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The most effective version of you doesn’t take 10,000 hours to discover, you’re already this person.

The times in my life when I’ve been most unhappy and unfulfilled are when I was trying to become the best version of what someone else needed me to be for a particular role. Or doing something out of obligation, rather than purpose and passion.

And conversely, the times in my life when I’ve felt most alive and gratified by my work were when I was doing things that came natural to me. Things that allowed me to be who I am, without apology.

I think the importance of professional authenticity is massively underrated.

And although this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t pour ourselves into the mastery of a craft or trade, I think it’s worth doing a gut check along the way to determine whose ideal you you’re becoming.

I’ve always drawn inspiration from hip hop.

“Looking from the surface it may seem like I’ve got reason to be nervous
Then observe my work to see that my adversity was worth it
Verses autobiographical. Absolutely classical [sic]
[The] last thing I’m worried about is what another rapper do [sic]…”

—T.I,. Swagger Like Us

Still with me? 🙂

It’s true that a lot of modern music is recycled, unoriginal, and generally worthless.

But it’s equally true that there are exceptions to this rule, and nuggets of quality to be found if you’re paying attention. I read the passage above like this:

Despite how my circumstances may appear to the uninitiated, the record will show (in the end) that everything I’ve gone through was for a reason (and worth the temporary discomfort).

The authenticity of what I ship is self-evident, is an accurate depiction of my life and story, and represents my very best work (which will stand the test of time).

In light of my intense focus, the last thing with which I’d concern myself with is comparisons to the competition.

Viewing it through that lens, it’s not hard to see this message resonating with anyone who’s trying to create art.

It’s easy to miss a message when it’s not presented in a way that you’re familiar with, but developing a sensitivity to lessons in unfamiliar places is a skill worth developing.

“And this our life exempt from public haunt finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it.”

— William Shakespeare (As You Like It, Act II scene I)

When I was younger, I didn’t understand why restaurants stacked the chairs on the tables at the end of the night to sweep and mop. I mean, I understood it but I didn’t think it was entirely necessary. The floors looked fine.

Then I started working at a restaurant, and my perspective changed.

It wasn’t until I started sweeping the floors that I realized how dirty they got every day. And it wasn’t until I hosed down a kitchen that I realized that an enormous amount of food and…stuff…gets everywhere during business hours.

Not until I rolled silverware and refilled salt and pepper shakers and consolidated condiment containers and folded napkins and replaced soda and refilled ice and left the restaurant after 1am on weekends (more than an hour and a half after the last meal was served) did I appreciate all the work that went into just being able to do business the next day.

I’m often guilty of publishing posts on here with typos and grammatical errors. There’s really no excuse for not proofreading my work carefully or having someone review my content before doing this, but thankfully I have people like David who lend a (regular) hand when I make mistakes.

The broader application of this should be clear.

The product might have shipped, but is it great?

It might be great, but is the world talking about it?

The world might be talking about it, but what’s next?

You might think you’re done, but you might not be finished.

I ordered coffee this weekend at a cafe where no less than 493 people were waiting for their drink. It was a mad house.

When a drink was ready, the barista would read the name written on the cup in some incomprehensible dialect (smile) and place it on the runway.

But instead of placing it name-facing-out so the gaggle of caffeine addicts could easily spot their drink, the name faced the barista.

This drove me nuts.

And in all of my don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover-osity, I immediately determined the following about the barista:

1. They make poor decisions
2. They would probably hand me a knife with the blade pointed toward me
3. They would probably hand me a loaded gun with the barrel pointed toward me
4. They probably have an underdeveloped sense of empathy

And with all these ridiculous assumptions running wild in my head, I thought about how my actions—the ones I don’t notice or intentionally project—speak for me without me realizing it.

I observe a lot of people who get inspired and start projects, and the initial steps I see seem to fall into two categories.

First, there are the people who avoid the work of starting by researching and talking about the idea and being in a constant state of preparation. These are the people who are still preparing to pre-alpha launch the focus group survey that will give them the data they need to spend the next six months inventing new hurdles…

The other group of people (and I’m not exempt) approach new ideas with their previous and current understanding of the big picture. So even when necessary research is done, the likeliness of failure can still be high since the moving parts aren’t critically considered.

The most successful artists I know (and by artist, I mean people who ship their work) develop the ability to think critically about ideas with more intensity and objectivity than most.

The people I look up to aren’t necessarily smarter than their peers, they just have better habits. The ability to reject lazy and unhelpful patterns of thought is one of them.

I’m always on the lookout for my next favorite business. It can be a cafe or a taco stand or an online retailer, what matters is the experience. And when I find it, I tell everyone I know.

