Humility is lovely and oftentimes lacking in this world

I've been performing onstage for more than five years and producing shows for more than three, and here is something that has become abundantly clear to me:

Humility is a quality to be prized, and it is sadly lacking in many.

As a performer, I oftentimes find myself listening to fellow storytellers lament the ineptitude of the judges at a story slam or the stupidity of producers who refuse to cast them in their shows.

As a producer, I find myself reading emails from storytellers who think it necessary to explain their enormous degree of talent and accomplishment and sometimes even insist on being cast in one of our shows based solely upon that talent. 

None of this makes any sense to me. None of it makes me ever want to cast these storytellers in my show, even if they are truly talented and accomplished. I never do.  

I am not suggesting that there is a problem with possessing confidence or even assertiveness. But when you lack humility, three things become abundantly clear to me:

1. You will be difficult to work with. Your willingness to accept criticism and collaborate will be seriously compromised by the size of your ego and the certainty of your talent.   

2. Your lack of humility demonstrates a fundamental disrespect for your fellow performers. When you complain that the judges were ineffective or wrong, you denigrate the rest of the storytellers competing in a slam and imply that the winner was undeserving. When you argue that the producer of a show should've cast you, you disrespect the storytellers who were chosen instead of you. 

There is nothing wrong with thinking that you should have won. There is nothing wrong with confiding with your closest friend that you should've been cast in the show. But announcing your perceived slight to the world demonstrates a fundamental lack of humility that only causes people to distance themselves from you and never want to work with you again. 

3. Anyone who needs to compliment themselves repeatedly and publicly - absent of any irony or humor - possesses the thinnest of skins and will invariably be an unpleasant and difficult person to work with.

Here's a rule to teach my fifth graders that would serve many adults in this world (including our President-elect) well:

Compliment others. Allow others to compliment you.

It sounds like common sense, but for many, it is almost impossible. 

My agent once told me that she would turn down a project from a writer if she felt that the person would be difficult to work with, even if she knew the project would be profitable. I thought she was a little nuts at the time, but now I understand completely.

Give me an inexperienced, hard working, receptive storyteller willing to accept feedback and looking to improve over any naturally gifted or experienced storyteller who can't stop blustering about his or her talent or what he or she deserves.

Put stuff on the Internet and watch what happens

You should write. 

Regardless of your self-perceived skill or experience, you should absolutely write stuff and stick it on the Internet. This is what I have been doing for more than a decade. Every single day since 2005 - without exception, I have posted a thought or an idea or an observation to the Internet in the form of a blog post.

Many remarkable things have happened as a result of this.

• I am quite certain that it has made me a better writer.
• It has connected me with people from all over the world.
• I have made friends as a result of my writing.
• It has created an archive of my life and my thoughts that I reference constantly and with great zeal. 
• I have been offered jobs and landed writing gigs as a result of my writing.

My blog posts were also excerpted, misquoted, and presented out of context by a lunatic or a small group of lunatics in attempt to destroy my life and the lives of others, but that was a unicorn. An "impossible-to-believe of act of insanity" in the words of one attorney. A one-in-a-million disaster that could only happen to me. 

It also resulted in a Moth story that won me a GrandSLAM championship and ended up being heard on the Moth Radio Hour by millions of Americans. Listeners reach out to me all the time about the story. It's become a story that the victims of hate-mongering, prejudice, and cowardly anonymous attacks listen to for solace, hope, and inspiration.

So it wasn't all bad. 

Then there are the bizarre, the unexpected, and the unbelievable things that have happened as a result of writing stiuff and sticking it on the Internet.

Here are just a few:

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post advising Hillary Clinton to take certain strategic steps in her next two debates with Donald Trump. That post made it into the hands of a senior staffer on the Clinton campaign and was passed around. I don't know if Clinton herself read it, but I like to pretend that she did. 

I have yet to be offered a speech writing job, but I haven't given up hope. 
________________________________________

In June of 2010, a wrote a post about the Blackstone Valley sniper. When I was a child, a pair of men spent almost two years firing bullets into windows in my hometown and the adjacent towns, forcing us to turn out our lights at night and crawl under the picture window as we passed through the living room. We lived in fear for a long time. There was a total of eleven shootings from 1986-1987 (in addition to acts of arson and burglaries), and though no one was killed, four people were wounded in the attacks. 

The two men guilty of the shootings were sentenced to prison in 1989 and were released on probation in 2008. 

Five years after writing that post, the girlfriend of one of the shooters saw the post and wrote to me, complaining about my disparaging remarks about her boyfriend, who was turning his life around. 

It was an interesting exchange of ideas.  

________________________________________

In April of 2011, I wrote about my desire to become a professional best man. I declared myself ready and able if anyone needed my services.

Since I wrote that post, four grooms and one bride have attempted to hire me (scheduling prevented those bookings from happening), and a fifth groom actually hired me for his wedding but cancelled later on. 

I've also been contacted by three different reality television producers about the possibility of doing a show in which I would be a professional best man at a series of weddings. None of these shows came to fruition.

In 2015, comedian Kevin hart wrote to me upon the release of his film The Wedding Ringer, in which he plays a professional best man. He acknowledged that it was my idea first. 

________________________________________

In 2012, I wrote about my desire to find my first library book. I recalled a few details about the book - the color of the cover and a few details about the plot - but nothing terribly specific. 

Two years later a reader correctly identified the book. It now sits on my bookshelf. 

________________________________________

Earlier this month, I wrote about Mrs. Carroll, the woman who taught me how to tie my shoes in kindergarten.

One day later, I was informed that she is 94 years old and still going strong.

By the end of that day, I had been given her home address by a reader. I sent her a letter last week telling her how much she meant to me and how I think about her every time I tie my shoes.

I'm waiting to hear back. 

Why should I experience unnecessary minor pain? Because I choose not to be soft.

