Sitting here in Mendoza, Argentina, I’m reflecting on the sequence of events that brought me here. I was graciously invited to guest post and accepted as this blog is one I follow and enjoy. “Maybe something inspirational” was the direction given, perfect. My goal since I started blogging has been mainly to help and inspire others. With the freedom to write what I wanted I got quite excited.
Growing up, like many of us, I struggled to discover just what I wanted to do with my life. I excelled in sports at a young age, so naturally I believed I’d be a professional athlete. Unfortunately at age 12, I stopped growing, vertically that is. At 6 ft tall I was able to dominate the smaller lads in basketball and baseball.
Of course by around the time I was a Sophomore in high school, I was beginning to realize that I had better come up with a new plan. I had been passed up by the late bloomers physically and professional sports appeared to be a very unlikely profession.
I remember sitting in our high schools career center, browsing the possible professions, basing my future around average yearly salaries and the amount of additional schooling needed. Growing up in the US, the culture teaches you that the more money you make, the more important you are. Through countless exercises and endless brainstorming my career path remained undecided.
Senior year came and things were becoming clearer. I had lost 65 lbs the summer before my senior year and learned to eat right. Working out had become an everyday habit and opportunities were opening up. I had begun personal training for friends and family who were impressed with my progress.
It was around this time that I attended a class on real estate investment with my parents, taught by local guru Greg Pinneo. I was told that he was a smart successful guy and my mom thought it’d be good to hear his message.
Sitting at the Willows lodge nestled into the countryside in Woodinville, WA, my hand cramped from the 8 pages of copious notes that sat in front of me. The intense two day seminar was about to conclude and I felt inspired, informed and ready to conquer Seattle’s real estate market. My personal training would have to take a backseat for now.
I was always nervous whenever Mr. Lowery would hand back our essays. I always knew that I had done pretty well, but feared that I had made so many grammatical errors that my thesis was irrelevant. I was in my junior year then and had seen my writing abilities really start to take off. My mom and Mr. lowery took notice complimenting my talent and encouraging me to pursue it.
This period in my life was quite a crossroads as it is for so many young people trying to decide their lives’ path. I had the opportunity to become a real estate agent at a local company and it seemed like the hot profession at the moment.
Personal training kept me in the gym, staying in shape and seemed like a meaningful profession, but I knew the money likely wouldn’t be great. Becoming a writer was something I I was very interested in, but would require years of studying at a major university and even then nothing was promised.
I made the decision to go where the money was and take the real estate route. The coming 4 years, I would do very well for myself financially; however I would come to realize that no amount of money can create happiness.
Two new condos, a Mercedes CLK coupe and an expensive blond girlfriend provided me more frustration than happiness. I thought I had the things that I had always wanted and yet I was miserable.
In the coming year I would lose everything I had, but I would gain something much more valuable than any material possession, happiness.
Thanks to the huge financial crises of 2008-2009, my income as a realtor basically evaporated overnight. I took a job as a part time bartender and struggled to get by. What a shock to this “fairy-tale” life. I guess reality has to catch up to all of us at some point.
The waterfront condo? Gone. The Benz? Yup that too. And of course the girlfriend jumped ship as well. I won’t lie, I didn’t spring to action and turn it all around. I fell into a deep depression. I had dated this girl 2 and a half years and was 2 payments into an engagement ring purchase. While the signs of an impending break up were obvious, I tried to press through, after all nothing is perfect. The, “Your better off” comments failed to brighten my spirits much.
On my 23rd birthday I remember staring at myself in the mirror, tears running down my face. I didn’t even recognize the person in the mirror. The night before I had found out my ex had found a new romance, quite the birthday gift. I had ballooned up and was terribly overweight and unhappy.
I guess we all need a breaking point and this was mine. I remember saying to myself right then,”It’s time I lived my life for me and pursue what makes me happy.”. I had turned to writing as a way to vent my emotions in this time of peril. I started writing a blog, a new nutrition and exercise program and planned my trip to Argentina.
