Goals
It’s good to have goals. Objectives of all sizes. Big ones. Learn telepathy from an alien race and restructure modern thought. Little ones. Get grandma through today without sneeze-shitting herself. And all the myriad sizes in between. Goal structures are beneficial and can offer guidance throughout the years. Don’t obsess though. No one likes a zealot. Seriously. When was the last time you met someone on the extremist fringe and thought, “Here’s someone I’d like to know better!” Balance, moderation and directed purpose toward a variety of life improving tasks. Easy. Or, as my father used to say, slick as snot through a glass funnel.
I always enjoyed the elementary school activities which were intended to offer insight upon later reflection, stories to yourself, wish lists, time capsules and the like. There is nothing so crystalline as the lens of youth to cut through the daily domes of horse shit we encounter. I am fortunate enough to have a mother who stored a great many of these creative endeavors for a very long time. In her honor, I humbly submit an excerpt from my third grade vision, and what could very well serve as an aegis of peace for all humankind.
The goals were:
Drive cars.
Drink beer.
And disco.
And love people.
What else is there, really? I particularly enjoy how my younger self felt the critical need to add ‘love people’ onto an already comprehensive, albeit selfish, list of goals.
Dream big folks and enjoy the simple things. I know I do…and did. Hell, I’ve already accomplished 75% of my third grade goals. Perhaps it’s finally time to go for it all.