Dynamic Hypocrisy

Last year, I was batting zero. I was interviewing in LA, and failing them hard. All of them. I’d get pass the recruiter just fine. But then run into a designer or director, and just dropping the ball. 

I couldn’t figure out why. It was killing my confidence as a designer. 

People were consoling me, finding excuses or downplaying things I pointed out. But I knew. I was off. 

And it took me awhile to put my finger on it: I was trying to date while desperate. 

Like it appears all normal. Dinner, small talk, drinks, etc. but there was always something off. There was a low-key funk to it all. 

The thing being that I was dating not to be lonely, rather than dating because I liked the person. They almost didn’t matter, they were a thing to transform into the thing I thought I wanted. 

That was happening with these interviews. I wasn’t trying to figure out if I had a connection with these companies. I was just trying to find something better than my current situation. And people could tell. It underpinned my tone and presentation. I brought a lot of extra baggage, and was hoping they would magically fix it for me. 

Fast-forward to last month. After quitting that job, traveling, rebuilding my website, and traveling to a brand new city — I managed to find a job in a month. I didn’t drastically change from the year before. I didn’t add huge sexy big projects to my website.

But my focus was sharper. I had clear ideas of what I wanted out of my day job. So when I interviewed I honed into that. 

Do y’all go home at 6, or at 10? Can I learn from the senior staff? Are the projects fast and dirty? Will y’all let me do code and UX, rather than UX and UI and research? 

Yes? Cool. No? Sorry, I’m looking at other opportunities. 

It felt worlds apart from before. 

As what I want out of dating…um, lemme get back to you on that one. My mom’s been waiting for that blog post too. 

The first time I went to a networking event, I walked in, looked around, and then left. 

I was 22, and looking to meet other designers. A profession I didn’t fully understand beyond “I have an art degree, but want to get paid. Design feels like paid art. I’ll do that.”

I remember being so nervous about it. I didn’t know how to approach anyone. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t recall even having business cards ready. 

Fast-forward three years later, I’m on their event planning committee, the full-time volunteer photographer, and attending every event. I even started a game where I’d try to leave with five business cards every event. 

It was series of fortunate events that led me there. But the first one was visualizing. 

Specifically imagining myself as the other person. Like what if I was already at the event, standing around and chatting with a friend. Then suddenly a stranger with a name tag taps me on the shoulder, and says “Hi.” 

What would I do?

Would I punch them in the face? Would I laugh and crack insults at them with my buddy? Would I blow up their car? 

Nah, I’d say “hi” back and then find out more about them. 

Oh.

I’d just say “hi” back. That’s the worst that could happen if I approached a stranger at a networking event. For me that realization defused the drama of talking to strangers (at least in that context. I still walk briskly on empty streets at night.) 

“I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.” ― Mitch Hedberg

I think about that when I think about having existential crises. And yet I’ve been trying to put my finger on why they seem less dominating than they were in the past. 

I suppose it’s experience. Simply being older, and having enough setbacks and events is enough to kind of dampen the baseline a bit.

The flip probably factors in too. Having a number of successes, and enough people go “nah, you’re doing pretty good.” lends a bit of validation against the worst case. 

But I wonder if I’m handling those anxious moments better. I think I’m recognizing them sooner and clearer these days. Which is the first step. 

Also, I think i’m getting better at “time-boxing” them. Which feels..fake when I write that. Being able to “control” my anxiety makes it seem as if it was false to begin with. 

But I really do like the “Internal Family Systems Model” that I was introduced to years ago. I don’t always practice it well, but it’s really helpful to my type of brain to have a way of visualizing and framing the thoughts in my head.

That the anxiety isn’t “me” per se, but just a part of me. And all parts of me are just trying to help. On top of that is that I’m allowed to politely decline the help. 

The last time I had a really bad episode it was in the middle of the night. My brain was racing so fast, it felt like a race car when the driver floors the accelerator. It was running so hot that I got physically warm. I couldn’t sleep at all. 

But knowing “it” was trying to help me with a problem, I let it run. I went to the other room on the couch, opened up my journal app on my phone, and just started typing. I didn’t try to resist or process any one thought. I just wrote them down as fast I could. 

Maybe ten minutes later, the typing slowed down. “Is that everything?” I asked. 

A moment passes. I re-read what I wrote. I frowned, but then closed the app. And then just sat there for awhile. It was then I could slip into bed, and fall asleep. 

I know I took some of those things and turned them into goals to work on, and some others as topics to talk to people about. But as I sit here seven months later, I almost completely forgot that it happened. It actually wasn’t even until tonight that I thought of it, to even find the entry to re-read it. 

It’s remarkable how it reads like a different person. Not to say I’m a changed man or it was a dissociative moment. It’s definitely me in there. But in the hot mess, it was the mix of small and big problems. And I spent the last seven months picking at them as I’ve been able to. 

