From John Boy Walton to Michael Jordon and deep into the pockets of history yet unborn…the drive to strive is fed by pride and like any other addiction, reaching a pivotal point in ones personal discovery and acceptance requires the setting aside of the matter and materials that truly count in the only game we’re truly expected to play….life.
We’ve all be introduced to the masterminds of loyalty, dedication, determination and the fever pitch of greater than great, better than the best and in the end they ended up being lonely and or located in the next universe because the mind, body and soul system couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of constant demands and lack of self control.
We’ve spent the last one hundred years becoming the “Stuff” monster.
People work to buy more stuff…big stuff, little stuff, way the heck out there stuff like statues that feature no arms and carpets that are hung on the wall and never walked on. Our stuff includes bikes and boxes to put the bikes in when we’re no longer in the mood to ride. We have boxes for fake Christmas trees, Halloween decorations we haven’t seen in three years and computer parts and pieces we may one day need.
$12 billion a year is spent on keeping our stuff locked up in storage buildings that’ve redesigned their presentation almost becoming skyscrapers in what used to be private neighborhoods. Reports show we spend more on storing stuff than purchasing music; not to sound like my mother but, “The money to collect stuff has to come from somewhere.”
We choose to work one, two and sometimes up to three to five different jobs while tackling every task presented at the home front main dollar maker or as I call it: My biggest client.
In the book The Art of Power…Fredrick reached outward and beyond love to locate what he assumed was peace and serenity with his impeccable addiction to constantly working. He’s no different than many we’ve individually met along the way, all that is…is his and anything along the way is part of the game but he doesn’t truly participate. Basically meaning, he missed out on the major leagues of life’s delightful events such as his son’s graduation into the sixth grade, his wife’s bowling tournament where she picked up best high game and bowler of the year.
Although he’d never admit it, Fredrick became enslaved by his work.
Donald Trump, Warren Buffet, Oprah and Bill Gates may be this generation’s most profitable players but are they happy? Not as in money happy because in reality the only thing green gives you is an oversized lawn for someone else to mow. Lost is the tremendously important relationship between human and a passing squirrel or rabbit who are paid by Mother Nature to constantly keep an eye on her problem child the adult two legged man and or woman who spends more time thinking about themselves and not how it affects other items of life.
Fame, success and wealth are the assumed happy button. Too many believe that in order to attain that rightful passage one must become aligned with financial and political power. Sacrificed is the present for the sake of the future. Sadly the human spirit isn’t built to go any deeper than skin level when accepting daily adventures.
Painting this paragraph quickly reminds me of Geraldo who bravely walked up and asked, “What are you doing to invest in your life?”
Instantly I thought, “Please not here…I’m here to work the muscles not the mind and spirit.”
Because of his belief in martial arts, the open path has taught me to invest not in banking, mutual funds and stocks that are far from being more insecure than American’s fighting to keep their jobs…but in the self that these legs carry minute by minute quickly becoming years then decades.
Invest in friendship. Put energy in the eyes looking back at you in the mirror. He or she is your friend, more importantly; they’re the closest family member you’ve got. Teach yourself to become bright without having to rely on job positions and other titles to serve as a guide through dark alleys and squared boxes that feel as if they have no corners to lean on.
The secret of happiness is to nourish love everyday.
You can chase power until the cow jumps over the moon but that doesn’t guarantee pigs fly. Power is gained only through the expense of someone else. When there’s no love or deep motivation…the heart begins to locate false happiness. What are you willing to sacrifice to catch that unforgettable buzz? Warning: Such rushes may cause unexpected hangover’s that destroy someone else’s life.
If you can’t find the time to invest in your life…find a friend who has the courage to stand up to your addiction of working and teach them your weakest moments so that when you’re down and nearly out…they’ll become your mirrored image and softly ask, “Can we please get back to living?”
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Showing posts with label warren buffet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label warren buffet. Show all posts
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Selling out versus being happy
I don’t read novels, fairytales or books based on vampires, up and coming warlocks and witches or love stories so powerful they begin to affect late night dreams. I’m part of the flock that Barnes and Nobel, Boarders and Joseph Beth handle with true tenderness, compassionate love and honest care—the wanderers who’ve turned Warren Buffet’s adventures into heavenly praised guides and lines that an outsider might see as being more mighty than the big book itself.
Anthony Robbins says jump and 98.7% of his readers turn gravity into something they can climb, walk around or dig a tunnel under.
