There are days when it all just makes sense. Today was one of those days.

We started off the day by heading to a rural part of Tennessee to interview a goat farmer, who, after fifteen years of accounting, just wanted to find something where she could be outside. Zach and I toured the farm, seeing as many as sixty goats, but none caught our eye more the fainting goat. The fainting goat actually faints, although the babies do not. The adults freeze up because of a sudden boost of adrenaline caused by fear. So when the Puppy (aka Zach) wildly chased a goat, it was no surprise that the goat helplessly fell to the dirt with legs stretched skyward.

Back in the city after our country experience, our next interview was with an articulate, environmentally conscious entrepreneur, who at twenty-seven year, just moved to Nashville from L.A. with his banjo playing fiancé. With eyes as green as his cause, this first time entrepreneur and former male model explained how he planned to put “sexy” into the worldwide green movement through the means of bamboo underwear. In stage one and a quarter of his business plan, his company will be called “Bambooty.”

Over beers that night we interviewed Chris Pandolfi, a banjo player with the Infamous Stringdusters bluegrass band. The Stringdusters have recently received worldwide recognition, taking home three IBMA awards this week in Nashville. Now 28, Chris has been playing the banjo since he enrolled in Dartmouth for environmental studies several years ago.

The thing that interested me the most about the interview with Chris was that when asked “what would be the one thing he would tell his twenty-three year old self,” he thoughtfully replied that he would like to hear what the younger Chris would have to tell him today. The reason for the answer was that the younger Chris played the banjo for fun. Today’s Chris plays professionally. With the territory has come pressure. Pressure to perform. To live up to expectations. To deliver. It’s a completely different feeling Chris derives from playing now compared to ten years ago, so much so that he has begun to play the drums on the side to regain the innocent sensation he once had when he first picked the strings of the banjo.

The number one answer interviewees respond with when asked the question we posed to Chris is to “take risks.” Or “believe in yourself.” As interviewers, we’ve made the connection that although the question asks what an interviewee would tell their twenty-three year old self, the answer we receive applies to their current situation. So the question subconsciously reads, “what would you tell yourself?” And more often than not, their answer revolves around fear, and going back to the optimism of their twenty-three year old self.

Today we were exposed to experience and inexperience. We saw how fear, drawn from experience, can literally paralyze, like the fainting goat on its back with its legs stuck in the sky. Or how a lack of knowledge, like a first time entrepreneur, a baby fainting goat, or picking up drumsticks can afford that innocent sensation that the world is a clean slated canvas.

As I write this, I am sitting on a couch with four girls at the University of Delaware. The RV is parked outside in their driveway, sticking out ever so slightly in the street and edging up against the gutter of Klondike Kate’s, the restaurant in which we just devoured three orders of nachos with five other female students.

Life is good.

We spoke to an entrepreneurship class of fifty-five students tonight. Considering that we wrote most of the presentation at 2am in a bar last night in Philadelphia with two professional hula hoopers, it could not have gone better.

Walking towards Alfred Lerner Hall with Jay and Zach, about to deliver our unrehearsed, soon to be improvised “speech,” I asked the guys what moment they were more scared of. Was it this moment, just minutes before facing a room full of our peers to see what the response was to a project we’d devoted the last three months to? Or was it when we were about to enter the Sheridan Correctional Facility to sit amongst a hundred prisoners and listen to an AA motivational speaker.

The unanimous answer was this moment.

Inside the classroom we had some technical difficulties that delayed our presentation ten minutes, nearly forcing us to deliver our message without the aid of pretty pictures on powerpoint. We finally prevailed and opened by showing our introductory video, which can be seen below.

As we got into the core of our story, we all became more confident in what we said. It was the first time we had shared it in a public setting. And it felt good. Jay shared stories about Class Project, living on my couch for two months, and group dynamics. Noah talked about how funny it was that a Spanish linguistics and creative writing major was standing in front of a business class, sharing entrepreneurial lessons gleaned from the road. Zach’s naturally beautiful voice put the class at ease as he talked about how the students sitting before us should take advantage of every opportunity in school. I just tried to speak from the heart.

An hour and thirty minutes later we had students in the RV signing our ceiling and talking to us about how energizing it was to have four guys their age talking about issues on their mind. Questions that had not been shared in class came pouring out as we talked with students one on one. All the fears that we had going into the class, and even at the conclusion of the presentation, were relieved after seeing the jubilant reaction of the students.

