13 Lessons from 37 Years
My Gift to You for my 37th Birthday
To celebrate my 37th birthday, here are thirteen lessons (and a few bonuses) that have done a lot for me. Some are serious, some are silly, and all have come in handy for me at some time or another. Most were shared with me first. If you get something out of it, I hope you share it with someone else.
#1. Do the weirdest thing that feels right.
Most of us don’t suffer from bad choices vs. good choices. Instead, we are overwhelmed with “good enough” choices.
We are all mostly trying to do the right thing. And so, most of our difficult decisions come not from trying to do the right thing instead of the wrong thing, but from trying to pick among seemingly equally right things.
When you’re looking at those seemingly equally right things, you’ll almost always notice that one of them seems weirder than the rest. It seems silly or less serious yet you are still considering. The truth is that what you think is weird is not really about whether it’s weird at all. Weirdness is a construct that is a stand-in for other people’s expectations.
The “weird” option is the one you really want to do. The fact that you’re still considering it means that it fought its way past your invisible jury consisting of other people’s expectations hidden in your mind somewhere. It is the one truest to you.
My life is one long chain of times where I did something that I thought was weird and it went great, and times when I tried not to be weird and it went awful. Two things I hold in high value are self-knowledge, and overcoming fear.
“Do the weirdest thing that feels right” is a way to immediately see where you’re afraid, better understand yourself, and make the choice aligned with what you really want.
#2. Goldfish is a seriously good topping for chili.
This was a revelation for me. I learned it when my daughter was born and my wife was still recovering. Someone dropped off like–I kid you not–three gallons of homemade chili. We were grateful to have something we could microwave for hearty sustenance in the January cold but I was looking for ways to mix it up.
So, chili is delicious but even better with toppings. Crackers are good but bland. Cheese is good but can sometimes just add to the goo. Goldfish are the best of both worlds, and you don’t have to crush them in your hand like a cracker.
Crackers are good for the crunch. Cheese is good for the flavor. You get the best of both worlds if you’re not afraid to look a little silly and think outside the box. This is a good metaphor for a lot of things. So go ahead. Just grab them out of the box and toss them into the bowl and–voila. Don’t mix them in, just throw them on top and eat them and throw the next layer on top as you go. Just try it, trust me.
#3. It’s easy to confuse how much you want to do something with how much you want to have done it.
Whenever someone tells me they cannot accomplish some goal that they have, assuming we have the rapport and mutual respect that warrants this question, I’ll ask, “so what’s stopping you?” If they say that they can’t motivate themselves, I’ll usually hit them with the following anecdote.
My cousin’s husband is a PhD in English (or Literature, or both–I’m not sure), and we were talking a few years ago about the books we were reading. He was telling me about all the books he was reading and enjoyed and I was telling him about a book I was reading. I was trudging through some classic I didn’t like and was kind of surprised he was just hopping around random eclectic books that sounded fun even though he was in a reading-intensive program.
I shared with him that I liked how he just read what he liked and he said, “Yeah, I started reading a lot more books when I realized what a huge gulf there was between the books I want to read and the book I want to have read.” It dawned on me I’d never made that distinction, and I spent so much time slogging through books I wanted “to have read,” to impress somebody or check some arbitrary box, but didn’t really care to read.
I extrapolated this out and realized that it applied to dozens and dozens of other areas: places I want to have been, foods I want to have eaten, etc. One of my favorite recent books is The Pathless Path by my friend
which is a genius book about deprogramming yourself when you realize that you are stuck in a life or career you want to have had but you don’t want.I think once people discover this distinction that there is a difference between wanting to do something and wanting to have done it, it is very illuminating. And it is often a circuitous way back to #1: do the weirdest thing that feels right.
#4. Always communicate in writing as if it will be read back to you in court.
My Dad practiced as an attorney before he got out of that business to open a bookstore and he hammered this into me from an early age and man has it saved me so many times.
I always make sure to be very clear about tone if there is a possibility for misinterpretation. I never say anything mean or unbecoming (aka talk shit) about people in writing (and I try to avoid it at all, but hey, I’m only human). Whenever possible (without being overly formal and writing strange prefaces and epilogues in all my texts and emails), I try to provide appropriate written context whenever I’m communicating with people.
Over the years, I’ve gotten better and it’s second nature to me now, taking no extra time at all. The number of times I’ve sent an email or text or taken notes on a computer and it’s shown up again somewhere I didn’t expect or been found is higher than I can count.