You don’t need John C Maxwell or former Philadelphia 76er’s owner Pat Croce to tell you that a successful life is based on how much focus you slam into the channels of effort. How many people do you know whose career and productive lives resemble a drug or gambling addict—a willing and able mind and body numb to the idea of introducing injury to themselves and those around them all in the name of touching, if but only for a second a sliver of success?
The majority locate such air holes inside books of business and motivation. Each are creatively crafted to play off self doubt, fear of failure and a need to be greedy without coming across that you’ve swiped from the planet what the 80’s band Tears for Fears used to claim that everybody wanted...to rule of the world.
Who and what pours fuel into the tanks of accomplishment?
Wouldn’t you have to know what accomplishment is first?
The owner of my favorite Chinese restaurant seems to unbelievably successful. His employees are constantly connected to three different telephones taking orders while he and four others stand at the counter greeting customers with great big smiles and quick delicious and flavorful rice, chicken and shrimp.
I asked him how it felt to be successful—he sat quickly and sharply replied, “Why would you assume I’ve made it big in business. I spend way too much time at work. I can’t keep a full staff, constantly hiring and the electric bill refuses to give me a break. Where in the average day do you see success in my business?”
The owner of a Greek restaurant is moving his mother from his homeland because he can no longer find the time or finances to visit her. The owner of several car dealerships looks at me with total stress in his eyes admitting that his biggest dream is to sell things off and get back to a simple life. A brilliant guitarist and producer whose been part of several new beginnings is beginning to allow an impossible measurement of success to seep into his aging fingers claiming its no longer fun nor profitable to dedicate so much energy to a career that will never reach his personal potential.
Why was my stepfather happy about being a welder? He was never embarrassed to admit that pasted chunks of junk together. One generation later, I find it extremely difficult to discuss what I do. I’m completely embarrassed by its presentation. It’s not the glamorous side of the radio biz that everybody assumes comes with a microphone and endless amounts of Lady Gaga and The Black Eyed Peas…I do the commercials.
To which people react with,“Ohhhhh I never hear them…I tune out…”
Exactly…hey did you know radio remains 100% free because of me? Hello? Come back! I can show you how to turn 80 seconds of talk, talk, talk into 30 seconds of I scored a great deal…did you see the size of that sale, sale sale?
Research shows the average working person wants instant success. One look at America’s Got Talent and So You Think You Can Dance and you’re introduced to the tears of faith loving performers who wanted to be recognized for their efforts by way of capturing what they see success as being.
Award winning actor Ben Kingsley wanted to be a rock star…his talent caught the attention of Beatles manager Brian Epstein who took the budding star straight to John Lennon—his response was mumbles, which Kingsley took as a message to get classically trained…once in school Ben fell in love with acting leaving behind his drive to write and perform music.
The 90’s boy band ‘N Sync was forced to leave America to find fans—they spent four years in Germany developing a following which went un-noticed until one day the Backstreet Boys stood up Disney—rather than leave fans dry, executives trusted a group of screaming girls and put on the German band with American roots…creating a force that continues by way of Justin Timberlake becoming one of the most influential performers of the new millennium.
I don’t read novels, fairytales or books based on vampires, up and coming warlocks and witches or love stories so powerful they begin to affect late night dreams. Real life carries with it every reason to believe that what you want to be, what you’re going to be and how you got into being are completely separate walks of life.
Is there anyone who wants to be simply happy?
Who and what pours fuel into the tanks of happiness?
Wouldn’t you have to know what happiness is first?
This is why I paint. Love blending colors on a canvas. Mont Blanc ink slipped between the rules that govern acrylics with a pinch of White Out creates a texture that cracks the essence of perfection.
Legendary artist Peter Max blanketed our 45 minute conversation with every reason why he couldn’t stand being a well educated artist…it was boring, so he let go and became happy masterminding thick, rich releases that have inspired four decades of rainbow chasing color collectors. Paul Stanley of Kiss, Evil Knievil, actress Jane Seymore, Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones and a mountain of other overworked, sold souls have located happiness by letting go.
That doesn’t say I quit. That’s far from telling people you aren’t the best. Letting go creates air to breathe. It makes the real you visible to the other image standing in the mirror. Letting go could very well be heaven on earth…because there’s no feeling better than the end result of something you created.
Your only job in life is to be you not give it away to a company whose only mission is to use you for their benefit then fire you.
