“Would you look at the monogamy on that one”, we’d yelp as she walked down the street, or into the restaurant, or on some sort of public...
Tina sat in her chair fuming. She hated everything about her life. Her ugly cubicle, the ridiculous new account she was on, her idiotic boss – most...
About ten years back I knew a super talented designer. They had more than just pure skill, their dedication and hard work ethic opened doors for them....
I was having a chat with two other gentlemen at the eMarketing Association conference (eM13) this evening when I noticed something: we were all single founders with...
I’m the founder and CEO of Cubicle Ninjas. I’m an entrepreneur and designer whose work has been featured by Adobe, Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and others. I work with Fortune 500 brands to start-ups in building more powerful creative experiences.
“Would you look at the monogamy on that one”, we’d yelp as she walked down the street, or into the restaurant, or on some sort of public transportation which would signify her plain normalcy.
A simple purse, not yet ballooned with age for storage space of hundreds of tiny specialized gadgets. It was small, black, and tight in a way that spoke utility. The smell – should we be lucky enough to reach the vicinity – would have been that cheap plastic leather assault on the senses, a smell that is at once offensive and cost effective. Should she have decided to upgrade to a real animal it wouldn’t have the same charm.
Eyes followed her effective disaffection.
The high heels of her shoes made a echoed clack which was impossible to reject. It was as if the first beating of a tiny heart, or the moon’s pull across the oceans, and to deny the intuitive rhythm would be like denying breath.
When reading in public the main rule is to remain confident. Focus in on the book and commit. For everyone in the car or booth or sidewalk is watching for that smallest of weakness, proof that you aren’t actually so invested in your hobby but instead walk around like ex-wives and their little screaming dogs as show-things. And she must have instinctively known this as her eyes scanned the pages dipping into the text with a lust reserved for men and paperback.
Marriage is the legally binding contract for compromise.
When you were five and stuck in a smelly room with shapes and numbers on the carpet floor you were being weaned for this very moment. Or in the winding lunchroom lines where half of your given time is spent being polite and waiting and not doing what you want to do. Sharing is the golden rule of childhood, but yet we all find ourselves fighting against it naturally. And it isn’t like a fight between a lion a spry herd, where even on some sub-conscious level we can recognize: “This. Makes. Sense.”
This fight involves a trillion cells screaming in tandem for oxygen. Each of them uncontrollably clawing at their fragile cages. If it were possible for them to revolt, pouring out by the tablespoon of the fleshy sacks that hold them, and find a new life in a better place, they would. Should choice be crowned upon them you can imagine that they’d exercise it.
But if we truly believed in our contract we would yearn for it. We’d push that book aside to empty our filled hearts with beautiful accuracy.
Commitment wouldn’t be a plague but a drug. Women would be less excited about the ring. Men would be less excited about the sex. And men and women wouldn’t cower from the responsibility, but drench themselves in the pureness of being one.
Tina sat in her chair fuming.
She hated everything about her life. Her ugly cubicle, the ridiculous new account she was on, her idiotic boss – most of the time she stared at the ceiling and wondered how her company even existed. Tina had hit rock bottom and this horrible place was her 10-ton anchor.
So, she decided to get revenge. She eased up on her work like those fat cats in the glass offices, and she pretended not to know the answers to anything like those dopes in IT, and she sulked by the fridge doling out rumors to anyone that could plod within earshot. She would beat them at their own game yet.
Five and a half years ago I started Cubicle Ninjas and I poured my soul into every action, ever so gleefully. Living eighteen hour days, within seven day work weeks, was not only expected, but to dream otherwise began to feel downright selfish. This absolute obsession (along with a brilliant creative team and oodles of luck) provided the momentum we needed to survive and grow into a thriving studio.
This year I decided to take a breath. And when my eyes adjusted to sunlight I had a creepy thought: where do I begin and this amorphous pile of legal papers end?
Death isn’t a hard concept to get. Things stop; all of them. But what shivers the neurons is the idea that all of our adventures end so bluntly.
One day our experiences are so neatly returned. A lifetime of emotions, each as breathless as to make the written world feel shame, are destroyed. Our frames , and those we love, are reduced to fragments and forced dance around each other through infinity. There is no way to believe that all of this was for nothing. We can’t believe a life could be worth so little. There are no sufficient goodbyes.
This is the story of two Pokemon, doubt, and a dying bird.
Experts often possess more data than judgment.
Did you know smokers save the United States government money?
According to USA Today’s referenced study, the average savings would be around $91k per person. If all 315 million U.S. citizens started smoking immediately the national debt (currently at an impossibly high $16.7 trillion dollars) would be erased. And we’d gain an eventual $12 trillion dollar surplus. If we factor in smoke breaks and extra sick leave for all of the unsightly lung issues, we can pretty safely assume a $6 trillion dollar profit.
So why did the government slowly put the squeeze on smoking?
One fact is clear: it wasn’t altruism.
About ten years back I knew a super talented designer. They had more than just pure skill, their dedication and hard work ethic opened doors for them. In the middle of the great first great depression of the 2000′s they were offered a new position across the country, where they could craft their title, plus moving expenses. Wow!
Super designer was bored.