What to Do When You Don’t Know What You Want
Everyone tells you to follow what you want, as if you’d been issued a list at birth. If you weren’t, here’s how to find out without waiting for a lightning bolt.
Everyone tells you to follow what you want, as if you’d been issued a list at birth. If you weren’t, here’s how to find out without waiting for a lightning bolt.
I used to believe I’d thought about a problem because I’d worried about it. Then I tried to write the problem down in one paragraph and discovered I didn’t actually know what it was.
The email you’re afraid to send is usually the one that fixes things. The trick isn’t courage. It’s writing it fully, sleeping on it, and then cutting everything that was really about you.
Every journal I started with great intentions died by page nine. The one that’s lasted takes ninety seconds and asks three questions I can’t dodge.
Most people who say they are short on time are actually short on a decision. The hours are there; they are being spent on not choosing.
One question has saved me from more bad choices than any amount of pros-and-cons lists. It takes ten seconds, and it works because it moves you out of the room you’re standing in.
Knowing what you want is useful. Knowing what you refuse to become is more so, because it filters every decision before ambition can distort it.
Sort-of doing five things costs more than fully doing two, and produces less. The half-commitment is the most expensive thing on your list.
Discipline is usually framed as force: making yourself do what you do not want. It is more accurately a memory problem, and it gets easier when you solve the right one.
Before you go
One email when The Reality Code opens on Kickstarter. Nothing else.