Sunrise No. 339 of 1,500+
- Sunrise time: 8:19
- Azimuth: 123° ⇡
- Did the sun rise: Yes
- Was the sun visible: Notta
- Temperature: 22 ºF
- Felt like: 22 ºF
- Conditions: Clear
- Humidity: 71%
- Wind: 2 mph ⇡
- Wind gust: 8 mph
- Average low: 18 ºF
- Average feels like: 31 ºF
- Record low: 0 ºF
- Record low feels like: -14 ºF
- 20 sec
Fish Dock, Marquette, MI
0.5 miles from home.
📍 46° 32' 30" N, -87° 23' 19" W
Musings [401 words]
On Tuesday I launched another successful campaign, at least the start of it, The Plaidvent Calendar. To my bewilderment, there was no mention of “plaidvent calendar” in Google results before this. It’s such a simple obvious idea, how could that be?
Within 14 hours there were over 500 people who signed up. Not bad.
So I’m thinking of ideas, campaigns, projects. In this case it was something that came to mind just a few days earlier. The sunrise project is no different. Super simple idea, one that just requires a lot of commitment. Everything beyond that is execution. I thought of doing it 24-48 hours in advance, for a year-long project.
I spend a lot of time wondering what prevents ideas from being executed.
I recognize now that there must be something different about me from most. Hometown Invasion Tour, Plaidurday, 906 Day, Beer With Branson, sunrise stuff, and the list goes on. None of them are particularly original ideas. It’s just that I did them. I certainly don’t believe it’s the coming up with ideas that sets me apart. The ideas are the commodity. I think what sets me apart is a very tiny notion of any barriers.
What I’ve learned just in the last year is that most people wait for permission. I need investors before I can start this business. I need to make sure its ok with my friends and family before I do this crazy road trip. I need to get grant funding before I start this festival.
Where is the permission in Richard Branson’s quote of, “Screw it, let’s do it.”
I guess I gravitate towards that.
What accompanies that thought is my childhood. I had a great childhood, but there is a sense that I had to ask permission for anything. By the time I graduated college and started planning the Hometown Invasion tour, I wanted to stop asking for permission. It was my time now, I earned it.
Even to this day, if I’m home in Baraga for a weekend, I’ll ask my dad for permission if I can have one of his cans of Mountain Dew. Of course, with all my projects, they’ve been solo endeavors. Maybe I’ve always wanted that independence that something I want to do doesn’t have to be reconciled.
I’ll head home on Saturday for my dad’s birthday. Maybe I’ll take a can of Mountain Dew without asking.