In a piece entitled Pain Is Silly! Be Prepared With Your Own Mini-Pharmacy, Slate's Mark Joseph Stern writes:

“I live in the 21st century. Why should I have to experience minor pain? The miraculous pharmaceutical developments of our age have created a treatment for virtually every ache and malady. The vagaries of our regulatory system allow us to purchase many of these treatments in bulk, over the counter, for very little money. There is no good reason to leave the house without a cure for what might ail you in a few hours. And that is why I carry around a portable mini-pharmacy with me everywhere I go—and you should, too.

Everyone scoffs at the mini-pharmacy, which comprises one full pocket of a raggedy old backpack I tote around all day, as it clatters audibly up and down. I have everything in there, but the focus is on painkillers for headaches. Have you ever stoically suffered through a headache? That’s stupid. You should never do that. And if we were friends, you’d never have to. If you and I are ever in the same room, I will happily provide whichever pills you require.”

Why should you have to experience minor pain?

How about this:

 The world is getting soft. Too soft. Also overmedicated. Overindulged. Coddled.  

I attended college full time, earning two degrees simultaneously at two separate universities while serving as the Treasurer of the Student Senate, President of the National Honor Society, and columnist for the school newspaper. I did all this while managing a McDonald's restaurant full-time, working in the school's writing center part-time, and launching a small business that is still operating today.

Minor pain? Give me a break.

And I certainly wasn't the only one I knew who was doing everything possible in order to excel. 

I had friends who worked two and even three minimum wage jobs in order to avoid living at home with their parents. I had friends who joined the military and fought in Operation Desert Storm for the sole purpose of paying for their college education. I had friends living three and four and five in a single bedroom apartment to make rent. My best friend graduated from Bryant University (with honors) with a degree in computer science and then took jobs as an assistant manager at a department store and an overnight cleaner at a fast food restaurant for almost a year until he finally landed a job in his chosen field. 

These were not men and women who worried about minor pain. These were not soft people. These were not folks prone to medication in order to relieve a sore back, a wrenched knee, or a stubbed toe. These were individuals who stepped over pain and suffering and sacrifice like it was a meaningless, insignificant nuisance in order to make their dreams come true.

I like Mark Joseph Stern. I read his work in Slate quite often. I listen to him when he appears on their podcasts. He's an excellent writer and an interesting thinker. 

But I am not a fan of this piece, nor am I a fan of his idea of carrying a mini-pharmacy wherever you go or medicating every minor pain you experience. 

In Stern's own words, neither is anyone else.

Ironically, I'm a person who believes in being prepared for almost everything. My years in Boy Scouts drilled this habit into me. The trunk of my car contains a first aid kit, blankets, and an extra set of clothes. My backpack has office supplies that I will probably never use. I stock every type of battery in my home at all times. I have 20 gallons of water stored in my basement in case of an emergency. 

But in a world where children are now wrapped in bubble wrap and treated like China dolls, where playground surfaces are made of rubber and the idea of turning off a cell phone for the duration of a movie is unthinkable, and where young people would prefer to live at home rather than work long hours at terrible jobs for terrible pay, a little bit of minor pain strikes me as something that we could use a little more of in this world. 

There's a lot to be said in favor of toughness. Grit. Tenacity. Relentlessness. Resilience. Physical, mental, and emotional fortitude. The acceptance of struggle and hardship and pain on the road to success.   

There is no room for mini-pharmacies on that road.

Grin and bear it. Accept a little minor pain every now and then. You'll be the better for it. 

Complimenting an item of clothing is the lowest form of compliment

I love the message that this cartoon conveys, but I just wish it wasn't all about the hat.

Complimenting an item of clothing is the lowest form of compliment, which is why it's so easily applied to strangers. 

If you don't know the person, it's easy to comment on their relatively irrelevant exterior since their interior is oftentimes impenetrable, especially when time is limited.  

Still, I avoid this lazy form of compliment at all costs. Having vowed to never make a negative comment about a person's appearance ever again, I've slowly begun avoiding comments on physical appearance altogether. In fact, with the exception of my wife and children, I have managed to avoid any comment on physical appearance - positive or negative - for more than two months.

This does not mean that I have forgone complimenting people. I simply look for things that actually matter, which for me is what a person says or does. 

That's it. This is what I choose to care about and choose to focus on. 

My podcast host, Rachel, recently cut off a bazillion inches of hair off her head. Not only did I not notice the change (which was admittedly a little bizarre), but I had to explain to her that even if I had noticed the change, I probably would've said nothing about it because I don't care about her hair at all.

Not one bit.  

So yes, we all have the power to brighten someone's day with a well placed compliment, and I utilize this power whenever I can, usually in the form of a hand written note, a well timed email, or a public proclamation of achievement. Last week, for example, I complimented a camp counselor on her expertise with my students, but I waited until her boss was standing alongside us to do so. 

Timing is everything.

Compliments are great. I love to offer them and love to receive them. I encourage you to compliment me often. I just believe in making compliments as meaningful as possible.

A hat just doesn't do it for me. 

The bravest

One of the most quoted lines from Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend is this:

“You have to be the bravest person in the world to go out every day, being yourself when no one likes who you are.” 

I'm so glad that so many readers have become attached to this sentences, because it is one of the things I think and feel most deeply about in this world. When asked to describe a central theme throughout all my books, I first explain that I don't think in terms of themes but in terms of story. 

I want to write an entertaining story. Any themes that emerge from that story are welcomed but often not initially intended.

However, when pressed, I will admit that I am attracted to characters on the fringes of society. People who dare to be exactly who they are despite their exclusion from mainstream society as a result. I like to write about people who are brave enough to be who they are when much of the world would laugh at or reject them for being themselves.

These are the bravest and most noble of all people in my mind.

To that end, I give you the washing machine enthusiasts featured on CBS Sunday Morning. Men who collect, admire, and obsess over washing machines. These are men who love to watch these machines at work.

They are easy to laugh at and dismiss but deserve to be honored for their willingness to be exactly who they are in such a public way.  

