When you start a new venture, it’s always good to formulate in your mind what it is you’re trying to do.
Even better than formulating it in your mind is writing it down. Putting words on paper forces you to see whether or not you’ve thought things out to the extent that you think you did, and to the extent that you definitely need to have.
It forces you to be real with yourself.
This is not to say that things won’t change. In fact, they should change – if they don’t, you’re doing something wrong. Because no one is so brilliant they can conceive in their mind the perfect flawless plan.
Here’s a clip of what Randy Komisar has to say on business plans (check out his book, “The Monk and the Riddle,” and also “Getting to Plan B,” they’re great reads for everyone, not just entrepreneurs):
“Plans are too often a straightjacket for innovation. They are built on dreams and assumptions. Without more, they are likely to fail…”
That being said, it’s still necessary to have a Plan A. So here goes. This is how I now (at this moment in time) envision this blog, and here are the goals I have for it:
1 I will use it to establish myself as a major voice in the arena of youth (motivated) depression
2 It will force me to incrementally write portions of my book (more on that to come in a later post)
3 Soon (I know the content is heavily personal so far) it will provide resources for those who suffer from depression – all with my own personal twist, of course. For now, I’m thinking almost SparkNotes for available depression resources, but more entertaining.
4 I will use it as a platform to carry out brainstorming for my social venture
5 Perhaps my greatest hope for it: Through this blog, I will assemble a mastermind alliance of people – sufferers of depression, friends of those who suffer from depression, health professionals, entrepreneurs, innovative thinkers, etc – who together will solve the challenge of helping the motivated depressed defeat their depression and unleash their potential upon the world. (read Napolean Hill’s “Keys to Success” for an understanding of the term mastermind alliance)
6 And lastly, I will use it to chronicle my journey and enrich my life.
So there it is!
And now that I’ve formulated Plan A, I can metaphorically crumple up the plan, and with an elegant flick of my wrist (I'm an ultimate player), toss it out.
Any real entrepreneur knows that business is more about rolling up the sleeves and doing things than talking about them and planning to do them, right?
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Monday, November 30, 2009
On Motivation Part II - Being mentally tough and making use of haters
Several hours ago today, I was working on a completely different entry for this blog when something occurred that greatly disturbed my equilibrium – so much so that my chest got tight, and I found it slightly difficult to breathe. I had to stop writing, go change clothes, jog through the rain and to the gym, and do a work out (lower body + abs) to relieve my stress.
But let me rewind to give you some context.
As I mentioned in a previous post – and really it’s abundantly clear on its own, without being voiced – a blog is damn near useless unless people read it (and, I might add, think about what they read).
Now, I’ve been disappointingly lazy when it comes to marketing my blog online through the blogosphere, partly because technology is not at all my forte, and partly because I value creating substantial content first, before selling empty air. Still, I do realize I need to get more people reading right away.
With that in mind, this morning I took a quick inventory of what I am good at doing and came up with…showing up in person.
Sometimes to places I don’t really have any place showing up to.
Being that Olin College of Engineering is where I found three awesome people to work with and bounce ideas off of (shoutout to Alyshia, Hari, and Colin), and being that there are only 300 or so students there (read, manageable), I decided upon Olin as my first target.
Milas Hall – that’s where Olin’s library is located – opens to the general public at 9 AM on Mondays through Fridays, so a little after 8:30 or so I got in my car and drove over. I arrived almost right at 9, parked my car in Lot B, and hauled my printer over to Milas. (I keep my printer in my car because I often find myself in situations where I need on-the-spot printing. Really.)
I went into one of their closed-off rooms so as not to be noisy, quickly made a poster on Word that I thought was at least moderately enticing, then printed out 50 copies. Then I went to a few of their buildings – they only have five – and did the simplest version of the whole guerilla-marketing thing.
That is, I left an obnoxious amount of posters – on every single public table in the entry level of their library, on every single public table of their academic building (on all four floors), and on a few of the bulletin boards in their campus center.
No big deal, right? It was a quick job, though by the end of it I was sweating a bit from lugging around the printer.
Afterwards, I drove over to Wellesley College nearby – I already had some business to look into – and put up the remaining posters there. Several very kind women there, either professors or administrators I’d guess, even offered to put up a few on their department bulletin boards.
I drove home thinking to myself, a good morning’s work. Mental pat on the back for this guy.
Now, flash forward to the pseudo-angina-inducing event.
I opened my email and found this (I’ve concealed the contact info for the sender):
Date: Mon, 30 Nov 2009 11:49:17 -0600
From:
Subject: Who even are you?
To: "dhu13@uchicago.edu" <dhu13@uchicago.edu>
And why are these signs on my campus? I'm honestly kind of offended that you think I might care about your money or your blog. Your flyers are litter. I'm trashing them.
For a brief moment, my world crashed in on me.
Now I’m a very tough person, mentally (physically, not so much). Probably one of the toughest I know – and I’m not one to exaggerate my strengths.
Things that bother most people don’t faze me the slightest. And that’s probably just a product of the fact that I don’t care about most of the things most people care about. The fact that I value being true to my (constantly evolving) self more than I value fitting in.
When people give me shit, I immediately internalize it. Note that I said I internalize it. I don’t block it out, or ignore it, or dismiss it. I internalize it.
Here’s the thing about being mentally tough.
It does NOT mean you are callous. In fact, hardening yourself to the world is nothing but a façade for deep insecurity. That’s the equivalent to having “a left hook that would move a tank” but “a heart the size of a split pea,” to quote Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby. You can knock out all of your feelings, but you’re still small on the inside. You don’t have heart.
George Bernard Shaw would go so far as to say that being indifferent is not only cowardly, but inhumane as well:
“Indifference is the essence of inhumanity.”
And this draws an interesting parallel with the state of people who suffer from severe depression – we become so indifferent to everything that we truly feel like we are not human.
But that is a hefty tangent topic for a separate post on a separate occasion.
For now, let’s return to the story:
I opened this email, and it brought back in one flood of emotion all of the doubts I had in myself during the past few weeks.
I’m not sure you’ve ever been in this kind of situation (I touched on what it’s like in an earlier post, “On Change – Making the best of it”). But when you are outside of the mainstream, and don’t really have any set place in society, you pretty much have one of two options.
1 You pass time in isolation, and unable to force any sort of discipline or structure upon yourself, you underachieve and squander your potential away. You blame these failures on simply not being in the right place, at the right time, with the right people.
But I’ve always thought that the loss of human potential is one of the most heart-breaking things in the universe, and it’s infinitely more pathetic if it’s due to your own agency, or lack thereof.
Option 1 clearly doesn’t work for me.
2 You seek out and create the environment you need to thrive in, overcoming all barriers that stand in your way to do so. You find the right places, wait preparedly for chance to favor you, and forge the connections with the people you need.
Much better. (sorry I sound like a motivational speaker, but I’m being honest here)
This is what I did at Olin. I also did it at Babson and at Wellesley.
I showed up.
Now keep in mind, this will only work if you have a firm purpose in mind. Nobody’s going to be receptive to you if you just go there and mess around.
But I knew exactly what I wanted: to start a social venture that will help smart driven college students suffering from depression – the “motivated depressed” – overcome their depression.
And because of this firmness of purpose and my willingness to show up, I opened up a whole new world for myself (with the help of many people, of course).
Along the way, I’ve encountered many obstacles, both situational and Homo sapien. The situational ones don’t bother me so much, because they are usually of the binary type – you either can change them, or you can’t.
But the human obstacles – doubters, haters, and naysayers – they kill me sometimes.
Because I know they can be changed.
I know there are some people out there who hate my guts. People who resent me for not “paying my dues” by getting a degree at “my own” college. People who despise me for free-riding on their resources.
To be honest, I understand their point of view. Sometimes when I feel their resentment – and it really can be a tangible real feeling – I feel ashamed of myself. Call it induced shame, or shame by osmosis.
Seriously, there’s no question, there have been times when I’ve used resources in ways that I’ve been uncomfortable with.
Holding my head high and keeping respect for myself during these times require me to be mentally tough.
Just to be clear, I don’t see myself as some sort of moral crusader on a path to save the world (who can therefore disregard rules and do as he pleases). No, I acknowledge that I am enormously flawed. I identify as a moral pragmatist, and sometimes I do things for the sake of convenience/expediency.
I do take shelter in the fact that ultimately I mean well, and that I not only mean well, but have the guts, the smarts, and the perseverance to do well.
Which I believe is a lot more than a lot of rule-abiding people can say.
There are a lot of inoffensive people in this world, but not quite so many effective people in this world – people who can get things done.
There is no question in my mind that I am one of these people, though only time will prove me right.
I hope that one day more people will be able to see this way – will be willing to break rules and forego policy for the sake of getting things done.
But in the meantime, I take shit from the haters, and I have my mechanisms for coping with this shit.
I internalize all criticism. Which means that it sticks with me – lingers on my mind long after it is said. If I find there’s truth to it, I incorporate it. I change myself. When you’re in unknown territory, you’re going to make mistakes. As long as you correct them and don’t repeat them, you’re doing great. But if I find the criticism to be shallow, reactionary, and useless, I use the hater's ignorance and spiteful words to fuel my ambition.
I keep in mind who I am, where I come from, and how much I’ve struggled to get to where I am. I remember how grateful I am for what I have, and how I intend to repay all of my debts. I remember my roots. They’re called roots for a reason – they ground you, hold you steady in times of difficulty.
I stay mentally tough.
And that’s exactly what I did when I received that email. My world crashed for a moment, but I gathered myself and responded with a kind and understanding email (not a scathing reply).
And you know what?
Once the guy found out more about my situation and about the blog (and really this was my mistake – a marketing mistake – for not including specifics on what the blog was about), he gave me some useful advice and wished me good luck.
TO RECAP AND SUMMARIZE:
I suspect there will always be those who see me as an intrusive asshole who has no respect for policy. Here's how I deal with it:
-I continue to show up, and don't let anything shake my firmness of purpose
-I internalize all criticism, using the good criticism to change myself, and using the useless criticism to fuel my ambition
-I remember my roots
-I stay grateful for everything I have, for all the people that have supported me, and remember that one day I will repay them back in full and more
I'm going to end with two quotes that I resonate with:
"N- n- now th- that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger..."
-Kanye West's way overplayed "Stronger"
And George Bernard Shaw again:
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."
Sometimes you just have to do what you know you have to do.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
But let me rewind to give you some context.
As I mentioned in a previous post – and really it’s abundantly clear on its own, without being voiced – a blog is damn near useless unless people read it (and, I might add, think about what they read).
