There are a lot of lessons you can learn from Firefly, and Mal Reynolds in particular, but here are a few that I consider particularly shiny:

1. Admit when you’ve made a mistake – even if the damage is done: “Well, you’re right about this being a bad idea.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/badidea_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: Bad Idea]
2. Do what’s right here and now – ignore what “they” have to say: “They tell you, never hit a man with a closed fist. But it is on occasion hilarious.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/closedfist_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: It is on occasion, hilarious]
3. Inspire confidence in others – even if you think the situation is hopeless: “We’re not going to die. We can’t die, Bendiss, and you know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/toopretty_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: Too Pretty To Die]
4. Always fight fair: “If I ever kill you, you’ll be awake, you’ll be facing me, and you’ll be armed.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/killme_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: You'll Be Awake, You'll Be Facing Me, and You'll Be Armed]
5. Be happy with the small things: Mal – “We’re still flying.” Simon – “That’s not much.” Mal – “It’s enough.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/itsenough_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: It's Enough]
6. Look forward to whatever challenges you may face – even if they’re scary ones: Mal – “How come you didn’t turn on me, Jayne?” Jayne – “Money wasn’t good enough.” Mal – “What happens when it is?” Jayne “… Well… That’ll be an interesting day.” Mal – “I imagine it will.”
   [audio:http://www.iamnickarmstrong.com/audiofiles/firefly/interestingday_ff.mp3|titles=Firefly: Interesting Day]

Audio files thanks to: http://wavs.unclebubby.com/firefly

Got any favorites of your own? Add ‘em by commenting below!

My calling is to kick ass

The hardest part of becoming an entrepreneur hasn’t been the looming threat of financial failure, the haunting scent of the cardboard Dell box that might soon be my home, or even sacrificing the “niceties” like healthcare insurance, Grade-A food, and free time.

Instead, the hardest part so far has been learning to be accountable.  As a cubicle employee, I was only accountable to my boss.  As an entrepreneur, I’m accountable to myself, my clients, and everyone else who depends on me in some function to do a good job.

For as long as I can remember, I have kicked ass.  I’m not… you know, tooting my own horn or anything – but, I got a 4.16 GPA in high school, participated in the Drama Club, made websites that took first and second place in state web design competitions, and organized a group of over 500 people to participate in a Star Trek club.  In college, I ran my own talk show – interviewed Doug Hutchinson – the Fort Collins Mayor, Puke and Snot from the Colorado Renaissance Festival, and entertained thousands as a prime-time DJ.

Then I graduated, landed a kick-ass job at HP making more money than any graduate out of college has a right to and then realized that the working world didn’t want a rock star – they wanted someone who would shut up and follow orders.  They wanted a cog.  And for two years, I played along.  Hell, I was playing along even now – today.

What a horrible, horrible mistake.  There were fits and starts of brilliance – Giant Gnome, Psychotic Resumes… but holy hell, what did I let myself become?

My mistake has turned me into the bumbling idiot – 15 minutes late to everything, overwhelmed, barely succeeding, missing deadlines, not good at communicating.  This isn’t me.  I get so frustrated with myself because I know I can do better – I just let those things slip away as a side-effect of doing something that wasn’t my calling.  When I finally got the programming job every programmer dreams of, I blew it because I was stuck in “mediocre mode”. 

F*CK.

No more. This is my shot to do something good in the world.  I’m not going to blow it like Taco Bell blows it when you order a chicken taco.

This is it – this is what I’m afraid of – why I can joke about “meaningless” consequences like homelessness and the lack of health insurance. The real consequence of failure isn’t that tangible bullshit. The real cost of failure is my self-respect, the respect of my friends, my mentors.

It took two smart people to wake me the hell up this morning.  Today is a sort of “wake up” call for me that I need to get my ass back in gear.  I’ve been slouching since HP – it’s not my lot in life to be ordinary.

Thanks goes to Ron of CodeGeek.Net and Laurie of Blue Skies Marketing – I’m very fortunate to have them as mentors – thankful in the way that words can’t express.  Without them, I likely would be living out of that Dell box already.  What I’ve learned from them could fill an entire blog, but I’ll share with you the best advice they gave me this morning:

• Bring order to the chaos that your client is feeling – even if you’re freaking the hell out, too;
• Tell the client “No” when you have to – it’s better than breaking a deadline;
• Help the client arrive at realistic expectations – doing anything else sets both parties up for failure;
• Don’t give a reason for delays – they sound too close to excuses;
• Always communicate – communicate if there’s a problem, before there’s a problem, as much as you can, always.

