“There he goes again” my family would say after I would make one of my life changing announcements.
I was always tilting at windmills and off on my next big adventure.
I was really full of passion until the work began.
First it was the Chef’s Training Institute, then it was Berklee College of Music, then it was computer programming, then I thought I would be a personal trainer.
Which felt to me, like I was going after a medical degree.
And these guys seemed like such dopes at the gym. How did they do it?
All these lofty goals seemed wonderful when I announced them, but when the work started, well, not so much.
I had more stress studying music than my whole year in Vietnam. I was getting shooting pains in my head.
You would think cooking, music and exercise would be…fun. Wrong!
To this day, I don’t know how I hung in at any of those professions.
But I did.
If the G.I.Bill wasn’t paying for Berklee, I would have been gone in a week. That was crazy.
It was like learning another language backwards.
You had to sing, play, write and conduct music in front of fucking virtuosos. Yikes!
When I got the training package for my fitness certification, I tried to get my money back immediately.
This wasn’t exercise, it was science. I don’t want to be a doctor, I want to be a gym rat.
What I’m trying to say is, passion on it’s own isn’t going to get you anywhere unless you put the work in.
Passion and a dollar won’t get you a cup of coffee.
Usually, once I got over the shock of what I had gotten myself into, I had to buckle down and get serious.
That ain’t fun. I would sometimes grumble my way through.
And I was very passionate about all those things…in the beginning.
So I say, passion, smassion, dig in and get to work.
Passion only comes after you get really good at something.