I am the reluctant entrepreneur.

When you tell people you are an entrepreneur they pat you on the back and say good Job! What an adventure you’ve embarked on! How mature and resilient you must be! You must truly believe in yourself to be on this path!

If only they knew the truth.

I am not here because I became bored with a life of quiet desperation. I am here because I want a living.

I grew up in a time where a good education meant a good job and a good life. Dreams were a possibility, but not before that safe, stable occupation that you could fall back on.

When I left school, I learned that I had already outlived my usefulness. Most of the safe, stable occupations were gone. Those that remained became code for “replaceable”. The reward for an honest days work went from an honest day’s pay to a pink slip so the company can make dividend.

I have learned that I am a marked man. My worth to society will always be suspect no matter what I do or who I work for. My future will require every idea I have and every ounce of strength I can muster. My destiny will not depend on just my own efforts, but by the testimony of every single person I help in my life. I will not rest until that number is legion.

If I emerge from this trial smarter, stronger, and wiser, will I still be reluctant? Won’t I be a better person? I remain reluctant because I had no choice to become what I am. The very idea that I could choose is brutal fiction that robs lives and dreams every single day. I don’t want to just see a better me, I want a better world. One where our worth is not dictated by a number in an annual shareholder’s report or a capricious human resources department. We all have something to give but too often it’s wasted by our own arbitrary barriers. We should be free to give our best in all things. Until then, I remain the reluctant entrepreneur.

Since the new facebook layout took hold, the sky has fallen, terrorists have invaded, stock markets have crashed, and I have started to see statuses like these:

Dear all, Please do me a favor and move your mouse over my name here, wait for the box to load and then move your mouse over the “Subscribe” link. Then uncheck the yada yada yada, Mark Zuckerberg’s molesting my precious data-bits, kthxbye

 

Tell me this. When did we all become such info-snowflakes?

What is it about our lives that is so special, so precious, so secret on facebook that if it was ever “made public” we would be locked up in the bowels of the Ministry of Love for re-education?

And why are you going on Facebook to be private anyway? Most facebook users have at least 150 friends. If goes out on your status, chances is are it’s not a secret anymore.

Most of this controversy is over the news ticker on the right hand side of the facebook screen. It gives a real time view of what comments and likes your friends are making on the site. People are worried about this because their movements on the site can be tracked.

First, I have not done this thing. For anybody. If I do it for one, then I have to do it another 325 times. My time is more valuable than that.

Second, that ticker is made of data that has always been collected on Facebook. Ever since you first logged on. Why are we getting excited because the data is now organized in a usable fashion? That’s computers do!

Do want to know who’s following your movements on that ticker? Me. Yes, me. And it’s a good thing to, because if I want to know what you’re doing at any given time, that means you have a social life. Honestly, if you have something to tell that you don’t want posted on the New York Times, ring me up and I’ll take you out for coffee. We can share your gossip, have a laugh, and who knows, I might even be able to make you some money. I’ve been making all my income for the past two years this way and I can’t tell you how many cogs in our economic machine have ground to a halt because people in BC just don’t know how to pick up the dang telephone.

Passion. It’s become a cliché now. Find your passion and you will succeed. Follow your passion to greatness. Your Passion is all you need! Passion, passion, passion! Is passion really all we need to get through life? I think courage is much more important. This is why I want to tell the story about a man of great passion. He was literally a beast, bursting with passion. Of course, I’m talking about the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz.

When the Cowardly Lion was just a cub in the Land of Oz, he had already found his passion. He walked up to his parents and said to them, “Mother, Father, I want to be the King of the Forest. I want to be big and strong. I want to make a difference out there.”

“Son,” said his parents, beaming with pride. “You could not have picked a better path for your life. You belong to a long line of Kings of the Forest. It’s an honourable profession. The salary’s good, the medical benefits are top notch, and you’re assured a pension! They even have a union, you know? You will be set for life, my boy!”

So, the Cowardly Lion headed off to jungle university to get his degree. He took a wide range of interesting courses “The Lame and the Sick: Culling for the future”, and “Poachers: How to send messages and keep the forest clean with their entrails”. The Cowardly Lion worked long and hard at his courses. He couldn’t even be bothered with the local political goings on. Something about the Munchkins having a real Witch of a Mayor. The Lion didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem. Someone needed to keep those little buggers in line.

Soon it was graduation day, and the Lion, degree in snout, marched proudly down to the forest to collect his union card for King of the Forest, local no. 342. He was ready to be top predator, a mean, lean, killing machine. He entered a grove of trees filled with a group of sombre older beasts who took the young graduate aside.

“Mr. Lion, sit down a sec. I have some news.” A Grizzlier than usual Bear said. “You see, we’re having a little trouble with the management back at the Emerald City. They say they can’t make their pension payments, but we got some guys here who put 30 years into this forest. If we don’t fight them on this, there’s no hope for you young guys coming up. Unfortunately, we’ve had to make a few…concessions. I don’t think we’ll have a position for you this year as King of the Forest. Perhaps later, after a few more years of experience, you’ll get your chance.”

The Cowardly Lion was heartbroken. He was so poor, he could even afford an apartment in the forest. He had grown weak and scrawny from a diet of all instant ramen. His student loans made him terrified of the phone. Because of the Union by-laws, he wasn’t allowed to chase so much as a field mouse. Experience? Where was he going to get that? He went out for a walk by the Yellow-brick road to gather his thoughts, when all of a sudden, he saw a strange sight.

