Neither I nor Tim Brownson are islands

This is a guest post by my fish-and-chips-eating life coach, Tim Brownson. In it, he explores many untruths about me and mocks me openly. Enjoy.

And because I know that some fools will take what Tim says literally, um… yeah, don’t take this too literally.

Oh, and one last thing: good fucking luck figuring out what the hell he is saying through all of the Britishisms. The use of 3-D glasses is suggested.

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No man is an island. I’m sure you’ve heard that expression many times and I’m here to tell you it’s a load of old bollocks. For instance, my mate Bob Island that works at NASA can say categorically and without any risk of contradiction, he is indeed an Island.

Still, John Donne (the dude that first wrote that quote) maybe could have said:

“You know what? We all rely on other people to a greater or lesser extent. Sure, some people work alone and shit like that, but they still need electricity, transportation and cheese. So therefore, they rely on others and thus, are connected.”

Admittedly it’s not as snappy as the original, and he’d probably have been burned at the stake for heresy, talking about electricity centuries before Al Gore invented it — but technically speaking it would have been more accurate.

I don’t think I’m breaking client confidentiality when I tell you that Truant was a mess when I first met him. A blubbering, incoherent shell of a man that fantasized about Zombies and had nightmares about naked women.

His fruit fly fetish that you will know about if you have been reading for any length of time was quite frankly out of control, and his finances had people from Enron wincing in pain and offering help.

Even though he was on his knees and only a haddocks dick away from living under a cardboard box and smelling of urine for the rest of his unfortunate life, he still had the wherewithal to call and beg me to coach him.

Of course I mocked him to begin with, but 5 hours of sobbing down the phone is enough to break down even the steeliest of resolves. So eventually I crumbled and agreed to take him on as a client under the strict condition that he never told a living soul. At that point he asked if he could tell his Zombie buddies and I told him to grow up.

Zombies have lips too you know.

Why we work together

You may be wondering what possessed me to take on a lunatic like Truant. That’s a fair question, and one my wife asked me several times when I was wandering around in a daze, muttering to myself and wearing a thousand-yard stare after our early sessions.

Bizarrely, I stuck with it due to a gut feeling — a gut feeling that this wreck of a human being actually had potential. Not lots of potential you understand — I mean he wasn’t going to become an ‘A’ list blogger or anything like that — but he had enough to make me think he wasn’t such a tool after all.

The fact is, Truant was hitting the phones begging half of the Internet to help him. It was months later that I found out I had listened to the same five hour tape of him weeping down the phone that everybody else had.

I also knew that if I could pull several rabbits out of one hat and help JT get where he wanted I would cement my place in the Life Coach Hall of Fame. Of course I’m a modest guy, (talk of me commissioning that 40 foot statue of myself was grossly exaggerated. It was actually only 25 feet and made of bronze, not gold) and helping Hobo Johnny was way more important than me getting myself on Oprah.

At this stage I have to point out that I cannot divulge the exact magical tricks and life coaching wizardry that I performed on the Truantmeister to drag him out of the gutter and turn him into the fine(ish) upstanding human being you see before you today. After all, if you knew what I knew you’d be me and then where would I go? Needless to say though, they worked.

I don’t want to make this post all about me (actually that’s not completely true. I would love to make it all about me, but I doubt it would get published and that would be a waste), so let you tell me about the man that is normally writing for you.

It would be easy to say, ‘That lucky fucker Truant — he has all sorts of people helping him. I hate his guts and would gladly punch him in the face” I know I have, many times.

I know why he’s such a lucky fucker though, and amazingly enough it’s not because he has a rabbits foot hanging round his neck. The reality is his luck emanates from working his tits off and being prepared to ask for help when he needs it without worrying that he’ll look like a total wuss.

It’s not rocket science as I said to Bob Island the other day. It is common sense, though. Although I’m sure you know what they say about common sense: it’s not that common.

My New York Times best selling book (in my mind) How To Be Rich and Happy tells people to ask for help, because that is what smart people do. Of course 90% of people will laugh in your face, but so what? You just move on to the next person and sooner or later somebody will say yes.

In fact, I’m in the process of trying to raise $1,000,000 to print up copies of How To Be Rich and Happy to give away to people that can’t afford it. Trust me — I need help, and I know most people will say “No.” Actually, that’s not true… they’ll say “Sounds like a great idea Tim, I’ll get back to you” and then vanish off the face of the earth, but it’s effectively the same thing.

Johnny can afford to pay me now, which is ironic seeing as we hardly work together anymore. He has done a truly stunning job of dragging himself up by the boot laces. You can too if you aren’t where you want to be, because you really are good enough.

Don’t fucking argue, you are, and that’s the end of it.

I probably don’t know you, but what I do know is that unless Bob from NASA is reading this, you’re not an island. It’s not rocket science and it’s not only ok to ask for help, it’s uber COOL to ask for help. Because guess what? That’s what the most successful people do. Asking for help is the new black, so just do it. But not from me, I’m full.

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Tim Brownson is absolutely the kind of life coach you want if you’re a cool person and enjoy British accents. If you do nothing else after reading this post, head over and read his goal post and get off your ass and help if you can. This is a man on a mission.