Now, I’ve been disappointingly lazy when it comes to marketing my blog online through the blogosphere, partly because technology is not at all my forte, and partly because I value creating substantial content first, before selling empty air. Still, I do realize I need to get more people reading right away.
With that in mind, this morning I took a quick inventory of what I am good at doing and came up with…showing up in person.
Sometimes to places I don’t really have any place showing up to.
Being that Olin College of Engineering is where I found three awesome people to work with and bounce ideas off of (shoutout to Alyshia, Hari, and Colin), and being that there are only 300 or so students there (read, manageable), I decided upon Olin as my first target.
Milas Hall – that’s where Olin’s library is located – opens to the general public at 9 AM on Mondays through Fridays, so a little after 8:30 or so I got in my car and drove over. I arrived almost right at 9, parked my car in Lot B, and hauled my printer over to Milas. (I keep my printer in my car because I often find myself in situations where I need on-the-spot printing. Really.)
I went into one of their closed-off rooms so as not to be noisy, quickly made a poster on Word that I thought was at least moderately enticing, then printed out 50 copies. Then I went to a few of their buildings – they only have five – and did the simplest version of the whole guerilla-marketing thing.
That is, I left an obnoxious amount of posters – on every single public table in the entry level of their library, on every single public table of their academic building (on all four floors), and on a few of the bulletin boards in their campus center.
No big deal, right? It was a quick job, though by the end of it I was sweating a bit from lugging around the printer.
Afterwards, I drove over to Wellesley College nearby – I already had some business to look into – and put up the remaining posters there. Several very kind women there, either professors or administrators I’d guess, even offered to put up a few on their department bulletin boards.
I drove home thinking to myself, a good morning’s work. Mental pat on the back for this guy.
Now, flash forward to the pseudo-angina-inducing event.
I opened my email and found this (I’ve concealed the contact info for the sender):
Date: Mon, 30 Nov 2009 11:49:17 -0600
From:
Subject: Who even are you?
To: "dhu13@uchicago.edu" <dhu13@uchicago.edu>
And why are these signs on my campus? I'm honestly kind of offended that you think I might care about your money or your blog. Your flyers are litter. I'm trashing them.
For a brief moment, my world crashed in on me.
Now I’m a very tough person, mentally (physically, not so much). Probably one of the toughest I know – and I’m not one to exaggerate my strengths.
Things that bother most people don’t faze me the slightest. And that’s probably just a product of the fact that I don’t care about most of the things most people care about. The fact that I value being true to my (constantly evolving) self more than I value fitting in.
When people give me shit, I immediately internalize it. Note that I said I internalize it. I don’t block it out, or ignore it, or dismiss it. I internalize it.
Here’s the thing about being mentally tough.
It does NOT mean you are callous. In fact, hardening yourself to the world is nothing but a façade for deep insecurity. That’s the equivalent to having “a left hook that would move a tank” but “a heart the size of a split pea,” to quote Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby. You can knock out all of your feelings, but you’re still small on the inside. You don’t have heart.
George Bernard Shaw would go so far as to say that being indifferent is not only cowardly, but inhumane as well:
“Indifference is the essence of inhumanity.”
And this draws an interesting parallel with the state of people who suffer from severe depression – we become so indifferent to everything that we truly feel like we are not human.
But that is a hefty tangent topic for a separate post on a separate occasion.
For now, let’s return to the story:
I opened this email, and it brought back in one flood of emotion all of the doubts I had in myself during the past few weeks.
I’m not sure you’ve ever been in this kind of situation (I touched on what it’s like in an earlier post, “On Change – Making the best of it”). But when you are outside of the mainstream, and don’t really have any set place in society, you pretty much have one of two options.
1 You pass time in isolation, and unable to force any sort of discipline or structure upon yourself, you underachieve and squander your potential away. You blame these failures on simply not being in the right place, at the right time, with the right people.
But I’ve always thought that the loss of human potential is one of the most heart-breaking things in the universe, and it’s infinitely more pathetic if it’s due to your own agency, or lack thereof.
Option 1 clearly doesn’t work for me.
2 You seek out and create the environment you need to thrive in, overcoming all barriers that stand in your way to do so. You find the right places, wait preparedly for chance to favor you, and forge the connections with the people you need.
Much better. (sorry I sound like a motivational speaker, but I’m being honest here)
This is what I did at Olin. I also did it at Babson and at Wellesley.
I showed up.
Now keep in mind, this will only work if you have a firm purpose in mind. Nobody’s going to be receptive to you if you just go there and mess around.
But I knew exactly what I wanted: to start a social venture that will help smart driven college students suffering from depression – the “motivated depressed” – overcome their depression.
And because of this firmness of purpose and my willingness to show up, I opened up a whole new world for myself (with the help of many people, of course).
Along the way, I’ve encountered many obstacles, both situational and Homo sapien. The situational ones don’t bother me so much, because they are usually of the binary type – you either can change them, or you can’t.
But the human obstacles – doubters, haters, and naysayers – they kill me sometimes.
Because I know they can be changed.
I know there are some people out there who hate my guts. People who resent me for not “paying my dues” by getting a degree at “my own” college. People who despise me for free-riding on their resources.
To be honest, I understand their point of view. Sometimes when I feel their resentment – and it really can be a tangible real feeling – I feel ashamed of myself. Call it induced shame, or shame by osmosis.
Seriously, there’s no question, there have been times when I’ve used resources in ways that I’ve been uncomfortable with.
Holding my head high and keeping respect for myself during these times require me to be mentally tough.
Just to be clear, I don’t see myself as some sort of moral crusader on a path to save the world (who can therefore disregard rules and do as he pleases). No, I acknowledge that I am enormously flawed. I identify as a moral pragmatist, and sometimes I do things for the sake of convenience/expediency.
I do take shelter in the fact that ultimately I mean well, and that I not only mean well, but have the guts, the smarts, and the perseverance to do well.
Which I believe is a lot more than a lot of rule-abiding people can say.
There are a lot of inoffensive people in this world, but not quite so many effective people in this world – people who can get things done.
There is no question in my mind that I am one of these people, though only time will prove me right.
I hope that one day more people will be able to see this way – will be willing to break rules and forego policy for the sake of getting things done.
But in the meantime, I take shit from the haters, and I have my mechanisms for coping with this shit.
I internalize all criticism. Which means that it sticks with me – lingers on my mind long after it is said. If I find there’s truth to it, I incorporate it. I change myself. When you’re in unknown territory, you’re going to make mistakes. As long as you correct them and don’t repeat them, you’re doing great. But if I find the criticism to be shallow, reactionary, and useless, I use the hater's ignorance and spiteful words to fuel my ambition.
I keep in mind who I am, where I come from, and how much I’ve struggled to get to where I am. I remember how grateful I am for what I have, and how I intend to repay all of my debts. I remember my roots. They’re called roots for a reason – they ground you, hold you steady in times of difficulty.
I stay mentally tough.
And that’s exactly what I did when I received that email. My world crashed for a moment, but I gathered myself and responded with a kind and understanding email (not a scathing reply).
And you know what?
Once the guy found out more about my situation and about the blog (and really this was my mistake – a marketing mistake – for not including specifics on what the blog was about), he gave me some useful advice and wished me good luck.
TO RECAP AND SUMMARIZE:
I suspect there will always be those who see me as an intrusive asshole who has no respect for policy. Here's how I deal with it:
-I continue to show up, and don't let anything shake my firmness of purpose
-I internalize all criticism, using the good criticism to change myself, and using the useless criticism to fuel my ambition
-I remember my roots
-I stay grateful for everything I have, for all the people that have supported me, and remember that one day I will repay them back in full and more
I'm going to end with two quotes that I resonate with:
"N- n- now th- that don't kill me
Can only make me stronger..."
-Kanye West's way overplayed "Stronger"
And George Bernard Shaw again:
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."
Sometimes you just have to do what you know you have to do.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Sunday, November 29, 2009
On Privacy - My father
As I think about the future of this blog, I face a dilemma.
To tell or not to tell? That is the question.
Privacy can be a contentious issue in American society, and there has even been debate over whether or not the right to privacy is protected by the United States Constitution (if not explicitly, then implicitly). Constitutions in ten of the states do explicitly recognize the right to privacy.
The fact that we live in the Digital/Information Age only complicates the issue. This is certainly the case when it comes to blogging.
At first glance, blogging seems to be the very antithesis of privacy. By the very virtue of starting a blog, you essentially state to the world, “I have something to say worth your time! Come read my words!”
That is, you invite people to enter your world.
So you share. You bless the world with your thoughts on whatever it is that is so important to you, or on whatever strikes your fancy.
But where to draw the line? At what point does sharing become oversharing?
Yes, blogging is not a very private thing to do. But there are things to consider. Reputation. Possible future regrets. Family and friends. Their reputations and possible future regrets.
Thus far, I think I’ve managed to limit my material exclusively to myself, but who knows what or whom I will choose to write about in the future? I know I must tread carefully once other people – especially people I care about, but all people in general – come into play.
Even when it comes to myself, I experience tension in choosing what to include. While I can be a very outgoing person, in my heart of hearts I am also one of the most private people I know.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton once delivered an address before the Committee of the Judiciary of the United States Congress (1892), titled the “The Solitude of Self.” She delivered it to help sway minds in the fight to ratify what was at the time the Sixteenth Amendment (in favor of women’s suffrage), but it’s appropriate here too. There’s some incredible stuff in there – I definitely recommend you check it out – but here’s one quote that fits my purpose for now:
"In youth our most bitter disappointments, our brightest hopes and ambitions, are known only to ourselves. Even our friendship and love we never fully share with another; there is something of every passion, in every situation, we conceal. Even so in our triumphs and our defeats."
(Thank you, University of Chicago, for putting Elizabeth Cady Stanton on my radar)
What she gets at is that although we are social beings, we are also fundamentally private beings. It would be foolish, and frankly impossible, to share every little detail of every experience with someone. For one thing, you’d lose your voice. But there are also some things we know and feel and experience, but simply can’t – and shouldn’t – articulate.
It’s been said that we Americans have no understanding of the value of privacy. Always gawking at celebrities on TV, and when that’s not available, gossiping about each others’ lives behind each others’ backs.
I do find the existence of the paparazzi to be pretty disappointing.
But to get back to the original point.
I admit, when I first started this entry, I was thinking of one person – my father.
My father is a man who has been everything to me.
His presence – and absence – profoundly shaped my youth.
When I struggled with the severest of my depression, he was my teacher, my cheerleader, my researcher, my friend, and my advocate.
He was my crutch.
But he is the most private of men, and someone who hates to talk about difficulties.
He hates this blog.
I respect that.
