I was listening to Simon Sinek's latest book yesterday. Yeah, that's right, I was listening to it. I read at least 3 books per month and listen to another one while I'm driving in my car.
In his latest book "Leaders Eat Last", he writes about dopamine. Dopamine is a chemical secreted in the body and it makes us feel good. Interestingly enough, he says that feeling is very addictive.
The ringing bells at a casino, the smell of alcohol, the feeling of comfort from a drag of a cigarette and the snort of a line of cocaine all gets dopamine transmitting to the brain. I'm not a bio-scientist but it all made sense to me. We don't get addicted to the product, we get addicted to the feeling.
Then he hit me with a freight train.
Sinek says that the constant usage of social media, checking facebook statuses, tweeting, blogging and checking email secret dopamine. We are addicted. So in fact the addiction of cocaine, cigarettes, alcohol, gambling, sex and cell phones all have the same thing in common- Dopamine.
Dopamine makes us feel good, but its transmission makes us want more of it. We've heard that humans are creatures of habit. I've used the habit argument in trying to change customer behaviour, my children's actions and my own personal beliefs.
After listening to Sinek's point of view, we're not habit creatures. We're creatures of addiction. Dopamine. No other animal transmits dopamine.
Anyone with an addiction knows how hard it is to quit. It seems like we tear a piece of ourselves out when we stop doing the activity. And it takes really hard, concerted effort to quit. Often we need the help of others to shake it.
Anybody playing Candy Crush??? I haven't seen a more non productive activity, but holy cow, it's hard to quit. I had to delete it from my phone and then watched my wife sink into its grasp. I recently read that King Software makes over $300,000 per day globally from its addicts.
Whether we're addicted to self destructing behaviours like smoking, drinking, gambling or if we're addicted to non productive behaviours like social media, gaming, TV, and sex, we're all junkies.
Ever since I started this blog, I continuously check comments, feedback and number of readers. I can tell you first hand how addictive the whole process has become and how rewarding the feedback has been.
It could be worse, I could be shooting my bloodstream with heroin. It's less self destructing this way, but it is interesting that dopamine has made me a social media junkie...
Friday, February 21, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Word!
Have you ever made up a word? In university, I had two friends who had a better command of the English language than I. While I wasted my days playing video games, they seemed to be content making up words that could easily be deciphered into real meaning.
Negaggerate: To exaggerate negatively
One I'll never forget. There were countless others. One friend, a son of an English teacher, and the other an English major, who became a teacher himself. Two talented guys...
I'm a product of bilingualism. In a province that promotes the equal usage of both languages, I can boast that I am considered bilingual. I spent 7 years in a school system that split my focus between the two languages in order to become more employable. I am a generalist. Jack of two languages...Master of none.
In my quest, to become a better marketer, I was told the masterful use of language and the ability to make up words could paint a picture in rhythmic, drum beating sequence that could draw in the droners of druthers.
That's right, I just made up a word. I'm practicing. Sorry.
The whole idea of making up words isn't a new concept. It is actually a field of study called "Seussing". And yes, it's giving credit to the greatest word-maker of them all, Dr. Seuss.
In my limited education of the English language, we were never encouraged to make up words. I was told if it ain't in the dictionary, it ain't a word. That logic seems ridiculous to me now, considering that many words get created and eventually get accepted as everyday lexicon.
A really smart guy told me that words are the most powerful force we can master. I have a lot to learn.
Thanks French Immersion and Sega Genesis...
Negaggerate: To exaggerate negatively
One I'll never forget. There were countless others. One friend, a son of an English teacher, and the other an English major, who became a teacher himself. Two talented guys...
I'm a product of bilingualism. In a province that promotes the equal usage of both languages, I can boast that I am considered bilingual. I spent 7 years in a school system that split my focus between the two languages in order to become more employable. I am a generalist. Jack of two languages...Master of none.
