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Tag: do the work (page 1 of 2)

Appreciation Post: Gosford Park

I love the movie Gosford Park.

Let me tell you why.

  1. It’s a beautiful movie. I must confess to loving the “upstairs/downstairs” aesthetic, but this movie is just beyond. The clothes are gorgeous without being costumey. The camera meanders through scenes and lingers over little details. Light and shadow actually matter.
  2. The cast is brilliant. Charles Dance is an absolute treasure.
  3. It showcases the reality of upstairs/downstairs. While it seems like writer Julian Fellowes has dedicated his life to smearing the British aristocracy, it’s striking to me how many parallels exist between the “upstairs” folks in 1932 and the “director” folks in 2019. There’s a huge gulf between the people at the top who put their names on things and the people downstairs who do the work. In the words of Detective Stephen Fry: “I’m not interested in the servants; only people with a connection with the dead man.”
  4. It’s subtle. Nothing is explained—it is shown. (Until the murder is solved at the end, of course. Then we get a few explanations.) This is one of those movies that I can watch multiple times and find something new each time. Some people hate this type of movie. I am not those people.
  5. The accents are lovely. /Hi, I’m American
  6. It’s a good reminder of just how little justice is done on this earth. Much of the time, the authorities don’t really care. People can be counted on to act in their own best interests, and true selflessness is rare.
  7. Slow-burn melancholy romance is the best kind of romance.
  8. It’s delightfully planned out, but executed quite naturally. Like how there are not one, but two sets of mis-matched couples—where if they paired up and swapped spouses everyone would have been a whole lot happier. So much duality, but since it’s never explained, you have to work it all out for yourself.
  9. It’s not often that I find fictional characters that I identify with. Mary Maceachran is one of those characters.
  10. Helen Mirren’s speech on the gift of anticipation speaks to my soul.

What gift do you think a good servant has that separates them from the others? Its the gift of anticipation. And I’m a good servant; I’m better than good, I’m the best; I’m the perfect servant. I know when they’ll be hungry, and the food is ready. I know when they’ll be tired, and the bed is turned down. I know it before they know it themselves.

And that’s it, really. It’s a movie that requires attention from the viewer—a puzzle that extends beyond the murder mystery.

Image of the Week: Tag yourself I’m an Old Millennial

Some weeks you just need a laff.

At first I thought this meme was just shitposting and silliness. Then I looked closer.

 

Ah yes, pogs.

I will never forget the time that my brother and his friend challenged each other to a six-pack-of-Surge challenge during a Superbowl. (I think they made it to four.) Or the framed Pikachu card I have in my kitchen (yes I’m serious), gifted to me by my brother after he moved on from dominating the Pokemon card came.

Personally, I had a—briefly—a collection of pogs.

My brother is Core Gen Y (he’s younger than me).

I’m Early Gen Y.

I’ve never loved thinking of myself as a Millennial, but I’ve come to terms with it. As a generation, they’re too whiny and short-sighted (at least as described by Boomers) to be something that I wanted to identify myself with. Birth years don’t lie, and no matter how much I hate thinking about myself in that way, my life trajectory is quite Millennial.

The best descriptor I’ve found for myself is “Old Millennial.” There was a time in my life when I didn’t know what the internet was, and I became an adult without owning a cell phone. Most of my childhood was spent reading books or running around in the woods or at ballet class. Growing up, our household was wired—my dad loves computers and we had a lot of PC games—but my first encounter with high-speed internet or AOL messaging was in college. My folks still had dial-up well into my undergraduate days (I would connect to open wifi when I was home for breaks, otherwise my blossoming internet habit tied up the phone line for hours).

Anyway.

I love how memes can convey such depth of truth with such brevity. The best memes refine a complex concept or set of symbols to a very fine point, presented in such an unrefined manner that they demand that your mind do the work of assembling the pieces back together.

That’s why they’re so sticky. The meme only sets the stage.

You still have to do the work.

