Estranged

I primarily work in sales, a profession predicated on knowledge, control, smiles and cries, honesty, and EGO. Everyone is different, needless to say,  I have to pursue a consistent message but the manner in how I convey my words of wisdom are often altered. The message is delivered differently to a conservative eighty year old ex farmer then it would be if addressing a fourty year old options trader, with a risk tolerance borderlining insanity. After speaking with a hundred people per day, all different, yet all sharing similar motivations, fears, instincts, and desires, it becomes difficult to stay emotionally grounded. At the end of every conversation, there’s a fine line between my bottom line, being revenue and the prospects, also being revenue. If I’m doing my job well, that thin, often tenuous line is clear and uniited. Both you and I are speaking to one another because we essentially speak the same language. We share a longing and connection in our use for the others ability to create wealth, obtain stability, and when it’s said and done, a sale is always made. Either he/she sells me on why it’s a “bad time” or “they’re no longer investing”… or I sell them on why it’s “unfair” that they not have the kind of access/research, to which, I’m offering them!

It’s a chess game, the problem being in how “selling” can lead to selling yourself a believed truth, all too often, affecting the lives of those who are not clients, but possible lovers, potential partners, women wanting my words to match my actions, and all too often, that leaves me incapable of knowing what to say or do, and it leaves others with wounded emotions. I never intend on inflicting loneliness or the feeling of estrangement on anyone. It’s just that I can’t stop from being who I have to be in a moment of honest passion, the operative word being “moment.” I’m trained and I’m damn good at being trelendous when the cameras are rolling, and the lights are shining. When the film runs out or “the director says cut” it’s all too easy to frown, because a woman’s feelings are way more vulnerable and cyclical then then my “bottom line.” The end of the days revenue and my words, spoken in many fashions, every action delivered with the utmost integrity, are pale in mistaking what we do from who we are.Timothy Leeb

Timothy Leeb

@timothy_leeb

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Streets of Atlanta

“I was bruised and battered, I couldnt tell what I felt I was unrecognizable to myself. I couldn’t tell what I felt…Ain’t no angel gonna greet me…” Those are a few lines from the brilliant, poetic Springsteen song: “Streets of Philadelphia.” Bruce was iconic, inspirational to the northern coal workers, blue collar America, a voice resignating to the lost, dismayed, beaten down, and forgotten soldiers. This was all of course, prior to social media, his earlier stuff, was being played on tape and CD’s weren’t even out yet. Needless to say, times were extraordinarily different but the struggles that made Bruce Springsteen such a voice of compassion, such a smooth lyricist, singing songs to the jagged, rough, workers that went to work every day, only to come home to a trajedy of past failures and empty pockets, is now retired and rarely tours anymore. Being a milennial, a witness to today’s rough, jagged times, I see the despondent, desperate actions of those in need of a voice accurately depicting the inequalities affecting citizens in Atlanta. This city has become a hub for music and aspiring musicians and modern day music is for the most part, rap, the expression of life on the streets. Yesterday’s coal workers are today’s drug dealers and hustlers. Out of necessity, this trade has become an expression of the inequalities exposing the disenfranchised. The system capitalizes on the illegal nickle and dime sales and Atlanta’s Fulton County Jail is over 90% black. Where’s the hope for change, where is a talented, yet beaten up product of the system going to escape the violence and pressure to conform? Where can someone exorcise his or her true talents? Our modern day “artists” whom I’ll get to in a moment are few and far inbetween the short lived careers of entertainers, catering to club owners and teenage girls. Oblivious idiots dance in clubs to unfocused, new wave genres of music, while taking ecstasy and bath salts. In reality, this club going, tweeting population of people my age and mainly younger, are missing the main point, which is the lack of any meaningful communication. Believe me when I tell you that there is an even greater struggle out there today and although there are thousands of channels for people to express these pertinent inequalities, what’s going to put food on the table or pay the bills? Selling drugs offers a day to day reprieve from starvation and the misguided hope that it’ll catapult them into JayZ like stardom. I’d say that out of any of the modern inspired day voices, JayZ best illustrates the “struggle” from Marcy projects to selling out stadiums. He freely expresses the will to win despite having to overcome seemingly insurmountable past realities. Just as Springsteen didn’t necesseraly promote a movement of monetary success, his actions along with his words were an instrument for change. He was a reminder of the insurmountable odds plaguing the country’s many “Streets of Philadelphia” residents. JayZ is a modern day reminder of the traumas and tribulations facing a youthful movement of stagnancy. Although, I think Jay best defines realities harsh times, artists like NAS, BIG, Eminem, all “sing for the moment” knowing all too well, tomorrow’s moments could end as it all began.

