Chronicle - Intro

Some time ago, after an inspirational team meeting where we all decided to commit and go for it, Hari sent me this text message:

Advice to you if you don't mind: Chronicle everything. The progression, the ideas, the motives, the inspiration, and the events. One year later, you'll have

Mar 30, 11:15 PM

everything you need to put a book together.

Mar 30, 11:15 PM

Every 2-3 days if possible

Mar 30, 11:16 PM

***

When I first started this blog, I had pretty grandiose notions of what it could accomplish. I thought that if I just created the right inspirational content and got it into the hands of the right people, the whole world would come together to "solve" college depression. My hope was that college students struggling with depression would stumble across my blog, find a friend in my words, and find the courage to take action to overcome their depression.

Reality check - didn't happen.

What did happen, roughly:

1 I rambled.

2 I made an ass of myself trying to publicize these ramblings.

The third thing that happened, I think, was that my (soon-to-be) team saw how crazy I was (see 1 and 2), and for whatever combination of reasons decided to take the time to give me a little direction. Eventually, they decided to join me.

Thank you, blog.

***

But this story doesn't have a happy ending.

Just a few weeks after Hari sent me that message, we fell apart. As anyone who's ever tried to start a venture probably knows, it's hard as hell to keep a team together (especially when you're broke).

To be honest, sometimes I feel like I've failed. Big time.

But then I remember that failure is only failure if you haven't learned anything from it.

With that in mind, and at both Hari's and Colin's suggestions (and with Dan's blessing), I've decided to briefly chronicle what happened this past half year or so. If nothing else, it'll help me sort out just what there is to learn from this whole experience.

Man, do I hate writing. Retroactively, I always come off somewhat more juvenile, sentimental, arrogant, self-centered, inconsiderate, irrelevant, or just plain crazy than I'd like to...

-David

Update - Indefinite Hiatus

Hey all,

I've decided to take an indefinite hiatus from writing. There are many reasons, but perhaps the most important:

I've found that the moment I get into a didactic mindset, I become incredibly boring.

As for our venture, my team will be spending the next few months really getting to know college students who are struggling with depression, primarily in the Boston and NYC areas. We hope to gain the type of understanding that will allow us to shape our venture into something much more specifically and intimately connected to the needs of those who are struggling with depression. This will take a significant amount of time, but when it comes to designing a potential solution, we absolutely are thinking long-term. Who knows what will come, but we know we're going to learn a hell of a lot.

I don't know when I'll next be back to write again, but for now, I'll leave you with this:

Do the things that will make you proud.

Struggle as hard as you can for whatever you believe in.

Corny and generic as they are, these are pretty much the only two rules I live by. I've found that in the face of uncertainty, when no one else is willing - or even able - to give me guidance, these two rules get me by. I've made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret them because I know I live by these two rules and always will.

Best of luck.

-David

Permanence - Taking a picture in the Chinese countryside (I just wanna BE)

I recently spent some time in China over the Chinese (lunar) New Year. Let me share with you today a brief incident that reminded me of an important lesson.

Now, I’m normally not a picture taker. I don’t like lugging around a camera because I feel like it inhibits my freedom, and there’s always been something false about photos that I dislike. How easy it is to misrepresent the past with the artistic hand/eye of a photographer and some conjured emotion from the photographed subjects! (The exception would be action shots or candids – the genuine stuff)

On the other hand, there’s something awfully nice about flipping through old photos every once in a while. The passing of time sweetens even the shittiest of memories, and (for me) photographs remind me of this. Plus it’s nice to have some record of your existence – I admit, if it weren’t for the photo-snapping proclivities of others, I would have passed through young adulthood a photographic ghost.

Anyway, one morning I took a walk for a few hours in the Chinese countryside, camera in tow. There’s something real about China (esp the countryside) that strongly resonates with me, and despite China’s frenzied efforts to commercialize and industrialize, etc, this quality of real is gonna be there for quite some time, I think. Often when I’m in the States, I miss that realness terribly. So I try to capture it on camera when I get the chance.

Being sort of an outlier in the countryside (in terms of dress, height, general mannerisms, etc) I drew some funny looks just walking by. But when I started to take pictures of mundane everyday things (mundane and everyday for them) I started to get the sense that people thought I was bonkers.

Frankly, though, most people didn’t really care. That’s something about China (at least certain parts of China) that I really enjoy – everybody can pretty much do their own thing, and as long as you’re not massively destroying things, etc, people won’t really pay you any mind. In this sense, it reminds me a little of NYC – there’s a strong sense of anonymity, where everyone is too preoccupied with their own business to care about you.



The point is, to them I was just another oddity, perhaps a little further out on the spectrum of strange, but just a passing transient oddity nonetheless. No big deal.

Some people even engaged in good natured small-talk. A woman from amongst a group of trash workers I photographed (excuse the translation):

“What are you photographing?”

“Oh, excuse me, I’m from America. Just curious…” (If in doubt, play the “I’m an ignorant American who finds your plain everyday reality utterly fascinating” card)

“America? Go home and show them how hard we work! On New Year’s too!” she said with a hearty (somewhat weary) laugh.

***

But one man who happened to be in the background of a photo I took was offended. Or at least pretty pissed off. I could tell.

“What are you looking at?” he said, subtly angry.

That’s another thing about the Chinese that I’ve noticed – in initial exchanges, even strong emotions are conveyed only latently. There’s a lot of restrained passion, I think, and if you’re not aware of this layer of restraint, you may not even notice what runs beneath it. (I may be wrong, haven’t really spent much time there, but that’s the feel I get)

Anyway, this man’s response set me thinking.

What right did I have to take these photos? To disturb his privacy? Intrude on his way of life? Etc. I immediately vowed to be more sensitive about other people’s privacy in the future.

But all this then led (and I followed) to another train of thought, separate but related.

What is really so valuable about taking photos anyway?

***

The more I consider it, the more I see the importance of living in the moment.



Live each moment like it’s your last. It’s cliché, but it’s damn good advice.

Taking photos can be nice, but when it gets to the point that the photos outstrip your own experience of an event, that’s just absurd.

Let’s face it. No matter how much we may want to preserve a good memory, it’s ultimately not that important to do so.

I say this as a writer – as someone who has a strong tendency to chronicle, and who naturally plays up the significance of things. (Writing is just photography w/language, no? It’s more stealth, of course…)

I say this as someone who believes memories are the most valuable things a person can accumulate in his or her life – more valuable than money, than recognition, etc.

I say this as someone who uses past memories as a powerful source of motivation in my life – as anchors to keep me going through tough times.

But I say this as someone who sees that what truly is vitally important is to learn to live in the here and now.

When I think hard on it, perhaps the most important thing in life is to learn to become independent.



At least from the perspective of trying to be happy, independence is crucial.

Independence from other people. Independence from external events. And independence from the past (and future).

The fact is, people are inconsistent. I know this because I am inconsistent. I’m sure if I read over old posts on this blog, I’d disagree with some of the things I wrote. And that’s fine – that’s good, because if you’re not changing as you go along, you’re doing something wrong. But don’t put too much hope in others, because that’s just not sustainable.

External events are largely out of your control. There are simply too many factors to consider – life is too dynamic.

And the past? As sweet as memories can be, they’re still just that – memories. The notion of being “washed up” or “out of one’s prime” is pure horseshit, I think. Even if there were some truth to it, you shouldn’t take such a defeatist approach. Each day holds the potential for new discovery, so carpe diem like hell.

Don’t try to hold on to the past. Let go, and really live and try to put a fresh spin on each new day.

***

I write this post at an interesting time for me.

On the one hand, my many obligations are leaving me less and less time to write for joy (for example, for this blog). I’m also increasingly feeling a sense of futility that comes with writing – the fact is, not many people know how to bridge the (supposed) gap between reading and changing one’s life. We’re out there, but we’re definitely in the minority, I’d say.

On the other hand, I have a lot of stories I’d like to get down, partly because I think they’re illustrative of good ideas, and partly because I take joy in doing so – as mentioned, writing satisfies for me a strong urge to chronicle.

And don’t get me wrong, chronicling is important! After all, that’s how “civilization” started, right? Certainly, once we start the pilot program for our social venture, I’ll be doing a hell of a lot of chronicling.

But I am someone who majorly struggles with living in the moment. Sometimes I am immobilized by past memories. And even in fresh exciting situations, I sometimes catch myself up in my head, preoccupied with this or that, rather than appreciating the gift of experiencing the now.

I’ll be working hard to change this. And to some extent, this means I’ll be writing less – chronicling less – and living more.

I hope you will too.

I’ll also be working hard to strike the balance between long-term plans (plans that require blind focus and sheer will to the exclusion of many other things, all in the name of “the big picture” goal) and living in the moment.

