You’re a mess and your mind is all over the place.
Your thoughts are fractured, your motivations are wavering at best and dubious at worst.
You’ve been making media and messaging and advertising and whatever the hell communications are morphing into your whole damn life.
You’ve won a bunch of awards, the apparent respect of your peers and more than a few accounts. (You’ve pitched your heart out, wrenched success from the jaws of failure, showered partners with gold. You’ve microdosed, you’ve overdosed. You’ve done it all.)
And for what? You worry you’ve given the best of you to save some brands that couldn’t care less. You feel you’ve wasted your creativity on making corporations ever larger, ever richer.
You’ve justified it all because, hey, you need money. Who doesn’t? But stop for a moment. Check your bank account, draw a line over your assets, look at everything you have.
Seriously, look at how much you’ve earned over the years. Look at how much tax you’ve paid. It’s astonishing. Especially as you don’t really care for money, do you?
You’re all about ideas. The new, the next. The unusual, the unfamiliar, the unexpected. Those things you’re inexplicably drawn to. That’s what the world needs now.
In case you haven’t noticed, the world is a complete and utter fucking mess. It’s on fire, drowning and battling a raging pandemic all at the same fucking time. We need help.
Facts won’t save us, rhetoric won’t save us. Politics definitely won’t save us. All the old ideas are going to kill us. We need new ideas. Your ideas.
Gather all those slips of paper, half-started screenplays, broken poems and paeans. Your imagination writ large in all its splendor. Wonders only you can bring to life.
The world is pining for the new ideas hiding in your heart. Electrify them.
Let them fly.