“…it happens too fast.  You trade your passion for glory.  Don’t lose your grip on the dreams of the past.  You must fight just to keep them alive…”


Oh, that song.  If I had a dollar for every time I heard it I would be one rich woman, lemme tell ya’.  Eye of the Tiger.  Rocky.  Rocky IV.  The scene in the black Lamborghini after Adrian tells him he can’t win.  The training scene in Russia. In the barn.


Sorry!  Got lost in my thoughts there for a second!

You know, one of the only times I remember going to the movies as a family growing up was going to see Rocky IV.  I sat by my dad.  He took every punch Rocky did.  And he ate my candy.

I was 8.

Man, me at 8 was something else.  (I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to my family and close friends.)  I was a beast.  Pretty much, I was the size I am now and was grumpy as hell all the time.  I didn’t like to wear pants.  I was stubborn.  I had headaches a lot.  In my defense, I had some pretty severe allergies- or “allergies” as my brother likes to refer to them- but honestly, I was just audacious as hell.

I don’t know how many of you have seen the movie Hope Floats, but in it, Justin Matisse (Harry Connick Jr) says the following to Birdee Calvert (Sandra Bullock)-

“You used to be so…I don’t know…Audacious.  Bold.  People would stop to watch you come down the street. “Here comes that Birdee Calvert.”   Their eyes would light up. You could see it on their faces.  You think you’ve lost that but I can still see it.”

I wonder how many of us feel like we’ve traded our passion for glory. Like we’ve lost our grip on our dreams.   I wonder how many of us feel like we’ve lost that boldness, that audacity.  Like the world, adulthood, responsibility, political correctness and the shitload of other C.R.A.P. we deal with on a regular basis has leached something out of us.

Somewhere along the way that girl I was, the one who’d throw things when she got mad and call a spade a spade regardless of the consequence,  faded into a peacekeeper of a woman.  One who was still gutsy on the inside but was worried about stepping on people’s toes on the outside.

Some may call that maturing.

Me?  I call it caving.

Looking back, I can see where it all started to go wrong.  I can also see where it started to go right again.

See, getting organized isn’t just about knowing where to find your keys. It’s not just about opening your closet and finding each garment sorted by type and arranged ROYGBIV style.  (I heard indigo no longer makes the list but eff that.  Indigo’s on MY list.)   It’s about getting a handle on all those teeny tiny details in life so your passion doesn’t get traded in for something less…more…for something that will pay the mortgage but leave your soul empty.  It’s about getting all your ducks in a row so you actually have the time, energy and spark to be who you REALLY are.  Not some beaten down version of yourself.  Not some swallowed up by the world version of yourself. Just…YOU. You’ll start to feel good about yourself again.  Start feeling empowered. Confident.  Successful.  Ditching all that unnecessary C.R.A.P. – tangible and intangible-will free you up to just…be who you REALLY are.

I dunno about you but I want all the details of my life sorted out enough that I can be sassy.  And kind.  And speak the truth in love.

I wanna be uncluttered enough to have the eye of the tiger.  Why the hell do you think Rocky trained in Russia anyway?