When I was 16, I was invited by two guys, Shane and Greg, to their buddy’s house on New Year’s Eve. By the time I arrived their buddy had long since left to pick up more partiers, so Shane and Greg had just been waiting around, drinking. They asked me if I wanted some of their Jack Daniels, but I took one whiff (and I’m not much of a drinker to begin with), said it smelled like turpentine and that I was “okay, thanks.”



Then they said, “Come into the bathroom. We want to show you something.” Even though Shane was a pretty sweet and easy going guy, I didn’t really know Greg, and you never know what’s going to happen in these situations, so I went in with my dukes ready in my pockets, prepared for anything.



They pulled out a firecracker.



Apparently, the wait for the party to get started was just for too long for them, so they had been propping fireworks on the edge of the toilet seat (aimed into the toilet) and lighting them. Their GOAL was to watch bubbles fly up out of the water and have a good laugh, which was what they had been doing since their bro left on his errand. I rolled my eyes and watched the boys be boys, relieved that they meant me no harm.



They lit the little rocket, perched it on the seat, and eagerly waited with big drunk smiles on their faces. The firecracker took off into the depths of the bowl.



And then the bowl exploded.



Not even an out-and-up explosion, shooting water out the top. I mean the bowels of the toilet blew out sideways and massive geysers of water burst out horizontally in every direction, splattering the tub, tiled walls, and the three of us. Broken chunks of white ceramic crashed to the floor with a loud SMASH! and Shane and Greg completely freaked out.



“Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd! Oh my gawd!” they shouted as they circled each other in the spacious bathroom, scooping wet chunks of toilet off the floor, cutting themselves in the process, and wringing their hands about what they were going to do when their buddy got home – which he did only a few minutes later. None of them had a Happy New Year.



The toilet incident is a true story, but it could be used as a parable for those of us trying to see our own fireworks.



What are YOUR goals, and what actions are you repeating to accomplish them? If this thing you’re working so hard to accomplish does explode, will it be amazing (like J.K. Rowling, Bill Gates, or Nelson Mandela), or will it blow up in your face (like Amy Winehouse (sadly), Bernie Madoff, or Hitler). Maybe you need to reassess your goals. Maybe you need to adjust how you’re going about it. Maybe you just need to keep on swimming. Only you can decide. And only you can change it.



You may think you’re doing the same things day in and out day out, but that’s impossible. I’m sure Shane and Greg thought so too, but maybe the trajectory was slightly different that last time. Maybe the depth was slightly different. Maybe the gunpowder was packed slightly differently into that last firecracker. Who knows what it was, but the point is that you never know which one is going to be THE BIG ONE.



Either way, don’t ever shoot explosives into your friend’s toilet.



Especially when his landlord lives in the apartment below.

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