I am a self-help junkie*. I go on week-long motivational video binges. If it were possible to overdose on jacked up old men who are high on life, I would be long dead. Nothing is better than a good fester in front of my computer with, like, Zig Ziglar talking away on my YouTube playlist.
Tony Robbins is my god. Err… was my god. I’ve been cheating on him with Brian Tracy who is like a toned down CANADIAN version of Tony, without the shouting, hand-clapping, NLP loving, cult-like bent. I feel like Brian’s speeches aren’t as holistic as Tony’s – he focuses mainly on money, work and sales, and it seems like relationships come second to that – but I love me a good workaholic so Tracy and I are still pretty tight.
The problem with these videos is that um… just watching them makes me feel better so I never do anything. When Tony shouts out stuff like “Do you agree? Say ‘I'”, I am not jumping up out of my seat yelling “I” to get myself into a peak state or whatever. More often than not, I’m shoving another cheesie or chocolate bar into my face. But tonight, thanks to my new boyfriend, Mr. Tracy, I am thinking about actually taking his advice and writing my goals down every morning. How sad would that be? I mean, really. Would you think that I was a total freak if you happened upon my notebook, and the only thing it said inside was “I do everything I can to avoid debt”? Seriously now.