Which, when you think about it, is an even bigger picture way of looking at things – more important than even “success” and “achievement” and all that.

If you don’t trust me on this, try a few words from the Bible (I don’t care if you’re not religious, there’s some good stuff there, and it’s actually not a bad read):

Ecclesiastes



The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem:

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”

says the Teacher.

“Utterly meaningless!

Everything is meaningless.”

In the various sections of Ecclesiastes, the Teacher’s proclamation is explained under various subheadings, among them: Wisdom is meaningless. Pleasures are meaningless. Toil is meaningless. Advancement is meaningless. And so on.

There’s some really good stuff there, but for purposes of today, here’s the take home message:

“A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work.”



In other words, live in the moment.

***

I know this post was sort of rambling/incoherent, it’s been a while, but here’s what I was trying to convey:

Nothing is forever.



You can’t have anything forever, so don’t cling. (Especially don’t cling to a negative/harmful sense of self – no matter how fucked up you think you are, you can change, because that’s not forever either)

Specifically when it comes to photo-obsessing, I rather like the old African belief that every picture taken of you steals a tiny bit of your soul from you. (Consider that before you embark upon a career in porn)



If you can really come to accept that nothing is forever, and learn to let go, you can derive a great deal of strength from that realization. It frees you to

Live in the moment.



Learn to live with independence, including independence from the past and the future.



Live in the here and now.

***

And you know what? Many of the peasants in the Chinese countryside intuitively understand this. They don't often have the luxury to constantly indulge in memories, which can so often be counterproductive or even harmful. So they don't.

There's something beautiful about living each day for itself, not for glory, not for the story, not for permanence, not for anything...

I guess what I'm trying to say is, life is beautiful itself, even if there's no deeper meaning to it.

The peasant who got angry at me for taking his picture - he was just living his life, standing outside with his family and friends, living in the moment.

Until I rudely fucked that up. I'm sorry, and I know I'll be careful to be more respectful in the future, but I definitely learned something...

***

I want to be as free as the spirits of those who left

...

Never looking back or too far in front of me

The present is a gift

And I just wanne BE.

-Common in his album "Be"

***

-David

The Work of Psychoanalysts in the Public Health Sector - Intro (The concept of “containment”)

Been reading this book (title above, edited by Mary Brownescombe Heller and Sheena Pollet) that according to the back cover “provides a comprehensive insight into the ways in which psychoanalysts think and work.”

Here are some thoughts on the concept of “containment,” as illustrated through the lens of parent-infant relationship.

"CONTAINMENT"

 

THE THEORY (described by Bion, 1962, paraphrased here):

-Baby depends on mother to manage said baby’s “unbearable experience” which baby can convey to her w/o words (through gestures, etc).

-Baby disposes this unbearable or unmanageable experience (labeled a beta element) to mother by projecting it on her

-Mother takes in this unmanageable experience, reflects on it (reverie), then returns this to the child in the form of a modified, more bearable experience (alpha element). Returning the reflected-on beta element, for the mother, is performing her alpha function.

-Alpha elements can be used for thinking, so the baby can then think a rudimentary thought.

-The whole process is containment. Bion considered it a “crucial factor in the infant’s developing the capacity to manage his own experience and to think.”

 

COMMON SENSE TRANSLATION (in case you didnt get it the first time around)

-Baby conveys difficult emotions through gestures, aura, crude baby-like sounds, etc.

(Poor) tennis analogy: On the ad-side, baby hits a mean kick serve to mother’s backhand.

-Mother processes the baby’s harsh emotions with her motherly wisdom, and returns a gentler more manageable response to the baby, again via gestures, aura, subtle facial expressions, etc.

With Agassi-like prowess, mother steps inside the baseline, takes the kick serve early with a compact backhand, almost no backswing, and remarkable reaction time. Unlike Agassi, she feathers this return to baby’s forehand, right in his comfort zone.

-Baby thinks, and therefore learns to deal with life, from mother’s returned (modified) response.

Baby drills a forehand winner down the line. He wins – at tennis, and at life, which tennis is supposedly a great representation of. He learns to think, on the court and off.

 

REAL-WORLD IMPLICATIONS

I believe we should be able to use this process of “containment” to develop the depressed person’s capacity to manage his own experience differently.

Sure, a college-student’s mind may not have the same level of plasticity as an infant’s, but I’d say we’re at an even more influenceable stage of life – perhaps even the most influenceable age. At least in terms of higher-level decision-making and cognitive choices (combined with the opportunity to explore), there’s no time like now for change.

And make no mistake, it’s entirely possible for someone, even with the severest depression and the most stubborn/unwilling personality, to change the way he manages his experiences.

Two people might experience the same or a similar experience. Due to personal factors/worldview/innate character traits, one might react positively (manage the experience well), and the other might react negatively (manage the experience poorly).

Is the second person doomed to forever poorly manage his experiences? Hell no. It’s never late to change, even (and perhaps especially) for someone of college age. I know because I did it. It's hard work, but it’s entirely possible.

 

THE QUESTION IS, HOW?

To what extent is talking useful? How about taking action (for instance, by embracing one's passions in the effort to develop a sense of self-worth)? Does action really have to be premeditated for a specific consequence in order for beneficial changes to take place? Etc.

I'll definitely have these kinds of questions in mind as we look to start the pilot program for our social venture.

Keep reading as I keep reading, and as I retrospect and extrapolate from my own life to try to figure out how to codify the process as much as possible.

The important thing is to turn all this theory into something:

1 Actionable

2 Scalable

Our venture will have limited impact unless we can find a way to do this.

Anyone have any ideas?

-David

“Dancing” – Intro (Your Individual Style)

Been reading “Dancing” by Ellen Jacob. Here are some quotes and thoughts from the first chapter, titled “Your Individual Style.”

***

“What makes you a good dancer is not trying to be someone you’re not…What makes you a good dancer is being yourself, but more so.”

Don’t know about you, but this reminds me of the “longing for your giant self” Kahlil Gibran spoke of in “The Prophet” (see my post On Education – Intro).

Seriously, you hear people talk about this kind of “embrace yourself” stuff all the time, and it sounds cliché, I know. I talk about it all the time, I guess, and sometimes I feel like I’m beating it to death. But it’s so true.

“Underneath all that you do ticks an individual style that makes you the inimitable person – and dancer – you are. The singular form and structure of your body, how they make you move, your sense of timing, your feelings and your experiences are the raw materials you have to work with as a dancer. However limiting they may seem sometimes, they are your lump of clay, ready to be kneaded and shaped into movement. Success – whether for yourself of before an audience – depends to a great extent on how effectively you can make your unique qualities of body and spirit work for you.”



I’m telling you, this is absolutely true. I’ve been through the wanting-to-be-someone-else thing before. To the extreme.

When I was still at UChicago as a premed (briefly), one factor that drove me further into my depression was the sense that no matter how hard I tried, I’d never be able to fit into the whole culture of medicine.

In my heart, I was sure I’d make for a good doctor – I had the genuine desire to work with people, the relentless work ethic (once I decided I wanted to be a doctor, I got straight A’s), the mental toughness, and the intelligence, both practical and academic.

But somehow I knew I just didn’t have that doctor persona, or at least the one that people typically associate with doctors. The fact is, it’s not the doctor persona that heals people – it’s the doctor. But med school admissions boards didn’t really seem hip to that, at least from what I could tell from my anally extensive research into admissions forums (every premed does this, all the time, it’s practically part of homeostasis for them). And frankly, our society values this persona so much, it’s gotten to the point where it might actually be important for patients in terms of the placebo effect.

But to get back to “Dancing.”

“Many dancers stop far short of realizing their potential because they feel they don’t fit some stereotyped notion of what a dancer should be. Or they make the mistake of trying to cram themselves into an ill-fitting mold. In doing so, they lose their greatest ally, the natural dancer within. For dancing is best and most enjoyable when you use it to express – not suppress – yourself. There is a mushrooming effect: The more of yourself you can put into dancing, the more satisfying it will be both for you and for others watching you.”

You see? Dancing is best when you use it to express yourself. And expressing yourself – being genuine – makes you a more attractive person to others too.

My friends sometimes say I’m socially awkward as hell. I’m also somewhat culturally retarded in terms of knowing things that people my age generally know. I don’t deny any of this – I just tend to think of it in a different light. Social awkwardness, if it’s the result of being genuine and expressing oneself, practically converges to confidence.

And we all know how sexy confidence is, right?

I’ve learned not to waste a single ounce of my energy trying to be anyone but myself. If I don’t feel like watching the Superbowl, then fuck the Superbowl. Some people may think I’m an idiot, but many people who get to know me seem to like me just fine.

I’m telling you, there exists an immediate understanding between two genuine people, an awareness, an intangible bond. Even if they have little in common, the fact that they’re genuine and that they pursue their own interests with passion – that’s the strongest basis for friendship there is.