In my quest, to become a better marketer, I was told the masterful use of language and the ability to make up words could paint a picture in rhythmic, drum beating sequence that could draw in the droners of druthers.
That's right, I just made up a word. I'm practicing. Sorry.
The whole idea of making up words isn't a new concept. It is actually a field of study called "Seussing". And yes, it's giving credit to the greatest word-maker of them all, Dr. Seuss.
In my limited education of the English language, we were never encouraged to make up words. I was told if it ain't in the dictionary, it ain't a word. That logic seems ridiculous to me now, considering that many words get created and eventually get accepted as everyday lexicon.
A really smart guy told me that words are the most powerful force we can master. I have a lot to learn.
Thanks French Immersion and Sega Genesis...
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Brand overload
I was at a chain restaurant last weekend and my children started to complain about the amount of self promotion on the walls. Although I've spent the majority of my life studying and working in advertising, I never really looked at the shameless use of branding inside the four walls of a business. At this one establishment, we counted no less than 30 uses of the logo and the name inside the business. We knew where we were. We didn't need to be reminded.
I felt like Shrek when he went to find Lord Farquaad, referring to the big gigantic castle, "Do you think he's compensating for something"?
When a business has this amount of shameless logos and advertising within their four walls, I wonder if their marketing department consists of a bunch of yes-man muppets or if they are trying to cover up the fact that they aren't that good.
For some reason, everyone seems to think that the more a logo is seen, the more exposure a brand gets and the bigger the opportunity for a sale. I would agree that if you're a coffee house, your take out cups should be logo-ed. There's nothing wrong with promoting your company in the hands of your customers, especially once they leave your establishment.
When I'm inside your coffee house, you don't need to show me your logo thirty times. I know where I am. I drove there. Keep it clean and keep it about the experience. I wanna enjoy my time there. I don't want to feel like there are commercials in the middle of my life. I've just got rid of them on TV...
If you want people to buy your products more often. Here's the simplest advice you'll ever get. Don't suck! Marketing, shameless or tasteful just speeds up the inevitable.
Signs, Signs, Everywhere, there's signs.
Blocking out the scenery. Breaking my mind.
Do this.
Don't do that.
Can't you read the signs?
- 5 Man Electrical Band
I felt like Shrek when he went to find Lord Farquaad, referring to the big gigantic castle, "Do you think he's compensating for something"?
When a business has this amount of shameless logos and advertising within their four walls, I wonder if their marketing department consists of a bunch of yes-man muppets or if they are trying to cover up the fact that they aren't that good.
For some reason, everyone seems to think that the more a logo is seen, the more exposure a brand gets and the bigger the opportunity for a sale. I would agree that if you're a coffee house, your take out cups should be logo-ed. There's nothing wrong with promoting your company in the hands of your customers, especially once they leave your establishment.
When I'm inside your coffee house, you don't need to show me your logo thirty times. I know where I am. I drove there. Keep it clean and keep it about the experience. I wanna enjoy my time there. I don't want to feel like there are commercials in the middle of my life. I've just got rid of them on TV...
If you want people to buy your products more often. Here's the simplest advice you'll ever get. Don't suck! Marketing, shameless or tasteful just speeds up the inevitable.
Signs, Signs, Everywhere, there's signs.
Blocking out the scenery. Breaking my mind.
Do this.
Don't do that.
Can't you read the signs?
- 5 Man Electrical Band
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
The meaning of life...
The five minutes it takes me to drive my kids to school each morning are sometimes the highlight of my day. No distraction, no music, no video games, no TV. Just a discussion about whatever comes up. This morning I was in a foolish mood. In haste, I told my kids that the life was a battle between good and evil.
My 8 year old argued, "No that's not true". She stipulated, "Life is about loving..." and then she paused. She added, "...and singing". My son, not one to be left out retorted that it was also about dancing. Finally before I could add anything else to the conversation, my daughter finished the answer by saying it was also about being healthy.
