Is your path to success more like Mine That Bird or Rachel Alexandra? Do you start out slow, figure out the game, and then sprint past the competition to win the race or do you come out of the gates strong, define the race, and than hold off contenders looking back as you cross the finish line? Both paths can lead to the winner’s circle but the journey is completely different. No one was paying attention to Mine That Bird before the Kentucky Derby. He was a 50 to 1 shot and the race favorites were not focusing on how to compete against him. He lagged behind at the start, waited for an opening on the rail and took off. By the time the field recognized the competitive threat it was too late and Mine That Bird won the Kentucky Derby running away. Are you like Mine That Bird? Do you scope out the race and the competition before making your move. Coming from behind is always exciting. We love a good underdog story. By letting the race unfold before making your move you can size up the competition and look for a clear opening. But, what if the early front-runner has an insurmountable lead or finds a new gear making it impossible to catch up? What if your strategy doesn’t work and there is no clear path through the competition to take on the leader? By contrast, Rachel Alexandra was the clear favorite in the Preakness. She was expected to win and broke out of the gate fast, living up to the early hype and expectations. She defined the race throughout, daring the competition to come after her. She led from start to finish and held off any attempt including a strong bid from Mine That Bird to come from behind. Everyone knew the talented filly was the horse to beat. Are you more like Rachel Alexandra in your path to success? Do you define the rules of the race and create the market leaving competitors to come from behind? By the time competitors figure out your approach you are already off to the races creating distance that they are forced to make up. The biggest challenge with coming out of the gate fast is that by putting yourself out in front you immediately become the target. Unlike the underdog coming from behind everyone wants a piece of your action and focuses all of their energy on finding a way to beat you. If you take the front-runner approach it is important not to put blinders on. Are you prepared to go the distance and sustain the lead through out the race? Can you respond to competitive threats during the race? Can you kick in to an entire new gear to change the game during the race to keep competitors from catching up and overtaking you? Both paths to success can work. I am biased toward Rachel Alexandra’s approach. I like to define any race I compete in and prefer to lead, redefine, and lead again. It might not be as compelling as the underdog story, coming from behind to win, but I like the odds and the view from the front of the race better. It will be interesting to see if Rachel Alexandra can win in the longer distance Belmont Stakes. The competition will be coming after her and have more track to catch her if she comes out with the early lead. Are you more like Mine That Bird or Rachel Alexandra in your path to the winner’s circle? As a young boy my list of grown-ups I idolized included a long list of what you’d expect with any typical boy—athletes, political figures, a few movie stars (the character more than the actor, of course). But when I was about 12 years old I was in a hotel room with a friend watching a movie that we were able to get through the hotel. It was Love and Death by Woody Allen. It played in the background while I played with my friend. But I kept trying to watch it. The humor was quirky and absurd. And when there was the scene of the view of a battlefield from the perspective of the generals (which was a pack of stampeding sheep instead of men fighting for their lives on the battlefield), I started laughing uncontrollably. I guess I thought it was brilliant and silly at the same time but it hit my funny bone from an angle and with a velocity I had never experienced before –and I stopped my playing with my friend altogether to watch this unusual and hilarious movie. And watched again a second and a third time before I stopped ordering it for fear my parents would get angry when they saw the bill. A few years later I asked my mom to drive me to see the movie Manhattan. I heard Woody Allen had written it and starred in it. The same guy who wrote and starred in that hilarious movie I saw at the hotel when I was 12. In high school, there were no VCR’s yet, but Louisville did have The Vogue and The Uptown art theaters which often played older and less commercially popular films, and I got to see many of the older Allen movies—Bananas, Take the Money and Run, and of course, Annie Hall, which I adored. I wouldn’t let other kids in high school know about my Woody Allen fetish but I felt like he “got me.” Or at least, “I got him.” I was a smallish and philosophical kid that didn’t fit into any of the traditional groups or cliques in high school. Woody Allen’s humor provided a refuge for me. A sanctuary where I didn’t feel like as much of an oddity—and the pressure to be like everyone else would temporarily evaporate as long as the movie played, and I could even feel a surge of pride for being a humorous oddball who saw the world through a neurotic lens. Woody Allen helped me feel I wasn’t alone…and wasn’t defective or inferior. As a college student living in Los Angeles for a year and a half and majoring in philosophy at USC — and still a smallish and slightly neurotic guy— I purchased a VCR and depended