Deep beneath fracking’s endless headlines—some good, some bad—lies a business fraught with risk and resilience, greed and grace…and unrelenting madness.

The missteps, the abysmal timing, the pitiful, stumbling overreach, none were recent developments. All were part of an early onset failure, all wired into my DNA from the start. The symptom that was my fledgling frack company, but the cause, the reason, that was all me. I’ll make a hurried, overly zealous decision to do something, then just do it. I’ll assume that if I do, I’ll land on my feet. The bedrock of all my assumptions has always been Why shouldn’t I land on my feet? Why though? Why so damned cavalier?

It is because I am an entrepreneur.

I have an entrepreneurial restlessness that overwhelms common sense and other well regarded human instincts like fear and fear of failure. Reasonable personality traits like caution and restraint are pushed out of the way. Entrepreneurism consumes all the air in the room, riding roughshod over benevolence, dignity, good and proper manners, and everything else living under the umbrella of civility. I’m not necessarily proud of it, either, this inescapable disarrangement, irrepressible and agitating against authority, seeking difficulty over ease, naivety over season. It’s the same bullheadedness that marks all entrepreneurs; our cacophonous, messy catchall of a group which, by all reasonable standards, is a shit-poor group to belong to.