The more I travel, the more I realize I don't know. From my first trip involving a Passport stamp to Peru in 1998 to this past week's 4 cities in 3 days jaunt, I learn a lot on the when I'm on the road.  In 2010 and 2011, at the height of the Gowalla adventure, I did over 250,000 miles in the air (unfortunately not all on the same airline - start-up life.) In 2012, I was more grounded in NYC with my work. But already in 2013, I've been on the road for 15 days and hit 12 cities. When on the road, the circumstances lend themselves to learning. The disruption in the normal schedule lead to unexpected downtime and distance from the usual default time fillers.  When I leave for a trip I usually have at least two week's worth of Economist to catch up on and a book that remains only partial consumed because I am really good at falling asleep midparagraph when I try and read in the evenings at home.

I also learn from those that I meet will traveling that I wouldn't otherwise see in my New York bubble of interactions. Between airports and rental car counters and conference tables, life on the road puts you in close proximity to all kinds of people. And let's not even begin to dissect the irrational closeness of sleeping on a red-eye flight from SFO to JFK next to a big burly man in 26B.

As I look forward to the rest of 2013 and beyond, my work with Waze is going to keep my frequent flyer status feed and my carry-on packing skills sharp. But hopefully, it will also continue to lend itself to being the routine busting classroom that I have come to appreciate when I'm up in the air.

Annie and I went to the Whitney Museum this afternoon and worked our way through some fascinating exhibits and permanent installments. There was one painting that, for reasons not apparent to me in the moment, really jumped out at me in the room dedicated to artist Edward Hopper.

What really caught my eye in the descriptor next to the paining was the phrase "I'm after ME." It was buried in this sentence, "Asked once what he was trying to achieve on a painting, he answered, "I'm after ME." His aim was not to record outward appearances but to use his observations of the external world as vehicles through which to portray his inner life." (Learn more about the artist and this work HERE) As I read that, I wondered if the same wan't true in the "art" that I create. Now, I don't actually think about my writing and blogging as art, but it is the most consistent and public place that I share my thoughts and inspirations.

A friend of mine who is a reporter for a major news station shared this today on her Facebook wall: "I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” This quote by Joan Didion is exactly where I was going with my curiosity about Edward Hopper's pursuit of "ME." My writing, both in my personal notebooks and in public forums like this or Forbes, are as much about understanding what I understand about my world as it is sharing that understanding with anyone else.

So here's to that discovery and the revelations that come along with it.

Last night I watch Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a documentary featuring 85 year old Jiro Ono, arguably the world's greatest sushi chef. The movie chronicles his life, his restaurant, and the challenge that lies ahead as he and his 50 year old son work through a succession plan that will keep the legacy of his father's work preserved. The opening scene, Jiro explains his life work:

"Once you decide on your occupation... you must immerse yourself in your work. You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill. That's the secret of success... and is the key to being regarded honorably."

He was sent out into the world at the age of nine and became an apprentice at 10. He has been making sushi for over 75 years and for 75 years he has been searching for an even better version of his work. He says in the movie that every piece of sushi he serves is better than the one before. That when he does his work, he feels victorious. Every single day, repeating the same steps to create the same excellence, and pushing just a little bit harder to make it just a little bit better. Never settling.

His persistent and consistent work to create excellence and the expectation of his staff (minimum of ten year apprenticeship before they are allowed to be in the front of the restaurant) got me thinking about Malcolm Gladwell's "10,000 Hour Rule." It would certainly seem to apply here. But that rule also always gets me thinking, what have I spent 10,000 intention hours work to become the best at?

My career has been much more dynamic than Jiro's and anyone on Gladwell's list. The skill set that I've been asked to bring to the work I do can and does change with the task at hand. My aspirations of being a renaissance man seem more realistic than an master craftsman like Jiro. And there is nothing wrong with that, but, it does beg the question, of the skills that I use today and know I will use for the rest of my life, am I obsessed with making everyday's efforts better than the day before?

This week has been a sobering and strange time of inaction. I hate inaction. I am horrible at it. But as Timehop continues to send me my morning email detailing what kind of bold claims and inspirational quotes I made a year ago today on Twitter and Facebook about what 2012 would play out to become, I become more and more certain that 2012 will go down as a very forgettable year in the autobiography I probably will never write.

Every year since graduation from college has held some kind of memorable moment that I could hang the year on. A new job, a new city, a memorable trip, or a moment big enough it is now a part of my About Me page. This year? Nothing close. It wasn't a bad year the way that 2008 was, but it wasn't a year that I will look back on and wish it could have gone on longer.

All told, I can't wait for the calendar to flip to 2013 tomorrow.

But this eagerness to move on from 2012 and begin 2013 does give me pause. What is it about this year that left me hoping for more? What moments didn't happen that should have or what moments did happen but shouldn't have? Was 2011 such a big year that 2012 was doomed for forgetfulness?

And from the answers to those questions, what should and can be done to make sure that a year from today, when Timehop sends me this blog post in my daily email digest, that I don't feel the same frustration about 2013 and how lackluster it turned out to be?

I am not writing this post out of anger or frustration but from an ongoing battle to fight for transparency and truth in how I understand myself and the world I am creating around me.

2012 was pretty forgettable, but one thing that came out of the year that I know I do and always will look back on fondly, I got my first dog.

So from me and Rocco, here's to an incredible 2013.

Life is too short to spend time with people that don't think life is too short. — Andy Ellwood (@andyellwood) November 15, 2012