even more on Woody Allen’s worldview. I watched all of his movies at least several times. Some probably 10 or 12 times. They continued to provide me comfort in a world that wasn’t receptive to self-questioning, nervous, guys like me. I also read his books: Without Feathers and Side Effects and Getting Even. And actually read each all the way through. Something I rarely did with any book even though I was a college student at the time. And I didn’t even get college credit for reading Allen’s books! And I bought a rare cassette of his early stand-up routines. Which I also found uproariously funny as well as finding a kinship with the humor. It wasn’t just comic relief any more but absorbing chunks of Woody Allen’s philosophy at life by this juncture of my fanhood. I saw Woody Allen once at about this time in my life. My stepmother, Phyllis, was working for CBS news and living in New York. I visited her one weekend and we went to Elaine’s restaurant. Phyllis kept trying to introduce me at our noisy table to Pat O’Brien who was a sports colleague at CBS. But I couldn’t take my eyes of the two gentlemen seated quietly in the corner talking thoughtfully between themselves, Woody Allen and Dick Cavett. Again, I was too self-conscious to mention—especially to a sports loving crowd at our table—I wanted nothing more than to meet Woody Allen. Inside I felt like one of those screaming teenage girls you see as the Beatles get off the plane for their first trip to the US. But outside I tried to pretend I was listening to a funny sports story I couldn’t care less about and laugh along with everyone else. That same weekend in NY after everyone in my family was asleep I played a Woody Allen movie I had rented. My father woke up and got some ice cream and sat down with me and asked what I was watching. I told him and hoped he’d watch a few minutes and find the scene we were watching as hilarious as I did. He chuckled awkwardly as he had before when I tried a Woody Allen joke on him. I asked him why he didn’t like him more. He said, “Woody Allen reminds me of eating cauliflower. It just didn’t look very good and I never bothered trying it.” In his defense, my father was never a very self-conscious person who would appreciate Allen’s humor and we just had very different taste in film. The night before I took my father to see the movie “The Gods Must be Crazy.” But we left after about 25 minutes when my father said it was too slow and he couldn’t figure out what it was about. By the time I reached my 20s, I started coming into my own as a person and began to feel it was safer to acknowledge my Woody Allen infatuation. I read a piece—maybe in the New Yorker—about a young woman who secretly wanted to be Woody Allen, only a female version, who snarkily and with wry and sophisticated humor poked fun at others around her for being shallow. It was safe to come out of the Woody Allen closet. Until recently. When Allen was awarded the Cecile B Demille award for lifetime achievement at the Golden Globe awards last month. Of course, as always, he didn’t attend to receive his award. I felt like I had been vindicated in my adoration of Woody Allen’s work. But moments later I read about a series of Tweets from Mia Farrow and Ronan Farrow bringing up old accusations about child molestation charges about Woody molesting Farrow and his adopted daughter, Dylan, when she was 7 years old. Initially, I am disappointed to report, I thought, “Oh, please. Enough already. Let the man receive this well-deserved award for his art without going there…..” The next few days and weeks became a full-blown rehash of a shocking episode in Allen’s career that had stayed publicly buried for nearly 20 years where he and Farrow broke up after Woody fell in love with their then adopted daughter Soon-Yi Previn and later married her. It was an ugly public battle and shook my worship of Allen to its core at the time. But I somehow mustered the denial and distinction between one’s art and personal life give him the benefit of the doubt to eventually continue my admiration for Woody Allen, although it would never quite be the same as before. But this time –over the past few days—sifting through the sordid accusations and factual details again as an older and wiser man, I can’t deny that something outrageous and wholly inappropriate happened between Woody Allen and his young adopted daughter over 20 years ago. I acknowledge that fact and am saddened to learn that you are never too old to become disillusioned with those you place on a pedestal. Or even find part of their life—which is inextricably part of who they are—despicable. And that is true even if you are a 50 year old fan and moved on from hero worship many years ago. But it still stings…and still hurts, too. So, no, I won’t defend Woody Allen art or try to distinguish it from his personal life. But please don’t expect me –just yet anyway– to line up behind his ex-wife and adopted daughter and pile on Allen either. I would like to say that I won’t be doing that because it is a personal matter and should be handled in private. But the real reason is there is still a part of denial in me that my childhood hero was capable of doing such inexplicable things. And since I am only a fan—and not a direct player in this drama—in my defense and in defense of all similarly situated Woody Allen fans, I ask that you understand it is not the grieving of the public death of a man’s reputation that makes us unable to be objective right now. It is the grieving of the private death of part of ourselves. Mind tricks to help me regain my perspective.
