buy provigil american express In the first week of 2013, I was one of two finalists for a great job in Zurich, Switzerland, but didn’t even get interviewed; my mentor of 25 years died; I was sued; and my girlfriend of 2-1/2 years broke up with me. And just for good measure, I broke out in a rash that covered my face. Once I had wallowed in that pain and loss for a couple of days, I started writing about this week-from-hell in my journal. That’s when my knowledge of story structure, Joseph Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey, and comic books allowed me to see what I was really facing.
see here I realized that in classic myth structure, I was at the point of no return.
chloroquine phosphate tablet I could no longer afford to drag all of my belongings with me anymore. I didn’t own a moving truck and had no money to even rent one. I knew that I had to live like a space pirate – I would have no home, and everything I owned needed to fit in my version of the Millennium Falcon or Serenity – a 1996 Subaru Impreza with 250,000 miles on it.
So I fully embraced this all-or-nothing strategy. During a very snowy February in Boulder, Colorado, I sold or donated my every possession, outside of my laptop and the clothes that could fit in my beat-up old hatchback. I used the money from my sales to pay my bills, I packed my car, and I began a new life.
Two weeks later I was in Napa, California, running marketing for the very first BottleRock music festival (we had some major acts play there that year). Within six months I was boarding a plane for Prague, in the Czech Republic, for a month-long contract. That turned into a job offer, and a year after selling everything I owned, I was living in a 17th century baroque manor within walking distance of Prague Castle. When I left Prague a year after my first trip there, everything I owned still fit on a single luggage cart at the airport.