Personal

Answering Step Two: Or, How to Beat the Underpants Gnomes at Their Own Game

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In the second season of South Park, the boys uncover a colony of underpants-stealing gnomes. The gnomes have a purpose for their nefarious deeds — profit. They even have a three-step business plan. Step One: Steal underpants. Step Two: ?  Step Three: Profit!

So far, so good. A nice little satire about the business world, yes?  How many enterprises start with some sort of asinine idea (say, build a mobile app that does something 37 other mobile apps already do, but differentiate by using “creatif misspellingz” in the app name), and then … profit! Somehow. Err … Umm. Yeah.

But funny thing about those underpants gnomes: Like all good satire, there’s a hidden truth behind the laugh track. In this case, I think the secret is that people are either really good at generating ideas, or at profiting off the ideas of others, but there aren’t that many people who are good at moving something from concept to execution.

Lately I’ve been on a “life as project management” kick (have to put that CPHQ certification to use at some point!). Having taken the week between the holidays as vacation, I’ve enjoyed the spare time to get caught up on a bunch of mundane things like laundry and cleaning — but I’ve also invested considerable effort into figuring out, relative to my goals list, how to get from idea to outcome with maximum efficiency.  Long-time blog readers know that I undertook the “idea” phase seriously in late 2007. Prior to that, I drifted in the wind. After that, I had a game plan, a series of goals and attitudes and bucket-list wishes that I intended to guide subsequent decision-making. And I even identified my personal version of the “profit” phase: Being content at what I saw, when I looked at myself and my life’s history on the morning of my 70th birthday.

But darned if I didn’t have a big red question mark in the middle.

Oh, sure. I had an idea that certain goals required certain things to occur in a defined sequence. One of my goals, for example, is to earn my divemaster certification. I am currently open-water certified. To get to divemaster, I’d need to get certified for advanced open water and rescue diving. Then log  a minimum of 40 dives to meet eligibility requirements for the divemaster program. But did I ever put those things on a calendar or in my budget?  The total cost of getting eligible to earn that divemaster c-card will probably run between $2,500 and $3,000, factoring in the cost of the two major large courses, the cost of air for dives, and all the equipment I’d need. (And don’t get me started on the professional training costs … I think it’s running more than $1,000 these days.)

Again: For a long time, there was just a big red question mark between “I want to be a divemaster” and “Yay, I’m a divemaster.”

And the story repeats for so many other parts of my bucket list. And the thing is, the items on my lifelong goal list aren’t even that unreasonable. The things I want to do in the short term are eminently doable. I’ve just spent so much time defining the concept and clarifying “what done looks like” that I never really said, “Hey, idiot. Are you actually going to make progress on any of these things, or just tweak your goal list year after year?”

So the last few days, I’ve been plotting the execution. I’ve looked at all of the things I want to accomplish in 2012, what the material costs are, what the reasonable timing may be, and then slotting everything on a monthly calendar. Much of it has been guided by a consistent project-management methodology: Identifying scopes and exclusions, setting key dates, budgeting, linking dependencies, noting potential constraints.

The great thing about this exercise is that it provides a sense of purpose, a feeling that one’s actions are leading to a significant conclusion even if any given tasks seem boring in the moment. It also helps to level-set expectations. If I want to get everything in the “Jason 2012” project accomplished as planned, I’m looking at a total cash requirement of between $25,000 and $27,500 and a wrap-up date of September 30. I’ve separated everything into blocks, so that routine living expenses (food, utilities, rent, etc.) are wholly covered by my hospital income, so the costs of my goals require a totally separate source of funding. Like, you know, my business.

Having thus identified the financial resources, I can then back into what I’d need in terms of client development, projects, etc. Suddenly, that $25k doesn’t look so daunting. It’s just roughly $3k per month between now and September. Just $100 per day. I can do that.