 

Alternative Education (an unofficial list)

There’s a movement in higher ed about the “alt ac,” to help promote nonacademic careers to the PhD candidates who will listen before they hit the tenure-track job market and learn how bad their job prospects really are. It’s a runaway truck ramp for the implicit promises that the current faculty make to their trainees (while simultaneously saying “one only pursues a PhD out of passion, not out of hopes for a job afterward”).

I wised up to that game.

What I’m interested in is alternative education, “alt ed.” The boundless cradle of information that is the internet has birthed many different alternatives to the “traditional” American educational structure. As someone who sees first-hand every single day into the depths of the scam that is the modern university system, I’m interested in encouraging this sort of thing.

To do that, I’m going to start documenting interesting companies, orgs, and non-profits that I find. This is not a vetted list of trusted places to get an education. I have no idea if any of things are actually good. I’m just compiling a list.

Experience Institute

“Experience is for everyone. And we believe learning through experience leads to better work, better careers, and better lives.”

It’s very much cathedral-approved, but seems to have good intentions. The Casey Neistat of education?

Runchero University

Kevin Runner made a bunch of money correcting addresses in Banner (that’s the software that 75% of universities run on). Now he’s building a university with a “commitment to environmental sustainability, agricultural innovation and a healthy, thriving local community.” 

It’s a little hipstery, but I’m listening.

Colleges that don’t take federal money

MIT OpenCourseWare

You can get an entire education from MIT online for free. Proving that you know all the stuff is, of course, a little more difficult BUT if your goal is to learn, get at it.

MOOCs

 

TO BE CONTINUED

Why I decided to get serious about my health

A friend of mine recently asked me to write a distilled version of my journey to health (boy that sounds hokey). My health journey. The long and arduous road that I took to finally not being at the mercy of any random doctor.

Also know as one of the best things I’ve done with my life.

I figured I’d try out a version here. We’ve talked enough about my recent health developments that you could use some backstory.

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when I was six years old. That’s not very old, in the scheme of things, especially when you consider that most people are diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when they are more like 18 years old.

This doesn’t sound like a problem, but it does complicate things. For one, there are fewer pediatric gastroenterologists who know anything about small children with the disease. And two, there are a lot fewer resources from which to learn anything, especially if you’re a parent whose child now has an uncurable disease.

And what does one do when thrust into this situation? One listens to the doctor, of course. And really, why shouldn’t you? They’ve been trained to handle this, they have mountains of evidence and papers on their side, and they have An Answer held out to you on a silver platter.

This particular answer was Prednisone. I was prescribed a 60 mg dose of Prednisone as a six year old child. 60mg!! I was prescribed 90 mg when I had pneumonia as an ADULT. Can you imagine what that does to a child? Reader, I hallucinated. Practically crawled out of my skin.

Perhaps that has something to do with my utter disinterest in psychedelic drugs as an adult.

Anyway, my parents and I muddled our way through my childhood and early teen years. We saw specialists at the children’s hospital, consulted dietitians, went to Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation of America-sponsored seminars, but I ended up “graduating” from my pediatric gastroenterologist to an adult gastro at age 13.

That was the immunosuppressant era. My immune system would be suppressed for the next 16 years. I took my first imuran at 13 and did my last Remicade at 29, so…yeah. That’s a long time to be without an immune system.

For the record, I don’t recommend it.

However, getting immune suppressed allowed me to finish high school like a normal person and go on to college without worry about my health all the time. I could get away with eating like trash, so I did. My last year, I’m pretty sure 75% of my diet consisted of Cheez-its and chocolate that were smuggled into the computer lab.

In grad school, though, I had this feeling that something would have to change. I was tired of getting IV infusions all the time, and of being worried about insurance costs. It got worse when I graduated and started supporting myself—wiping out my entire savings to cover one infusion before the subsidy kicked in, taking the first job I was offered because it had stellar employer-sponsored coverage.

Insurance wasn’t what made me change my life, but it definitely provided incentive.

At one point, when I was doing a new consult with a naturopath, I told him that it was my goal to get off of Remicade, the IV immunosuppressant I was on at the time. And then it just slipped out: I wanted to get off insurance, too.

“Oh, no, that’ll never happen,” the doctor said. (He wasn’t my doctor for very long, tbh.)