But everything being considered today, I choose to move forward and continue to share my life with you – even some of the more private moments. I hope that is alright.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
To tell or not to tell? That is the question.
Privacy can be a contentious issue in American society, and there has even been debate over whether or not the right to privacy is protected by the United States Constitution (if not explicitly, then implicitly). Constitutions in ten of the states do explicitly recognize the right to privacy.
The fact that we live in the Digital/Information Age only complicates the issue. This is certainly the case when it comes to blogging.
At first glance, blogging seems to be the very antithesis of privacy. By the very virtue of starting a blog, you essentially state to the world, “I have something to say worth your time! Come read my words!”
That is, you invite people to enter your world.
So you share. You bless the world with your thoughts on whatever it is that is so important to you, or on whatever strikes your fancy.
But where to draw the line? At what point does sharing become oversharing?
Yes, blogging is not a very private thing to do. But there are things to consider. Reputation. Possible future regrets. Family and friends. Their reputations and possible future regrets.
Thus far, I think I’ve managed to limit my material exclusively to myself, but who knows what or whom I will choose to write about in the future? I know I must tread carefully once other people – especially people I care about, but all people in general – come into play.
Even when it comes to myself, I experience tension in choosing what to include. While I can be a very outgoing person, in my heart of hearts I am also one of the most private people I know.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton once delivered an address before the Committee of the Judiciary of the United States Congress (1892), titled the “The Solitude of Self.” She delivered it to help sway minds in the fight to ratify what was at the time the Sixteenth Amendment (in favor of women’s suffrage), but it’s appropriate here too. There’s some incredible stuff in there – I definitely recommend you check it out – but here’s one quote that fits my purpose for now:
"In youth our most bitter disappointments, our brightest hopes and ambitions, are known only to ourselves. Even our friendship and love we never fully share with another; there is something of every passion, in every situation, we conceal. Even so in our triumphs and our defeats."
(Thank you, University of Chicago, for putting Elizabeth Cady Stanton on my radar)
What she gets at is that although we are social beings, we are also fundamentally private beings. It would be foolish, and frankly impossible, to share every little detail of every experience with someone. For one thing, you’d lose your voice. But there are also some things we know and feel and experience, but simply can’t – and shouldn’t – articulate.
It’s been said that we Americans have no understanding of the value of privacy. Always gawking at celebrities on TV, and when that’s not available, gossiping about each others’ lives behind each others’ backs.
I do find the existence of the paparazzi to be pretty disappointing.
But to get back to the original point.
I admit, when I first started this entry, I was thinking of one person – my father.
My father is a man who has been everything to me.
His presence – and absence – profoundly shaped my youth.
When I struggled with the severest of my depression, he was my teacher, my cheerleader, my researcher, my friend, and my advocate.
He was my crutch.
But he is the most private of men, and someone who hates to talk about difficulties.
He hates this blog.
I respect that.
But everything being considered today, I choose to move forward and continue to share my life with you – even some of the more private moments. I hope that is alright.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Saturday, November 28, 2009
On Gratitude - Intro (Thanksgiving)
As I reflect on how far I've come in the past couple of years, it strikes me hard just how many people I have to thank for helping me to get where I am today.
With that in mind, I've decided to start an ongoing series of posts on Gratitude, of which this is the introductory post. And what better way to start than with Thanksgiving (ish)!
So shoutout to the Zipersteins in Amherst, and to their extended family and friends. That's Dory, Fran, Grandma, Josh, Deb, Adam (X2), Lindsay, David, Shel, Hannah, the kids (Parker, Hope, Sammy, Caleb, Emily, and Kelsy), and last but not least Jasper! (there were a few other adults whose names I didn't quite catch, sorry about that)
Thanks for a wonderful Thanksgiving, filled with delicious food and outstanding company - two of my favorite things in life!
Hope everybody else had a great Thanksgiving too!
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
With that in mind, I've decided to start an ongoing series of posts on Gratitude, of which this is the introductory post. And what better way to start than with Thanksgiving (ish)!
So shoutout to the Zipersteins in Amherst, and to their extended family and friends. That's Dory, Fran, Grandma, Josh, Deb, Adam (X2), Lindsay, David, Shel, Hannah, the kids (Parker, Hope, Sammy, Caleb, Emily, and Kelsy), and last but not least Jasper! (there were a few other adults whose names I didn't quite catch, sorry about that)
Thanks for a wonderful Thanksgiving, filled with delicious food and outstanding company - two of my favorite things in life!
Hope everybody else had a great Thanksgiving too!
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
On Test Driving a New Profession – My introduction to the world of modeling (Part II)
***
So I’m in my car, headed towards 368 W Broadway, South Boston, MA, 02127 – Ms. Carol Evans’ photography studio.
It’s pouring outside, and if I zone out, take my eyes off the road, and focus on the windshield, I can see the individual rain drops go splat against the windshield, expanding outwards in diameter until my windshield wipers wipe them away into oblivion.
It’s what most people would call a dreary day, and even though I very much like rain, I feel a bit post-holiday bluesy, no denying it.
It occurs to me that this is not a good mood to be in for a photo shoot. I know I absolutely need to be on my game – need to feel the confidence flowing through my veins. Because what I feel deep inside is going to show through and be captured on camera – there's no hope of hiding it.
So I try to play mind tricks on myself. I switch the radio to R&B/hip-hop stations, turn up the jams, and pretend I’m smooth like Ne-Yo. David Guetta’s “Sexy Chick” comes on, and I tell myself damn, you’re a sexy guy…a sexy guy…
It’s not working, because I’m fully aware that I don’t ever think of myself as sexy, and it would be absurd to start now.
But then I take exit 25 for South Boston and emerge from the tunnel, and I feel the pressure again, that anxiety. And it hits me yet again that I’m actually going to be a model, at least for a day.
I pull onto the letter streets (D street) and get closer and closer. Finally, the Garmin announces, “Arriving at 368 W Broadway, on left,” and almost as if willed by fate, a car on my left pulls out from its parking spot on the street as I pass it. I’m absolutely thrilled, because finding parking can be a major stressor if the process gets prolonged – and I really don’t want to pay for a parking garage.
I’m half an hour early, and when I call Carol she tells me she’s not there yet, but there’s a coffee place a few doors down. Not wanting to stand in the rain and cold, I walk towards it, duffel bag of clothes in tow – pretty much all the clothes I own, plus a few hundred dollars worth of things I picked up from the mall (tags still attached, since I plan on returning them right after the shoot). I quickly pass about half an hour in Café Arpeggio, checking and sending a few emails.
When I walk back to the studio, I find the door propped open. I step in. A guy in a windbreaker and hat trails me in and asks, “Hey, are you looking for Carol?” I answer yes, and he tells me she’s on the fourth floor. Again, he follows me into the elevator. “I’ll come up with you.”
We chat a bit, and I find out Carol has been working in the area for quite some time, maybe 15 years if I remember correctly. After what seems like an awkward pause between the third and fourth floors, the door finally dings open, and I step out. He directs me to the second door on the right, and I knock, three strong and one last gentler one, because that’s how I always do it.
“Who is it?” a voice calls. “David.” The door opens.
Carol is tall and thin, and she’s wearing all black from head to shiny black boots, except for her red lipstick. She looks like she may have been a model herself in the past, and in general she looks very artsy. She doesn’t smile much, or give off any hints of strong emotion, really. All business.
Judging by the exterior of the building, you never would have been able to guess it would be this spacious. While I can’t see the inside of the studio – the entrance is sectioned off by some makeshift walls, I guess to provide sanctuary and privacy for the artists/models at work – I can see how high the ceilings are.
She tells me to step into the changing area, also sectioned off from the studio, and remove my clothes from my bags. While I do this, I hear the snapping of a camera. From what I learn later, she must have been messing with and adjusting the lighting. She pretty much ignores me until I walk out myself and tell her I’m ready.
Carol puts aside her camera and leads me back into the changing room to examine the clothes I’ve brought. I get a little nervous because I’m not exactly a fashion guru, and I generally value comfort over style, although I like to think I have at least some sense of style when I want to.
Finally she settles on an outfit (we’re set to do 2 outfits today) – a blue Calvin Klein sweater that I have, with my brown leather jacket that I wear all the time on top of that. She says the pants I have on – brown Dockers khakis – are fine. So she steps out to let me change.
Snap, snap, snap, I hear again.
I start to undress and take off the plaid shirt I have on, then realize I have another sweater just like the blue Calvin Klein one that’s green that I forgot to take out of my bag, and I step out to go ask her if she has a preference, blue or green.
She says she doesn’t care, either is fine, then adds, “I like what you have on now, though, we’ll do one with just that.”
Huh? I look down. Having taken off my plaid shirt, I’ve got on nothing but what’s basically a Nike wife beater – something that my friends constantly give me shit for wearing. I can’t help it – I just love the freedom of sleeveless when I’m hanging around inside.
“Really?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yeah,” she confirms. “You’ve got great arms.”
Being that she’s the one who knows what’s up, I push my doubts aside and emerge from the changing room, wearing brown khakis and black wifebeater, plus my Sambas. I get my first full view of the studio, and it’s incredibly spacious, with large white walls, as if somebody wanted the real physical embodiment of a blank canvas – a tabula rasa.
I start tucking in the wifebeater so it looks a bit neater – another thing that my friends give me shit for. Apparently, it’s not okay to tuck stuff in when you’re young in America.
She tells me she’ll help me out with that, then stops mid-thought and asks me, “Wait, are you sick?”
“Yeah, a little. Why?” Then I realize she was going to help me tuck in my shirt with her own hands, and I quickly reassure her I can take care of it. I’ve never really been comfortable with people touching me, even though I know she’s an absolute professional.
“I can’t afford to get sick, anyway. Not in this business,” she tells me.
She orders me to stand in front of a tall white screen that extends nearly to the ceiling, and with her hand guides me under some sort of pole that’s part of the lighting setup. I position myself accordingly, and I feel quite naked in my wife-beater, even though I wear this exact outfit quite often.
It’s because of the camera, and the situation, of course. It’s all about context.
Before I’m ready, and without any signal, she starts taking pictures of me. She quickly reassures me it’s alright, she’s just checking to make sure the lighting works well with me.
Then we start for real.
And I quickly realize that I’m completely comfortable in front of the camera.
Without ever having done anything like this before.
Once she starts shooting, the feeling of nakedness completely falls away, and now with a task at hand, I become hyper-focused. I think it also helps that my glasses are off. When you’re used to having the weight of frames and lenses on your face, and you suddenly take them off for an extended period of time, you experience a feeling of liberation. And although you can’t really see the world clearly (I have horrible vision – partly due to genetics, partly due to me reading at night, under my pillow with a flashlight, for years when I was young), you also don’t see the world through a grimy lens. You basically remove one more filter between yourself and the world, and it feels fantastic.
