Rebels That Break Things , livre ebook

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123 pages

English

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"Loud or quiet, kinky or vanilla, boring or bold, hot or cold, there is no correct way to be a human being! We come in every shape and size, some wild, some wise, just doing our thing. The hard questions of existence are often the most rewarding to explore. What is the meaning of life? What was I born to do? When the answers come easy, the payoff is minimal." From the back cover.Bobby Ford describes his book as a rogue literary experience written for the Black Sheep of the world. The words etched on the page are born from a lifetime of beating impossible odds. It's knowledge passed down the old-fashioned way, through stories and lessons learned. Pain endured. Tools gathered along the way. Ford notes, " I offer these words as a flawed, imperfect being. May they serve you well! Together, we walk." 220 pages. 6 contemplative journaling exercises. Create your Black Sheep Avatar. An experience all its own that will have lasting impact on your life. You've most likely never experienced a book such as this one!

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Publié par	Distributed by eBookpartnership
Date de parution	11 novembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9798350700749
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0574€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Copyright © Bobby Ford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information or to contact the author, please visit his website at bobbyford.io
The paperback edition published in 2022
ISBN 978-1-66786-912-4
This ebook edition published in 2022
ISBN 979-8-3507-0074-9
bobbyford.io
LOVE NOTES
Grams, my rock & mentor.
You are missed and loved.
Friends & Partners, you kept me paddling.
I am forever in your debt.
Mark Becker, no greater ally exists.
Many thanks, Friend.
Bridge To Shore, you saved my life and
then taught me how to live it. Much love.
Wicket & Peanut, you are forever
in my heart, my sweet pups.
The Performing Arts, our projects, ignited
my soul. You are my touchstone.
George Lucas, your heroes, kept me in
the fight. Thank you, Master Jedi.
Felicia Day, you wrote one hell of a book.
My weird is loud and proud!
HEARTFELT THANKS
Art Fuentes. Your art brought magic to this rebel tome and elevated its impact. The cast & crew of Hamilton. Your musical genius became the metronome for this book! Easter Eggs in homage abound. Adiana Vega. Thank you for that final bit of polish on the book title. Brio Cooney. Your insights on the first few chapters and your enduring friendship are a blessing beyond words. Book Baby Publishing. Thanks for your stellar support.

DEDICATION
To my fellow Black Sheep, may this book honor
your value and empower your journey. Continue to change the world one wild idea at a time.
CONTENTS

The Note
Embrace The Struggle
Honor Your Humanity
Own Your Skin
Feed Your Soul
Meet The Moment
Make Rain
Our Sacred Walk