I think it was really helpful to take that pure overwhelming feeling, and translate them into words that night. Because that made the feeling tangible. And when that part of me was done sounding alarms and pointing at potential fires. The other parts of me, the analytical, the communicative could take over in the following months to fix them. 

Was it great that I had a night of insomnia feeling like I’d explode? No, but it was part of a larger process to deal with things I hadn’t yet recognized as things to deal with. Of which, I’m pretty stoked about. To have a process. 

I probably could include the Past, but can’t let them titles get too long. 

A friend was getting those pangs of anxiety from thinking about the future, and asked if I get them. Hah, I eat pangs of existential dread for breakfast I say.

But I’m also acknowledging that it isn’t a healthy indulgence, and looking into what I can do with it. 

If I’m allowed to overly extend the “Internal Family Systems Model” where the mind is spit into sub-personalities. (Think Pixar’s “Inside Out”) I then can treat “future thinking anxiety” as like a co-worker or a tool. He’s just trying to help, but in his very specific and particular way. 

There’s no malice or ill-intent to him. Just a simple instinct to assist by…bringing all possible futures to you all at once. 

Like when your pet cat brings you a dead bird. You didn’t need a dead bird, but it’s a sweet gesture. 

So whenever I see someone with existential pangs about the future. I resist the conventional advice of “shake it off, live in the moment!” Because that is also sort like co-worker, or a different cat that brings dead mice instead.

For me right now, the latter cat lets me simmer down and enjoy parts of the day as it comes. But the former cat lets me ruminate and start setting plans. 

Both are useful in their respective moments. 

The hard part is knowing which one to use at which part of the day/life.

Let’s say right this very moment, it’s revealed that there’s been a secret supercomputer that’s been making music. Not just generated weird computer-y music. But like music-music. Whole legit songs. 

Not only that, but it made every song. Like all of them. 

Every possible lyric combination in every possible genre with every possible vocal and instrumental arrangement in every key, pitch and timbre. All of them. 

There are no exceptions. If it made a song that sounded like T-Pain, then it also made a version where T-Pain sang it live in Madison Square Garden. And also a version where T-Pain was in the studio, but had a cold. Then there’s a remix where it’s T-Pain live in Madison Square Garden and still has that cold. 

One more thing, the supercomputer just uploaded all of these songs to Spotify and every other platform out there.

Everyone’s is about to wake up to having a library of music that literally has every possible song ever.

So…for the musician, bleary eyed from sleep, after getting up from bed, after drinking their coffee, and after they check their phone to find out about what just happened…(note: in the last 40 seconds, the supercomputer just uploaded 321,389 new songs about the last 40 seconds that just elapsed), and now after they walk over to their piano, and sits down:

What song does this musician write?

“Should someone be compensated for labor they performed for a company?” Yes/No?

“Should someone be paid for writing a restaurant review to a free platform?” Yes/No?

“Are the previous two questions the same?” Yes/No?

“Should Grandma be required to pay you a dollar if she asks for a place to eat in your neighborhood?” Yes/No?

I thought I’d just write about the first two questions. But I added the grandma one at the last second because it’s interesting to me.

The internet has done a fantastic job of blurring a lot of social norms and constructs. The line between news reportage and editorial (24-hour news cracked the levy) Writing and talking (like what is instant messaging anyways?) Performer and audience (live streaming gets weird fast) 

But it also hasn’t touched some because it’s lacked the representation of some social constructs. Or at least the nuanced forms it can take in the physical world. 

Say like non-monetary exchanges between two persons. Sure there’s likes, or hearts, or chat histories. And I’m not here to belittle a virtual marriage in World of Warcraft or Facebook, but at the same time, the internet hasn’t fully rendered my ongoing relationship of memories, feelings, and social ties between my grandma and I either, you know?

But what if we get there? That the digital fabric we live in gets granular and precise enough to track beyond dollars, likes, and bitcoins? But to include moments of goodwill, notions of karma, and generation of new emotion? 

Can we at that point properly compensate everyone for their participation and the additive construction of our internet? Does it all get boiled down to one currency? Or is there multiple currencies that get dispensed depending on the relevant parties?

Does Tim the local coffee fiend, Jeni’s Neighborhood Coffee Shop, and Teri who just moved into town all exchange simple information and good will? 

Does it change when it’s Timothy the coffee expert, Starbucks, and Têrï the famed Instagram model? Does it shift to all dollars at that point? Why? Why not? Is “eyeballs and views” a currency onto itself? 

Or do we all remember entropy, and that everything ends up as the dead background heat of the universe, and that the only currency was only the fleeting energy of a Big Bang from long ago anyways?  ¯_(ツ)_/¯

In the orthodoxy of Inbox Zero, years ago I broke off and formed my own church of “Inbox Zero-ish”

There isn’t the vengeful god of floods and locusts, but a god of forgiveness and honesty. 