With all the losses I had accrued in the preceding weeks I realized that cutting these ties and obligations enabled me to gain freedom to pursue what I was passionate about, travel, writing and getting in shape.
In late October of 2009 I started LivingBueno.com, spreading the message that following your passion and pursuing happiness was way more important than the number in your bank account. Thus far the site has been a tremendous success growing at least 30% in traffic each and every month since its inception. More importantly it has helped me tell my story and encourage others to life a more fulfilling life.
My dreams are being realized and things are going amazing. On January 13th I left for the voyage through South America, I’d been planning for so long. 7,000 miles, 5 cities and 64 hours of bus travel later, I’m chilling writing to you from Mendoza, Argentina. I find myself one day away from Buenos Aires where I will live for a few months, settling into a new city and a new culture. I’m happier than ever, having lost 70 lbs and starting my writing career.
My message to you all is that if you want something, don’t second guess yourself. Know exactly what you want, write it down, work harder than anyone else and just go do it. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful. It won’t be easy, it’ll likely be the hardest thing you will ever do. You will work long hours, question whether your crazy and deal with others doubting you on a daily basis. But if you persevere through these tough times, I promise you, you will win. Only put out your best product, network and hustle consistently and success is inevitable.
“Many a false steps have been made by standing still”
Get up and stop whining. Life can be amazing, if you stop waiting for things to happen and make them happen. Start realizing your dreams today, tomorrow isn’t promised.
When I asked the Novelista Barista for a topic to write my guest post on- she suggested something about coffee or maybe something inspirational or just to write whatever I want! I contemplated telling a few funny stories about my experience as a barista during college, but most of those usually turn out to be “guess you had to be there” moments. So I tried to brainstorm about what inspires me…ummmm…ehhhhh… this shouldn’t be this hard should it? Gosh, there is nothing more uncomfortable than an awkward silence between you and your thoughts- but then my sorted memory pulled through and I recalled something that could perhaps be a perfect combination of the two topics. That’s when I remembered the day I saw this…
The Way I See It #17:
"The world bursts at the seams with people ready to tell you you're not good enough. On occasion, some may be correct. But do not do their work for them. Seek any job; ask anyone out; pursue any goal. Don't take it personally when they say "no" - they may not be smart enough to say "yes."
-- Keith Olbermann (broadcast journalist)
I would have never guessed that something on a Starbuck’s cup would follow me for over a year after I first read it between sips of my Non-fat Caramel Macchiato. I remember after reading this quote I got this rousing feeling inside. The old “I can do anything!” motto ran around my head. Yes- that’s right- I could hear the patriotic drums of freedom and independence ringing in my ears. When my melodramatics subsided, I really sat down to think about what this quote was trying to convey. Sure I was a believer of “it’s his loss, not mine” and when a door slams in your face- oh look! Another door! Of course these are over-used self-esteem building clichés, but they have a way of reminding you that, yes indeed, the sun always rises- at least until 2012. But I think the reason this coffee cup excerpt always catches my eye is because- I have yet to listen to its wisdom. I wish that I could walk around with a ‘who-cares-what-you-think’ attitude and a smile exploding with confidence, but life seems to keep serving me a warm plate of rejection at every turn. It’s hard to be sunny-side up when someone says “No” to something you really wanted- love, a job, forgiveness, a chance…
You can’t help but go through the self-deprecating banter that occurs inside your head.
What’s wrong with me?
Am I boring? Ugly? Fat? Worthless? Bland? Unqualified? Inexperienced? And the worst of all for me-- Not Good Enough?
Just thinking about the times when I have felt not good enough makes me cringe. On the other hand, there is a school of thought that would applaud my style of thinking- some call them pessimists, some just call them realists. It is focusing on what really happened instead of making up excuses for something that did not go your way. Realists cannot stand any type of sugar-coating what-so-ever. A realist might say, “The truth is… you’ve gained some weight since college and that is why that guy stood you up” VERSUS “He just couldn’t handle a strong, independent woman like yourself!”
