I’ve worked hard over the past two years to change my image. I used to dumb myself down, play my looks up. It was easier that way. I didn’t have to buy any drinks in college, for instance. That was my brand, an image that wasn’t who I was or wanted to be. But it worked, so I kept on.

Until my boyfriend told me I wasn’t interesting enough. Until I came home from a meeting one day, furious for not speaking my mind. Until I had one scary frickin’ visit to the ER. Yeah, those life-threatening events, they’ll get you every time.

I sat down to think about who I really was, proceeded to have a quarter-life crisis, and made some tough decisions. They weren’t decisions that were visible. I didn’t quit my job, or become celibate, or move across the country to pursue reality television. But I did slowly, painfully, change and start to brand myself differently.

Personal branding is your personality, who you are as an individual and “the sum of other brands that you either own, work for or touch in some distinct way.” It’s about being you, and marketing the heck out of it.

You, who is reliably manipulative, can’t make a commitment if your life depended on it, and won’t go to bed until you clear the next level in your video game. You, who is only working until you have a baby, hopefully two, so you can stay at home and take care of your family. You, who works eighty hours a week and must separate your jelly beans into color-respective piles before eating.

Branding is marketing those very gems of your personality. That’s not hard to do. Just be yourself. If you’re acting like someone you’re not, then it will come back to haunt you, like when the infatuation wears off in a relationship, and it is at that moment your girlfriend finds your box of hair-regeneration pills in your underwear drawer. Whoever you are, it’s really hard to change, so you win by just being you from the start.

And sometimes, inevitably, you lose. Like this guy.

Branding is inextricably linked to accountability. If you do a good enough job of marketing yourself a certain way, people will start to believe you. So much so that when you mess up, or step out of your brand, it will make others uncomfortable.

I wouldn’t worry too much about this. Instead, focus on how you define accountability and your own comfort level with your actions.

Our lives are out in the open for all to see. Who you are at your job is who you are at the bar is who you are at the gym is who you are during sex is who you are at the company picnic is who you are at, well, you get the idea. Politicians do cheat on their wives. CEOs are bad parents. Artists are erratic friends. So, what? They’re good at their passions, and at the end of the day, we’re all doing the best we can in the circumstances given.

Your image reflects on your company, friends, and family. You, however, need to be accountable to yourself first. If you’re dancing on the tables at the bar, and worried about getting caught, either you have something personally wrong, or you need to find a different job that accepts your lack of inhibition. If your Facebook photos might get you in trouble, take them down, or decide you want to work at a place where they don’t care about that sort of thing.

The lines between work and play are increasingly blurring, and if you’re one person during the day and a different one at night you have to be proud enough to market the heck out of it. If you’re not comfortable, you need to learn more about who you are. You are in control of your brand.

My mother used to tell me, “Remember who you are,” whenever I left the house. People with integrity and confidence don’t worry about “getting caught,” because they know who they are. They know that dancing on tables is acceptable to them, or that their Facebook pictures show another layer of their onion. And if it’s not okay to them, they act accordingly.

In summary, to rock the branding/accountability boat:

1. Know yourself.
2. Be yourself.
3. Love it.
4. Repeat.

By the way, I still enjoy receiving free drinks, because I’ve realized I’m okay with using my looks… Sometimes.

Be yourself, or perish, yo.

Oh, crap.

My adrenaline starts to pump and the anticipation in my stomach rises so quickly that a little laughter escapes. But at 10:03 pm on Monday, the 22nd this is a bad time to laugh.

I yell to my boss Mark, “Tech Crunch just published!”

“What?” he yells back.

I run into his office, “Tech Crunch just published their post!” The rest of the sentence, that they published an hour early, an hour before they were supposed to, an hour before the embargo lifted and we were going to launch the site doesn’t need to be said. Hundreds of people are already on the site. Are we ready? I’m not ready! I thought we had an hour.

Around me, I feel like everyone is running and rushing. Mark and Brian meet instantly and make a split-second decision.

“We’re going live!” Brian exclaims. “Right now! Go! Go! Go!”

He sweeps through the office as excitement sweeps through our fingers. It’s bad that Tech Crunch published early, but their article is good. I’m shaking a little and smiling. Mashable emails me. They have to publish their article now too and I tell them it’s okay. We’re turning on the site now. We’re opening the doors. It’s starting. Alice.com is launching in beta.

The rest of the night is quick, blurry, surreal. When new press comes out, we yell, “CNET is up!” “Business Week!” “Financial Times!” and I throw the links onto Yammer. I refresh my screen every few minutes to watch the bar on the new customer graph rise. I work more than seventeen hours, my co-workers even more, and none of us really notice.

Some of the developers bring sleeping bags, the customer service girls bring a blow-up mattress, and the rest plan to sleep under their desks. At Alice, each employee is assigned an animal. I am a crane, which means, in part, that I’m particular. I want my own bed, so I drive home in the middle of the night.

