The T‑Shirt That Sums Me Up
I saw a phrase the other day that absolutely sums up my entire existence. I need it on a T‑shirt, a mug, maybe even a bumper sticker (if I still had a car).
Aim High and Fail Big.
Honestly? If there were Olympic medals for enthusiastic misfires, I’d have a shelf full of gold.
Never a Boring Moment
Looking back — which is allowed because I’m officially “old enough to reflect” — I can say with confidence that my life has been… let’s call it eventful. Not always successful, not always sensible, but never dull.
I’ve always believed life should be lived fully. Sometimes that means doing things that terrify me just to see what they’re like. Am I an adrenaline junkie? Not really. I draw the line at jumping out of planes. Zip‑lining looked fun, but my joints now file formal complaints if I even think about impact sports.
College: High Hopes, Low Follow‑Through
Let’s start with college. Before that, my parents kept me more or less contained. Then came freedom — and the 60s/70s. Flower children, protests, Kent State, the whole wild swirl.
By my rural upbringing standards, I was a Wild Child. In reality, I was just high on trying new things and low on studying. I dropped out after two years. Epic fail? Sure. But would I trade the fun? Absolutely not.
Early Career: Ambition Meets Chaos
Then came my early work years. I aimed high professionally… and also aimed high socially, because back then everyone partied like it was a competitive sport. No one reined me in, and I was determined to keep up.
I once went boating in a nor’easter. Yes, a nor’easter. No, I don’t recommend it. Yes, it was a rush.
Eventually I burned out like a candle in the wind. I drifted a bit before landing at a dance studio. I loved it. I had stage fright. Naturally, I bought a franchise.
Best years of my work life — until it wasn’t. I sold at a loss. Another spectacular fail. But oh, the stories.
Then came Comcast. Enough said.
Vacation Adventures: Still Aiming High
You’d think I’d have learned to dial it back. But no. Even on vacation, I’m still me.
Take the time I tried to get the perfect photo of a bear. Not a safe photo. Not a zoom‑lens photo. No, I wanted the epic shot — the kind National Geographic photographers get after three months in the wilderness and a signed waiver.
There I was, camera in hand, thinking, This is going to be amazing. Meanwhile the bear was thinking, Lady, I don’t even know you.
Did I get the photo? Absolutely not. Did I survive? Shockingly, yes. Did I fail big? Oh, in spectacular fashion. But I aimed high — and that’s the whole point.
Why I Love This Motto
My life has never been neat, tidy, or sensible. But it has been full — of adventures, misfires, detours, and stories that make people say, “You did WHAT?”
So yes, I want the T‑shirt. Because “Aim High and Fail Big” isn’t a warning. It’s a celebration.
It means you tried. It means you lived. It means you’ve got stories worth telling — even the ones where the bear wins.
Coming Full Circle
And after all the adventures — the nor’easter boating, the psychedelic college years, the dance‑studio detour, the bear‑photo fiasco, the helicopter thrill rides, and even that day I stood there grinning while holding a hawk like it was the most normal thing in the world — I figured I’d end this post with a little proof that I’ve always been this way.
Long before the adrenaline experiments, the questionable decisions, and the spectacular misfires, there was me, aiming high in the most literal way possible.
Pom‑poms. Pep. Arms in the air. Confidence for days. Absolutely no idea what was coming next.
Turns out I’ve been “Aim High, Fail Big” since the very beginning.