For those of you who have never done a photo shoot before, I'll tell you a little about the logistics of mine:
Carol first helps me find the pose she wants. She strikes a pose herself, then tells me to imitate her. Mimic my body, but not my facial expression. Then she'll give me more detailed instuctions. Chin down. Look this way a little. Open up your body. Lean this way. Put weight on your right leg, and turn the foot out. Hand on hips, elbow out. Bring your right arm up, grab the back of your neck, and hang your elbow down. Give me a smile. Do this one more on the serious side. Open your legs a little and put your left foot out a bit, I don’t want it to look too flat. Look right into the camera. And so on.
As soon as I assume the pose so that it looks natural – and this is important, because if it doesn't look natural she refuses to shoot it at all – she starts shooting right away, 3 to 4 photos in quick succession, so that I barely have time to prepare or readjust. I quickly guess that she does this to make sure everything looks spontaneous. After these 3 or 4 clicks of the camera, she glances at the camera to check if the shots came out well.
If the shots came out well, she moves on to the next pose. If not, she’ll try a few more, and maybe tell me to give her a little more smile (I think during the shoot my default was to be serious, though people sometimes tell me in real life that I’m always smiling). Every once in a while, she readjusts the lighting by moving around the poles and stands with big circular things attached to them.
On a few occasions, I try to put some extra feeling into the shot, and I think about some of my darker moments. At least on one of these occasions, there is a direct correlation between my trying to do this and her stepping closer in and focusing hard on my face. Always when she steps closer and aims right at my face, she'll tell me, now look right into the camera.
When we finish with the first outfit, she tells me to go and put on the blue sweater and my leather jacket. While I go do so, she asks, “So are you a student somewhere nearby?”
While I put on the sweater and my jacket, I explain to her that I am a college dropout. When I step out, I see on her face the slightest trace of a grin – the first sign of amusement, or any real emotion, really, during the entire shoot. It's the first time she loosens up and drops the professionalism a little (and just a little). “So you’re a college dropout?” she echoes.
I tell her a bit about my situation, about the book I’m writing, and about my interest in solving the problem of helping people defeat depression. And from then on, we talk almost nonstop throughout the rest of the shoot.
At a certain point during the discussion, I realize I'm still wearing the brown khakis, and that maybe it would be nice to switch it up with some jeans. When I ask her, she says, “Oh yeah,” as if it were obvious and she couldn’t believe she’d forget.
I bring my jeans out, then immediately continue the conversation, because that’s how I am when I become engaged in conversation – I’m pretty excitable and like to get into things. That’s when I realize I still haven't changed my pants.
“Do you mind…” I start, but she cuts me off. “I’m so used to seeing naked people, it’s not a problem at all, just change right there.” So I quickly undo the clasp of my belt, slip off my khakis, slip on my jeans, redo my belt, and all the meanwhile continue the conversation. We speak of our views on depression, on depression in different cultures, on coping mechanisms that people use to handle depression, and on life in general too. Carol leans herself elegantly on the top edge of the back of a small leather chair while we speak, and I stand.
Pretty soon we realize we have to start the second shoot, so she directs me, in my jeans and leather jacket, to a different white screen with a different colored rug. We go through the same process, except with a few new poses, now that I have the option of zipped, un-zipped, half-zipped, holding the zipper, unzipped and holding one flap of the jacket to the side with my hand on my hip, etc.
Throughout this second shoot, we continue to talk about depression, about other random things, about society, and about life. We agree that certain aspects of modern society are pretty fucked up, to use mutual words.
The second shoot seems to fly by, and being more comfortable and accustomed to the process, I hardly notice it. Sometimes I even laugh or smile while talking, and it ruins a picture or two for the shoot. No big deal. We shoot a few more.
Finally, we finish the shoot. I can't believe how easy it'd felt. With each pose, I knew instinctively whether or not it worked – it would either just feel right, or not. And I could tell when to go for serious, when to go for raw and intense, when to go for a lighter mood, and so on. I really felt I’d done a good job for a complete novice.
Of course, it could have all been in my head. That’s the thing about perception: it’s one sided, and not always well attuned with reality.
But then she says, “Well, I know we were only doing 2 outfits, but if you want to go put something else on, we can shoot another.”
“Of course, I’d love to!”
So I switch out my Sambas for my running shoes and put on a different yellow t-shirt and layer on top of that a black corduroy jacket (from the mall) that she says “looks a little creepy” but will help give me somewhat of a more corporate look for clients to see. We do the third shoot in front of a different white screen, and this time there is a leather sofa that I pose on and around. It is a little strange having to stop every once in a while to conceal the tags (sometimes they swing down into view), but overall it's much the same as the first two shoots. Later she says she’ll Photoshop out the “Express” label on the left sleeve of the jacket for me, since I'm returning it and can't cut it off.
Finally, it really is time to go, and she's all business again. I thank her profusely, gather my belongings, and let her walk me to the door.
“Well, I really liked everything you did today.” She gives me her card and adds, “If they don’t get back to you within a week and a half, let me know.” When I wish her, “Have a good day, and best of luck for the future,” she gives me that slight trace of a grin again, as if niceties and well-wishing are for the young and idealistic. But with that, I walk down the stairs (having already taken the elevator, I want to see what the interior of the building is like a little more) and out of the building.
***
What did I learn from this whole experience?
You never can say for sure what's going to happen. So make a few moves and keep at it. You just might surprise yourself.
Do I know if any clients are actually going to want me to model for them? Of course not. What I do know is that I did my part to pursue this lead, and I learned a lot - and a lot about myself - from the process.
I'm going to reiterate:
In the face of uncertainty, be persistent and believe in yourself.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
On Test Driving a New Profession – My introduction to the world of modeling (Part I)
Driving my car on I-90 E towards South Boston, it occurrs to me that while it’s just a normal average day for many people – Black Friday, the morning after Thanksgiving – it’s not at all a normal average day for me.
Today is the day of my first ever photo shoot as a model.
Now, modeling’s never really been too spectacularly high on my list of interests, so perhaps I should backtrack a bit and explain how I got myself into it.
***
About a week ago, I got cut off from an important source of free food. I suppose it really wasn’t supposed to be free in the first place, but that’s one of those pesky little things they call a technicality. The important thing is, I got cut off, and as a result I found myself thrown into that state of productive anxiety that I love so much.
That night, I went to bed thinking, shit, how am I gonna pay for food now?
Here’s the brilliant thing about sleep. If you meditate on a problem right before you go to bed, often you’ll manage to come up with a solution with your eyes closed, and you’ll wake up with this epiphany solution knocking on your brain, letting you know it’s there.
All this in addition to the solidification of the day’s memories, the reparation and rebuilding of muscle fibers and tissue if you worked out that day, the restoration of energy, the release of important hormones such as growth hormone, and more.
Why so many people cheat themselves out of this miracle activity is beyond me. It’s bloody brilliant, and you don’t even have to do anything but get in bed! (barring some sort of sleep disorder…correcting those are horribly difficult, but that’s another story for another time…)
Anyway, I woke up the next morning with an interesting memory. I remembered that I’d once been approached in a mall to pose for some photos that would eventually be used to create one of those picture-perfect-family photo-inserts. You know, the kind that they put in there when they sell you a picture frame to show you just how good that picture frame will make you and your relatives look.
Well, I immediately thought, maybe I can be a model. I’m definitely tall for an Asian, and there’s got to be a market demand for tall Asians.
Now here’s the thing about ridiculous ideas. Everybody gets them. Most people dismiss them immediately, and perhaps wisely so. What I like to do, however, is to give them a chance. In my head I think,
This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever come across. Hmmm. Maybe I can make it work.
I’m always skeptical when people say things are impossible before they even try it out. Sometimes I even get angry. It’s stupider to be an ignorant defeatist than any stupid idea ever could be.
So true to myself, that morning I did some research into the Boston modeling scene. I punched into the Google search box “Boston modeling” and found that there were pretty much 3 legit modeling agencies in Boston – Dynasty Models, Tonn Model Management, and Model Club, Inc. (sorry if I’ve offended a possible 4th, 5th, or nth legit modeling agency, I didn’t really do extensive research)
By chance, Model Club, Inc. was having an open call that very morning at their Boston office, at 10:30 AM. I detest waiting. So I scribbled down their address.
To make a longer story shorter, my initial hunch was right. I drove to Boston, managed to find street parking (cheap), and walked into Model Club, Inc. Julie, manager of the “New Faces Division,” gave me her card and told me to call her that afternoon after I sent them some photos by email, since I didn’t have any sort of portfolio. Apparently there was a definite void in the Boston area that I would be a “perfect fit for.” Before I left, she even interrupted a meeting of important people because she thought they should meet with me, but apparently it really was an important meeting. (another thing I’m skeptical about is the importance of most meetings)
So I drove back feeling pretty good about this new lead. I got my friend Steve to take some photos of me, emailed them to Julie, and called back later in the day. She told me the people liked the photos, and that she’d email me back the next day with a price quote for an initial shoot.
Well the next day came and went, and I didn’t get any email.
I really do detest waiting, and I detest even more when people don’t keep agreements, especially professional ones. In my mind I ran through a few mental loops. Oh, they just said they like you because they say that to everyone. They were just hedging their bets. Are you kidding yourself? You? A model? What a dumb idea.
Remember how I like to give dumb ideas a chance? Well, I like to give them second chances too.
A few days later, after still not receiving an email from Julie (and after emailing her a reminder), I went back online and discovered that Dynasty Models was having an open call one afternoon.
Again, I drove over, managed to find free street parking with the help of some Berklee College of Music students, and walked into Dynasty Models and Talent, Inc. The line of models at the open call – there were actors too – started on the second floor where their office was and extended down the winding staircase and onto the first floor. There were some very attractive people standing in that line. Some of them looked professional and were carrying laminated portfolios. All of them were better dressed than myself. I admit, I was a little intimidated.
Eventually we were all ushered into a room with several rows of folding chairs in front of a big executive desk. A very well dressed man introduced himself as Joe, owner/manager of Dynasty Models. He told us about his background, about how competitive the modeling industry was, and how sweet Dynasty Models was. He told us the secret formula for success as a model (40% is being consistently photogenic, 60% is hard work). Then he told us about the fun part.
We were all going to give an impromptu sales call – sell yourself. Why would you make for a good model? Why should they choose you for a callback? Name, age, height, go!