The fifteen minute break the professor allotted the students to come chill with us came and went, students scurried back to their class, and we left with Noah’s long lost cousin and her two friends.

It was a good thing we were a part of last night, and I’m down to do it again.

What separates a good idea from a bad one? I have focused on this question over the course of my travels, and this post is based on the conversations I’ve had with many entrepreneurs who’ve had their fair share of ideas. It’s meant to give you some questions to ponder in hope that you will be able to separate the good ideas from the bad.

1) Where is the idea coming from?

Matt Flannery, founder of Kiva.org, came up with ten business ideas during a quarter-life crisis. He flirted with a number of odd plans, ranging from DVD vending machines to an online luxury clothing rental company to creating robots that connected to the internet for video content.

The problem with these ideas, Matt said, “was that these ideas were negative reactions against my current state. They weren’t proactive movements towards something I love.”

2) What are your interests?

One night I took pen to paper and wrote down all of my interests. Travel. Learning. Writing. Having meaningful conversations. Baseball…

I took these interests and applied it to a question, “what the hell should I do after graduation?”

I was able to unify these interests into a simple idea called Pursue the Passion.

3) What makes your idea special?

“Brett, people come up with these ideas every year. There’s always someone traveling around getting guidance, or wisdom, or whatever. The point is, your idea is not new. It’s not special. There has to be something more than the idea, and that’s the person behind it. They have to be passionate about what they are doing to make the idea special.”

These are the words of Aaron Matos, CEO of Jobing.com when I first met him to discuss possible sponsorship of Pursue the Passion.

4) Feedback

“A good idea will receive more negative feedback than a bad idea,” said Matt Flannery, the entrepreneur discussed in paragraph one. “Groundbreaking ideas have a contrarian nature, they contradict common wisdom and common sense. That’s why no one else is doing it. No one else thinks it’s feasible. If it’s a great idea, a lot of people won’t think it’s feasible. And that will make it a good idea.”

It’s important to get feedback on your ideas because it will give you a feel for how good the idea really is. Just remember to keep the quote above in mind.

5) How deep do I really care?

I believe this is the last question you need to ask yourself before investing time and money to an idea. It’s a tough question to ask. But a necessary one.

For me, the quote that I have on my home page is “half of the American work force is not satisfied with their job.” Every time I read this quote I think back to when I was an auditor, working in this beaten down building with thousands of employees that had the same beaten down look the building had.

So when I start to doubt my idea, I think back to that scene. And then I remember why I do this.

Yesterday I came across Whitney Johnson’s “Dare to Dream” blog. She had an interesting point on one of her posts that said, “for all your readers know, you may be daring them to dream, without having dreamt yourself.”

This quote frightened me. I’m scared that you, the reader, think that I, the author, am just some 22 year old kid telling you to follow your dreams. I am going to share with you how, and why, I am pursuing the passion so you do not get the wrong impression of this site.

My Story:

I chose accounting when I was deciding what my major should be in college. My step dad told me that accountants made the most money and had the most opportunity out of school, and since I was insecure and money driven at that point, I chose accounting.

I never planned on being accountant, but that was the path I was led down by default. All of my classmates either were continuing their accounting education by obtaining their masters degree, or were accepting offers at Big 4 firms for fifty thousand dollar salaries in the fall semester of 2005. I was stuck in the middle. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.

I had twenty interviews with potential employers that fall semester, and one thing became apparent. Not everyone had it figured out.

But that damn question of “what should I do with my life” lingered over the heads of everyone I talked to in the interview waiting rooms. Even after I accepted an offer with an accounting firm that fall, that question still remained on my mind.

In my very last interview, I got this funny feeling. I was overcome with fear that this would be my last interview. As I watched my interviewer ramble on and on about how much she loved her job, I realized that I liked interviews. I discovered that I liked interviews because I liked people. And what I enjoyed most about people was talking with them about their passion.

I went home that night and thought about what I would do during the summer between graduation day and my official start date in Corporate America. I got out a pen and paper and jotted down the things I wanted to do. I wanted to travel. I wanted to be close to sports. I wanted to better myself. Most of all, I wanted to continue having the feeling I had when I talked with people about their passion.

These desires that I wrote down is what you now see with Pursue the Passion. The RV came as a necessity because we had nowhere to stay, and I actually thought that when I bought Maggie Miracles (the first RV), that I was making a sound investment. Three hours into the first trip, broken down with green liquid spewing from the engine, I quickly realized that it had not been such a financial savvy decision.