Sometimes statements such as the latter seem silly when you read them- but is it really so bad? Who is it hurting? If it is helping you get on with your life and if it prevents you from spending another pointless second thinking about some douche-bag who ditched you- DO IT!
I think everyone has that inner battle between being real with yourself and looking on the brightside. All that matters though, is how it makes you feel inside- sure its good to recognize where you are at the present moment, but don’t you cherish the emotions that a quote like this stirs up inside you?
What I want to do is frame this quote and hang it where I will see it everyday. With all the negative things happening in the world today (war, poverty, unemployment, etc.), people deserve to think positively and to, at times, believe that the clouds are made of marshmallows. It’s simply human nature to get excited and inspired over a quote that makes us feel invincible. So thanks Keith Olberman- I will go pursue my dreams and I will not let someone tell me I’m not good enough! I say “hats-off” to Starbucks for keeping the dream alive, for using their coffee cups as a platform for inspiration, and for giving us that enjoyable emotion of hope that goes down as smoothly as a Pumpkin-Spice Latte on a crisp fall day.
*thank you Wonderlane for the perfectly fitting photo
I posted a while back about my new year’s resolution. I have some great goals to say the least that include difficult yet attainable things. I was listening to the radio though the other day and heard about this thing called My One Word. It is basically this experiment that a group is doing to get people to live for one word instead of having a ton of goals. This one word is found by deciding who you want to be by the end of the year, defining the characteristics of that person and finding a word that encompasses all of that. This word doesn’t have to be a synonym but it should be a word that will eventually lead you to your goal. The idea is to keep us focused on one word all year long instead of multiple things everyday. By focusing on one thing we can easily measure our change.
It didn’t take me a very long time to decide what my word was going to be. Not that I am obsessed with Taylor Swift or anything, but her new CD title really motivates me. Fearless. Not only do I want to be Fearless in 2010, I want to Fear Less. It’s not that I want to go crazy and do things that could kill me but instead I don’t want to be scared to be bold, different or myself. I don’t want to be scared to shoot for the moon. I don’t want to focus on all the negatives of a situation—I want to Fear the hard stuff less. I want to be fearless. I want to push myself and commit to the impossible and make things possible. So for me this year, I aim to be fearless. I challenge everyone to think of a word that encompasses their life goals for this year… what could you lose?
*Alexandria. by likeacomfypairofjeans.
I love talking about passion and how it can truly change people and make them happier in life. So when Novelista Barista offered a chance to guest in her blog, I emailed her right away! I think every opportunity to inspire even just one soul is good enough for me.
I’m pretty sure we all carry childhood dreams with us until now. But thanks to the demands of this world, we tend to fold that list of dreams and put them aside thinking, “Not today” or “I don’t have the time”. Every time we say this, a day, a week, a month and another year passes by with you just WISHING you were able to do it.
When I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to be a radio DJ. I’d get my little cassette recorder and make my own radio programs with my little brother and cousins as my “callers” to win Spice Girls tickets. I’ve thought about it for years and years, never having the courage to try it. I always gave myself a reason NOT to do it. After graduating from college, I realized I didn’t have any reason left. So I took a deep breath, auditioned and got the gig! I only did it for 5 months, but it was awesome.
That’s a check on my childhood wish list!
There are still so many things that I want to do, and I’m currently working on them little by little. I hope you get to re-open that wish list of yours too and start taking leaps. Because, really, we only have one life to live and it would be terrible if we lived this life full of ‘what ifs’. Don’t give yourself reasons ‘not to’ anymore, embrace your passions and let the child in you play!
By: Tabitha of http://www.lilmisstabs.
