I strongly disagree.

It’s important to bend when dealing with other people on any level, sure, but that doesn’t mean you should break. If you have to give up what’s important to you in order to be with someone else, it’s very possible you’re with the wrong person. This applies to business relationships, friendships, and more-than-friendships equally. Why on earth would you want to give up what makes you, you, in order to be with someone? And why would you want anyone else to do the same?

There’s a phrase I use to describe what I look for in relationships: harmonious independence. It means that you are you, with or without anyone else. You are complete.

At the same time, your independent spirit plays well with others. You don’t expect anyone else to give up what makes them happy in order to be in your life, nor would you want them to expect it of you. Instead, you support each other in all things. Their personality traits, goals, idiosyncrasies, and other relationships are the reason you want them in your life.

Each of you being whole, independent people is what makes the relationship worthwhile in the first place. You have your own lives, but you meet in the middle because you want to. Your completeness supports their completeness and allows you to become an even better version of yourself in the exchange. As a result, you can be tied as loosely or closely as makes sense for your situation — in either case, you contribute to each other’s lives in a positive way.

A relationship worth having does not require you to be anyone but the best possible version of yourself.

It’s not that I can’t appreciate the drink and what it represents culturally. Coffee is thought to have been a major boon to the Industrial Revolution (if not the fuel for it), and the smell is lovely. Coffee shop culture is appealing to me, and most everyone I know who does good work has one coffee minimum per day.

That being said, I grew up working at a bookstore with an espresso bar. From age 14 until 19, I saw regulars come in with the coffee twitches, recovering from their last cup, but still needing an additional buzz. Wanting to kick the caffeine withdrawal they were still experiencing from not having a boost all night long.

I like caffeine, and though I think we’ll learn a lot more about it in the coming years — good and bad — at the moment I like having it in my life to some degree or another. I’ve experimented with it quite a bit — cutting it out of my life completely, upping my dosage to not-quite-dangerous levels, and meandering between the two extremes — and have determined that while I can very happily live without any of it at all, I do benefit from a cup of something energy-laced here and there. For several years I filled this void with energy drinks (as part of some brand research I was doing at first, and then out of laziness), and once those started to make me feel sick I would bump back to tea, sipping down numerous cups a day to ease myself down from the high that the Red Bulls of the world would kick me into.

Coffee, however, occupies a nice space between ‘too intense and unhealthy’ and ‘not intense enough and slightly difficult to come by.’ It also doesn’t set off my bullshit detectors like the energy drink industry does, with all their wild claims and superfluous pseudo-vitamins.

I don’t care for coffee, but that’s part of why it’s perfect for me right now.

Many years ago — back in my college days — I didn’t really like wine, so I avoided it almost completely. It took meeting people with an enthusiasm for the drink to break me out of that shell, and now I have a real appreciation for it. The same was true with beer. And whiskey.

And like the aforementioned alcoholic beverages, I want coffee to fill a role in my life where it’s not something I sit around and crave, but rather a nice addition to an already complete life. I don’t need addictions — in fact, my personality doesn’t allow me to have them — but I do enjoy a proper lifestyle accessory, so long as it pulls its own weight and doesn’t hinder me in any way. Coffee is relatively cheap, easily attained, and can give me a kick of caffeine when I want it. Perfect.

This is why I’m taking the time to drink coffee, despite my distaste for it. I’ve found over the years that even though I may never really like something, I can at least appreciate and make use of it, with enough practice and the right attitude. So long as the thing you’re exploring isn’t truly dangerous — I wouldn’t recommend, say, making the time to appreciate heroine — this is an attitude that can only increase your range of experience, rather than limiting it.

New experiences are key to a fulfilled, well-rounded life. So long as you avoid absolutes — and addictions are one type of absolute worth removing from your life — anything can become an asset. All you have to do is look for the good in the bitter.

I started Exile Lifestyle about 4 years ago — April 19, 2009 — and if you look back at my earliest posts, they’re pretty rough. My voice hadn’t really developed and I spent a lot of time those first months trying to figure out where my sweet spot was — what I could write about that would set me apart, and which other people would care to read.

