(As seen on EEGH 03.06.12)
This year would be different, I said.
At the turn of January, I had a sudden realization that I haven’t had a good even year, on the whole, since 2004. In 2006, I underwent personal upheaval. In 2008, I suffered financial turmoil. In 2010 I bore both. Odd years had been brighter: 2007, the year I truly began to lead. 2009, the year I escaped from doom. 2011, the year the two intertwined in new enterprises.
I feared a reversion, following with swift vengeance on the heels of one of my life’s best years. I vowed to beat it back. Perhaps I have.
2012 has been good to me thus far, to such an extent that it feels unsustainable. Yet the annum’s tidings hint at having revealed but a small morsel of the good to come. I once spoke of 2011 as the year of doing things, of making things, of no longer residing in the realm of theory and staking a claim in the tangible. Yet I left the year with evermore blueprints. Truly, now, no more. In the same week, the pharmacy has launched and Trubador will reach completion. Time’s up; pencils down. This is a deeply stressful time, one where determination must persistently beat back uncertainty and doubt. At my best, I manage to not get rattled by the very many things I don’t know, relying on the amalgam of two truths: that smart people might know the answer should I ask them, and that they may not know, either. If those smart people do not know, then I trust that together we can learn to surmount the challenge at hand.
It would be easy to say I know nothing about running a pharmacy. However, it would be fair to wager I know more about it now than the average reader might, and I’m not averse to learning. The same goes for Trubador. I’ve made the schematics entirely in Keynote, exported them to Illustrator and then over to Corel in a workflow so preposterous that no real product designer could ever take it seriously. Yet our product is better, in spite of our hideously ignorant methodology. Never underestimate what wit and toil can accomplish when generously apportioned.
I knew these first few months would be a difficult challenge, rivaling the greatest I’ve faced before. It would be ridiculous to claim that I’ve been conquering with ease those tasks before me, but by hook and crook each has surely fallen. There’s plenty to time for everything to implode, of course. The good news is I’ve been sensible enough to pack a parachute should the worst happen. I do not for a moment believe it will, though. This is it. This is liftoff. There will be no abort. Let’s light this candle.