My name is Kirsty, and I’m a blogaholic. (Please refer to article 57b, the first piece of evidence: www.kirstyroad.blogspot.com) My addiction began with a foray into Facebook five years ago – doesn’t everyone experiment at University? – and before I knew it, there was MySpace and Bebo, and everything spiralled out of control. Thank goodness Stephen Fry condoned Twitter, because I was tweeting with the dawn chorus. Now don’t judge, don’t judge – all that stuff is in my past. Because I found the word – and the word was Blogger.
NB, our gracious host, sounded the call for guest bloggers (it comes through a giant pink conch shell, and can only be heard by bloggers, bats and Mariah Carey), and here I am to answer it! The brief was as follows: INSPIRE ME.
Frankly, I hear the word inspiration and I think of two things. The first is skimpily-shorted men pounding down West Sands (“Chariots of Fire” was actually filmed in my University town) to the sound of Vangelis, sand spraying and sweat flying, with looks of agony etched on their faces. (I’m not a runner.) The second is inspiration as writers know it – the fodder of our creativity, and the thing that we’re useless without. Inspiration is the ink in our pens – and it’s usually bled straight from our jugular. I’ve written mostly about two things since I first picked up a pen – unrequited love and heartache, and my home country, South Africa, which serves as the most selfish and stubborn of all my long-distance lovers.
A few years ago I wrote a fortnightly column as part of my gig as an editor of the student rag. Finding inspiration for 300 words with no specified topic had me wrenching my own teeth out, just to have something to talk about. But here lies the true beauty of the blog. No, not self-performed dentistry without anaesthesia (actually I made that bit up) – but the joy and wonder to be found in the most ordinary of places – and even more than that, the inspiration to be found in worldwide fellowship.
Sound cheesy? Well, it is, sorry, there’s not much that can be done about that. You might as well give in to it, and start listening to “Something inside so strong”, or “Lean on me”, or other inspiring ditties, because it’s only going to get worse from here. Here it is: what’s inspired me to keep writing about my daily life in the hope that my little trials touch other people, is how much I’ve been touched by the regular, day-to-day ordinariness of the wonderful people I’ve met online. I’ve just joined a book group with Diana and some other lovely gals! J has just begun therapy, and I’m excited to hear about her progress. Paula and I are wading being Scottish single gals together. And yay yay yay NB has a new job! Congrats NB – and it’s been a pleasure hanging out here while you GO GET ‘EM!
Oh, and my hand-on-heart most inspirational moment of my whole life? Walking across the stage at my graduation. Because in the end, the best person to inspire me… is me :)
Hi, I'm Stephen from "Blogs by Night"
So the ethereal Novelista Barista has put out a call for guest bloggers, and being especially strapped for volunteers has apparently deemed my offering worthy :) The 'challenge' she set of sorts was to write something that inspires me/makes me happy, and being as I was at the time flicking through my photos, I decided to write about the time I taught wee Chinese kiddies to speak the Queen's English.
---
After university and before law school, I decided to undertake that rite of passage taken by many an undecided British youth: the gap year
Working in a variety of mind-numbing (glorified data entry), back breaking (postroom/box-lifting) and random (sending out pamphlets to the Chelsea Flower Show) jobs to pay for this Far East jaunt, I set off during the first week of January 2008 to Hainan, the little island in the south of China. The first few weeks were spent acclimating to the massive culture shock, the next month and a bit (handily during the coldest China winter for 50 years!) was spent travelling along the south and west of the country, and just shy of March, I began teaching in a local primary school. I must at this point let you know that while I am ethnically Chinese, I was a lazy child, learning English very young and thus being too stubborn by far to learn Chinese. My Cantonese is limited to everyday comprehension and my Mandarin before the trip was non-existent and even now is distinctly pidgin and gleaned from phrasebooks and curiosity.
And so it came to be that I was standing at the front of a classroom, in my shirt and trousers next to the immense chalkboard, fifty-something pairs of childrens' eyes staring right at me. Oh yes, the classroom sizes were all between 50 and 60. As a precaution we had the customary English teachers next to us in the corner for moral support, and all but one of my supervising colleagues were very sweet and extremely helpful. But I had made it clear that this was something I wanted to do by myself and the kindly women with passable English (marred only with hesitation, a distinct Chinese twang to their accents and slight breakdowns in colloquialisms) were to step in for the more complicated instructions only.
