At 20, I moved to Los Angeles to live with Tucker Max for the summer. I didn’t know it then, but I was dropping out of school and I would never come back. At 24, I’m dropping out again. Last week I packed up what little I still own and moved to New Orleans.
When I did it the first time, I was scared. Scared all the time. It’s funny because this time, I was worried every day I had my job for the last year. Is this who I am going to become? What am I supposed to do with all this? But when I left, actually the second I made the announcement I was leaving, all the fear left. As soon as I was given control of my life back, I felt calm and comfortable. At peace. It was a nice bookend to realize this, to realize that fear I felt both times was rooted in a single theme: taking control of my life. Leaving school, that was taking it. Leaving a career, that was acknowledging that I’d given too much of it back.
But this was always my plan. When I made it, I thought it’d take two years; it took closer to three. In the middle of those two events, I’ve racked up more than I ever would have expected. I was the Director of Marketing at American Apparel. I researched for a bestselling book by Robert Greene and 50 Cent. I’ve advised on the release of five of them now. I’ve bought millions of dollars in advertising. I’ve seen my work written about in every major publication I can think of. I’ve been offered two book opportunities and turned them down. I ran one of the biggest and earlier Groupon deals. I’ve traveled. Met with important people. Been humiliated and learned from mistakes. Had power, used power, observed powered. And at the end of it, all I could think was: so…
The middle had its ups, no question. I’m beyond grateful to the people who allowed me to take a shot at them. But it was grueling. Shakespeare once wrote that “between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, all the interim is like a phantasma or a hideous dream.” It was something I struggled to appreciate for a long time, trying not to lose control of the wheel and veer off in a direction I didn’t want to go. To trust in the plan, to accept the commitment. Some people are meant for a certain kind of life. Some are not. It’s important to know where you fall in that.
I’ve not talked about these things on this site for a few reasons. Mostly because I was busy actually doing them. The other reason was I didn’t want to be like the rest of the charlatans out there. I wanted to build up something solid before I talked about myself and my opinions. I just couldn’t see what I’d get out of doing it before that, except feeling like a douche. But now you have it, there I am and ‘what I do.‘
What’s next for me is a book. I’ve already begun working on it. Some of the ideas of already been floating around on here in posts (see: this and this) but it is mostly new material and not what you’d expect of me. This is not the book I’ve dreamed of writing but is the book I HAVE to write now. If I do it right, it will open the door for the former as well.
Anyway, here I am at 24. Not close to the millionaire I naively promised myself years ago I’d be by the time I was 25. But I do have more than I know what to do with. And thanks to Philosophy I can’t see myself realistically chasing that goal very hard anymore. Because when you figure out what is important to you in life, you can throw out all the rest. You can stop chasing ghost and shadows and illusions. You can lean on what is real and what is necessary. And you can laugh and pity those can’t. You can realize, as Seneca wrote, that too often they ‘win’ at the cost of life.
And so you focus on yourself and what you need to do. And block out all the rest.
