Like everything past 2005, it was influenced by Google.
Unsatisfied with my job almost as much as my life, I thought the "big idea" could save me.
The big idea.
Like Google, Facebook, or Napster . . . more obscurely, like Curve Dental. "A rebel with a cause no else is smart enough to understand."
Ideas are easy.
Work is hard.
Especially if you're me.
Flashback-to-my-life-time, you're thinking.
Well, no and yeah, I guess. But not really.
First and foremost, let's lay down the rules here: I will not bitch about my upbringing, parents or step-parents. I will not lay the blame on what I haven't known or wasn't taught or why I'm 27 and haven't accomplished a damn thing worth making my children proud.
Children? Yep, two beautiful daughters.
This text I want distribute to those who know me, and I figure it will find, in time, those who are like me.
And there are so many like us, those 90's kids, that place the blame on everyone.
That hasn't gotten us anywhere.
Here's the big revelation:
I was raised, like everyone in my generation, to believe that I was special and intelligent. SPECIAL. Love, that, don't we?
Well, I thought I was so special that I stopped applying myself. I thought I could balance the world's needs on my finger, and they would throw money at me, because I was "special."
We're not. If you truly are special, you're not reading this blog. If you're like me, then, well, let's sort this nonsense out.
Before I keep yanking you around here, let's establish who I am.