The looks in those hundred-plus little eyes was one of anticipation, curiosity and mischief. From observing a couple of classes the day before, I was aware that it would take extreme measures to keep their attention. As such I was armed with A4 flashcards of my own invention, the supplied curriculum textbooks, a notebook containing interactive games I had thought up and another with the words I was to teach along with pinyin pronunciation (yes they giggled at my terrible attempt at Chinese but I think it was appreciated?) and the Chinese characters (my attempts at writing out the calligraphy was on occasion so terrible I just rubbed it off and pointed to it in the textbooks).
The most scary part of the entire process, as I'd foreseen, was the initial meeting point. Yes, the children all looked cute or vaguely podgy but with their numbers there was the likelihood that they would all form on me as a mob if I failed to hold their attention or respect. How then to introduce myself? To show none of the apprehension that I was sure would break out and expose my inexperience. I dove right in, "Hello, I am your teacher, you can call me Stephen." All the while writing my name on the chalkboard as I spoke in the clearest and most projected voice I had (the classroom, as you can expect, were large. Larger than a few tennis courts laid end-to-end I would say). I laid out the structure of the lesson, revision of the previous class first, that I would give points for children who were 'good' and who answered the questions correctly. Then the possible mistake. I opened the floor to the children for some quick questions to clear the tension, so the learning could begin in earnest. The first few were simple: how old are you? Have you got a Chinese name? After which came the question I was surprised hadn't come first: So you are Chinese? Yes. But you are from England? Yes, which elicited an almost farcical gasp of disbelief and talking amongst themselves. I promptly shushed them, fingers to lips and all (feeling not a little like a pantomime) and pointed at the small girl at the front, whose hand shot up instananeously. Clearly forgetting the "My Chinese is VERY bad" bit from the beginning, she ran off a question in fast and completely untelligible Mandarin to me. Noticing my bewildered look, the teacher stood from her chair and said "She asks, in that case, how do you eat your dinner? Do you use a knife and fork or chopsticks?" Struck dumb by the absurd logic behind the question, I burst out laughing. Decorum unceremoniously cast aside for those few seconds I leant on the teacher podium and just let loose. Full-out LOL.
Which set everyone else in the classroom laughing too, of course. This set the tone of my classes to come. They were as uncertain as I, and I was then to cement my reputation as the curiously non-Chinese Chinaman English teacher who was strict but fun. The children seemed to love me and I loved them right back for that, especially the cheeky ones who found excuses to come to the English staffroom and try out their English "What are you doing?" even though they had no hope of understanding my reply. As I wrote in my highly cheesy China journal:
"Some of the classes are so co-operative, keen to learn and so delightfully smiley that, to be cheesy, they are akin to little balls of sunshine! When I find them in that mode, it's sucha pleasure to teach them and my heart swells a little with pride with every unassisted correct answer and melts a little with every smile on their cute faces. It's a small but not easily quantifiable happiness when they greet me with a little grin or wave, and even on my most homesick of days my mood lifts a little when they cheer upon my entrance into the classroom."
What you learn from experiences like this, so completely out of the normal cycle of everyday life is that you are capable of things that you would never think of unless you give it your best try. You can counter language barriers, culture shocks, challenges never before faced. And sometimes, all you can do, is all that is necessary: to be yourself.
I Took Theraflu, Turns Out Im Pregnant
By Lauren at www.somewhinewithcheese.com
What a title for a blog post, am I right? Don’t worry, this post has nothing to do with Theraflu – or me being pregnant. I just had to sneak this into my blog post for today, because I got my lijit search words report last night, and it turns out two people typed that into Google, and my blog popped up. I can’t decide if these people are blaming Theraflu for getting pregnant, or found out they were pregnant and worried Theraflu might affect their baby? Regardless, it made me think “thank god I’m not that idiot.” (My boss also just walked up behind me and we had a short work related conversation while this post was up. Im guessing he thinks Im a super idiot now as well).