As a modern day music lover, I find heroism in the words of the great artists and inspiration through the actions of these undervalued humanitarian men. Whether, it’s charity, spending time with today’s youth, producing films meant to uplift and inspire millions, the responsibilities that these artists take on is huge! It’s NOT every one of them, but staying with JayZ, NAS, Eminem, and of course, the one and only Notorious BIG, social responsibility is exuded through the artistsimageir words and actions. So as haters will point to the violence in what these artists “say”, I’ll point to the stories in how they got to where they are as a “reality” indicative of the few, who make it, and what that says about our society. I’ll surely point to the logic behind their often troubled expression of reality because as Springsteen did for blue collar America, the artists that I chose to focus on, point to today’s forgotten, misguided youth and maybe, if more people paid attention to the “message in a bottle” to quote another great, we’d as a society, have a better shot at addressing the many concerns I see facing Atlanta, as well as every other “D Block” part of the country today.

@timothy_leeb

timothy.leeb@leeb.com

Obtaining an Uncluttered Life.

Timothy Leeb, YES, she Loves ME

My name is Timothy Leeb, I’m 31 years old, and have seen it all. In other words, I’ve lived a life, an unsheltered, modern day, Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn odyssey, offering me many periods of prosperity, to desperation and being totally destitute.

Timothy Leeb Timothy Leeb

From growing up in Manhattans upper east side to taking shelter on my friends sofa in Bend Oregon, I’ve learned a great deal about survival and the “Spices of Life” Money is inherently lonely as it always surrounded me with a crowd who’s value as people were predicated on their net worth. Then the inevitable economic theory, being it goes up until it comes down, applied with regards to losing money, which hurt my ego and broke my desire to re-gain my loss. Strangely enough, I always found a way of “making it” no matter what was thrown my way. “Making it” became my goal but…

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Obtaining an Uncluttered Life.

My name is Timothy Leeb, I’m 31 years old, and have seen it all. In other words, I’ve lived a life, an unsheltered, modern day, Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn odyssey, offering me many periods of prosperity, to desperation and being totally destitute.

Timothy Leeb

Timothy Leeb

From growing up in Manhattans upper east side to taking shelter on my friends sofa in Bend Oregon, I’ve learned a great deal about survival and the “Spices of Life” Money is inherently lonely as it always surrounded me with a crowd who’s value as people were predicated on their net worth. Then the inevitable economic theory, being it goes up until it comes down, applied with regards to losing money, which hurt my ego and broke my desire to re-gain my loss. Strangely enough, I always found a way of “making it” no matter what was thrown my way. “Making it” became my goal but the term means nothing without an awareness for what the “it” represents. The Grateful Deads poetic frontman once said, his goal was to live a “uncluttered life.” These words resignated with me because my inner clutter clouded my ability to obtain anything true or worth holding onto. The antithesis of clutter is, in my opinion, free space, which provides the ability to exorcise free will. My will wasn’t money, or having a tremendous number of women. It was sharing “it” all with one person, ready and willing to offer me emotional shelter and in return, achieve peace through my desire to share “it” with her. In clumsy fashion, I stumbled into a relationship with a wonderful woman, soft, yet strong, generous and full of gratitude and inner peace, moving enough, to soften the many misanthropic views I, over time, inherrited. The lense, in which I now view life, is a 180 from how I once saw the world and more specifically, my role in it. A unified desire for success  is meaningful and so money is still a currency that comes and goes, though the manner in how I make “it” now has a more uncluttered half life. The joys and benefits I am afforded don’t dissipate with every change faced through economic  fears, and the faces reflected through turbulent markets, are no longer an instrument of fear, but an opera with many intermissions and movements. In 31 long drawn out years, I finally, “made it” into something worth holding onto. Growth became synonymous with value and together, hand in hand, we continue to move forward, writing our own book. 

Timothy LeebTimothy Leeb

@timothy_leeb

Sweat and Dreams

My most visceral dreams are usually a delayed fantasy about something or someone I desperately want, yet haven’t had the courage or faith to go get. As women of a certain “class”, we’re generally accustomed to having men address our dreams and in turn, we open ourselves up to a more vulnerable part of our inner lives, perhaps bodies. If I’m really being honest, my dream is to have a family, raise children, be a great wife, and stay sexy, while continuing my education and love for learning. Now, if I’m really being completely  honest, my sweaty dreams are what keep me in bed, keep me hot and eager to again, close my eyes, and return to being the Eve to Adams book. Occasionally, sweat and dreams merge and reality feels like a blissful fantasy, normally cut off way too soon for my satisfaction. So although my heavy breathing and perspiration tend to be a sole adventure, I’m blessed with regards to having a brain active enough to still make fun of my heart. 

So many women in today’s society no longer dream as their inherited beauty became a dried up, deadened inability to feel and through years of treasured travels, wet beaches, all too nude for even my wildest of dreams, the princess feels too young to be hooked on tranquilizers and too old too be so unhappy. It’s said that suicide is statistically reserved for the “super rich”. I’m happy and grateful for still wanting, wishing, even wallowing n what I want SO badly. The day I can no longer distinguish between what’s salty and sunny, ready to get wet, and cool off, becomes the moment I look back with regret for who I once was.

Hello world! My name is Michelle Sexton and I have been primarily following a “crush” by the name Mr. Timothy Leeb. This blog is for tennis lovers but primarily, for open dialogue designed to support Mr. Leeb, who I grew up with and always admired his awesome tennis game. If it’s sport, finance, social criteria or a taboo topic feel free to speak your mind.

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