Fortunately, I didn’t have to go first. A bunch of beautiful people got up in front of the room and started selling themselves in turn. I was immediately surprised to find out that some of these tall leggy women who looked and dressed like professional models were only fifteen years old!
After each person spoke, Joe gave feedback about what he heard that was good. I could tell he was careful not to criticize in the slightest, so as to maintain the relaxed atmosphere and maintain his own reputation. He really was the consummate salesman himself.
People who go later really have an unfair advantage. After I’d already formulated in my head a cloudy version of what I was going to say, I would hear his critiques and adjust and add to my sales pitch. At a certain point, I decided it was impossible – and probably not effective – to actually memorize a statement, so I decided I was just going to make sure I knew what the first sentence was going to be, then let my wits work for me and freestyle the rest.
I’m not at all a fan of public speaking – I’m definitely a doer, not a talker. But necessity can force out some pretty unexpectedly spectacular things.
Like a cold wooden instrument before it is warmed up by its musician, my voice at first was shaky and unsettled, and my confidence low. But at a certain point I hit my stride. I made fun of myself for looking like a science nerd with my glasses on (self-deprecation can be great in limited doses). I bullshat about how dropping out of school meant I was unwilling to confine myself, and willing to push boundaries (I really meant it, but it must have sounded like bullshit). I said every positive thing I truthfully could say about myself.
And it worked.
The people in the room loved it. One model gave me a double-thumbs-up and started doing a little hip-hop dance in her chair. A guy behind me (he must have been a parent) later told me that I should patent the words that came out of my mouth. I was shocked and pleasantly surprised. Before we all left, when Joe went through all of our faces to try to remember our names, he knew me right away, and even remembered where I was from. Dave from Jersey.
I knew I’d made an impression, and a good one too. Now it was just a matter of waiting over the weekend until Monday, when he’d contact those of us who were getting callbacks. How could I not get one?
I didn’t get one.
But I did get an email from Julie from Model Club, Inc with Ms. Carol Evans’ number (the photographer), and a list of things to bring for my first photo shoot.
Are you starting to notice a pattern?
You can’t know what’s going to happen. You can’t predict which leads turn out to be solid and which ones fall through. So just keep at it.
***
Note: To read about how the photo shoot went, read the continuation post!
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
On Motivation Part I - Waltham Common
Sometimes I find it difficult to motivate myself to do the things I need to do.
For me, this isn’t really the case when it comes to the pesky little tasks many people seem to enjoy putting off. If I see that the trash is full, I immediately take it out and replace the bag. If my laundry’s done drying, I fold it on the spot, rather than leave it for later after everything gets crumpled and wrinkles set in. These little responsibilities – the minutiae of life - I’ve already made habit of, and I’ve learned to take pleasure in taking care of small business in a swift manner. A chore like vacuuming can even help me relieve stress.
Being human, though, and thus (very) flawed, I sometimes encounter inner resistance when it comes to the big things.
To illustrate, here’s a list of things I should be doing that right now are probably more urgent than writing this blog entry:
1 Work on my StartingBloc Fellowship application (due 11/30)
2 Work on an idea for my application to The Unreasonable Institute
3 Work on my book
4 Aggressively market this blog. Unfortunately for us non-salesy types, King Content is powerless if He has no subjects. (ie if you never lay eyes on this)
Writing itself is difficult enough, but if I were being honest with myself, I probably could have finished this entry by now if I’d been under a time crunch. Which means I should have been able to finish it by now anyway.
When I find myself in a lazy rut that I can’t immediately get out of, I often head for the gym or go for a run – a cheap way to assuage my guilt over putting off the big things. I mean, who can knock health-consciousness? Answer: Not even your own conscience can knock health-consciousness.
Usually when I opt for the run, I prefer a sprint workout over longer jogs for the brevity and high-intensity they offer. I hadn’t been on a long-distance run in quite some time, until a few mornings ago I put on my running kicks and headed towards Waltham Common, a decent distance from the Brandeis campus, maybe 2 miles or so.
The moment I arrived at the Common, I remembered why I revere this place – why earlier this fall I ran there every morning before 7AM. If you’ve never been there, I’ll give a brief description so you can picture the scene a bit.
Waltham Common is basically a park, filled with trees, a few memorials and statues, several benches, a bandstand, and what looks like a little lovers’ enclave in one corner. Enclosing it on its four sides are Main St (the main commercial street in Waltham), Moody St, Elm St, and Carter St. During the summers, free concerts are supposedly held there each week by a different musical act. (I say supposedly because I’m a recent transplant to the area and haven’t been to any)
In the center of the park there are two concentric circles of red brick tiles in the ground. Etched into the bricks are soldiers’ names, and dates. Nearby, a sign reads,
Inside the inner circle there stands a ring of six flagpoles, arranged in a hexagon. Flags fly for the Coast Guard, the Air Force, the Marine Corps, the Navy, MIA/POWs, and for the Army. Final color tally: two white, two blue, one black, one red.
In the center of this solemn ring of flagpoles stands one final flagpole – for the flag of The United States of America.
Five paths radiate outward from this center circle, like rays of the sun. Whenever I finish my run (I always end with a brief kick), I cross Moody St, take the path closest to me of the five, and approach the center circle. Even though passerbys – runners, strollers, running moms with strollers – often cross through the center of the circle, I’ve always felt an enormous reluctance to do so, as if I would be intruding on a sacred space. So I stop, just outside the outer circle, and begin my stretching routine, culled from my days playing ultimate on my high school team.
I know this routine by heart. I’ve done it so many times, both with the team and by myself, that I don’t even have to think about it. It’s just ingrained into my muscle memory. So this post-run stretch is really one of the best times for me to meditate –with the endorphins flooding my body, itself warm and loose.
As I sat stretching on the ground that day, warm butt upon the cool ground beneath me, it hit me strong – why I do the things I do, why I am the way I am. Why I motivate myself every day to be better than the day before.
Take a look around you right now. It doesn’t matter where you are. Just do it.
Take a look at the computer screen in front of your face (I assume you are reading this on a computer). The table or surface that supports the computer. The clothes on your body that you’ve become so accustomed to, you hardly notice they’re there. The walls of the room that shelter you. The very floor that supports your weight.
All of these things came with a price.
Yes, you (or someone else) may have paid for them with your hard-earned money. But the price was far greater than that.
Think of the countless before you who struggled on the behalf of mankind – on your behalf.
Think of the scientists and engineers who put in sweat and hours to envision and create the technology for you to read this blog. Think of the leaders of the world – and equally importantly, the citizens of the world – who fought to establish and maintain the peace you have right now to sit and read in leisure.
Think of the fallen soldiers and the defiant rebels who built this country for you, and who continue to protect and defend your basic liberties. When you hear sirens wail, think of the unnamed heroes who provide the essential services for your community – firefighters, police, EMTs. These people are heroes every single day, not just on the anniversary of 9/11.
I’m not advocating that you walk around every day making everyday decisions with historical events in mind. Nor should you feel guilty about or regret your abundance. Guilt and regret are largely useless, and to a certain extent even selfish.
Unless you use them to fuel positive change.
The other day in my car, the song “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2 came on the radio. If you’ve never heard this song and have some free time, check it out. There’s a great live version on YouTube – just type in “Sunday Bloody Sunday (Rattle and Hum)."
The song describes “the horror felt by an observer of The Troubles in Northern Ireland, mainly focusing on the Bloody Sunday incident in Derry where British troops shot and killed civil rights marchers.” (thanks Wikipedia) Bono’s voice lends the lyrics some powerful emotion.
The fact is, every day is a Sunday Bloody Sunday.
The fierce urgency of now that Martin Luther King, Jr. described in his “I Have a Dream” speech is just as relevant in today’s now as it ever was, and it always will be this way, at least during our lifetimes.
That morning at Waltham Common, those flags served me a powerful reminder that what I have is precious and sacred. I remembered that so much of what I have is due to the striving and sacrifice of others, and that I have the potential and even the responsibility to do the same for future generations.
And so now, whenever I need a shot of motivation, I just picture Waltham Common on a beautiful fall day.
Or, if I’m free, I slip on my Nikes.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
For me, this isn’t really the case when it comes to the pesky little tasks many people seem to enjoy putting off. If I see that the trash is full, I immediately take it out and replace the bag. If my laundry’s done drying, I fold it on the spot, rather than leave it for later after everything gets crumpled and wrinkles set in. These little responsibilities – the minutiae of life - I’ve already made habit of, and I’ve learned to take pleasure in taking care of small business in a swift manner. A chore like vacuuming can even help me relieve stress.
Being human, though, and thus (very) flawed, I sometimes encounter inner resistance when it comes to the big things.
To illustrate, here’s a list of things I should be doing that right now are probably more urgent than writing this blog entry:
1 Work on my StartingBloc Fellowship application (due 11/30)
2 Work on an idea for my application to The Unreasonable Institute
3 Work on my book
4 Aggressively market this blog. Unfortunately for us non-salesy types, King Content is powerless if He has no subjects. (ie if you never lay eyes on this)
Writing itself is difficult enough, but if I were being honest with myself, I probably could have finished this entry by now if I’d been under a time crunch. Which means I should have been able to finish it by now anyway.
When I find myself in a lazy rut that I can’t immediately get out of, I often head for the gym or go for a run – a cheap way to assuage my guilt over putting off the big things. I mean, who can knock health-consciousness? Answer: Not even your own conscience can knock health-consciousness.
Usually when I opt for the run, I prefer a sprint workout over longer jogs for the brevity and high-intensity they offer. I hadn’t been on a long-distance run in quite some time, until a few mornings ago I put on my running kicks and headed towards Waltham Common, a decent distance from the Brandeis campus, maybe 2 miles or so.
The moment I arrived at the Common, I remembered why I revere this place – why earlier this fall I ran there every morning before 7AM. If you’ve never been there, I’ll give a brief description so you can picture the scene a bit.
Waltham Common is basically a park, filled with trees, a few memorials and statues, several benches, a bandstand, and what looks like a little lovers’ enclave in one corner. Enclosing it on its four sides are Main St (the main commercial street in Waltham), Moody St, Elm St, and Carter St. During the summers, free concerts are supposedly held there each week by a different musical act. (I say supposedly because I’m a recent transplant to the area and haven’t been to any)
In the center of the park there are two concentric circles of red brick tiles in the ground. Etched into the bricks are soldiers’ names, and dates. Nearby, a sign reads,
Circle of Remembrance
A place for remembering those who sacrificed to keep you free.
Please respect it.
Inside the inner circle there stands a ring of six flagpoles, arranged in a hexagon. Flags fly for the Coast Guard, the Air Force, the Marine Corps, the Navy, MIA/POWs, and for the Army. Final color tally: two white, two blue, one black, one red.