#5. Never have a heated conversation with your significant other at night, and never ever have one at night in the bedroom.
This is the advice I’ve been thanked the most for. When it was told to me, I was telling my older married friend that my then-girlfriend now-wife and I were going to talk about something serious and my older married friend said, “yeah, just make sure not to talk about it in bed, or even in the bedroom, and probably not at night. It’s just a bad idea.”
I took that to hear. My wife and I went from having the occasional tense conversation bordering on argument every few weeks to seldom having them at all. Simply because the next time it looked like we were about to argue at bedtime, I told her his advice and she agreed. Things just never seem as serious or dramatic after lunch in the afternoon as they do at 10:00 pm.
#6. To get back into reading, read the silliest stuff possible.
This advice is a filter. If you’re not reading and you want to “get back” into it, then I already know you consider reading “serious.” So I know the type of person you are and I know the type of books you want to read. And so I know what you’re trying to read and why it’s not sticking.
Here’s the thing, reading is a great way to grow your mind but it should also be enjoyable. I use the word silly intentionally, as a cleave. You need to walk before you can run, and if you can’t walk, you need to crawl. I am currently reading a lot of heavy stuff, but when I’m in a dry spell and can’t finish anything, I pick up a mystery or fantasy novel–because it’s fun!
I remember how much fun it is to read and develop stamina at the same time. But sometimes, life is so busy that even a light fantasy novel or mystery can’t do it, so you know what I read? Animorphs. I go all the way back to middle school science fiction books because they are that easy and that fun.
Most importantly, they are silly. They are not silly—they are about child soldiers and intergalactic war. But they are campy Young Adult sci-fi soap operas with half-boy-half-birds on the front—that sounds silly to me! I can read one in an afternoon and it doesn’t matter if I have three minutes or three hours, I’ll get something out of it. Once my reading routine is established, I pick up a novel, and then I work my way back up.
So when you read, “read the silliest stuff possible,” your mind immediately went to some guilty pleasure like romance novels or manga or Diary of a Wimpy Kid–something you’d have to wrap in a brown grocery bag to read at a coffee shop. Whatever it was, if you’re having trouble getting into a reading routine, start with that! That is the key to restarting you’re reading habit, not gritting your teeth through a page of the serious book you’re interested in.
#7. Make your own canon.
A canon is a list of things that people point to and say, “these are significant.” It’s used for things like the Western Canon, which is the list of works that various scholars or cultural critics have deemed significant to the Western cultural tradition (think the Classics, the Bible, Shakespeare, etc.). Or, sometimes on a TV show, they will say that an event is or is not canon, meaning it is not part of the list of events and characters that is the official backstory for the show.
“Make your own canon” means celebrating the things that inspire you. Make your own best-of lists. Write your own autobiography. Cultivate your own opinions. Focus on what you want to see more of. Our current culture and means of communication are so focused on dogpiles and groupthink.
Most of the time, when someone says, “think for yourself,” the subtext is invariably that the sentence ends with a sneering, “man!” As if everybody who thinks for themself is going to end up some kind of jaded adolescent, angry at everyone, concluding that nobody else has ever said anything smart, or made anything beautiful, or cracked a good joke.
Make your canon is a rallying cry in the other direction: you can be a free thinker who also sees that the world has plenty of truth, beauty, and laughter.
Make your own canon means having defined ideas about what you think is true, beautiful, and worthwhile, and taking the time to share why.
#8. Order either what the waiter says the place is known for or the strangest prominent thing on the menu.
Variety is the spice of life. Unless you’re sure what you want, ask the waiter, “What are you all known for? When I tell someone I’ve been here, and they say, ‘Oh you went there–did you try the ____?’ What will they ask me about?”
I’m always interested in what a restaurant is best known for and what people order the most. I’ve tried dozens of variations of questions, and some version of this has always got me the best answers.
I used to ask the servers what they liked the best, but that started failing me a few years ago–I’m not sure why. Plus, if you ask them what they like and you hate it, it’s a lot of pressure to decide not to order it. With this question, it’s much easier to just say no thanks.
Alternatively, order the strangest prominent thing on the menu. For the same reason as do the weirdest thing that feels right, menus are valuable real estate. If there’s something unconventional or bizarre in a good place on the menu, it might be really good.
