Success in “No Country For Old Men”




The portrayal of success is very hard to search for in a book such as, “No Country For Old Men” because it goes against the whole theme of the book which is good vs. evil. In the end, all the good guys die, which is spot on to true reality. It’s important to see this book incorporates its basis on what life actually is instead of tying a cheesy ending on to it. What the book is successful in doing is creating a very real and emotional sense to each individual character. McCarthy is able to do this by maintaining focus on only three characters known by the names of Bell, Chigurh, and Moss. The sheriff of the novel is Bell, who is after a serial killer known as Chigurh-chasing Moss. McCarthy captures Bell effectively (successfully) by telling us what it is like to be living in an era that has already moved on past his generation. It is a problem many of us face today as a society that has forwarded itself far beyond the 20th century. We are not reliant on our elders anymore and as the saying goes, “our children are our future.” Bell comes to a realization it is “he” that is the turtle in the race, and this time will not win. Times have changed. 

McCarthy is successful in creating his second character, Moss, on the level of morality. This is a character who stays true to his beliefs such as maintaining faithful to his wife in times of great trouble. In the Novel, Moss is away from his wife right from the beginning but keeps busy with other tasks. I remember one scene in the novel where a driver asks Moss if he “would like a ride in to town for a good night.” Moss proceeds to lift up his hand and expose his ring finger. Simple scenes such as this reflect every day situations I see as real, and much easier to connect to. 

The most important and final character McCarthy successfully portrays is Chigurh the serial killer. The reader is able to be shown visually through words the sick and twisted mind of the murderer. He provokes a different mind set which is interesting to perceive throughout the story. Something to the average person such as a “coin toss” is meaningless. But these actions will sometimes signify the killers next victim just for inconveniencing him in such a game.

I give credit to McCarthy to be able to pull of such different forms of character, how they reflect to one another, and the twists and turns each have to experience through association.


Keep Your Fingers Crossed Part 2 Blog #9 (Success-in this part)




What I did with my money should have been my problem, but outside influences always seemed to bombard in. Independency was key. Whatever trouble I should have to face, should be on my own. It was a skill set that extended far above education level, and class line. This was one of the many reasons why I was so mad when I entered the store for the third time. “He” was taking something that was rightfully mine, and could have the potential of a lifetimes work. I peered in before grabbing the metal handle. The darkness outside made it much easier for me to see in…and a lot harder for him to see out. He was reading the numbers in his head. He knew they were the winners of the night. With full force I drove my hand into the door.  I could see he already had started cashing out for the night. 

“Your back,” he exclaimed. 

“My business isn’t done here.” 

He could see the evil look in my eyes. I was waiting for his first move. He had the key to open the door to success. The numbers were indisputable. There was no such thing as cheating in the lottery. Once the numbers were scanned, the statistics were final. His muscles tensed. His jaw was locked. I would make the first move. 

“This can go a lot easier if you just want to turn the Disney Channel machine back on for me.” 

“Like I said sir, we’re getting ready to close for the night.”

“We are getting ready to close for the night? It sure looks like your the only man here if you ask me.”

I made sure to accentuate my words. The realization dawned over the clerk. He knew what he really wanted to do. My back was turned to the man, but I knew he saw my jaw muscles flex into the expression of a slight grin. He started to make his way over in my direction, at least to where I believed I was positioned. For a slight second I directed my eyes to the video camera. The light in the store provided a perfect image back to me on his location. He was as still as the racks holding all the goods in the store. If I did not know any better I might actually have mistook him for one. But I had the upper hand, and he knew he was in the wrong. I kept my cool. The clerk grabbed hold of one of the racks and furiously penetrated it into the tile floor. I stood just as still as he quickly grabbed his things and ran to the back room. I was in here every week, I knew the store just as well as him. I turned in a calmly manner and shouted for him. There was no way out of that back room. He may have believed it was a scapegoat, and a way for me to run out along the backside where he was, just to find it was not an exit. But I knew better now, I knew to stand my grounds. All that could be done was to wait it out. The more time he took…only the more he suffered. I would be successful in getting my ticket because this was the moment of a lifetime I had been waiting for.

