Early this spring, I started a new project. I have no idea how or why I thought of this particular idea. It just kinda came to me. I think I was sitting in what my family fondly calls the Big Room in our home – a space that is relatively quiet, on the second floor, furnished with all that represents yesteryear including a 1980s plaid sofa, a worn out pool table, several chairs that would fit in no home (including mine) but there they are in the Big Room. And there I was using one of them when this idea hit me.

On the surface, the idea is simple. Initially I gave myself thirty days to complete it. I actually chuckled at that thought as I figured I would have it finished in a day, two at the most. But as the timeline was going to be self imposed, I kindly allotted myself a month just to be on the very safe side.

The task centered around my next great writing adventure.  My blog has been chugging along for many years, and I thought maybe it is time to press on to new adventures and new worlds.  Maybe I need to take that big, giant leap forward.  After all, according to Mr. Gretzky – hockey’s The Great One, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” So, not moving my writing forward was much like not taking the available shot.  I will miss out for sure if I never try.

So, the new writing quest began.

Step one of the task at hand has been to identify one hundred words that describe . . . me. Words on this list could be nouns or verbs . . . or adverbs . . . or adjectives. All parts of the English language are welcome. The words can be positive or negative, simple, complex or compound. Slang . . . acceptable! Onomatopoeia . . . acceptable! Acronyms and abbreviations – thumbs up! The list can include words that describe my past, present, and/or future as long as each entry somehow tells the story of me.

It seemed so easy when I thought of it.  One hundred words with no holds barred.  A laundry list of what it means to be me.  I wasn’t challenging myself to anything so whoppin’ grand that it was going to take all my might to complete it.  Just a list of one hundred words.  I don’t even have to alphabetize them.  Just jot them down.  One at a time.  Until I hit one hundred.    

It’s sixty days later. Sixty days. And I have yet to even come close to finishing.  I’m not sure if I am embarrassed or scared. Or both. What does it say about me to not be able to quickly come up with one hundred distinct words that describe me.  Sadly, yesterday I noticed there was a duplicate, and it was difficult erasing from what was already slim in number.  

As of this moment, there are – count them – a measly thirty-nine words on the list of me. Thirty-nine.  Thirty-nine.

I’ve lived much more than half a century.  I have a family and relatives and friends and a house and stuff.  I’ve done a lot of the usual and some of the unusual.  I’d call it a good mix.  But, there are still only thirty-nine words on my list and it feels like I am permanently stuck there.

To make myself feel a bit better, I’m extending my timeline.  I’m giving myself an additional six months to see if I can broaden out the list.  I may resort to reading the big giant unabridged dictionary that is kindly sitting on the lower shelf in my living room.  Doing so, however, seems to walk close to that plagiarism line.

In any event, though my latest idea may have been a failure in that I have only met a bit more than one third of my goal, it has taught me much, much more than expected.  

I am only unique by a thin margin.  

Measuring differences is difficult.  

Before I can describe anyone else, I had better be able to describe myself.  

I got some work cut out for me