I always worry on Sunday nights about the work week ahead. When I get to that point, I play a little mind game with myself. I like to ask myself What if several abductors burst into my home right at this very moment and stormed into my office and kidnapped me and took me to some dark basement in the middle of nowhere where I couldn’t have access to wifi, what would happen in the larger scheme of things? In other words, if I couldn’t text any business associates, return emails to any clients or do any scheduled conference calls all week next week, what would happen? And then I remind myself that probably the only noteworthy thing that would happen is that by this Friday my captors would be so sick of my constant jokes and rambling stories and irritating personal questions and odd ideas about life and requests for coffee with real half & half and Splenda at all hours and my endless proposed “deals” to bargain my way out of my captive state, that my captors would agree that it wasn’t worth kidnapping me and they would decide to return me to my home unharmed. And I’d only miss out on one week of work. And just running through that mental scenario helps relax me and get my perspective back by reminding me that –worst case scenario–I’ll still get everything done and be no more than a week late delivering it. You want the latest when it comes to skis and other equipment, but do you look the part when it comes to your ski clothes? Even if you’re not arriving via helicopter (à la Fiat Group founder Gianni Agnelli), there are plenty of ways to stay stylish on the slopes. If you look like the Michelin Man when you ski, it’s likely you haven’t rethought your attire since the late 90′s. Fortunately, along with advancements in skis, poles and other gear, there’s a lot new in the style department with plenty of excellent options that serve both form and function. Ski-wear designers have been heavily influenced by the more fitted cuts on the runways. And new fabric technologies allow for close fits that still provide warmth and flexibility. Bottom line: you can project a flattering physique on the slopes while staying warm and maintaining mobility. When dressing for the slopes, you should wear a baselayer, midlayer, insulating layer, and coat or shell. Below are my suggestions within each category, plus accessories. Baselayer Midlayer Insulating Layer Pants Parka Gloves or Mittens Socks Scarf Hat Face Mask Goggles A note on combining: don’t go nuts mixing too many colors. If you wear a pop of color like bright red or orange, have it be on either top or bottom, with the remaining colors in the look neutral and coordinating with one another. PSA: make sure to wear sunblock when skiing. The sun reflects off the snow onto your face, so you need to take extra precaution. I like Armada Sport 70 for all outdoor activities. Are you ready to hit the slopes in style? I’d love to hear what you’ll be wearing – let me know in the comments below. And if you’re more about hot chocolate than black diamonds, stay tuned for an upcoming post on one of my favorite activities to style: après-ski. -Content provided by Rath & Co. Men’s Style Consulting. Read more: http://rathandco.com/2014/01/your-guide-to-stylish-ski-attire/#ixzz2rY6Eg8JN Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Think Wildstein a distraction now. If he had the goods he’d be giving em up below radar. The ones feeling real heat likely Baroni/Samson. Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Immunity grant Wildstein seeking pie in sky. 5K.1.1 letter in which feds request lenient sentence aftr substantial cooperation more frequent Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 The impt thing about Wildstein letter isn’t anything in it. It’s degree to which it may motivate others to flip while they still have value. Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Once the feds have the dude you were gonna rat out, you’re useless – and your cooperation agreement evaporates. Thus the potential rush here Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Federal targets are like poker players: the weak hands act strong, while the strong hands stay quiet. So Wildstein may be in real trouble here Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Interesting to see Wildstein beg for attn. Feds have likely moved on to others with more/better cards to play on non-Ft Lee issues. Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Big Christie problem now: tenuousness of power position renders notion that he’ll “take care” of allies who eat it increasingly implausible. Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Smart- Legal survival trumps politics MT @lis_Smith “Christie has not taken q’s at a news conference for 21 days.” http://mobile.nytimes.com/2014/01/31/nyregion/for-christie-a-governor-under-fire-super-bowl-brings-glee.html?from=nyregion … … Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 2 Bridgegate fed crimes a stretch. No breach of honest services statute post-Conrad Black. W/ WH hopes fading,obstruction for pol reasons nuts Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 3 Silly how pundits write, “just as things were calming down for Christie…” Things were heating up, not calming; most US Attys aren’t sieves Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 3 Pundit silliness #2: suggesting Wildstein’s letter indicates “heating up”. Media confuses letter aimed at them for actual event of import. Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 3 We knew from Day 1 Wildstein itching to sing; his letter impt only insofar as it might goad waverers to sing before their info made redundnt Jeff Smith @JeffSmithMO Feb 3 A snitch can give the Feds every morsel he’s got, but if they already have it or if it’s not on the guy they want, he’ll get zilch for it. You know when you are at a social gatherings and talking to someone you just met and you feel you’ve got nothing else to say and sense they feel the same way?