I’ve been fortunate in my life to have met a few people like this, and these people are the ones I feel most kinship with. Just the thought of them serves as a shot of inspiration to the soul.

And you know what? Freeing myself from the stressful and energy-requiring “conforming process” allows me to devote myself to the loads of other way more interesting things out there. Like dancing, for example.

But back to “Dancing.”

“The pages of dance history are filled with accounts of dancers who learned to capitalize on what they could do rather than be limited by what they couldn’t change…Ironically, many of the concert pieces we see today are the product of a certain dancer’s inability to conform to the prevailing standards of his or her day. Steps, whole dances and entire movement styles have been invented out of a choreographer’s personal oddities – which have, in fact, turned out not to be limitations but openings into new ways of moving.”



I have Tourette’s syndrome. As an actor, I worry a lot about this. Trying to control my tics can be a pain in the ass. But sometimes I get the feeling that paying attention to them and trying to control them lends me an extra awareness of my body that gives me a leg up when it comes to acting. Perhaps this is just my way of trying to justify a weakness. But regardless, I’m excited to see how I maneuver around my Tourette’s as I try to get my acting career off the ground.



“If you wish to make the most of your dancing ability, you cannot afford to sacrifice your personal style by slavishly pursuing an ideal body form or a movement idiom that happens to be prized by current fashion…if you want to dance, and dance well, whatever you’ve got is all you need. Indeed it is the greatest thing you have to offer.”



“'Style is character,' exclaims novelist Joan Didion. Style is an act of courage.”

***

Have the sand to embrace your individual style and express yourself.

-David

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On Pride – Intro (Humility, a source of strength and pride)

Pride is a messy concept, and I guess it makes for a somewhat messy blog category too (Shame, Self Worth, Confidence, anyone?).

Top dog on the list of Cardinal Sins (7 Deadly Sins), we hear premonitions about how Pride will lead to your downfall, etc. No one likes an arrogant big-headed jerk unless they are one, right?

That being said, I think there are many things one can do to cultivate a sense of pride in oneself, and that taken together, these (sometimes very small) things can be a powerful antidote to depression.



With this in mind, I’ve decided to start a series of posts on Pride, of which this is the introductory post, where I will share my ideas and tips on how to cultivate a sense of pride in oneself.

For today, though, I’d like to go off track a little, stay more in the realm of the general, and discuss Humility.

There may be some people who think of humility as the converse of pride – who think the two are diametrically opposed.

I strongly disagree (though of course the terms themselves are pretty broad, and at a certain point it might just come to semantics). Let me explain:

For a while now, I’ve recognized an element of humility that I approach all of my endeavors with. This is somewhat difficult to explain, because on the one hand I tend to approach most things with the belief that I can conquer them, at least to a significant degree (and given a lot of hard work and a lot of time).

What I mean to convey is that I hold a tremendous respect, a reverence even, for the challenges I take on. Take acting, for example, a new pursuit of mine.

When I think of myself as an actor, I don’t think of myself as merely someone who is manipulating his body and his voice to achieve a certain desired effect, although that technically could be one way to define what an actor does.

No, I think much bigger than that. As an actor, I think of myself as someone who has the chance to uplift humanity. You know that magical feeling you get when you’re sitting in the theatre and you experience on the screen a moment so real, so true, it hits you strong, deep past just your immediate visual/auditory senses?

As an actor, I think of myself as one of many hopefuls – hopeful to one day earn the chance to create that feeling of magic.

And I am enormously proud to have this opportunity.

But I recognize that all of it together – all that is “Acting” – is far greater than any individual’s prowess or ability. (Even the mad skillz of Daniel Day Lewis. Damn he’s good.)

I recognize this when I think of all the people for whom going to the movies/theatre is their one chance for relief from the hardship of life – their chance for fantasy, for solace from reality. I think of all the brave artists who paved the way for this art form, who worked hard and gave their lives to set up the acting studios and share their expertise through books – to nurture the hopefuls like me. And I think of all the other actors out there who stake their lives on a dream (and wait tables or write on the side). And so on.

When I think about things in this “big picture” kind of way, I experience a tremendous feeling of humility.

And I draw tremendous strength from this humility.



It seems there are a lot of big name celebrities (and other people) these days who are pretty caught up in themselves. Some of these people seem to think they’re a personal incarnation of God.

I don’t actually have any problem with these people – if it helps them perform better to be a conceited asshole, fine by me. I don’t really give a shit, to be honest.

But what does strike me as pathetic about the celebrity God-complex is how much these people seem to rely on the spotlight for their self-worth. What happens if their gift or ability to perform is suddenly taken away (freak accident, etc)? What happens when they get old? When people stop constantly shoving microphones in their face and kissing their ass? What then?

These people have over-inflated senses of pride, and like with all over-inflated bubbles, something will eventually (inevitably) burst (see “Super Bubble”: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90328243). Consequences often aren’t pretty.

If you ground yourself in humility, however, you are invincible to this kind of weakness.

Seriously, if I lost a limb in a car accident tomorrow (and that would pretty definitively preclude me from most roles, I’d say), I’d be pissed, probably even devastated, but my sense of self-worth, my sense of pride – I’m confident all of this would stay strong for me and remain intact. And that’s because I’m aware that in the grand scheme of things, I’m just one more hopeful actor in a slew of them, all of us playing one infinitesimally small role in the vast and illustrious history of all of theatre.

So what if things don’t pan out for me in particular? Things will go on w/o me, and I’ll channel my talents elsewhere.

Knowing I can handle this truth gives me incredible strength.

Humility gives me incredible strength.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to develop this kind of mindset (it took me a long time). And as someone with a pocketful of dreams (shoutout to Alicia Keys), I know very well what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly in revolution on the inside – to feel that explosive desire for the chance to show the world what you’re made of.

But coming to terms with my own insignificance, and my own humility – that has been a great source of strength for me.



And I take great pride in the fact that I’m able to do it - able to stay humble - day in and day out. In my mind, that alone makes me a sweeter human being than a lot of the self-absorbed (sometimes even talented) people out there.

Recently, I started reading Oscar Wilde’s “De Profundis.” When I get the chance to finish it, I’ll put up a post on it (lots of good relevant stuff). But for now, I suggest that you listen to Fort Minor's "Remember the Name" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ska8_JAtL8)

Despite the song’s title, note how even someone w/the ghetto mentality can channel pride into loyalty (to one’s clique) and artistry, rather than money and status.

Note humility for opportunity.

Note how being humble does not preclude you from striving, and how it can actually serve as a strength and a source of pride.

Check back in for more on Pride! Future posts won't be this abstract, I promise…

-David

Update

Hey all,

Just a heads up - I'll be spending a lot of time now freelancing and working on a book, among other things, so I'll be blogging more sporadically.

I should still be able to do one or two posts a week, but I won't be able to pull the 20+ entries in a month anymore.

Please stay with me - keep reading!

-David

P.S. Check out the new feedback box Colin installed - if you ever want to reach me via email (about anything at all), go ahead and give me a shout!

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On Motivation – Wanting to give up

I would like to dispel a myth today – the myth that successful people are determined from day one and never for a second think about giving up.

Of course I can’t make this claim with absolute certainty. I suppose it’s possible there are outliers – people with wills of steel (or perhaps just a powerful ability to deny) – but being that these people are just plain better than me and clearly possess a definitive superiority over the rest of the human race…well, I try not to think about them too much. I mean, that’s just discouraging.

Now, I’m a very determined person. I’ve got big plans, and I’m not afraid to talk about them because I know that even though they may not work out, I will do anything within the realm of possibility to give them even the smallest chance of success. (Forget modesty when it comes to your ambitions – I say talk a huge game, bust your ass trying to walk as much of it as you can, and then be happy with the outcome, and with yourself.)

All this being said, I still think about giving up sometimes. Pretty often, actually.



That’s right. On a semi-regular basis, maybe once or twice a week, I think about giving up. I think, Fuck this, I’m done.

Seriously, when I’m in the moment, experiencing this kind of feeling, it’s not a casual thing. It’s real contemplation, real consideration.

Specifically, when I think about giving up on our social venture, I think:

Why bust my butt (unsolicitedly) trying to help other people overcome depression and unleash their potential? Why (practically) impose my ideas on the world and come off as an arrogant prick? Why intrude on other people’s lives and disturb the peace (and put myself in uncomfortable situations in doing so)? Really, most of the time I’m a pretty solitary guy and would just prefer to leave everyone alone.

Why tackle such a seemingly vague and amorphous challenge, one with murky metrics and colossally entrenched interests?

Why not look out for number one? I’ve got a lot of other interests, and I’m well aware that I won’t always be young and vigorous or what have you. Physical peak is, what, 26?