Stand up…walk through that granite mountain and be you. If you think it sucks…then be the best at it because for some reason people who suck seem to be making it big in the world today. That’s not being negative…Jonha Hill and Russell Brand are scoring major amounts of money being anything but Hollywood legend like.
Open your eyes to you being you!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Anthony Robbins says jump and 98.7% of his readers turn gravity into something they can climb, walk around or dig a tunnel under.
You don’t need John C Maxwell or former Philadelphia 76er’s owner Pat Croce to tell you that a successful life is based on how much focus you slam into the channels of effort. How many people do you know whose career and productive lives resemble a drug or gambling addict—a willing and able mind and body numb to the idea of introducing injury to themselves and those around them all in the name of touching, if but only for a second a sliver of success?
The majority locate such air holes inside books of business and motivation. Each are creatively crafted to play off self doubt, fear of failure and a need to be greedy without coming across that you’ve swiped from the planet what the 80’s band Tears for Fears used to claim that everybody wanted...to rule of the world.
Who and what pours fuel into the tanks of accomplishment?
Wouldn’t you have to know what accomplishment is first?
The owner of my favorite Chinese restaurant seems to unbelievably successful. His employees are constantly connected to three different telephones taking orders while he and four others stand at the counter greeting customers with great big smiles and quick delicious and flavorful rice, chicken and shrimp.
I asked him how it felt to be successful—he sat quickly and sharply replied, “Why would you assume I’ve made it big in business. I spend way too much time at work. I can’t keep a full staff, constantly hiring and the electric bill refuses to give me a break. Where in the average day do you see success in my business?”
The owner of a Greek restaurant is moving his mother from his homeland because he can no longer find the time or finances to visit her. The owner of several car dealerships looks at me with total stress in his eyes admitting that his biggest dream is to sell things off and get back to a simple life. A brilliant guitarist and producer whose been part of several new beginnings is beginning to allow an impossible measurement of success to seep into his aging fingers claiming its no longer fun nor profitable to dedicate so much energy to a career that will never reach his personal potential.
Why was my stepfather happy about being a welder? He was never embarrassed to admit that pasted chunks of junk together. One generation later, I find it extremely difficult to discuss what I do. I’m completely embarrassed by its presentation. It’s not the glamorous side of the radio biz that everybody assumes comes with a microphone and endless amounts of Lady Gaga and The Black Eyed Peas…I do the commercials.
To which people react with,“Ohhhhh I never hear them…I tune out…”
Exactly…hey did you know radio remains 100% free because of me? Hello? Come back! I can show you how to turn 80 seconds of talk, talk, talk into 30 seconds of I scored a great deal…did you see the size of that sale, sale sale?
Research shows the average working person wants instant success. One look at America’s Got Talent and So You Think You Can Dance and you’re introduced to the tears of faith loving performers who wanted to be recognized for their efforts by way of capturing what they see success as being.
Award winning actor Ben Kingsley wanted to be a rock star…his talent caught the attention of Beatles manager Brian Epstein who took the budding star straight to John Lennon—his response was mumbles, which Kingsley took as a message to get classically trained…once in school Ben fell in love with acting leaving behind his drive to write and perform music.
The 90’s boy band ‘N Sync was forced to leave America to find fans—they spent four years in Germany developing a following which went un-noticed until one day the Backstreet Boys stood up Disney—rather than leave fans dry, executives trusted a group of screaming girls and put on the German band with American roots…creating a force that continues by way of Justin Timberlake becoming one of the most influential performers of the new millennium.
I don’t read novels, fairytales or books based on vampires, up and coming warlocks and witches or love stories so powerful they begin to affect late night dreams. Real life carries with it every reason to believe that what you want to be, what you’re going to be and how you got into being are completely separate walks of life.
Is there anyone who wants to be simply happy?
Who and what pours fuel into the tanks of happiness?
Wouldn’t you have to know what happiness is first?
This is why I paint. Love blending colors on a canvas. Mont Blanc ink slipped between the rules that govern acrylics with a pinch of White Out creates a texture that cracks the essence of perfection.
Legendary artist Peter Max blanketed our 45 minute conversation with every reason why he couldn’t stand being a well educated artist…it was boring, so he let go and became happy masterminding thick, rich releases that have inspired four decades of rainbow chasing color collectors. Paul Stanley of Kiss, Evil Knievil, actress Jane Seymore, Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones and a mountain of other overworked, sold souls have located happiness by letting go.
That doesn’t say I quit. That’s far from telling people you aren’t the best. Letting go creates air to breathe. It makes the real you visible to the other image standing in the mirror. Letting go could very well be heaven on earth…because there’s no feeling better than the end result of something you created.
Your only job in life is to be you not give it away to a company whose only mission is to use you for their benefit then fire you.
Stand up…walk through that granite mountain and be you. If you think it sucks…then be the best at it because for some reason people who suck seem to be making it big in the world today. That’s not being negative…Jonha Hill and Russell Brand are scoring major amounts of money being anything but Hollywood legend like.
Open your eyes to you being you!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Monday, March 8, 2010
Why do we treat our everyday like a 24 hour Monday?
If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
It’s Monday, springs in the air…the idea of continuing to push down the unlimited number of obstacles faced hourly raises higher than the cloud maker. One quick glance outside and without thought a giant sigh is released in the way of hoping that it’s cold enough to freeze time…to make it stop…if but for only a moment.
If it was to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
Are you near or far from a dream? Does it matter anymore?
Growing up, Mom constantly told us the number of steps she was behind yet I never saw her run. Maybe this is why I run all the time—never a game of catch up but rather caught up. Catching up means I fell behind. Caught up requires trust in the way of turning visions into reality…staying ahead of the game knowing if set aside then we’re playing pick up…from where you left off…if you’re lucky.
Seven months ago…when everything stopped, I quickly realized how unimportant 99.9% of the journey was. I wouldn’t read a book, I’d study it. If everything in life is a classroom, where’s the enjoyment? Music is no different—it’s my job to be in the know but you rarely if ever caught me listening to music outside radio’s four walls.
See how this game works!
I watch American Idol because it’s my job. I go to three to four movies a week because it’s my job. This is where you participate…where do you over exceed on your daily chores and choices that steal from the inches you wish and or want to grow? How do you correct the car that’s now out of control?
Click, click…32,000 computers suddenly bolted from this web page.
Nobody wants to deal with a flat tire, a shot timing chain or a low battery. Johnny Depp’s new flick Alice in Wonderland shows how we can’t stop the rock from falling off the rugged mountainside. The stuffy folks in the financial department felt Depp would steal $70 million from our pockets this past weekend…the final tally was $117 million.
And you wonder why the world of big brother corporate business refuses to believe there’s a recession taking place. They know you’ve got the cash and figure the best way to it is to cut back, cut back, cut back…because the more pain you endure the looser you are with your money. Nobody likes to feel bad and tiny mindless junk makes you feel richer than Warren Buffet and Bill Gates.
They won’t be happy until this nation stops…that’s when we’re going to be forced to look down at the dusty trail and figure out where are feet are currently standing.
A very dear friend stopped in for a visit—he’s not had a good life these past five years. Lost it all…I mean everything and more. I watched as he moved from neighbor to neighbor…he measured each of our paths with an invisible ruler, comparing every memory to this current state of reality only to realize the only difference any of us shared was the oldest child on the block had grown three inches. To him…nothing else changed.
He didn’t notice the 400,000 foot tree was missing from the front yard—the very limbs he and I heatedly argued for months over. My spiritual connection to trees meant nothing to him while his vow to protect the houses it could fall on carried no weight in my book. He didn’t take note of Bob missing from the pack…he passed a few months back, nor did he jot down a couple of notes about how silent everything seemed caused by fighters in the hood who’ve battled breast and lung cancer and heart attacks.
He was completely blasted away by three inches. Which made me think: If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing? If you were completely honest with yourself…how far have you truly traveled?
We hold pictures of a much skinnier self. We laugh about the moments easily called the good or better times. We slightly talk about the future knowing if we give it our everything your final page will still be written by the hand of a decision maker you’ll never meet. Bottom line is everything in the world of business—in the real world being in the back of the line is what created self check outs at the grocery store and Wal-Mart.
If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
For a billion years we’ve been warned about this country reaching a turning point—there’ll be two classes of people: Rich and poor. As much as we want to believe its taking place…we’re being overshadowed by sharper thorns on the paths of success: Want and don’t want.
We want it all but don’t want to do anything to get it. Then one day we suddenly stop…only to notice our feet are aching but the path is nonexistent.
Who won the Super Bowl? Who won American Idol last year? Who is the first woman to win an Oscar for Best Director? Where did you spend your money this past weekend? Name five things you did fun this past weekend! In two seconds tell me your second grade teacher’s name. If breathing is so important why do we rely on short breaths to get us through our day?
If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
A coworker laughed out loud at the top of his lungs when asked that and said to me, “It doesn’t matter where you’ll be…you’re dead!”
Is that the new American dream?
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
It’s Monday, springs in the air…the idea of continuing to push down the unlimited number of obstacles faced hourly raises higher than the cloud maker. One quick glance outside and without thought a giant sigh is released in the way of hoping that it’s cold enough to freeze time…to make it stop…if but for only a moment.
If it was to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
Are you near or far from a dream? Does it matter anymore?
Growing up, Mom constantly told us the number of steps she was behind yet I never saw her run. Maybe this is why I run all the time—never a game of catch up but rather caught up. Catching up means I fell behind. Caught up requires trust in the way of turning visions into reality…staying ahead of the game knowing if set aside then we’re playing pick up…from where you left off…if you’re lucky.
Seven months ago…when everything stopped, I quickly realized how unimportant 99.9% of the journey was. I wouldn’t read a book, I’d study it. If everything in life is a classroom, where’s the enjoyment? Music is no different—it’s my job to be in the know but you rarely if ever caught me listening to music outside radio’s four walls.
See how this game works!
I watch American Idol because it’s my job. I go to three to four movies a week because it’s my job. This is where you participate…where do you over exceed on your daily chores and choices that steal from the inches you wish and or want to grow? How do you correct the car that’s now out of control?
Click, click…32,000 computers suddenly bolted from this web page.
Nobody wants to deal with a flat tire, a shot timing chain or a low battery. Johnny Depp’s new flick Alice in Wonderland shows how we can’t stop the rock from falling off the rugged mountainside. The stuffy folks in the financial department felt Depp would steal $70 million from our pockets this past weekend…the final tally was $117 million.
And you wonder why the world of big brother corporate business refuses to believe there’s a recession taking place. They know you’ve got the cash and figure the best way to it is to cut back, cut back, cut back…because the more pain you endure the looser you are with your money. Nobody likes to feel bad and tiny mindless junk makes you feel richer than Warren Buffet and Bill Gates.
They won’t be happy until this nation stops…that’s when we’re going to be forced to look down at the dusty trail and figure out where are feet are currently standing.
A very dear friend stopped in for a visit—he’s not had a good life these past five years. Lost it all…I mean everything and more. I watched as he moved from neighbor to neighbor…he measured each of our paths with an invisible ruler, comparing every memory to this current state of reality only to realize the only difference any of us shared was the oldest child on the block had grown three inches. To him…nothing else changed.
He didn’t notice the 400,000 foot tree was missing from the front yard—the very limbs he and I heatedly argued for months over. My spiritual connection to trees meant nothing to him while his vow to protect the houses it could fall on carried no weight in my book. He didn’t take note of Bob missing from the pack…he passed a few months back, nor did he jot down a couple of notes about how silent everything seemed caused by fighters in the hood who’ve battled breast and lung cancer and heart attacks.
He was completely blasted away by three inches. Which made me think: If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing? If you were completely honest with yourself…how far have you truly traveled?
We hold pictures of a much skinnier self. We laugh about the moments easily called the good or better times. We slightly talk about the future knowing if we give it our everything your final page will still be written by the hand of a decision maker you’ll never meet. Bottom line is everything in the world of business—in the real world being in the back of the line is what created self check outs at the grocery store and Wal-Mart.
If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
For a billion years we’ve been warned about this country reaching a turning point—there’ll be two classes of people: Rich and poor. As much as we want to believe its taking place…we’re being overshadowed by sharper thorns on the paths of success: Want and don’t want.
We want it all but don’t want to do anything to get it. Then one day we suddenly stop…only to notice our feet are aching but the path is nonexistent.
Who won the Super Bowl? Who won American Idol last year? Who is the first woman to win an Oscar for Best Director? Where did you spend your money this past weekend? Name five things you did fun this past weekend! In two seconds tell me your second grade teacher’s name. If breathing is so important why do we rely on short breaths to get us through our day?
If you were to suddenly stop…where would your feet be left standing?
A coworker laughed out loud at the top of his lungs when asked that and said to me, “It doesn’t matter where you’ll be…you’re dead!”
Is that the new American dream?
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Whatever happened to Red Rover Red Rover?
Remember the days when getting in trouble with the parental figures constantly landed you face to face in a puddle of the same old hard driving speech, “If your friend Simon told you to jump…you would.”
To which you’d sharply reply, “No I wouldn’t! I have better control of my life!”
Where along the paths of choice and bad decisions do we grasp onto the confidence required to halt the process of listening? I may not have been a drug user or wild teen breaking into homes and stealing bikes in high school but when it came to checking my parents into the insane asylum…nobody could do it better than me, because I was the black sheep nobody suspected.
I stole the dollar from mom’s purse to purchase my first record. Playing that record over and over opened my imagination to a world of constant performance. It became my addiction to be on stage and like all things we’re attracted to, it’s amazing what we’ll steal as well as sell to continue feeding that incredible wow, wow wowy.
In essence, the book I wrote last year Conversation with the Devil is based loosely on that single moment that fed the flow of over-confidence into the veins of do it or lose it. The man in the black hat stopped by a radio station studio to reclaim what originally belonged to him and the Disc Jockey was completely taken back by such an accusation. And don’t you think I’m not reminded of it every Wednesday morning when the pastors and spiritual leaders of several congregations come into my studio to record their affirmations.
31 years of radio that started with Simon telling me where to find a buck to purchase The Streak from Ray Stevens. Of all the songs! Why didn’t I wait a couple more musical seasons and latch onto Hotel California? I could look better at the gates of Heaven and Hell holding a classic.
Simon told me to jump and I did.
Kind of like Alice who found it fascinating to chase a scurrying bunny through the trees then straight down a hole. Once the tummy tingling sensation of falling settled, she calmly picked herself up, walked around the room of locked doors. Surely there has to be a key! Once discovered Alice struggles to fit through an itty bitty tinny tiny door and can’t. Discouraged, it becomes a frantic moment searching for an answer…only to find a bottle that reads: Drink me. No directions. No doctor! Not even a slight guilt to hold her back.
She drank the Kool Aid.
Alice listened to Simon and jumped. Being the world’s biggest Johnny Depp fan I totally get why she jumped because without a doubt and absolutely no thought poured into a cup of common sense I’d drink the tea too. But that’s a different story for a different day and like always we’re late, we’re late; we’re late for a very important date.
The moment Alice reaches for the bottle and gulps it down like a drunk begging to hold a long term buzz with no hangover—it became clear to me how perfectly rounded Tim Burton’s fruit is…the master of dark and cartoonish has painted a portrait that describes 99.9999% of who, what, where, when, how and why we are the way we are during these days that make up the third month in the year two thousand ten.
Warren Buffet says you need to buy stocks and mutual funds. You do. Jimmy Buffett says you need more beer. You do. The lunch time buffet features more food than your Momma’s Thanksgiving feast…its screaming, “Eat! Eat! Eat!” And so you do.
Hmmm that flew over your head. Let me try that again: Your boss says do it or you’re fired. So you do. Your kids tell you to do it or they’re making more noise than the airport on Christmas day. You do it. The image in the mirror at the mall store claims $300 for a beautiful dress will break the bank and make you late on many payments but you live only once…do it now because there are three invisible people behind you that want the same dress and they’re all you’re size. Yes! You do it!
Where along the paths of choice and bad decisions do we grasp onto the confidence required to halt the process of listening?
What constitutes a bad decision? In the world of birds, frogs and snakes…although I’ve never done it…one who participates in the celebration of watered down hops and other green leafy things might be looked upon as being the king of loving Mother Earth with no need to step into a world of man made chemically created escapes the FDA has labeled free and clear of harm and destruction.
I’ve been blasted with winter sickness for seven incredibly long and way way out there strong weeks. Been to three different doctors and a specialist and under their leadership I’m on my fourth antibiotic laced with steroids…and the sickness is worse than what it was when it began. Simon said jump and I did.
Will any of these highly paid medically trained imaginations ever look back and feel guilty about ripping off the people that trusted them? I can barely look into the eyes of a visiting minister knowing the reason why I’m in a radio station studio is because I swiped a dollar bill from my mother to purchase The Streak and now I’m worried about whether I’m wasting a lot of energy on something that should’ve been forgotten a billion light years ago.
The web pages you surf say click…do you? Because Simon told you to jump. Recession? Unemployment? High gas prices? Veterinarians who create problems with your pet and make you pay for them instantly in the name of keeping their doors open? Are these the worst of times?
Simon didn’t say jump…
So we keep walking toward a horizon rumored to be there.
Lord have mercy…I need a Starbucks…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
To which you’d sharply reply, “No I wouldn’t! I have better control of my life!”
Where along the paths of choice and bad decisions do we grasp onto the confidence required to halt the process of listening? I may not have been a drug user or wild teen breaking into homes and stealing bikes in high school but when it came to checking my parents into the insane asylum…nobody could do it better than me, because I was the black sheep nobody suspected.
I stole the dollar from mom’s purse to purchase my first record. Playing that record over and over opened my imagination to a world of constant performance. It became my addiction to be on stage and like all things we’re attracted to, it’s amazing what we’ll steal as well as sell to continue feeding that incredible wow, wow wowy.
In essence, the book I wrote last year Conversation with the Devil is based loosely on that single moment that fed the flow of over-confidence into the veins of do it or lose it. The man in the black hat stopped by a radio station studio to reclaim what originally belonged to him and the Disc Jockey was completely taken back by such an accusation. And don’t you think I’m not reminded of it every Wednesday morning when the pastors and spiritual leaders of several congregations come into my studio to record their affirmations.
31 years of radio that started with Simon telling me where to find a buck to purchase The Streak from Ray Stevens. Of all the songs! Why didn’t I wait a couple more musical seasons and latch onto Hotel California? I could look better at the gates of Heaven and Hell holding a classic.
Simon told me to jump and I did.
Kind of like Alice who found it fascinating to chase a scurrying bunny through the trees then straight down a hole. Once the tummy tingling sensation of falling settled, she calmly picked herself up, walked around the room of locked doors. Surely there has to be a key! Once discovered Alice struggles to fit through an itty bitty tinny tiny door and can’t. Discouraged, it becomes a frantic moment searching for an answer…only to find a bottle that reads: Drink me. No directions. No doctor! Not even a slight guilt to hold her back.
She drank the Kool Aid.
Alice listened to Simon and jumped. Being the world’s biggest Johnny Depp fan I totally get why she jumped because without a doubt and absolutely no thought poured into a cup of common sense I’d drink the tea too. But that’s a different story for a different day and like always we’re late, we’re late; we’re late for a very important date.
The moment Alice reaches for the bottle and gulps it down like a drunk begging to hold a long term buzz with no hangover—it became clear to me how perfectly rounded Tim Burton’s fruit is…the master of dark and cartoonish has painted a portrait that describes 99.9999% of who, what, where, when, how and why we are the way we are during these days that make up the third month in the year two thousand ten.
Warren Buffet says you need to buy stocks and mutual funds. You do. Jimmy Buffett says you need more beer. You do. The lunch time buffet features more food than your Momma’s Thanksgiving feast…its screaming, “Eat! Eat! Eat!” And so you do.
Hmmm that flew over your head. Let me try that again: Your boss says do it or you’re fired. So you do. Your kids tell you to do it or they’re making more noise than the airport on Christmas day. You do it. The image in the mirror at the mall store claims $300 for a beautiful dress will break the bank and make you late on many payments but you live only once…do it now because there are three invisible people behind you that want the same dress and they’re all you’re size. Yes! You do it!
Where along the paths of choice and bad decisions do we grasp onto the confidence required to halt the process of listening?
What constitutes a bad decision? In the world of birds, frogs and snakes…although I’ve never done it…one who participates in the celebration of watered down hops and other green leafy things might be looked upon as being the king of loving Mother Earth with no need to step into a world of man made chemically created escapes the FDA has labeled free and clear of harm and destruction.
I’ve been blasted with winter sickness for seven incredibly long and way way out there strong weeks. Been to three different doctors and a specialist and under their leadership I’m on my fourth antibiotic laced with steroids…and the sickness is worse than what it was when it began. Simon said jump and I did.
Will any of these highly paid medically trained imaginations ever look back and feel guilty about ripping off the people that trusted them? I can barely look into the eyes of a visiting minister knowing the reason why I’m in a radio station studio is because I swiped a dollar bill from my mother to purchase The Streak and now I’m worried about whether I’m wasting a lot of energy on something that should’ve been forgotten a billion light years ago.
The web pages you surf say click…do you? Because Simon told you to jump. Recession? Unemployment? High gas prices? Veterinarians who create problems with your pet and make you pay for them instantly in the name of keeping their doors open? Are these the worst of times?
Simon didn’t say jump…
So we keep walking toward a horizon rumored to be there.
Lord have mercy…I need a Starbucks…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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