I could hear his cries of weakness through the locked door. Empty boxes could also be heard vibrating against one another-this is where he must have been hiding.  He was like one of those cardboard boxes… Full of nothing. He was the color scheme of plain brown, he was going no where. Even though it was a lousy ticket I was trying to get to, I realized it had more significance that I thought did. It was paving the way to the success I would soon encounter. My mind had become fogged, but now was gradually clearing. Keeping my fingers crossed may now have had more importance than ever to what I wanted to do. This ticket would now be giving me a second chance, a way to start over, and giving me even more of a drive to move forward. 

I shook my head, enough of this emotional business for today. I fixed my attention again towards the door.

One last noise… I could hear the cracks as he too began to cross his fingers. 


Keep Your Fingers Crossed Part 1 Blog #8 (Success-look for second part)


“Keep your fingers crossed,” were the words I lived by every time I went to the local mini-mart. It was a very easy and simple process really, and also a very simple and easy way to lose money. But it was the way I chose to spend my money. You can either spend your money, save your money, invest it, or give it away. I was the best at number one. I pulled up to the mart as usual one friday afternoon right after what I considered to be “payday.” My manager handed me my paycheck, and as usual I asked for it in cash. The clerk handed me my pay in an envelope, I thanked him, and veered off out of the store. The envelope also knew exactly where it would be headed. I promptly headed to my car, and unlocked it midway, in such a manner that I could be in right as I reached it, I had no time to spare. I inserted my key, and with a quick flick of the wrist my car started without delay. I pulled off, happy as a dog, waiting to see if my paycheck would for once not go to waste. I had to limit myself, but today was extra special because it was the last day for drawings of the mega millions. Two minutes was all the time needed to reach this special mini-mart, and it had many more winners than any other gas station around. Pickings were slim I presumed, so I instead went to this filling station.

“Your back,” the clerk exclaimed.

“Not a surprise to you sir…”

“Oh most definitely not. You got here just in time, we’re closing soon. I assume you know the drawings are tonight for-”

“The mega millions,” I shouted. “I know…two for ten please.”

He began to ring up the tickets. I had hoped he would reach for them first, but this action didn’t seem to be in the cards for me tonight. I hoped the odds of winning on the other hand, would be in my favor. I waited impatiently as his ass slowly stepped up to the locked drawer. He soon spun around and handed me what he called, “the winners of the night.”

“I would hope,” I mumbled, while looking down at the cards. I flipped the two babies around, and took them to the scanner just a few steps behind me. With my back turned I scanned the first card and waited for it to calculate the results. Cartoon-looking characters arose onto the screen speaking, “sorry, play again with us next time!” Play again with us next time… The next time I play I will spend 10 more dollars and therefore not be playing anything, but instead still spending all my money. This was not a game to me, as many seemed to make it out to be. This was a trip back and forth, almost the distance from home to work, to get something processed in a machine, I physically could not do myself. It was very irritating to know not a single thing could be done. I decided it was time to move on to card number two. This would be the one. I fully exerted my arm into the machine and waited for it to scan the ticket. I glanced down, but the red lasers were not beaming. I tilted my head up, and in doing so I was greeted with a nice text box reading, “That’s all for tonight folks.” I don’t know what it was about those cartoon characters, but they were playing this stupid game when I was in an emotional state of utter seriousness. I let the card fall and ran out of the store. Another day had been wasted, another paycheck-wasted. I didn’t even know if it was worth it to show my face back in the mart tonight. I struggled to get out of my car for a second time, and slowly protruded back in. The bell rang, and I peered in. The clerk looked up from what seemed to be a drawing, and was surprised to say for a third time, “you’re back.”

If Animals Could Talk Blog #7


I am an animal, I am part of the wild, you cannot keep me in captivity.