I admire the hell out of these men.

Five year plans are about five years too long

I played golf last month with a guy who is works in the corporate world. He’s got a degree in math and an MBA, but he also has a newborn son at home and wants to find a way to spend more time with his family. He’s fed up with the corporate culture and has done well enough to make a career change without having to worry about finances for a while.   

Teaching, he has decided, is the way to go. Once he discovered that I was a teacher, he immediately began asking me question after question about the profession, including the fastest way to earn a teaching certificate. I explained the ARC program to him, a three month process by which college graduates can become teachers in specific areas of need throughout the state, including math. 

“You could start the program in June and be teaching in September,” I said. “One of my best friends did exactly that. He left the corporate world in June and was teaching math in Hartford in September.”

The man was enthusiastic about the process and asked about a dozen follow-up questions as we walked the course together. With each step, his enthusiasm seemed to increase. As we made our final putts of the afternoon and headed back to the clubhouse, he thanked me for the information. He said, “That program sounds great. It’s still a little pie in the sky for me, but I think it’ll make it part of my five year plan.”

Five year plan? Really? 1,825 days to achieve a goal? 

I don’t understand people who talk about five year plans. A lot can happen in five years. Thinking that you can plan that far ahead is crazy. 

Five years ago, I was a writer who had published what appeared to be his last novel. I had written a third novel entitled Chicken Shack that no one wanted. For a struggling mid-list novelist, this universal rejection from the publishing industry often signals the end of a writing career.

My agent said, "You just need to write your best novel ever and relaunch your career."

"Oh? Is that all?" I said. 

I thought I was doomed. Instead, I did what she told me to do. I wrote my most successful book to date. An international bestseller published in more than 20 countries. A Dolly Gray Award winner, a Target book club pick, and a Nutmeg Award nominee.

But tell me five years ago that any of that would happen and I would've thought you were nuts. Writing my "best novel ever" was not part of my five year plan. I didn't think it was even possible. 

In fact, five years ago, I could count the number of countries where my novels had been published on one hand. Now I'd need five hands to keep count.   

Five years ago, none of my books had been optioned for film. I had yet to write a screenplay and didn't even know how. 

Five years ago, I had just finished writing a rock opera that I never thought I'd see staged in a theater. I was certain that my playwriting career was over. A brief experiment into a new genre that would never leave the page. 

Instead, our rock opera was performed by a cast of professional actors for a weekend run at a local theater, and I've gone on to write three other musicals. I've watched all three performed onstage, and I've actually made a tiny bit of money off the work. 

None of this was a part of any five year plan. 

Five years ago, I had yet to write a comic book. I had yet to land my job as a humor columnist. Neither of these things was even a blip on my radar. 

Five years ago, I had told one story on one stage at one Moth StorySLAM. If you had told me that I was going to win 20 StorySLAMs and 4 GrandSLAMS in the next five years, I would've told you that you were insane. Had you told me that I would perform in front of hundreds and sometimes thousands of people at a time around the country, I would've had you committed.

None of this was a part of my five year plan.  

Five years ago I had yet to teach storytelling to a single person. Teaching storytelling at places like Yale or Kripalu or the University of Connecticut or Purdue University was unimaginable. Conducting storytelling workshops for school districts, rabbinical schools, second generation survivors of the Holocaust, summer camps, writers, performers, screenwriters, and grandparents who can't get their grandchildren to listen to them would've been unthinkable. Traveling to Brazil to tell stories and teach students, teachers, and business leaders would've seemed ludicrous. 

Five years ago our storytelling organization Speak Up did not exist. We had yet to produce a single show. Had you told me that we'd be selling out venues as large as 500 seats more than a dozen times a year, I would've thought that you needed professional help. 

A lot can change in five years.  

Instead of a five year plan, how about a six month plan? Or a three month plan? In five years, this guy’s son will be entering kindergarten. He may have more children, planned or otherwise. His company could declare bankruptcy. The United States could be at war with Canada.

Five years is a long time. If this man is serious about wanting to make a change in his life, spend more time with his family, and find a way to make a difference in the world, why wait five years?  Having an intimate and personal understanding as to how short life can be, I wanted to tell this guy to ditch the stupid five year plan, go home, and sign up for the damn program.         

I didn’t. In the end, this guy seemed too invested in this five year plan to deter him with my few nuggets of wisdom, but I am left wondering where he will be in five years.

Will he be the teacher that he wants to be?

Will he be spending more time with his family?

Will he have escaped the corporate culture that he so despises?

Who knows? It’s five years away!

But I can guarantee that none of these things will come to pass in this year or the next. That’s the thing about a five year plan. It allows you to do nothing for a very long time.

24 life lessons for my children (and perhaps for you)

1. A small amount of your paycheck should go directly to a savings account every month.
2. You can determine the size of a person's intellect by the size of things that bother him.
3. Find your passion and figure out how to get paid for it.
4. Giving up or selling out on your passion equates to surrendering your happiness.
5. Be happy for the good fortune of others.
6. You can judge the quality of a person's character by the way they treat their pets. 
7. The first one to get angry loses.
8. Love as much as possible before settling on a spouse or life partner.
9. Become an expert on forgiveness. This is often done best by becoming less selfish and dramatic about your own life and thinking about others. 
10. Learn to play chess, poker, and setback.
11. You have no business criticizing people who are utilizing public assistance if your parents have filled that same role for you with bailouts, loans, college tuition, employment, and/or cash subsidies for vacations, automobiles, and mortgage downpayments. Your public assistance is merely familial and you did nothing to earn it.
12. Always be reading a book, regardless of how slowly you may be reading it.      
13. Do not expect anyone to be impressed by the university you attended or the degree earned. Real achievement is determined by what you do after you leave school. 
14. Everyone finds confidence sexy, so be confident. If you're not confident, fake it until you become confident.
15. Talking about your dreams without taking any action is uninspiring and sad. Even microscopic steps in the right direction are impressive. Just be moving forward.  
16. Do what needs to be done without complaining.
17. Salary is the last thing to consider when accepting a promotion or changing jobs. Available time for family, friends, and hobbies and your day-to-day happiness while on the job should always be considered first and foremost. Exchanging money for happiness is always stupid.
18. Tell the stories of your most embarrassing moments and greatest failures. Allow others to speak about your greatest achievements. 
19. Know the Peter principle and understand well how it may apply to you. 
20. Be known as someone who can keep a secret and be trusted with confidential information.
21. When you find a pair of underwear that you like, purchase it in bulk. Discard all other subpar underwear. Comfort on an undergarment-level should not be underestimated.
22. Be familiar with at least three Shakespearean plays. 
23. Drink as little alcohol as possible. This does not mean that you can't drink a lot in certain circumstances, but drink as little of a lot as possible in these circumstances. 
24. Do whatever you want to do in the life, but try to be the very best at it.