On to my REAL post
When The Novelista Barista asked for guest bloggers, I JUMPED at the opportunity. I am in love with her blog and would be honored if she let me sit in on her world for a day. So when I emailed her saying “me me me!” I half expected a response like “so sorry, I’m at capacity!” (Not in a snotty way. More in a herblogisawesome way and anyone should want to guest post). But instead I get “Hey! Yah I do!! Can you send me something? Whatever you want to write is good! Send it over to me!”
Turns out her new job has got her all busy, and she needs something for tomorrow. And then I got nervous. WHATEVER I wanted to write. No direction. Someone is asking you to speak to her readers for them, and the world is your oyster. People who aren’t your followers will be reading. Wipe beads of sweat off your forehead Lauren and JUST DO IT. I tried to think of something inspirational. Something sweet. Something corny. Then I read her guest blog for Monday, and he wrote that he was inspired by fear. And so I decided to write my guest post on my recent fear.
WINTER. WHITE. SKIN.
I live in Southern California. Home to a dozen or so beaches, and if you don’t live by one there is a tanning salon in your backyard. No really, some people really do have them in their homes. I suffer from what I like to call winterskinflab. The kind of untoned muscle that looks better covered with a bronzed tan, almost unnoticeable, but once the winter hits, and the color goes away, it just looks like what it is – fat. Now I’ve been blessed my whole life with a kick ass metabolism. I don’t have to go on diets, or eat like a rabbit. But the older I get, the more I realized what my mom used to tell me is true. That one day flab will just start to stick to places. And this year, it’s sticking. I’ve also been blessed with lots o freckles and moles on my body, so baking my arse in a tanning bed is just asking for skin cancer. And I don’t have the time or energy to get myself “spray tanned” every 10 days. And lastly, I have not been blessed with that beautiful, milky white skin that redheads and towhead (real) blondes have, that look perfect when they are winter white. To prove my point (to only myself) I compared photos from this summer to this winter. I weigh the same, give or take a pound or two. The pictures from my Washington camping trip in July? I look good. Photos from Vegas this summer? Smokin hot if I do say so. Pictures from Thanksgiving? Me and the turkey share something in common. I look like I have wattle. Christmas? Bowl full of jelly. And New Years Eve? The shirt I wore was a bad choice, because I looked preggo, standing next to my REAL preggo friend, who looked smaller than me.
I just made an appointment at “Amazon Tan” to get spray tanned in the next few weeks. Because there aint no way in hell I’m walking down the aisle at my sister’s wedding looking like flabby casper. Fingers crossed I don’t turn out like this.
Hello everyone. I am Aquiles from Minute by Minute. Pleased to meet you.
While the Novelista Barista is busy at her new job (wishing her the best of lucks), I will share a couple of thoughts with you.
To write or not to write—that is my daily battle—not because I have a hard time expressing my emotions, thoughts, and feelings through the use of words, sentences, and punctuations, but because I do it too much. Just like the photographer and his/her camera, I always find myself capturing the moment—using the pencil and paper as my tools. I often find myself experiencing a constant desire to write about the sun setting on the west; the lover’s moon; the rain drops in the American South; the child that plays with his mom at the park; the girl who rides the train on Sunday morning—with no specific destiny. I like to capture life special moments, for as the minutes go by, they fade into the past.
______
The next lines tell a true story.
_______
I am frustrated.
My heart feels overwhelmed.
I am angry with myself, but is it my fault?
I don’t know, at least not yet.
I look for my iPod; I’m in search of that one song, which melody and lyrics were exclusively composed and written for me, just in case I was frustrated; in case my heart felt overwhelmed and I did not know whose fault it was.
I am frustrated.
Oh beautiful mulatta, I just walked by you.
I was confused as to whether I knew you or not.
But, I did.