I was also trying to figure out what role this blog would play in my life. I knew I was about to undergo some drastic changes, and was just coming back from a very important trip, during which my wonderful ex and I decided to throw a breakup party 4 months in the future, completely upending our lives and hopefully finding paths that were a better fit for each of us. It wasn’t an easy moment, but it was pregnant with possibility, and as a result it was easier to ignore the difficulties than it would have been otherwise. As I dove deeper into the blogging scene, the friends that I made there, and the things they were talking about, made looking past the discomfort of the present toward the bright lights of the future a million times easier. I’m incredibly grateful for that.

I’m also grateful for all the people I’ve met since those early days — the people who send me emails to say thanks or just to introduce themselves. Those who engage in discussion on my Facebook page, respond to the stuff I post on Twitter, or pick up copies of the books I write. The folks I’ve been fortunate enough to meet in person along the way, whether in coffee shops, at book tour stops, out on the town for a beer, or because they’ve invited me into their homes (or welcomed me to their country). It’s difficult to express how much impact you’ve all had on my life, and just how positive that impact has been. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.

The result of all the experiences I’ve had, places I’ve visited, and people I’ve met in the past 28 years — the last 4 especially — is that I’m a little less ignorant of the world around me and ever more aware of just how much I still have left to learn. The resulting ‘enlightened humility’ is something that allows me to continue to grow, despite a burgeoning confidence that stems from all the failures and successes I’ve been fortunate enough to have. Looking at the world and realizing just how small I am — but also knowing that it’s within my power to grow by increasing my knowledge, having a positive impact on others, and producing value when possible — is an incredible feeling, and a significant part of why each day seems better than the last.

It’s also been heartening to learn that we’re all essentially the same no matter where you go. We may have different backgrounds — different genetic traits and experiences that shape our personalities and the specifics of our desires — but we’re all human, and with extremely few exceptions, we’re all damn good people, when we have the opportunity to be. This should not be overlooked or overshadowed by all the tiny little details that don’t sync up, but which we unfortunately tend to focus on over the core structures we all share.

I could ramble on about this for a long time, so I’m going to stop there and simply say this: I’ve been fortunate to have a very good life. I’ve got a great family, amazing friends, thoughtful readers, and I’m able to do the work I love while surrounding myself with the people I want to have around, both physically and electronically.

Thank you so much for the role you’ve played in that happiness.

I’m able to do this partially because of laws that say cars can’t drive on sidewalks, but also because we — as citizens of countries with governments that have traditions and folkways — have common goals that are best achieved by doing what we can to avoid harming each other.

This social contract is never officially signed, but it’s very real. Every time we stop at a red light or stand in a queue — despite there being no law-enforment official there to lock us up if we don’t — we’re adhering to mutually beneficial standards of operation. If I do X, other people will also do X, and Y (the consequences of not doing X) will not be something we have to worry about.

In the above example, I can walk down a sidewalk because everyone in this country has agreed that we won’t drive our cars on them. By restricting our actions in one sense, we free ourselves in another. Such is the nature of good laws and good social contracts.

Unfortunately, there are circumstances where these contracts subtract more than they add to our lives, or subtract freedoms for one portion of the population so that another portion will gain. Those who prefer to drive on sidewalks obviously lose out in the above example, and those who enjoy hunting suffer when national parks are made off-limits for sport. In the tradeoff, though, pedestrians gain and so do the animals who might otherwise be shot and eaten.

None of us sign a contract that brings us into the cultural and governmental fold. None of us are given the option to support some laws and not others, because doing so would reduce the positive consequences of those laws — of those social contracts we have with each other. Like religion or accents, we tend to pick them up at a young age, before we know the difference and that there are, in fact, other ways of worshipping or speaking or organizing society.

It’s interesting to see at what point different people will stand up and declare that something is fishy in government. That something being done is not right, and that they intend to break the law as an act of protest, or to enjoy a freedom that was taken away.