That summer I interviewed 75 amazing people. I traveled 10,000 miles by RV, my mom’s 4Runner, plane, and train for 2 months. I went to places like Nike, Microsoft, Playboy, many sports stadiums, the homes of welcoming strangers, and cities I had only read about. It was the time of my life.

The summer also had an inadvertent effect on my Corporate America experience. It completely soured it before I even stepped in the door. I knew, that after being exposed to all different occupations and possibilities, that I had made the wrong choice to go into accounting. I was selling out by going into a secure, stable, well-paid position because it just wasn’t me. But because I was contractually obligated to show up on September 4th, I was going to show up on September 4th.

On August 23rd, two weeks before my anticipated start date, I reported to a “real job.” The corporate lifestyle benefits came throughout the week, ranging from extravagant lunches to all types of corporate goodies. I temporarily forgot about all that I had gained and gleaned during the summer.

But as the months passed, I began to revisit the advice that was given to me. I began to write a book about the pursuit of a passion, despite not working with a passion myself. This was troublesome to me, and even more so as I continued to receive emails from people around the world who were inspired by this site.

I felt not only like a corporate sellout, but also a hypocrite. I thought to myself, “how can I have a site that says to pursue your passion when I’m not pursuing it myself?”

I guess that was my “aha” moment where I said to hell with this. I started to get by on a PB & J diet, sacrificed Saturday nights, and saved up so I could go on a second PTP tour. I sent out over twenty carefully crafted sponsorship proposals to corporations, schools, and small businesses to see if they’d be interested in sponsoring the tour. No luck.

One day I received an email from the boss saying that she wanted to see me. I made the decision that it was now or never for me. It was time to quit the job I despised.

I walked into the office belonging to my boss at the scheduled time on the scheduled date with my heart pounding and my roommate’s co-worker’s resume. My boss was seated on the other side of the desk with two envelopes. Much like a classic western gunfight, I drew first. I quit. BAM!

I left the two envelopes on the table, one containing a raise, the other a bonus, and said goodbye to steady paychecks and corporate security.

With no paycheck, I scrambled to get by. I hired my friend Jay, who graduated in December with a college degree and is now on the tour, and paid him minimum wage to help me get things in line with the Pursue the Passion tour. He crashed on my couch, and we ate free Hot Pockets and Stouffer’s products, given to us by Nestle, until we couldn’t take the taste anymore.

Every day I would rise at 5am, wake Jay up at 8am, and we’d work until 9pm or 10pm. Then we’d bounce back the next day, looking for sponsors, passionate people to interview, and couches to crash on.

It wasn’t until I focused all my time on Pursue the Passion did I start to see results. After all those hours of writing sponsorship proposals, we found a sponsor in Jobing.com right in our own backyard. We went from having four people visit the site a day to an average of two hundred people per day. We made a pact not to eat Hot Pockets again.

Things started to click and hit full stride come July 1st, the official start of the second Pursue the Passion tour.

We’ve been on the road for over a month now, pursuing our passion, and the question that I frequently receive is “so, are you any closer to finding out what you want to do yet? What you going to do after this?”

People don’t realize that I am a passion pursuer and a crazy entrepreneur that will not stop until the bank account says zero. My goal is to turn this website into a resource that will help people who are in the same situations I found myself in as a student, and in the working world.

I am whole heartedly and no longer hypocritically pursuing my passion, and I invite you to join the journey as well.

Over the past few weeks I’ve sought explanations from friends, forums, and family to answer to my question of “What is preventing people from pursuing their passion?” The result?

“Money is the fundamental reason of why people are not pursuing their passion.”

No big surprise, right? But as I started to analyze these answers, I began to identify the one common theme that stood out.

It’s not about money. It’s about lifestyle.

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The stock market is a great template for determining the price of a product. The market is simple…if you meet the earnings estimates set by analysts, your stock goes up. But then again, if you fall below that estimate, your stock goes down.

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When I was a four-eyed 5th grader, I participated in a summer reading contest at my elementary school. This contest called for its participants to seek out sponsorships to benefit multiple sclerosis. The student that raised the most money and read the most pages would win a bike and two tickets to an Oakland Athletics game. As a fifth grader, these two prizes were all I could ever want, so that summer I set out to win this contest.

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