Imagine yourself sitting on your sofa, enjoying a nice cup of tea and watching some television when all of a sudden, you see the secret to your life's success splashed across the screen in the form of a commercial.
The offending commercial I speak of is for the movie, "The Bucket List".
The commercial says, for anyone who hasn't heard of it, that "The Bucket List" is a movie about two old men who decide to make a list of things they want to so before they die; then they go do them.
So, since the "cat's out of the bag", I guess I'd better explain.
One of the secrets I attribute to my success in life is having kept a "Life's to do List". This is a list of things I have wanted to do during my life.
Now I know this doesn't seem like a life altering, problem solving solution to all of life's problems. But just hear me out.
It's not the list itself that has made my life better. I mean it does help to keep me focused and remind me of my goals, but that's not the point. It's the stuff I get to check off of the list that really makes the difference.
It gives me confidence.
And confidence is one of the keys to being successful.
One of the most satisfying things I've ever done is put a check beside "Math 115". That class was nothing but a nightmare for me and I get alot of joy from seeing that little check mark beside it. I look at that when I need a confidence boost.
When I look at that little check mark, I remember all of the sweat, all of the tears of frustration and all of the work that I put into that class; and I remember how I passed it. That little check mark tells me that the things I'm trying to do now are a peice of cake. It makes me realize that I can do anything if I work hard enough at it.
That little check mark gives me confidence.
I've posted my list from my journal on the side to remind me of my new goals and keep me focused. I also posted it so I can look at it when I need a boost.
I think everyone should take the time to sit down and write down everything they want or think they want to do. Just make sure you include things you've already done so that you'll have the confidence to tackle the rest of your list. Nothing is to far-fetched or too impossible, you just have to buckle down and get it done.
Take a little time and invest in yourself. Fill your own "Bucket List". It's worth it!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Promises to myself
I have a confession to make.
I have to admit, this is rather difficult. My fingers are straining at the keys. My mind is screaming NO! Don't tell them! and the stark white emptiness of the computer screen seems to be telling me to run away.
I'm closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and...
I'm not in shape.
There, it's out. That horrible little sentence is free from my mind to haunt me now from the world of the written.
Granted, I wouldn't say I'm an invalid. But for my own personal standards, I am not where I would like to be physically.
I have always approached excercise as a "do when you feel" sort of thing. I've never really been able to stick to a set routine.
But no more!
I'm going to grab that horrible little sentence by the horns and do something about it!
The problem has been identified, now for the solution.
One thing about writing for the public (i.e. posting on the internet) is that you can't take it back. There is a record of your thoughts that millions of eyes (depending on popularity) can see and remember.
This blog holds me acountable. It makes me think before I write and if I don't, it teaches me a lesson in humility.
That being said, I am going to use this to set some goals for myself.
If I say I will do a thousand push-ups a day to my friend and then don't, oh well. My friend most likely will still talk to me if I don't do it and I can go on watching T.V without any real consequences, immediate consequences anyway.
If I tell my Mom I'm going to climb Mount Everst next Sunday, she will have her doubts but smile. When I fail to complete the monumentous task, she will still meet me for our weekly coffee.
If I write it down, however, if I put it into words and hit the "Publish Post" button, that's it, I'd better do it.
So, without anymore adu...my goals for this week:
1. 10 knuckle push ups everyday when I wake up. As soon as my feet touch the floor.
Start one step at a time I always say...
I have to admit, this is rather difficult. My fingers are straining at the keys. My mind is screaming NO! Don't tell them! and the stark white emptiness of the computer screen seems to be telling me to run away.
I'm closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and...
I'm not in shape.
There, it's out. That horrible little sentence is free from my mind to haunt me now from the world of the written.
Granted, I wouldn't say I'm an invalid. But for my own personal standards, I am not where I would like to be physically.
I have always approached excercise as a "do when you feel" sort of thing. I've never really been able to stick to a set routine.
But no more!
I'm going to grab that horrible little sentence by the horns and do something about it!
The problem has been identified, now for the solution.
One thing about writing for the public (i.e. posting on the internet) is that you can't take it back. There is a record of your thoughts that millions of eyes (depending on popularity) can see and remember.
This blog holds me acountable. It makes me think before I write and if I don't, it teaches me a lesson in humility.
That being said, I am going to use this to set some goals for myself.
If I say I will do a thousand push-ups a day to my friend and then don't, oh well. My friend most likely will still talk to me if I don't do it and I can go on watching T.V without any real consequences, immediate consequences anyway.
If I tell my Mom I'm going to climb Mount Everst next Sunday, she will have her doubts but smile. When I fail to complete the monumentous task, she will still meet me for our weekly coffee.
If I write it down, however, if I put it into words and hit the "Publish Post" button, that's it, I'd better do it.
So, without anymore adu...my goals for this week:
1. 10 knuckle push ups everyday when I wake up. As soon as my feet touch the floor.
Start one step at a time I always say...
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Another day, another dollar...right?
Picture this:
It's a cold, dark evening. I'm sitting at the computer, trying to write something meaningful and life altering that will gain me the admiration of my peers.
It's not working.
Try as I might, all I can think of is my night at work. Waitressing is not the most glamorous of professions and I have to admit, I hate going to work. Hours on your feet rushing around, serving nice people, mean people, beautiful people, smelly people and the people with that really annoying nasally voice that just makes you want to scream....
Talking, chatting, squabbling, complaining, crying; noise...so much noise. By the end of the night your brain, ears, eyes and feet are sore and your tired of the human race and just want to sleep.
All of this unpleasantness for $7 an hour.
Why go through this same routine every week? Why drag my feet and tie down my spirit? Why oh why must I smile at that lady that comes in every week to complain about our soup?
I ask myself these questions and more on my drives home as I debate, after every shift, whether or not to become a homeless hippie that eats grass and doesn't have to work any more.
The answer I invariably come to is that I need the money. I want the money. Money makes me feel good because it gets me stuff; and everybody likes stuff....right?
More money means bigger stuff, more stuff, shinier stuff and better stuff. And stuff means happiness. At least that's what my good friend the T.V tells me all the time. Nothing like the advice of a good friend to illuminate the path to fulfillment.
Why do I go to this horrible job? To make money to pay for university to get a better job to get more money to get more STUFF.
That's just depressing.
But wait just a minute. That can't be all there is to life. Granted, I like having a warm place to live and the money does help with that. But is that all? Is all I get for those 8 hours of my life $56 (before tax)?
No.
I like to think that, as I'm smiling at the elderly lady that comes in every week and complains about the same annoying things, I'm not just making that $7 an hour, I'm learning a skill.
She's teaching me patience.
Washing dishes teaches me humility. Service teaches me empathy. Seeing that couple fight makes me grateful for my family life. I'm not just getting more money, the money is almost a bonus. I'm getting hard core spiritual betterment. Every miserable moment working makes me a better person.
I guess that makes it all worth it.
Now I fell better.
Even if work does suck:)
It's a cold, dark evening. I'm sitting at the computer, trying to write something meaningful and life altering that will gain me the admiration of my peers.
It's not working.
Try as I might, all I can think of is my night at work. Waitressing is not the most glamorous of professions and I have to admit, I hate going to work. Hours on your feet rushing around, serving nice people, mean people, beautiful people, smelly people and the people with that really annoying nasally voice that just makes you want to scream....
Talking, chatting, squabbling, complaining, crying; noise...so much noise. By the end of the night your brain, ears, eyes and feet are sore and your tired of the human race and just want to sleep.
All of this unpleasantness for $7 an hour.
Why go through this same routine every week? Why drag my feet and tie down my spirit? Why oh why must I smile at that lady that comes in every week to complain about our soup?
I ask myself these questions and more on my drives home as I debate, after every shift, whether or not to become a homeless hippie that eats grass and doesn't have to work any more.
The answer I invariably come to is that I need the money. I want the money. Money makes me feel good because it gets me stuff; and everybody likes stuff....right?
More money means bigger stuff, more stuff, shinier stuff and better stuff. And stuff means happiness. At least that's what my good friend the T.V tells me all the time. Nothing like the advice of a good friend to illuminate the path to fulfillment.
Why do I go to this horrible job? To make money to pay for university to get a better job to get more money to get more STUFF.
That's just depressing.
But wait just a minute. That can't be all there is to life. Granted, I like having a warm place to live and the money does help with that. But is that all? Is all I get for those 8 hours of my life $56 (before tax)?
No.
I like to think that, as I'm smiling at the elderly lady that comes in every week and complains about the same annoying things, I'm not just making that $7 an hour, I'm learning a skill.
She's teaching me patience.
Washing dishes teaches me humility. Service teaches me empathy. Seeing that couple fight makes me grateful for my family life. I'm not just getting more money, the money is almost a bonus. I'm getting hard core spiritual betterment. Every miserable moment working makes me a better person.
I guess that makes it all worth it.
Now I fell better.
Even if work does suck:)