The highway is completely empty, black and shiny. I own it. The asphalt, everything beneath and all the buildings lined up along on the side are mine. No other cars or people or lumbering trucks. I drive fast because I’m tired, and I want to sleep, and I want to get up and do it all over again.

Considering my co-workers only got two or three hours of sleep, I know they feel the same. The Alice team is more than dedicated, more than hard-working. This is the start-up life, our life.

There’s a lot of talk about balance. Some of the most popular authors preach zen-like attitudes, getting out of work, and lifestyles that are built on, well, not a whole lot. And then there are those who talk about sacrificing your health for your start-up, who talk in terms of not just passion, but obsession for your profession, and whose idea of fun is innumerable hours spent on a single idea.

Fighting balance across the fence is blur. And that is where I live. A life that should preclude me from having any sort of relationship with anybody or anything other than work, but in reality, betters those relationships. A place that makes me excited to be young and in love and working hard.

Peace, it seems, can not only be discovered in the quiet pauses of life, but also in the often forceful and uncertain flow that rushes against walls and norms and status quo.

Fancy Work.

I want to respond to the latest post at Employee Evolution, as I’ve done in the past here. This time, Ryan Healy writes on ways your family can help you with your career. Here’s my take:

I didn’t grow up in upper or middle class, nor did I grow up in poverty.

But a large part of my childhood was being raised in the ghetto of my town by my single mother. People are incredulous when I tell them this.

“Do you even know what the ghetto is, Rebecca?” they ask.

My babysitter acted as my second mother and the neighborhood protector. While my mother worked, my babysitter was the character standing on the corner of her lawn, yelling like a madwoman at the drug dealers to “get the f&*k away” from her street. After one such declaration, I remember thinking that they were going to shoot her. Dead. Then and there. But she was tough. The dealers were afraid of her.

My mother did end up moving us to a decidedly middle class neighborhood as soon as she could, but what I learned from my old neighborhood stuck with me.

The point being that I’m intensely proud of my background, but it wasn’t financially affluent.

So I would never say to my boss, “I live with my parents. I don’t need this job.”

Because I’ve been working from the time I was able, and trust me, I do need this job.

I understand that much of our generation grew up middle class, if not upper middle class. That’s a good thing. If you have the connections, privileges, and opportunities, you should use them. Take full advantage of the help that is available to you.

But we all need to be more grateful of what we have. And we need to realize that not all of us have parents and parent’s friends who can help finance our new company, lifestyle, or potential unemployment.

In my world, performance reviews aren’t based off of your connections or your financial stability. They’re based off of your work and your credentials. But we don’t live in my world. We live in the real world. In the real world, who you know and how much money you have are negotiating gems.

It’s good that you can get ahead by building relationships. This is something you have control of.

It’s not so good that you can get ahead with money if you don’t have any. But this is the reality. If you have the privilege of being able to leave a company that refuses to give you additional responsibility as in Ryan’s example, do so. Grow up. Stop whining. And then move out of your parent’s house.

If you can’t risk losing your job, however, but want more challenge at the workplace, pat yourself on the back. Courage should be rewarded.

Then get creative. Think about how you can take on more work even if the employer isn’t helping you do it. It’s rare that you won’t be able to find more to do.

Maybe it’s related directly to what you’re doing now. Or maybe you start a group of co-workers to green the workplace practices of your employer. Or you develop a set of best practices for your peers. Or you could develop and manage an informal mentoring program within the company. You define your success. True fulfillment isn’t created by your employer, anyway. It’s created when you push yourself.

And most importantly, be proud of your background. Realize that it actually puts you ahead of some of your prosperous peers who don’t have to worry about the rent, or the power bill, or budgeting groceries. Some of the most successful people I know are those who have experienced a large amount of adversity. This doesn’t surprise me. Because when you hit bottom, you only have two choices. Stay there or get up. And when you haven’t hit bottom, you don’t have the same appetite to succeed. Adversity is your ally.

Career backgrounder.

I’ve worked hard over the past two years to change my image. I used to dumb myself down, play my looks up. It was easier that way. I didn’t have to buy any drinks in college, for instance. That was my brand, an image that wasn’t who I was or wanted to be. But it worked, so I kept on.

Until my boyfriend told me I wasn’t interesting enough. Until I came home from a meeting one day, furious for not speaking my mind. Until I had one scary frickin’ visit to the ER. Yeah, those life-threatening events, they’ll get you every time.

I sat down to think about who I really was, proceeded to have a quarter-life crisis, and made some tough decisions. They weren’t decisions that were visible. I didn’t quit my job, or become celibate, or move across the country to pursue reality television. But I did slowly, painfully, change and start to brand myself differently.

Personal branding is your personality, who you are as an individual and “the sum of other brands that you either own, work for or touch in some distinct way.” It’s about being you, and marketing the heck out of it.

