Are you getting everything you can out of this life?
A self-less, feel-good blog about love, life, and work by career coach and existential adventurer, Cliff Flamer
Your life is a great work of art.
It is one of a kind, twisting and turning, some of it intentional, some of it spontaneous, some of it luck. You’ve spent years on it.
So, when it shatters into hundreds/thousands/millions of pieces, it is devastating, to say the least.
Our bod… Read more...
It feels good. For them, and for you.
You become more connected to others. Mom, tell me how you met dad.
You live longer.
You can do things you didn’t think you could before.
You are capable of surprising yourself, which, regardless of timing or magnitude, is always a gift.
Lov… Read more...
I had a dream about my grandpa last night.
(In line with how most dreams go, it was weird.)
We were in Chicago. No idea how I knew that.
We passed a mini golf course, and I commented on how cool it looked.
“That’s the golf course I saw on TV. It has the longest putt in th… Read more...
“You’re an artist.”
He said it as a compliment, albeit a bit surprised to see me in this way. Me, the guy writing his resume.
I was busy brainstorming job titles with him. I came up with some ideas he hadn’t thought of. But the real artistry is the fact that… Read more...
I normally go right onto the freeway after I drop off Hazy, but I decided to go left today, which is the direction I used to go to drop Evs off at high school; the same road I took to drop Ziggy off at the groomers.
Maybe it was because I was digging the radio guy’s Irish ac… Read more...
I normally wouldn’t pick up during normal business hours, but I knew she’d be excited.
“I’m calling you from my new phone!”
“That’s awesome, Mom!” I would have faked excitement, but I didn’t have to.
“I love my new phone. Y… Read more...
After Hazel’s Power Tools Class (I love saying that!), we went to our fave Italian joint in El Cerrito, run by an Indian couple.
It’s become sort of a tradition.
There are only 4 tables in the restaurant, but there are always at least a few people sitting up at the bar … Read more...
One of my best friends from high school once pointed out how I like to think about my thoughts.
He’s right. I like to think about my memories too. And in both cases, I often misinterpret and misremember. I’m often wrong.
But, as it turns out, that’s not a bad thin… Read more...
When I was 5, my mom made me wear corrective shoes.
It was a special brand: Markell Workboots. They had a thick white (glowing?) sole and bright yellow showelaces. They looked like something an old-time cobbler made. No one else had them. I tried to cover them with my pant legs as… Read more...
I feel like the villains are scheming to blow up the planet from their rocketship, and I’m trapped in a basement tied to a sewer pipe.
I feel like someone cut off my hands, and they’re laughing at me through the walls.
I feel like the bomb shelters were not dug deep eno… Read more...