And scheduling. Instead of saying, “I’d like to do X in 2012, or Y by 2020” I’ve moved into breaking down complex goals into logical milestones and then scheduling those milestones for a specific month. So, with the divemaster goal — pick up essential diver gear (BCD, regulator, octo, gauge) in February; pick up wetsuit and remaining accessories in March; sign up for advanced training in April; schedule rescue diving training in June; log 40 total dives by Labor Day. At which point, I can enroll in the divemaster program and work through it in September.

And so on, and so on, for a dozen different goals. Heck, I’ve got one item on my task list with a due date in late 2016.

This planning carries within the seeds of implication, though. It means that every day, I need to be focused on the future. It means I need a defined set of tasks that I perform each day, and a mechanism for tracking detailed tasks on an ongoing basis. It means that coming home and thinking, “Hmm. I guess I’ll just veg out on the couch or play Star Wars: The Old Republic for hours” must become a thing of the past. Thanks to a subscription to Office365, I can use the power of Exchange and SharePoint and OneNote to keep all my devices in sync using the right tools for the job.

This story has a moral beyond public peacocking, though. To wit:

The first stage of self-actualization is thinking seriously about who you are and who you aspire to be, removing the pernicious influence of others and understanding the you that most of us keep hidden even from ourselves; done right, it takes months or years — not just an afternoon spent with a pot of coffee and a notebook. The second stage consists in identifying clear life goals — with a solid expectation of what it takes to say you’ve achieved them. Come back to them every few months for a year or so until you know in your heart as well as your head that you really want to make it happen. The third stage is moving from planning to execution, to put away excuses and endless tinkering and simply begin. The fourth stage is, having been successful, you mentor others in the art of success.

In short … we need to beat the underpants gnomes at their own game. A little project management for your life can help.

Personal, Writing, Editing & Journalism

Past, Present, Future

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Feels like I’ve been living my own little version of A Christmas Carol lately. To wit:

Past. Last weekend I took the scenic route home. Drove through eastern Ottawa County, and passed by the haunts of my childhood — the beautiful river views from Lamont, the rolling farmland in Marne, the dirt roads on the periphery of northwest Grand Rapids. Cruised by the three houses in which I lived in as a child (the two on Lincoln, and one at Leonard and 14th). Interesting to see what’s changed, and what has stayed the same. Prompted fond memories of my youth, but also a reflection on what “home” means; I’ve lived in five different places in the last five years, and eight places in the last 15. That’s a lot of impermanence. Although I’m delighted with my current abode, it’s hard to find a place that feels like “home” when you move around a lot, even when you move around the same metro area.

Present. In the process of moving some task-oriented stuff from OneNote to Outlook (hooray for the new Office365 subscription, and the tight integration across desktop/laptop/WP7 devices), I noticed that I’ve made substantially more progress on some of my goals than I expected. This makes me happy. The major “hard work” part remaining is the challenge from Tony, to be prepared to appear in public in a swimsuit for the water park experience during his birthday celebration in June. Last time I was shirtless in public was, oh, September 2008, when Andrew and I decided to spend the day lazing around at Oval Beach. I have the lead time to get into the kind of physical shape I’d prefer for such an excursion. Fun part will be thinking through the upper-body program. I’ve always had a slender chest/shoulder/arm profile (when not covered in blubber) so I’m thinking that a weightlifting program may be in my future. On the bright side, the June trip provides ample opportunity to prepare.

Future. As I continue to work through my novel, it occurred to me that although it’s hard work, chunking out the aspects of novel-writing into into a series of discrete steps, with deadlines, helps to sort through the work. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to “win” NaNoWriMo this year, but I’ve learned a heck of a lot already about how to write a novel, and if I can get this MS done by the end of the year, I think I could be in good shape … to write more novels. If I could find an agent — yay. If not, I’m enjoying the craft of writing, and I think that Duane’s model of putting them up on Amazon will work, too. He gets monthly royalty checks that somtimes cross into the triple digits for some of his old, early novels.

