Welcome.

You’re probably here from my post on Tim’s site. A few words about this one. I don’t do the standard blog stuff. I use the second person a lot. You like that. I try to talk about the things that I wish blogs would talk about more often: life, dealing with assholes, how to be self-critical and self-aware, humility, philosophy, reading and strategy. And by those things I mean those things in a thoughtful and practical way, not seo-bait and bulleted list stuff.

Anyway, there is a core group of readers here and you’re welcome to join us. There is a monthly email of reading and book suggestions which can be signed up for here.

Some of my bigger posts:
The Narrative Fallacy (also see The Soundtrack of Your Life Delusion and The Second Act Fallacy)
Schemes and Scams
Read to Lead: How to Digest Books Above Your “Level”
Contemptuous Expressions
A False Sense
Stoicism 101: A Practical Guide for Entrepreneurs
The Experimental Life: An Introduction to Michel de Montaigne
Is This Who You Want to Be?
The Dress Suit Bribe

And finally, here is a small update on me…if you’re curious who I am exactly.

I have always felt pulled in two conflicting directions. It has not been pleasant. It’s made me feel miserable when I should feel happy, afraid when I should feel secure–a sort of constant tension and uncertainty that takes an exhausting toll.

There is the part of me drawn to discipline. To work and do great things in this brief bit of time I have been given. It is the force that keeps my nose in books and rarely allows my mind to waste a second. You could say that this is the part of me that people see and assume I am much older than I actually am, as they often have and do. This is the reason I’ve done the things I’ve been able to do while the rest of my generation is unemployed or deluding themselves. It is the side I indulge most.

There is another part of me pulled towards recklessness. To simply live. To hate the things that most people seem to value. To not want to be anything like them, to barely give a shit about what I’ve done and where I’ve been so far. To so seriously consider trading it in to do nothing ever again that it makes me want to cry. This is an urge that I do not understand.

I fear I won’t ever be able to. When I try to explore it, to see why I am drawn towards these things, the other side takes over. The few moves I’ve made in my life that could be considered daring or even reckless–dropping out of school, packing up and moving across the country–were almost immediately overwhelmed by the responsible side. The pureness and freedom almost instantly corrupted by the instinct to ‘turn it into to something.’

I remember once on this site feeling like I could write and write whatever I wanted, that there was no idea end to what I had to say. Slowly, certain self-applied standards began to encroach stylistically. No, that’s not good enough. Or no, that’s not the type of stuff I want to here. What felt like rigor was actually the gradual removal of options, to the point of partial paralysis.

And so it goes. Running becomes something that must be done every day. Books must be read. Contacts must be kept. Friendships must be turned into business relationships. Everything must be made into an opportunity, because opportunities can be turned into something. An opportunity to…

All this is to say that there is a tension in me that I have trouble grappling with. It is the feeling of living in a house divided against itself. Worse, given the irony of the disagreement being rooted in the same philosophic principals: to value only what is important, self-direction and freedom. And yet I think they are both equal parts fear, the fear of simply just being.

I do not know the solution here, or the answer. This is not meant to be advice. The person who watches as one side of them strangles the other, shunting it off to the side where its only remaining role is to impotently undermine their earnest accomplishments should not be giving advice. I only know that this is no way to live. Finding the balance here–easing the tension–will be the next steps for me. It will make my next moves clear. And between now and then will not be fun.

Yesterday, I forgot what day of the week it was. Not the standard “hey, man what’s the date?” small talk we say without thinking, but truly and completely mistook one day for another. I’d been engrossed in my writing and in my work and lost track where I was in the week.

It must be Tuesday, I thought, I spent all day working yesterday. In my mind, I’d become so used to the arbitrary distinction between the week and the weekend that it seemed like a natural law. The fact that one meant being in an office and the other usually didn’t was like an subconscious compass. But now, it’s not true anymore.

One day. All days. The same. To wake up, do my work, on myself and by myself, and nevermind the details. It was a feeling I hadn’t had since I was a kid, when breaks from school would run longer than my memory could go in either direction.

Remember, people who love what they do wear themselves out doing it. They forget to even wash and sleep. There is a reason, I think, that I immediately recalled something to my childhood when I realized I’d done this. To be consumed with work–pleasurable work–and curiosity and almost nothing else is to revert back to a natural state.

From this naturalness comes happiness. Because happiness, as the philosophers say, exists solely in the present, results from discipline, and manifests itself in excellence.