Monday, December 31, 2012

2012: A Year Of Living Fearlessly?


review
(re-vyoo) noun
a report on or evaluation of a subject or past events: a review of 2012.

I don’t know if this happened to you last year or not, but I turned another year older (43… still watching Glee?). Birthdays come and go without much fanfare these days; however, 43 was more stressful than the last few… because of the blog. I was pretty wrapped up in finding a new name for it, mainly since I was no longer going to be 42, but also because I discovered (much to my surprise) that maybe, just maybe, I did have a clue after all…

I know right? Pretty mind-blowing!

The first big change of 2012 came in January when I left my job. I worked at Urban Barn for 10 years, got my Tiffany ring and bolted for greener pastures… Actually, who am I kidding, it was nothing like that. After investing such a long time in a company and helping it grow from 10 to 40 stores you become pretty attached to its people and to its success. Leaving was never something I took lightly. Ultimately, it came down to passion. Sure, the job paid my mortgage, provided me with a comfortable living and helped pay for my new teeth (Chippy, Cracky, Blacky and Can-opener will NOT be missed) but it never truly excited me.  

I know a lot of people that hate their jobs and a few who actually love what they do; the difference is astounding. The quality of life for those who sincerely love their jobs versus those of us who are just going thru the motions? It’s night and day. I kept wondering when I was going to find my calling? When was I going to be “one of those people?” When was it going to be my turn?

Things changed when I let go of the fear. 

Monday, December 24, 2012

On Clues & Closets - Special Guest Post

clue
(kloo) noun
something that serves to guide or direct in the solution of a problem, mystery, etc.; his behaviour gave me a clue as to how I should proceed.

having a clue
(hav-ing a kloo) verb
a socially constructed state of being in which one has it all figured out, but which limits creativity and hinders diversity once attained; he’s 42 and still does not have a clue.

I’m 31, and much like Robbie, I still don’t have a clue – or at least not a solid one. You know, one of those clues you can really hold onto and run away with. The kind of clue that motivates you to eat your Wheaties in the morning and check your mutual funds in the afternoon (I don’t even really know what a mutual fund is – but I hope to, someday).

For now, clues are the stuff that dreams are made of. Or rather, clues and dreams are made of similar stuff. Scratch that – dreams rock, clues are for sell-outs. I’ll return to this point.

On my blog David Bothered (www.davidbothered.com), I write about some pretty big issues – religion, science, environmental conservation, self-actualization, you name it. I always write with the goal to inspire, and to offer alternative perspectives – no, to encourage alternative perspectives. We all have a tendency to get stuck, and getting stuck will get us nowhere (and certainly not any closer to a mutual fund).

But many roads lead to inspiration, and my blog is only one such road, tangled and twisted among a plethora of winding streets and rocky (even icy) paths. Robbie’s blog, 42…Still No Clue is another such road. And it has been with great pleasure that these two particular roads have had the opportunity to intersect.

I tend to get a little serious, whereas Robbie’s road to inspiration is humour – much to my admiration, I might add.

Saturday, December 08, 2012

The Soundtrack Of My Life


stupid
(stoo-pid) adjective
lacking intelligence or common sense: I am stupid.

fat
(fat) noun
a natural oily or greasy substance occurring in animals bodies, esp. when deposited as a layer under the skin or around certain organs: I am fat.

My brain has a default setting: I am stupid and fat. Like a diabolical jukebox that plays only “Barbie Girl” or “Achey Breaky Heart” until you want to pour battery acid in your ears, so goes my brain.     

It looks something like this: there is a miniature tape player located at the back of my head, snugly lodged in my cerebellum - yours may be an I-Pod if you’ve already had the upgrade. It hums a long, quietly forgotten, playing the dull everyday elevator music of my life until something happens that requires a more dramatic soundtrack. 

CLICK

WHIR

A new track plays…  It’s something more appropriate… It’s… Oh, it’s “You’re Stupid And Fat” again…