Advice from a mentor from 21 years ago that I continues to guide my life today

I keep a running list of the most impressive, impactful mentors in my life. These are people who have helped me in a significant and meaningful way and have impressed the hell out of me while doing it. 

Simply put, they are some of the best people I have known.

My plan is to write a book about these people and the lessons that they have taught me. 

The list currently stands at eight:

• My former Scoutmaster, Donald Pollock
• Former sixth grade math teacher Mrs. Shultz
• Former high school French teacher Lester Maroney
• Former English professor Pat Sullivan
• Former English professor Jackie LeBlanc
• Former McDonald's manager Jalloul Montacer
• Former teaching colleague Donna Gosk
• Former principal Plato Karafelis

In searching for photos for a book proposal, I came across a note from Jalloul that he wrote to me in November of 1995, just before leaving the Hartford restaurant that I was managing while attending Trinity College. He offers a piece of advice that I thought worth sharing:

“The secret to success is being more energy-oriented than goal-oriented - seeing life in terms of constant progress and not pre-established ends.”

— Jalloul Monatcer

This may seem like the antithesis of someone like me who sets goals, publishes them online, and charts their progress monthly, but not true. I often achieve only about 60% of my goals in a given year and am comfortable with that degree of failure.

My goals remind me of my direction, but it is relentless, unending progress that I seek to achieve.

Jalloul taught me many important lessons. All of the people on my list did. Perhaps some day I will tell those stories.

Perhaps a near-death experience is a good thing. At least one therapist seems to think so.

A mental health therapist recently said this in a comment to a post on the blog:

"I frequently try to bring on an existential crisis in a client to help them find what is most important to them."

I thought this comment was fascinating. 

I've often said that my alarmingly frequent near-brushes with death drive me (at least in part) to succeed, and that without my death by bee sting, death by car accident, and near-death by robbery, I may have never accomplished the things I have. 

I've spoken about this many times, including a TEDx Talk last year:

Perhaps I needed those near-death experiences. Starting out as a kid who had to leave home at 18 and ending up in jail, homeless, and facing trial for a crime didn't commit didn't make things easy. Maybe I needed as much help as I could get, even if it came in the form of several close calls. I'm not sure if I would wish these experiences on anyone, but maybe a head-on collision with a Mercedes, an undetected allergy to a bee sting, and a violent assault and robbery were just what I needed in order to keep me focused and working hard.

I've often wondered about this. As a life coach, I've once worked with a person who knew another near-death survivor, and he said that the two of us were remarkably alike. In fact, he told me that he often wished that he would suffer a near-death experience, too, because he said that we were the two most driven people he had ever met.

I explained to him that these brushes with death came with a cost, including a lifetime of post traumatic stress disorder, but he seemed to believe that this was a small price to pay for a lifetime of productivity, tenacity, and success. 

Maybe he's right. 

It's impossible to determine exactly why one person succeeds in life while another does not, but I know that when I was a boy, I wanted to be a teacher and a writer, and for a long time, both of those dreams seemed impossible to me and to everyone around me. The idea that I might find my way to college, graduate, become a teacher, and publish novels was something most people would've considered a fantasy. 

Today they are a reality.  

Perhaps this therapist is doing something brilliant. By bringing her clients to an existential crisis, she is helping them understand how short and fragile life can be and perhaps instilling in them the same fear of lost opportunities and regret that I have.

And I suspect that she's not holding a gun to their head and pulling the trigger or sending them through a windshield in order to do so. 

Up until now, the best I could do is tell my story and implore people to heed my advice:

Say Yes.
Live Life Like You Are 100 Years Old.
Complete your Homework for Life.

Maybe there's a better way. Maybe you, too, could experience the kind of existential crisis that I have, and like me, maybe it will change your life. 

I'd love to know how she brings about these existential crises in her clients, and I suspect that my former life coaching student would as well. 

The Portland 54: Embrace uncertainty

On Friday I had the honor of playing in The Portland 54, an annual golf tournament that has been played for the last 17 years. It was started by a group of guys at ESPN who wondered if it was possible to play all three 18 hole golf courses in Portland, CT in a single day. 

Turns out it is. All three courses are less than three minutes apart.

Play the first 18 holes at Portland West at 5:00 AM.

Play the next 18 at Portland Golf at 9:30.

Play the final 18 at Quarry Ridge at 3:30. 

The scores from the first two rounds of golf determine the teams for the final 18 holes, which are played as a scramble. The winning team in the scramble is declared champion and takes possession of the trophy for a year. The trophy was purchased from eBay and dates back to the early 1900's. It was originally a trophy for a women's contest of some kind. It is old and a little ugly and glorious.

Winners traditionally drink Rolling Rock from the cup at the end of the tournament. 

I was able to play because every year, one rookie is added to the roster of 16, and this year I was the lucky one chosen. I didn't know anyone in the tournament, but the commissioner is a Speak Up fan and regularly attends our shows. He found out - maybe through this blog - that I was a golfer.