In the center of this solemn ring of flagpoles stands one final flagpole – for the flag of The United States of America.
Five paths radiate outward from this center circle, like rays of the sun. Whenever I finish my run (I always end with a brief kick), I cross Moody St, take the path closest to me of the five, and approach the center circle. Even though passerbys – runners, strollers, running moms with strollers – often cross through the center of the circle, I’ve always felt an enormous reluctance to do so, as if I would be intruding on a sacred space. So I stop, just outside the outer circle, and begin my stretching routine, culled from my days playing ultimate on my high school team.
I know this routine by heart. I’ve done it so many times, both with the team and by myself, that I don’t even have to think about it. It’s just ingrained into my muscle memory. So this post-run stretch is really one of the best times for me to meditate –with the endorphins flooding my body, itself warm and loose.
As I sat stretching on the ground that day, warm butt upon the cool ground beneath me, it hit me strong – why I do the things I do, why I am the way I am. Why I motivate myself every day to be better than the day before.
Take a look around you right now. It doesn’t matter where you are. Just do it.
Take a look at the computer screen in front of your face (I assume you are reading this on a computer). The table or surface that supports the computer. The clothes on your body that you’ve become so accustomed to, you hardly notice they’re there. The walls of the room that shelter you. The very floor that supports your weight.
All of these things came with a price.
Yes, you (or someone else) may have paid for them with your hard-earned money. But the price was far greater than that.
Think of the countless before you who struggled on the behalf of mankind – on your behalf.
Think of the scientists and engineers who put in sweat and hours to envision and create the technology for you to read this blog. Think of the leaders of the world – and equally importantly, the citizens of the world – who fought to establish and maintain the peace you have right now to sit and read in leisure.
Think of the fallen soldiers and the defiant rebels who built this country for you, and who continue to protect and defend your basic liberties. When you hear sirens wail, think of the unnamed heroes who provide the essential services for your community – firefighters, police, EMTs. These people are heroes every single day, not just on the anniversary of 9/11.
I’m not advocating that you walk around every day making everyday decisions with historical events in mind. Nor should you feel guilty about or regret your abundance. Guilt and regret are largely useless, and to a certain extent even selfish.
Unless you use them to fuel positive change.
The other day in my car, the song “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2 came on the radio. If you’ve never heard this song and have some free time, check it out. There’s a great live version on YouTube – just type in “Sunday Bloody Sunday (Rattle and Hum)."
The song describes “the horror felt by an observer of The Troubles in Northern Ireland, mainly focusing on the Bloody Sunday incident in Derry where British troops shot and killed civil rights marchers.” (thanks Wikipedia) Bono’s voice lends the lyrics some powerful emotion.
The fact is, every day is a Sunday Bloody Sunday.
The fierce urgency of now that Martin Luther King, Jr. described in his “I Have a Dream” speech is just as relevant in today’s now as it ever was, and it always will be this way, at least during our lifetimes.
That morning at Waltham Common, those flags served me a powerful reminder that what I have is precious and sacred. I remembered that so much of what I have is due to the striving and sacrifice of others, and that I have the potential and even the responsibility to do the same for future generations.
And so now, whenever I need a shot of motivation, I just picture Waltham Common on a beautiful fall day.
Or, if I’m free, I slip on my Nikes.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
In Defense of Individuality
A huge part of depression, it seems, is the feeling that you just don’t fit in, and that nobody understands you. The feeling that you’re alone.
This feeling of singularity can be a major factor in precipitating depression in the first place, and it can also intensify as a direct result of depression, aggravating and perpetuating itself in a cycle of pain.
Let’s face it. We can’t fight evolution. As human beings, we are genetically wired to be social creatures, and we all desire a sense of belonging. This feeling of belonging is a most potent antidote and even prevention to all sorts of illnesses – depression included – and it is a worthy goal to aspire to, and to spend time cultivating.
If you are depressed, I believe it is absolutely essential to maintain close relationships with friends, despite any inclination to withdraw into your own pain. Do whatever you can to stay around positive and happy people, even if you suck the energy right out of the room. This may require you to be selfish, but any friend worth having will tolerate you.
For these reasons, fitting in and participating in a community are essential.
That being said, I assert that being unorthodox is in itself nothing to be feared. In fact, I strongly believe that it should be encouraged. What better way to cultivate a sense of self-worth – crucial to fighting and preventing depression – than to explore and push your own boundaries, and to know that there is no one in this universe who can be the person you are – who can do what you do, see the way you see, think the way you think, and act the way you act.
Think about that.
It’s not a matter of being egocentric. No person is so irreplaceable that the world would fall apart without him or her, not even President Barack Obama. But you are a purely unique individual – the only of your kind that will ever exist throughout all of time.
And that is a beautiful thing.
I don’t care what job you work, or what labels you (or other people) associate with yourself. You could be a garbage disposal worker, the United States Secretary of Energy, or a murderer sitting on death row. You are the only you.
Within each of us lies the seed of genius. Why not grow it to its fullest expression?
Why play it safe and conform when as far as we know, we’ve only got one shot at life? (It’d be pretty dumb to bank on anything else)
Why not express yourself?
Express yourself…
Express yourself…
Come on and do it…
-N.W.A.
If you run more with the Transcendentalist crowd, try Emerson:
"THE OTHER DAY, I read some original statements written by a famous painter. Whenever I read something truly original, I get a feeling. That feeling is far more valuable than the statements themselves. The feeling fills me with a recognition of a profound truth: That genius is simply to believe your own thought. To believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all."
Now I’m not saying you should go psycho and neglect the basic rules of society (Thou shalt not kill, those kinds of rules). And as I’ve already mentioned, it’s important to cultivate a feeling of belonging, if at least for reasons of health. I also very much agree with whoever said that the only way you can accurately assess yourself is through the mirror of your relationships with others.
Furthermore, it is important to avoid trying to be different just to be different. This is quite as harmful as conforming, if not more so. Check out Bruce Lee’s words on the matter:
"Do not deny the classical approach, simply as a reaction, or you will have created another pattern and trapped yourself there."
So how do you go about developing your own genius?
To be honest, it starts with imitation. Just think of how a child learns. There's a reason they love to play the "copycat" game. It’s annoying as hell for you, but incredibly educational for them, because through imitation they implant the ideas in their mind for drawing upon later.
So listen. Read. Experience new things. Think about those things, using what you’ve heard and read. Draw your own conclusions too. REPEAT.
Whenever you do anything, bring all of your past experiences and reflections on those experiences (however seemingly irrelevant) into that new thing, and strive to grow as much as possible. You want the neural connections in your brain to be sprouting all over the place. Let there be neurons firing from all corners of your brain whenever you tackle any challenge. Let there be some serious crosstown traffic (Jimi, anyone?). There’s a reason the experts find all these links between art and music, and music and math, and so forth.
So to recap:
Read, read, read.
Think, think, think.
Act, act, act.
Reflect, reflect, reflect.
Grow, grow, grow.
REPEAT.
Express yourself.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
This feeling of singularity can be a major factor in precipitating depression in the first place, and it can also intensify as a direct result of depression, aggravating and perpetuating itself in a cycle of pain.
Let’s face it. We can’t fight evolution. As human beings, we are genetically wired to be social creatures, and we all desire a sense of belonging. This feeling of belonging is a most potent antidote and even prevention to all sorts of illnesses – depression included – and it is a worthy goal to aspire to, and to spend time cultivating.
If you are depressed, I believe it is absolutely essential to maintain close relationships with friends, despite any inclination to withdraw into your own pain. Do whatever you can to stay around positive and happy people, even if you suck the energy right out of the room. This may require you to be selfish, but any friend worth having will tolerate you.
For these reasons, fitting in and participating in a community are essential.
That being said, I assert that being unorthodox is in itself nothing to be feared. In fact, I strongly believe that it should be encouraged. What better way to cultivate a sense of self-worth – crucial to fighting and preventing depression – than to explore and push your own boundaries, and to know that there is no one in this universe who can be the person you are – who can do what you do, see the way you see, think the way you think, and act the way you act.
Think about that.
It’s not a matter of being egocentric. No person is so irreplaceable that the world would fall apart without him or her, not even President Barack Obama. But you are a purely unique individual – the only of your kind that will ever exist throughout all of time.
And that is a beautiful thing.
I don’t care what job you work, or what labels you (or other people) associate with yourself. You could be a garbage disposal worker, the United States Secretary of Energy, or a murderer sitting on death row. You are the only you.
Within each of us lies the seed of genius. Why not grow it to its fullest expression?
Why play it safe and conform when as far as we know, we’ve only got one shot at life? (It’d be pretty dumb to bank on anything else)
Why not express yourself?
Express yourself…
Express yourself…
Come on and do it…
-N.W.A.
If you run more with the Transcendentalist crowd, try Emerson:
"THE OTHER DAY, I read some original statements written by a famous painter. Whenever I read something truly original, I get a feeling. That feeling is far more valuable than the statements themselves. The feeling fills me with a recognition of a profound truth: That genius is simply to believe your own thought. To believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all."
Now I’m not saying you should go psycho and neglect the basic rules of society (Thou shalt not kill, those kinds of rules). And as I’ve already mentioned, it’s important to cultivate a feeling of belonging, if at least for reasons of health. I also very much agree with whoever said that the only way you can accurately assess yourself is through the mirror of your relationships with others.
Furthermore, it is important to avoid trying to be different just to be different. This is quite as harmful as conforming, if not more so. Check out Bruce Lee’s words on the matter:
"Do not deny the classical approach, simply as a reaction, or you will have created another pattern and trapped yourself there."
So how do you go about developing your own genius?
To be honest, it starts with imitation. Just think of how a child learns. There's a reason they love to play the "copycat" game. It’s annoying as hell for you, but incredibly educational for them, because through imitation they implant the ideas in their mind for drawing upon later.
So listen. Read. Experience new things. Think about those things, using what you’ve heard and read. Draw your own conclusions too. REPEAT.
Whenever you do anything, bring all of your past experiences and reflections on those experiences (however seemingly irrelevant) into that new thing, and strive to grow as much as possible. You want the neural connections in your brain to be sprouting all over the place. Let there be neurons firing from all corners of your brain whenever you tackle any challenge. Let there be some serious crosstown traffic (Jimi, anyone?). There’s a reason the experts find all these links between art and music, and music and math, and so forth.
So to recap:
Read, read, read.
Think, think, think.
Act, act, act.
Reflect, reflect, reflect.
Grow, grow, grow.
REPEAT.
Express yourself.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
On Motivation - Intro
If you’ve ever experienced depression, you realize pretty quickly that finding motivation becomes a primary challenge in everything you do.
