I think that was Abraham Lincoln.
[ quick visit to Google ]
Nope. It was Hemingway. From the short story, “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.”
“Doesn’t do to talk too much about all this. Talk the whole thing away. No pleasure in anything if you mouth it up too much.”
Not that I’ve actually read that, but I heard it somewhere along the way.
It suits me.
There’s apparently a neurological component to this one, too. Tell someone you’re going to do something wonderful, and you get a dopamine hit–as though you already did it.
Which I haven’t.
So I won’t.
About a week before I lost my job, a good friend of mine lost his. And about a week after, another good friend expressed disappointment at job hunting. It turns out all the automation out there–on both sides of the hiring desk–is really good at keeping us from having to bother with real, actual people.
Two weeks ago, I was relating a bunch of LinkedIn ideas to the first guy. Yesterday, I typed up several hundred (if not a thousand) words to the second guy between Facebook and email. And that’s when it hit me. I’ve been advocating an account-based strategy for finding work life parallel on LinkedIn.
Your database is your existing network. You figure out where you want to go and fill in the gaps. You develop a content strategy to highlight the quality and relevancy of your body of work (paid or not), you execute, engage, and deliver value every step of the way. You get out there and you fucking shine on like a crazy diamond, borne of dirty coal and unrelenting pressure.
Holy shit. Some things practically write themselves, ya know?
We can look to trends and change to meet them, but that’s not progress. That’s not improvement. That’s just change.
Makes me wonder, how often are we actively seeking better? Versus stumbling into it in our pursuit of change?
Whatever it is, get after it.