When I received the invitation, some of my friends advised against playing in the tournament, for several reasons.

• 54 holes of golf in a single day is insane.
• I didn't know a single person playing, which meant I'd be spending at least 15 hours in the company of strangers. 
• This could be a scam. I might end up dead.

In the end, I took the advice of a friend who said that I had to play, for several reasons:

1. It's golf. As bad as it can get, it's still better than most things.
2. It's an opportunity to meet new people and make new friends. 
3. Guys who are able to get together like this for almost two decades can't be that bad.

All of this turned out to be true.

The golf was great. I started to lose my mind (and my swing) during holes 13-16 of the second round of 18, but I powered through and finished strong.  

I met some fantastic people. The commissioner of the league might be the best golfer I've ever played with. I also played with his son, his son-in-law, and a cast of other characters.

I met a guy who is a ball hawk, diving into the woods whenever possible to find lost balls. He probably found three or four dozen balls over the course of the day.  

I met a guy who holds his club with a reverse grip, which looks incredibly painful but is surprisingly effective. 

I watched two guys putt by looking at the hole instead of the ball.

I played with funny guys, serious golfers, quiet guys, and everything in between. 

My day was not without incident. Over the course of the three rounds, I managed to bounce my ball off a rock outcropping and land it on the green for a birdie. I hit two rakes - both which sent my ball back into the trap. I hit several cart paths. Many trees. One golf cart. I ate a bug and had a bug land directly in my eye. I lost a ball on a fairway.    

Of the 16 players, my score ranked 13th. I shot an 87 on a par 60 and a 109 on a par 72.  

Not good scores, but this is the summer that I change my swing. I am hitting the ball better but also decidedly less consistent. 

Sadly, lightning interrupted our final round, so The Portland 54 ended up as The Portland 47 for me. Happily, we will be returning to the course later this summer to complete the final 18, so I'll have a chance to see the guys again and play some more golf.

I know people who would have passed on an opportunity like this.

• 54 holes of golf might have seemed like too much.
• Surrendering an entire day to a golf tournament might have been hard.
• Playing with 15 strangers might have been unnerving for some, especially if they play like me.

Mostly, it's uncertainty that prevents us from trying new things. The unknown is scary. Taking risks is frightening. Daring to do what seems a little crazy is something people tend to avoid. The inability to perceive the future and accept the consequences of uncertainty traps so many of us in the present. We fail to move forward. Our lives remain static. 

I have learned to embrace uncertainly. Accept possible failure. Say yes when opportunities arise. I'm not entirely sure why, but I suspect that two near-death experiences, a violent armed robbery, and near imprisonment have taught me to do everything I can while I still have breath. 

As a result, I end up standing on stages around the world. Launching seemingly nonsensical businesses with my friends. Meeting new, remarkable people. Trying new things.

Playing 47 holes of golf with 15 great guys. 

I am a happier person for it.   

This is the most inaccurate description of marriage I have ever read. I hope it does not describe your marriage.

On this week's This American Life, philosopher and author Alain de Botton describes marriage this way:

“Be incredibly forgiving for the weird behavior that’s going to start coming out. You will be very unhappy in lots of ways. Your partner will fail to understand you.

If you’re understood in maybe, I don’t know, 60% of your soul by your partner, that’s fantastic. Don’t expect that it’s going to be 100%. Of course you will be lonely.

You will often be in despair. You will sometimes think it’s the worst decision in your life. That’s fine. That’s not a sign your marriage has gone wrong.

It’s a sign that it’s normal, it’s on track. And many of the hopes that took you into the marriage will have to die in order for the marriage to continue. Some of the headiness and expectations will have to die.”

— Alain De Botton

Host Ira Glass says this "one of the most accurate description of marriage" he's ever heard.

This is nonsense. Complete nonsense. It need not to be this way. 

Elysha and I will be celebrating ten years of marriage next month.
There has been no despair.
No unhappiness.
No doubt.
None of our hopes and dreams and expectations have died. 

We have only added new hopes and dreams to our list.

Marry the best person you know. Do things together. Find new things to do together. Be honest. Don't ever be selfish. 

Ignore the words of Alain de Botton.  

The cough - not the sneeze - deserves the blessing.

A person often sneezes simply because a bit of dust has tickled their nasal passages. Or they suffer from an allergy to pollen or something similar.

Or if you're like me, you sneeze when you eat a Tic-Tac or an Altoid.

We rarely sneeze due to illness or impending illness, and yet the standard response to a sneeze is to say, "God bless you" or simply "Bless you." We respond as if something bad has happened or is happening when this is rarely the case. 

I'm aware of why we offer a blessing following a sneeze, but still, it's kind of stupid. Right? And since the practice is hundreds of years old when human beings did not understand germ theory, maybe we can dispense with the practice altogether.

Since it's stupid.  

I try to avoid saying "God bless you" or even "Bless you" whenever possible, simply because it assumes a religious belief that may or may not be present. 

On Seinfeld, Jerry replaces "God bless you" with "You're so good looking," which is slightly better but also applies a physical attraction that might not be present.

Sneezes simply do not require a blessing of any kind. 

A cough, on the other hand, is oftentimes a sign of trouble.

It could signal the beginnings of a cold or the flu. The person might be choking on a bit of steak, a grape, or a Lego piece. He may have swallowed of a bug.  

Yet a person can hack out half a lung, turn blue in the face, and become physically incapacitated while coughing, and we don't offer a blessing of any kind. 

It makes no sense. If we're going to continue to offer a blessing to loved ones and complete strangers every time they make an involuntary outburst, can't we at least shift that blessing over to where it's actually needed?

Let us ignore the sneeze and bless the cough. Let's give it the attention it deserves. 

Staging your home for sale is stupid and self-destructive. Kind of like lipstick. We must end the insanity.

My friends are selling their home. Moving away. It's miserable.