Why not give up?

***

Two nights ago, on the way back from dance class in the city, I passed out on the train and overslept my stop. I woke up just as we were pulling away, the “Princeton Junction” sign mocking me through the windows of the train.

Fuck, do they even have another train running back towards New York this late at night?

I got off at the next stop, Hamilton, and it was utterly deserted. Train station barren, shrouded in the dark night.

Standing there with my duffel slung over my shoulder, I realized it’d been a long time since I’d experienced this kind of aloneness.

Let me tell you, it’s one thing to be alone. Being alone and cold is another thing entirely. (Being alone and cold and hungry is yet a third, but thankfully I’d eaten that day)

I checked the schedule on the bulletin – one last train headed my way in the night schedule, 1:05. Hallelujah. Then I checked my watch. 12:40.

To pass the time, I ran thoughts through my head, even though I didn’t feel like it. Blackbody radiation…anything with mass gives off heat, yes? I should stay near the train station building, right?

I slipped my bag off and started rehearsing the new choreography, but I didn’t know it well enough to do it alone, and w/o the music (Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce – “Telephone”).

I would’ve worked on memorizing my monologue, but I didn’t have my gloves and it was too cold to hold a book with exposed fingers.

Then someone else showed up.

Visually prejudiced, I immediately judged him as a rough character by his clothes and his luggage. But when he stepped back and lit a cigarette, I practically could’ve hugged the guy.

That simple gesture of lighting up was such a human gesture, it immediately comforted me.

I felt infinitely less alone – such is the gift of being around other people. It’s something we often take for granted, but isolate yourself for long enough and you really learn to appreciate it. Trust me on this one.

Anyway, a few minutes after 1:05, the train came, and the two of us boarded.

***

There were five of us in that section of the train. Two were uniformed Assistant Conductors. The other two turned out to be transit workers as well, just getting off duty to go home for the night. And me.

Two of them struck up a conversation. Then one of the off-duty transit workers looked up, slipped off his headphones, and said,

“You talking about what happened yesterday?”

They weren’t at all, but they let him continue.

“Yeah, well, yesterday I was coming home at like 1 AM, and there was a big commotion over here, lots of police cars and stuff. They didn’t let us get off, took us straight to Trenton, and you could see a body wrapped in a sheet. Someone threw themselves in front of the train. Suicide, apparently. ”



One of the Assistant Conductors: “That’s the fourth one this week. Two on Monday alone.”



I pipe in: “Is that about usual? Four?”



Assistant Conductor: “Well it’s after Christmas. Right after the holidays, that’s when you see a lot.”



Off-duty transit worker: “Yeah, suicide…must be depression. A LOT of depression out there.”



Other off-duty transit worker: “Man, people just react differently, you know? I mean, you get in some financial trouble or something, what’s that worth killing yourself over, you know? Then you just putting some financial troubles on your family, ‘cause now they gotta bury you.”



Me: “Well, it’s not a logical decision at that point. The brain does nothing but register constant intense pain, so it seeks escape.”



At that point we pulled into Princeton Junction so I got off, unable to continue the conversation, but thoughts were racing through my mind.

***

Sometimes the sheer magnitude of the challenge we’re going at scares the shit out of me. No joke, I get terrified.

Our venture only addresses one tiny portion of that challenge – and that alone terrifies me.

Everywhere I go, I bump into people who reaffirm the reality of the challenge. And that terrifies me.

Seriously, it’s unreal how widespread depression is these days. And often you wouldn’t know it unless something came up that smacked you in the face. People don’t really ever talk about it, it seems, unless they’ve personally been affected by it in some way.

I was talking to a cafeteria worker at Olin, John, about our social venture a while ago, and John said to me, “Depression? You won’t have trouble finding business there. Depression, that’s everywhere…”



At an open call in NYC with RE:QUEST Model Management, they asked me what my hobbies were. I guess I don’t really have any these days, so I told them I was working on a social venture to help college kids fight depression. One of the guys cynically put out, “Hmm. Pop some pills, right?” Then one of the women who worked there said, “Wow, good for you. Good luck!”



In acting class, I met someone who turned out had been diagnosed with schizophrenia/depression in India, and who absolutely detested the way he’d been treated by all the psychiatrists he’d dealt with there. He told me he would’ve loved to have had the chance to try out the kind of program we’re looking to start soon.

At a Brookline Booksmith event in Brookline, MA, I plugged this blog and our social venture during Gretchen Rubin’s talk about her book, “The Happiness Project.” See here for details (sorry Ms. Rubin for using your space, and here’s some publicity back: http://www.gretchenrubin.com/) But people came up to me afterwards, and one woman opened up to me about her nephew in college who has having major problems with depression.

Even business-oriented people I speak with like our idea. A few people have said that they are generally very skeptical of these types of ideas, but that they like ours.

The only trouble is that it may be somewhat of a logistical nightmare to pull off…

***

The fact is, I consider it a privilege and honor to work in this space.

As much as I want to give up sometimes to pursue my other interests, I know I’m not dropping out on this. I think our idea – hooking people up with their passions in an environment that encourages constructive failure and embraces imperfection – has enormous potential. And not necessarily just for “depressed people” – if I can possibly do it, I’d like to take it to the prisons (Hari has a good story about this) and to the delinquents, and so on.

The fact is, it’s not a new idea. Looking back now, Jane Addams’ Hull House strikes me as similar (if I’m remembering them correctly), and I once read about some sort of “street MBA program” I think. Hell, when we came up with the idea, we had the Boy Scouts and RPG’s in mind…

But ideas are often most about execution and implementation. They’re about people. People who can make things happen.

My gut tells me my team and I are the right people at the right time to make this happen, and for that reason alone, I’m not giving up on this venture.

***

The thing about wanting to give up, even on the really important things – It’s okay.

As long as in the end you don't.

-David

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On Problem Solving – Intro (Constant vigilance, serendipity, and freelance writing)

The other day I was walking down Princeton’s (somewhat) famed Nassau Street when I ran into a friend’s mother (shoutout to Suzanne and David Kinsey, and to their ever-so-familiar green plates and couch).

We were both on our ways, but we did stop for a brief exchange of words and kindness. I asked about the state of their kitchen (currently under reconstruction). And she asked about the state of my ventures, at the end of which she offered me the following advice:

“Whatever you do, take notes, because at your heart you’re a writer.”

After we parted ways, I played w/that thought in my mind.

At your heart you’re a writer.

***

Let me tell you something about having little (or no) money: You never stop thinking about it. (At least for me, maybe I’m just a wuss)

You question every purchase – Was this really necessary? Could I have borrowed this from someone?



You veto most purchases in the first place – Alright, this vending machine iced tea is only 1.25, but if I buy this now and then do the same thing 2 other days, that’s like a whole buffet lunch! No, no, I can’t cave…



Then you start running cost-benefit analyses involving subjective things, like time, and things get way complex. (And often self-justifying)

It’s really amazing the number of times you can run through the mental math and still harbor the hope that you should be able to hold out longer than you’ve calculated. You really start to empathize and identify with “creative accountants.”

Slippery slope, no?

The point is, “the money issue” runs through your mind constantly, taking up valuable mental RAM.

Is this really a good thing, given how much other stuff one always seems to have on one’s plate?

Actually, yes.

***

There are myriad factors that precipitate and contribute to depression.

Each factor represents one challenge for you to take on. Sometimes the factors are intertwined, so that by tackling one challenge, you simultaneously tackle another.

The important thing is to constantly apply yourself to solving these challenges. It doesn’t always have to be a big heroic struggle, but every single day you should do at least one small thing to make the day a little better. Don’t let a single day pass without.

Overcoming depression is to some extent just an exercise in problem-solving.



Effective problem-solving requires unceasing attention to the problem at hand. Even if you’re not thinking specifics, meditation on the problem yields invaluable, if sometimes intangible, benefits.

In the words of Alastor Moody, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!



In the car, in the shower, on a run, in an uninspiring class/meeting/whatever – these are all times for you to meditate on the issues and challenges that are important to you.

Don’t think rigidly – be creative.



In “The Golden Compass,” when Lyra is learning to use the alethiometer, Farder Coram tells her,

“One thing I do know, Lyra, you mustn’t grasp at the answer. Hold the question in your mind, but lightly, like it was something alive.”



Your question is a live one, and so are you, so think and act like it!



If you get some absurd ideas, don’t be afraid to follow through on some of them. Try them out! You won’t always get the result you want, but sometimes what you do get turns out to be even more valuable than what you were originally aiming for. If nothing else, you’ll have learned something, and perhaps you’ll get a fresh idea from your new experiences.

Hit your problems from every possible angle with everything you’ve got.

***

At your heart you are a writer.