Frankly, what I meant was that I didn’t want to be dependent on insurance, or owned by insurance. I wanted to get to a place where I could survive without insurance if I had to. At that point, it seemed like a complete impossibility. I stopped thinking about it.

What I did think about was my diet. I tried all sorts of approaches: the Specific Carbohydrate Diet, IgG/IgE allergen testing with a rotational diet, paleo (sometimes with the 80/20 stipulation), paleo autoimmune, low-FODMAP, and eventually all of them put together.

Doing work on my diet meant that I needed some expert help, which is why I had started seeing naturopaths. I started to research more than just diet, and strongly suspected I had Small Intestine Bacterial Overgrowth (SIBO). When my normal gastroenterologist just shrugged off my questions, I basically walked away from the MDs straight into the arms of the NDs.

From there, I tackled SIBO head on and started the (painful) process of ridding myself of 16 years’ worth of built-up bacteria. It was not a fun couple of years, but that work had to be done.

I quit all but one of my prescription drugs, and lived a normal life for a while.

But let me tell you something about bacteria colonies—they don’t like to die. They will craftily devise plans to NOT DIE. So you must fight them, aggressively.

Somewhere in the middle of trying the keto diet, almost completely losing control of my bowels, and still struggling to rid myself of bacteria, I learned that it was okay to only eat meat.

I cannot describe to you the depths of RELIEF that I felt those first few weeks as a pure carnivore.

No more angst about vegetables—which to eat and how to prepare them, and how much fiber is enough, and if I try this new thing how might my body react and in what proximity to a toilet do I have to hover for the next several hours?—all of that, gone.

Carnivory was not the 100% answer. I did not magically heal overnight.

I’m still healing, still having less-than-stellar bowel movements, still struggling with bacteria.

But my eczema has decreased to almost nil. I have control over my bowels again. When I’m rested, and not stressed, things almost return to normal. I have the confidence to live my life, and I know that things are heading in the right direction. I can feel it in my bones, and in the energy I have that I’ve never had before.

There are still things I’m tweaking. I need to learn how to reduce my overall stress levels and sleep more. Not everything is diet.

My health is not perfect yet, but I’m finally in a place where I don’t worry about insurance. I don’t have to. All my treatments are food or they’re completely free.

I have achieved that impossible goal.

The Cycle

Zerohedge posted this for an entirely different reason, but I like this:

But, as we will see: platforms evolve from an iterative cycle of apps=>infrastructure=>apps=>infrastructure and are rarely built in an outside vacuum.

First, apps inspire infrastructure. Then that infrastructure enables new apps.

What we see in the sequence of events of major platform shifts is that first there is a breakout app, and then that breakout app inspires a phase where we build infrastructure that makes it easier to build similar apps, and infrastructure that allows the broad consumer adoption of those apps. […]

For example, light bulbs (the app) were invented before there was an electric grid (the infrastructure). You don’t need the electric grid to have light bulbs. But to have the broad consumer adoption of light bulbs, you do need the electric grid, so the breakout app that is the light bulb came first in 1879, and then was followed by the electric grid starting 1882. (The USV team book club is now reading The Last Days Of Night about the invention of the light bulb).

Another example: Planes (the app) were invented before there were airports (the infrastructure). You don’t need airports to have planes. But to have the broad consumer adoption of planes, you do need airports, so the breakout app that is an airplane came first in 1903, and inspired a phase where people built airlines in 1919, airports in 1928 and air traffic control in 1930 only after there were planes.

It doesn’t just apply to apps or inventions. This is how change itself occurs, especially change that we initiate from inside of ourselves rather than the types of change that are imposed on us from the outside.

For example, when I was in middle school, I had bad acne. To alleviate it, my mother tried to get me to wash my face every night. I wasn’t interested (no need for infrastructure, in my mind) even when she offered me a “reward” of getting to wear mascara if I washed my face every night.

When I got older, I followed a different track. It makes sense to me that if you wear makeup, you must remove it at the end of the day. On days that I wore mascara or other makeup, I would be forced, in a sense, to wash my face. That led to better skin, which helped the makeup look better, and thus a somewhat virtuous cycle was born.

