Nobody told this to you about shortcuts...

…But there are no shortcuts.

Got you all hot and sweaty to dump you like a bag of worthless meme coins. Sorry. (I've purchased worthless meme coins more times than I can remember)

Everyone wants the hack. The cheat code. The secret sauce that successful people supposedly hide from the rest of us in their million billion-dollar vaults.

I get it. I've been there, googling "How to learn guitar in 2 weeks" while my guitar collects dust in the corner. I could have started a band and retired if I just played instead of looking for the quickest way to play.

We're all looking for that magic pill. And we know there's none, but somehow, we think we'll stumble upon Atlantis when no one else has succeeded. We spend 40 hours watching productivity gurus on YouTube when we could've spent those 40 hours actually doing something. Anything.

Let's take something silly like Instagram.

Let’s say your feed is probably a highlight reel of perfect shots from Bali or the Maldives, or any place in the world that makes you feel like you’re living in shit. And let's be honest—it hits you with that cocktail of feelings: jealousy, desperation, and that special kind of depression that comes from watching others living their best life while you're deciding between takeout or instant regret.

Reality check: Nobody posts the mad airport scramble, the layovers from hell, or the AirBnB that looked nothing like the photos. That sunset shot that looks like Michelangelo decided to take a break from heaven? It probably took two hours of walking around to find the best angle, a gazillion takes, and a phone battery screaming for CPR.

And let’s not get into those 'candid' shots? About as candid as a political campaign photo.

How about those lovely food posts that make you go, "Wow, wish I could cook like that"?

You can. But first, you have to burn some stuff. Like, really burn it. I'm talking about food so bad it could be used to resurface roads. But that's how it goes. You burn things, you learn things, you get better.

Speaking of things that make me want to bang my head against a wall—people telling me they "need" a new job.

Really? Because I just told you my friend's company is hiring, and you haven't even dusted off your CV from 2019. That's not "need." That's just liking the idea of a new job. I've given you the blueprint for networking on LinkedIn, yet a week later, your profile still shows your headshot from high school. Unless you’re Benjamin Button or Pharrell, change the damn photo.

This dream job isn’t Liam Neeson from Taken. It will not find you and hire you.

Everyone thinks Taylor Swift got lucky. But while other 13-year-olds were hanging out at the mall choosing their next Claire's accessory, she wrote songs. Every. Single. Day. For years. The "overnight" part of her success took a decade.

Here's the real joke: People are selling you shortcuts, and they're working their butts off to convince you that you don't have to work. The irony is thicker than my favorite protein shake—a delish concoction of dates, banana, avocado how much ever I feel like peanut butter, an armful of nuts, almond milk, a handful of dark chocolate, and some sweet potato if it happens to be lying around.

Yes, that's a real recipe. No, I won't apologize for it.

The truth? The time you spend looking for shortcuts is usually longer than the time it would take just to do the damn thing.

Want to get fit? You already know how. Move more. Eat better. Sleep enough. No magic pill required.

Want to write? Write badly until you write better.

Want a new job? Apply until your fingers hurt and LinkedIn thinks you're a bot. But don’t get suspended.

Want to cook? Make food so bad that even your mom won't eat it, until one day, your family starts begging. From “no please” to “more please.”

No guru, app, or course will do the work for you. They can show you the way, sure. But you still gotta walk it. Or run it. Or crawl it. Whatever works.

The good news? Or, for some, the bad news…work actually works. Always has. Always will.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to practice what I preach and finally dust off that guitar. Maybe by 2030, I'll know more than three chords.

Remember this about shortcuts: they’re the longest time wasted looking for the shortest way to your outcome.