Dear 43 Things Users,

10 years after introducing 43 Things to the world, we have decided we have met our last goal: completing the incredible experience that has been 43 Things. Please join us in giving one last cheer to all the folks who have shared their goals with the world, as well as all the people who have worked at The Robot Co-op to build this incredible website. We won a Webby Award, published a book, and brought happiness to a lot of people.

Starting today, 43 Things users can export their goals and entries from the site. Starting August 15, we will make the site “read only”. 43 Things users will still be able to view the site and export their content, but we won’t be taking any new content from users. We hope to leave the site up for folks to see and download their content until the end of the year. Ending on New Year’s Eve takes us full circle.

It has been a long ride (one of our original goals was to "build a company that lasts at least 2 years” - we beat that one!) While we wish the site could live on, it has suffered from a number of challenges - changes in how people use the site, the advertising industry, and how search engines view the site. We wish the outcome was different – but we’ve always been realistic about when our goals are met and when they aren't.

As of today, you will be able to download your goals and entries. See more about that on the FAQ page. Thanks for 10 great years of goal-setting and achieving.

- The Robots.

Export My Content
Stop comparing myself to other people
This is making me miserable and I need to stop...

I mostly compare my looks to those of others. Whenever I’m out and I see a really pretty girl, I’ll compare myself to her, and feel really bad about myself. Especially if she’s shorter, slimmer, etc. I’ll look at her and try to figure out ‘what’ makes her pretty, and I’ll try and recreate it on myself. Is it her hair? Clothes? Makeup?

I thought that I was getting over this, but the other day, I walked into a store, and a few (male) salespeople were standing around talking. They hardly acknowledged my existence, so I went on browsing. Five minutes later, a beautiful girl walks in, and suddenly they sprang to life and were tripping all over themselves to assist her. I calmly walked out, but I was nearly in tears. Things like that is the reason why I never think I’m good enough. I know it sounds awful, and I wish I didn’t have to feel this way.


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