As a result, they are in the process of showing their home to would-be buyers, and part of that process is staging the home. Flowers on tables. Real and/or plastic fruit in bowls. Flowers on a side table. A second set of towels to replace the used ones in the bathrooms. 

And of course counters and desktops are cleared, toys are hidden away, a tablecloth is added to their kitchen table. Flower beds are maniacally weeded. The grass is cut to perfection. 

And my friends are only doing the minimum. Many staging guides online suggest hundreds of other tactics, often costing thousands of dollars. There are now companies that will stage your home for you, rearranging your furniture to make the house look bigger and adding furniture, lamps, vases, and other items from vast warehouses of home goods.

All of this in the service of making the home look more attractive to would-be buyers.

Here's the thing:

We all know that these houses are being staged. We know that the lack of clutter and clusters of fruit and flowers are not real. We know that bath towels are never as fresh as they appear in a home for sale. We know that children rarely make their beds. We know that paper-free desktops and dish-free drying racks are only found in the homes of the most compulsive people. We know that flower beds without weeds and refrigerators without magnets are unrealistic. 

And yet we allow this farce to continue. Sellers continue to present unrealistic and false projections of their homes, and buyers agree to continue to allow these fabrications to influence their purchasing decisions. 

I have an idea:

Let's just all agree to stop spending money on creating these falsehoods and instead agree to look at hones that appear like real homes. Absent of bowls of fruit. Complete with damp bath towels and cluttered countertops. Littered with Legos. Why don't we all agree to look at homes that look like real homes and not catalog-versions of homes that do not exist in real life?

Sellers will save money and perhaps pass these savings onto buyers. Buyers will get a true sense of what the house looks like when people actually live inside it. And ridiculous staging companies will stop stealing our hard-earned dollars to provide temporary lamps and momentary love seats to our already furnished homes.  

Staging a home is kind of like wearing lipstick.

We all know that you're wearing lipstick.
We all know that your lips aren't actually that shade of red.
We all know that you painted your mouth in hopes of making it look prettier. 
You're not fooling anyone. 

Staging is the same thing. When we walk into a staged home, we all know that it's a lie. We all know that the fruit and fresh bath towels are nonsense. 

If both parties are aware of the con, end the con.

The likelihood that your gossip and behind-the-back cruelty will be exposed, expressed in percentages

If you say something despicable or underhanded behind the back of a family member, there is a 85% chance that your words will find their way into the ears of that family member.

If you say something despicable or underhanded behind the back of a colleague, there is a 75% chance that your words will find their way into the ears of that colleague.

If you say something despicable or underhanded behind the back of a friend, there is a 50% chance that your words will find their way into the ears of your friend.

If your despicable and underhanded comments were made to more than one person, add 2% per person to each of these percentages.

If your despicable and underhanded comments were sent via text or email, add 5% to each of these percentages.

Despite these highly accurate percentages, there is a 95% chance that you don't believe these percentages pertain to you when they most assuredly do.

When you say terrible things behind the backs of others, they find out what you said far more often than you think. Human beings are gossip machines. It is one of the reasons that we survived as a species. We are wired to exchange information as often of possible, in order to increase status, gain trust, trade for new information, solicit advice, and unburden ourselves of difficult-to-keep secrets.  

May I suggest a simple means of avoiding any of this:

Stop speaking negatively about people behind their backs. Be direct. Understand that passive-aggressive, behind-the-back commentary is cowardly, disgusting and never as private as you might think.

Be calm.

A small suggestion:

Try to be a calming influence on the world. 

There are already enough people in the world doing the opposite. Constantly asserting how harried, all consuming, and fast paced our world is. How stressful modern life can be. How there is never enough time. Always too much work. Far too many responsibilities. 

I do not discount their feelings. Nor do I discount the realities that propagate and perpetuate these feelings.  

Still, my advice: Try not to be that person. Or try to be less of that person. 

I don't try to argue with the chronically busy and perpetually overwhelmed. I don't ask them to take stock in all they have. I don't list the all the modern conveniences, medical advancements, and technological developments that prior generations would have yearned to possess. I don't remind them that there have been far more frightening and darker days in our country's history, and they we are so fortunate to be living through a time of relative peace and prosperity in comparison to so many that came before us. I don't ask them to count their blessings.  

I simply present myself as a calm, relaxed, confident individual whenever possible. I am too keenly aware of how incredibly fortunate I am. 

And when I hear someone lamenting about how busy or overwhelmed they are or asserting how busy and overwhelmed others seem to be, I often say something life:

"Aren't we lucky that we're able to be so busy? Can you imagine how miserable life must be for those who are bored? For those who have nothing to do? For people who hate their jobs or don't feel like they are making a difference in this world? Or even worse, imagine how hard it must be for the people who can't find a job? Or those who are too ill or disabled to do what they want to do? Being busy is a privilege. It's a privilege to have a life so full and eventful." 

I don't know if this helps, but I think it sometimes does. When I tell someone that I'm never too busy to lend an ear or a hand, I often see them relax a little. When I tell them how privileged I feel to be as busy as I am, I often see them slow down a bit. That crazed look in their eyes diminishes. Sometimes they even smile.

Try it. Try to be a zone of calm and relaxation in this otherwise harried, all consuming world. 

Instead of saying that "teachers are overwhelmed" (something I hear a lot), instead say, "Teachers are so fortunate to work with kids everyday and change lives."

Instead of saying that "technology has turned life into a 24 hour work day," tell people about the joy of being able to see and speak to the faces of your nephew and niece from across the country with the simple press of a button. 

Instead of telling people how time consuming parenting can be, tell a story about a moment when your children filled your heart with more joy than you thought was humanly possible. Or the way your three year old son say Star Whores instead of Star Wars.

Instead of telling someone how busy you are, tell them how lucky you are to be so busy that the television hasn't been turned on in five days. 

