The Big Bucks

It’s funny to me how many people will doubt someone’s capabilities, based on the idea that they don’t think what that person wants is really possible. Let’s call these folks The Scoffers. I’ve encountered many of these. Usually when I say something like “When I’m a millionaire…” Then The Scoffers do what they do best and scoff. Then they usually catch a look at my very serious face and try to suck back the last seconds into their mouths as though they didn’t just say, “yeeaah” mockingly. (I just add their little menial comments toward my drive. And I’ll make sure to wave at them when I drive by in my Maserati.) Knowing both my capabilities and track record, my word is pretty golden. My friend called me “arrogant” tonight. But in a nice way. He said I looked good on paper, and that I liked that about myself. I laughed. Okay, so occasionally I can be mildly arrogant (like this blog). But in a good way. Well, maybe just a productive way for myself. Coming from him, it is a compliment, he knows me pretty well. But he also said he had a dream about me recently: I was featured in something for being the best in my business, working with famous corporations, and in a boardroom telling people what to do (lol). Oh, and I was a millionaire. Not a bad dream. Not a bad dream at all.

* I veered a little away from my “rules” blog. So just for sake of sticking to my former motif, let’s add a few rules to this one: How to become a millionaire. Rule 1: Believe it. Rule 2: Work like hell to get there. Rule 3: Ask someone who knows.

The Chameleon

I was talking to a friend who told me that she could tell the ethnicity of the person I was talking to before her by the way I sounded at the beginning of a conversation. I laughed. She was right. I’m not really sure when I started to do it, but I do it all the time. I replicate the intonation and pattern of speech of the person I’m talking to. Which means if I’m around my Mexican family and friends (or Taco Bell, lol), I sound like a Mexican. With my friends back home it takes on a relaxed slang vibe. And in the professional world, I could be the CEO. I do it unconsciously. I guess in business, it’d be great diplomacy. So I fit, walking around Spanish Harlem, teaching middle schoolers in the Bronx, attending some caviar serving function at the Waldorf Astoria, or a penthouse dinner on Central Park West and 76th. I organically meld with all of them. My counselor called me a chameleon. Maybe it’s because no one can really figure out what I am (Greek, French, Persian, Russian, Brazilian, Spanish, Puerto Rican, German, etc. etc.) that I don’t completely stick out too much of anywhere. Or maybe it’s the fact that I rarely feel out of place wherever I am. I just adapt and go with it. I don’t change into a different person (or I might have joined the CIA). I just refine my mannerisms and dialect (though now I’m thinking I might be a good CIA candidate). Then who am I when I’m not blending into the world around me? Good question. The most authentic...me in my room thinking and not saying a word.

That man is amazing.

Phelps. Eight races. Eight gold medals. 'Nough said.

I love Michael Phelps.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit over the top. But I sure do have a crush on the man. So, I’m watching Olympic swimming last night. If you haven’t heard, Michael Phelps, the Olympic swimmer is trying to pick up eight gold medals this year. And so far he’s doing pretty well. Five events. Five medals. All gold. And the last Olympics he picked up six, taunted by some other athlete who said he would never win all eight. So there was the challenge. Now the race itself although incredibly impressive, was not the part that had me enamored. It was the moments right afterward. The moment when he found out he won. He didn’t scream and shout. He took it in with this look of focus on his face, or really in his eyes. A look of determination. With more races to go, he seemed to say, “I’m not done”. That motivation, that focus, that drive, now that was impressive. That’s a man who came to play. Who can't love a man for that?

The measure of a man.

