Halligan Thinks Aloud

Los Altos Boulevard

Back in the good old days, when Fletch and I were sharing an apartment, we used to theorize about life.

Most of the notions that came out of our conversations were funny / useless (“Isn’t it strange how you go to sleep? Your body is there, your brain is working, but you are a million miles away. And yet you like it…”) but others I use every day to this day.

Fletch always said “Strength is your weakness.” What he meant by that was that people with a particularly strong trait developed a tendency to over-rely on that trait and that over-reliance eventually became a weakness. Insightful and provocative words coming from a man whose job revolves around optimizing performance from animals.

My mantra in those days (and, many times, these days): “The most powerful word in the English language is ‘now’.” One of the easiest things in the world to feel is stuck. It happens to all of us, all the time and, ordinarily, the feeling is more imagined than real. It doesn’t seem that way, but, in hindsight, it’s almost always true.

‘Now’ somehow changes the dialogue in such a way that gives a person power. When one becomes focused on what can be done now, somehow the road gets straighter and the world is less complex. What can you do right now? You can clean your office – always highly gratifying. You can read to your child (or someone that you know that is childish). You can empty your email inbox. 

Take a step. Do it now.

Random Babblings

Sorry it's been awhile, life has been calling.  A few scattered thoughts in advance of some more substantial stuff that's on the way:

- If there's a better new record than Nashville by Josh Rouse, I sure haven't heard it.  What a great freaking record.  "Winter in the Hamptons" will be driving my kids nuts for the next month.

- Two companies, two different stories:  One with tons of money and no ability to focus and deliver, the other without the money, but a ton of heart and soul.  Which has it worse?  In this case, it's the one with the money.  Too many resources can really be a curse.

- One of the worst things in the world: a sales leader with a bunch of excuses, provided on demand.

- Hey, management at Silver Diner in Tyson's Corner:  Enough with the Fifties music.  No one likes it and it's too loud.

- Underrated city:  Savannah, Georgia.  Cool downtown.  SCAD!  Oglethorpe Street.  Great airport.

- If you're going to quit, be a mensch and let your boss send the email out.  Jumping the gun and doing it yourself just irritates people.

Weekend Classic Recommendation

Coyote v. Acme

 

One of the pleasures of a long plane ride is that I usually buy the New Yorker.  So many great writers drop in, that it's silly.  One of the best, and certainly the funniest, is Ian Frazier.

Coyote v Acme is perfect for busy people that normally don't have enough time to read.  It's hilarious.  It's short - 117 pages.  It's concise - 20 articles.

The title essay, which imagines a lawsuit filed by Wile E. Coyote vs the Acme Products Co. is worth the price of admission alone.  (If you google it, you can find a link to an unlicensed copy and if you do that, please buy the book if you think it's funny.  Mr. Frazier, I understand writes this stuff in expectation of monetary return.) Beyond that "Have You Ever?", "From the Bank with Your Money on it's Mind" and "Boswell's Life of Don Johnson" are classics.  Hell, the whole thing is awesome.

Next time you're flying, you could be the guy that laughs out loud at his book.  Buy Coyote v Acme.

The End of the Diving Board

When I was a kid, the pool we'd go to had the kind of high dive that insurance companies have now made obsolete.  It was high, it was terrifying, it was a blast.

I remember the first time I went off.  We were there for lessons and the payoff for achieving a certain level of competence was the right to jump off the high dive. 

So there my 6 year old butt was - three stories above the water, sweating bullets, really not wanting to be there.  But I had this odd certainty that I was going to jump.  The thought of going down never really crossed my mind.  I stood at the end of the board for a few seconds, maybe even a minute, but I jumped. 

Fast forward almost 30 years and I'm on a rock in Bermuda, three or four stories above the ocean.  Same thing.  My friends thought I was scared, but I wasn't.  I was just relishing the preflight anxiety.  My heart was pumping, but I knew I was going to jump.  And I did. 

Both times, it was a rush.  The dizzying sensation of standing high above the water.  My palms sweat now as I write this today.

Standing at the edge of the board or on the edge of a cliff for a second is cool.  It's one of those moments when you get to know for sure that you're alive. 

But if you know you're going to jump, then get on with it.  God made us all with jumping off in mind.

Over the last month, I've become engaged in something that could be a super interesting project.  I feel like we're on the end of the board and, very shortly, I'll get to find out if we're going to really jump or not.  If we end up not doing so (it's not entirely my choice), the first thing I'm doing is looking for another rock with a perch above the water.

What edge are you standing on?  What are you waiting for? 

Jump.