On Thursday, I went live on Instagram with Sarah Steckler of the Mindful Productivity Blog, and we talked about creativity, inspiration, and a routine that will help you have those two things regularly.

(Also, I'm giving a 10-minute video lesson on this topic during Productivity and Planning Week which is July 6-12. It's completely free, and you can sign up here to get some amazing and informative content from a whole lot of people.)

Sarah asked me during our talk what was the hardest part about showing up and putting creative work out there.

And I told her it was the cool kids.

See, I'm mostly a desiccated old hag who is entering her crone phase with grace and aplomb, but I still fear the cool kids from school.

There was a significant portion of my life where I was malleable and went with the flow. No one minds the person who is easy going, and it's easy to be unnoticed.

This mostly looked like me hanging out with whoever would say they were my friend, even if they weren't a good fit for me. Or doing things that I didn't actually enjoy, but I didn't want to rock the boat.

Don't even get me started on how much I kind of hate like 98% of foods out there, but forced myself to eat them because picky eaters are high maintenance, and high maintenance people don't blend in.

This was my imperfect survival mechanism that helped me fit in. It got me through family gatherings, school and the corporate and academic job environments. Hell, it made me a really good employee.

But it also meant that I lost a lot of myself in the process. And I did it all because I was so worried about what others would think of me.

I know now that mostly, people don't think about me.

I mean, you're thinking about me right now because you're reading this. But as you go about your day? You probably don't care about what I'm doing or eating or wearing.

Even so, that's what my inner critic looks like--a bunch of cool kids from Edmond North High School in Juicy Couture velour tracksuits. And I still live in fear of them noticing me.

(Early 2000s fashion was absolute trash, gang. Let's pray it never comes back.)

I still worry what they'll say. I mean, nothing I do is cool. I enjoy the hell out of it, but let me be clear: I'm still doing the same weird shit I did in high school when no one was looking and building a career around it. Only now, it has to be super public.

I know they mostly don't see a thing that I'm doing. I mean, I never got to know them. I'm not friends with them on Facebook. And I don't share much of what I'm up to on personal social profiles, just the business ones.

So not only do they have no idea what I'm up to, they also don't even matter.

DO YOU HEAR ME, COOL KIDS? YOU DO NOT MATTER.

Though, I do wonder what's going on in their lives sometimes, especially after reading a study that found that the more popular a person was in school, the more downhill the trajectory of their life tended to be.

(Take this with a grain of salt. Correlation does not determine causation. If you were a cool kid, it doesn't necessarily mean that your life is now shit. But also know that based on how awkward and arduous my school years and twenties were, I probably won't peak until I'm like 98, which is cool.)

Anyway, writing all this out reminds me of my favorite song from The Hold Steady, Constructive Summer. The best line in that whole song of amazing lines is "let this be my annual reminder that we can all be something bigger."

It's a song about going your own way and doing what's right for you and building up the life you want with your friends during a summer where you climb up to the top of a water tower and drink with them and talk about the big important things.

It makes me feel nostalgic for an experience I never had because I was too busy fitting in and doing what I needed to do so that no one would ever notice me.

But I don't do that now.

And you don't have to either.

Let this email be my annual reminder that you can all be something bigger.

Even if the cool kids make fun of you.

But they won't. Because they don't matter and they never really did.

And, because I feel like you need it, here's the song in case you want to listen. I love everything about it, and I've often said that if I started a career as an MMA fighter, it would be my walkout music.

(Do not worry, friends. I turn 36 in October. Now is not the ideal time for me to be starting a career in MMA, and I won't take a page out of Logan Paul's book and start fighting pro fighters for cash.)

Anyway, I've worked through too many feelings in this newsletter as it stands, so I'll leave you with this.

I'm vlogging my way through Camp NaNoWriMo, and you can see the videos collected in this blog post, along with some past posts about how to conquer your goal. Oh, and if you didn't hear, I'm writing 150,000 words this month. Find out more here:

Thanks for letting me invade your inbox! 

Marisa 

MarisaMohi.com