I just finished reading Brain Tracy’s Goals, which is sort of like The Secret without all the crazy.
One of the book’s main themes is that in order to achieve your goals, you have to get specific about what you are trying to accomplish. Doy, right?
The author says you should write down your 10 to 15 major goals every day. At first, I thought that writing them down every day would just be busy work. But, I’ve been doing it for the last few weeks and it’s been really amazing.
The key is to not refer to yesterday’s list when you write up today’s list. This forces you to go through the thought process again and again of basically deciding what it is that you really want to do right now. You can’t do everything, you have to choose what’s going to make the list, and what’s going to get weeded out. Because you are rewriting the list everyday, you end up drilling that top ten list into your mind and you end up thinking about your goals a lot more during your daily activities.
The author says that after about a month or so of honing your list, you will reach a point where you list becomes almost identical every day. I’m pretty close to that point now.
These might change a bit over the coming days and weeks, but for today, these are (some of)…
Dave’s goals for these next four months:
- I communicate sincerely with my Heavenly Father through prayer at least twice daily by December 31, 2008.
- I read the Book of Mormon cover to cover by December 31, 2008.
- I attend the temple with Holly at least once each month by December 31, 2008.
- I go out with Holly (no kids!) once a week by December 31, 2008.
- I have no debt (other than our mortgage) by December 31, 2008.
- I have (and hold to) healthy eating habits by December 31, 2008.
- I run five times a week by December 31, 2008.
- I lift weights five times a week by December 31, 2008.
- I weigh 170 pounds (or less) by December 31, 2008.
- I launch the side project (that I’ve been daydreaming about for the last two years) by December 31, 2008.
There it is. It’s now public. All three of our readers will mock me in the street if I don’t follow through with these goals.
I was reading a few of our old posts this morning when I stumbled on the brief—seemingly temporary—birthday post that Holly wrote for me on my birthday. In it, she promised that there was “more to come later.” I searched through all the other posts since then and wasn’t able to find this “more” that she mentioned. Hmmm. I did find her ode to James McAvoy though. So, that’s something.
I’m a nerd.
I don’t mean that I’m a “a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person” (thank you, dictionary.com)—although, I suppose whether or not that definition fits me is debatable. I mean that I, at times, can be a bit of “an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit” (thanks again, d.c).
See? I just called a website by a nickname! A nickname that I made up for it! NERDY.
(It’s pronounced “dee dot cee” by the way.)
Yikes. That was even nerdier. I just gave instruction on the correct pronunciation of a nickname I made up for website. A reference website! Let’s just move on…
My nonsocial hobbies are numerous and embarassing. I get excited about movies based on toys and comic books. I read comic books. I (mis)quote Star Wars. I watch Gilmore Girls. I have theories about Lost. I listen to podcasts about internet security. I listen to podcasts, full stop. I play addictive online games involving bricks and sleds. I write long-winded blog posts full of links and sentences ending with phrases like “full stop.”
These are nerdy things.
Or are they?
Now that I’ve written all this out and had a chance to look it over, my evidence of nerdity doesn’t stand up too well. Nonsocial? Check. Single-minded and intelligent? Not so much.
Hmm. Maybe I’ll go back to the first definition.
P.S. Here’s one last link: I’m not sure what to do with this.
P.P.S. Forget what I said about watching Gilmore Girls.
Dave has been forced to divide his attention all night between me and the iPhone. I must say, he has given me ample attention. I’m satisfied. But maybe, just maybe, he’s buttering me up so that he can get one of his own. If we could, I would so let him get one—he works many, many long hours. He deserves one.
How about one made out of cardboard for now, hon?
Today marks five years of our marriage.
I love you Dave.
P.S. Happy tenth Anniversary to Beth & Fo’ou today too!
Update: The following happened to Dave (not Holly). We apologize for the confusion. 
This last Sunday, after unloading our girls, diaper bags, manuals, scriptures, and kitchen sinks from the car and heading into our local chapel (Right on time, of course! And by “right on time,” I mean “20 minutes late.”), I paid a quick visit to the men’s restroom.
As I was leaving (still in the doorway), a fellow church-goer passed in front of me, moving quickly. I took a step back and to the left in an effort to avoid a collision. In doing so, I unknowingly hooked one of my back pockets onto the claw-like handle of a drawer that was built into the hallway wall—just to the left to the restroom door. I began to walk away (in my memory, this next part happens in slow-motion) and the inevitable ripping sound followed. I stopped. One of my eyes twitched involuntarily. I felt a light breeze on the back of my legs, that under normal circumstances, would have been refreshing, but in these abnormal circumstances, was most certainly not.
Questions raced through my mind. Who puts a drawer in a chapel hallway? Right by a bathroom? Who uses this drawer? What on earth is in it? Does the Bishop ever pause in the middle of an early-morning meeting and say, “Now, where did we put those files?” and then hear his Executive Secretary respond, “Oh, they’re in the hallway drawer. You know, the one by the bathroom. With the claw-like handle.”
When he was drawing up the plans, did the architect of this chapel foresee me, years later, standing there, pale-faced and ventilated, in his corridor of shame and laugh maniacally? I’ll bet he did.
I covered my back-side with a church manual, shuffled out of the building, drove home, and changed pants. Did I return to church that day? Yes. Did I return with dignity? No. No, I did not.
I had a dream the night before last that a bunch of people dressed up as condiments (ketchup bottle, mustard, salt and pepper shakers, etc.) were running a foot race. The condiment suits were huge, bulky getups—like baseball mascot outfits—and everyone was really struggling to run in them. The ketchup bottle guy’s suit was taller than the others and his bottle top got snagged by a low-hanging wire, which knocked him to the ground.
For some reason, I thought this was the funniest thing in the world and I started laughing in my sleep so hard that I shook the bed and woke Holly up. She asked me what was going on, and still half-asleep, I told her what I had dreamt. I continued to laugh—seriously, harder than I’ve ever laughed before—for another five minutes. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t say three words before erupting into another burst of laughter. The absurdity of all this caused Holly to start laughing to, which only made me laugh harder. It wasn’t until I splashed some water on my face and completely woke up that I could physically stop laughing.
Holly has been making fun of me non-stop ever since.
I just noticed that an online personality quiz that I designed (at work) recently made the front page of abc.com. Well, actually, a very tiny promo for the quiz made the front page. Not exactly a major life milestone, but still kind of cool.
MyHeritage Face Recognition: A wonderful blend of fun and public humiliation.
