I was born in 1975, and though I am not completely nostalgic for that era, growing up in the mechanical age of the 1980s, before the digital world consumed so much of daily life, was grounding in a way that recent generations cannot understand fully. Vestibular migraine pushed me backwards, in a positive way, toward the non-digital age. 

I opened my email and found an old scan of a college parody newspaper, something along the lines of MAD Magazine.  The front page showed two naked men, one much shorter than the other, with rectangular black bars covering their eyes and their genitals. 

Most campaigns resist direct attribution, because great marketing works the way water shapes stone: not through a single dramatic moment, but through constant pressure over time. The brand that shows up consistently — in the right publications, in the right conversations, in the right inboxes — is the one people trust when it finally matters.

What happens when we monetize our hobbies? This question often flows from the cultural pressure to "follow your passion." Rather than enjoying an activity for the mental and emotional benefits it provides, we're constantly nudged toward selling everything we make — jewelry, crafts, artwork, writing. Etsy, Patreon, and Substack have made this easier than ever

Almost every generation faces these accusations as they come of age.  It’s not because they are of a particular generation; it’s because they are teens who have underdeveloped frontal lobes and lack the keys for decision-making and executive function. But is there something to the idea of a generational work ethic?

When hiring, it’s tempting to assume that a candidate’s expansive LinkedIn network will unlock partnerships, revenue, or rapid growth. In reality, most people can actively leverage only a small fraction of their connections.