Ayn Rand Fans Will Hate This Post

It’s September, the first month of my favorite season. Fall means change, a time for new projects after the ease of summer. Fall is crisp air and soft sunlight, time to unpack the sweaters and switch from white wine to red. Fall makes me happy.

What do I do when I’m happy? I read a 700-page book full of devastation and injustice. (You knew all that cheerful lightness couldn’t last for long.) If you haven’t yet read the late Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, you owe it to yourself to take it on. Zinn is a great writer, and despite the density and emotional difficulty of the material, it’s a pleasure to read. (It’s actually devastating, but in a good way. You know what I mean.)

What hit me hardest is that despite his truth-telling about hundreds of years of American cruelty and deception (the subtitle is “1492 – Present”), Zinn ultimately delivers a call to action, the optimistic message that people still have the power to create positive change. A good reminder in difficult times.

I haven’t talked much about the Scamp project beyond the fact that I’ll be driving all over the country and having adventures. (Um, yay!) But there’s a bigger question I’m trying to answer, a question that matters beyond my individual experience.

I don’t think we all need to be martyrs, only working for others. No. Life is for living and enjoying, but it’s also about leaving this world a better place than when we got here. We need to give back, even if it’s in the tiniest of ways.

So get a copy of the book if you haven’t already. I’m betting it will get you thinking about how you could be a more engaged citizen. I know many of you already give back, and to you I say, Bravo. Keep going. But I needed a reminder about why it’s important, and I’m grateful to Zinn for giving me a little push.

What do you do to make a difference?

Since It’s Too Early for a Margarita

I’m a crab this morning. My personal life has become a little complicated and it’s bogging me down. I tend to have a long list of things to do on Mondays, but today I’m looking at it and thinking – Ugh.

My inner drill sergeant says, It’s Monday, Kahler, get off your ass! But today I don’t have the enthusiasm for the list, and there’s nothing I hate more than grumbling my way through a task. (Well, there’s bigotry. I hate that more. But that’s not on my list.)

I know from experience I’ll wake up tomorrow – I tend to have a maximum 24-hour turnaround on bad moods – and feel great. I’ll have enthusiasm for the same tasks I’m dreading today.

So, I’m going for a drive. My mother bought me an early Christmas gift of a gas grill (Thanks, Mom!) but it’s missing a part. The part is at Lowe’s, in Española, about a 45-minute drive south of Taos. The road curves through Taos Canyon, past the Gorge, and along the Rio Grande. The drive is beautiful and meditative, just what I need today. And who knows, maybe later I’ll cook up a little BBQ goodness. Screw you, inner drill sergeant.

What do you do when crabbiness derails your day?

Excuse Me While I Close the Door – I’d Like to Have My M.I.T. in Private

I’ll start today’s Thursday Thievery with something educational: an interview with the smart, smart, smart Jane Friedman (via Wetmachine), the recently ex-Writer’s Digest publisher. The interview is longish, but worth the read if you’re a writer, editor, or anyone interested in the future of books. (Hint: There is, in fact, a future.)

I’ll close with the uneducational, unless you think photographs of Burt Reynolds naked ass make you smarter, or you believe the fact that Michael Bolton survived on macaroni and cheese after the breakup of his first band is something you should have learned in college. Enjoy this and this from Awful Library Books. You’re welcome.

Unless It Involved Free Margaritas and Jason Bateman

I’ve been thinking about my question from Thursday: Do I spread the risk with multiple projects, or put all my eggs in that basket and go for expert status with just one?

I recently joked to a friend that I’ve made the most important decisions of my life with one simple question: What the hell? Despite the flip attitude, I make informed decisions – I research, talk it out with trusted advisors – but ultimately, it comes down to two things: listening to my gut, and imagining the worst-case scenario.

In this instance, the gut says: One project. Focus on it until the end of next year and see where it goes. Learn a hell of a lot about one thing, get really good at it, share my knowledge and experiences. If I’m passionate about this thing, I’m guessing there are others out there like me. Because really, who isn’t passionate about raising ring-tailed lemurs?

