It’s your status call. Or your workout. Or your breakfast. Or loving on your spouse. Or playing with your dog. Or hanging with your kids.
Those things.
They might not seem like the priority right now.
After all, you’re busy. You’re stressed. You’re under pressure. You’re on deadline. You’re whatever.
But just then, that’s when they ought to be.
It’s lonely at the top.
And unattached.
And on the road.
But that’s what you wanted.
And that’s where you thrive.
So get over it.
And get a dog.
You could see it. You could smell it.
You could hear the engine pouring it through the open hood and rear.
It was clouds of old, broken down car emissions.
It stopped my dog and me in our tracks.
Poor guy. His car was giving him trouble.
If he only knew, though, how grateful I am for the perfect image of how real this global warming thing is.
I hope he fixes his car.
I hope we fix all of our cars.
How do you decide if something’s worth your time (or not)?
Ask yourself some questions.
Each of these questions is a sufficient condition. So yes to any of them means it’s worth your time assuming one thing: It doesn’t hurt your relationships with your friends or family.
What does that mean?
Aimlessly scrolling social media, working too much, watching sports alone, etc. are probably not worth your time.
It’s the foundation of long-form improv.
Yes, and…
Agree and add to it, basically.
Makes fun conversations more fun. And makes annoying ones less annoying (by essentially mocking and one-upping the annoyingness).
Try it.
Your friends, family, and coworkers might appreciate it.
And, I guarantee you will.
Sometimes things stick with you.
Those things.
When they’re genuine, they’ll win your heart and mind forever.
Need to create a proposal?
Want to write a book?
Have a party to plan?
Outline it.
Then outline the outline.
Then outline the outline’s outline.
And so on.
Now your thing is created, written, planned.
And wasn’t that pretty easy?
In a world of ordinary, you have two choices.
The former might serve the masses. But the latter might delight and drive unshakeable loyalty among all that you need.
I used to go to summer camp.
It was four weeks long.
The beginning was really exciting, sometimes scary, but overall a lot of fun.
The end was similar, but was also was a bit sad that things were coming to an end.
As for the middle, well, that was the most predictable. Daily activities, four meals per day, and a handful of really special days.
Summer after summer, it became clear that the middle could be like the beginning and the end.
You just gotta make it happen.
So if your life is a summer at summer camp, remember you don’t get to go back next year.
Make the most out of the middle.
Something keeping you up at night?
More than one thing?
Write ’em down.
Now you won’t forget ’em.
Now they’re in the plan.
Now you can sleep.
And if, of course, there’s nothing you can do about the things, even better. There’s nothing you can do.
Now, sleep.