The morning sun gazed in on my den, a good 20 feet inside my shelter. The wall surfaces acted as a point of reflection, the rays jumping from one side to the next until it reached of all people…me. Was it morning already? It had been weeks since I stepped foot into this cave, and even now I was too lazy to arise from my hibernating sleep. I sneezed, and in doing so, kicked up a wad of dirt particles. The dust blanketed over my furry head, which caused an even more allergic reaction. My legs were sore from being burrowed up in this position for so long of a time. Not only did my legs hurt, but my shoulder was also still healing from a fall. Hibernation had come at the right time this year, making it possible for me to develop back to normal. I moved my legs back and forth, transferring my weight to my belly. It was that time again-back to the old grind. I leveled my weight onto all fours and slowly forced myself up from the ground. Roots and branches snapped as I arose due to the mass my body took up. I had to be quiet, because Indians were a big predator for us bears. I had to be successful this year, not only for myself, but for my cubs that I soon would be caring for. Indians were especially attracted to females these days who had much more muscle tone, therefore more meat. If not for food, I would be held captive, and looked at as a prize. My eyes skimmed the outskirts of the cave. Not a sign of life could be seen or heard insight. Only the sound of the Susquehanna River which enveloped around my territory. My stomach grumbled…it knew what that meant. Fish! I proceeded with caution out from my hole, making sure to duck from the roots that would grope my figure above. The texture of the soil felt so good on the palms of my feet. I sunk down about an inch with every step. It was a tiring process, but one my legs would need to recover from. I lifted my head, and looked directly for my location so I would not lose focus or time. I reached the Susquehanna when the Sun was highest in the sky, and decided it was time to eat. It would have been a better choice to go about my business at night, so there would be no risk of danger. But I had a strong desire for food and I couldn’t help the time I arose from my sleep. I prowled in the grass for a period of time, while my peripherals saw the ends of each cat tail. It was time. The weight of my body shifted downward as I headed to the river below. The water was moving at a pretty steady pace today; this was a good sign for fish. I blocked the flow of water on one side of the river, and waited patiently for some chow. Small minnows could be seen continuously running in and out of my pool. My patience was being tested, but soon a good-sized salmon swam into my make-shift trap. I cropped the head off, and began eating the fish in peace. My ears could hear my own chomping sounds because I was so loud! I hadn’t eaten a tasty meal in so long… But they could also hear something else.

I directed my attention away from the fish for a quick second and scanned the premise. Bushes could also be heard rumbling. Cattails lost their fur. Branches bent. Footsteps were in the distance. A whole group could have been watching me. Not this time, not me. I dropped my fish, and galloped away as fast as I could. The Indian’s calls echoed behind me. They might have brought guns they acquired from the Americans. I wouldn’t take a second to look, there was no time. Even better-my long fur created a barrier along the side of my eyes like a horse,  so I could only focus on what was ahead of me. “shwoom.” Arrows brushed the top of my fur as they flew past me. My adrenaline upped, and so did my reaction time. I shifted my body one way to the next, hoping to avoid each shot. But by doing this, pressure also increased in my shoulder. My legs had broken free from their state of rest, but my shoulder was still in a state of pain. Why were they still following me, why couldn’t they move to another victim? Their yells vibrated louder on the backs of my ears…Growls almost. Growls?

I not only was running with Indians, but wolves were also chasing the Indians themselves. A wolf knew better than to mess with a bear, but not humans. Wolves would go to any extent. The Indian’s screams were of pain, and soon grew softer. The wolves’ growls masked their voices. Soon all the tribes voices were hushed. I had lived, and most importantly I had succeeded. Whether we were together or not, we animals fought as one.

I am an animal, I am part of the wild, you cannot keep me in captivity.

In My Hole


“You will speak to no one, your duties will remain constant with ours, we will succeed for the purpose of only ourselves, you are one of us now.”


Several months prior:

A United States soldier is what I had planned to be. A life of earned respect, and teamwork, is what I had hoped to accomplish. The path I had seemed to place myself in did not agree with my personal values. Being a citizen of the country I grew to know so well vanished, due to my actions that arose at school. I had put those in my past, they should not still have been a part of me. I should have been able to leave that life behind. But it was still chasing me like a hungry wild animal chased its dinner… Oh how I had wanted dinner so bad. I hadn’t had a cooked meal for about 6 months, since I had been shipped overseas. Military school was the only choice, except we were the ones put in combat. My fellow peers stood next to me day by day on the front lines of the fields. Rules did not apply like they did back in CT. Nothing was justified, but nothing could be done. King Essiz exercised dictatorial power over us in a country…heck, I couldn’t even correctly pronounce the name of. If you partook in any activity not assigned, you stuck out like a sore thumb.  It was a shitty situation that I had to live with.


