My idea for this blog post was inspired by the fact that not too long ago I had a not-so-great week. At first, it made me feel like I was doing something wrong, but then I talked it over with a few loved ones that I trust the most, and I had an enlightened perspective on everything. Failure is the best teacher I've ever had. Accomplishing something is great and all, but it's a ray of hope rather than the guaranteed result. You can spend hours sitting in a classroom, and learn something, but the most life altering lessons, especially for creative people happen while falling flat on your face, and making a fool of yourself. Unfortunately, there are people out there who never get to fail miserably. Their path is chosen for them early on in their life, and they never have to fight for what they want the most. I've met people like that. Watching them fail for the first time is a terrifying experience. They look as if they're seconds away from curling up in the fetal position. Failure is part of life, and exposing people to it is the best thing you can possibly do for them. Nobody wants to fail, but what people don't realize is that failure has its intrinsic value. Not only is it a learning experience, but it also makes us all significantly smarter and stronger. The older I get, the more I start to realize that approximately 80 or 90 percent of the people I admire have a powerful, relatable backstory that begins with epic failure. What separates them from people who wallow in failure, and let it define them is the fact that they turn it into something worthwhile. Another important factor is people. We've got to learn how to filter out the toxic ones, and surround ourselves only with people that heighten creativity while inspiring us to be our best possible selves. That's something that I'm still working on, and it's not an easy one to accomplish. We all have bad days, and I'm starting to think that bad days have a purpose. For instance, every time I have a not-so-great day I realize who my worthwhile confidants really are. Why? Because they always show their faces, or at least, try to reach out to me.