Ha, ha! I mean, of course, going on the road with the Scamp. The worst case scenario of going all in is sure, I may have less money in the savings account by next December, but I’ll have also traveled all over the country, met lots of different people, seen the incredible beauty (and weirdness) that is the U.S., and gathered tons of material for a blog, articles, and maybe a book.

In other words, What the hell?

I found this blog post about being the best in a niche, or what Calvin Newport (via The Four-Hour Work Week) calls the Superstar Corollary. Here’s a snippet, where he talks about a high school student who got into Stanford despite less than stellar grades and SAT scores:

Starting as a freshman, he focused all of his extracurricular energies on a serial string of environmental sustainability projects. He started by submitting a model of a green house to a competition. This led him to discover that a local energy company offered a grant program for local high school students. He won a modest grant, and used it, with the help of a retired engineer from his hometown, to retrofit a golf cart to run on biofuels. Leveraging this success, he earned another grant which he used to install solar panels on his school's maintenance shed. This earned him press coverage, and the resulting Superstar Effect helped wow the Stanford admissions department into overlooking his borderline scores.

In other words, pick a tiny playground, and become the best in it.

Newport makes another good point from comedian Steve Martin’s career:

He notes that diligence was crucial in his rise to comedic fame, but he's quick to redefine the term away from its standard definition of "hard work applied consistently over time." To Martin, the key to diligence isn't the work applied to your pursuit, but instead the work you don't apply to other pursuits. He succeeded in reinventing comedy because he kept his focus on comedy, even when other, more shiny and interesting side projects presented themselves.

That last sentence hit home with me, because God knows I’m easily distracted by the shiny and interesting.

So here’s what I’m thinking. Why not focus on solo female U.S. road travel – a tiny playground, but what a blast! – and learn all I can about it. Where to go, how to go, what it’s like traveling this big country alone, and most importantly, how many times can you wear the same pair of pants without stopping at a Laundromat?

I can’t think of a better way to spend the next year of my life.

What about you? What would happen if you went all in on your biggest passion?

My Advice to the Kitten: Squats and Leg Lifts

There are a few projects I could pursue right now – freelance writing, literary memoir, Me and My Scamp, eBay mogul (six sales and I’m fantasizing an empire) – and I’m thinking about the difference between pursuing multiple projects at once, versus focusing on one and becoming an expert in that.

Multiple projects have the advantage of lowering the risk. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket” is a cliché for a reason. If one or two go nowhere, you’ve still got the others. But it’s tough to keep all the balls in the air (Cliché’s R Us!), and do each as well as you’d like.

Becoming an expert is appealing because you can dig deep, immerse yourself in one thing and feel the satisfaction of stretching yourself and your knowledge. But the risk is if it fails, you’re sunk.

What do you think? I’ll talk more about this on Monday, but in your life, which is it? And how is that working for you? Do you need to make a change?

P.S. Here’s one more video in the vein of Sad Things That Make Me Laugh. Enjoy the weekend.

If It’s Not Nailed Down or Breathing, It’s Fair Game

Have you heard of this newfangled thing called eBay? Where you post pictures of your stuff and people buy it? Yeah, I know. I’m a little late to the party. But if, like me, you’re slightly behind (ahem) the technology curve, I’m here to tell you – it’s so easy! And people do in fact buy your stuff! Seriously, it’s like free money.

I think I’d been avoiding it because it seemed complicated. You know, you have to take good pictures and upload them and write pithy descriptions and figure out how to take payment and myriad other super-challenging tasks that aren’t challenging at all. I also thought since I don’t have a track record as a “Top Seller!” no one would risk buying from me.

Let me break it down: It’s not complicated. And people give you their money.

I sold my first six items last week, and just listed eight more. eBay takes 9% of the final sale amount, plus there are minimal listing fees (none of my items cost more than .75 each), but beyond that (assuming you cover your shipping costs), there’s money to be made. Here’s how I did it:

Look around your house for stuff you don’t need. Trust me – there’s plenty. Even a minimalist like me was surprised to find cute tchotchkes I don’t love anymore, clothes I never wear, and a laptop bag that’s way too big for my current Mac. Tip: just because something is “nice,” doesn’t mean you should keep it.