Lately, I've begun to observe my children from a different perspective. From the innocence of a child. Of the simple way of life, maybe I can learn more from them than I try to teach. Maybe the stuff we've been telling them is sinking in. Either way, I believe we are learning from each other.
I've come to realize that I over complicate situations sometimes. If I start looking at life and its problems from its basic principles, maybe my children have the problems all figured out.
Despite the ongoing battles of timeouts, Mario Cart, iPad, TV and various other electronics, my children have a clear perspective of what is important in life.
According to my children, the meaning of life has four critical areas:
Loving,
Singing,
Dancing,
And being healthy.
I think they're right. So I question if we are doing enough of the four basic areas of life.
My 8 year old argued, "No that's not true". She stipulated, "Life is about loving..." and then she paused. She added, "...and singing". My son, not one to be left out retorted that it was also about dancing. Finally before I could add anything else to the conversation, my daughter finished the answer by saying it was also about being healthy.
Lately, I've begun to observe my children from a different perspective. From the innocence of a child. Of the simple way of life, maybe I can learn more from them than I try to teach. Maybe the stuff we've been telling them is sinking in. Either way, I believe we are learning from each other.
I've come to realize that I over complicate situations sometimes. If I start looking at life and its problems from its basic principles, maybe my children have the problems all figured out.
Despite the ongoing battles of timeouts, Mario Cart, iPad, TV and various other electronics, my children have a clear perspective of what is important in life.
According to my children, the meaning of life has four critical areas:
Loving,
Singing,
Dancing,
And being healthy.
I think they're right. So I question if we are doing enough of the four basic areas of life.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Workers wanted, pay optional...
Would you work for free?
At a very early age, children are asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up"? The answers are usually very noble, distinguishable careers: fireman, policeman, doctor, nurse...
Many of us sift through one opportunity to another until a meaningful profession starts to feel right. Even then, current statistics state that the average person will change careers 7 times in their lifetime.
I asked my daughter the above question this morning and she said that she wants to be a mom. The innocence of a child helps us get right to the point. Putting life in front of career is the way she thinks.
How many of us would be better off doing the same?
Ask yourself the question, "Would you do your current job if your boss stopped paying you"? If the answer is no, then you only go to work everyday for the paycheck. You've accumulated debt, maybe a couple of toys, a nice house, a couple of cars. You have aspirations of retirement or saving for your children's education. Ultimately you might be trapped in a rat race which the only feelings of freedom come from Friday afternoon, a few drinks on Saturday night, and a couple weeks vacation a year.
Life sucks if you're one of these people. I know because I've been there. Money makes the world go round. I get it. Work sucks if we do it for a paycheck and not for an intrinsic reward. What if you could do what you really love to do and still get paid? Where would your happiness be? Would you be more centred? Would you be a better dad/mom? Ultimately would life be more fulfilling?
Biggest problem for most people is they can't figure out what they really love to do. Their vision of their perfect career is clouded because it's hard to get past the immediate need of money generation.
I worked all day today for free and I loved it. I listened, guided and helped four different entrepreneurs as they pursue their craft, overcome their obstacles and build their dreams.
I can't work like this forever but it is so much more rewarding than the alternative. I will pass on the following advice I received once from my mentor, "Love what you do, then figure out how to get paid for it".
Good night!
"If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life".
-Donald Trump
At a very early age, children are asked the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up"? The answers are usually very noble, distinguishable careers: fireman, policeman, doctor, nurse...
Many of us sift through one opportunity to another until a meaningful profession starts to feel right. Even then, current statistics state that the average person will change careers 7 times in their lifetime.
I asked my daughter the above question this morning and she said that she wants to be a mom. The innocence of a child helps us get right to the point. Putting life in front of career is the way she thinks.
How many of us would be better off doing the same?
