This year was a great year. A learning year, no doubt, 2011 saw more highs than lows, a plethora of new experiences, a couple of memorable professional accomplishments, new friends and deeper relationships with old ones, a spiritual reevaluation, love with a little pain, and hard-earned personal growth.
Oh, and I also realized what I simply, absolutely, definitely want and need to do before I leave this planet. No big deal.
I’m excited for 2012. My projection is that it will be a year for commitment. Yes, the big C. What else are you supposed to do but commit after you’ve had a year like mine?
Here’s to appreciating the experiences and lessons of 2011, and to making 2012 even better.
Everyone has a skill to be valued.
More often than not, we condemn and replace and are again disappointed, when the truth is that our expectations are often misconstrued and our objectives are too narrow.
Leadership is only an appropriately-placed responsibility when it is given to those with a genuine interest in others.
“I consider my ability to arouse enthusiasm among my people the greatest asset I possess, and the way to develop the best that is in a person is by appreciation and encouragement…I am hearty in my approbation and lavish in my praise.”
-Charles M. Schwab
Dig, discover and be delighted.
[Dedicated to someone who lives this truth more instinctively than I could ever teach it.]
[Quite literally] on my to-do list for this week: “Research sleeping less”
What this shorthanded to-do list item implies:
Research how to maintain six or less hours of sleep per night naturally, without necessitating a caffeine habit, while maintaining optimal health, without seeing double, and while providing a clear mind during waking hours.
Pursuing Opportunity demands sacrifice. At the end of it all, the greatest tragedy will not be a few hours of sleep lost.
The greatest tragedy will be missing out on the opportunities that are [impatiently, restlessly, anxiously] waiting for you while you’re sleeping.
Wake up. It’s time to make things happen.
Dear [loyal?] [blog readers?],
I have five blog posts queued up, but have been on an incredibly exhausting and productive creative binge all week and am suffering from a massive lack of sleep. So, I am currently unable to make the determination of whether or not they make sense and/or are post-worthy. Therefore, in the queue they stay, for now.
In lieu of uber-analyses, here’s a post on…forget it, I can’t even form a formal introduction. I hope it makes sense, and more importantly, makes you evaluate all of the “stuff” in your space.
I have calculated 15 moves in my 23 years of life, at minimum. Eight of these instances were in the past five years. Through the years and moves, I’ve tossed a lot of “stuff.” When I was younger, this usually involved treating each possession like a best friend I will forever miss and will probably necessitate hours of therapy in my 30’s to get over. Today, tossing “stuff” is a hobby I delight greatly in, so much so that I sometimes wonder if I’m tossing too much (I never am).
Below is some “stuff” I’ve tossed throughout the years. Maybe some of this “stuff” is wasting space in your space as well.
No, I do not need the entire line of Bath & Body Works body sprays and lotions (I like vanilla candles, not smelling like a vanilla candle).
No, I will never use that hotel shampoo, even if it’s from some fancy resort (I know all about private labeling, thankyouverymuch).
No, I do not need five bottles of aloe vera (thanks to Arizona-conditioned skin/sun smarts/good genes/healthy fear of premature wrinkles).
No, I will never [again] wear body glitter (well, never say never. But Walgreens will always provide).
And no, I will never go to a costume party THAT specific.
However, I have kept essentially every Valentine’s/birthday/miscellaneous card since I was 6. Nothing says childhood memories like the “Will you be my girlfriend circle yes or no” card I got from the ‘second hottest boy in third grade’, on my first day in a new school, while silently crying at my desk, with artwork commissioned by his best friend I later dated in fifth grade (a.k.a. held hands with once at recess), and got me black-listed by the popular girls for the next 2.5 years.
Until my next move.