6 months prior:

I opened my eyes to the blaring hot sun projecting its hot rays through my tent. This would be the last time camping. We would be moving underground for the authorities to exercise more power, and for us to be even more isolated. We were stripped to our bare belongings, and it took me less than 1 minute to gather all my “tools.” I call them tools because they meant nothing to me. I would use these objects for their purpose, and that was it. Sounds could be heard approximately 100 ft in distance of others packing up their possessions. There was just enough distance between each of us, for our voices to be muffled. Faint echoes were all I had experienced for those last 6 months, and upcoming 7th. I got into place. I was number 5. Eyes followed me because I was the first in line. All I wanted was to succeed here, so I was able to come out of war alive and be transported back across the seas. I thought nothing of their stares, for I had never even heard any of their voices. The rest trekked over, and stood, their backs erect. Bad posture would result in punishment. King Essiz thrusted his arm over his shoulder, and pointed to our next direction. Words again, were not spoken. Silence was golden-seemed to be their motto. I moved forward after the four in front of me had taken their first step. We were off again on our journey, our next point of interest awaiting us. Later, at around 18:00 hours, we had reached our holes.


“You will rest now, and awake at 06:00 hours. You will NOT, by any circumstances, come out until ordered to. Your duties will remain the same,” were the last words I ever heard Essiz speak, even till this day. Day, or night, I would not know. My new personal safe zone spanned from about the range of 10 m by 10 m in length. Sleep was hard to acquire, with the jagged edges from each rock projecting out of the rocky surface. The sandy bottom would fit to my shape, but it would always make my back tense when I arose. There really was nothing to do down here but wait. If I was actually needed, I would be called.

I could sense echoes. Voices could be heard running from the pebbly surface up to the jagged tips of the cave. “shmump.” People were stepping foot right above my covert. Fragments of stone fell on to my face…something that hadn’t been touched in what felt like forever. Their distant cries moved closer, It was me they were looking for. Figures appeared out of the shadows, their faces-unrecognizable. Each set of eyes aimed down at me and waited for my response.

Search Team: “We have found you, missing person.”

But I did not speak, I was not allowed to.

Search Team: “What is your purpose”

Search team: “…Do you know anything?”

“I know I will speak to no one, my duties will remain constant with yours, and we will succeed for the purpose of only ourselves.”


Tip, Please? Success Blog #5


I had never been part of anything before…I had the resemblance of no one. I was represented as no one, and I sure didn’t have a place to fill in society. This was an opportunity of a life time, finally a place for me to be wanted. I stared down at what surely could end in disaster, but I had nothing to lose.

I was standing on the fourth floor of a rustic old building, south of Broadway St. in New York. I went to work everyday and after my tasks were completed, I would leave the premise. It wasn’t really like working a job, especially as low of a position I held in the corporation. It was a corrupt task, and I always found ways to work around it. I would come at 6pm and start my duties hoping to be out of the shit hole by midnight. I swept, I mopped, I brushed, I waxed, and my favorite duty-cleaning up after the pigs. But I did remain quiet around them, for they were the executives who were just being served dinner in the mess hall.  They were crazy, but kept to themselves. I was nothing to them, and they meant nothing to me. I had overheard them mentioning my name once before, but they were now tossing it up again. I inched my head little by little, until I was looking at all of them. Their eyes glistened in the dimly lit room. I scowled, but I received friendly responses in return. The whole time I worked there, the pigs didn’t acknowledge me once. But now…this “animal farm” wanted to be sensible. My eyes were locked on them, I would not turn away. But they wanted to talk. They wanted something from me. “What do you want?” I murmured. Hands raised to guide me over to the eating area. I could still smell faint scents of turkey from dinner that had escaped the enclosed platters. Their eyes gazed to the food and pointed to the trays. What were they trying to show me? I trudged over, my eyes aimed at the trays’ metallic color-reflecting in the faintly lit room. I scanned the surface, everything seemed to be normal. Perhaps I would look above. The thermometer happened to be coded with digits of money-not temperature. In a flash, my muscles contracted, I couldn’t help but to grin. These executives were just as corrupt as me. They wanted me part of their businessand I wanted in.