The nature of this cycle is what makes it so difficult to get started for those of us who like to plan things out, and to see systems.

We want to be able to see the infrastructure before we start, to plan out how the systems will work and estimate the time it will take out of our lives to run.

But that’s not how it actually works. First, you have to DO something—build the app or wear the mascara—before you can even hope to build an infrastructure to support it. This is a weird catch-22 situation, but there’s really no way around it.

You could try catapulting directly into the infrastructure phase without actually developing an apps, but much like trying to write about data that you haven’t analyzed yourself, you’re not going to squeeze a nuance analysis out of it, or create a robust and complex-yet-simple (antifragile?) infrastructure around any problem.

Come to think of it, the lack of “app” or proof-of-concept is why the armchair pundits of the world cause so much more harm than good. They want to skip directly to the infrastructure part without doing any of the work to create something in the first place.

I like systems. They’re fun to analyze (in theory) and refine (in practice). It’s easy to get caught up in the hypotheticals and the undergirding by which things work.

Sometimes I forget that you actually have to DO something to get things started.

First mascara, then skincare, then the glam transformation.

One of those days

It’s always hard to go back to real life after “one of those days.”

Or if we want to get really twisty about it, I always seem to have “one of those days” after having “one of those days.”

Or if we want to get concrete but cryptic, I really should add “being outside” to my list of my ideal work environment. Not doing outdoor work, per se, but just being outside. A porch is fine, no need to get fancy about it.

What really happened is this: over the weekend my car broke down while I was on a trip for the weekend. As such, I couldn’t get back to work on Monday, but instead spent a bunch of time cleaning said car and arranging for repairs and talking with my brother about various things. The weather just so happened to be freeking gorgeous, as well, so I spent some quality time in the sunshine.

After days like these, days when I can taste freedom, coming back to reality oops there goes gravity* is absolutely excruciating.

Workplace politics. Beige boxes. Pointless meetings. Staring at a computer screen all day, and a computer screen that has to be somewhat professional which means that photos of k-pop groups or stupid memes are OUT as desktop backgrounds and even an Edward Gorey illustration is probably verging on too edgy.

I want to do work with the option of going outside, with the option of wearing shorts, with the option of blasting music as loud as I want to.

This is motivation. This is what I want to run toward, and leave the office life behind. This is where I want to steer my life, toward sunlight and freedom and the terrible arbitrary choices that we must make in the world when we aren’t beholden to a cultural superstructure.

Those days remind me how much I don’t get out of these days. I am capable of more and I will do more.

We’ve all heard that story a million times, but the good thing about stories is that they never run out and everybody’s got one.

 


*I really shouldn’t quote Eminem in the current year but sometimes I can’t help myself.

Needlepoint is meditation AND instant gratification

I’ve gotten back into needlepoint lately. Counted cross-stitch, to be precise.

It’s great on multiple levels.

Creativity

Even using a pre-planned design, working on a needlepoint project involves creating something that has never existed in the universe before. There is something primally satisfying about the act of creation.

This time around, I’m developing the design myself. I have an idea, and I’m planning out sections as I go. I picked the colors that I wanted (shades of coral and moss green, my favorites, with a tiny glimmer of yellow). Some of the specific patterns and fonts I’m stealing from other sources, but the overall plan is mine. I’m greatly enjoying the anticipation of seeing the execution of a design I’ve conceived.

Problem-Solving

Needlepoint projects are a mini-lesson in logistics. Do I start from the right or from the left? Do I do one stitch at a time, or go through the row one way and then back the other way? Letters first, or decorations? So many questions to answer.

I’m not a needlepoint expert, so I can’t give you answers to those questions.

But I can tell you that working on a project like this is a tiny way to stretch your brain in the arena of planning and execution. You know where you want the project to end up, and then you have to make all of the medium- and ground-level decisions to get to that end point.

Most needlepoint projects can’t be done in one sitting, so it’s also an object-lesson on working on a project bit by bit until it’s finished.

You can take this knowledge and extrapolate it to other areas of life.

