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About Me & This Blog

Welcome to my blog. And thanks for reading.

The day I turned 31 (August 25, 2011, to be exact), I did what most people do on their day of birth: I told myself, “This year is going to be different.” I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions, but I figured that I’d give the whole yearly optimism thing a try. As I sit here recollecting just one month from my thirty-second birthday, I can honestly say that 2011-2012 was different, and not necessarily in a “Wow! That was an epic year!” kind of way. It surely wasn’t the year I had in mind.

While it wasn’t the year I had anticipated, I learned and grew. To borrow a cliché, what didn’t kill me made me stronger (or maybe that was the new exercise routine I started?). I was supposed to relocate to New York City, only my employer threw a wrench in those plans. I lost that job. I broke up with my live-in girlfriend. I went unemployed for months. I got an emergency appendectomy. I moved back in with my parents. I found a job. I began online dating. I started using emoticons (because of the online dating). And the list continues.

Through those experiences, I decided that I needed to start living — for me. And that meant tackling my bucket list. Perhaps the one thing on it that I can tackle — something that doesn’t require oodles of money and a life-changing approach — is writing a book. You see, I’m a writer by day, a writer by night. Writing consumes me. It is my profession and my passion. My articles have been published countless times, only you wouldn’t know it because my copy is usually disguised under another person’s byline. My ads have been seen by plenty. My words have led to new business and social mentions. And when I’m not writing on a computer, my mind is aflutter with words, concepts, ideas.

After 31 years, tackling my bucket list begins with writing a book. Whether my book ever gets published, this blog is my book in the making, my work in progress. And it is my personal, no-secrets account of what the hell happened between being a hopeful 31-year-old and a grabbing-at-straws 32-year-old.

—Cory Grassell

P.S. Please share this blog with your friends, and help a starving artist.

 

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