Inspiration Leaves Me Floundering

It may already be apparent to you, but I’ve recently realized that the best blogs, tweets and podcasts are the ones that actually do something for me. Seems obvious, right? By “do”, I mean they do at least one of the following:

• Enrich my life
• Inspire me
• Teach me something

Enrichment makes me glad to be human, and quite often makes me feel human once-again. The good stuff makes me laugh, smirk at some bit of unexpected cleverness, or gain a fresh perspective. The best sources of my enrichment are often non-tech, almost always come from unexpected places, especially when I’m not looking for it.

Inspirational content helps me turn my ideas into reality. It helps me zoom past “should I”, turn the corner at “when will I”, and head straight for “I’m doing it NOW.” Paul Graham was big for me a few years ago when I realized how difficult it is for me to feel excited about others’ goals (aka my employer’s). I fancied starting a company of my own as a playground for my self-motivation. Paul’s essays helped me get over the “can I even make it as a small software company?” fear.

Eventually I found a product idea that I wanted to act on, and by this time I’d been inspired enough that I wasn’t crippled by fear. I began building the product, started a company with a friend, and made a run for it. However, that fish has been floundering from the start. It feels like I’m running on the fumes of a vague notion that I once had a fucking clue. Inspiration does nothing for you at this stage. It’s fluffy and airy all the time, which is not the reality that I’m experiencing. This is where the teaching content comes in handy.

Bring it on. I need it.

On the Road – June 23

You might as well look at these and these while you read.

Nebraska started getting hilly, rocky and very pretty near the end. The first 3/4 was pretty boring. As we neared Wyoming the rocks and cliffs started getting higher. The sparse clouds were low and scattered the low flat land, and some of the hillsides, with pronounced patches of shade.

We pulled off at the rest area near Pine Bluffs to wait out a rainstorm that was moving across the interstate 20 miles away. It looked like a bad storm too, so we didn’t want to chance it. We hadn’t hit anything heavier than sprinkles up to this point (and actually never did). After feeling comfortable that we would miss the storm we started driving again, anxious to see what the La Quinta in Cheyenne, WY had in store for us.

Cheyenne isn’t a ghost town, but it’s as close as I ever want to come to one. There were signs of life, but none that I’d like to test for vital signs. A biker bar or two, a 6 foot boot sculpture in front of a local bank, a collapsed two-story building, a creepy “meth makes your mouth look like shit” billboard; those were some of the many things that greeted us when we drove around to take pictures. Then another storm rolled in and the whole place got dark. Time to go back to the hotel.

Our food choices were: Village Inn. Yep, that’s all we saw. It was late and this felt like one of those towns where restaurants close at or before dinner time. Though, come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing any other restaurants. Either way, we were tired of driving and Village Inn was next to the La Quinta.

Might I mention this was the last time we stayed at a La Quinta? It wasn’t horrible, but when compared to a Holiday Inn Express you notice the difference. Sure, you can say it. We’re spoiled. But it’s so much better when your continental breakfast has fruit as an option, when you don’t have to wait for the internet, when your showerhead isn’t clogged, when the towels are soft, and when the coffee is strong(er). Yep, spoiled.

On the Road – June 22

You might as well view these and these while you read.

The drive to Omaha from St. Louis was pretty uneventful, as one might imagine floating through a sea of crops would be. The last few miles had no towering arch surprise. There was no “holy crap that’s a big body of water” bridge over the Mississippi. Nonetheless, Omaha was nice. We arrived around 4:45pm. For some reason I didn’t reserve a hotel ahead of time, which cost me an extra $10, but luckily they still had rooms left. The rooms hadn’t yet been taken by the soccer players that were in town. I knew of their presence from the sign that said, “Please, no cleats in the lobby.”

Before we left for dinner I found out that Saddle Creek opened a new venue called The Slowdown. Why didn’t I know of it sooner? Would it make a difference if I did? Either way, Cursive was out of town on tour, on their way to Portland no less. We really didn’t have the energy, nor the time to see any shows at Slowdown that evening, but I checked the calendar anyway to make sure we weren’t going to kick ourselves later. Turned out we would be driving right by Slowdown on our way to Downtown for dinner. The entrance was on the other side of the building, not the side we drove past on, so it wasn’t impressive. There’s an Urban Outfitters in the same building/plaza? Strange.

Downtown Omaha’s Old Market area is charming. Some people love the look of brick, others try to improve it with paint. Even though the buildings were unpainted, with their upstairs seemingly in disrepair, I thought they looked great. Quite a few have been renovated on the lower floors for storefronts and apartment space. Quite nice. We didn’t venture outside of the Old Market area because, frankly, we didn’t have the energy. And something makes me doubt the rest of downtown would have been as enjoyable. We ate at a place called Michael’s, which turned out to be mediocre Mexican, but what did we expect?

We parked in a parking garage that closed it’s doors before sundown. And by closed, I mean closed. Rolled down and locked up tight. I double-checked with Kristen, “when we entered it said 24 hour parking, right?” Yep, she saw it too. It turns out we were supposed to keep our parking stub with us so we could get in the garage after they stopped letting new cars in (after 7pm?). We were NOT supposed to put the stub on our dash like we assumed. Always read your parking stub. Always. Always. But no worries. We circled the building and found a city worker entering the garage on her way home. She believed our story. She had heard it before.