I’m a cynic. And I’m a contrarian. When the pop-culture collective is doing something, I usually don’t want any part of it. By staying aloof, I nourish my emotionally wounded soul on a diet rich in the fat of condescension. That’s how I feed my deflated sense of self. That’s how I roll.
Dreams are made with sweat and discomfort, effort and uncertainty and moments of success and failure. They’re kneaded together with sacrifice and generosity and held together with drive, perseverance and surrender.
Relationships are like that too. And so is sponsorship.