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C.J. Cascicotta - Get Weird: Stop Fitting In. Start Standing Out.

Here you can read online C.J. Cascicotta - Get Weird: Stop Fitting In. Start Standing Out. full text of the book (entire story) in english for free. Download pdf and epub, get meaning, cover and reviews about this ebook. year: 2018, publisher: FaithWords, genre: Religion. Description of the work, (preface) as well as reviews are available. Best literature library LitArk.com created for fans of good reading and offers a wide selection of genres:

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C.J. Cascicotta Get Weird: Stop Fitting In. Start Standing Out.
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Get Weird: Stop Fitting In. Start Standing Out.: summary, description and annotation

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Sadly, most of us grow up believing its more important to fit in than to stand out. But theres something different about you... and it matters.
What if your weirdness was the key to changing everything? What if the outrageous, imaginative, crazy ideas that live inside your wildest dreams are actually there on purpose, divinely pre-installed to help others?
Knowing what makes you weird is the best thing you can offer your art, your business, your friends, your family, and yourself. Its the essence of creativity, the stuff of movements, and the hope for humanity.
Armed with the wit of a native New Yorker, whimsical anecdotes, and cultural insights, CJ Casciotta pens a manifesto for the oddball in all of us, one that will help you discover the surprising secret to making a difference.
Its time to quit painting by numbers, conforming to patterns, and checking off boxes. Its time to GET WEIRD.

C.J. Cascicotta: author's other books


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Copyright 2018 by CJ Casciotta Productions Inc Cover design by Jody Waldrup - photo 1

Copyright 2018 by CJ Casciotta Productions Inc.
Cover design by Jody Waldrup
Cover illustration by alxndr jones
Cover copyright 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the authors intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the authors rights.

FaithWords
Hachette Book Group
1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104
faithwords.com
twitter.com/faithwords

First Edition: September 2018

FaithWords is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The FaithWords name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call
(866) 376-6591.

Illustrations on pages by CJ Casciotta 2018 by CJ Casciotta Productions Inc. All other illustrations 2018 alxndr jones. avintagethought.com.

Unless otherwise noted scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version , NIV . 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc. TM

Scripture quotations marked ( ESV ) are taken from the ESV Bible (the Holy Bible, English Standard Version ), copyright 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked ( MSG ) are taken from The Message. 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018944026

ISBN: 978-1-5460-3191-8 (trade paperback), 978-1-5460-3190-1 (ebook)

E3-20180713-DA-NF

For Selah.

Go down the slides.

I was sitting alone at a pub in New York City doodling some thoughts in a cup ringstained notebook. The sidewalks outside were covered with the thinnest layer of snow, as if indecisive raindrops had changed their minds just before hitting the ground. I had come to New York to pitch a proposal that wouldnt pan out. Just a few months earlier, Id been here to produce an event that would end up a complete disasterone that would leave me riding back to my hotel on the subway repeating the line, If I can make it here Ill make it anywhere over and over in my head like some ironic, taunting joke.

Sitting there with my notebook under a blanket of white noise, a combination of clinking glasses and muffled conversations all orbiting my restless and weary brain, I wrote down a word that had never really presented itself to me with the significance it did in that moment.

Weird.

I was trying to make sense of my life and why every turn of events had seemed like entering a short hallway that led to a solid brick wall. I was a creative jack-of-all-trades, making a living on the rocky outskirts of a cubicle, helping companies with their communications and producing media for their campaigns, all the while trying to conjure up a few creative ventures of my own.

I knew what I was good at. I approached everything as a writer, a poet who believed there was such a thing as a soul, something divinely preinstalled, the source of peoples greatest needs and longings.

A hippie prophet once told me my purpose in life was to connect people to the person they are becoming. That was enough explanation for me, but a bit esoteric for a sales pitch, to say the least.

As I sat there hunched over a high-top table in my own dark little corner of Hells Kitchen, I started thinking about the heroes of my childhood, guys like Jim Henson, Walt Disney, and Mister Rogers, the misfits and make-believers who had shaped my dream to one day make things half as good as they. I realized I was nowhere close, mostly because I hadnt even tried.

I glanced back down at that word weird again.

It started to come into razor-sharp focus.

I help people discover what makes them weird in a sea of sameness.

It was the heartbeat of how I had been helping companies. It was the character trait that linked all my heroes. It was the essence of all my fledgling creative projects. It was where I wanted to go in the future, a vision of helping as many people as possible, no matter their shape, size, or circumstance, understand whats unique about themselves and each other.

But wait a minute.

I peered down at the word again, this time staring at it until it blurred. Weird. I turned my head and noticed the crowd of drinkers around me, some on their first date, some undoubtedly on their last, some who had wandered in with the same restlessness I had, and others celebrating another sleepless night in a city that famously encourages every one of them.

I wasnt weird. I mowed my own lawn. I made dad jokes. I bought clothes with the precise purpose of fitting whatever wayward trend pop culture seemed to require at the moment. Who was I to assume this mantle of weirdness?

I flipped through my notebook, noticing all the doodles of monsters and imaginary creatures, scanning the random thoughts and poems I had always reassured myself were for some other time.

Maybe it was time to get weird. Maybe it was time to reconnect with the sacred self my soul was busy scribbling in my notebooks. Maybe it was time to step off the safe and secure shores of Same and realize their promise was an empty one.

I had spent the past several years studying movementshow they start, grow, and create a sense of belonging among their followers, converting others along the way. I began sketching out in my notebook everything I had learned about how movements form, from Christianity to democracy to abolition, trying to distill it to its simplest form.

The through-line? You guessed it. All movements start off weird.

A stiff shot of clarity began to dance its way through my bloodstream. A distant passion drew closer and climbed into my nostrils like divine breath being blown into Adam. I was new again. Awake. Curious. Vital. If someone had taken notice of the disheveled, rigid man who walked into the bar, they would have wondered where he went and why a child was now sauntering out past a bewildered bouncer.

The subway sang a triumphant call as it pushed into the station. The doors flung open, offering a soundtrack to my personal renaissance. I didnt need to make it here. I had everything I needed.

I was weird. Everyone was. And I had to tell them.

Its strange to be here The mystery never leaves you alone John ODonohue T - photo 2

Its strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone.

John ODonohue

T heres something different about you. Since the moment you arrived on planet Earth, youve been carrying a unique combination of matter and spirit no one else in human history could duplicate. And ever since that moment, youve been told to ignore it.

I remember when my daughter was born. Shortly after taking her home from the hospital I was tasked with the duty of going to the local drugstore to pick up an extra package of diapers. I carried this out with both a deep sense of pride and bewilderment, as I imagined the young boys of World War II mustve felt right before going into battle. Except I wasnt carrying a gun or wearing a uniformjust a debit card and a pair of skinny jeans along with an old Yankees cap I hadnt taken off since the first night in the hospital. Still, this was as close as I was going to get to those glory days when real men, like my grandfather, did brave things. The fantasy was holding up.

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