***

I’d thought about being an (out-of-work) writer before. It seems if one is going to try to make a living from “occupations” that seem to champion unemployment (like I am), one might as well be unemployed in all of them simultaneously.

Although I have zero formal training, with hard work I have a feeling I could probably become an okay writer, and I really do get satisfaction from crafting meaning with words.

No, it was never the “out-of-work” aspect that bothered me about writing for a living. It was more the inability to achieve mass meaningful impact, at least for most writers, and at least for the type of writing that you can actually make a living off of.

There’s a reason it’s said about the difference between journalism and literature:

“The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable, and literature is not read”



-Oscar Wilde



But we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes. Compromise is the name of the game when it comes to getting paid.

That night, after running into my friend’s mother, I realized freelance writing is the solution to my money problem.

Sure, writing copy doesn’t often offer much in the way of creative expression, and sure it’s “going commercial” to some extent, but there’s low barrier to entry, and I can do it on the side from wherever I am.

Money. Flexibility. The chance to develop highly efficient writing skills and a broad knowledge base?

Problem solved.

***

You see how much there is to gain from holding the important questions in your mind at all times?

It prepares you for chance, whether chance takes the form of a random encounter, a few words read off a street sign, a song lyric, or anything else that could inspire a useful idea.

Keep the important questions alive in your mind. Parlay serendipity to do the answering for you.

***

Check back in for more thoughts and ideas on Problem Solving! I’m sure I’ll be doing a lot of it as I try to break into the freelance writing scene with zero credentials…

-David

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On Therapy – Intro (It’s all about the people)

When I think about some of the enormous challenges facing the world today, I realize that I firmly believe the solutions for many of these challenges lay right before us, out in the open, absolutely within reach. (Forgive my youthful idealism)

I believe that for many of these challenges, we don’t necessarily need high technology or extreme sophistication.

Off the top of my head, depression (slated to become the world’s 2^nd leading disease burden by 2020) and education (it’s pretty much universally accepted we’re in deep trouble) both immediately strike me as crucial areas where advanced science and technology serve a tangential purpose. (Blasphemy, eh?)

Sure, they help, sometimes in revolutionary ways (The internet rocks, man), and sure they’re impressive (Drugs that can correct the chemical imbalances in your brain? Dayummn…). But at a certain point a device is just a device. (Shoutout to Steven and Raphael for our conversation last night that brought some of this stuff to mind)

It’s really all about the people, when you think about it. Of all our resources, human capital is the most undertapped, and holds the most promise.



There’s no question in my mind – what we need most urgently to do is to bring out the best in people. After all, we are the jumping off point for everything else.



To do this, we need to lend wings to the fearlessly creative people who will innovate, and to the relentlessly determined people who will implement.

And innovation often just means throwing together “old” pieces of the puzzle in fresh combinations, and watching magic happen. (Ex – the shipping container is just a box, it’s one of the most important inventions of all time. See here: http://www.gizmag.com/go/5716/)

***

In the past, I have been critical of therapy as a long-term solution to depression (not that I’m in any credible position to judge, but still, that was my opinion). But the more and more I read about it, the more and more I think therapy holds enormous potential.

I’ve come to realize that my problem with therapy lies not in the theory, but in the implementation. A lot of this has to do with the negative experiences I’ve had with it. At some point, I may share some of these stories with you, so you know where I’m coming from.

The fact is, my world is narrow – I’m young.

As I explore the out-of-the-box alternatives that I think might hold great potential for helping people overcome depression, and as I imagine the day my team and I launch the pilot program for our social venture, I can’t help but think about some of the older, more experienced, more credentialed, more legit professionals who probably will look down on me with utter disdain.

What gives me - a "nobody" - the right to assume such responsibilities?

My response is one that I come back to time and time again:



"To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men – that is genius."



-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m young, but I do have a good amount and variety of life experience, both when it comes to the challenge I'm dealing with and when it comes to other things. And though my experiences most definitely will not be applicable to everyone, I know that some people resonate with them. As long as there are these few people, I’ll keep on, knowing that it's likely there are more. And based on some of the responses we’ve gotten already, I’m fairly confident we’re on to something with our ideas.

Everything else I need to know, I'll work hard to learn along the way.

But all this being considered, it’s high time I started educating myself on some of the stuff that's already out there - specifically on therapy. Because judging by some of the books I’m reading, there is indeed some incredible work being done by therapists around the world, and I feel it’s highly relevant that I learn about some of it. Of course I won’t be able to acquire the same sort of first-hand experience that an actual practicing therapist would, but I'll still be able to vicariously explore their world and pick their minds for ideas.

And you know what? When you really think about it, therapy really is all about the people. It’s really supposed to just be a mano-a-mano learning session, a transferrance of wisdom from “therapist” to “patient.”

Take off the white coats, strip the elite diplomas from the wall, and remove all the other barriers of ranks and labels and titles, and therapy is really just about finding the best ways for one person to inspire another, or for one person to help another inspire him/herself. At least that's how I see it.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided to start a series of posts on Therapy, of which this is the introductory post.

Check back in for my thoughts and ideas on therapy, as culled from my personal experiences, those of others, whatever literature I can get my hands on, and anything else that comes my way. Often, I will simply recap my findings without drawing connections at first, but I trust that the connections will start to forge themselves afterwards. And I promise to write in as non-academic and as accessible a way as possible. I firmly belive that even the most complex intellectual concepts can be communicated to the layman (or at least the thrust of those concepts). In fact, I imagine a world where everyone is a "therapist" in some way. We could all use a little wisdom and (self)knowledge every now and then, and I would love to a part of the effort to make "therapy" more accessible and relevant to us laypeople (read: if you ever wanted to learn about therapy through conversational language, read this series!).

The "Depression Epidemic" is a sign that human potential is just waiting to be unleashed. Therapy might well turn out be one of the most effective vehicles for unleashing it.

It might not, also, but who's to say?

-David

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On Humor – Intro (Well-timed humor’s power)

I had lunch with my father yesterday.

Have you ever been part of a conversation where one person suddenly strikes upon a deep and unpleasant truth – unpleasant because it’s the truth?

The room freezes, it seems, suspended in stillness as the false silence of truth permeates the air. False because while vocal chords cease productive movement, internal voices rage on, hustling to prepare for conflict and defense should it become necessary.

Sometimes it never does.

The last thing my father said was “I don’t give a shit.”

Then silence took over, and save for a few brief exchanges with the waiter, it maintained hold.

I kept waiting to defend my assertion, but the need never arose. He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t care to either.

At moments like these, everything in the immediate vicinity seems fucking stupid. Irrelevant. Mere trivialities.

The distinct hues of Buffalo Wild Wings décor. The practiced courtesy of waiters and waitresses. Vacuous commentator talk on the flatscreens hanging from the restaurant walls (shoutout to the Australian Open).

All bullshit in relation to your world, in relation to the gripping of a nascent truth on your conscience.

Then my father, uncharacteristically, broke the silence. He, again uncharacteristically, told a funny story. (Will is my 6-year-old brother)

So the other day Will was really mad with me. I couldn’t figure out why. Then finally he said to me, “Daddy, I had a really bad day…I told my friend my secret – I told him I peed in my pants – and he told everyone. He is a bad person. He can’t be trusted.”

Six-year-old drama is hilarious. (Sorry, Will, for immortalizing yours)

After that story, I heard a bit more, something about how a girl has a big crush on Will, and how she always wants to sit next to him in class, and how she keeps asking him if he’s Jewish…

At all of this, I laughed in spite of myself. I stopped being righteous and just let go.

The thing about humor in these kinds of situations - it doesn’t change anything.

But it softens the harshness, and sometimes pain, of unpleasant truths. It creates brief moments of joy to fill the silences.

Call it a defense mechanism, a distraction, a weakness – call it whatever the hell you want.

Humor works. It helps you keep on keeping on.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided to start a series of posts on Humor, of which this is the introductory post. I guess I have a lot of room for expression in this one…

Check back in for more!

-David

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On Dance – Intro (Hip Hop w/Chio at Broadway Dance Center)

A week ago Wednesday I took my first ever dance class, at the Broadway Dance Center in NYC.

I’m pretty coordinated when it comes to sports, simply because I’ve played them (a lot of them) my whole life. But when it came to dancing, I’ve always felt just plain dumb (physically).

So, being that I want to learn to master my body as much as possible for purposes of being a good actor, I enrolled in a beginner’s Hip Hop class.

The thing about these kinds of classes is, you really need to have someone legit teaching them, or you run the risk of feeling stupid (at least that’s how it works for me).

Chio, our teacher, was bloody brilliant. She had skills, she had style, and she had a dynamite personality.

And she was one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. Which, right away, is pretty much the first thing I look for when I try to get a sense of who someone is. I’m not very particular when it comes to this and that, but if you’re genuine, and you’re passionate, and you have the courage to trust in and be yourself, you’ve already scored mega cool points with me. But I digress.