Unfortunately, I realized that my eyes had landed upon your beauty not too long ago one second too late.
You seemed to have known me as well. But by the time you looked at me, I was gone.
We knew each other. Yet—it took us a minute to synchronize the idea in our busy memory. But by the time we remembered, we were both gone.
Now you, mulatta of dreams, with gorgeous caderas, exotic hips, and sun-burned skin, you are gone.
Frustration invades my heart.
I only wish I could have said hola, rented you a smile, and walked away with your gorgeous eyes engraved on my memory.
I am frustrated.
It is my fault.
Now you are gone and I am here thinking of you; writing about you; wishing you.
The mulatta is gone.
http://minutebyminute09.
I survived Day 1!!!And I loved it... it finally feels real, that I am actually at another job and that I am not just on vacation from my old job.
I am really excited... we got laptops...no desks though. They are moving their office to a brand new office in a month and in a week or two we are moving to a temporary office in downtown Stamford so that is awesome because we will be in walking distance of all the bars and stores!! Plus it will be a brand new office.
I am so excited to adapt to the change of this copy. It is really exciting!!!
I stopped by the dentist after work (thank god they were still open) because I was in ridiculous amounts of pain STILL.. 10 days later and I am STILL in pain.. literally ready to murder him and he shaved down my tooth a little where the temporary filling was so that when i bit down, it didn't stick up too much and told me to take advil.... So far its working because the pain has lessened dramatically. I guess we'll see at 3am if i am dying of pain again like last night.
How was everyone's Monday? I am having a series of guest posters this week. I got a great response from everyone wanting to guest post. Gals and gents, you can write whatever you want, I was thinking of sticking with inspirational stuff, but anything is great. I am not picky nor are the readers :)
So I wanted to thank everyone who has volunteered to help me out!
Also, I would like to give a HUGE thanks to Raych who literally signed onto my blog and fixed the header for me because I am HTML retarded. Thank you soooo much that was so nice of you to do, so please go check out her blog and give her much deserved blog love!!!
I will be posting as much as possible but show my guest bloggers so love too :)
oh and don't forget about my giveaway! two more days to enter!!
So the NB, your friend and mine, the Novelista Barista, put out a call for guest bloggers. And obviously, once she ran out of Nobel laureates, stock trading geniuses and rakishly handsome associate professors, she turned to 'lil 'ol me to help fill the space at the Casa Del NB while she is off stunning the corporate world with her own particular brand of awesomeicity.
Just who the heck am I? I'm Michael, I blog at innocentsaccidentshints.
This is not, you might say, my strong suit. I'm the melancholic sort-the kind of person who doesn't so much see the glass as half full so much as the kind of person who worries about someone spilling the glass, and who's going to have to wash it when you're done.
But I like me some NB, even though she's a Yankee fan, and I will try to fit my thoughts within her guidelines.
So, then, therefore-what inspires me?
Fear.
Seriously, my life right now is mostly motivated by fear-fear of going broke, fear of losing my job, fear of what surprises or new expenses tomorrow could bring. And that's a crappy way to live, kids. So take these words of wisdom from an old guy-don't take a job or make a career choice because you think it will pay well. It's not worth it. Do what you love, life is too short not to.
When I watch your typical inspiration fodder-this person overcame this, that person came from nothing-it tends to leave me flat. Not that I don't believe the stories, or that they don't affect me emotionally-but they tend to remind me of my own inadequacy-if THEY can do it, why can't YOU? And I don't know the answer to that question. And I don't like blaming the victim-not everyone can be a hero.
So, in the end, what inspires me other than fear? It's something I learn from history, and something I learn from all of you. It's a bit of a contradiction of what I just said, but what can I say, I'm a contradictory sort of guy. I draw strength from the fact that everyone reading this, and Lincoln, and Napoleon, and Jesus, had days when they doubted their courage, they wondered whether or not they were up to the challenge. So I drag myself through the day, partially because I have to, and partially because I have such a great group of blog friends who remind me, in a hundred little ways, what there is to live for.