First, there are the physical hurdles: loss of energy, lethargy, problems sleeping (for example, sleeping excessively and the inability to rise from bed), feeling fatigued or weak, problems with sexual function, all of the bodily aches (and headaches), and just in general a feeling of malaise that inhibits motivation.
Many of us also experience the psychological hurdles. We get a sense of futility and hopelessness and think, “Why does that matter? Why does anything matter?”
We see how bleary reality is, and wonder why the rest of the world doesn’t understand that they spend the overwhelming majority of each day thinking and talking about absolute horseshit.
OMG guys, did you hear about Miley’s nip slip?
Even when we’re with friends and the topic of discussion proves to be more substantial than celebrity gossip, conversations often wind up becoming contests of wit, with each contestant aiming more to impress and overpower than to articulate and learn. And while this can sometimes be enormously fun, especially if things get a little bawdy, the depressed person sees through this veneer of braggadocio with all the superhuman ability of, well…Superman.
The point is, nothing seems worthwhile, and motivation goes vamoose.
So with this in mind, I’ve decided to start an ongoing series of posts on Motivation, of which this is the introductory post. Check back in soon for more!
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
First, there are the physical hurdles: loss of energy, lethargy, problems sleeping (for example, sleeping excessively and the inability to rise from bed), feeling fatigued or weak, problems with sexual function, all of the bodily aches (and headaches), and just in general a feeling of malaise that inhibits motivation.
Many of us also experience the psychological hurdles. We get a sense of futility and hopelessness and think, “Why does that matter? Why does anything matter?”
We see how bleary reality is, and wonder why the rest of the world doesn’t understand that they spend the overwhelming majority of each day thinking and talking about absolute horseshit.
OMG guys, did you hear about Miley’s nip slip?
Even when we’re with friends and the topic of discussion proves to be more substantial than celebrity gossip, conversations often wind up becoming contests of wit, with each contestant aiming more to impress and overpower than to articulate and learn. And while this can sometimes be enormously fun, especially if things get a little bawdy, the depressed person sees through this veneer of braggadocio with all the superhuman ability of, well…Superman.
The point is, nothing seems worthwhile, and motivation goes vamoose.
So with this in mind, I’ve decided to start an ongoing series of posts on Motivation, of which this is the introductory post. Check back in soon for more!
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Sunday, November 22, 2009
On Change - Making the best of it
Dropping out of school changes everything.
Yes, there are the superficial changes. You have more time. And fewer problem sets. You stop whining about the mediocrity of dining hall food. And start appreciating anything warm that’ll fill your stomach for a few hours.
More fundamentally, though, you lose your place in society. And you become aware of that reality really fast.
This sense of lost entitlement doesn’t bother to blend in with the fall foliage or conceal itself in any other way. It manifests itself throughout your life, in places crowded and sparse, in moments public and private, in situations ranging from the blandly mundane to the exhaustingly dramatic. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be a newly minted outsider, but suddenly even everyday exchanges – paying for groceries at the register, filling the gas tank – feel different.
At least for me, the passing of time only intensifies this feeling of misfit. I have yet to be able to desensitize myself to it, partly because new situations keep arising that keep this reality on my radar.
And frankly, this may well be for the best.
For one thing, it can be incredibly liberating. It really opens up your world to escape the confining label of “college student.” One day shortly after I withdrew from school, I took a New Jersey Transit train towards NY Penn Station. I remember very clearly the moment – and I know it’s disgustingly cliché to talk about this kind of eureka-moment, but it’s the truth – I remember the moment I looked out the train window and realized that from that point on I would be fully responsible for everything that “happened” to me. Without the prospect of a protective piece of paper with a school’s insignia inked on next to my name, my future would rely heavily on my own agency (of course I’d never be arrogant enough to forget to acknowledge Chance).
When that realization hit me, I really felt my way of thinking change. Unburdened from trying to be perfect for the sake of grades and transcripts, I found myself able to engage in the kind of creative free-form thinking that I’ve always loved, but somehow forgot about in the rush of college. Unsheltered from the security of being affiliated with an institution of higher learning, I found myself humble to the utmost degree. With my new beginner’s mindset, suddenly anything and everything became my teacher – even something as simple as the falling of a leaf, or the motion of a train. I felt I had reclaimed some sort of primal freedom.
Most people would say that this kind of freedom doesn’t pay the bills. I think they severely miss the point. Being able to disengage from the grind of life does not mean you aren’t able to buckle down and work hard when you need to. I certainly have not lost the ability to discipline myself – whether in an intellectual endeavor, in manual or clerical labor, or in any other type of undertaking. But I have gained the ability – or perhaps just lost the inhibition – to tap into my own creative genius.
The pressure of necessity does not have to stifle your creativity. In fact it can be a great motivator. It keeps your mind sharp and alert to any opportunity that might appear along the way – as long as you’re willing to take chances and embrace the ideas and inspiration that come to you under duress.
A piece of advice that I consistently get from all sorts of people in all forms of expression is that I should “Think about the big picture,” or “Think practically” – variations on the theme of “Let’s be real now.” The implication is that I’m too unsettled, too unfocused, and too naïve about surviving in this harsh world we live in. That at some point, I’ll need to settle down, have a family, and have a career so I can provide for kids and pay for cars and houses. The implication is that my lifestyle is unsustainable. That I’m not being wise, and I’ll soon pay for it. That I’m an unreasonable fool.
On the contrary, I believe that I am looking at the big picture most of all. From my vantage point, it seems most people confine their picture to a snapshot of the societal standard – let’s get that house in the suburbs, put our kids in the right schools, have them hang out with the right kids, and let the well-oiled institutions that are already in place work their magic to sort everything out. Let’s ride out the status quo, right?
If you really think hard though, this is about as narrow-minded a view as you can take. With your laser focus, you’ve cut out from your life the possibility for so much more! The fact is, in life you’re not so much trying to “find yourself,” or find your place in society, as you’re trying to create yourself. Be who you want to be! For the most part, the most suffocating limit is the limit you set for yourself with your own mind!
If the process of self-creation means that things change rapidly from one day to the next, go with it! Don’t listen when people call you a flip-flopper or accuse you of lacking commitment – these people lack imagination! They don’t realize the power of failing fast, failing often, and learning from those failures. They don’t realize that creative destruction doesn’t just apply to forest fires and evolution; it applies to you. They don’t realize that in the end, the journey is the reward.
I’d like to point out that I say all of this not from some lofty theoretical perch. I live by these values every day of my life. I know that whether or not I succeed by the conventional metric, in my heart and mind I’m already a smashing success because my journey has already been so rewarding – filled with the kinds of moments that no college degree or heap of money could purchase.
So don’t fear change. Embrace it, even if you contradict and make a hypocritical ass of yourself, or go through complete reversals of belief ten times in ten days! As long as you learn from change, you’re doing it right. I say this holds for people of all ages, but there’s no question in my mind that it’s especially true for the young (young of heart?).
A friend of mine once had a long-winded discussion with an astrophysics professor at Princeton University, at the end of which the professor offered the following gem of wisdom:
If you’re twenty years old and can’t do what you want to do, and try what you want to try, then what’s the point?
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Yes, there are the superficial changes. You have more time. And fewer problem sets. You stop whining about the mediocrity of dining hall food. And start appreciating anything warm that’ll fill your stomach for a few hours.
More fundamentally, though, you lose your place in society. And you become aware of that reality really fast.
This sense of lost entitlement doesn’t bother to blend in with the fall foliage or conceal itself in any other way. It manifests itself throughout your life, in places crowded and sparse, in moments public and private, in situations ranging from the blandly mundane to the exhaustingly dramatic. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to be a newly minted outsider, but suddenly even everyday exchanges – paying for groceries at the register, filling the gas tank – feel different.
At least for me, the passing of time only intensifies this feeling of misfit. I have yet to be able to desensitize myself to it, partly because new situations keep arising that keep this reality on my radar.
And frankly, this may well be for the best.
For one thing, it can be incredibly liberating. It really opens up your world to escape the confining label of “college student.” One day shortly after I withdrew from school, I took a New Jersey Transit train towards NY Penn Station. I remember very clearly the moment – and I know it’s disgustingly cliché to talk about this kind of eureka-moment, but it’s the truth – I remember the moment I looked out the train window and realized that from that point on I would be fully responsible for everything that “happened” to me. Without the prospect of a protective piece of paper with a school’s insignia inked on next to my name, my future would rely heavily on my own agency (of course I’d never be arrogant enough to forget to acknowledge Chance).
When that realization hit me, I really felt my way of thinking change. Unburdened from trying to be perfect for the sake of grades and transcripts, I found myself able to engage in the kind of creative free-form thinking that I’ve always loved, but somehow forgot about in the rush of college. Unsheltered from the security of being affiliated with an institution of higher learning, I found myself humble to the utmost degree. With my new beginner’s mindset, suddenly anything and everything became my teacher – even something as simple as the falling of a leaf, or the motion of a train. I felt I had reclaimed some sort of primal freedom.
Most people would say that this kind of freedom doesn’t pay the bills. I think they severely miss the point. Being able to disengage from the grind of life does not mean you aren’t able to buckle down and work hard when you need to. I certainly have not lost the ability to discipline myself – whether in an intellectual endeavor, in manual or clerical labor, or in any other type of undertaking. But I have gained the ability – or perhaps just lost the inhibition – to tap into my own creative genius.
The pressure of necessity does not have to stifle your creativity. In fact it can be a great motivator. It keeps your mind sharp and alert to any opportunity that might appear along the way – as long as you’re willing to take chances and embrace the ideas and inspiration that come to you under duress.
A piece of advice that I consistently get from all sorts of people in all forms of expression is that I should “Think about the big picture,” or “Think practically” – variations on the theme of “Let’s be real now.” The implication is that I’m too unsettled, too unfocused, and too naïve about surviving in this harsh world we live in. That at some point, I’ll need to settle down, have a family, and have a career so I can provide for kids and pay for cars and houses. The implication is that my lifestyle is unsustainable. That I’m not being wise, and I’ll soon pay for it. That I’m an unreasonable fool.
On the contrary, I believe that I am looking at the big picture most of all. From my vantage point, it seems most people confine their picture to a snapshot of the societal standard – let’s get that house in the suburbs, put our kids in the right schools, have them hang out with the right kids, and let the well-oiled institutions that are already in place work their magic to sort everything out. Let’s ride out the status quo, right?
If you really think hard though, this is about as narrow-minded a view as you can take. With your laser focus, you’ve cut out from your life the possibility for so much more! The fact is, in life you’re not so much trying to “find yourself,” or find your place in society, as you’re trying to create yourself. Be who you want to be! For the most part, the most suffocating limit is the limit you set for yourself with your own mind!
