Girl Talk, Because I said So

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My life is one big overbearing opinion. So it only makes sense that I have a mouth full when it comes to relationships. I have spent a life learning hard lessons and watching my friends be left broken hearted only to say once more “Screw him! All boys suck. You will find way better anyways.”

We contradict ourselves in adjacent sentences and still our friends believe us. Even we believe us. It is outrageous.

But the thing about girls, is that we are actually all the same. Ladies rolling your eyes at me because you “are the only girl who doesn’t care about love,” stop. Your fooling no one.

We are hyper compulsive creatures and it’s about time we own up to it. Who ever said being crazy is a bad thing? Like when did it become a bad thing to give a shit? All we want is love. All we want is the one thing people work their whole lives to find. So sue us if we want it now.

Don’t get me wrong any potential mates I might encounter… I’m not going to sneak into your window at night and stare while you breather. We aren’t psychopaths. Well, most of us aren’t anyways. We simply care. It’s the way we were built.

See, the truth is I only know these things because for years I tried to not be this girl. I was always the one saying she wanted to live alone in a flat with an avocado tree while in my mind I was writing vows upon first introduction. I walked through life shielding my heart from the outside world because I didn’t want to be where I had seen so many others. In a ditch of failed hope.

Which is all this is. Hope. Girls hope with their whole hearts, and they get crushed with them too. I know no guy will read this and think “man, she is right.” They save those thoughts for sex encouraging articles. But I do hope girls can read it and realize they are just fine. That what they want to do is the right thing.

you can only regret the things you didn’t try. Not that I’m saying try to call a guy who isn’t answering you 40 times in a row…. That indeed, will cause regret. But don’t be ashamed of liking someone. Don’t be embarrassed if they don’t like you back. If you have a hunch he is fading away don’t claw him down, but also don’t hesitate to throw the “Hey, I might be crazy, but something seems weird” text.

And just remember, one day you will find someone who thinks those compulsive feelings are cute. Better yet, he even want to make sure they stay around forever. That’s right ladies, the nice guy isn’t the only one who wins in the end. The crazy girl does too.

Not Every Day

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Not every day can be a good day.

Two weeks ago I moved into an apartment worthy of a queen. Okay, so the bedroom walls don’t actually extend to the ceiling, but if I put my trash bags outside my door and open it 15 minutes later they are gone. So it only seems fair that Queen Elizabeth would be proud.

I was proud too. Proud that I had worked hard enough to sign my life away to a suffocating rent. Proud that my parents had instilled in me the drive to make my dreams a reality. Proud that I could finally invite people over to a place where my loads of serving dishes fit and could be utilized.

Though of course, as life would have it, before I had even hung the last of my floating shelves, the world decided to ground me. I lost a client, lost an outrageously expensive cord from stupid Time Warner Cable, and all-in-all lost my mind.

This is the thing about life. It’s really good at making you sweat. It likes to tell you just how great you are, then reverse the action and show you every last inch of bad. There are times life will hold you tight, and times it will kick you when you’re down. Life is like that girl on the playground who can be your best friend until you make eyes are her man. Then you better hope her nails are filed down because girls about to claw your eyes out.

Going into business for myself has been a slow process of making friends with that girl. The first time she attacked me I bawled like a little baby to my mom. Same with the second, third, forth and fifth. It wasn’t until I could separate myself from her prissy stance and attitude filled finger shakes that I saw her purpose.

Life isn’t here to beat you, it’s here to make you stronger. To teach you to cherish the good, and fight through the bad. If everything was easy we would have nothing to look forward to. Life is just really good at amplifying the not so easy.

To survive we must look up, keep our head on straight, and remember that nothing is forever. Not even the bad.

Fears Grand Finale

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Lately it seems the topic of every discussion has circled around the concept of fear. Fear of failing, fear of loving, fear of taking a chance. Much like everything else in my life it came at the perfect, and most frustrating, time.

We all fear. I fear my bank account every morning, and each flight I take as it enters cloud coverage. I fear my nephew being made fun of for a mental disability he didn’t chose, and fear what I will say to the first kid who makes him cry. I fear these things because I am human, as we all are.

Waiting to board my flight I watched Jim Carey’s 2014 commencement speech. I have  an unhealthy obsessed with graduation talks. Hearing his words reminded me just why I’ve spent many nights awake until the wee hours listening to J.K Rowling and Ellen Degeneres speak to universities I never attended.

He spoke of how his father could have been a great comedian, but instead he chose the safety net. He took a desk job, and when Carey was 12 his father lost that safe job and the family struggled to make ends meet.