My friend Justin does this with products and software, and I’ve spent more money than I care to think about investing in his suggestions. Why?

Because he’s a tastemaker. Because I trust his opinion. Because he does the hard work of being more obsessive and neurotic than I could ever hope to be about the smallest details.

Online
The Internet presents many opportunities for businesses to succeed and fail at delighting many customers, very quickly. If a form on your site is broken or there’s a typo in your sales copy and your site sees 300 visitors before you realize it (you’re not using chartbeat or clicky?), you might have lost that business forever.

Offline
If the maître d’ at a nice restaurant delights or disappoints customers during every shift, it’s likely to reach the ears of management in short order. I always try to respond candidly (not rudely) to management when they inquire about my experience at a restaurant, and I will go out of my way to brag on a wonderful employee.

The nothingness that is average
No one talks about average. Run of the mill (mildly annoying, slow, complicated, and confusing) online transactions are all lumped into the unremarkable pile alongside the others.

And a restaurant filled with employees who punch out the second their shift is up is unlikely to become a destination for men looking for a great place to pop the question.

What makes you special?
Does your site have the user experience of an Everlane?

Does your product become invisible but instantly invaluable like Dropbox?

Do people find you mesmerizing and discuss it in your absence years later?

Are you known for being consistent?

It’s gotta be something.

“You make more money when you’re ready.”

—Frederick Townes

There’s a lot going on in your life. Mine too.

But we don’t have to live every week the same way. Two things that I’m trying:

1. RescueTime.
2. I have OS X announce the time every 30 minutes.

This leaves very little room for squandered weeks if I’m at all serious about reclaiming those “lost” hours.

Momentum is a concept we’re all familiar with in the context of science, but it has some important personal and professional applications as well.

I’m a creature of habit. Reflecting on the past few years of my life, it’s easy to see how the decisions I make impact what I’m likely to be doing in 6, 12, and 24 months down the line.

This is neither good nor bad, but it’s an important observation.

In order to balance out this trait, I have committed to periodic change and calculated risk. This is most evident when you look at my last three mailing addresses (two different states, two different countries). Getting out of my comfort zone and routine helps keep me sharp.

Many of us spend the best years of our lives making other people rich. That’s the reality of the working world. And while many make up from the madness and disengage from the Matrix through freelancing and entrepreneurship and passion projects, it’s common to see people actually creating jobs (that feel like coffins) for themselves instead of the freedom businesses that they once envisioned.

As I caution many aspiring job-quitters, quitting is the easy part. Perhaps not emotionally (that’s the hardest part), but certainly in execution.

But then what?

Instead of working with management to help turn an unfulfilling role into an important and valuable one, some jump ship without a second thought. When you’re young and single and smart and ambitious and have 6 months of savings in the bank, you can “afford” to do things like that. I’m all for sticking it to the man. Really.

But in my 29 months of being in the real world, I’ve seen enough to understand the importance of planning, timing, and strategy. This doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to taking flight, of course. As a matter of fact, a measured approach sometimes entails making even riskier moves (with outsized rewards).

But I’m very careful about the story I tell and the flames I fan with my story. Doing what matters is important, but so is rent. And finding an excuse to buy the next iPhone.

Maybe I’m getting old.

I moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina almost two months ago.

I don’t know Spanish, so learning it has been a goal of mine, despite being able to get along here with a remarkably small amount of it at your disposal. I’m passionate about the written and spoken word, so it’s been a fascinating and gratifying adventure.

The adventure hasn’t unfolded in the way that I expected, though. Instead of just learning Spanish, I’ve been learning about accents, dialects, the peculiarities of the language, and the language (vocabulary, for example) itself.

It’s natural to want to learn how you say certain phrases in Spanish and think that you can call it a day, but I’m seeing that this will lead to a very poor mastery of the language.

Put another way, I’m not able to “trade” my English words and phrases for Spanish ones.

After so many of my questions were met with, “it doesn’t work like that in Spanish” (paraphrased), I started thinking more deeply about what I was missing. I also started to “relax” and get a feel for the texture and idiosyncrasies.

With enough of the right practice and simply noticing things, I’m able to teach myself a bit of Spanish along the way because of the mental framework that I’m developing. I’m now able to — very quickly — determine that someone didn’t learn Spanish in Argentina by how they say certain words.

It’s similar to how you’d pick up on a midwest accent or if someone is a non-native English speaker.

The whole experience is pushing me to reconsider how I approach the unknown, and how my existing mental models can both help and hinder the gaining of new knowledge.

As with many things of this sort, there’s no cute bullet list (despite my love for them) that I can pass along to help, you just have to [::motions with hands::] feel your way through it and learn from your mistakes.

That’s my approach, anyway.

Saludos!