I checked out the website of a guy who helps people to improve their money mindset.

Amidst the elevated, abundance-oriented language, there was one of those clickbaity headlines promising “40 ways to make more money” or something. I clicked, thinking that the article might help me understand more about this person's unique perspective.

Instead, it had the same kind of lowbrow advice you'd find anywhere else. I'm not kidding, driving for Uber was on the list. And selling your jewelry to a pawn shop.

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For years, I resisted advertising for my music school.

I wanted it to be better before I invited new students in. I wanted things to be polished and perfected; I wanted every system to be functioning perfectly and every instructor to do things exactly as I would.

Well, it's been over a decade, friends, and I am still waiting for perfection that will never arrive. In the meantime, we've served hundreds of families who are pleased with what we offer (and sometimes, downright thrilled).

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My husband and I used to go to a burger chain that had insanely delicious burgers, really good french fries, and thick milkshakes made with real ice cream.

This burger chain had counter service that was always incredibly slow. The people who worked there seemed to be in a daze.

What's more, the place was always running out of things. And there were often little handwritten signs around that were meant to correct other signs that had been created by the corporate office.

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You may have heard that a University of Georgia professor resigned on the spot when one of his students refused to wear a mask properly.

The professor, Irwin Bernstein, was a “retiree-rehire,” who had officially retired in 2011 but has been teaching on a part-time basis.

I can’t blame him for deciding, at 88 years old, that life is too short to argue with an undergraduate about masks. And I certainly can’t blame him for attempting to enforce a mask mandate in his classroom due to the ongoing threat of death.

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In 2008, I felt like a weirdo.

I was running a business and didn’t know what I was doing, even though I had read every book I could find to help me. That’s not because I was failing; rather, I was starting to progress past the point where general advice could apply.

Plus, I had read Tim Ferriss’ The Four Hour Work Week, which got me fantasizing about a life in which I could travel around the world, working from anywhere. But that felt like something I should keep to myself. Sharing my ambitions felt like a swift way to destroy my career as a neighborhood music teacher.

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