Ask yourself the question, "Would you do your current job if your boss stopped paying you"? If the answer is no, then you only go to work everyday for the paycheck. You've accumulated debt, maybe a couple of toys, a nice house, a couple of cars. You have aspirations of retirement or saving for your children's education. Ultimately you might be trapped in a rat race which the only feelings of freedom come from Friday afternoon, a few drinks on Saturday night, and a couple weeks vacation a year.
Life sucks if you're one of these people. I know because I've been there. Money makes the world go round. I get it. Work sucks if we do it for a paycheck and not for an intrinsic reward. What if you could do what you really love to do and still get paid? Where would your happiness be? Would you be more centred? Would you be a better dad/mom? Ultimately would life be more fulfilling?
Biggest problem for most people is they can't figure out what they really love to do. Their vision of their perfect career is clouded because it's hard to get past the immediate need of money generation.
I worked all day today for free and I loved it. I listened, guided and helped four different entrepreneurs as they pursue their craft, overcome their obstacles and build their dreams.
I can't work like this forever but it is so much more rewarding than the alternative. I will pass on the following advice I received once from my mentor, "Love what you do, then figure out how to get paid for it".
Good night!
"If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life".
-Donald Trump
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Do you know how to dream?
There are studies where a group of children are asked in first grade how many of them are creative. The responses are always very close to an astounding 100%. The same kids were asked just 10 short years later and less than 25% considered themselves as creative.
The innocent creative belief of a child cannot be ignored. Children go through school. They learn, adapt, conform. Somewhere through the loss of innocence, creativity is lost.
I feel it is in that loss of creativity, where children also lose their ability to dream. Dreams are what keeps us going. Many use the silent tax of the lottery to hold up whatever dream they may have. Life kicks us in the nuts and we start to believe that we cannot reach for the stars. We are not worthy. That's for someone else...
I hear excuses all of the time why people don't go after their dreams. In a previous post, I explained that dreams cannot be accomplished without actions. And most people don't act out of fear. Fear is a critical player for many who do not achieve their dreams. I now think that another critical player for people is not being able to dream. They have just been beaten too many times. They have been told to be realistic. They have been told to play it safe.
Part of the reason I write this blog is to be an example for others. I am a dreamer. One of my dreams is to write a book. Now you know why the blogs. I write to practice. I write to help. I write to be inspired. I write not to play it safe.
Do you have a dream?
If you do, ask yourself how you will achieve it without winning a lottery or getting an inheritance.
If you don't, start asking yourself why.
Someone told me once that if I could accomplish my life's work in my lifetime, I wasn't dreaming big enough.
Recently, I heard the best one of all.
"When I die, will what I have done mattered".
We are a society of non-dreamers. We're propped up by the fake lottery dreams that we know are out of our reach. The lottery is an addiction to get a release of serotonin, which makes us happy for one evening a week.
I want you to start dreaming crazy dreams that you can do with your life. Let's start there. Share them with me in the comments of my blog. I want to hear them. It's gonna be uncomfortable. Don't be afraid. The people that judge you aren't important in your life anyways.
Ta ta for now!
The innocent creative belief of a child cannot be ignored. Children go through school. They learn, adapt, conform. Somewhere through the loss of innocence, creativity is lost.
I feel it is in that loss of creativity, where children also lose their ability to dream. Dreams are what keeps us going. Many use the silent tax of the lottery to hold up whatever dream they may have. Life kicks us in the nuts and we start to believe that we cannot reach for the stars. We are not worthy. That's for someone else...
I hear excuses all of the time why people don't go after their dreams. In a previous post, I explained that dreams cannot be accomplished without actions. And most people don't act out of fear. Fear is a critical player for many who do not achieve their dreams. I now think that another critical player for people is not being able to dream. They have just been beaten too many times. They have been told to be realistic. They have been told to play it safe.
Part of the reason I write this blog is to be an example for others. I am a dreamer. One of my dreams is to write a book. Now you know why the blogs. I write to practice. I write to help. I write to be inspired. I write not to play it safe.