This isn't to say that I don't feel busy or harried or overwhelmed at times. This isn't to say that the pace of life can't be tough for me to maintain at times. I just choose not to talk about it much. It's already been said. It's being said around me all the time. I choose instead to focus on the good fortune that I have today and all the blessings of my life. 

Then I talk about these blessings to the busy, crazed, overwhelmed people around me. I try to be a calm, confident point of perspective in their life. I try to be the eye of the storm. They place they can go for some peaceful and quiet.

Try it. Try to be the calm one. The one who isn't too busy or overwhelmed.

Start by talking a good game, and perhaps soon, you will believe it, too. 

I have discovered what women look for in a man

I spent a portion of Saturday night in the company of Elysha and some of her lady friends. They were discussing what their single straight girlfriends should look for in men. 

I just sat and listened.

Men, based upon this conversation, here is what women want:

A responsible man with modest or better career prospects who possesses better than average intelligence and has "an edge." Also, you should not be living with your parents or other family members.

This last part struck me as fairly obvious, but perhaps not so much in today's world.

"An edge" appears to mean "not boring." You need to have personal interests outside your career and family. You must possess strong opinions or feelings on things that matter to you. You should bring the promise of new frontiers and new possibilities to the relationship.   

Things that apparently matter little to women:

• Physical appearance
• Prior marital status
• Golf handicap
• Trust funds
• Arrest record
• Wardrobe
• Musical preferences
• Familial safety nets
• Performance in bed
• The college or university that you attended
• The car that you drive

The worst person in the world

There are many terrible people in the world.

Gossips. Cowards, Bigots. Fanatics. Cheaters. 

The lazy. The dishonest. The passive-aggressive. The violent. 

New York Jets fans.
Men who wear Gucci basketball sneakers.
People who shout out at live performances when the name of their hometown or college is mentioned by the speaker. 
Right-wing Republicans who worship Ronald Reagan while refusing to acknowledge his record on immigration, taxation, government spending, and compromise.

But I've always felt like there is one quality above all others that is the worst, and oftentimes the most dangerous:

The large, fragile ego.

A large ego can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on how the possessor of that ego wields it. But either way, a large ego isn't inherently terrible or especially dangerous. 

A fragile ego is certainly the best thing in the world, but if it's not oversized, it's often only limiting to its possessor.

But the large, fragile ego is a terrible and dangerous thing, particularly when the person possessing the large, fragile ego is in a position of power. These are the men and women (but mostly men) who think highly of themselves but are unable to endure criticism of any kind. These are the egomaniacs who also desperately need to be loved. Adored. Cherished. Admired. 

This is a terrible and dangerous combination.
These are the people who ultimately prove to be vindictive. Vengeful. Unpredictable.

They are administrators and managers and politicians and bosses who will love you one day and hate you the next simply based upon the tenor of your support. They are the leaders who shift their position with public opinion as often as the wind. They are the ones who often ask (or require) others to publicly support their decisions even while knowing full well that these subordinates do not. They are managers incapable of doing their own dirty work. They are administrators who prey on the weak and promote the most frightened, agreeable, or easily swayed individuals. 

I think of them as over-inflated balloons. Handle the enormity of the stretched rubber the wrong way and it will pop. 

They are also terrible and dangerous because of their prevalence. They exist in frightening large numbers. I have known many of these cretins over the course of my life, and I'm sure you have as well.

Worst of all, there's no fixing them as far as I can tell. They are eternally despicable. Forever fragile. Endlessly pathetic. Permanently damaged. No amount of instruction or training or life experience will correct this tragic flaw. They are terrible right down to their bones. 

Avoid these people (mostly men) like the plague.
Vote them out of office. 
Transfer out of their division.
Leave their work group as quickly as possible.
Never marry them.
Do everything you can to keep these people out of your life and out of power.

Every thing doesn't need to be a thing

My friend and podcast host Rachel was recently told me about a recommendation she received about the joy of drinking a glass of bourbon while in the shower.

This is, of course, a ridiculous idea. And it's indicative of something that seems to be gaining purchase in society that I would like to publicly take a stand against:

Making a thing out of every thing.

It's happening all around us. It must stop. 

Remember a time when guacamole was prepared in the restaurant's kitchen and delivered to your table by a member of the waitstaff rather than prepared at the table by a member of the kitchen staff, momentarily stifling conversation so you can watch someone do their job for reasons that are ultimately meaningless and slightly awkward?

Remember when weddings didn't require signature drinks named after the bride and groom?

Remember when children's birthday parties didn't end with overflowing goodie bags? 

Remember when soccer was played on fields within your town limits? Remember when terms like "travel soccer" and "weekend tournaments" had not yet been invented? Remember when hundreds of dollars were not spent on hotel rooms so kids can run around on a grassy field just like the one down the street from their home?

Remember when the word promposal didn't exist and you asked someone to the prom by asking them to the prom?

Remember when lattes were not canvases upon which baristas created art?

Remember a time before the use of the ubiquitous use of the word barista?

Every thing doesn't have to be a thing. It's getting ridiculous.

I am a person who prizes simplicity. Efficiency. Productivity. Minimalism. I despise ornamentation. Ostentatiousness. Unnecessary complexity and purposeless expense. I cannot stand when something is made precious that is not precious and was never meat to be precious.

A glass of bourbon in the shower is a stupid idea. Take your shower, get dressed, and then, if you want a glass of bourbon, drink one. Don't turn the act of washing your body into anything more than it is.

Get in. Get out. Get dressed.

Be happy that you're able to shower at all. More than half of the world's population still doesn't have access to hot water for showering on a daily basis. A shower is already a thing. It's an amazing thing. You don't need to add bourbon to the mix to make it any more precious than it already is.   

Guacamole being prepared at the table is ridiculous. We get excited about watching avocados being smashed before out eyes because we think it denotes an exceptional level of freshness and offers an artisanal flair.

It doesn't.

Having your guacamole prepared in the kitchen one minute earlier achieves the same damn thing and doesn't interrupt the conversation with a ridiculous, artificial, ultimately meaningless moment during dinner.

