It's going to be one of those weeks when all my friends have something else to do, and I will be stuck there with just the teachers and the goofy kids. There won't be anyone there to make faces at or to pass notes to during the meetings. At lunch, I won't have anyone to sit with, and will have to pretend that I don't notice that I'm eating my sandwich all by my lonesome. Even though I have people who enjoy eating lunch with me, I know that for the whole of this week, lunchtime will feel like I don't have any friends at all.
Yup. It's going to be a long, hard week. But by next Monday, my friends will be back from vacation, and things will get back to mostly normal.
Except that my friend Cyndi won't be coming back next Monday.
She's chucked it all and is hanging out her own shingle, opening her own shop, going out on her own. She'll be taking her tele-meetings in her pajamas and slippers and petting her dogs as she answers her email. No more traffic snarls, editorial meetings, spreadsheets, or contact pages for her. At least, until this next gig takes off and she makes another big success.
It takes a lot of fortitude to attempt what Cyndi is doing. But she's in, because she has a vision. She has a plan. And she's committed to it, even if it means sacrificing a few niceties. After all, she's used to making something great from ordinary, everyday things. That's what designers do. And in the meantime, she doesn't mind a few bologna sandwiches. What's a little processed meat in pursuit of your dreams?
I'm not worried about Cyndi at all, because I know what she's capable of--I've seen her do it a thousand times. She's going to be fine. She's going to be better than fine.
Cause love is all around; no need to fake it. She's going to make it after all.
photo, Afonso Lima