Do you have a dream?
If you do, ask yourself how you will achieve it without winning a lottery or getting an inheritance.
If you don't, start asking yourself why.
Someone told me once that if I could accomplish my life's work in my lifetime, I wasn't dreaming big enough.
Recently, I heard the best one of all.
"When I die, will what I have done mattered".
We are a society of non-dreamers. We're propped up by the fake lottery dreams that we know are out of our reach. The lottery is an addiction to get a release of serotonin, which makes us happy for one evening a week.
I want you to start dreaming crazy dreams that you can do with your life. Let's start there. Share them with me in the comments of my blog. I want to hear them. It's gonna be uncomfortable. Don't be afraid. The people that judge you aren't important in your life anyways.
Ta ta for now!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
My first and only fight
I have always hated physical violence. Even in adolescence, when coming of age boys have an overabundance of testosterone, I wasn't one of those boys who like to throw a few.
We used to punch each other into concussions using hockey helmets and gloves. I always lost against the boys my own age. We were doing for sport... I remember getting my bell rung and feeling like my brain was floating in a bucket of water. Not my idea of a good time, but much less dangerous than what most of my friends were doing. Most of the boys I grew up with loved to fight. They looked for the thrill of knocking someone out. And in most cases, they did. Every once in a while, someone would lose a tooth or get a few stitches. It was more like an right of passage for them. When it came to physical violence, I talked a tough game but I never wanted to get into a fight of my own. I always tried to take the high road as my gramma told me to.
I never associated courage with getting into a meaningless fight. In my first year of high school, many of my friends weren't adjusting well to the new school and were getting knocked around by bigger, tougher guys from a neighboring town. One guy decided to threaten me one day. He told me that he was going to beat my brains out. I was stupid scared. This guy was a trained boxer. He was skinny, but he looked fast. He challenged me to a duo at high noon on the smokers hill. Not being a smoker, I was way out of my comfort zone. Not only did I not want to fight, I didn't want to do it in enemy territory. I ignored the challenge, hoping it would go away. I didn't show up and I never heard a single chicken reference, not even one pacock.
So I started using the strategy of walking away and it worked quite well for me until my senior year. This one kid who was 2 years younger than me but about my size started egging me on for a fight. I wasn't scared of him, but there was no reason to fight. I held nothing against him, and I had no idea what was up his ass.
On two occasions, I walked away from his physical provocation. I didn't want to fight. But he persisted daily with smirks, chicken calls, and rumours. He started to tick me off. After about two weeks, I met him in the stairway. We were all alone. My temper got the best of me and I lost it. I told him I was taking him down that day, when he least expected it. I told him, I was going to hurt him and it wasn't going to be pretty. Looking back, that was so uncharacteristic of me. My anger was speaking for me. I had lost control.
An hour later, we were on our way to the bus and he confronted me one last time. Everyone was laughing because it was so atypical of me. He pushed me twice and I backpeddled twice while informing him to stop it. On the third attempted push, his hands were down low, while my hands were clenched hard as rocks down by my hips. There's no way, he saw what came next - a clean right uppercut straight under the jaw. I surprised him, he fell back and slipped to the ground. Before he had a chance to get up, he saw a foot hit him three times in the head. Then it all stopped. I was out of control. Someone pulled me off. I got on the bus and it was all over.
The police called my parents. I had given him a concussion and he had decided not to press charges. The police told me to expect a retaliation. For the next 6 months, I kept an eye over my shoulder. Who had a pissed off with this dirty style of fighting? Who was going to revenge the concussion? Nada. I graduated from high school and left all of that stuff behind me for 3 years.
Then during one of my summer jobs, my high school challenger got hired with my crew. Three years had passed. I was older, he was older. But I wondered if he still had a bit of revenge left in him. I let the first week go by to size him up. He seemed like a pretty good guy. In the second week, during one of our breaks, I started to apologize for my youthful indiscretion. Before I could get out my second sentence, he stopped me. He told me to forget about it. He said that he was just as much responsible and that it was buried.
