I recently stumbled upon a picture of an elephant, drawn by a European artist in the Middle Ages. The artist had never seen an elephant in person, only heard rumors of its greatness and ferocity from soldiers who came back from wars in India and Southeast Asia. It was depicted in a form so grotesque, that it was barely recognizable as an elephant. It's body was a circle, larger than the surrounding houses. Tusks would often number at three or four, and legs were rumored to be thicker than the thickest tree trunks, and made entirely of one long, unbreakable bone.
I then found a drawing my 4 year old sister made of an elephant. I don't know if she had seen one in person, besides the time she was taken to a zoo when she was one or two years old. But her depiction was magnitudes better than that of the professional artist from hundreds of years ago.
The learning and knowledge accumulation of the human race is amazing. Today's 4 year old child knows so much more than the most learned scholar of just a few hundred years before. These thoughts get me excited and overly optimistic of the types of knowledge to reach the minds of my own children and grandchildren, and generations beyond.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
The Written Me
Writing is a process of honesty. The words I write in a journal, or in the margins of a notebook during class, or those that I type out into this box, all come from the innermost truth I can understand in myself. I do not know if it is that way for all people, that writing is a sketch of who we really are, but it is undoubtedly so for me.
At times, it is educational. I learn about myself, I get my thoughts in order. Any clever joke I think of, any business idea I have, and strand of creativity that passes through my chaotic mind, I attempt to put on paper. And, looking back, I am often amused and entertained by my own ideas.
But at times, it is scary. I do not hold reservations when writing, because that would be a blatant lie to myself. Different from suppressing mental thoughts, altering my written thoughts is a phony, misleading, act. And deceiving myself would be, simply put, a moral mistake.
Because of my honesty, my writing sometimes scares me. All the thoughts hidden in the back of my mind, visible only to me, and just as easily brushed off- they become real. I can see them, read them aloud, hear them, understand them. But this understanding is the reason I write them down. Writing helps me understand myself. It helps me understand who I am, and what I think, and why I think it. Writing helps elucidate the issues I have with myself and the world, and to frame and to solve them. While at times unnerving, it is writing that leads me to a greater and more confident self-consciousness.
I do not always want to be honest with myself. Why not? Perhaps understanding yourself is the scariest and bravest thing one can do.
At times, it is educational. I learn about myself, I get my thoughts in order. Any clever joke I think of, any business idea I have, and strand of creativity that passes through my chaotic mind, I attempt to put on paper. And, looking back, I am often amused and entertained by my own ideas.
But at times, it is scary. I do not hold reservations when writing, because that would be a blatant lie to myself. Different from suppressing mental thoughts, altering my written thoughts is a phony, misleading, act. And deceiving myself would be, simply put, a moral mistake.
Because of my honesty, my writing sometimes scares me. All the thoughts hidden in the back of my mind, visible only to me, and just as easily brushed off- they become real. I can see them, read them aloud, hear them, understand them. But this understanding is the reason I write them down. Writing helps me understand myself. It helps me understand who I am, and what I think, and why I think it. Writing helps elucidate the issues I have with myself and the world, and to frame and to solve them. While at times unnerving, it is writing that leads me to a greater and more confident self-consciousness.
I do not always want to be honest with myself. Why not? Perhaps understanding yourself is the scariest and bravest thing one can do.
Friday, January 2, 2015
An Entrepreneurial Experiment Begins
The future can be a worrisome thing. There are expectations,
and demands, and hopes and dreams and worries. Myriad roads lead to dozens of
uncertain outcomes, the right-ness or wrong-ness of each to be determined only
in the aftermath of each decision. What if we take the wrong turn? What if we
make the wrong choice? What if, five or ten or twenty years from now, we
look back and see that we missed so many opportunities to have left us in a pit
of failure deeper than we imagined possible in our hopeful aspirations of our youth.
There are certain roads that virtually guarantee our safety
from such a fall. As a 21 year old business major with no hard skills, there
exist many industries that can guarantee respect, status, and financial
comfort. There are companies in need of creative thinking, analytical skills,
and leadership ability to work and create the next generation of Amazon
offerings, Deloitte solutions, and Goldman services.