There is struggle in every path, I get that. But the more I watch college graduates wide scale dreams turn into 40-hour-a-week gigs I can’t help but think something has to be done.

I am in no means someone who has broken this mold. I fear on a daily basis, and the only reason I don’t have a conventional job is because no one would hire me. But thank faith they didn’t. Thank faith that I work from home, or an airplane, and have time to write these thoughts down.

The truth is I talk a lot and never truly say what I feel. In grade school I wrote a novel and let two of my friends read it. Every Aquatic Science class I would bring them another chapter filled with a love story I could only wish would come true staring the boy I sat next to. Ever class they left asking for the next bundle of pages. From that point on I knew what my soul wanted. I knew my goal was to write. The only problem was I feared no one would want to read.

In the faith of breaking fear I’m here to say it: I want to write. I want to share my experience with others. And I want to speak. Speak to college students about breaking their own fears and living a life of love. Love for those around them, love for what they do, and love for their own being. To show them that losing a job offer only means they were not at the right place, and that their path is better than the things that don’t stick in their lives. That if you ask your dreams will come, maybe not in the manner you hope, but in the order in which you are meant to have them.

I want to live a life of love and not fear. I want to be 23 and embrace the fact that I don’t know everything, but I know enough to make a change. So here I am universe, all 5 foot 2 of me. I am crazy and irrelevant, but I believe in having the world at my fingertips and am ready to change it for the good.

The Thing That Saved My Career (Before I Had One)

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A break-up. That’s what saved my career. There I was, laying on the floor of my “Shit-Box” efficiency, so it has been deemed, crying past the point of social acceptance. Between swollen eyes and panting breaths I did the one thing I knew best. Pulled out my computer and started working. It was 3am, and the only thing I knew. I had been stuck in a place of wanting a career and wanting to live life. It seemed in that moment the choice had been made.

Before the break up my time had been split wanting a career but failing to jump, and wanting a life but failing to live up. It was not in that moment of change that I was forced to focus on my career, but instead forced to look at the cards in front of me, and make the best of them.

 

I became a “Yes Man.”

A potential client asked for a meeting: Yes Man.

An existing client wanted something new: Yes Man.

I was asked to attend Fashion Week: Yes Man.

Someone wanted me to redo their condo: That can be marketing right? Yes Man.

 

Sure, most of this was an attribute to me hiding behind my work. Staying busy as to not think about the life blow that had just been dealt. But in it I found comfort, and honestly a whole lot of truth. People always say to face your fears head on, but for once what I thought was hiding from fear was working really well.

Clients kept coming. Projects kept coming. My days started to fill with work, and at a moments break I realized I was really happy. Not that I wasn’t happy before, and not that there isn’t still a part of me that hurts, but for once in my life everything I was doing was working and it felt really good.

My break up taught me not to be afraid to take risk or push the limits. To always ask for what I want, and above all else believe in myself. I dated someone who told me time and time again that I was going to do great things, but it wasn’t until they let me go and had no other choice that those things started happening. There is no spite, there are no bad feelings, Life moves on and you learn lessons like bravery and boldness at the times they are most important to have. My break up saved the career I now have, and it will forever be a reason I strive for more.

Why I Do It

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Starting your own business often times leaves you faced with difficult questions: Can you pay your bills? What made you do it? And why? The first two answers have always been easy. It’s a good thing I like $1 rice from Walmart, and because no one else would hire me. It is the third question that leaves me stumbling over words.

I know exactly why I stick it out in the marketing world, but the more I am asked that question the harder it becomes to answer. A process of definitions, background of my days in news, and the rambles of a confused subject often times leave he who questions wishing they would have kept their mouth shut. It’s as if I have this untold secret to moderate success, and I can’t seem to get it out. This was until someone said it for me.

The other day I was struck by a potential client who got it. He understood what I was trying to do in helping small businesses grow. That my goal is much larger than keeping your Facebook updated and your Twitter feed relatable. I’m here to seek out passionate companies, and keep that feeling growing. I want to help people see that it isn’t about throwing huge amounts of money into marketing firms who post stock images for your business. Unless you like stock images, and by all means I’ll find a way.

He made me realize that my goal is for the little guy, the ambitious guy, the me guy. The person who spends their whole life wanting to be something great, and impact others. They stay up until 4 am working and being their next day just hour after. They don’t know what weekends are, and surely don’t take vacations. These people have a dream, and are ready to chase it. They are the reason I do this. To see the dream come to life, and to be part of the hands that got them there.