“The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out.” Thomas Babington Macaulay

I love this quote for the particularly true nature of it. So, the quick and dirty, Edwards cheats on his wife who’s in remission from cancer (just as an aside, I don’t really think there’s any good time he could have done it, but I’m figuring this is the whole “insult to injury”). First he doesn’t admit it. Then he admits it. And now he’s “ashamed”. Oh good lord please. I find it disgusting that few men or women don’t understand the sanctity of marriage. Maybe it’s just the vocabulary. My advice. Look sanctity up. And then if you think you can't live that way, don’t get married. And I would love to stop hearing about people’s remorse after they get caught. Because we all know damn well there was no remorse going on when they were humping that other person. And what, did they shed a tear afterward feeling so “ashamed”? Yeah, I bet. If you don’t think monogamy is for you, move to a polygamist country, get yourself a harem and live happily with your five wives and nine children. Or be a Mormon in one of those cults. You have options. But hanging your head because you’re a pathetic crook who got caught is not a good look. I’d like to believe that there are men and women who have enough strength of character to live their lives with some virtue. Not based on whether they get found out (and they always do). A world where people lived with integrity. Such an interesting and profound concept. Sad, isn't it?

Week/Rule One: If it’s broke, you better fix it.

So, yes, still on my mission for focus and fulfillment. Which means figuring out where to start. Or in my case start to clean up. We all have things that are broken. That ghetto CD player that skips, or the ceiling fan that keeps making noise, or that hole in the shirt we planned on fixing. Always planning. Never fixing. It just becomes part of the junk that clutters up our room, making it all but impossible to move around. And good intentions really don’t mean anything if those good intentions never get done. You just end up with a room full of broken things…in my case—the portfolio. The portfolio that has been worked and reworked and reworked again, but still somehow comes up, as mine was described, “looking green”. Which in designer language is not a good thing. Looking green does not equal looking like the green of a million bucks. My excuse was—what if that's the place I’m at in my career right now? Excuses don't pay. Or get you a career you love. It’s got to get fixed. Which requires lots of time and patience, two wonderful things I need much, much more of. But if that’s what I have to do, then that’s what I need to be focused on. Because if reworking and fixing and changing leads to getting to the next level, then you better believe I’m going to get there. I got four months and three weeks.

Know where you are. Know where you want to go.

I would say that many of us have a problem with becoming successful. The majority has an idealized vision for their life but somehow live outside the vicinity of their dreams, as though it was a gated country club and they are not card-carrying members. For reasons of clarity, we’ll categorize. Non-successful people tend to: know where they are and are complacent, maybe not happy, but complacent. Or they know where they want to go, but don’t know where they are, hence no starting point or clear direction. They tend to wander for years like the Hebrews in the desert. Or they know where they want to go, but their actions and habits negate that desire. Even though I would describe myself as having been pretty successful, I happen to fall into category three.

Ex: I want to be rich enough to never worry about money.
However, I just spent part of my paycheck on a really cute pair of shoes…and a belt…and some jeans. I have a great wardrobe. There are only two people who I’ve met where I’ve liked their clothes almost more than mine. But more clothes, less money, more debt. You get the idea.

So where do I go wrong. Am I too focused on the here and now? What I want at this moment? Sometimes. That’s probably why I just stuffed a Twix in my mouth. But it was sooo good. Is it fear? The fear of not accomplishing what I want and then being seen as a failure? Hmmm…interesting thought. Though I would never categorize myself as a failure. I would just say I’ve had to try multiple routes to get what I want. If the first wasn’t a success, then maybe the forth, fifth or sixth would be. Persistence can get you far. So can being overly confident and not taking no. I read that in a book. I would not say I’m gripped with fear. Though there are times where I worry of loss that my focus becomes well, unfocused. Never a good thing. Is it laziness? My Mexican bloodline had me working since the age of seven, so I’ll say no to that. Or maybe I just don’t deserve it? Hmmm…another interesting thought I had to work out with my therapist. Being left by your father at the age of four will scar you. However, letting his adolescent behavior dictate your worth will scar you more. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m working on it.

Being in any of those categories affects all facets of your life. The worst being never meeting your potential. Or never outshining your potential. I have had successes. Shoot I’ve been to more countries than some people have been states and on my own. But I’m not searching for ordinary. I’d like extraordinary. Forget celebrity, I want a life that inspires.

So I’m giving myself six months to focus.

I’ve been told I shouldn’t stress myself by putting dates on when I need to achieve a goal by. But it drives me. So February 1st it is. Hmmm…on second thought, let me make that five months. January 1st just has a better ring to it. Cliché yes. But it works. Writing my list. Getting to work…an extraordinary life…what could sound better? 01/01/09