Their mission was to steal as much money in one night, with help from co-operants who worked in other floors of the building. Food would be slid by so easy without anyone acknowledging it. As I finished my duties, I would be in the hands of thousands of dollars, that rested in a part of the food trays. I would distribute the money evenly, but since I was the janitor, I would be the one with dirty hands. It would happen tomorrow night. In this manner, we would have enough time to prepare, but not enough time for enemies to be expecting anything. My state of mind intensified, this could be my chance to make something out of my life. Although, the consequences were high. Stealing from our own company could cost us big time, including legal trouble such as jail. Was my life worth giving up? I pushed forward, and decided I would be missed by no one. I would miss this opportunity myself if I didn’t go for it. If we were successful, I would not be who I was today…

At 6 pm I entered the building the next day, to assess my duties for the night. I walked in as normal, and made sure to make my presence known. I scuffed my husky jeans together in between my legs. My yellow cleaning basket creaked in the hallway down to the mess hall. One by one, the wheels vibrated over each tile, as I came closer to the cafe. My veins were showing, my pulse-through the roof. I would keep calm…I would take the trays as usual. I entered the premises and scanned the mess hall. All the pigs were in place as usual, chowing down on a bowl of chicken soup tonight. In the meantime I mopped, glancing up occasionally to check on their status. They seemed to enjoy their soup much more than usual, and there was good reason for it. At about 6:30 I agreed it was time, and turned in their location to take the trays. “Why thank you…sir.” I could be called sir all I want, but they wouldn’t actually mean it unless the job was done. I stabbed back, and announced, “tip please?” I mean, for all this hard work I would be doing, there was no reason I couldn’t be tipped. The pigs glanced at one another in awe. I would do what they asked, but I was also taking a stand for myself. The fattest pig ruffled around in his pocket, and pulled out a crinkled bill which had the resemblance of a 100. “I better get change…” he uttered. “Oh you will,” I smiled. I then grabbed the trays one by one, placed them on top of my yellow cart, and walked in the opposite direction. I could feel their eyes fixed on my back, behind me. I came to the sink room, and entered slowly, making sure the coast was clear. I would do it here-behind the kitchen in the sink room. In this way, I could exit the building from the back, and be out. I reached around to find the compartment, and in less than a second, I could feel the cloth. Even as a janitor, I probably knew more than the executives did. That money is not paper, but rather cloth-the feel is distinctive. My eyes gazed down at what looked to be 10000 dollars per stack. I threw the blessing into my yellow cart, which would never be recognized as a hiding spot. I then cleaned up the trays, and slowly stepped down the back exit. My duties were done, and whether or not I would actually give the pigs the money…well that’s up to you to figure out.

Success in Death Blog #4


It seemed to be all to real for me. It was something I had experienced before in a mysterious place. It was experienced in a state of mind most people only see glimpses of. But now it was becoming a reality. No fresh air, no light, no sound; no space. I embraced the only sense that seemed to have any importance to me-touch. I could feel the unfinished wooden planks that extended no more than half a foot above. As I rubbed my hand down the board, splinters bit into me as if I touched a hoard of red ants. I let them travel through my skin and reach into each and every one of my fingers. Drips of blood protruded from my hands and flew down on to my face. I let it cover from my forehead all the way down to my chin. It was like a mask…of someone I wish I could be, because I knew I would be gone in the next couple days.

