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I’m not too warm or too cool. Nothing is riding up…places. It’s not a physical thing; it’s just a general sense of discomfort. I’ve put myself in this situation and, what’s more, I did it on purpose.

At first it seems that making myself uncomfortable should be added to the list of stupid stuff I’ve done, but even though I’m uncomfortable, it’s a good thing.

First off, comfort is awesome. Few people proclaim their love of hammocks as often as I do. I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon than napping in a hammock that gently sways between shade and sun. Comfort is, of course, relaxing. It calms us down, slows the heartbeat and lets us drop our guard. See? It’s awesome.

But, it’s not what’s best for me right now. I’ve grown tired of my own complacency and have purposefully moved well out of my comfort zone. I’ve done this in the past and reaped the rewards of such “bold” moves, but I’ve always retreated back to the safety of comfort. And, a beer and a hammock.

Lately I haven’t been playing it so safe. Publishing these books and short stories, brazenly boasting that I can make you laugh, and going on and on about myself – this isn’t the hammock me, this is the uncomfortable me.

So, what has this discomfort gotten me? I’ve met a ton of great people. I’m doing something that I’ve always loved with more passion than ever. I’m making people happy (or somehow making them lie to me about being happy). And, I’m having a blast.

Not a bad ROI on some shaky knees, sweaty palms and a quaver in my voice.

So, I’m going to stay uncomfortable and I won’t be getting back in the metaphorical hammock anytime soon. The literal hammock, though – I’ll be getting into that as soon as I can. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.