My wife gave me this as a gift years ago. It currently hangs in our dining room.
I had big plans.
I was writing a beer blog, thinking I was going to be the next Jay Brooks. This was going to fit right into it. I even wrote a post about it.
Great plan, right? Get my site a little more exposure, give some breweries around the country a little more exposure, and I complete this art project and get some free beer to boot! Genius!
The more eagle-eyed among you may have noticed, this didn’t get very far. I think ONE brewery actually sent me some caps, but otherwise, nada. Turns out there were a few flaws in my plan:
- I did NO work promoting my blog, so basically nobody saw this. I did message some breweries directly, but otherwise I was screaming into the Grand Canyon.
- Bottles would eventually move to the endangered species list. Not a whole lotta caps floating around out there anymore.
- Depression.
[I’m hoping this blog won’t turn into an endless series of whines about how unmotivated I am, but it’s just kinda front of mind right now, so here we are.]
It doesn’t take a doctorate in literature to see the metaphor here. This nearly toothless piece of art is a visual reminder of how most of my projects go, a fact that was brought home the other day when, in a major feat of procrastination, I organized my digital sock drawer and went through all the crap strewn about my laptop.
As I was adding folders, moving things around, throwing things away, yet another visual reminder emerged — the number of online courses I’ve never finished. Especially my latest one. I plunked down serious $$$ this time, thinking that would be enough motivation. Got about 85% through it, then the work got real, and that was that.
And not just courses — planners, hacks, cheat-sheets, Infographs, checklists, resumés, they’re all in there. All the things that were going to transform my work and make me uber-productive.
And as I look around my home, even more reminders emerge.
The Peloton — my wife loves it, uses it religiously. I was going to, as well. Got my own account, plunked down more $$$ for the Special Shoes and extra padded shorts and seat for my bony behind, and rode it for … a while. Even when I stopped doing that, I was going to at LEAST do the cardio, yoga, and stretching.
Nope, nope, and nope. Not even after spending even more $$$ on a mat, blocks, and roller.
(I don’t even want to know what might living in those shoes by now.)
The garage — in better days I’d clean and reorganize it now and then. Now it’s completely overgrown, with just enough space carved into it to fit A car. What’s even worse is this massive junk pile has been generated by our massive household of … two people.
And don’t get me started on the hall closet. Actually, that is the problem — I never started on it. We could really use the storage, but it’s so musty smelling we don’t keep anything in there we actually use. It’s just a dumping ground for things we don’t really need but can’t bring ourselves to toss.
Of course I know I’m far from the only person afflicted with this — this is the self-improvement industry’s business model. Quick fix doesn’t work, so try another one. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But a new year brings new optimism. I’m confident that, with the help of my therapist, I will save myself from a life filled with missing bottle caps. It’s a nice thought, at least.
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