P hotos gathering dust on hard drives. Decades of thank you notes tucked away in a box. Revisiting cherished memories is rarely top of mind. Yet there they are, the memories, the moments, the life I have lived. Twenty photographs went into frames, with several hundred more landing in a photo album. I need those reminders of the story thus far written.
It's easy to forget.
As I wade through cards and images from decades past, I get a glimpse of myself. A warm breeze of sentiment stirs. Chapters of my life, seen in a new light.
In the corporate world, I was the rogue business sage. In the ad game, the visionary brand builder. Shattering the status quo was my modus operandi. University? Not a single class. Business as usual? Hard pass! Vanilla has never been my friend.
On the flip side, I spent fifteen years doing amateur projects in film, improv, and theater. The performing arts set loose my soul! In doing the work, my voice took hold. As is often the case, I found joy outside the lines. Welcome to the Badlands! Pushing the boundaries in theater or film was liberating. Meaningful.
I can be playful as a puppy, then serious as a heart attack. My soul food is people’s stories and struggles. Dreams chased. Challenges embraced. I’m generous to a fault but have a visceral edge when cornered.
The Yin with the Yang. It’s always a juggling act.
Dig deeper, and you'll find an aspiring beach bum. Paradise is white sand, ocean breezes, and the rhythmic sounds of crashing waves. Toss in some Bob Marley, and I’m in heaven! No noise. Just life.
My accomplishments, the experiences I hold close, are beyond my wildest childhood dreams. I’ve also hit rock bottom. It’s a gut-wrenching trial. But that's the rodeo. That's the price we pay to get to the good stuff. The moments we put in photo albums, and the thank you notes we tuck away in boxes.
The words etched on the page are born from a lifetime of beating impossible odds. It’s knowledge passed down the old-fashioned way, through stories and lessons learned. Pain endured. Tools gathered along the way. I offer these words as a flawed, imperfect being. May they serve you well! Together, we walk.
Ultimately, I wrote the book I needed as a young man, but it did not exist. Once that washed over me, the words began to flow. How to craft a rogue literary experience that delivers a lasting impact? To get there, I had to take some risks. Enjoy the ride!
But, who am I to take you on such a journey? To answer that question, we need to do a little time travel.
ESSAY #1: EMANCIPATION
Handsome with a vacant look in his eyes, his Porsche screamed to life. We didn't go anywhere. The stranger and I just sat there, encased in plush leather seats. Loud deafening music purged the need for polite conversation. My mother was prey. I was a means to an end.
One night, an ordinary night, I walked in on this man hovering over my mother’s motionless body. She had suffered another booze-infused blackout. A rancid fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Something felt off. His malice tore through the nicotine haze. I dragged him off my mother and out the front door. Soon after, cops stood in our living room.
I was fifteen years old.
One of the cops pulled me aside. It was not his first visit to our apartment. We need to talk, he said. If I stayed, the nightmare would never end. Worse, I would suffer the same fate. It was a monumental wake-up call. I sued my parents for emancipation. Your Honor, trust me, they don’t meet the job requirements! The State Of California agreed. I was legally an adult by age sixteen.
While my mom survived that night, others like it, her wounds were no longer mine to carry. The cop taught me an important lesson that night. My power is my own, but that power is worthless unless I use it, no matter the cost.
Claim your power.
Rise without compromise.
ESSAY #2: THE RAINMAKER
Surrounding me was a small group of notable community leaders. The photo shoot, smile-click, was for a magazine article about my consultative work in the region. My client base included the local chapter of a national non-profit, two economic development organizations, a city and county government, and a law firm with thirty-plus partners.
The odds against this level of success were staggering! Hard work and extensive self-study paved the way. When life slammed the door shut, I kicked it open. Failure was never an option.
I learned how to make rain.
The anguish from my childhood became fuel to succeed. Buyer beware! This does not happen overnight. Transforming deep wounds into powerful assets is a lengthy endeavor. Eventually, patiently, street smarts became the hallmark of my brand. By my late thirties, I had been a National Sales Manager, the GM of one ad agency, and the owner of another. By my early fifties, I had been a management consultant for sixteen years and a Creative Director for twenty. I have done paid speaking gigs for groups
Early in my career, I doubled down on my Black Sheep edge. Had I not done so, you would not be reading this book. A single choice can alter the course of your life.
ESSAY #3: SMUGGLERS BLOOD
Trauma cuts to the marrow. The longer the trauma endures, the deeper the cuts. Unfortunately, my suffering started at birth and lasted twenty-plus years. Where have the memories of my youth gone? You never shake the loss of your wonder years. Beneath my skin, tattooed on bone, the wounds of old.
Childhood was survival.
Innocence was a weakness.
I had an 85% chance of ending up dead or in jail by age thirty. That was the expert opinion of one therapist. Another predicted a life spent picking up the pieces. I was a broken toy with little hope of repair. The odds are not in your favor! The experts' felt I deserved the truth. As the great philosopher Han Solo once said, "Never tell me the odds!” I guess I have smuggler's blood in my veins. The experts were dead wrong.
Titles do not equal expertise.
Advice does not equal wisdom.
Why are you so outspoken? You have opinions on everything! Why can't you be more pragmatic? You take too many risks! The message was clear.
Know your place.
Shut your mouth.
Go with the flow.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Obedient and silent is not how I roll. I’m the racehorse that always beats the odds. The Fire Within refuses to settle for anything less. The Japanese have a word for that fire, Kuyashii, using the doubt of others as motivation to succeed. Chef Niki Nakayama spoke of it on the Netflix show, Chef's Table.
When the status quo tries to silence my voice, I speak louder. When naysayers try to bring me in line, I cross the line. When the world seems impossible, I blaze a trail. When it all gets to be too much, I binge ice cream. To beat the odds, harness The Fire Within.
ESSAY #4: MR. DIRECTOR
All I do is work! Perhaps a crash course on Filmmaking? There’s no business like show business! Why not? It sounds fun. A single act of whimsy let loose my artistic soul. In many ways, it was the first time I felt truly alive.
I was forty-three years old.
The process of telling stories with pictures kidnapped every ounce of my being. Over several years, I attended numerous filmmaking intensives in Los Angeles and Austin. Books on cinematic storytelling were consumed with reckless abandon. I attended the Austin Film Festival several years in a row. Finally! People that got me. We spoke a common language.
Filmmaking was art therapy. My work was brief, six years, two short films, one of them premiering in the UK. At best, I dabbled. And yet, the filmmaking process ignited my imagination on a different level. Seeing my work on the big screen, followed by a tour through film festivals, was thrilling. It was beyond comprehension.
What about acting? I could never memorize the lines!Maybe improv? Bingo! Two improv schools and countless intensives later, I was hooked. There are no words for the power of improv. It’s a therapeutic roller coaster with a side of Sesame Street.
Can Bobby come out and play? I finally got to be a kid!
A classmate and I put together an improv duo that did over thirty shows in New York City accents. How is that even possible? The magic of telling i