We love protesting in the US, and though a raised voice may not accomplish anything, the act itself seems to be quite therapeutic for those involved. Elsewhere, protests are less common, but more effective — when it happens, it’s serious, as those involved stand to lose a great deal for their disruption of the status quo.

There are a lot of decisions made by politicians and the lobbyists who pull their strings that I don’t agree with, but in most cases it’s still worth my effort to adhere to those rules when possible. Not because I believe in them, but because taking a stand on every little thing reduces the impact of my words. If I were to raise a rallying cry over every travesty the government commits, not only would I shout myself hoarse, but the people who listened to me initially would soon tire of my voice.

Much better — I feel — to save my shouts for core issues vital to my long-term happiness. I have a policy to obey the law most of the time. Doing so allows me to continue walking down the sidewalk, daydreaming, while also allowing me to save my voice for when it’s most desperately needed.

It’s often said that good design is invisible — that it presents the intended message without calling attention to itself — but to a designer, it’s that so-called invisible design that gives you the biggest thrill. Seeing creative work done well is a distinct pleasure.

Design isn’t invisible and it isn’t flamboyant: it’s exactly what you need it to be in a given moment. It’s art, it’s math, it’s discipline, it’s chaos. Depending on the goal, design can be black or white or red or transparent. The shape it takes is determined completely by the purpose it was created for, and without someone there to shape it, design doesn’t exist.

Of course, learning to shape such things can take time. It took me four years of school, plus another eight working as a professional designer to get where I am today, and I’ve still got plenty left to learn. In fact, there will always be a new horizon to chase, because there will always be new tools to try, concepts to master, and boundaries to push.

Design is a way of looking at the world, but it’s also a passport for crossing the borders between professions.  By nature, designers tend to be multi-disciplinarians, and as such can hop from career to career, making use of their creative talent while acquiring new skill sets.

From college onward I’ve been a painter, a journalist, a print shop specialist, a software technician, a photo retoucher, a magazine publisher, a protest ‘zine creator, a photographer, a web developer, a motion graphics designer, a UI specialist, a creative director, an entrepreneur, an author, and the co-founder of a publishing company. In each and every case, the basic, foundational skills I’ve learned as a designer have helped me do the work and have increased my options along the way.

There are as many ways to train yourself in design (and other incredibly versatile skills) as there are people. Taking the traditional route (as I did) is a good, if expensive, option, though I would recommend working jobs in your field alongside classes (again, as I did) to supplement your philosophy with practical experience.

You can also come up with your own coursework making use of cheap and free resources online. There are myriad great books, videos, and blogs on the topic — take some time to peruse them and walk through the tutorials, and you may find yourself with a new, very versatile set of skills you can bring to bear within a few months. These options are also quite useful for their a la carte tutorials when you need to pick up a very specific skill or proficiency that you’ve never needed to learn before.

Another option would be to take a class like the one I’ll be teaching in May, called Intro to Design for Publishing.

You can learn more by clicking the link above, but in short it’s a four-week class through which I’ll be teaching students the fundamentals of design, especially as it applies to publishing.

There will be a lot of information, a good deal of homework, and a frightening amount of critique (by me, but also student-to-student). Each student will also learn the basics of Photoshop and Illustrator, with the end-goal of having all the knowledge necessary to do their own work and find new information on their own when they need it.

This class isn’t for everyone — you’ll have to really want to make use of the information, and if you aren’t willing to put in the work, I’d prefer you didn’t sign up.

I’m hoping it also goes without saying that there’s absolutely no pressure to sign up for this class, or to purchase anything I have available for sale — this blog is and will remain free, so please enjoy the work I publish here either way!

There are a very limited number of seats in the class, however, and about half are already filled as I publish this (advance notice was given to folks who are subscribed to my free newsletter, and those who subscribe to Exiles), so if you’re interested, it’s best to sign up posthaste.

If you have any questions about the Intro to Design for Publishing class, or just want to say hi, shoot me an email.

Thanks folks!