Take pictures of said stuff. Make sure they’re as close up as possible but still clear. Take them against an undistracting background, like the back of a couch (unless your couch is a ‘60s floral, in which case you might want to consider selling that, too). Use your computer software to trim the image down so it mostly shows just the item for sale. Tip: Watch out for reflections of you in the surface of the item, unless you want a permanent record of you in your pajamas with your hair in ponytails floating around the Internet.

Start a Word doc (mine is imaginatively called “stuff for sale”) and write descriptions of your stuff. eBay says the more descriptive you are, the better, and that makes sense. People like to know what they’re getting. Include details such as color, material, dimensions, and condition (e.g. “like new” or “slightly worn”). Tip: Be honest. You don’t want to gloss the truth, then have the buyer be surprised and ship it back.

Figure out what to ask for as the starting bid. This takes some research. I looked at what similar items were selling for on eBay, and thought about what I’d pay for the same item. I may have priced a couple items too low in the first round, but think I did a better job with this second batch. Tip: Unless the item is really valuable, think of whatever you get as free money. Some cash for something you never use or even like is better than no cash and space taken up in your house.

Figure out how much to charge for shipping. This also takes some research, and it seems that most sellers ship USPS Priority Mail, since parcel post isn’t much cheaper and is a lot slower. If you’ll need special packaging (I had to buy a poster tube for $2.50 at the post office), make sure to factor that in. Tip: If you have a bathroom scale, use it. It’s much easier to accurately estimate postage when you weigh each item.

Open an eBay account. This is easy, it basically means choosing a username, password, and method of payment.

Choose your method of payment. The safest and easiest seems to be PayPal, and there are no fees to use it. Mine is linked to my Visa, which then deposits to my checking account.

Post your listing. You post your picture (the first one’s free in most cases, though it’s only .15 for extras), cut and paste your pithy description, use the drop-downs for the descriptors (e.g. “leather” or “Banana Republic”), plug in your starting bid and shipping cost/method, and any other services you want to include. I didn’t use the “buy now” feature, but I made it a ten-day auction period with a one-day turnaround on shipment, and offered a seven-day return policy, buyer paying for return shipping. Again, I just thought about it as a buyer – I’d feel better buying an item from a stranger off the Internet if I knew I could return it.

Wait for the cash to roll in. After shipping costs (I lost a tiny bit because I underpriced it) and eBay’s take, I netted about $145. Not a ton of money, but better than a sharp stick in the eye. And it’s fun to watch toward the end of the auction – buyers start bidding, and in one case (a leather jacket) I even had a down-to-the-wire bidding war. Nice.

Ship your stuff to the buyer. Like I said, I shipped within one day of receiving payment. (You can send a reminder invoice after the auction closes, and three of my five buyers paid the same day I sent it, two only a couple days later. After I received payment I emailed to thank them.) I used bubble wrap for the fragile items, included a little note, and emailed to let the buyer know when I’d shipped and how.

Selling stuff on eBay is addictive, and the potential cash reward definitely motivates you to clean out the closet. I’ll probably do another round after this second one, and have even considered scouting the local thrift stores for stuff I could resell.

Anyone have any eBay tips to share?

I Would Totally Do #20, Though

Money’s been on my mind lately, as in, how do I get some? Because these South American trips and tricked-out trailers aren’t going to pay for themselves. (Please hold your comments about how I could use those things to create an income. This is a family show.) The flip side of that question is, how do I spend less?

I ran across a post at The Consumerist, “27 of the Sickest Things You’ve Done to Save Money,” which makes my switch to Three Buck Chuck seem like absolute luxury. (I know, Californians, it’s Two Buck Chuck for you. Braggarts.)

Any of the Sickest Things look familiar? In my youth my alternative to #25 was buying new underwear, which unfortunately defeated the purpose. And who knew ketchup was such a useful recipe ingredient?

I have a question for the person posting #8: Were they used? Because if not, it seems more expensive. Plus, I’d worry about the effect of grounds on one’s… tender regions. But it’s got to be better than an old t-shirt for a week. Unless the person was cutting off each piece of fabric as he went. (Yep, I said “he.” There’s no way a woman did that.)

Lastly, I have only one word for #23 and #6: Whoa.

What’s your Sickest Thing?