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
I love to party. Always have.
And I’ve come to love partying so much, I even love the day after the party.
Molls and I will be laying in bed, slowly waking up, a little groggy, voice hoarse from shouting and singing all night. The both of us, laying on our backs, recycling th… Read more...
Squirming on the couch like a fish out of water, Hazel let out the refrain I knew was coming, the words all kids have howled out to their parents in a torturous tone:
“I’m sooooo BORED.”
Okay.
I, on the other hand, was not.
I’d just finished trimming the folia… Read more...
I got a dad who acted like a backhoe operator on Sunday mornings to scoop us up out of bed and carry us to the bathroom to brush our teeth.
I got a dad who, when he watched cartoons with us on the family room floor, laughed out loud so hard that he would buckle over with an elbow … Read more...
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...
“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 woke into a groggy half-sleep with a pain in my chest.
Seduced by the warmth of the covers and the elusive intoxication of drowsiness, I convinced myself that the best thing to do was to stay put and do some deep breathing.
I breathed in and out, and in my sleep-stupor, I imagine… Read more...
My parents were always so inventive with my birthdays. They were mostly at my house or in my backyard, not extravagant, no visiting Disney Princesses or anything, but they were far from average.
The first one I remember is around 4 or 5. My mom made red capes and put our names on … Read more...
Is a writer who doesn’t write still a writer?
Is a musician who doesn’t play still a musician?
What about a filmmaker? If they’re not making films, are they still a filmmaker?
In other words, does being an artist run deeper than the deliverables?
Are artists walking… 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...