It’s not that this application of minimalism is a bad choice — it’s more that it isn’t a choice at all. An accidental minimalist is still a minimalist, but not in the same sense as someone who owns a yacht and decides to ditch it to live in a cabin. Calling an impoverished person living in a third world country a minimalist is like calling someone who’s never heard of meat a vegetarian: without the philosophy behind the label, the label loses its validity. It’s more of an unavoidable reality than a philosophy — a default state that requires a different title, or no title at all.

When you do something, you should do it consciously. If you decide to stop eating meat, you should do it because you choose to — because you’ve thought out the pros and cons and weighed the decision carefully — rather than being forced into it due to outside conditions beyond your control.

With no options, there’s no decision. With no decision, there’s no purpose. With no purpose, there’s less chance you’ll be changing for the better.

It’s not just what you do that matters — it’s why you do it. A positive act performed accidentally is far less valuable than one performed intentionally because you may not be able to replicate it or glean all you can from the experience.

Take the time to figure out where you are and where you want to be, and act accordingly. Paddle — don’t just float and call yourself a swimmer.

Dentists. Cars. Weather. The dark. Ghosts.

I would go to sleep each night and pray to whatever gods or spirits might be listening, asking them to protect me until I woke up. At that point — I imagined — I would be alert enough to start worrying again, giving me some kind of will-powered protection against the supposed threats I spent a great deal of my time fixated on.

It’s possible to get over fears, though I’m not going to tell you that there’s nothing in the world that sets my teeth on edge anymore. I’m still afraid of things like failure and death and being mutilated by wild animals or malfunctioning heavy machinery. But one of the more significant evolutions I’ve undergone in the past decade or so is that I’m no longer afraid of fear. Or to put it another way: simply being afraid of something does not deter me from doing it.

In fact, I’ve found a lot of value in pursuing the very things that scare me initially. This serves the double-purpose of reiterating to myself that fear can be a silly reflex, not an absolute judgement of how dangerous something is, while also allowing me to destroy potential ceilings I might cover myself with before they have the chance to form. The latent benefit of chasing down your fears and proving them harmless is that you expose yourself to people and places and experiences you wouldn’t otherwise encounter. This makes you a far more well-rounded person, and allows you to see the world from many different angles.

I’m not saying you should ignore your instincts and jump into a pit of hungry lions. I am saying you should question your instincts and make sure a more primal part of your brain — shaped by genetics and your upbringing and biases — isn’t leading you astray and keeping you from living your life for fear of what could go wrong.

Only by testing our limits can we know how far we’re able to go, and only by shoving fear out of the way are we able to see that it’s just a shadow making scary shapes on the wall, not an actual monster.

Note: I’ve recently faced a handful of my own fears (staying in one place, building businesses that take more than one person to run, living with other people in cumbersomely large homes) by deciding to spend 6 months in Missoula, Montana to work on a publishing business with two other people, who I’m also living with in a big house we’re using as an office.

I’ve been talking about this quite a bit in my free newsletter, but Asymmetrical Press has dominated a lot of my attention of late, and with good reason. We’ve got a whole lot going on and even more on the horizon, and I want to bring your attention to one of our projects, Chapbook, the first issue of which is available for free on Amazon until March 2.

Chapbook is a compilation of short work, pulled from larger works from myself and the other authors currently publishing under the Asymmetrical Press imprint. Authors in this edition include Joshua Fields Millburn, Ryan Nicodemus, Shawn Mihalik, and Chase Night. I’m super-crazy-excited for people to see the kind of work we’re producing and publishing, so if you have a second, go snag yourself a free copy, and I would truly appreciate it if you’d leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads once you’ve had a look. These reviews help Asym and our authors immensely, and I really appreciate you taking the time!

Because of bureaucracy, government officials who obfuscate the democratic process flourish over those who try to bring clarity to it. Businesspeople who are able to shake the right hands and manipulate the right paperwork succeed over those who bring real value to their customers and supply line. Defendants who are able to afford the right lawyers can dodge sentencing in perpetuity, while those who commit far less heinous crimes go to jail for life.

