At least once a year someone out there publishes a long article announcing the imminent demise of the blog. More bloggers than ever are giving up, content saturation is alienating a lot of readers, and the rise in popularity of different mediums will be the final nail in the coffin.
It’s always been like this.
Out of all the bloggers I’ve networked with when I launched my first blog in 2012, only a dozen or so still publish regularly.
Out of all the bloggers that I’ve personally coached, only a dozen or so still publish regularly.
And out of all the people who decide to start a blog this year, only a small percentage of them will still publish new content regularly by the end of the year.
Did you know that you can deduce how much money someone earns by asking them a simple question?
You can, in fact, deduce a lot about them, about their principles, ethics, dreams, and goals.
What is that question?
Well, it’s simple.
“Do you believe in work-life balance?”
If it takes you less than 10 seconds to have a negative emotional reaction to what I am implying here, stop and think about why.
If you feel the need to say, “Yeah, but…” you should also stop for a minute and ask yourself if life’s a balancing act or not, and if going through life as if walking on tightrope is the only available option.
If you pay close attention to extremely successful people sharing stories about their habits and principles, you’d notice they’re all about the hustle.
Elon Musk once shared a piece of simple advice, “Work like hell.”
The trouble is, most people burn out. Folks end up in the hospital. Some even worse.
You will want to create something of your own. You will want to do what you can, with whatever’s at your disposal at that moment. Right there, right then. If you have to write your story on a piece of napkin, so be it. If you have to sketch on your phone, fine.
When you find your muse, you will feel yourself becoming addicted to the promise of doing work you hope could last forever…
For most of my twenties, there were so many things I didn’t want to be true about myself.
I believed I was quite unlovable, which was my excuse for not trying to be worthy of love in any way. I believed I’d always struggle financially, so I made no serious effort to earn more, to save more, or to build multiple streams of income.
I believed that life was harsh, that people didn’t like me for being skinny, kind of ugly, and not nearly as charming as everyone else, so I lived in a state of perpetual fear — I somehow expected the world to decide that I wasn’t worthy of living on this planet anymore and send me off to spend the rest of my life on the dark side of the moon.
All information indicated that I was right: the women in my lifeeither didn’t want to be involved romantically with me or left me after a couple of months. I always struggled to earn enough to pay the bills. I didn’t have that many friends.
Life was a pain. Hell was other people. And I was but a shadow traveling through life at the speed of your average bus, sometimes a cab or an Uber.