He had forgiven me. He was a good guy after all.
Since that one fight in high school, I've been punched in the face. I've been kicked in the guts. I've been challenged and I've been called a coward. But I never fought back with physical violence. Maybe I'm a wimp. Maybe I'm a chicken.
I don't want to hurt other people. Call me what you want. I really like myself this way.
We used to punch each other into concussions using hockey helmets and gloves. I always lost against the boys my own age. We were doing for sport... I remember getting my bell rung and feeling like my brain was floating in a bucket of water. Not my idea of a good time, but much less dangerous than what most of my friends were doing. Most of the boys I grew up with loved to fight. They looked for the thrill of knocking someone out. And in most cases, they did. Every once in a while, someone would lose a tooth or get a few stitches. It was more like an right of passage for them. When it came to physical violence, I talked a tough game but I never wanted to get into a fight of my own. I always tried to take the high road as my gramma told me to.
I never associated courage with getting into a meaningless fight. In my first year of high school, many of my friends weren't adjusting well to the new school and were getting knocked around by bigger, tougher guys from a neighboring town. One guy decided to threaten me one day. He told me that he was going to beat my brains out. I was stupid scared. This guy was a trained boxer. He was skinny, but he looked fast. He challenged me to a duo at high noon on the smokers hill. Not being a smoker, I was way out of my comfort zone. Not only did I not want to fight, I didn't want to do it in enemy territory. I ignored the challenge, hoping it would go away. I didn't show up and I never heard a single chicken reference, not even one pacock.
So I started using the strategy of walking away and it worked quite well for me until my senior year. This one kid who was 2 years younger than me but about my size started egging me on for a fight. I wasn't scared of him, but there was no reason to fight. I held nothing against him, and I had no idea what was up his ass.
On two occasions, I walked away from his physical provocation. I didn't want to fight. But he persisted daily with smirks, chicken calls, and rumours. He started to tick me off. After about two weeks, I met him in the stairway. We were all alone. My temper got the best of me and I lost it. I told him I was taking him down that day, when he least expected it. I told him, I was going to hurt him and it wasn't going to be pretty. Looking back, that was so uncharacteristic of me. My anger was speaking for me. I had lost control.
An hour later, we were on our way to the bus and he confronted me one last time. Everyone was laughing because it was so atypical of me. He pushed me twice and I backpeddled twice while informing him to stop it. On the third attempted push, his hands were down low, while my hands were clenched hard as rocks down by my hips. There's no way, he saw what came next - a clean right uppercut straight under the jaw. I surprised him, he fell back and slipped to the ground. Before he had a chance to get up, he saw a foot hit him three times in the head. Then it all stopped. I was out of control. Someone pulled me off. I got on the bus and it was all over.
The police called my parents. I had given him a concussion and he had decided not to press charges. The police told me to expect a retaliation. For the next 6 months, I kept an eye over my shoulder. Who had a pissed off with this dirty style of fighting? Who was going to revenge the concussion? Nada. I graduated from high school and left all of that stuff behind me for 3 years.
Then during one of my summer jobs, my high school challenger got hired with my crew. Three years had passed. I was older, he was older. But I wondered if he still had a bit of revenge left in him. I let the first week go by to size him up. He seemed like a pretty good guy. In the second week, during one of our breaks, I started to apologize for my youthful indiscretion. Before I could get out my second sentence, he stopped me. He told me to forget about it. He said that he was just as much responsible and that it was buried.
He had forgiven me. He was a good guy after all.
Since that one fight in high school, I've been punched in the face. I've been kicked in the guts. I've been challenged and I've been called a coward. But I never fought back with physical violence. Maybe I'm a wimp. Maybe I'm a chicken.
I don't want to hurt other people. Call me what you want. I really like myself this way.
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