Whenever we start a new relationship with someone, there’s always one piece of baggage that comes out before the others. Maybe it’s a religious preference (or the lack of one). Maybe it’s a dietary restriction. Maybe it’s a hobby, or a middle name, or a past job. This tiny piece of what we are as people, which seems so inconsequential to us becomes something pivotal to others. But it’s impossible to predict what that thing is; it’s different for different people.
One of the ladies at my office doesn’t eat anything that contains dairy. She isn’t lactose-intolerant; she just chooses to abstain from consuming anything made of milk. So on occasion, when there’s pizza or sandwiches or (most) baked goods around, it comes up. Someone who isn’t aware of it asks her why she’s not eating, and it invariably goes to a long conversation that seems like she’s at a bar and they’re asking her why she doesn’t drink. And there’s nothing wrong with her choice – though we do tease her a bit about taking milk shots and wonder how she can pass up ice cream – it’s just a part of who she is.
When I was in college, my baggage was all based on my religion. Most of the people at the university had never seen or met a Jewish person before, leading to the typical unintentional comment of, “You’re Jewish? I had no idea! You look so normal!” This would eventually turn into a 30-minute Q-and-A session where they asked about everything from circumcisions, bar mitzvahs, kosher rules and regulations, yarmulkes, and something vague involving Jesus.
The baggage acts as a distinguishing feature for people attach to you immediately, defining you in a single dimension that encompasses you in just a phrase. While this might be done initially as a way of remembering who you are, they can let the baggage become your dominant character trait, finding it in places where it isn’t there. To acquaintances and those who barely know you, you can be nothing more than that single dimension.
We all want to think of ourselves as being multi-faceted, complex, interesting people. And while we hope that our self-images extend into what others think of us, that isn’t always the case. It can stick, long after it’s worn out its welcome. It trails just a little behind, like a stray dog, on the periphery of our social senses. There’s no way to get rid of the baggage. After all, it’s a part of us.
Some people run as far away from the baggage as they can, denying it angrily, lashing out in an attempt to separate from it. Others embrace it as a label, or as a stepping stone towards developing deeper relationships. But the truth is, the baggage is neither a curse or a blessing. It’s a shorthand description, a quick summary for those taking just a glance. It’s just something we live with, bringing it along wherever we go.
People will define you in different ways. You won’t always be able to control how, when, or why. And you may not be able to change those definitions. But don’t worry about the baggage. The traveler is much more interesting.



Long-time readers will recall that on a few past occasions, I’ve mentioned my history in the dance music world. It’s an interesting place to visit, full of colorful characters, although one’s definition of “colorful” might not always go with similar terms, like “sane” or “sober” or “logical.”




You remember that kid who was picking his nose in class when you were in high school? Or what about the girl who didn’t brush her teeth? Do you work with someone whose work day seems to rotate around sending you stupid Internet videos? What about that dude at the gym who screams every time he does a rep at the bench press?
Let’s be honest here: personal branding is often anything but. People will use facades, deceit, and selective messaging to put their best foot forward – and in the case of this metaphor, they’re not even using their own shoes. But regardless of how one uses their personal brand, it’s far more critical to manage it properly. Here are five common mistakes that can destroy an (in)credible brand in next to no time:








