I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want...

It's amazing to me that people have life plans. Whenever I state a "life plan" or make a plan it has never come anywhere close to what I state. My new job keeps pressing me for a very simple question to which I have yet to answer. "Where do you want to be in 3 years?" I tell them simple career goals – achieve success with this new company, prove my worth, make an impactful difference in the healthcare space.

They don't buy it.

Now, first off, that's a damn shame because all those are 100% true. But they want more. I guess I've become too good and trying to not mix business with pleasure – although if you saw me work, you'd think the exact opposite. I loved my last job when I was running the culture for my office because I got to infuse some of my favorite things – cocktail contests, scavenger hunts, ice cream sundae parties. My first annual review actually revolved around the open house my company threw, that I got to help spearhead. I called in my DC's finest – chef, decorator, etc. to help me create a successful bash.

And yet, I can't answer a simple question.  Or can I?

The truth is I stopped allowing myself to dream a long time ago. Part of me got shut down when it came to possibilities. I can create some fun company ideas – actually I can create a new company idea just about every day – a worksite wellness program with dogs as physical activity ambassadors, a smores stand in Key West, a place solely dedicated to de-stressing by whatever means you'd like – either breaking things ala Office Space style or throwing paint and creating a stressful masterpiece of color.

I'd do any of those.

So what do I want?

I want to be loved and have love. (Right now, this is a check – we may just make this one).

I want to not stress and work as hard as I do right now. (fail)

I want to make something of 11 years of writing my life down for no one to read. (fail)

I want to finally be fucking healthy (HUGE fail right now – stay tuned for the future of Utie come Fall 2015)

I want to make vacation a regular part of my life and not take it solely when I'm breaking down. (FAIL)
I want to live exactly where I live now and work harder to build it into an even more kick ass home. (Progress – half check).

I want to continue to have my friends, family and those I adore by my side, because that's what matters most to me.

As for the rest, well, who the hell knows? If you told me at 22, that I'd be part of the biggest diet phenomenon and largest story outside of 9/11 and Iraq, I would've cried from laughter. Because up until getting hired the same day I walked in, I was headed to be a filmmaker. If you told me that later, I was going to move to DC have one job I loved more than life itself but leave for something that transformed me into this crazy PR person… I wouldn't have bought that either. If someone said that I was going to leave DC and move home, alter my life completely… still no. And if you told me a year ago, that I was going to be at a company where people start to shake at 5 pm sans cocktail, well… ok, maybe that I'd believe. If you told me that same job was going to have me up at 6:45 am so I could drive a golf cart until I learn how to play golf, well, yea, let's just hope I don't break anything on myself or the client.

I just never relied upon plans, I'd rather just see where the road takes me because I've never created the twists and turns myself… they just seem to happen. I had to laugh when my boss told me that my answer was too "predictable." I looked her in the eye and said, if you knew anything about me, you'd know how unpredictable my life is. The only thing I can predict is that I will work hard - well, I guess you can also add that I will fall or injure myself in some way too. But, I'll get back up. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I know how ridiculous that sounds to an employer now that I'm typing it, but, those that truly know me, know how true that statement is.

Who would've predicted me getting divorced, leaving my job and getting a new job in under a week? Who would've said that a day later my house would be under 8 trees because of a tornado? Or that 12 hours later I'd be flying to Rhode Island, only to get bit by some insect that left me with infections? And that under a week after that, my superhero would be administering an IV while I lay in a hospital gurney?

You can't make this shit up, people. But I can continue to write about it.

So, I do.

Smooches,

G