Instant Gratification

While it sounds like the complete opposite of the long-term benefits, the thing that I like the most about needlepoint is the instant gratification. Every stitch that you finish is there, stitched into the fabric, for you to admire. That stitch, and all the stitches surrounding it, have changed the texture of the fabric forever. You can feel the difference if you run your finger across the stitches.

And that happens every single time you work on the project.

With other types of long-term projects, you don’t always get the satisfaction of a job well done until the very end. Cooking can be like that, and definitely event planning is like that. But with needlepoint, there are pretty things to look at (even if it’s just the colors!) at every step on the way.

Meditation

I like the idea of meditation, but I’m not huge on the traditional practice of it. Experience has shown me that it’s valuable to stop thinking (in words) for a period of time, but I feel that it’s more important to shift the mode of thinking than it is to stop thinking altogether.

When I take a ballet class, I can’t focus on anything else. When I play music or focus on a drawing, my thinking shifts into those ways of thinking and all my verbal worries evaporate.

Same thing with needlepoint.

When you’re focused on creation, you’re not focused on yourself or what’s wrong with the world. Better for all involved.

In Conclusion

Consider trying out needlepoint. It’s fun, satisfying, and therapeutic.

General inflammation vs. localized inflammation

Generalized inflammation is useless. Usually, pain provides enough useful information to be worth the trouble, but non-localized stress is exactly the opposite. It masks problems. Because it’s not specific, it doesn’t tell you anything useful about what is wrong or what might be causing the stress. It bogs down normal inflammation, and because it makes systems less efficient, causes much more work for the rest of the body.

Localized, acute inflammation — on the other hand — is a fantastic tool. It can lead you to what is wrong, and indicates that your body is working hard on that problem. Localized inflammation is your friend.

Life is kind of like that, too. Lots of low-level, incomprehensible stress is muy no bueno. You can never get a foothold in solving problems of that magnitude.

Specific issues, however, are much easier to identify, parse, and solve one step at a time. This approach is much more painful, and rarely fun, but it’s way more effective in the long run.

It all has to come to a head.

If you have to make a pro/con list you’re trying too hard

After months of looking and weeks of trying, I found an apartment today. One that I have the option to sign for 6 months, even though I’d be willing to go for a full year.

I sign the lease tomorrow.

How long did it take me to make that decision? About 10 minutes.

All the other places that I looked at are listed on a whiteboard in my Airbnb, pro-and-con’d within an inch of their lives.

This one has a great interior but the rent is really expensive. That one has the space that I’m looking for but the front window looks into the recycling center. This other one has a gas stove and beautiful light fixtures, but let’s be honest, it’s way more space than I need or could use.

If I narrowed the decision, and made it “that apartment versus keep looking for apartments,” the latter won every time.

None were the apartment that I wanted.

The decision to pick any of the was difficult.

Then I found “the one” (even though I don’t believe in “the one”).

Sure, this new one has an event center next door with unknown levels of partying, and a view that’s pretty terrible, and a busy street outside, but it had every other major thing I was looking for, plus a certain charm of its own. The kind of alchemy that reflects the “soul” of a space.

This decision? Easy.

Maybe it was the byproduct of having looked at so many options that I knew what was out there, what was worth jumping on, and what is realistically in my price range.

Maybe it was choice fatigue (but I doubt it).

Maybe this landlord was especially persuasive (he wasn’t).

This place was clearly the best.

The moral of this story is that pro/con lists are only useful when you have to make decisions between a bunch of sub-optimal choices.

When there’s one clear winner, you know it.

Don’t lie to yourself.

Go for it.

 

When you just dive in

There’s a benefit that comes from simply diving into the work.

(With a direction in mind, of course.)

When you don’t take time to assess, to pro and con and analyze the situation to death a million times over, when you just focus and start doing, one task at a time at a time at a time until it’s all finished, there’s a beautiful clarity of purpose and synergy.

This time tomorrow, I’ll be living in a new state. A new life.

I’ll also probably break down into exhausted tears,
but that’s to be expected.

For now, I’m just doing the work.

We move, and the world moves with us.

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