I’m fired up – the fuse is lit.  It’s time for me to get back to kicking ass.

Sometimes when you’re fighting – whether it’s to survive another month, pay rent, afford food or maybe you have it worse off than that, it’s easy to forget that you’re human.  Causality – the decisions you make, how you handle problems, the rules you fight by, whether you allow your decisions to negatively affect other people, these things speak to your life.  Remembering that you’re human gives you dignity, it lets you make respectable decisions.

Humanity is in short supply these days.  Need proof?  The WSJ has all you need – companies are seeking the already-employed to fill positions when only 20% of 2009′s graduating class have jobs after applying for them.  Not very human of them… sort of… monster-ish.

With these ideas in mind, I examined some of my own decisions:

• When I first was laid off, I could choose to panic about being laid off in a recession or to get to work looking for a job.
  • I chose to look for work.
• When I started my job search, I had to fight the urge to apply for programming jobs I knew I could land but would be horrible for my soul.
  • I chose a new career.
• When I heard back from only 5% of the jobs I’d applied for, I had to fight the urge to get bitter.
  • I chose to seek better options.
• When I had to pay my medical bills, I had to fight the insurance company to pay the full amount, the doctors to reduce the fees, and to arrange a payment plan with the hospital.
  • I chose to borrow what I needed until I could do better.
• When I filed for unemployment, I had to fight the other unemployed 7.9%  of the state of Colorado (approximately 400,000 people) to get a call in.
  • I chose to be persistent.
• When I found out I was denied for unemployment, I had to choose between fighting my friends and former colleagues or going broke.
  • I chose to go broke.
• When I decided to pull my IRA, I had to fight the urge to pay off my credit cards so that I could pay rent instead.
  • I chose to budget better and eat less.
• When I ran out of money to pay rent, I had to fight with the leasing property to arrange a payment plan.
  • I chose to keep negotiating until I had a better option.
• When I tried to pay rent according to my payment plan, I had to fight with the bank to get a simple Money Order.
  • I chose to do whatever it took to make it happen.
• When I started up my own business to make a living, I fought my parents who thought I was wasting my time.
  • I chose to ignore them.

When you have to fight, don’t forget that you are human.

Traveling a distance of up to 12 feet, sneezes have been clocked at 103.6 miles per hour.

You just can’t appreciate the power of a sneeze until you have an open appendectomy.

One week after my appendectomy, I sneezed. Nothing puts your life in context like the possibility of guts going from inside to outside at 103.6 miles per hour.

Well, that, or a vicodin-induced dream that you’re a Twitter page.  Hmm.

In any case, all this made me realize that simple, every-day things that you take for granted can become damn-near fatal (or at least excruciatingly painful) under slightly different circumstances.

I know that sounds all new-agey and probably isn’t new advice by any means, but how often are each of us put in a situation where, under normal circumstances we’d do just fine – but on this particular day, with this particular set of circumstances, we fall flat on our faces?

The day after I had my surgery, they brought in a torture device known as a Volumetric Exerciser.  Lying in a hospital bed, everyone tends to breathe pretty shallow – particularly in surgeries affecting the abdomen; shallow breathing means low oxygen saturaiton levels, which means reduced healing and immune response.  The point of the Volumetric Exerciser is for the patient to breathe in slowly and surely, trying to reach a “goal number” with the power and duration of their inhalation.  Mine was 3500, which was surprisingly difficult to hit.  I’ve tried now that I’m healthy and I easily top 4500.

The point of this story? Well, you don’t just use the Volumetric Exerciser once.  You use it over and over again, each day, a few times in an hour.

I think you can see where I’m going with this. When you hit a rough patch – say, for example, one of your internal organs desperately wants to part ways with you – and things that you are used to doing (breathing, sneezing, walking like a human) suddenly aren’t as easy or fun to do anymore… it’s up to you to overcome those obstacles.

The only way to do it is to set yourself a goal and practice – a little each day, a little each hour, whenever, however, and how ever often you can spare or make the time.  Aim for your goal or more each time you practice.  Little by little, you’ll learn how to breathe, sneeze, walk like a human, sell a new product, program in a new language, or learn to speak Klingon.

Maybe it’s not the most original advice ever, but 6″ wounds seem to make me whimsical.