only way I’ll be able to do that is if I squash my irrational fears, starting with this one. Who knows, maybe my story will help someone? Trying to hide from the Internet is exhausting, and I’m sure my story won’t be perfect or pretty or thought-provoking all the time. And that’s frakking okay with me.

Do you have an irrational fear as dumb as mine? Squash and share below in the comments!

First is new.

Being first is risky. The first animal to break from the herd is often the first one hunted and killed.

First is exciting! Your first blog, your first sale, your first show. It’s opening night!!

First is terrifying. Your first blog, your first sale, your first show…gasp! It’s opening night…

First is unique.

First is memorable. A baby’s first steps. The first man on the moon. Your first paycheck. Your first date. Your first kiss.

First is special.

First is painful.

First is revered. Firstborn children were revered by kings and pharaohs and common folk so much that they changed the course of history again and again.

First is personal.

A musician’s first album is scrutinized and criticized, enough to stop many from making a second.

First is fleeting.

First one to the finish line wins, last one there is a rotten egg.

The first company to mind share wins. We Google. We don’t Bing. We Xerox sheets of paper instead of Hewlett-Packarding them. We drink Frappuccino’s and Tivo our favorite shows and wipe our noses with Kleenex.

First is important for many reasons. But second can be just as important…

Second gives weight to first. Second creates momentum, movement, relationship. Second establishes time. Second starts a pattern. The first sound by itself is noise, but add a second and it’s music. Second is meaning. Second can be friend or foe to first, supporter or rebel. There’s a lot to being second too.

This is my first blog post on a brand new site. It took a lot of almost-firsts to get here, but almost-firsts don’t matter.
Firsts do.
And seconds.
And thirds.

Pretty soon we have meaning, and movement, and momentum to change the world for the better and do something fly.

That’s the most important thing, right?