Alive or not, my pulse was undetectable at the scene of the accident. My parents had wanted to get the funeral over quickly so they did not have to deal with as much grieving that other relatives had to deal with in the past. Unfortunately, life insurance had only covered me with an ugly wooden casket due to my young age. In the span of a day, I was being lowered more than 20 feet into the depths of Lovely Meadows cemetery. There was almost nothing to listen to. I could faintly here the distant vibrations from critters crawling on the surface of my casket. I licked the most distinct wood I would ever taste. Maybe I never knew what the taste of wood was like, but It made my tongue cringe as my taste buds met the fibers. My eyes were no use open or closed. Seeing the dark of night while both eyes were open and while they were closed was something very hard to accept. It smelled of negative energy. But the smell of negative energy is indescribable. It was a place I shouldn’t have been in…not yet.

Hours had seemed to go by, but I had no way of tracking time. I mentally tried to break down the physical barrier people of my own kind had put me in. I physically tried to demolish the mental barrier my own family had entrapped me in. Nothing seemed to work. All that seemed to be important in society fell to nothing in that box. Being alone as a human is something we don’t seem to fear until it becomes all to real. At first I felt sadness…then I felt nothing. Completely blank-just like the box I was in.

It may have just been so scary, because it was a thought I had repressed. It may have just been a barrier that couldn’t be fought physically or mentally. What it was was unknown. What my brain conceived to be reality was no more real, than what could have been taken for fake. This was a place all of its own. I had made it to the other side successfully, but what had significance in this place would have to be explored in a whole different perception.

How I Got Away With Murder

Success in Murder Blog #3 

Bullets trickled to the floor like a jumbled kids game of jacks. Hollow cases shimmered in the evening sunset. I counted 4 shells…but there could have been more. The number didn’t matter. What mattered was “he” was gone. I had succeeded. I briskly zipped up my .20 caliber rifle, and was off.

I had lived through a terrible college experience in my few years I spent at Harvard Medical School. My family wanted me to take after my father, but a doctor was not what I really wanted to be. Although, I remained in every science class until the end of that year. Books filled my room, along with personal information, to fill out internship applications to local newspapers-hoping to be granted my real opportunity. My roommate was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. He spent a lot of time in “that” room, and I tried to stay out as much as possible. Avoiding his presence is what I did. It wasn’t that I was provoked by him. I felt the need to give him just as much space as he gave me. I believed the whole point of a roommate was to not build a strong personal relationship between the two individuals. But, it almost was a way of letting him progress towards his goal.

I came back one late night from the library to see a look of shock on his face. Arms to the side, body fully erect, and his face flushed with a seemingly white color to it.

“What’s wrong dude?”


I spun a 180 and walked out that door again and decided I’d come back once again, still later. That time would never come, because by distancing myself all these months between him and I, “It” was able to obtain all my information. What made me-me…my identity. In a matter of a day, I quite fortunately dropped out of school, hoping to achieve my goal of finding that rat bastard and put him in his place. I knew why he wanted me. My father was in the hands of a whole medical corporation, hoping to send out a new drug in the next few months. And once that drug had come out, and I was done with my last year of schooling, all that extra money from sales and stocks would go to me-his son. Money was the only gift he seemed to be able to give to me. We didn’t have a strong bond, and this was his way of justifying our link together. What was rightfully mine, I didn’t even want. Money was being spent on an education I did not approve of…but I certainly did not approve of some stranger being granted this money that most certainly would be considered mine. And what was worse-he had everything to say who “he” was, was actually me.

Things were tense with my dad, and school, and law enforcement, so I decided to go about this mission independently. For years, copious amounts of money were being wired from my Dad’s business to “it”. Even when I tried to be productive, missed calls were all I received from him. He still thought it was the money I was after. Limitless amounts would be transferred over daily. Amounts I couldn’t even comprehend or know of, because I did not have the sources to be proactive in this type of situation. I was just a regular college student now broke from forgery, identity theft, and rent bills themselves. It all seemed like a blur at first… a gloomy haze that couldn’t be real. But 10 years had gone by without a trace of it.