These paths are exhilarating, challenging, and meaningful in
their own ways. Getting invited to join their ranks is worthy of acclimation
and a respecting nod. Once in the position, succeeding enough to be noticed,
promoted, and sought out by the dozens of companies that will come calling for
your service is in itself a slow, and somewhat uncertain process. And,
undeniably, our world would not be as developed and progressed as it is today
without the brilliance, tireless efforts, and passionate work of the people in
these roles.
However, a soon to be graduating business major has another
option available to him. Entrepreneurship is sort of mystical word, associated
as much with the greatness of our most revered business leaders as it is with
the painful statistics of failure. The path of entrepreneurship, in my
experience, is often looked at with a sort of tongue-in-cheek dismissal. It is
the path of one with little foresight, or patience, or talent to work in the
corporate world. It is an industry for 30 year olds, with work experience, an
MBA, and a decade of connections. It is, simply put, a bad idea for me to do so.
But I love the thought of it.
Today is December 31st, 2014. In a few hours, we
welcome the New Year, and with it all of its hopes, goals, challenges, and
decisions. I have a goal of my own. I begin this New Year with two
entrepreneurial projects, the progress of which I hope to track with this blog.
Admittedly, and in the interest of full disclosure, this comes partially in the
aftermath of my 20th rejection for full time employment, and an
uncertainty of what my future holds. This comes after the hundredth time in which
a friend, an aunt, or a stranger has asked me my plans after graduation, and
looked uncertainly- and sometimes disapprovingly- as I mentioned
entrepreneurship.
But this also comes from a desire to create. To see what my
two hands are capable of. To test my brain at the measurement stick of my own
survival. My time, effort, and creativity will congeal in success, to various
degrees. Laziness, inadaptability, and lack of enthusiasm will result in a
disappointing failure.
I believe I can do it. And I must believe that I will. And
so, as we sail into this New Year, I make a wish for us all.
May our morning be inspired by goals, our afternoon be
propelled by vision, and our evenings calmed by fulfillment. May we find the
courage to believe in ourselves, the humility to listen, and the confidence to
persevere. May this New Year bring us all success in proportion to our efforts,
and happiness far beyond what we can imagine. Have a happy, healthy, exciting
2015.
"Entrepreneurship is the last refuge of the trouble making individual"
-Natalie Clifford Barney
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Phirst Fish
(See what I did there?)
Coming home silly with my buddy Danny was fun all year long. Trudging our way to McMasters Street, stumbling along at 2am, discussing some nonsense was awesome. And often times we'd end up on the couch, listening to music and talking. And then the offer for Phish would come up. Honestly, it just wasn't for me. Too much going on, too much that just didn't make sense. It seemed like too many sounds, too many weird instruments, too much happening that couldn't be happening all at once. Certainly one impossible thing.
But this year taught me not to dismiss something I haven't tried, so yesterday I set out to try it. Picked up at 2pm by friends from my home in my 2nd least favorite state (only better than the Dakota that doesn't have Mount Rushmore), we began our trip. Hours later, we were meeting up with friends I thought I had already said goodbye to for the last time for a year, but here they were again. A miracle occurring as Mr. Steiner arrives without a ticket to a sold out show, where two hundred fans walk the venue, fingers up offering 5 times face value for a last minute ticket for every one shrewd business man looking to sell one. And an hour after I had given up faith, the great Steiner returns, $40 ticket in hand. Certainly another impossible thing.
And the show began. Standing along side close friends, both heavy enthusiasts and first time attendees, everything seemed right. And it wasn't just great music. It was a perfect event. Energy flowed through the crowd like a spark through a people connected by copper wire. The music emphasized by four professionals playing separately so well that it seemed to be one instrument. The crowd, 20 thousand people dancing in a frenzy so ubiquitously wild and individual that it seemed to be a single wave pulsating through a single body, reflecting the swings of the music.
I know Derek, Coop, and I had a blast. Team Phish.
"Thought I could get you to come to Yarmouth Road. Play with the bees and buzz in the honeycombs."
-Yarmouth Road, Phish
Coming home silly with my buddy Danny was fun all year long. Trudging our way to McMasters Street, stumbling along at 2am, discussing some nonsense was awesome. And often times we'd end up on the couch, listening to music and talking. And then the offer for Phish would come up. Honestly, it just wasn't for me. Too much going on, too much that just didn't make sense. It seemed like too many sounds, too many weird instruments, too much happening that couldn't be happening all at once. Certainly one impossible thing.
