We borrow our identities when we give in to outside approval.  It’s a counter-force to innovation. “What if they don’t like it?” squelches the courage to ship.  We don’t need approval at the creative stage.  In fact, we don’t need it at all unless we want to sell what we’ve made.  Anyone knows that.  Right?

And so we borrow the attention of anyone we can to ask for their approval. Over and over and over as in,  “Did I get it right this time?”  “How about this time?” My dog is persistent, but at some point he gives up, content to just be.  I wonder if that’s okay for people, or is that a justification for self-doubt and just plain old fear of failure?

At a regular bank, we borrow money, use it, and pay it back. But when we borrow people’s time, we can never pay it back.  Time is gone the minute it’s spent.  One cannot be on “borrowed time.” There’s no future to borrow from. It’s not here. The past has been borrowed out.hourglass No saved minutes languish in reserve at the time bank. In fact, they’re always cleaned out by the, um, ravages of time.

Let’s be careful when we borrow. And we can be careful when people ask to borrow our time. But I know I need to be extra careful when I succumb to a borrowed identity.  Shakespeare’s quote, that may start out as advice on lending money, actually uses the last three lines to advise the benefits of being ourselves. How did he know this? He probably faced it every day at his writing desk!

Act I, Scene 3 of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.



Immunization against insinuation of information into the insanity of instantaneous OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAinterruption and insidious imperfections invites investigation.

Individuals interested in including informed implications of important inroads into the ignorance of intermittent immersion are instructed to ignore inner itches and implore the id to inure  itself against impish interlopers.

Indelibly ingrained in the implications are immediate interventions against individuals’ implicit inclinations to intake all incoming inputs indiscriminately.

Informed individuals ignore interruptions and insist on isolation.

It’s inspiring.


Life is a guess.  I guess I’ll get up. I guess I’ll go to work. I guess I’ll take this route. I guess we’ll have a baby. I guess we’ll take a vacation. I guess we’ll get married. I guess we’ll get divorced… move… take a walk… make bread… find gravity… lose weight… learn to fly… have the house painted.  We guess ourselves. Guess each other. Guess the weather! Guess the future.  Guess the “truthiness” of our beliefs.

Scientists guess. Businessmen guess.  Fathers and mothers guess.  “It’s my guess that …:  “It’s my best guess…: [Has anyone said it’s my worst guess?]  What does guessing do? Well, if it’s a second guess, it’s the wall of doubt — the chasm of procrastination OR the pique of ingenuity. HAH — a second guess may be the road not taken — and the road to discovery/innovation/solution. It’s so maligned that the second guess has lost its value in the timelines, the forward momentum of progress.  Maybe ears should train on that tinny, tiny voice in the back woods that says,   “But what if we did it this way?” It could be the path to discovery. Or the devil of fear. But then, that’s only a guess.

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