It is no secret that the social media aspect of my career can be done by just about any 11-year-old these days. I have the research down, and know the value of consistent posting. For me that is just the beginning. When I sign a new client I’m signing a new belief. from that moment on I am embodying their company, and setting in to learn everything it is made up of. I want to know your staff, your voice, how we can most effectively work past the computer screen. I want to know it all. The good. The bad. The beautiful.

So thanks to my potential client, you didn’t just get it, you let me get it too.

Slaves To Failure

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This is a story I have shared before. But it is one that shaped where I am today, and hopefully one that can help someone else in this crazy world we call adulthood:

 

I sat in on a life coaching class a few months back. As we wrote down words on the board to solidify our feelings I was asked if I was resonating with these words. If like the mothers and wives, I fit in.

“Yes, I am a slave to failure.”

At a young age we are told to do great things, be great things, live great things. In contrast we are warned that great things come with time, realistic thought, and hard work. To achieve greatness we must first fail.

“No good things come to those who didn’t struggle.”

My life is wrapped in failure. The fear of failing. The fear of ruining what I have made. The fear of turning away from a dream too quickly because I haven’t failed enough. Failed enough? Is that a joke? The truth is, we fight failure everyday because we let ourselves. I know because I’ve been there, because I let failure take my place:

As an eager beaver intern for a local news station in my college town I pulled on my most appropriate “camera ready” outfit and trotted off to destiny. My life was always meant to serve a purpose, that I was sure. What better way to do it than by the eyes of millions. Or what would one day be millions, when I took over as head anchor on a national channel. Or got my own talk show. Whichever came first.

I remember racing home with fingers crossed hoping the Red Socks would win the baseball world series. If they won, my package was going to air. A mere intern getting a spot on the 9 o’clock news. And there I sat, watching my frightened face peer out of the screen as I became a reporter! I remember thinking, there can be no feeling in the world better than this of starting my dream.

Failure isn’t always bad. But bad always feels like failure.

Though, as the months went on it wasn’t all sunshine and Red Socks wins. I became the failure. I was writing stories left and right, stacking shows all by myself, cutting video and finding video, filming video on cameras I was not legally allowed to hold. And with all this hard work, I was always wrong. Always being yelled at for bad stories and blurry footage, yet always being asked to come in when someone was sick. Working 60 hour weeks but being told I wasn’t good enough to be an actual reporter. My name became Bailey, a girl they hired to a position I was promised. Yes, this is correct. My boss not once questioned why he was now calling the girl who worked there for a year and a half a name that was not hers. Or why there were two Bailey’s on staff, wearing different outfits, at the same time… I was living failure.

And one day, as I sat at the desk I claimed when no one was looking, we heard the screams from his office.

“WHOOOO WROTE THIS STORY?!?!”

Of course it was me. And of course I spelled something wrong. I got that screeching note at least once a week.

In one swift motion he shuffled out of his room on tottering legs, snagged a big red dictionary, the kind your mom uses to decorate but no one ever opens, and slammed it on my desk with a pudgy finger release.

“LOOK. IT. UP.”

What? No words could be said. No thoughts were being processed. With trembling lips I flipped page after page, my long fought battle with dyslexia creeping up on me. Rushing back came the memories of elementary school when I feared pop corn reading and buddy time because I could not make out the words on child book pages. All the years of bad grades due to mixed up letters and triple spell check swarming in around me. Chocking me. Holding me down to this now very small office.

It felt like hours. It felt like days. As the word I no longer remember, finally uncovered itself.

“Spell it.”

A quick glimpse in his direction showed that everyone in the entire office was now focused on me. Focused on the mess of tears and shaking body as I read. Letter by letter. The word that masked my failure. And then, he was gone. Gone into his office where the problem would most likely never cross his mind again. And I was left to decide, do I fight failure? Or do I let it fight me one more time?

My story, like many others is how it so often goes. We hold onto failure because we think great things will come of it. I wish I could say that story ended with an epic speech where I packed my things and left, but it did not. I turned in my two weeks the next day, only for my boss to ask if I had FINALLY found a job…

But I can say it taught me. That experience is why I am here today. Why I want to show people they can chase their dreams, and defeat failure. We have got to learn to stand up for ourselves, even in a world where unpaid internships and being immersed in our work is the norm. I hold great esteem for those who know their dreams and chase them.

Fight for your dreams and love what you do. But don’t let people steal your life, or make you feel like misery. Don’t ever be a slave to failure.