I was in a meeting recently with several of my colleagues and a few new faces.  At the end of the meeting, one of the participants put a question to the group: “If you could have any career other than the one you have now, and you were guaranteed success, what would it be?”

It didn’t take me long to come up with my answer.  Immediately, images of my “other” self passed before my eyes.  I’m up on stage, guitar slung over my shoulder, leather pants and spiked heel boots, effortless cool oozing from every pore as I belt out my latest hit song. I am a Rock Star.  Not a Pop Star, à la Britney Spears or Beyoncé, I mean a real dirt and grit Rock Star.  I am Joan Jett circa 2009.

My colleagues had equally ambitious dreams, all of which suited their personalities: Novelist, Celebrity Chef, PGA Pro, Forensic Psychologist, and my personal favorite, Bat Boy for the New York Yankees.  I really loved this little exercise.  In every one of their responses I was given a glimpse of their “other” selves.  The people who don’t show up to work, but come alive at the end of the day when they walk in their back doors, uncork the wine and shrug off the day.

So how come I’m not a Rock Star, or at least trying to be one?  Why isn’t the guy down the hall a novelist?  Why isn’t his office mate a chef?  Why is it that, unless we are guaranteed success, our paths so often take on a tamer trajectory?  Is it a lack of the raw talent needed to achieve our dreams?  (I have to admit guitar and vocals are not my strong suit) Is it really that we can’t bear to fail?  Perhaps it’s practicality.  Or is it a lack of commitment?

Malcolm Gladwell’s latest book Outliers estimates that in order to be considered “expert” at something, you have to have committed a minimum of 10,000 hours to the pursuit.  In the vein of rock stardom, he cites the Beatles as a famous example.  They did not achieve their remarkable synchronicity by chance.  They spent night after night after night in the bars and clubs of Liverpool perfecting their craft. 

Which brings me to New Year’s Resolutions, the most easily broken of our annual “commitments.”  Most people I know consider them the bane of holiday rituals, and I confess I never make them.  I think this is because our resolutions are too often punishing, committing us to a life of deprivation sans junk food, cigarettes, or whatever vice we hold dear.  But this year I just might.  Perhaps I will make a commitment to my “other” self, my inner Rock Star.  Maybe I’ll buy Guitar Hero and give it a whirl or sign up for a live karaoke spot.  Maybe I’ll challenge my colleagues to the same.  Who knows, if I put in my 10,000 hours, the next time you see me I could be headlining at Madison Square Garden.