You, who is reliably manipulative, can’t make a commitment if your life depended on it, and won’t go to bed until you clear the next level in your video game. You, who is only working until you have a baby, hopefully two, so you can stay at home and take care of your family. You, who works eighty hours a week and must separate your jelly beans into color-respective piles before eating.

Branding is marketing those very gems of your personality. That’s not hard to do. Just be yourself. If you’re acting like someone you’re not, then it will come back to haunt you, like when the infatuation wears off in a relationship, and it is at that moment your girlfriend finds your box of hair-regeneration pills in your underwear drawer. Whoever you are, it’s really hard to change, so you win by just being you from the start.

And sometimes, inevitably, you lose. Like this guy.

Branding is inextricably linked to accountability. If you do a good enough job of marketing yourself a certain way, people will start to believe you. So much so that when you mess up, or step out of your brand, it will make others uncomfortable.

I wouldn’t worry too much about this. Instead, focus on how you define accountability and your own comfort level with your actions.

Our lives are out in the open for all to see. Who you are at your job is who you are at the bar is who you are at the gym is who you are during sex is who you are at the company picnic is who you are at, well, you get the idea. Politicians do cheat on their wives. CEOs are bad parents. Artists are erratic friends. So, what? They’re good at their passions, and at the end of the day, we’re all doing the best we can in the circumstances given.

Your image reflects on your company, friends, and family. You, however, need to be accountable to yourself first. If you’re dancing on the tables at the bar, and worried about getting caught, either you have something personally wrong, or you need to find a different job that accepts your lack of inhibition. If your Facebook photos might get you in trouble, take them down, or decide you want to work at a place where they don’t care about that sort of thing.

The lines between work and play are increasingly blurring, and if you’re one person during the day and a different one at night you have to be proud enough to market the heck out of it. If you’re not comfortable, you need to learn more about who you are. You are in control of your brand.

My mother used to tell me, “Remember who you are,” whenever I left the house. People with integrity and confidence don’t worry about “getting caught,” because they know who they are. They know that dancing on tables is acceptable to them, or that their Facebook pictures show another layer of their onion. And if it’s not okay to them, they act accordingly.

In summary, to rock the branding/accountability boat:

1. Know yourself.
2. Be yourself.
3. Love it.
4. Repeat.

By the way, I still enjoy receiving free drinks, because I’ve realized I’m okay with using my looks… Sometimes.

Be yourself, or perish, yo.

“What did you do today?”

I cried like a druggie in rehab pleading with God and my dead father to help me. Also, I slept. Tried to sleep. To ignore. To escape. Between sleeping and crying, I tried to be normal.

“Nothing much, I ran some errands,” I replied on a Saturday night out at the bar, trying to be normal. Going out with friends for the first time in a long time. Friends that were good enough to forget that I ignored them for the past eight months. Because that’s what happens when I’m in a relationship.

Everyone likes me better when I’m single. If you lined up the town and asked them to raise their hands when they saw a cool person, and then presented Me, In a Relationship and Me, Single, the hands would most assuredly go up the second round, and I would raise my hand in line with the rest. I’m not good in a relationship. Perhaps because I don’t think I am, and perhaps because it never really mattered before now. Because when you date assholes, you can be a bitch right back. So dating a good guy is a complete shock in terms of how to act and how to behave and how to live.

So of course you push this cool person down the same worn-in path as before, and as you go, you look around and know that the two of you don’t belong there.

And I am angry that the Universe could present me with such a being when I’m not primed. I’m not prepared.

It’s not that I don’t feel worthy, exactly. But that I never saw myself with someone so all-American, so normal, so right. Because my life was messed up the moment my father died, and surely God doesn’t think I’m ready for a life that isn’t messed up. Surely, I should keep punishing myself. I am not ready for such greatness. Surely, I am not ready to lead a normal life yet, with barbeques and endless cuddling and television. Life is jaded. Always and forever. This will never heal.

Being single, it doesn’t matter. But being in a relationship – the good kind, at least – brings all this other responsibility. And I don’t really care for all that. To care about someone so deeply and they just might up and leave, or want you, or die, or get sick, or let you down, or need you, or care about you back. I get anxious. So anxious I can’t breathe.

Okay, so I have issues. The kind that should be capitalized and underlined, and you should take note of it.

But I’m working on that, and back to Saturday night, I declared that it was the beginning of “New Rebecca!” exclamation point, let’s take another shot, done and done. I was fabulous. I smiled and was totally level-headed and ingratiated myself back to the good side of the Universe through two hipster bars, three slices of bacon, spinach and yellow-tomato pizza, and a pair of four-inch heels. Cue the soundtrack as the shot pans up and fades out. Walk out of the theater with a happy ending. It was fun and I laughed.

Sunday morning, I got up and cleaned the wine bottles from the counter, threw away someone else’s cigarettes, and vacuumed the dirt from the corner. And somewhere in between, I found a little bit of normal.

Common Sense.