Promposals are atrocious. Teenagers perform and record these elaborate displays because they want attention. They want their prom to mean something more than it already does. They want the recording of their promposal to get more likes or views or shares than their friends' promposals.

There was a time - not so long ago - when a prom was a moment significant in its own right.

Actually, it still is. Teenagers just can't stop staring at YouTube long enough to realize it.  

Signature wedding drinks are created by caterers and bartenders who know that guests will consume these drinks in large amounts, thus allowing them to manage their inventory more effectively and maximize profits. Bride and grooms embrace the concept of  these signature drinks - sometimes spending hours deciding upon the name for each one - because they apparently don't think they are going to get enough attention on their wedding day. They've become such a thing that magazines and websites are now dedicated to the challenge of "perfecting the art of naming your signature drink."

It's an art now.

It's an art apparently capable of achieving perfection, despite the fact that a week after a wedding, no one could tell you the name of the bride and groom's signature drink. 

People love the art that baristas design in their lattes because everything about coffee has been fetishized in our culture. If anything in this world has ever been made into a thing, it is coffee. Drinking a cup of coffee is no longer a means of quenching a thirst or warming you up on a chilly day or injecting caffeine into the bloodstream or even drinking something that tastes good. Coffee has become a ritual for people. The coffee culture has taken something that was once small and simple into something of enormous import and great meaning. Coffee is no longer a warm, tasty beverage that people enjoy in the morning. It has become a means by which people define themselves. It has become a constant source of conversation. It is precious and artisanal and zen, and latte art reinforces these silly beliefs.   

Competing with coffee on the highest level of things being made into things are travel sports. Parents drive or fly their kids to soccer tournaments and swim meets and baseball games around the country because they believe that their children need to compete against the best of the best or be seen by the best coaches or because every other parent is bringing their kids to Timbuktu to play basketball this weekend and "my kid can't be left out!"

I hear from these "travel" kids all the time. Kids who travel from city to city, state to state to play baseball and soccer and swimming and hockey and basketball. They always tell me these four things:

1. They don't care where they play or who they play. They just want to play.
2. Their parents take sports way too seriously and are overly involved in their sporting life. 
3. They worry about making the travel team only because of the enormous pressure they feel to play on the team or else be perceived as inferior by their peers. 
4. They love travel sports not because of the games or the competition but because they love staying in hotel rooms and swimming in hotel pools.

We have turned this thing called youth sports into a thing. An enormous, expensive, ego-driven, parent-centered thing. A thing it was never meant to be and never needed to be. 

I'll say it again. Every thing doesn't need to be a thing.

Showers can just be soap and shampoo and water. 

Coffee can simply be a beverage.

Soccer can be a sport that kids play after school and on Saturdays on the field around the block or even across town.

Asking a girl or a boy to the prom can be a simple - albeit courageous - question posed privately after school. 

Every thing doesn't need to be a thing. We are all important enough already. Life is sufficiently complex. There is already great meaning in simple things if you pay attention. There is no need to make food or drink or sports or toddler birthday parties so ostentatious and grand that we garner undeserved meaning from them.

When a thing is made into a thing, it's usually done in an effort to bring false meaning to a process or undeserved attention to a person. Allow the thing to just be a thing. 

A shower without a glass bourbon has been relaxing and joyful experience for a long, long time. Don't add an alcoholic layer to the process in order to make it any more precious than it already is. Instead, pay attention to how precious and lovely and perfect it already is. See the beauty and meaning and import of the world as it already is.

Things are already things. See them as such. Embrace them for what they already are.  

Boy in blanket fort offers lesson on happiness

It's just a sheet spread over his crib, but it makes him so happy. There's so much joy and wonder in this simple thing.

It's an important reminder to me about how little is required to make you happy if you're willing to open your eyes and see something as new and different. 

Happiness isn't what or who or how much. It isn't what others are thinking or offering or seeing. It's simplicity in the moment. It's wanting little and receiving so much in return. 

It's also a reminder about how invaluable and unforgettable a momentary burst of pure joy can be if you allow it to be so. Happiness sometimes comes to us in flickers of light and sound that we must see and hear and hold and remember. So often we are looking at the wrong thing and worried about the wrong stuff that we miss the thing right in front of us.

Like the limitless joy of a little boy in a blanket fort.

Find your blanket fort. Or make one of your own.

An important corollary on the two greatest super powers of all time

Last week I wrote that the two greatest super powers of all time are immortality and time travel, with teleportation coming in a possible, albeit distant third.

I'd like to offer a corollary on this:

1. If you're not interested in living forever, then I am willing to acknowledge that immortality might not be the greatest super power for you. But you must also be willing to admit that until you actually face death, you might be wrong about your distaste for immortality.

As someone who has faced death three times (and actually died twice), I can assure you that immortality is appealing.

2. Time travel is better than teleportation or any other super power because of the ability to see into the future and warn humanity about (and perhaps even prevent) certain natural disasters and other calamities.

• Alert authorities about the September 11 attacks in order to stop the terrorists and save lives.
• Issue evacuation warnings ahead of earthquakes, tidal waves and other natural disasters. 
• Stop George Lucas from creating Jar Jar Binks.

It would be an enormous burden on the person with this super power, but morally and ethically speaking, how could you not acknowledge that this power is better than the ability to pop in and out of New York City without having to deal with traffic?   

3. There was some concern over the dangers of traveling into the past and catastrophically altering the future in which the time traveler lives (and possibly threatening his or her very existence in the process). There were also concerns over the potential for paradoxes.

While traveling into the past would be appealing, concern over these issues could be mitigated by simply traveling into the future only, and only traveling for observational purposes. A time traveler need only to travel to a library and spend some time reading newspapers or history books in order to find the information he or she needs while risking almost nothing in terms of unintentionally changing the course of human events 

If you're not convinced now, I don't know what to do.