Pretty simple. If you see an email, and can’t properly handle it right now — snooze it away. And be honest with the time frame. If it’s in two hours, two days, or two weeks, it’s all good. No judgement here. If you can quickly dispatch it well now, then by all means deal with it. And if you look deep in your heart, and know you can’t or won’t deal with it, well, archive it. Don’t just boot it to next week, and then again to next week. Let its soul go to heaven. 

People now presume that your inbox should be empty with this, but mine rarely is. And that’s okay.

What’s usually in my inbox a bundle of things that should be my current focus anyways. Usually the current project, or if it’s my personal inbox — the list of errands and events for today. 

It’s helpful for me to see say the tickets for the show, or the flight time for the trip. I’m Type A but forgetful, so these visual cues actually relieves some stress. 

As for work, it’s nice to have quick access to relevant conversations or access to assets when dealing with a project. 

And what about the deluge that comes in while you’re working? Reply, kick it, or kill it as you would. Or if it’s relevant to your day, then let it linger. It’s okay, that’s where the “ish” comes in. But that’s where honesty becomes really important. 

Whatever the weight of that email may carry, hanging emotional baggage like stress onto it isn’t gonna help you in any sense. 

This has been the first Book of Inbox Zero-ish. The Second Book of Revelations includes scheduling well-timed reminders about sending notes as social etiquette requires, chores, and things to think about to your future self. 

I remember a moment where Final Destination, a thriller-type movie series where everyone dies, was in the news. They were having an interactive experience in the theatre where movie-watchers could choose how some of the characters would die. Basically a multiple choice quiz during movie.

Colliding that with fanfic, a sub-culture that rewrites and reimagines and extends the plotline and mythos of other creative works, I think about personalized movies. But beyond waiting for a remake or sequel to get what you want. Rather, I see a film studio prepping constraints around a particular plot line like which actors can be associated with that film. Then on “release day” movie-goers pay for a ticket, and a film would be dynamically generated to their tastes. 

Don’t like Ben Affleck? Swap the lead role with Matt Damon, and all the dialogue and scenes would be re-generated with Matt. Or don’t care for either? Well, Priyanka Chopra allowed for her image and likeness to be used in this production, so just put her in instead. 

A little CGI, and a little AI–this customization could scale without needing to reshoot anything. The AI would pick up the quirks you expect from a Christopher Walken but as mediated by a particular direction. A Baz Luhrmann versus a Spike Jonze versus a Wes Anderson. 

For a nominal fee, your friends can watch your version. If it gets popular enough, they send you a t-shirt and poster for your social media impact.

So headphones dongles.

I’m gonna bring that up, but not really talk about them.

Because there’s a broader topic in my head. Technology is evolving seemingly faster than ever. Growing up as a gamer in high school, there was a general pulse of new hardware 8-10 months? But you could get away with not upgrading for 14-16 months? (Being poor like me meant you just imagined upgrading every 14-16 months.) 

But now entire paradigms seem be shifting every few years. Mobile computing straight-up snuck up on me. I still remember the folly of Nintendo’s Virtual Boy, but do I have to take the Oculus seriously…? Or does Snapchat’s AR lenses portent something subtle shifting (I think it does.) 

This is beyond just a new graphics card from back in my high school days. (Hell, cryptocurrency and AI crunching just completely redefined what a “graphics card” even does now.)

And while many would loathe be called “anti-progress.” There’s a learning curve and cost to everything around us changing. Well, there always was, but it’s not like Farmer Bob had to relearn what a horse was every year. “Hooves? That’s too fancy.” “Why does this one have wings?!” 

So how much should a customer base be burdened to and have pay the costs of moving forward?

I think about Apple in this context. They’ve made a name for themselves in ease of use, and being the most intuitive. But they’ve also been known to make drastic calls for change. 

Removing the floppy drive, the CD drive, the changeover from OS 9 to OS X, expansion of phone models in their collection, etc.

And most recently, the headphone jack. 

Under this context, I don’t mind this recent decision as much. I see the opinionated future they propose, and I sorta like it. But that isn’t forgo the fact that it’s a painful transition. 

And that’s where I see Apple tarnishing their first reputation for the latter. They seem to be making too many bets into leaning forward that while the UX within their ideal scenario is rather pleasant (wireless Airpods, management-less cloud backup)…the UX for anyone even just a step behind gets rough really quick (dongles for days, old USB cords, I can’t plug my phone into my laptop??) 

In a global economy and ecosystem, there feels of tension of workers being cogs in a giant machine. Overworked and easily forgotten. 

The focus of the lens is ever-twisting for me. There’s a fundamental feeling of the individual as the sacred. That each person is to be agent of choice-making and receiver of idolization. 

But I think about how often a kidney cell envies a heart cell. We respect the individual, but the individual consists of a system of nameless workers. 

So there’s a system-level view of the world where the overall ecosystem is the unit of choice-making and receiver of idolization. It feels wrong on personal level, but it’s an interesting thought experiment.