Welcome to the Middle (Phase, Not Finger)

Where your old dream ghosts you + the new one hasn't texted you back yet.

I’m deep in the thick of it—the messy middle.

(GASP… is that an em-dash? Call the AI hall monitors. They’re gonna freak out!)

The place where you realize… shit… you’re not who you were… but you’re also not yet whoever the hell you’re becoming either.

It’s like puberty for your purpose.

And just like real-life puberty, I smell weird, shit is growing on me that I’ve never seen before, and I cried in public twice this week for reasons I barely understand.

The middle feels like being in a full-body bear suit at the county fair!

It’s the middle of July, kids are running around + screaming, I’ve got slushie cups baked on to my ass, and my arm is stuck up the head hole.

I don’t know who I’m supposed to be performing for… and some raspy broad in the back keeps shouting, “Dance, Bitch!” every time I stop to catch my breath.

I’m not lost or broken.

I’m just sweaty, disoriented, and deeply aware that the version of me who volunteered for this gig is fucking gone.

Sometimes you outgrow a dream before you grow into the next one.

I don’t wanna be the founder pushing the hot dog cart up the hill alone anymore.

I wanna find someone else with a mission worth caring about and go ride-or-die for it… like an unhinged wingwoman who makes sure everyone at the bar hears their rally cry.

But until that founder appears with a W-2, health insurance, and a culture that doesn’t feel like a gang initiation, I still have to eat.

I still have to pay my mortgage.

I still have to show up.

I still have to live.

So here I am.

Straddling the gap.

One foot in entrepreneuring. One foot in founder-hunting.

And my ass hovering over a camping chair on a hill I absolutely did not hike on purpose, with a flask full of bad decisions to keep me hydrated.

I’ve done a bunch of shit in May that smells like progress, but mostly tastes like survival.

»»» I updated my resume.

And by “updated,” I mean built one from scratch for the first time in 23 fucking years. I built my first resume in high school while listening to Weezer and lying about my typing speed. This one hit different, but it’s still a mix of half-lies, full-truths, and one bullet that says, “Leading Expert in Hot Dog Philosophy.” Ok, that’s a full-lie… but I should have included it.

»»» I moved my Kit subscribers over to Substack.

Keeping two newsletters felt like trying to run two houses while squatting in both. I got tired + ran outta fucks. So I burnt one down + moved into the one with street meat, weirdos, and Notes. It’s healing here, so that’s where I want to stay for now.

»»» I updated my LinkedIn.

Do the robots like it? Fuck if I know. 🤷‍♀️ But it has my voice, and that feels like a small act of rebellion. I’m starting an experiment in June. Can I make my feed feel as good as Substack in 60 days or less? Come connect with me over there if you wanna front row seat to this weird flex.

»»» I started watching every “legit” UFO documentary I could find.

I needed something weirder than my life to obsess over. Enter: space jellyfish, light orbs, and secret black ops. I can’t prove aliens are real, but I can prove that watching this shit makes me feel more alive than scrolling job listings ever will. If you have recommendations, I’m all ears.

»»» I start using ChatGPT to find the kind of founders/teams I want to work with.

Because who the fuck wants to do all that legwork? I figure if they can use a robot to find me, I can use one to find them. It’s done a pretty damn good job helping me find less mainstream resources that feel human enough to actually give me some founder butterflies.

»»» I late-night-brainstormed up a ME-shaped bespoke service menu I’ll be dropping on a flaming paper plate in June.

Something experimental. Something that doesn’t scale or automate. Because it’s designed for the kind of people who refuse to be reduced to a pain point. It’s still getting tested in the lab, but it’s coming.

I’ve decided to write my way through this.

To document the middle instead of only sharing the before + after.

To detail all the weird shit that happens.

To roast the process while it tries to roast me back.

To make meaning out of the unknowns.

To tell the truth, even when it’s deeply inconvenient to my aesthetic + hireability.

Because this phase deserves a record… not just a motherfucking highlight reel.

I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now.

But I know I’ll be realer.

More rested.

More weird.

More whole.

And, hopefully, getting paid insanely well to be exactly who the fuck I am.

Until then?

I’ll be here… in the middle

Dancing in that damn bear suit.

Sticky. Sweaty. With no access to one arm.

Mic on.

We ride like we don’t know where we’re going to end up.

To all of us straddling joy like it’s an electric fence between freedom + what-the-fuck-now,
Dre 'Aliens Over Algorithms' Beltrami

Founder, This Mustard-Stained Playground
Gangster, The Entire Internet (Since 2014)
Beer Hater, No Matter How It's Brewed (Since 1979)
Step into your YOU-SHAPED ERA: Your Brand DNA Results Are Waiting 🦄🦄🦄 »»»

NEW HERE? Don’t mind the mustard on my shirt. Welcome to my (Dre’s) savage, shameless, cart-sized revolution, where business bends to your life… not the other way around.

This isn’t your Aunt Betty’s Substack newsletter. This is a safe place to land + a wild place to build from.

It’s the kinda place your mom warned you about. Where it’s safe to…

⚡️ Throw f-bombs around like confetti
⚡️ Show up as you are
⚡️ Market in your pajamas, from your notes app, without a plan
⚡️ Write with a stiff middle finger
⚡️ Swear off niching
⚡️ Launch things late, weird, and from the bath
⚡️ Use memes as marketing and not explain a damn thing
⚡️ Give Oprah her pedestal back
⚡️ Change your mind publicly
⚡️ Shred your content calendar and trust your gut
⚡️ Ghost your Instagram for good
⚡️ Prioritize vibes over views
⚡️ Charge what you want, just because you want to
⚡️ Take two-hour naps and call it R&D
⚡️ Be seen, be soft, be savage—all in the same damn sentence
⚡️ Never ask for permission again
⚡️ Work 3 days a week and call it full throttle
⚡️ Create in seasons, rest on purpose, and sell when the mood strikes
⚡️ Be a walking contradiction and still make it make sense
⚡️ Declare “this is how I work” and let people opt in or out
⚡️ Create content that makes your inner child belly laugh
⚡️ Build a solopreneur life that doesn’t require recovery
⚡️ Be wildly visible + deeply private at the same time
⚡️ Leave money on the table if it costs you your joy
⚡️ Slow down, so your soul can catch up
⚡️ Choose depth over dopamine
⚡️ Measure success in freedom, not followers

P.S. Have you taken my UNBrand DNA Test^TM yet? It’s weirdly accurate, slightly unhinged, and ridiculously fun.

P.P.S. If you love a good binge, you can read all my past editions right here. If you want to support this hot dog cart-sized rebellion, upgrade to become a co-conspirator.

Who’s the nutcase behind this cart-sized flamethrower?

Well, hey there, internet stranger… soon to be kindred? Maybe? Possible Well, see soon enough. 🤷‍♀️

I’m Dre Beltrami, the OG of Personal Branding Leaving A Paper Trail for Weirdos to Find You. I write with a middle finger that's 90% intuition, 10% spite, and 0% respect for industry norms. Expect rants, rebellion, and business moves so feral they come with a confetti cannon. 🥳

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10 Ways to Write Like YOU Without the Fear, the Filter, or the Factory Programming

The Outlaw’s Field Notes On Fun, Feel-Good Sales + Marketing

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The "Next Door's" Field Notes On Fun, Feel-Good Sales + Marketing

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