I like this because it’s kind of a funny, counterintuitive way for you to both try new things but also to share experiences with people. It’s popular to sneer at tourism, like nothing is so low as to go to another place and do the same thing as everyone else. But why? Would Disney adults be less worthy of derision if they called themselves pilgrims? I think we should let people decide what they think is sacred.
Plus, if it’s your first time at the restaurant and you don’t like it when you try it, you don’t have to eat it again (or even go back).
#9. It’s easy to confuse not wanting to do something with not wanting to start it.
James Clear’s bestselling 2018 book Atomic Habits suggested something called the two-minute rule. The idea is that to start a new habit, you should figure out the “two-minute version” of that habit and then do that, not the full habit. This is because it’s easier, and it helps you build up the routine.
This was intuitive to me because I learned a long time ago that I would agonize over how much I didn’t want to do things that, once I started them, were not actually that bad. The most recent version of this is cleaning my house (almost) every night before bed. Borrowing from a popular TikTok trend, I call it ‘the closing shift.”
After my wife and daughter are off to bed, I think to myself, let me just put on my headphones and closing shift playlist, and just listen to a couple of songs and pick up the living room. If I can’t get in a rhythm, I’ll go to bed. Pretty much every time I start, I go through the whole process of picking up the living room, doing the dishes, wiping the kitchen counters, sweeping the floors, and laying out clothes for the next day.
Right now I am the fittest I have ever been in my life, but I learned this lesson the previous time I got the fittest I had ever been in my life. It was because instead of saying, “I will go to the gym every day and work out.” I said, “I will get dressed for the gym every day and drive to the parking lot listening to Rick Ross.” And for two years I only drove to the gym listening to Rick Ross and turned around twice.
#10. If you’re trying to build a running habit and you don’t feel a little stupid, you’re probably running too fast.
I have been running and lifting weights regularly. I don’t look like a fitness model and I’m not breaking records, but like I said, I’m the fittest I’ve ever been in my life right now. Lifting weights is old hat for me, but a few weeks ago when I ran four miles, it was the longest I’d ever run in my life. Since then I regularly run four, five, or even six or seven miles.
What changed for me was that I learned I needed to build up my “Zone 2” endurance. I am going to be honest, I don’t know what the hell this means but you can Google it if you’re curious. The short version is that Zone 2 endurance is submaximal effort. The cue you get from trainers to understand you are exercising in “Zone 2” is that you are walking quickly or jogging and can have a regular conversation but it is a little difficult and strained.
For years and years, I wanted to build a running habit but couldn’t, because I would burn out so fast or injure myself. Then one day I found a video about “Japanese slow-jogging.” I laughed at videos of all these old Japanese people practically walking but then I tried it and I could go forever and ever. I was trying to explain how to do it to someone over the phone and I told them, “if you don’t feel stupid, you’re probably running too fast.”
When, a year or so later, Peter Attia and some other health influencers started talking about Zone 2 training all the time, I realized that Japanese slow-jogging fit the bill! I was doing it. Earlier this summer, when I joined a half marathon training group and had to pick up the pace a few times, I was actually fairly competitive for the first time in my life. This was not in spite of my weeks and months of comically slow running but because of it. I have been an evangelist for jogging at speeds that people can speedwalk past ever since then. But even more broadly, it has taught me a bigger lesson about taking things slowly and putting in the reps to build a base and excel later.
#11. Almost nobody is funny enough to verbally describe a joke they watched or read on the internet.
From seven to fifteen years old, I was a hopeless quote addict. I was boorish to talk to because I would try to inject The Simpsons or Family Guy quotes into every conversation I was a part of. I am not like that now—actually, I am now probably best known for my sense of humor. What changed is I realized what good humor is and what it is for.
At one point, I taught improv comedy and I had one guy who loved comedy but struggled because he couldn’t stop saying “that’s what she said!” in like every scene he was in. (This is bad. It’s like a chef topping every course with ketchup.) Finally, I explained to him that every joke is setup + punchline. A good joke is about making people see what you see. He had great instincts for identifying setups, but shit instincts for coming up with punchlines. He was alienating people. So next time, instead of saying “that’s what she said,” just heighten the tension so that some other person could come along and say it and it would be even funnier.
Not even five minutes later, he and another guy were moving a piece of furniture in from someone’s truck outside. When they walked inside, they were both holding the end of a comically small couch. Someone asked what they were doing and the guy said, “it’s a lot smaller than I thought it was going to be.” The bad improviser’s head snapped around to me, then his eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised sky high and he said, “they always take pictures at awkward angles to make them look as big as they can.”
