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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1 person wants to do this.

write a (sloppy, half-formed if need be) poem every day (or so) during July 2011


People doing this

Recent activity


Grandmothers hear what
they want to hear and tell what
they want to tell; sleep. 3 years ago

LisaThrough the eyes of love...(ice castles poem...not really)

Unsought love became
the norm; it fell from the sky
and came up through the

Floorboards. An unsolved
case besotted, sodden, and
weighing us down with

The scent of a million
heartbroken feathers. We were
stuffed with the sense of

Finally being enough
for you, for me, for him, for
her, for God. And so

Aphrodite exhaled
and understood to withhold
so much from so many

Wouldn’t do anyone
any good. She fogged
up all of our glasses

Until we could finally
see and feel the tender touch
of love; sweet, sweet love. 3 years ago

LisaCan't handle haiku

I’d want it all, even
if I felt I was a well
that could hold water. 3 years ago

LisaInspired by the Helen Keller quote to my right

She touched to the palm
of her hand hidden messages,
vines dropping down, flowers.

Quiet yet intent
on conveying the secret
code, she clapped it out

In the others hand,
releasing how it may be
interpreted. A

Rhythm, a call and
response, strong, then soft, and
the question of how

It will be heard and
seen. Breath and memory, a catch
and confirmation. 3 years ago

LisaClings to the small boy, loses the respectable husband

I know you’re wrong for
me. I know you’re too clumsy
and would only say

I caused it. I know
I’m better off here on this
island in this hut

That I built with my
own hands, my nails turned into
talons to clear fields

Like a scythe. Too much
time will pass, and then you’ll try
to come back, but you

And I both know that
you’re wrong for me because you’ll
say it’s all my fault,

That I started it,
that I asked. And we’ll both live
together miserably.

I’d rather you just
stay away for good, with your
own conceit and let

Me find someone who
won’t blame all our problems on
me, who won’t call it

A ‘pattern’ and then
run away. Until then leave
me in peace with my

Bare hands and breath. I
sing low and sweet the work songs
of walking ahead,

So please don’t interrupt
with your ‘I,I,I,me,me’
rhythm that confuses me so. 3 years ago

LisaLiving torah

My past, our history
will become a story told
to the next one. In

Reality, we’ll
be dust blown over the ocean,
never to return.

I’d rather make this
one real, a living, breathing
document, almost

Mammal. I’d rather
be in your arms again than
be an anecdote

You tell your friends, new
lovers, and maybe even
the public. I’d wish

Instead to be your
torah portion instead of
your tabloid. Who we

Were could never be
explained with words. Only breath,
the sweet whisper of

A breeze against a
branch could explain the quiet
that was our connection,

Only rain, only the sun
now hiding behind the clouds,
could hint at our truest

Ideas of how we
came together, shoulder to
shoulder and then knew. 3 years ago

LisaI'm very tired poem

Genius of songs played
under helicopters and
fireworks, he played on. 3 years ago

LisaHexagram 55 'Be not like the sun at midday'

Going too fast, and
with my bradycardiac
condition! I hate

To run anywhere,
and Lord, do I hyperventilate
easy. It would be

Better to sit down
on the porch, sipping
chamomile juleps

And stare off in space.
We race the moon from waning
but it does anyway. 3 years ago

LisaSloppy summer poem (loosely based on the song 'Gatekeeper' by Feist)

It couldn’t, no it
couldn’t be the same as when…
the passage of time,

The sun beats down blooms
that were enthusiastic buds
in the Spring. Where did

I put my sun hat?
Only wool stocking caps answered
answered back. Meh! I

Left uncovered and
met the sun’s glare with
a welcoming grin. 3 years ago

Lisa 3 years ago

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