10 years later…

I came home from work after a stressful day at the office, trudging to the steps of my one room apartment door. Everything seemed to be normal. All was quiet, but I seemed to still enjoy quiet to this day. I kicked the rust filled metal door and let it sway open as the gust of wind engulfed us both. I hoped to see lovely rustic furniture. Some mahogany colored tables, and furnished wooden floors. Something all that money could have finally bought me. There’s nothing like that sweet smell of wood bringing back memories from Mom and Pop’s house. Cheerful gazes would be given to me as I stepped foot in from school, and I usually would be greeted with a plate of food due to my Italian cultured background. But this was different. I did not even smell a faint lingering odor of myself. I dropped my bags, and bolted for the kitchen. Gun in hand, I crept slowly around the corner. Muffling sounds could be heard in my bedroom…the only other way out. “It” had already jumped, somehow surviving the two story fall. I knew what “it” wanted, and “it” was back for more…                     The door had still stayed open, being absorbed in by the gusts. I almost tripped out the door, but this time I would not lose. I furiously flew up to the third flight of stairs, which paved the way to the rooftop…overlooking the town. Although he was in a distance, there was no way he could get away now. He was in full view, as I knelt down and cocked back my firearm. This was it. Something I had seemed to be waiting for forever.

Bullets trickled to the floor like a jumbled kids game of jacks. Hollow cases shimmered in the evening sunset. I counted 4 shells…but there could have been more. The number didn’t matter. What mattered was “he” was gone. I had succeeded. I briskly zipped up my .20 caliber rifle, and was off.

Blog #2 Success

Success in Business-with my own touch


As I was pondering about what to write in my secondary blog, I stumbled upon this intriguingly designed advertisement. You know, those ones you sneer at on the side of your web browser. The ones that illuminate right as you have visited a new site. You try furiously to click away as they have bugged but one second out of your day. Yet somehow us humans let the little things get to us…But this ad happened to catch my eye. It’s beautifully crafted colors just happened to spark an idea, of a plan of how success can be found in business. It is almost like a blueprint of how a business should run and how it gets processed.

The first step: Create

You have a wonderful idea, but how can it be successful? Your plan should be to come up with the most unique of an idea as possible. This is your time to shine, and anything that goes down-you WILL go down with. This is your work of art. Use it wisely

The second step: Beautiful

You have created your work of art, now make it beautiful. You might say, you have already created your work… Wrong answer. YOU have not done anything. You have not stepped foot out into the business world as an owner at all yet. You have only gotten to step two in the process. I’m trying to reassure you in the most respectful manner possible…no harsh feelings

Step three: Website

Your rounding third base, and your art has become a beaut. If you’ve made it this far… well so have thousands of others. Nothing will set you apart until after the blueprints. Your business is just a work in the making, ready to be taken or copied at any second. Keep your work secretive and remember-one of a kind. Start networking, spread your idea through word of mouth and through the use of websites. You want people to be able to find you.

Step four: Go

You’ve reached all the bases and have taken it all with you. Now don’t stop…GO! You want to be able to run with your idea and don’t back down. A business is not just a business. You should be running right along side it. It is your partner, your friend, someone who only lets you down if you are not loyal to them. This is your one moment, your one opportunity, would you take it? Or just let it slip…

Blog #1 Success

Etymology of Success

  • 1530s, “result, outcome,” from Latin successus “an advance, succession, happy outcome,” from succedere “come after” (see succeed). Meaning “accomplishment of desired end” (good success) first recorded 1580s.

    The moral flabbiness born of the bitch-goddess SUCCESS.

  • “That — with the squalid interpretation put on the word success — is our national disease. ” [William James to H.G. Wells, Sept. 11, 1906]

  • Success story is attested from 1925. Among the French phrases used in English late 19c. were succès d’estime “cordial reception given to a literary work out of respect rather than admiration” and succès de scandale “success (especially of a work of art) dependent upon its scandalous character.
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Quotes in Literature:

Failure is success if we learn from it.” Malcolm Forbes

All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure.” Mark Twain

In my opinion

The sweetest victory is the one that is the most difficult. Many of us avoid the thought of failure…that we do not aim to succeed. I do not completely agree with the definition of success pertaining to a happy out come.  The Pope and crusades were successful in recapturing the city state of Jerusalem at the time and stopping the growth of Islam, but it was mainly a much bigger disaster in the long run-they did not foresee. It not only created many future problems for the church, but thousands of innocent people were killed in the process.