Stop Waiting For Good Things To Fall Into Your Lap And Start Busting Your Ass.

Step into my lair and I will reveal to you one of my inner-most fantasies.

Not that kind of fantasy, pervert. Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s more of a professional fantasy, if you will.

I’ve always had this dream that someone big and bad in the blogosphere will magically stumble upon Twenties Unscripted and then give me some cool opportunity because of it. “Hey, want to write for this magazine?” or “Love your blog; let’s discuss a book deal.” It’s every writer’s wet dream and do not let them tell you any different.

However, somewhere along the line, I woke up from that delusion and realized most amazing opportunities, in the blogosphere and otherwise, are carved by your own hands and hard work. Because my birthday is coming up this week and I’ve been way too reflective, I realize I’ve had some dope writing and poetry opportunities this year. These gemstone experiences have defined the bulk of the past year, but I realize none of them were fortuitous happenings. Each one of them was the result of me busting my ass, badgering people to death via email, or an obnoxious combination of the two.

Listen. Everyone has a blog. Blind monkeys have them. Babies probably have them. Saying you have a blog is like saying you have a liver. Who cares? I’ve been met with more than a few eye rolls when I say, “Oh, yeah, I have a blog” because there isn’t any appropriate way to say, “I have a blog that I pour an incredible amount of my life and energy into day after day.” Then you just sound like a self-important idiot and I try to confine my narcissism to once a week at most.

Nonetheless, I’m aware that I’m far from special just by virtue of having a blog. I know that if I ever want my blog to be more than a blip on the Internet radar, I have to work at it tirelessly. Even when I don’t feel like it or even when I have no clue what I will write that night or even if I feel like I’m saying the same thing I said a week or a month ago. And I encounter all of those thoughts every week. What, did you just think I’m bursting at the seams with inspiration on the daily? No, buddy. But, I have to do it. I have to write. Because, nothing in life replaces a work ethic. Nada. Zip. Zero. Unless you’re a Kardashian.

I suffer from Insatiable Syndrome. So, even when good things happen or I’m rewarded for hard work, I have a problem celebrating for any lengthy amount of time before my mind has sped off to the next Great Wall to conquer. My brain only knows how to operate on overdrive which is a very exhausting way to live. Yes, it has paid off in dividends, but it certainly does cause its own set of misgivings. However, it’s the only way I know.

I just think we all have to abandon that same fantasy I mentioned earlier of some amazing opportunity falling into our laps. Sure, it may happen once or twice in a lifetime. But, the remaining abundance of really cool shit that you’ll be fortunate enough to experience will be the result of you busting your ass. The only exception is love. That is usually best when you let it fall into your lap. Everything else you want? Quit whining and go get it.

Most people don’t get cool shit in life because they’re lazy and are willing to stop at good enough. (Yes, this is the hyperachiever in me coming out so please excuse my assholery.) Good enough will pay your bills. Good enough will keep a roof over your head. Good enough will make you a semi-decent human being. But good enough will rarely make you happy.



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