So my online evolution has been an interesting one.

Think about it: I used to be a straight humor blogger. Then, I became a humorous business/tech blogger, and then I became a humorous business/tech entrepreneurial blogger with services and coaching and everything. But now I’m taking it a step further. Now, I have a chance to be black.

I’m sitting at my computer the other day when I get that bong thing that lets me know that new email has arrived and it’s Twply, telling me that someone has given me an @ mention on Twitter. (If this is Greek to you, you need to sign up for Twitter because you’re out of touch and will soon grow an oblivious unibrow.) I open up the new message, and I see this:

Oh, cool.

I’ve never been black before. Not even for a little bit, like how Tyra Banks was fat for a little bit when she wore that fat suit in public, and was shocked that everyone stared at her because she looked like some crazy broad wearing artificial fat pads. I’m into trying it. I’m not looking forward to the discrimination, but I am looking forward to 1) comedy clubs and 2) church. And also being able to dance well and dunk a basketball, and to no longer fighting my white person’s urge to wear black socks with shorts and listen to Conway Twitty.

Pretty soon, someone will become the Chinese Truant. And the Polish Truant. I kind of have a Jewish Truant lined up, assuming he can stop saying “Oy” after he says “Awesome” because to be honest, it ruins the vibe. I wanted to have a female Truant, but I’m not ready for that yet because I kept grabbing my boobs.

I’ll be everywhere. And then I’ll make some changes, dammit. This National GOYA Month thing I’m doing? It’ll be really effective once we’re a Truant Planet. I think that a lot of you out there are still sitting on your asses instead of getting off of them. I think you may currently be mentally inspired instead of full-body inspired.

That’s right. I’m on to you slackers. And frankly, I won’t have that kind of crap on my planet. Once we Truants are everywhere, we’ll institute a few new rules around here.

• On the Truant Planet, everyone will be awesome to each other and not discriminate, even if a person has a dick growing out of his forehead.

• On the Truant Planet, no balding people will be allowed to do a combover.

• And yes, on the Truant Planet, people will be liberated. They won’t sit in cubes all day, wasting their every nine-to-five typing reports and playing Minesweeper. We’ll do what we want with our lives.

Because — and this is key — we’ll all be willing to get off of our asses. We’ll be willing to commit to something.

That’s the kind of world I want to live in — the kind of world where a person says one thing and does… that thing. Where a person gets determined and… does what he or she determined to do.

So now, I’m talking directly to you. Yes, you.

Oh resident of the Truant Planet who claims to be getting off of his or her ass: Have you fully, truly committed to doing what you said you’d do this month? Or are your dreams of freedom and prosperity just big old retarded dreams?

Commitment means deciding, in the sense that you pick a path and cut off all of the alternative paths. Commitment means driving stakes into the sand and putting your money where your mouth is. And if you’re literally putting down cold, hard cash to commit yourself? It hardly matters what you’ve actually done with that cash. You could burn it. What’s important is that you’ve created a price of admission to your goal. This way, you’ll know that wimping out equates to burning that money for nothing. You’ll know that you chose to make that money meaningless by being a big quitting pussy.

You’ve heard the story of Cortés, right? When his ships landed in the New World, he ordered that those ships be burned, so that there could be no turning back.

See also: Burning bridges.

Now, that one’s usually given as a negative. People tell you not to burn bridges so that you’ll have a way out. But what if you quit your job and then did what Homer Simpson did, driving around in a golf cart and playing your boss’s head like a bongo? Would you ever be able to go back to that job? Nope. You’d have to succeed, or die trying.

Now, I’m not suggesting anyone do that, because of the whole “… or die trying” part. Personally, I’d suggest a less lethal form of commitment.

Maybe you tell everyone you know about your new venture, or you tell them that you’re going to quit smoking. Maybe you tell them that you’ll do something embarrassing if you don’t follow through, and tell them to hold you to it.

Maybe, if you’re trying to lose weight, you burn all of your fat clothes.

Maybe, if you’re starting a business, you hire a coach. I have one. Now, why do I pay Tim to coach me? Well, for one, he’s helping me. But even if he wasn’t, I know that every time we talk, he’s going to ask me about my progress. I’m paying him to give me ideas, and I’m just flushing that money down the shitter if I ignore those ideas.

I also bought Online Business School. That was not at all cheap, but it was my way of saying, “FUCKER, I’M GOING TO DO THIS.” Because why would I spend that much if I wasn’t? You know you’re committed if you make an investment that big.

(Now, to date, that commitment has made me close to ten thousand dollars. So I’m cool with the expense.)

I was in Spain, during college, with my roommate at the time — a guy named Marc. While we were traveling, my sunglasses broke. Marc had a pair of top-end Oakleys, which totally wasn’t my thing. He told me that I should buy this one $250 pair of Ray Ban sunglasses to replace my old $10 pair.

I told him that I never bought expensive sunglasses because I never took care of them.

And he said, “You need to get the expensive ones so that you WILL take care of them.”

That was over ten years ago. To this day, those sunglasses don’t have a scratch on them.

Look. This is GOYA month. And this is the Truant Planet. We Truants are everywhere, hiding, just like in Fight Club. (The book, not the movie. Come on, people.) You don’t want to be the one remaining lame-o who isn’t as cool as the rest of us.

Commit to your goals. Do something big. Don’t be stupid about it, but plant your flag for once. And forget about the fucking “money where your mouth is” thing for a second, because I don’t want you thinking this is a sales pitch. Yes, I offer coaching, and yes, I would very much like if you’d hire me. Yes, I have a big new product coming out in a few weeks, and yes, I hope you’ll buy it because it’s going to be so kick-ass. But you don’t have to do any of that.

This isn’t about money. It’s about commitment.

Do something. Burn a fucking ship. Tell the world. Get the expensive sunglasses.

If you commit, yes, you might fail. But if you don’t commit, you’re almost certain to fail. And if you fail without committing, you’ll be a big wimp for not really trying.

If you have a dream, commit to it. If you aren’t willing to commit, then stop pretending that you may actually get it some day. Just admit it’s nothing more than a fancy, and stop calling it a goal. Seriously. You’re embarrassing yourself.

That’s my vision of a Truant Planet. And dammit, it’s a good one.

(Oh, and 911 is a joke.)