Most of all, she loved dancing, and that showed through every second we were there. Even before class started, she was leaning in against the window to observe the previous class’ choreography, like a kid ogling ice cream flavors.

Her choreography wasn’t spectacularly dumbed down, I don’t think (can’t really say, given my zero prior experience).

Her teaching style: drill-sergeant dictatorial, but affectionately so, and in an incredibly encouraging way. Every once in a while she would make fun of us with an exaggerated caricature of an imitation to illustrate how ridiculous our moves looked sometimes, but she’d always follow with an, “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

With simple instructions (sometimes incorporating street analogies) and temporarily isolated body motions, she broke it down for us.

I’m not gonna lie, I still sucked. Majorly. Dancing is incredibly difficult for me, and I think it’s because I think too much.

I live too much up in my head.



The writer in me is constantly noticing everything around me. I pick up the vibes, the individual struggles and triumphs, the flow of the session. And so on.

But with dancing, at a certain point it’s not about intellectualizing things, or finding a rational explanation that underlies it all. That’s largely useless, in fact.

Just dance.



Trust in your body’s intelligence, your body’s smarts. Remember, we are creatures of the mind, yes, but we’re also just animals, to some degree.

“You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals

So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.”



-Bloodhound Gang

Alright, the subject matter is a bit different, but the point is there. Actually, if you’ve seen “Shall We Dance,” you might then make this connection:

“The rumba is the vertical expression of a horizontal wish. You have to hold her, like the skin on her thigh is your reason for living. Let her go, like your heart's being ripped from your chest. Throw her back, like you're going to have your way with her right here on the dance floor. And then finish, like she's ruined you for life.”



-Jennifer Lopez as hot dance teacher Paulina

I mean, it was a pretty absurd movie, but JLo did give some pretty good advice to lawyerly Richard Gere:

“Leave it. Leave the light. Don’t say anything. And don’t think…And don’t move, unless you feel it.”



You see? Sometimes we should shut up (verbally), shut down (mentally), and just express ourselves.

I believe dance holds enormous potential for helping people overcome depression. With this in mind, I've decided to start a series of posts on Dance, of which this is the introductory post. Check back in for more in the Dance series as I explore this potential, and as I (hopefully) learn how to dance!



Status update: I went back for my 2^nd class yesterday night, and I made exponential progress.

I still suck, significantly, of course.

-David

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“The Expressive Body” – Intro

Actions speak louder than words.

-Anonymous

***

Right now, I’m reading the expressive body: physical characterization for the actor by David Alberts.

If you’ve been reading this blog up until now, you know how highly I value taking action in the struggle to overcome depression (and many other problems).

You may also remember that I’ve touched on the importance of finding a connection between physical and emotional states, and using that connection to your advantage (see my earlier post “On Forgiveness – Intro (Having the courage to forgive yourself).”

After reading the introduction to “The Expressive Body,” I’m more convinced than ever that taking action through acting training holds enormous potential for helping people overcome depression.

Stay tuned as I draw insights from this book and filter them through my “fight depression” lens. You’ll get to learn a bit (of theory, at least) about acting too!

-David

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On Perfectionism – Intro

Perfectionism is one hell of a force to reckon with.

On the one hand, it can propel you to greater and greater heights, leading you to accomplish things you never imagined you were capable of. Cross the tipping point, though, and it can drive you to hold yourself to insane, unfair, and unhealthy standards.

There is a time and place for unreasonably high standards. For instance, I would demand and expect perfection from any surgeon who was about to cut me open. Here’s a monologue I love from the movie "Malice":

Jed: The question is do I have a God complex?

Man: Dr. Kessler says yes.

Jed: Which makes me wonder if this lawyer has any idea as to the kind of grades one has to receive in college to be accepted at a top medical school. If you have the vaguest clue as to how talented someone has to be to lead a surgical team. I have an M.D. from Harvard, I am board certified in cardio-thoracic medicine and trauma surgery, I have been awarded citations from seven different medical boards in New England, and I am never, ever sick at sea. So I ask you; when someone goes into that chapel and they fall on their knees and they pray to God that their wife doesn't miscarry or that their daughter doesn't bleed to death or that their mother doesn't suffer acute neural trauma from postoperative shock, who do you think they're praying to? Now, go ahead and read your Bible, Dennis, and you go to your church, and, with any luck, you might win the annual raffle, but if you're looking for God, he was in operating room number two on November 17, and he doesn't like to be second guessed. You ask me if I have a God complex. Let me tell you something: I am God.

-Alec Baldwin as Dr. Jed Hill

In general, I highly value perfectionism when it comes to one’s work because I believe “work” is the truest expression of love. (It doesn’t need words)

But the type of perfectionism that indiscriminately manifests itself throughout one’s life – that’s deadly. The kind that beats you down to the depths of cynicism, then kicks you around in your own self-doubt - that’s unnecessary, and frankly unacceptable.

Unrelenting omnipresent perfectionism, whether directed externally towards others, or internally towards oneself, does nobody any good.

It kills relationships, for one thing, when you notice every stupid little flaw, every little human imperfection.

But most importantly, it chokes your own spirit and suffocates your vitality.

As someone with a long history of severe perfectionism, I understand pretty well how debilitating it can be to constantly feel like you fall short of expectations.

It’s entirely possible to reverse an innate tendency towards perfectionism. I know because I did it.

Not only do I no longer seek the elusive and all-consuming illusion of perfection, I strongly embrace my imperfection. I see imperfection as something very human, and because of that, something very beautiful.

This shift in my perception has manifested itself in all areas of my life, from the way I relate to others, to the way I motivate myself, even to something like the way I read.

These days when I read, I (mostly, depending on the situation) stop trying to read for anal perfection, and instead read for inspiration. I read fast, efficient, and in large quantities, and I trust that if something is truly important to me, it will burn itself into my conscience for drawing upon later. The result is that I am often unable to hold “intellectual” discussions on many topics, but I am able to actively use what I do remember.

Which is fantastic by me. I’d rather own one idea to the point that I can use it in many different situations than be able to recite entire novels.

I’ve even learned to identify the feeling of imperfection, if that’s legit to say. This is somewhat hard to explain, but sometimes I’ll be walking in the street, and suddenly I’ll realize just how incomplete I am, how utterly unprepared I am for the things I want to do. And I’ve realized I actually tremendously enjoy that sensation now. It keeps my mind sharp and alert for opportunities to “remedy” my imperfections – to learn.

All this being said, I continue to struggle with perfectionism. People tell me I am incapable of relaxing. I definitely belong to the “kick-your-own-butt” school of thought, and I constantly feel I’m not doing as much as I could be doing.

Even writing the entries of this blog can be a pain in the butt for me sometimes, as I try to strike the balance b/w quality and expediency. I’m aware that there’s a certain finality that is born once you hit “Publish” on Wordpress, but I try to not to psych myself out.

With all this in mind, I’ve decided to start a series of posts on Perfectionism, of which this is the introductory post, where I will share my thoughts and stories on perfectionism.

Check back in as I continue to search for my personal sweet spot b/w perfectionism and (in)sanity.

-David

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Considerations of a Nomad

Among my friends, the joke is occasionally made that I am “homeless.”

Technically, this isn’t true – I do officially have a permanent residence, and if it were absolutely necessary, I could probably stay there for as long as I needed. But for a combination of strong personal and logistical reasons, I live a nomadic lifestyle, shuttling between friends’ places in MA, NJ, and soon NY.

I write on this topic today because being nomadic often involves being alone/lonely (2 separate but intertwined states), and because it often involves a feeling of misfit, of feeling like you’re the outsider – all of which are highly relevant to someone struggling with depression. Lastly, I write on this because it is a current issue in my life.

Living on the move definitely comes with its share of logistical difficulties. Luggage-wise, you must stay lean because there’s simply no room for excess. Commuting can be wearisome, as you battle road fatigue and what seems like dangerously too many incompetent drivers. Travel food is horrendous, but sometimes a cinnamon melt and medium OJ from McDonald’s are the only things that will keep you going. In general, I sometimes get the feeling I’m shaving years off of my life, but then I remember I’m young and therefore invincible. Well, at least for a few more years…

Really, though, none of this is all that bad. The nature of the human spirit is such that, given strong enough motivations plus sheer necessity, it will rise admirably to meet most challenges.

What is more difficult to deal with, at least for me, is the feeling that you just don’t belong anywhere.

Now, I happen to be someone who doesn’t get particularly attached to the places I live in. I grew up in a lot of different neighborhoods, and for a host of reasons, I guess I often never really even felt comfortable in my own home. Sleeping regularly on couches/futons doesn’t bother me in the slightest, and to some extent I even like them for their informality.