There was a little girl walking down the road. On one side of her, there was a man made of metal, and on the other there was one made of straw. And right by the little girl’s feet there was a small black animal that he had never seen before. It wasn’t a deer, a zebra, or like any kind of animal covered by the Union by-laws.

He thought, “Well what do you know? A loop-hole! Here’s my chance to do my job as King of the Forest! I’ll muss up that little ball of fur good, and they’ll accept me for sure!”

Giving his best roar, the Lion jumped out on to the road. The straw man was no match for him, and the Tin one made a terrible noise as he quaked in his boots. He was about to pounce on the little animal, but the little girl stood in the Lion’s path and gave him a big fat slap!

The Lion just realized what he had tried to do. He had just picked on an animal weaker than himself. This isn’t what he trained for. This isn’t what a King of the Forest was supposed to do. This was the doing of big fat coward. It was all too much. The Lion began to cry.

The little girl (whose name was Dorothy) took pity on the Lion and said. “Don’t cry Mr. Lion. You just need to find some courage. We’re all looking for something, you see. The scarecrow’s trying to find some brains, and the Tin man is looking for a heart. We’re going to see the Wizard in the Emerald City to see if he could help. You should come with us!”

The Lion had lived in Oz for years and had never actually been to the Emerald City. He took Dorothy up on her offer. On the way there, he found ways to help his new friends. When he roared, the other beasts wouldn’t bother their little troupe. Whenever there were chasms in the Yellow Brick Road, he could carry his friends on his back and jump across the other side. When they got to the Emerald City, the Wizard told them that to prove themselves worthy, they had to bring back the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West. The Lion always wanted to be the King of the Forest, but he had no idea he would get so involved in politics!

The Lion found himself crossing a haunted forest, sneaking into a heavily guarded castle, and even fighting an army of flying monkeys! At the end of it all, the Wicked Witch was dead, Dorothy made it back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion were made Kings in Oz.

So you see, Passion isn’t everything. Passion can give us direction, and it can give us Joy, but what if we can’t follow our Passion? What if we have obstacles in our way? That’s when we need courage. Courage stays with us through those obstacles. Courage makes us soldier on when things get tough. We’ve still got a lot of Wicked Witches out there. There’s Climate Change, Terrorism, and a Global Debt Crisis, just to name a few. We’ll need courage to tackle them all. But you may be thinking, The Lion didn’t have any Courage! He had to go to the Wizard to find it! That’s true, he did. But on his way, he found friends to walk that Yellow Brick road with him. He found himself solving real problems that he would never have had to deal with as a simple King of the Forest. All he had to do was take that first step. You see, there’s a reason I think Courage is more important than passion. Unlike Passion, you don’t need to find Courage. If you just decide to look for it, Courage will find you.

Last Cause made my heart soar just before it broke. If I could see a few movies a year like this, I would be one happy panda. A conspiracy movie about Gundam-style mechs and cloning set in a dystopian future? Sweetheart, you had me at Gundam-style. It’s crowdsource-funded movie project put together by some FX professionals in Los Angeles. Right now they just have a documentary video, a few photoshopped stills, and a quick synopsis. It doesn’t seem like the most original thing on the planet, but then again, what is? The production art looks amazing. You can tell these guys want to stretch the limits of their abilities on this project. As much as I’m impressed by this, and as much as I want this project to happen, it just reminds me how much of a hypocrite I’ve been.

I once considered myself to be a creative person. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer. I had even written my own Mecha series pilot in grade 12. I still managed to do it every now and again. There’s a webcomic out there with my inkstain on it. I wrote a monologue in University that was performed twice. I’ve tried scratch my writer’s itch through this blog, but I realize I wrote my last piece of complete fiction (not counting the financial projections for my business plan) 5 years ago during a writer’s workshop with Harlan Ellison.

There are few reasons why I stopped writing. First there are the insane statistics of the publishing industry. Something like 3 percent of manuscripts make it to print. Then there’s the respect for writing. When every mouth-breather on fanfiction.net gets to call themselves a writer, it’s a little discouraging. I thought I should develop some other trade so I would have something to fall back on. I was spending most of my time trying to get “real” a job in computers, and even then it’s been a struggle.

Now, here are these guys, with almost no money, getting funding to make their dream project. I’ve been shamed. I’ve been waiting for a sure thing too long. I’ve forgotten what age I’m living in. I don’t need to beg some publisher, director, or artist for permission to create anything. The next post on this blog is not going to be some blow-hardy crap about marketing. It’s going to be a story. Maybe the start of a novel, I’m not sure yet. If it’s 10,000 hours until world-class success, it’s time to start on hour one.

Last Saturday Christy, my sister, got married to her long-time boyfriend Steve. The ceremony and reception was held at the Sweet Dreams Luxury Inn in Abbotsford. The weather, the ceremony, and location were gorgeous! I was in charge of the A/V component of the day, so I invited a surprise guest for the happy couple.

I also put together a little retrospective slide show:

Now all three kids in my family are married! Thank you, Christy and Steve, for putting on a first-rate party and congratulations on your new life together!