Personal

Six Strategies

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As part of my normal life planning work, I try to keep a few concepts top of mind. Over the years I’ve honed the list, tweaking ideas and words, but a few enduring maxims represent the principles by which I try to make the long-term decisions that will govern my personal growth. My current six strategies include:

  1. Reduce consumption.  The drive to possess material things exposes a hollow core that too often people try to fill with objects — it’s better to spend your energy and resources acquiring experiences and ideas that will endure for a lifetime, than on trinkets or status symbols that will soon be discarded. Eat less, purchase less, indulge less — and thereby develop the asset base to leverage better and more lasting things in the future.
  2. Cultivate serenity. Don’t get trapped in the drama of today. Keep a calm center, remain dispassionate about the things that don’t matter, and never let the bastards create turmoil within.
  3. Nurture relationships.  Our social networks not only define us, but they give us access to resources of different types that we would not otherwise possess on our own. Keep a tight inner circle and a wide net of acquaintances — but curate them carefully. Cut off relationships that are negative, and maintain the ones that are good. Be a friend when a friend is needed, and accept help when you’re the one in need.
  4. Exhibit insatiable curiosity. Always ask why. Seek out new ideas, new people, new experiences. Try new things and be bold about pushing your limits.
  5. Do few things, but do them well.  Jacks of all trades are masters of none. Find one or two things in which you can excel, and focus on those; don’t be such a polymath that you achieve mediocrity in a wide range of things but demonstrate mastery over nothing.
  6. Favor action over study.  Active and conscious life planning makes a person the master of his fate instead of a victim of it, but too much planning opens the door to analysis paralysis. It’s easy to keep kicking big things down the road, telling yourself you need to keep thinking about it, but the key to a truly self-directed life is to do and not merely think. Develop a bias for doing.

Personal, Philosophy

Five Strategies

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“Life is a journey.” This trite, overused metaphor — a staple of self-help literature and pseudo-intellectual motivation bloviation — suggests that the essential ingredient to living a happy and fulfilled life is to set goals and then work to achieve them. Tidy and linear.

Great idea, in the abstract, but too simplistic to be useful.

The journey metaphor assumes a few important premises. Most of the folks using it recognize that you need to identify your point of origin as well as your planned destination. You can’t make it to Miami if you don’t know whether you’re presently in Duluth or Las Cruces, for example. The motivational encouragement is therefore predictable: Set goals, and then reflect on where you’re at, so you can create a roadmap for success.

My problem with this approach is that it lacks a mechanism for stopping to smell the roses. Even if you figure out you’re in Duluth and really do want to make it to Miami, the “journey” metaphor and its associated tips and tricks makes precious little room for scenic detours. In fact, according to some self-appointed self-help gurus, the detours are considered failures.

Make no mistake: Reflection and goal-setting remain significant parts of any successful person’s toolkit. But something else is needed — a set of strategies about how to live a fulfilled life that empower people to know when, where, how, why, and if a detour is worth the effort.

For myself, I’ve set five strategies. These were borne from months of reflection and represent concepts that strongly resonate with me — who I am, and who I aspire to be. Each person ought to set his own strategies, to serve as the traffic rules to govern life’s journey.

My strategies include:

  1. Cultivate serenity. Inner turmoil and social drama: the Scylla and Charybdis of emotional maturity. Oh, how seductive the lure of interpersonal drama. A codependent friend, a co-worker with a bad attitude, family dysfunction — these sirens sing to us, lulling us into a cesspool of negative emotion that is damned difficult to escape. It takes a lot of work to remain serene when the world seems to be going to hell around you, but it can be done. Medieval monks nurtured a discipline of “spiritual indifference,” which allowed them to observe and be engaged with those around them while remaining indifferent to the tumult within. It’s an attitude that requires a person to keep his empathy and remain connected to others, yet understanding the importance of maintaining an emotional firewall.
  2. Reduce consumption. Whether it’s too many calories or too much alcohol or too-frequent shopping trips, consumption can rob a person of his resources and vitality. In all things, ask the question: Is this necessary? Do I need it? Why do I want it? The goal isn’t necessarily to live like an ascetic, but rather to ensure that consumption of any kind is necessary and appropriate.
  3. Nurture relationships. Without others, we lack context. Everyone needs a network of people, provided that they are the right people. Surround yourself with people who can do things for you, and who will allow you to do things for them. Avoid the incessantly negative, the narcissistic and the emotionally immature. Connect with people of substance, and keep the relationship alive. Find at least five people you could call at 3 a.m. and know they’d respond without hesitation or reservation, and more importantly — be that person for others.
  4. Exhibit insatiable curiosity. Never stop asking why. Never stop learning. Never stop welcoming new experiences, new friends, new adventures. The person who turns his back on a child-like curiosity about the world and the people within it, loses an essential piece of his humanity.
  5. Do few things, but do them well. People who know me best know that I’m a jack of all trades but master of none. An ocean’s worth of breadth, and a puddle’s worth of depth. My grandfather had a saying: “Anything worth doing, is worth doing right.” That phrase was both inspiration and rebuke.  It’s easy to get caught up in master planning, developing a sequence of events, activities and goals that would yield a modern-day Renaissance Man, if only a person had time to do it between all the planning and reflecting. Breadth has its value; a wide perspective allows a person to see the world from different angles, informed by different ideas. Yet depth is important, too; someone who has never really struggled for mastery is, in some sense, locked into perpetual adolescence. Perhaps the solution is to do a few things, but do them well. Be broad, but find a few very important subjects or hard goals and master them.

These strategies govern my decision-making process. The allow me to evaluate whether a deviation or change of plan is good, bad or indifferent. They help foster virtues, attitudes and behaviors that make me a better person irrespective of my pursuit of individual goals.

What are your strategies?

Personal

Pursuing Greatness

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Nothing like a kick in the teeth to start the morning off right.

So there I was, minding my own business, browsing the periodicals rack at Barnes & Noble, when suddenly — my eyes fell upon the cover of a magazine, the dominant image upon which was Zac Sunderland [blog], a 17-year-old from California who recently made the news for his attempt to break the world’s record for the youngest solo cirumnavigation by sail.

A few things about Sunderland’s story jumped out at me:

  1. Kudos to this intrepid young man for pursuing his dream.
  2. Double kudos for his masterful handling of the media about this trip — the magazine cover had Sunderland smiling, in classic boy-next-door fashion, wearing a T-shirt that said: “I sailed around the world solo and all I got was this lousy magazine cover.”
  3. What stops the rest of us from acting similarly?

I vividly recall my grandfather’s sunset dreams of travel and exploration, and how they were cut short by a chronic illness.  I remember listening to all the aspirations of friends and family and watching them slowly shrivel and die under the combined weight of inaction and oppressive family expectations and artificial norms of what is “appropriate” behavior.

But what stops us?  What demon taunts us with the prospect of greatness while simultaneously blocking us from achieving it? 

I know a lot of dreamers who can’t translate their hopes into reality.  And I know people who could execute the most byzantine of plans but who aspire to little more than a comfortable mediocrity.  Too few of us seem blessed with both dreams and talents, and that reflection prompts a degree of sadness.

For myself, I have been feeling of late that I have been walking on the thin edge of a very sharp blade.  My dreams grow ever sharper, but I wait.  There is a dynamic tension between wanting to cast aside all convention and obligation and plunge full-steam into the life I’ve crafted for myself on paper, against conceding that prudence demands a more cautious course of withdrawal and entrenchment.

The last few days have been interesting.  I had dinner Friday with Charlie and Cara, and went to Festival with Tim and his friends Duane, Joey, and Chuck.  All the while, the itch to leap into action continued to grow.  Perhaps I need to spend more time with Tony to build GCG strong enough to actually transition out of the hospital.  Perhaps I need to take Emilie’s advice and just take a week hiking in the solitude of the forest.  Or perhaps I need to heed my mother’s warning that it’s time “build equity.” 

Perhaps.  Perhaps.

But I do know this — Sunderland’s cover felt like a slap in the face. Whether it’s the slap of reproach or the slap of motivation remains to be seen.