Wouldn’t it be great if one of you could just say, “Well. I don’t have anything else to say to you and am going to stop talking to you now and go talk to someone else.” And just leave. I think that would be pretty cool. And appreciate hearing the clear-cut termination of our conversation. 2014 is here and moving along steadily. Have you started on your resolutions? Have you already given up on your resolutions? Whichever boat you are in, I would like to share with you my mantra for 2014. With a brief description of what each eloquent line means to me. Warning! Motivation and inspiration may ensue. Enter at your own risk. I Choose To live by choice, not by chance, We all have choices in this world and by all accounts we are judged by those choices; good, bad or indifferent. Make choices that add value to your life. Be with people who make you better and rid yourself of those that bring you down. Don’t want for things to happen, make things happen. To be motivated, not manipulated, Ultimately you are motivated or you are not. There is no one foot in and one foot out. Either you do it or you don’t. And by such we cannot be conned or fooled into living our lives for someone else. We are unique in our decisions and should hold our ground when making them. Be you and don’t let others sway your judgment or motivation. To be useful, not used, We are meant to add value to other’s lives, not be used for our unique talents and genuine generosities.
Change can be scary. It is a place outside our comfort zone. However, it is important to make change when change is need. It is not important to make excuses for why you can’t doing something because you are scared to change.
Life is about wins and losses. You win some, you lose some. The only competition is the person in the mirror. Only make comparisons to the person you use to be versus the person you are. I choose self-esteem, not self-pity, Confidence and the self belief in one’s ability will drive you further in life than feeling sorry for yourself when life doesn’t go you way. Live to fight another day and be thankful to be able too.
Your gut will never lie to you. Your heart will, your brain will and your eyes will but never you gut. It is your inner voice that knows all. Always listen to it. It will always tell you to keep pushing and make headway. That anything is possible and all the doubters are wrong. I choose to do the things that you won’t, so I can continue to do the things you can’t. The choice to get up early, work late, workout when everyone is asleep, eat broccoli instead of French fries is all ours. We can chose to make the sacrifices necessary to be extraordinary, it is up to us. Do what others won’t so you can continue to do what others can’t. My grandfather Brown’s favorite poem was “If” by Rudyard Kipling. He memorized it and quoted from it often, especially when encouraging someone to seek wisdom and perspective in the midst of a difficult situation. When I turned 13 my father gave me a framed copy of the poem for my birthday present. Like most boys on their 13th birthday, a framed copy of the poem “If” wasn’t what I was hoping for…. But I’m glad now I got it –and I still have it. I hung it in my bedroom through high school and college and as an adult hung the poem in my office.
Sure, I envy rich people – most of us do, if we’re honest. But usually I don’t begrudge them their wealth – I can admire their accomplishments, aspire to be like them, or just enjoy the fact that if it weren’t for rich people giving parties & hiring bands, most musicians I know would be even more under-employed. (What’s the difference between a musician and a savings bond? The savings bond eventually matures and makes money. Cue rim-shot.) Of course, there have always been those hideous examples of gross over-consumption or bad behavior that can give wealth a bad rap. (You know, the CEOs with gold-plated toilet seats in their private bathrooms, the jewel-encrusted socialite who owes her maid back pay, the wealth congresspeople who vote to pay themselves hundreds of thousands in farm subsidies.) Other rich people can be counted on to put them in their place with a throaty “How vulgar,” like Cyd Charisse’s character’s reaction to seeing a ‘talking picture’ at a party in Singing In The Rain. (I once played at a very expensive country club, where one of the drunken members was trying to make suggestive remarks to me – at least as far as one could understand his slurring. I was trying to put him off politely, not wanting to be rude to a client, but a lovely silver-haired dowager heard him and told him in no uncertain terms to do something anatomically impossible to himself. That’s the kind of rich person I want to be! . . . but I digress) These days, of course, income inequality is all the rage – probably because income inequality is at levels not seen since the Gilded Age. Naturally, one might expect the very richest people to feel a bit under siege, but they don’t help themselves when they make public comments about unemployment insurance just encouraging people to be lazy, or feeling just like Jews in Nazi Germany. (Note of advice to Tom Perkins – unless you’re Jewish and have relatives who are Holocaust survivors, that is not a very good idea. Nor is it smart to defend your remarks while bragging about a $380,000 watch that is ‘worth a 6-pack of Rolexes.) But I’m not jealous of Tom Perkins – in fact, I’m grateful to him for inspiring my next song (which is my way of saying to him what that kind dowager said to the boor who was bothering me . . . ) |
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