3 Step Program3 step program3 Step Program by lizjane
I started running a few years ago. 39 years old and I had never ran before in my life. Through this truly painful experience of learning how to run, I discovered something about myself. I am excellent at setting myself up for failure and making myself miserable. Instead of crawling into a hole, I decided to use this knowledge to help others. I created a program. The 3 step program to guaranteed failure and absolute misery.
Mister Contest Toastmaster, Fellow Toastmasters and honored guests. This evening I will share with you my 3 step program along with real-life examples. Soon, you too will be able to feel like a failure and beat yourself up about it.
Let’s get started
Step #1, set unrealistic goals
Make sure you set goals that you have no way of possibly accomplishing. Earlier this year I ran a 5k race, that’s about 3 miles. The race was advertised as being very hilly and muddy – more difficu
TheTroubleThere's some major trouble with me, you see ...TheTrouble by AggroMiau
Cause I don't wanna be alone, but I just can't get along.
...always quarrel ~ always pain...
Guilt and Rage driving me much more insane than I already am.
I try to keep a constant wall between my heart and the others at all.
But nonetheless I long so much for their comfort and their touch.
Loneliness tears me apart, but to build up relations I dare not to start.
I've never learned the basic rules of socializing in my youth.
All that I know now about life ... this bitter wisdom had a salty price...
It's still daring me to fake and hide my 'real me' for myself.
... if I had just any idea which part of me is 'realy me'...
CHAPTER THREE: ANGERCHAPTER THREE: ANGERCHAPTER THREE: ANGER by S-C-O-R-C-H-95
In the shadow of another dying day on a small patch of land protected from the wind by Bishop's hotel, the townspeople gathered. They were still, sand slowly burying their feet as if it were trying to drag them under. The shutters of the hotel rattled and the whole town gently creaked as the wind insensitively broke the silence. It whistled and whooshed across the tops of dunes; slowly taking what they were bit by bit and creating something similar but new in another place. Bishop stood strong and silent staring over his son's coffin and beyond the hazy horizon. On Bishop's right Kendry stood staring at the coffin, guilt continuing its attempt to overwhelm him, and on Bishop's left his wife shook gently against his arm; her face was the wettest thing for miles. The rest of the townspeople, whom all knew each other like family, comforted one another with shoulders to cry on and gentle touches. That is, except for one, unique individual who lingered at the back, in l
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