But this year taught me not to dismiss something I haven't tried, so yesterday I set out to try it. Picked up at 2pm by friends from my home in my 2nd least favorite state (only better than the Dakota that doesn't have Mount Rushmore), we began our trip. Hours later, we were meeting up with friends I thought I had already said goodbye to for the last time for a year, but here they were again. A miracle occurring as Mr. Steiner arrives without a ticket to a sold out show, where two hundred fans walk the venue, fingers up offering 5 times face value for a last minute ticket for every one shrewd business man looking to sell one. And an hour after I had given up faith, the great Steiner returns, $40 ticket in hand. Certainly another impossible thing.
And the show began. Standing along side close friends, both heavy enthusiasts and first time attendees, everything seemed right. And it wasn't just great music. It was a perfect event. Energy flowed through the crowd like a spark through a people connected by copper wire. The music emphasized by four professionals playing separately so well that it seemed to be one instrument. The crowd, 20 thousand people dancing in a frenzy so ubiquitously wild and individual that it seemed to be a single wave pulsating through a single body, reflecting the swings of the music.
I know Derek, Coop, and I had a blast. Team Phish.
"Thought I could get you to come to Yarmouth Road. Play with the bees and buzz in the honeycombs."
-Yarmouth Road, Phish
6 Impossible Things
I have spent the last year changing.
I have a new found appreciation for live music. Not one genre or artist, but an appreciation for the talent that accompanies the creation of real music, and the immense skill involved to create the experience of a truly amazing live event. Highlighted by my unreal experience at last night's Phish show with my closest friends from school, a spectacular December 30th Afrojack concert with the 168 and friends (shout out to Coop for being at both), and time spent with some very I have found an appetite for live music that will be difficult to satiate.
I've been through an accident that could have set me back much more than the temporary 12 week constraint, but served to inspire an excitement for every single moment that has followed the end of the summer, and an eager anticipation of all moments to follow.
I've grown like an inch and a half, which is awesome.
Most importantly, however, I have been changed by the anticipation of what is still to come. August 15th, at 2:05pm. That's the start of my year abroad, the start of the moment I have been waiting for even before I arrived to Carolina as a student. This year will not be real life. There are no rules, no limitations, no set backs. All I have are new friends, new playgrounds around the world, and new experiences. 3 days at Oktoberfest are already booked. 4 days in Brussels and Berlin, each, booked. Sheeeeet I'm excited.
I am going to use this blog to document what happens. 6 impossible things? A semester in Copenhagen, a month in Spain, and a semester in Hong Kong already seems impossible. But here it is. Lets see what else awaits.
I am starting now, 4 weeks and 4 days before my flight, to get some practice, to get into a groove, and record how the end of the summer is going. Post number 1 will be last night's Phish.
“Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
- The Queen, Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Caroll
I have a new found appreciation for live music. Not one genre or artist, but an appreciation for the talent that accompanies the creation of real music, and the immense skill involved to create the experience of a truly amazing live event. Highlighted by my unreal experience at last night's Phish show with my closest friends from school, a spectacular December 30th Afrojack concert with the 168 and friends (shout out to Coop for being at both), and time spent with some very I have found an appetite for live music that will be difficult to satiate.
I've been through an accident that could have set me back much more than the temporary 12 week constraint, but served to inspire an excitement for every single moment that has followed the end of the summer, and an eager anticipation of all moments to follow.
I've grown like an inch and a half, which is awesome.
Most importantly, however, I have been changed by the anticipation of what is still to come. August 15th, at 2:05pm. That's the start of my year abroad, the start of the moment I have been waiting for even before I arrived to Carolina as a student. This year will not be real life. There are no rules, no limitations, no set backs. All I have are new friends, new playgrounds around the world, and new experiences. 3 days at Oktoberfest are already booked. 4 days in Brussels and Berlin, each, booked. Sheeeeet I'm excited.
I am going to use this blog to document what happens. 6 impossible things? A semester in Copenhagen, a month in Spain, and a semester in Hong Kong already seems impossible. But here it is. Lets see what else awaits.
I am starting now, 4 weeks and 4 days before my flight, to get some practice, to get into a groove, and record how the end of the summer is going. Post number 1 will be last night's Phish.
“Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
- The Queen, Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Caroll
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