Writing this today, I realize this is not an award-winning joke, but then, it was a barn burner. Because good humor is about either making people laugh or bringing people together. Retelling memes or quoting movies usually doesn’t do the trick. Bring them in on the joke instead. The best way to do this is to show them the setup by heightening the stakes so they can laugh at the inherent joke, or laugh at the punchline with you when it happens. Doing this well enough often enough makes you look funny, smart, and generous at the same time.
#12. At least one time, you should go to the movie theater by yourself on a weekday to see a movie that starts at or before lunchtime.
I’m ending with what might be the most idiosyncratic advice because it is only good for me, but I love seeing a matinee that starts at like 11:00 am for one simple reason.
There is a unique blend to having me brain engaged but also not having to do a lot of work, and also having my attention be fully occupied on something but it being interesting and fun rather than stressful. Plus, I hate checking my phone at the movies, and (sadly) it’s rare for me to go ninety minutes or more from 10:00 am - 2:00 pm on most weekdays without looking at my phone.
I try to see a midday matinee once every few months. Then, no matter whether the movie was good or bad, on the rare occasion when I come out of the dark theater into the midday sunlight I almost always feel completely refreshed. I’ve seen people meditate before where they go, “wow that’s like the best nap I’ve ever had.” And for me, that’s what an 11:00 am movie is like. It’s like a palate cleanser on reality.
#13. 99% of success is being prepared, punctual, and pleasant.
A lot of people are looking for “the secret” to success. But the secret is actually that everyone knows what success is. It’s very simple but it’s not easy. Bruce Lee said it best: consistency trumps intensity. But consistency at what?
I remember once my Dad took me on a work lunch with him and a colleague while he was still an attorney. I was 10 or 11 years old. Every time I remember the story, his friend grows more grandiose, from a coworker to his boss to a judge to a federal judge.
At one point the Senator looked at me and in his deep East Texas voice asked, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”
Being the precocious cheeky little boy I was at the time I said, “happy and rich.”
He boomed out a laugh and gave me the following monologue, the broad strokes of which I’ve never forgotten and relayed to probably hundreds of unsuspecting friends, students, and acquaintances over the years.
“99% of success is being prepared, punctual, and pleasant. Success means routinely getting what you want. Being prepared means you know what the hell you’re doing. Know people’s names and what room you’re walking into. Being punctual means you’re going to the right places at the right times. And being pleasant doesn’t mean you’re already smiling like an idiot or joking around, but people like having you around more than not having you around. The reason it’s only 99% is because you have to know yourself just a little. This doesn’t cover the whole burrito.”
I looked to my Dad who nodded. His friend continued.
“This formula is so good, that if you can actually nail only two in the long term, they’ll usually let you off the hook for the third. If you know your shit and everybody loves you, you can be a little late. And if you’re always on time and you are the one who gets things done, you can be a little prickly. And if you’re always on time and everybody likes you, frankly, you can be a dummy. But whoo boy, you nail all three, that’s a recipe to go straight for the top. And you find out what you’re good at too. You can write your own ticket.”
I’ve given this advice so many times, that people who know people I know have started to give it back to me. So far in life, I have only been pleasant and prepared, but maybe, at 37, I will learn to stop being pathologically 10 minutes late everywhere I go.
Party Favors
Here are a few honorable mentions as parting gifts. I think that these are pretty good but don’t need quite the space to explore that the previous ones did.
If you haven’t yet, visit New Orleans. When I lived in China for three years and Chinese people or other international travelers asked me which American city to visit, I was shocked at how few had been told they should see New Orleans. The food is some of the best in the world.
If you’re a knowledge worker who spends a lot of time typing, learn to use AutoHotkey or a similar program. It’s a keyboard shortcut program where you can set shortcuts where for instance, every time you type two @ it types your email address. Especially if you write the same few things over and over, this might save you years of your life. (Apple has similar shortcuts for the iPhone.)
Save the cards people send you. Write the date (or at least the year) and who they’re from on the back and put them in a little box for the next time you feel like crap.
You’re not in traffic, you are traffic. Every other car on the road is someone just like. Expecting them to go faster to let you through is just spiking your blood pressure. It’s like drinking poison to kill someone else. Just put on a podcast and chill out.
Write down the good advice you get. You never know when it might come in handy later.
happy birthday!
Happy birthday homie. Rick Ross is important.