Really, it’s not the physical environment that affects me most. It’s something far more important.

When you live in one place for an extended period of time, that place becomes a part of you. It’s woven into so many of your memories because memory is so heavily tied to location. If you have roommates/friends you’re living with, the time you spend together day in and day out creates a common understanding between you all, an understanding that manifests itself in the conversations you share, the jokes you exchange, the language you use, the references you make, even just the way you treat each other.

It’s really in the small moments, and over an extended period of time, that you really get to know someone.

Being a nomad makes this damn near impossible. You miss so many moments, small and big (and everything in between) and you constantly get the feeling you’re just dropping in on other people’s lives for a few days, before taking off once again to do the same thing w/another group of people.

Most devastatingly of all, it makes it hard for you to be a good friend, or at least a consistent friend. And consistency really may be at the core of friendship. At the end of the day, it’s the people who you go through shit with, and who go through shit with you, that count as your friends. Being a nomad significantly precludes this. Sometimes you can feel your very sanity being threatened by a constant nagging “outsider-looking-in” feeling.

The fact is, it’s not just nomads who experience these difficulties. I imagine a LOT of people find it difficult to really connect with others, people who don’t have a strong sense of home. There’s a reason they talk of the “loneliness epidemic” these days. For instance, when I worked briefly in the ER as an EMT-B trainee, I heard stories about how some people would come in just to have someone to talk to.

To combat some of these difficulties, one thing I like to do is to try to find bits and pieces of “home” wherever I happen to be. All this takes is a bit of observation.

Let me give you an example.

A few weeks ago I was sick with a mean chronic cough. I was sitting in the Brandeis dining hall, hacking away, when Yen, the Chinese woman who mans the front desk, walked over and offered me a mint. When I declined, Yen expressed her concern for me, then offered to make me some hot water with honey.

Now, I don’t actually know if honey water is a “thing” in the US. I know people put honey in their tea, but putting honey in plain hot water is something I’ve only ever seen one other person in the US do – my father.

But people in China do it all the time, at least in my family. One way my grandmother shows affection for me is by offering me honey water, often in a tone of voice that suggests that if I don’t take it, one or the both of us will immediately drop dead (it always seems she’d be heartbroken if I were to decline).

When Yen offered me that glass of honey water, it took me home, first to my early youth, and then to China, which of all the places in the world I think of most as home.

You see how powerful memory can be, and how you can use it to find bits and pieces of home wherever you find yourself?

Ultimately, this amounts to nothing more than recognizing the universality of individual experience, and that regardless of outer trappings, we’re all pretty much the same when it comes to the basics. Even idiosyncrasies often share a common denominator.

When you really come to this conclusion and believe it, the world seems like much less of a barren place, much less hostile, much less indifferent.

And you feel less alone. Even if you’re constantly uprooting yourself and can’t let yourself develop emotional attachments to places/people.

Lastly, before I cut out, I would like to take the time to thank the guys in Ziv 129-304 for taking the risk to house me for the past few months. It’s a hell of a lot to ask to put up with a random stranger for an extended period of time, but you guys have made me feel incredibly welcome.

So Andy, Benjy, Evan, Sean, Steve, and Toly – whether or not shit goes down in the future, just know that I really appreciate, beyond words, everything you guys have done for me.

Thanks.

-David

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On Action – Checking in with your body and letting go

Check in with your body.

***

We live too much up in our heads. So check in with your body every once in a while. Here’s (one way) how:

***

When it comes to breathing exercises, every acting studio ever will (supposedly) start you out on the floor. Why? Because you don’t have to do shit when you’re on the floor, except be there. And stay awake, of course.

I recommend a beautiful hardwood floor, and white walls and ceiling to help w/the imaginative process, but it’s not really that important. Any floor will do.

Now, normally when we breathe, we breathe w/our chests, simply because it’s immediately available. Chest breath is easy to draw. But it’s shallow. That’s why you always hear that spiel (from choir directors, band teachers, etc) about breathing from the diaphragm, from the belly. You should really be able to feel your belly expand when you breathe in.

And it’s true – breathing from the diaphragm is immensely more powerful, and just plain better for you. And guess what? Babies do it naturally. (And a lot of the time they’re a lot wiser than us older people)

But to get back on track: You’re on the floor, supine (that’s back to the floor, facing upwards towards the ceiling). Now, what you’re trying to do is,

Surrender to the floor.



That’s right, surrender. Give up on trying to control everything, on trying to control your body. Release your tension. Let go.

And first, just pay attention. Try to locate spots of tension, where you feel tight and tense and anally controlling. Feel your breath moving in and through and out of your body.

Each breath that you draw from the room – that breath is yours. You own it.

Think about that.

Each breath really belongs to you. So give it a personality, in your mind. Imagine your breath as having character to it. Give it a color if you want. Do whatever you need to do accomplish this.

As you feel each breath traveling through your body, imagine it cleansing you of tension. Imagine this very specifically. Breathing from your diaphragm, feel and imagine it rising up to fill your chest cavity, all the way up to your shoulders and beyond.

As you slowly exhale, feel your breath course through each part of you body. Feel it run through individual muscles. Feel it run through your right bicep, down your right forearm, all the way to your fingertips in your right hand, and beyond. Feel it do the same for the left side of your body.

Feel it flow through your lower body. If you truly breathe from your diaphragm, you should be able to feel it in your pelvic floor. You can actually feel it in your crotch. Feel it caress your hip sockets as it passes through, softening the very bones it touches. Feel it run through your quads, your calves, your ankles, all the way to your feet. And beyond.

***

Do you see what I’m getting at? There are so many directions you can go with this, but the important thing is to find what works for you.

***

Imagine it freely. Experience it exquisitely.



Check in with your body.

Let go.



-David

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On This Blog – Update (Oscar Wilde week)

Recently a reader (shoutout to my friend Steven) commented,

“Quick question. You keep saying that you’re starting a series on X (details, acting, etc.). But you rarely explicitly ever do.”

To address this and other concerns of my own, I’d like to give you guys a brief update and share w/you some of my “behind-the-scenes” thoughts on the blog:

1 MYRIAD CATEGORIES

I’m serially starting new categories to lay the framework for the future. I won’t always have time to write longer intro posts, but I have a HUGE backlog of posts I’ve jotted down notes for w/in the existing categories, and I should be able to knock them out pretty quickly. In general, starting new categories helps me orient my thinking, so I can filter my experiences relevantly, and for the long run. This thing’s not going away anytime soon.

2 SCREW THE CATEGORIES, I DON’T LIKE THEM ALL THAT MUCH ANYWAY

That being said, while categories have their uses, I’m increasingly feeling the limitations they impose. The fact is, everyone organizes information differently based on their own life experiences and preferences, and they make connections in their mind accordingly.

3 RENEGADE POSTS

With this in mind, expect to soon see a lot of “uncategorized” posts – material that will still be relevant, but that doesn’t necessarily fit tidily under labels. And when I say relevant, I don’t mean boring. There’s going to be a lot of stuff that may be “out there” (but still relevant), simply because I love free-form thinking and drawing from disparate sources for inspiration.

Who says you need to exclusively study depression/XYZ to best understand depression/XYZ? Hell, I’d say that’s a terrible way to go about it, and a terrible way to go through life. Realize that a lot of what I’m trying to do is to get you to think more creatively, to imagine. Break free from stale thinking!

4 SHORTER POSTS – SNAPSHOTS

Very soon you won’t have to slog through my verbosity to pick up insights. Partly because of emerging time constraints, and partly because I think it’s better, soon many future posts will just be snapshots of life as I live it, and I won’t be so despotic about framing those snapshots in a certain way.

The fact is, things are complex, and I’m no authority on anything.

“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

-Oscar Wilde

So I’ll put down what I think is valuable raw material, filtered slightly through the lens of my (rapidly evolving) worldview. Then you can piece together the snapshots and draw your own conclusions. I hate dogma anyway.

5 READER RESPONSES

I owe two – I haven’t forgotten, just give me more time! Sorry!

6 READER (YOU GUYS!) INTERACTION

We’re working on it, give us a month (likely less) and it’ll be there.

7 OSCAR WILDE

I’ve chosen my first monologue for acting class from Oscar Wilde’s work. I’m utterly not suited to play Oscar Wilde, and all the authorities say it’s a bad move to choose like this, but I dig his stuff and think it’ll be a great experience for me as an actor, even if I mangle it horribly (it’s incredibly hard to find good monologues for Asians anyway). Plus, I think his forward-thinking ideas hold enormous potential for helping those who struggle with depression.

So, I’ll be immersing myself in Oscar Wilde this week, and you can pretty definitely expect to see that trickle into this blog.

And that’s what’s up for now, blog-wise.