Thanks Michael !!! ... I appreciate your post for me today :) ps... love my Yankees!
Please go check out my story about how the Internet has Single Handedly Ruined Relationships!
Please go check it out and leave some love for Elizabeth cuz you shes the shit!!!
Thanks!
This year, I've got only one New Year Resolution:
To have fun... to have fun in every moment, because life should be fun ^_^
And because I love making lists, I also made a to-do list for 2010:
♥ Eat Eat Eat - Eat 200 new foods this year
"Would you like fries with your broken heart?"
It was a typical college day… me and my boyfriend D were chatting after I had just gotten off work at the coffee shoppe. We had been exclusive for about three years and through our ups and downs- breaks and break-ups, we were still trying to hang on.
Sometimes there is no reason why something isn’t working out; it just doesn’t feel the same... The flame slowly burns out overtime, and neither partner can predict it.
This is what was happening between D and me.
“I just feel like were stuck in a rut, ya know?” I said.
“I know, I can’t figure out what is going wrong.” D said.
Awkward silence…
“Do you wanna go to Arby’s- I’m starved.” D- clearly changing the subject, but my tummy was growling as well.
We walked out of the dorm in silence and I drove because my car was parked right in front. The car always brings out fights…at least my car does.
“But it never seems like you try to do anything spontaneous and you never surprise me with anything nice!”- yep, I threw out the spontaneous card.
“That’s all you care about are things and that I am doing something for you everyday… I love you and that should be all I need to do.” D threw back.
“No- love is about so much more, we have to keep the relationship alive somehow.”
We were both frustrated- With each other and with love in general. And I said the one thing that I had grown accustomed to saying…
“Should we go on a break?”
“What does ‘break’ even mean, we go on breaks and we end up still fooling-around and then we are back to where we started!” D yelled.
*Roll down window*
Me: “Ummm hi, can we get two number 3’s please… both with dr. pepper, thanks.”
Arby’s lady: “Your total is $9.55, please pull around.”
“Well fine, let’s break up completely then… I don’t know what it is this time, but usually when we go on breaks, I always know, deep down, that we will get back together... but I don’t feel that at all this time.”
Sometimes it is your own declaration of what has been running around in your mind that can slap you in the face harder than anyone else’s words. This is what I had just done to myself.
The tears started flowing just as we pulled up to the window.
“I know, but we can still be friends… we will work on being friends, okay?”
“oh-o-kay” I said through my now blubbering sobs.
Arby’s lady: “$9.95” I hand her the money “oh geeez.” I hear her say under her breath.
*(This happened to me about 3 years ago, so now I can really laugh about it. I digress…)
Apparently fast food workers think you can’t hear through the drive-thru window that doesn’t even shut all the way.
Arby’s lady: “Shoot! This girl in the drive-thru is ballin’ her eyes out!!”
Another Arby’s employee: “Really? She by herself?”
Arby’s lady: “No, there’s a dude in there too, probably his fault.”
I turn to D and crack a slight smile and he says…
“How does she know its my fault?” With slight sarcasm.
Arby’s lady comes back around the corner and hands me the bag of food.
“Here you go sweetie, cheer up- I put an apple turnover in there for you- on the house.”
First of all, the use of ‘on the house’ coming from Arby’s is hilarious. Second, this really did cheer me up, who doesn’t love a free apple turnover?
“Thank you, that was very nice- I’ll be okay.” I say trying to break a laugh through my tears. Then, Arby’s lady leans to her left so she could get a look at D and says…
“That turnover is for her, not you okay heartbreaker?”
D didn’t know what to do, but I was cracking up at this point, I had totally forgotten about the recent demise of our three year relationship with this comment. I thanked the Arby’s lady one last time and drove off.
“I can’t believe that just happened…” said D with a dumbfounded look on his face.
“Which part- us breaking up or the Arby’s lady calling you out?” I chuckled…
“Both.”
The end.
