Four years.

That's how long I've been doing this now.

Each time my blog's odometer rolls over a year, I think a lot about what I'm doing and why. When I started, it was very clear. I didn't really have any ambitions about building an audience or using my site to get work. All I wanted to do was write funny, or at least pleasant, little things that people could read if they wanted. If you go back and read my first post on Neopoleon, you'll get an idea of what I mean.

I had no idea what would happen because of that one little post. I still can't make much sense of it.

Since starting this site, I've been published, had my contracting services used by companies because certain decision makers thought I was "funny," been flown around, let into [insert conference/event here] for free, co-hosted a highly successful podcast, watched as my own podcast went from zero listeners to being featured on the podcasting landing page for iTunes, somehow gotten involved with a bad reality TV show on A&E, gotten in a couple arguments with Steve Ballmer in front of large crowds (not my proudest moments), lost a great girl, nearly married another, popped up in news all over Europe with this fabulous lady, had the strangest relationship of my life with a thing of absolute beauty, engaged many other women in many ways over the years, learned that women think writers are hot and will fly out just to meet and sex you, been to just about every bloody state of the union, given talks in three countries, been invited to speak in many more, been in the New York Times, shown up on various TV shows, somehow grew the site from about three-hundred page views a month to a million, been offered all kinds of amazing jobs, turned down offers for all kinds of amazing jobs, learned a lot about how to properly conduct myself in relationships, finally learned that I do regret a few things, grown closer to my parents, chickened out of quitting my various jobs to write for a living, seen the uber-lame side of corporate America, slept in airports, slept in cafes, been confused by general human behavior, learned that money has zero impact on my happiness, learned that integrity is more important to me than popularity, gotten into arguments with the self-important autopimps that are other bloggers, spent way too much on fragrances, gone through phases of crying on a daily basis, determined that nobody knows what they're doing, succeeded, failed, backed out of a book deal because I didn't like the way my writing was being edited, missed London, missed Paris, missed Kori, and lost the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure to know.

And that's just the beginning.

I'll fill in the blanks someday, and it will probably be among the best writing I'll ever do. The best stuff is the stuff that has to stay hidden because I chose many years ago to work in corporate environments where people have a hard time processing anything that doesn't fit comfortably into their world views. If you aren't wearing the right clothing, driving the right car, using the right jargon-ridden vocabulary, kissing the right asses, going to the right church, overtly heterosexual, clean-shaven, interested in the right sports, ready to submit to authority, and willing to adopt a set of rules that makes no sense, then you're screwed.

I think I'm screwed. I can't wait for the day when I can write whatever I'd like. Right now, nobody's telling me what to write and what not to write, but I have little doubt that, were I to actually say what I think about things or author posts in which I share the interesting parts of my life, I'd lose a job.

Not ready for that yet.

But I will be.

Happy birthday to Neopoleon.