It's happening

It was a week or so prior to college graduation and in an effort forged by fear, naivety and steel will determined to “stick it to the man” my friend, “BP” and I found ourselves at the Borders off of Mill Avenue in Tempe late one night. We were on the floor, nestled on the carpet in various yoga-like poses and surrounded—literally—by book after book on how to start your own business. We had pens in hand, paper on floor, and we were lost among the titles, among our dreams, completely unperturbed when customers politely stepped over us to get to a neighboring shelf. We were euphoric on waves of motivation and want but faced those whimsy things armless, sans tools and knowledge.

In the coming months we graduated. We got jobs. We worked 8 to 5 and 9 to 5 and everything in between. We found comfort in a steady paycheck, climbed the so-called ladder and then…

“This is it?” we asked each other, one night over wine in San Francisco. “This is what it comes down to? Living in Arizona and working a regular job and….what about everything else?”

And so we went at it again, this time smarter. Slower. More thoughtful.

This summer it’ll have been a year since BP and I clinked champagne glasses to starting our own business together. It will have been one year since we had 3 a.m. negotiations with a man in Europe, fighting fiercely over the price of a domain name we told ourselves we needed. It will have been a year since we created databases, resource lists, reached out to a Web developer. It will have been a year since we once again opened up those new business books we bought late that night in Tempe, nearly five years ago. A year since we talked copyright law, logo creation and brand. Created FAQs. Brainstormed over brunch with mimosas and laptops.

It started off slow and then something—and I’m not sure of the what or the why—happened and now it’s this daily disease of emailing back and forth. Sneaking research time here and there at work. Afternoon texting of inspiration and the flicker of bright ideas. The pooling of resources and the mutual respect and the underlying hum of faith that we can do this.

Somewhere within the slum of this economic downturn and the daily drivel of my job, which has become robot-like and often sits in my life like a molding fruit, I haven’t been this happy with my “work” in a long time.