If the process of self-creation means that things change rapidly from one day to the next, go with it! Don’t listen when people call you a flip-flopper or accuse you of lacking commitment – these people lack imagination! They don’t realize the power of failing fast, failing often, and learning from those failures. They don’t realize that creative destruction doesn’t just apply to forest fires and evolution; it applies to you. They don’t realize that in the end, the journey is the reward.
I’d like to point out that I say all of this not from some lofty theoretical perch. I live by these values every day of my life. I know that whether or not I succeed by the conventional metric, in my heart and mind I’m already a smashing success because my journey has already been so rewarding – filled with the kinds of moments that no college degree or heap of money could purchase.
So don’t fear change. Embrace it, even if you contradict and make a hypocritical ass of yourself, or go through complete reversals of belief ten times in ten days! As long as you learn from change, you’re doing it right. I say this holds for people of all ages, but there’s no question in my mind that it’s especially true for the young (young of heart?).
A friend of mine once had a long-winded discussion with an astrophysics professor at Princeton University, at the end of which the professor offered the following gem of wisdom:
If you’re twenty years old and can’t do what you want to do, and try what you want to try, then what’s the point?
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
[nsn_quick_feedback]
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Saturday, November 21, 2009
On Suffering and Struggle
While perusing blogs for inspiration on what to do with mine (as you can see, so far it's pretty bare), I stumbled upon an entry on Ms. Therese J. Borchard's fantastic blog Beyond Blue titled "Why Does God Allow Suffering?"
Check it out: http://blog.beliefnet.com/beyondblue/2009/11/hope-god-and-suffering-the-usu.html
Her post triggered a memory of a quote I love by a man who has long been a hero for me, and a great source of inspiration: Abraham Lincoln, sufferer of severe depression himself.
Here's the quote, titled "Meditation on the Divine Will":
"The will of God prevails. In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil war it is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party; and yet the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are of the best adaptation to effect his purpose. I am almost ready to say that this is probably true; that God wills this contest, and wills that it shall not end yet. By his mere great power on the minds of the now contestants, he could have either saved or destroyed the Union without a human contest. Yet the contest began. And, having begun, he could give the final victory to either side any day. Yet the contest proceeds."
My understanding of this meditation is that Lincoln believed that the existence of the Civil War - "the contest" - was not simply an accident, a cataclysmic clash between men. It was willed by God.
I don't care whether or not you believe in God, or whether or not you understand the specifics of the Civil War (I certainly don't for the latter). Lincoln's words are universal - they cross the constraints of historical eras and geographical locations - they apply to all situations in all times.
Just think: Why is there still suffering today? Why do we fight for luxury, for advancement, for status, for "dignity" - for the finer things in life - when so much of the world struggles for the basic necessities of existence?
How could anyone who might hold the reins to the world allow this? I mean, it just doesn't seem conscionable.
Yet the contest proceeds.
It seems Lincoln would say that all of this suffering is for a reason. For it gives us reason to fight, reason to unite, and reason to push ourselves to the limits of our potential and beyond in order to struggle for what we believe in.
Struggle is the fire that forges greatness.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Check it out: http://blog.beliefnet.com/beyondblue/2009/11/hope-god-and-suffering-the-usu.html
Her post triggered a memory of a quote I love by a man who has long been a hero for me, and a great source of inspiration: Abraham Lincoln, sufferer of severe depression himself.
Here's the quote, titled "Meditation on the Divine Will":
"The will of God prevails. In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil war it is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party; and yet the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are of the best adaptation to effect his purpose. I am almost ready to say that this is probably true; that God wills this contest, and wills that it shall not end yet. By his mere great power on the minds of the now contestants, he could have either saved or destroyed the Union without a human contest. Yet the contest began. And, having begun, he could give the final victory to either side any day. Yet the contest proceeds."
My understanding of this meditation is that Lincoln believed that the existence of the Civil War - "the contest" - was not simply an accident, a cataclysmic clash between men. It was willed by God.
I don't care whether or not you believe in God, or whether or not you understand the specifics of the Civil War (I certainly don't for the latter). Lincoln's words are universal - they cross the constraints of historical eras and geographical locations - they apply to all situations in all times.
Just think: Why is there still suffering today? Why do we fight for luxury, for advancement, for status, for "dignity" - for the finer things in life - when so much of the world struggles for the basic necessities of existence?
How could anyone who might hold the reins to the world allow this? I mean, it just doesn't seem conscionable.
Yet the contest proceeds.
It seems Lincoln would say that all of this suffering is for a reason. For it gives us reason to fight, reason to unite, and reason to push ourselves to the limits of our potential and beyond in order to struggle for what we believe in.
Struggle is the fire that forges greatness.
-David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
Introductions - This shit is getting more and more like Good Will Hunting
Alright, I’m not a genius. I don’t have a photographic memory. And I’m not hot on a Matt Damon level.
But that’s where the dissimilarities end! Because I do live near Boston, I am skeptical of the value of formal education for most individuals (at least from the perspective of trying to learn things), and I do love learning in my spare time – technically all the time now that I’m a college dropout and don’t have “real” obligations.
But I should rewind…
This being the first blog entry of my first ever blog, I’m not so sure I know what I’m doing, really. But one of the best things in life is learning on the fly, because that’s when you get that shot of productive anxiety and your brain starts to fire on all cylinders! So here goes! Here’s a little bit about me, culminating in a fuller explication of the title of this blog entry:
My name is David Hu. If you were involved in the NJ high school ultimate scene, you may have known me as Dbacks, #13. I enjoy biking (though I don’t own a bike right now), stories, playing sports (not watching, not discussing, nor any of the other inferior substitutes), learning, reading, thinking, people, and taking action.
I do not enjoy putting myself in the tidy little boxes that are categorizations, which makes this intro entry somewhat more difficult. But here’s a WAY CONDENSED timeline of my life (I hope I’m not boring you silly with my self-centeredness):
I was born in Milwaukee, WI.
Grew up in Princeton, NJ in 5 different neighborhoods.
Hated high school.
Went to college for a little over a year at the University of Chicago.
Dropped out to battle severe depression.
Acquired fairly in-depth first-hand experience with the mental health industry.
Went to China and self-medicated with alcohol for a few months.
Returned to the States in the worst state of my life.
Hit rock bottom, but survived.
Found hope, clung to it like a motherfucker, and defeated said depression.
Enrolled at Rutgers for a month.
Dropped out to stop wasting my time and start pursuing my dreams.
Dropped in on the school of life.
Packed and drove to Waltham, MA, where my close friend goes to Brandeis.
Stumbled upon the Olin-Babson-Wellesley complex, just 5 miles south of Brandeis.
Befriended some Oliners, and through them heard about Fan Bi, an incredible guy and successful college entrepreneur (check out the sweet website for his company: http://www.blank-label.com/).
Met with and learned from Fan Bi for several hours a few afternoons ago, at the end of which he suggested I start a blog and find a job at a place where I’d have access to smart people who could help me do what I’m trying to do (start a social venture that will help college students – and others – overcome the debilitating adversity that is depression).
Realized that I’m pretty much gonna try to be Will Hunting and hang around med schools and other such credible organizations where there’s a plethora of smart people just waiting for their brains to be picked (ideally), sometime in the very near future.
Wrote this blog entry.
I’m going to end with a quote:
“When you go through times in your life that are quite a bit testing, and you come out, you find a strength that is unassailable, and you don’t know where you get it from, but you do…”
-Nerina Pallot
I’ve found this unassailable strength within me, and it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I hope that I can help you to find the unassailable strength in you.
And that’s all I’ve got for this first entry. Check back in later! And feel free to introduce yourself!
Your friend,
David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
But that’s where the dissimilarities end! Because I do live near Boston, I am skeptical of the value of formal education for most individuals (at least from the perspective of trying to learn things), and I do love learning in my spare time – technically all the time now that I’m a college dropout and don’t have “real” obligations.
But I should rewind…
This being the first blog entry of my first ever blog, I’m not so sure I know what I’m doing, really. But one of the best things in life is learning on the fly, because that’s when you get that shot of productive anxiety and your brain starts to fire on all cylinders! So here goes! Here’s a little bit about me, culminating in a fuller explication of the title of this blog entry:
My name is David Hu. If you were involved in the NJ high school ultimate scene, you may have known me as Dbacks, #13. I enjoy biking (though I don’t own a bike right now), stories, playing sports (not watching, not discussing, nor any of the other inferior substitutes), learning, reading, thinking, people, and taking action.
I do not enjoy putting myself in the tidy little boxes that are categorizations, which makes this intro entry somewhat more difficult. But here’s a WAY CONDENSED timeline of my life (I hope I’m not boring you silly with my self-centeredness):
I was born in Milwaukee, WI.
Grew up in Princeton, NJ in 5 different neighborhoods.
Hated high school.
Went to college for a little over a year at the University of Chicago.
Dropped out to battle severe depression.
Acquired fairly in-depth first-hand experience with the mental health industry.
Went to China and self-medicated with alcohol for a few months.
Returned to the States in the worst state of my life.
Hit rock bottom, but survived.
Found hope, clung to it like a motherfucker, and defeated said depression.
Enrolled at Rutgers for a month.
Dropped out to stop wasting my time and start pursuing my dreams.
Dropped in on the school of life.
Packed and drove to Waltham, MA, where my close friend goes to Brandeis.
Stumbled upon the Olin-Babson-Wellesley complex, just 5 miles south of Brandeis.
Befriended some Oliners, and through them heard about Fan Bi, an incredible guy and successful college entrepreneur (check out the sweet website for his company: http://www.blank-label.com/).
Met with and learned from Fan Bi for several hours a few afternoons ago, at the end of which he suggested I start a blog and find a job at a place where I’d have access to smart people who could help me do what I’m trying to do (start a social venture that will help college students – and others – overcome the debilitating adversity that is depression).
Realized that I’m pretty much gonna try to be Will Hunting and hang around med schools and other such credible organizations where there’s a plethora of smart people just waiting for their brains to be picked (ideally), sometime in the very near future.
Wrote this blog entry.
I’m going to end with a quote:
“When you go through times in your life that are quite a bit testing, and you come out, you find a strength that is unassailable, and you don’t know where you get it from, but you do…”
-Nerina Pallot
I’ve found this unassailable strength within me, and it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I hope that I can help you to find the unassailable strength in you.
And that’s all I’ve got for this first entry. Check back in later! And feel free to introduce yourself!
Your friend,
David
[nsn_quick_feedback]
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