-David

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On Details – A change of perspective (NY Penn Station)

NY Penn station can be a pretty busy place. Passing through, it’s easy to dismiss it as just a crowded train station, especially if you’re in a rush to be somewhere.

But there’s a lot more going on.

***

This past weekend, I took shelter at Penn Station for a few hours while waiting for my acting classes to start. My first move was to chill at the Tim Horton’s/Nathan’s food area, where they have seats and tables. After 2 hours of reading and writing there, they kicked me out for not having purchased anything.

Here’s something I did to pass the time that you might like to try (it doesn’t necessarily have to be at Penn Station – that’s not the point).

***

TRY sitting on the floor in “the circle” area, back leaned against one of the pillars, and just sit there and pay attention for a half hour or so.

Your perspective changes.

And because of that, you notice a lot of cool things.

First off, everything seems grander. Especially if you’re in “the circle.” There’s something about the circular walls and ceiling that already immediately impresses, and having your butt on the floor only heightens that sense of grandiosity – you notice just how high the ceiling is from the floor, and how much space there is, and how tiny you are.

Watch as people pass by. Observe the remarkable variety of commuter, of body types, of movement styles, of auras. Watch the juxtapositions between the individuals that comprise this variety. I watched a midget clutching a paper bag walk by a tall guy wheeling a suitcase – because of my angle from the ground, he appeared nearly twice as tall as her! It was weird.

Try closing your eyes in weariness. Let your other senses kick in. Listen to the footsteps go by, and to the sounds of bustle that surround you, occasionally interspersed with ETA announcements. Notice how different types of luggage wheels produce different qualities of sound – some roll more smoothly, others with a more sandy gritty grainy quality, from friction. The same for footsteps – notice different walking rhythms, and different contact sounds from different footwear.

Listen to the variety of languages, to the street language, the curses, the coughs, the sickness, the phone conversations, the shooting of the breeze between the Krispy Kreme employees at your back, the starting and stopping of blenders crushing ice at Planet Smoothies, like a dull street drill in the background. Take in the scents – occasional whiffs of cologne, or the sometimes foul odor of the homeless.

Observe the weary around you – the homeless people catching some shut-eye, or tired commuters taking a nap. Three laborers were passed out right next to me, and I noticed how they all assumed very different positions for their nap. One was on his back, legs spread eagle in a V, and head resting on a sand-colored tote bag. Another slept on his side, head (baseball cap still on) on his backpack, arms and legs carefully layered on top of one another – a much neater and tidier form of public repose. The third slept on this side too, but much more sloppily – legs tangled together, as if seeking warmth and touch from each other, and his head facing the wall, as if to block out the rest of the world.

***

It really is a whole world of it’s own, New York Penn Station.

And I’ve only described one tiny fraction of it for you today. Try describing some for yourself.

Warning: When you get up, you may get a head rush.

***

Pay attention to the world that surrounds you. Fill in the details.

Find joy in doing so.



-David

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On Education – Intro (Tutoring Sean at Calvert House)

Today I would like to share with you an important memory of mine. It’s a memory that inspired me, gave me hope, and showed me what was possible. And it’s a memory that really gets to the heart of our social venture.

***

When I was still a student at the University of Chicago, one of my extracurriculars was tutoring Chicago youth. One of the organizations I tutored with was Calvert House, the Catholic Center at UofC. Once a week, for two hours in the morning, a small group of students (including myself) would tutor a group of “less-privileged” kids, ranging from elementary school to high school students.

“My” first kid was Aaron, a 7-year-old who was addicted to wrestling, violence, and naughtiness, and had quite a limited attention span. I tried my best, but I didn’t manage to connect with him. “Tutoring” him really sort of became just “babysitting” him.

Which is fine. I think a large part of the purpose of places like Calvert House is just to provide a safe and encouraging environment, several times a week, for kids who might normally not have such an environment.

In general, I noticed that many of the tutor-tutee relationships operated this way – more like hangout buddies or “Big Brother/Big Sister” type relationships, where kindness and camaraderie were placed as top priority.

***

For a large portion of my life, I operated under the same assumptions, believing that sheer kindness was the best way to help someone. For instance, as co-captain of my high school ultimate team, I remember on “running days” when we’d run a 3-mile loop along Dempsey St, I’d sometimes run at the back of the pack, with the “stragglers,” to try to pace them and offer them kind words of encouragement.

Then one day I read The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, one of my all-time favorite books. And this quote from the chapter “Good and Evil” struck me as remarkably true:

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.

Even those who limp go not backward.

But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.

You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good,

You are only loitering and sluggard.

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.

In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.

But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.

And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.

But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?"

For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless, "What has befallen your house?"

The fact is, some people have more passion for life than others do. But everybody has some (see my earlier post On Entrepreneurship – Its health benefits).

How best to bring it out? How best to teach? To educate?

HOW BEST TO INSPIRE?

It’s not by “limp[ing] before the lame, deeming it kindness.”

Patience and kindness and camaraderie and sensitivity are essential, but they should be woven in alongside a genuine and even aggressive intention to inspire and to teach.



I believe there is no better way to inspire than by example. Show how to be strong by being strong and expecting the same.

***

One day, my kid Aaron didn’t show up for tutoring, and simultaneously another kid’s mentor didn’t show up.

So I was paired with Sean, a 7^th grader.

If I were to abstract for a moment and pretend I were a teacher w/a class full of seventh-graders, each needing individual attention, and many w/priorities other than learning (priorities I had to discourage, for the sake of classroom order), I admit, I’d probably marginalize Sean as a “lost cause.”

Sean had nearly zero confidence. He dressed awkwardly, and it always seemed his clothes didn’t fit him. His breath always smelled, and his body language spoke of deep insecurity. He could hardly unzip his pencil bag with conviction, let alone hold a conversation.

I immediately identified. I was that same kid, just a few years prior.

The point is, Sean was deeply insecure and lacked confidence – he was the kind of kid you’d be most inclined to immediately “buddy up” with and be ultra nice to.

I chose to avoid that route. Because frankly, it may be easy, and it may be nice, but it’s not very effective.

Instead, I treated him with expectation. I chose to believe in him. And I refused to accept less than what I thought he was capable of.

Looking from the outside, it may have appeared I was being too aggressive, too stubborn, and too unreasonably expecting. Alec, the senior who oversaw everything, definitely gave me some strange looks. I didn’t care (partially because I could tell he was only doing it for his resume, as evidenced by his constant discussion of said resume).

We were working on mixed fractions. I figured out a way to explain them by drawing pizza diagrams, and successively dividing slices into smaller and smaller fractions by halving them, then adding together the new slices, the freshly divided ones now representing new units, new fractions.

At one point, Sean managed to solve a fairly difficult problem on his own using the method I taught him. And I’ll never ever forget the change I saw in him, just in that one moment.

I swear, he sat up straighter in his chair, his body no longer slouched, and he gave off an entirely different vibe. It wasn’t confidence. No, it was far more nervous than that, and far more premature.

I’m fairly certain he terrified himself. I watched his hands tremble in excitement, and his speech stumble as he clumsily, but correctly, explained his logic in solving the problem.

What was it?

It was his recognition of his own potential.

Seeing the concrete evidence with his own eyes – his ability to solve that problem on his own – fundamentally changed him.

I have no idea how Sean is doing today, and I’m not naïve enough to think that one session, with one small success, will turn a life around.

But it might.



And if you keep at it, with the same mentality of belief and expectation and guidance from the teacher, coupled with belief and discipline and hard work from the student, and over an extended period of time, I think it’s likely.

I believe it is these moments of inspiration, of recognition of one’s own potential – one’s own genius – that should be the primary aim of all education.



Not the memorization of facts and theories that can be used to impress and woo at interviews or cocktail dinner parties.

***

Did I contradict Khalil Gibran by pushing Sean? NO.

The fact is, I pushed him, but I pushed him at his level.

I was doing basic algebra in the 5^th grade. He was doing basic fractions in the 7^th grade.  It doesn’t fucking matter.

I saw potential in Sean, and I saw in him a willingness to embrace that potential. So I encouraged it. Aggressively.

I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, partly because I don’t have time, and partly because some people are so utterly closed-minded it would take forever to help them. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’d be hard as hell.

Furthermore, it’s not my business to help people. Not unless they want to be helped. For that reason, most often I try to withhold judgment on people I don’t have a good reason to judge. In fact, the people I judge most, and most harshly, are usually the people I care about most, because I know my friends can take my critiques in the right spirit.

The thing about our social venture – we hope to target a very specific subset of people who struggle with depression: college students who know they are depressed, who want to get better, and who are willing to take action to do so.

These are the people I admire, whom I identify with, and whom I want to help unleash their potential.

***

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

***

In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.

***

Embrace your longing for your giant self, and be bold in doing so.

Learn.

-David

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