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Entry No.

The Vapid Goal

Maven Research #39: The Vapid Goal.

VAPID Goals: The Concorde of Self-Sabotage (A Recipe for Maximum Disappointment)

Ah, goals—those shiny, aspirational promises we make to ourselves like a New Year’s resolution is a lifetime commitment rather than a drunken January pledge. We’ve all been there: staring at our reflection in the gym mirror, vowing to “get in shape” (read: lose 20 pounds by summer while secretly eating cold pizza at 2 AM), or declaring we’ll “write a novel” (aka 500 words of existential dread in a notebook we’ll never finish). But what if I told you the secret to true misery isn’t just procrastination—it’s setting goals so impossibly vague, pointless, and self-defeating that even the Concorde would weep with envy? Welcome to the VAPID Goal, where ambition meets its match: regret with a side of existential dread.

The Concorde wasn’t just a failed jet—it was a statement. A $26 billion love letter to pride that ended up costing more than it could ever earn. And just like the Concorde, your VAPID Goals are designed to be magnificent in theory, a financial and emotional black hole in practice. So grab your metaphorical wrench, because today we’re building a goal so spectacularly useless, it’ll make your therapist question their life choices.

VAPID Goals: The Ultimate Recipe for Failure

Yields: One shattered soul, a lifetime supply of “almosts,” and approximately 12 hours of wasted time you’ll never get back.

Ingredients:

  • 1 cup of unmeasurable ambition (e.g., “I want to be more”)
  • ½ tsp of public humiliation (for the Concorde Maneuver)
  • 1 tbsp of pointless hobbies (e.g., learning to juggle chainsaws)
  • Âź cup of existential dread (stir well)
  • 1 tsp of procrastination (essential for texture)
  • 1 dash of self-loathing (adjust to taste)
  • 1 “impossible” (e.g., “I’ll start a tech empire by next Tuesday”)

Instructions:

  1. Mix the Ambition (Vague) Start by stirring together your unmeasurable ambition and existential dread. Avoid anything specific—no “I’ll run a marathon” nonsense. Instead, opt for the classics: “I want to be a better person” or “I’ll find my passion.” Pro tip: If you can’t define it in 30 seconds, you’ve got the right level of vagueness. This is where the magic happens—like a goal-shaped cloud with no rain.

  2. Add the Pointless (Pointless) Now, pour in your pointless hobbies. Need inspiration? Try “I’ll master the art of silent meditation” while your rent is late, or “I’ll learn to speak Flamingo” (bonus points if you’re already bad at small talk). The key is to ensure your goal has zero practical value—like a Ferrari with no engine. This step is where you’ll start to feel the first whispers of regret, but don’t worry, it’s just the goal whispering sweet nothings of failure.

  3. Stir in the Impossible (Impossible) Next, add your impossible goal. This isn’t about “I’ll lose 10 pounds”—this is “I’ll invent a time machine by my 30th birthday.” Or, if you’re feeling really ambitious, “I’ll become a world-famous poet while my cat judges me silently.” The wider the gap between your current reality and your goal, the better. This is where you’ll start to feel the first true thrill of self-sabotage—like a financial advisor who’s also a pyromaniac.

  4. Season with Procrastination (Procrastination) Now, add your procrastination and stir vigorously. This is where the real fun begins. Schedule your goal for “next month” or “when I have more time” (aka never). Remember, the goal isn’t to achieve—it’s to fail spectacularly while convincing yourself you’re “just getting started.”

  5. Bake at High Heat (Distracting) Pop your mixture into the oven (or your brain’s “to-do later” folder) and set it to “distracting mode.” Use your VAPID Goal as a shield to avoid the real problems in your life—like your crumbling relationships, your stagnant career, or the fact that you’ve been eating cereal for dinner for three weeks. This is where you’ll start to feel the first true joy of avoidance—like a toddler playing with a toy instead of facing their emotions.

  6. Serve with a Side of Public Humiliation (Concorde Maneuver) Finally, announce your goal to the world. Post it on social media, tell your friends, or write it on a napkin in a coffee shop. This ensures that when you inevitably abandon it (after spending $300 on a “life coach” who’s just a guy with a dog), you’ll have the perfect story to tell your therapist. Congratulations, you’ve just turned your failure into a party trick.

Note from the Chef:

“This recipe is not for the faint of heart. If you’re looking for success, go write a to-do list with actual deadlines. But if you’re here for the art of the long, slow burn—the kind of goal that lets you feel like a hero while quietly dying inside—then you’re in the right place. Just remember: the best VAPID Goals are the ones that sound impressive until you ask, ‘Wait, why?’”

Conclusion: So there you have it—the VAPID Goal, a masterclass in how to turn ambition into a black hole of regret. It’s like the Concorde, but for your soul: expensive, impractical, and doomed from the start. The beauty of it is that you’ll spend years pretending you’re this close to achieving it, all while your life quietly unravels around you. And when you finally give up—because you will—you’ll look back and think, “Well, at least I tried.” Spoiler: You didn’t. But hey, at least you had a story.

Now go forth and set a goal so ridiculous, even your future self will roll their eyes. Just don’t blame me when you realize you’ve spent the last decade learning to juggle flaming torches while your life burned down around you. Mic drop.