In the past seven months I have adopted a cat, purchased a house, switched jobs, lost a marriage, gone skydiving for the first time, gained a roommate, purchased a car, and led an initiative to overhaul my employer’s CMS — in that order.

I’m starting to create again, but I still have a nagging itch. It’s this site. What am I doing with it? Not really anything. It got me the job I needed, but it serves little purpose as a voice for me. I rely on Twitter + Facebook far too much for that. Something needs to change. But when do I have time? Somewhere, I do. But I don’t feel much like sitting on the couch or at my desk to do it. Maybe I should go to more coffee shops and fewer pubs? Perhaps I need to block out a specific day and time to write?

I’ve noticed I’m not the only one — many designers aren’t publishing as frequently as they used to. Our communication channels are shifting ever closer to shorthand, easy-to-consume signals. Are our sites destined to become dusty portfolios slapped up alongside Tumblelogs?

Nay, I tell you! It takes quite a bit of effort to generate content, but we’ve all got to get better about it before the dumb channels take us over. Besides, you can’t squeeze a Photoshop tutorial or a full-blown discussion about frameworks into a tweet. So this is my reminder to myself… Write, dammit! Now I’m no expert, but what do you young designers entering the field want to know O.o

This weekend, the wife and I watched Coach Carter. I’m not prone to watching those sappy, based-on-a-true-story, inspirational movies, but it was decent enough…

As trite as that theme has become, I think it’s important that people, especially the younger generations, know they are capable of many wonderful things, as long as they put forth the effort necessary to attain success and go beyond (I’m looking at you, baby brothers).

This quote from the movie, a paraphrasing of a poem in Marianne Williamson’s A Return to Love, reminded me I need to do more, for myself and for the world:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. […] Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It’s not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

The original poem contains some other extraneous points that narrow the focus of this well-crafted passage, and don’t believe they add to the intrinsic value of what’s being said here. Nor do I personally believe that having this attitude requires your being a person of faith—just that you want to make the world a better place by being yourself.

I dedicate this post to my wife, my family, and my friends who are already bright beacons in an increasingly dim world. But especially to my immediate family, who I love very much, and who I hope to see move far beyond the current rough patch they are experiencing and continue growing into the strong, shining lights mentioned above.