Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Free Advice Is Like Herpes

That's right.
I said Herpes.

Everybody who has it wants to pass it around. Like some kind of 'security in numbers' deal. I mean the advice. And the herpes too.

I'm not saying all free advice is bad advice. I'm just saying verify the source.

Like the fat greasy car guard at the gym who inspired this post.
He sees me walking out the gym after a rather strenuous and physical workout, waddles over to me like a fat blubbery seal in search of dead fish, and drops this thought-provoking gem :"You look exhausted. You mustn't over-exert yourself ne'...."
He looked like the kind of guy who's only threat of muscle injury would come from racing to the open buffet at Spur.
My car was parked about 50m from the entrance, so I upped my pace thinking I wasn't really in the mood of conversation with Hoover The Hungry Seal. He surprised me by keeping up the pace, possibly mistaking my body odour for rotting sardines. By the time I got to my car, he was out of breath, leaning his hairy sweaty lard-infested arm on my door and asking me to give him a minute.
I think he said minute.
He could have said help. I'm not sure.
I wasn't taking any chances with Hoover having a heart attack right next to my car. Lord knows he may have expected some mouth-to-mouth action to resuscitate his obviously overworked heart. For a split second the image of his heart in that massive neanderthal frame reminded me of a Mini-Cooper trying to tow the Titanic cross-country on holiday.

So I quickly shut my door, opened my window just enough to squeeze a R2 coin through as a tip in case he needed a deposit or down-payment for the ambulance, and left.

Now I'm going to have to park my car on another level, just in case he thinks he's found a friend in me and I'm going to throw him sardines every time he waddles in my direction.
Either that or get a new car. Maybe change gyms.
I don't know.
This is freaking me out.
Maybe I'll report him for harassment.... but he didn't really harass me. Dammit!
I'm sure if they look at the video footage of today, it will look like he was chasing me and I was trying to run away.

I don't need this stress in my life!

That's it.
Tomorrow I'll just go to gym with a pack of frozen sardines in my bag.
Just in case.

Trusting Your Instinct

This post is inspired by an interesting piece I read on my dear friend Azra's blog, which can be found here.

Every so often, when confronted with decisions, we find ourselves torn between what our heads tell us to do and what our hearts tell us to do; and sometimes our instinct is the shining beacon of light helping us make that decision. Except, being the blundering bumbling fools that we are, we choose to ignore this 6th sense to our own peril.

My Gran always said that the nagging voice inside each of us, guiding us and telling us what to do when confronted with decisions, are in fact the Angels usually found perched on our shoulders.
If I look back on some of the decisions I've made in life, and scored those made after much pondering against those made by virtue of gut instinct, I have a sneaky suspicion that the perched Angels would win by a landslide.

Sometimes we stay when we should go.
Sometimes we go when we should stay.
Sometimes our instinct taps gently , and sometimes it screams out loudly.

We make hundreds of decisions every day, and as a forex trader I'm making them in split seconds.
We need to silence the noise and listen more intently to that inner voice within each of us. Maybe it won't help me find the path to financial success, but I'm pretty sure it will help me trust myself a little more, believe in myself a little more, and feel like I'm more in control of my destiny.

My revised Bucket List should read "Trust your instinct more often."
Everything after that will simply be an affirmation of my faith in the process.