Bureaucracy is the result of some damn good ideas gone awry. It’s a buildup of dust on top of a beautiful and practical artifact, to the point where the dust weighs more than its host. It’s ballast that was meant to stabilize a fair and just system, but drowns it instead.

It may be a fool’s errand to try and save the system from bureaucracy, but it’s very possible to save yourself from tangling up your own life in unnecessary hurdles and rules. To establish sound checks and balances, without the too-specific catch-alls that end up weighing down every decision, resulting in legally-supported logical fallacies.

Instead of piling on rule after rule, diet after diet, solution after solution, and philosophy after philosophy, once a month take the time to explore old ideas. Old biases and lessons. The things you picked up from your parents as a child, and from your schoolyard chums as a fifth grader may not mesh with the eureka moments you had as a college student or while traveling the Yangtze. Making sure the core principles you’re acting upon day to day are based on ideas and experiences you still believe in is key in establishing a bureaucracy-free moral compass.

You may not be able to reconcile everything you’ve ever learned or done, but you can cut out the deadwood and eliminate the unnecessary from your philosophical hope chest.

Living in LA is very expensive. You can barely step out your front door without paying a Jackson for the privilege.

Living in Kolkata is incredibly cheap. You can live in a huge apartment one of the nicer complexes in one of the nicer buildings in the city for a fraction of what you’d pay for a run-down one-bedroom flat in Los Angeles.

There is a spectrum of such costs — living in Missouri is more expensive than living in India, for example, but costs far less than shacking up in Los Angeles — but there is also a quality of life spectrum to take into consideration when deciding where to put down roots.

A place like LA has a lot going on, and there’s plenty of culture and opportunity and work. There are millions of people doing interesting things, and the weather is perfect to an almost ridiculous degree. There are beaches. There are beautiful people.

Kolkata also has a lot going on, but it’s on a very different part of the spectrum than Los Angeles. There’s plenty of culture, but the quality of opportunity leaves something to be desired. The weather is atrocious, and the infrastructure is dilapidated. It’s an unhealthy-feeling place with some wonderful people living in it.

All costs — monetary, cultural, geographical, culinary — must be taken into account when deciding where to spend your time.

The goal is to find a place that suits you and your needs. A home where the exchange rate — of money for quality of life — fits your capacity to earn, and your desire for culture, business opportunities, security, and anything else that’s important for your lifestyle.

Be warned: the math of this equation can change over the years.

For a very long time I opted to spend gobs of money on rent and cope with big-city difficulties because the tradeoff was worthwhile for me and what I wanted from my life. But every year I find myself with a greater appreciation for cities of around 100,000 people; a place with a few universities and lots of creative locals. With fewer people you have less variety, but thanks to the internet and connections I’m able to make while traveling, that is one downside that matters less and less.

On the other hand, I know many people who have evolved in the opposite direction: they always wanted the smaller-town lifestyle but eventually come to enjoy the perks of living in a city with millions of people in residence.

Your environment isn’t the most important aspect of your life, but it is an important aspect of it. Take the time to figure out what kind of place fits you best — take some road trips or vacations overseas, outside the tourist circuit — and see what options are available.

Changing where you spend your money makes all the difference in how much happiness and fulfillment you get for it.

The unfortunate side-effect of having strong opinions and beliefs is that after establishing them, we’re less likely to question them. Sure, they may evolve in little ways, but to swerve greatly would require either acknowledging that you were wrong in the past or that you have changed in some significant way since your beliefs and opinions were initially established. Neither realization is easy to accept.

This is why bending is important. Bending, in this context, means allowing yourself to entertain opinions and beliefs beyond your tried and true collection.

Bending allows us to experiment with opinions and beliefs other than our own for a short time. It may be for the duration of a conversation, or the span of a vacation. Either way, the end result is that we better understand other people’s positions on various topics, resulting in a larger arsenal of perspectives to pull from when it’s time to make a decision or reanalyze the paths we walk.

Rigidity is great in some ways, but we shouldn’t be afraid to bend at least as much as we are rigid in our habits, beliefs, and philosophies. A perspective with no give is more brittle than solid.