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.

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FAQ

Tarrador

My God, it's full of stars...



I'm doing 13 things
 

How I did it
How to fix things myself
It took me
1 month
It made me
handy


How to run the 2014 Peachtree Road Race
It took me
1 day
It made me
Happy


How to the Big Project: Adopt
It took me
3 years
It made me
supremely happy


See all "How I Did It" stories...

Recent entries
Dine at Tarrador's Table (read all 32 entries…)
Shaved Prosciutto and Cantaloupe Cooler

Thought we’d be all locked up by now…

Our event center had an open house with and international theme. For the Moroccan Pavillion I made a menu of Pickled Cucumber with White Bean Hummus, Harissa Glazed Lamb Pops, Sliced Apples Dipped in Cashew and Date Glaze, Casablanca Hanger Steak, Chicken Tagine, Carrot-Orange Salad, Summer Vegetables, Saffron Israeli Couscous, Herbed Tabbouleh, and Shaved Prosciutto suspended over fresh Cantaloupe Juice in a lovely, gold-rimmed goblet. I also did a Chinese theme menu for the Asian Room, and a haute cuisine menu for the French Room, which included a chick who’s dress had baguette slices sewn into it, which became the tablecloth for the Cheese and Bread station.

It was a helluva lot of work to prep it all, being as I’m down two prep people these days. And I learned my lesson about saving “simple” jobs to delegate to temp staff. “Hmmmm… do I have time to sautee these vegetables? No, but it’s okay, any ding-dong can sautee veg. I’ll let one of the temps do it when they get here.”

Lesson learned.



Change the Energy (read all 53 entries…)
You Won't Leave Like You Came

So I am sitting here, drink in hand, hitting the refresh button with the consistency of a rat expecting a treat, and wondering what life is going to be like when I no longer have the refuge or distraction of this place to come to. Will I sink into a gooey pool of procrastination and ineffectiveness, or will I stand up, turn away from the screen, and go make my goals and dreams happen?

Too soon to tell.

I’ve likened the ending of the site to watching a beloved friend or family member pass away. We are gathered ‘round, we know the end is coming soon. We all want to be there at that final moment. Then there will be the wake, and all the eulogies will be silent. For a time I will view the corpse of my goals, until at the end of the year it is unceremoniously buried and marked with a 404 error code headstone.

What is 43Things’ will for me? What would be its final wish? I suspect it would gather its last breath, struggle upright, grasp my hand, look me hard in the eye with fierce clarity, and say: “Go out and live!” That is the best and most lasting tribute I can offer to a place that has been so much to me. If I do things, 43 things, 55 things, 1001 things, I honor this place and all the awesome people here by manifesting that spirit of seeing my life not as a completed project that needs repair, but as an unfinished work that is still growing, expanding, and becoming. Becoming what? Whatever I want.

I will not walk away from this “end of watch” with regret, although I will grieve. I will walk away with (dare I say it?) a kind of relief. I will walk away from a type of identity that I developed here. It is an identity that I carry around with me in my 3D world, where I frame experiences in my mind as if they were posts under my list of goals. I have set for myself a kind of sense of expectation for the identity I have here. “Tarrador says and does this, Tarrador is not interested in this kind of goal, Tarrador needs to do this…” and while it has helped me immeasurably to live out the identity I forged here, there is a passing of all things, and the constant evolution of all things. I need to grow and become, and being free from here will compel me to make serious choices about how I do that.

The energies generated by all the positive and affirming presences here are not going away. They won’t dissipate into the vast ether just because they cannot focus here. It may be more work to find them, because this place was such an amazing nexus of brilliant energy, but they remain, and their power is still there. And I intend to access that energy even when I can no longer do it from here.

My life changed because of my interactions and efforts on this site. My life is going to change again once it is gone. It will change in what I want and how I go about achieving it. The energy is still going to be there, as will my goal to change the energy as I can to benefit me the most.



Bid a fond farewell to this site in the old style (read all 7 entries…)
You're In My Soul

There are not enough words or posts or photos or cheers to accurately reflect the impact being here these last 7 years has had upon my life. The people I have enountered are among the best I’ve ever known. I’ve seen people become parents, get married, realize precious dreams, take holidays, get divorced, lose loved ones, and even pass on from this life. I’ve seen the sick get better, the hopeless become hopeful, and the lost find a path, and I’ve been a privileged viewer to it because of the environment of comfort, security, and support manifested here.

I didn’t come here a whole person, and I’m not leaving a whole person. One of my favorite posters, h.g. happiness, wrote a post about “never not broken” and that we should see change and being broken as a positive, challenging opportunity. I’m leaving broken, but in a good way, I hope. Because at the moment of all this brokenness, this pain and ending and sorrow and what-next, I have the chance to become better and more whole than ever before. Breaking apart will rend all the joints wherein toxins and complacency and cowardice lie. The plans for the future are upset or even destroyed. Which can be good because now I am confronted with the opportunity to make new choices, push for what I really want instead of what I comfortably have, purify my desires, release my expectations, dream a dream beyond the horizons I thought I set for myself. As the pieces of my life explode away from their current position, I am capable of determining how they fall back together, and what sort of a life they create. I am leaving here broken, and confident it is for the best.

Yet… yet… Nothing will fill the spot in my soul this place has tended. There will always be a light on in my inner self for 43T, and for everyone here who helped to make it such a special place with their tears and laughter and thoughts and actions. There is no doubt that this place has become something more than its creators ever dreamed. It has become an avenue in the universal consciousness by which energy and love and truth and happiness are conducted. We have been friends and comrades and counselors to people oceans away whom we have never met. And the hundreds of you who have come my way are housed immovably in my soul.

And that soul leaves here, perhaps not whole, but fuller and richer.

Much love and blessings to everyone. May we all find peace, purpose, joy, and love.



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