Not long ago, there was this massive TikTok craze on sea shanties. And while I don’t have a TikTok account, the ripple effects have reached me as well. What started as a shower thought after a founder recommended I gamify my advice to founders fundraising, well… turned into this. To the tune of Soon May the Wellerman Come:
There once was a team that put to sea The name of that team was Friends ‘N Me The winds blew hard, but growth tipped up O’, burn that midnight oil (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
She had not been two years from start When push became the pull we sought The founder called all hands and wrought The product to scale now (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
The servers’ now a right real mess We had to call the AWS They had us pay for more bandwidth But that’s okay with us (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
We’ve tripled our growth last year, oh yus With dollar retention as one cause When we were asked what it was We said ’twas one twenty (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
We’ve ten cust’mers that five of which Are referenceable you’ll find on pitch That one of which is kinda rich They’re paying hundy K (huh)
Soon may the investor fund To bring us money and help and some One day, when the term sheet’s done We’ll take the dough to grow
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
“Ego is about who is right. Truth is about what is right.” – Mike Maples Jr.
I distinctly remember reading this soundbite on page 64 years ago in Tim Ferriss‘ then-new book, Tribe of Mentors. With the recent string of world events over the past few months, I’m reminded once again of this line. It’s strange to think that our most available mentors come in the form of books. Yet, every time I realize this fact, I seem to stumble upon another Eureka moment.
I was a passively-rebellious kid growing up. Though not often, there were times I would swing left when my parents said right. High school, on the other hand, did not make it any easier for my parents. As if puberty was not enough, in high school speech and debate, I learned to play the devil’s advocate on nearly everything. Frankly, it didn’t matter if they were right or not. And in more times than I am willing to admit, I found myself in trouble for not heeding my parents’ advice. Physically. But more often, emotionally. I was just emotionally antagonistic to my own wellbeing. Something I was unwilling to admit for quite a while.
We live in an era where many debates have spiraled down the path of: “If I’m right, you’re wrong” or “If I’m wrong, you’re right.” But most issues – and I might even be as bold as to say, all issues – are not nearly as binary. Debates have become arguments rather than conversations. We fail to realize great constructive conversations are never zero sum. Socratic discussions lead to nuance and a spectrum of colors that are dimensionally vast. Many of us have chosen what is the easiest for us to swallow in that moment. That soundbites resonate more than 3-hour debate. We’ve turned our attention towards ephemeral efficiency rather than robust literacy. At the same time, we need to balance complexity with simplicity. Sometimes, matters aren’t as complicated as we make them out to be. Other times, they are and possibly more so.
Someone I deeply respect once told me. “The quality of your words are determined not by what comes out of your mouth, but by how much reaches another person’s ears.” Oddly enough, we fail to use our senses in the proportions nature gave to us. Two ears. One mouth. Yet, we often act as if we have two mouths and one ear. And I am not immune to that fact.
Over the years, due to the accumulation of scar tissue, I’ve learned to abstract who from what they are saying. When I hear advice, opinions or even facts from someone I am emotionally aloof or antagonistic with, I ask myself, if someone I deeply respect said the exact same thing, would I still be as averse as I am now?
If still so, why? What are my underlying assumptions to oppose such a claim?
Similarly, if someone I deeply respect (even blindly so) says something I agree with too quickly, would this piece of advice hold the same gravitas if it came from someone with little social capital?
Of course, the above is much easier when my inner weather isn’t hormonally turbulent. But when it is, I breathe deeply thrice. And ask myself the question again. And if still turbulent, then I repeat until I’m ready to face my own ego.
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Over the past few weeks, a number of people have independently asked me, “What do you hope to accomplish with your social experiments?” And “What are you hoping to solve through your social experiments?”
Usually when people ask, I say things like, “Helping the world feel a little smaller, closer, and a whole lot more meaningful.” Or “Helping strangers become friends in minutes.” While it’s all true, I came to that conclusion after I started. Yet, the real reason I started was simply out of curiosity. I didn’t have an end goal in mind. I didn’t have a hypothesis I was trying to prove. Frankly, I just had a yearning knowing I’d find answers, but not knowing what kind of answers I would find.
For the longest time, I felt pressured to give a reason. Particularly, one that was results-oriented. In a world, where outcomes speak for themselves, I felt that a genesis starting from pure open-ended curiosity wasn’t enough. The reasons I gave were less for others, but more for myself. This self-inflicted feeling of inadequacy. Infinitesimally small, but still lurking around.
“Be curious about everything. All walks of life. Arts, and sciences, technology, and the humanities. That’s what Steve Jobs did. He had one foot in the arts, another foot in technology, and he did not make a distinction between those two. That’s what Leonardo’s Vitruvian Man is about. It’s a work of art, and it’s a work of science, and he didn’t make a distinction between those two. And for Jennifer Doudna, she doesn’t make a great distinction between the life sciences and the humanities. And by being curious about all things, she’s about to see the patterns in nature.”
It’s funny that it took a message from someone else for it to resonate, no matter how many times I’ve told myself the same message. While I can’t even begin to compare my selfish curiosity to the greats of Doudna, Jobs or Da Vinci, but like them, I start from a state of open inquiry. I, a humble traveler, merely enjoy the meandering adventure my curiosity leads me on. As my French high school teacher used to say to us all the time, “Bon voyage!”
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
An investor I had recently been put in touch with asked me this past Monday if I like to write. I thought it was a peculiar question at first. But it strangely kept gnawing at me as the week went on. While I can’t say for certain that it was that investor’s intention, it became a forcing function for me to reflect on my motivations.
If you’ll believe it, I used to hate writing. With a capital H. I used to dread when a teacher or professor would assign us essay prompts for homework. Many of my college and high school friends can probably attest to that fact. More so, I was the world’s best procrastinator. Ok, “best” might be overselling myself. But I had a track record for deferring my 10-/20-page essay until the night before it’s due. It was the antithesis of fun. I knew exactly what my professors sought. All I had to do was put the puzzle pieces together. Frankly, writing was a necessity to survive my academic career, not one I’d seek out as a passion.
It wasn’t always that way. In elementary school, I loved writing poetry. An exploration of my inner creativity, unrestrained by the educator’s whip. I also took part in school poetry competitions. As time went on, writing lost its sparkle, between book reports and persuasive essays.
Before this one, I started two other blogs. Neither of which lasted past three months. Both of which I started back in college. Looking back no one asked me to start a blog, much less three blogs. But looking back, I attribute each time I started a blog to the professors I had. Particularly by their rare ability to make learning fun and contagious. It was much less the content of each class, but rather, the fact that we graduated each class armed not with just answers, but with two other faculties I found indispensable over the years:
The ability to ask nuanced questions,
And the ability to find answers and questions to answer those questions.
My senior year in college I had a third catalyst for writing. As you guessed, also inspired by my professor for a class I didn’t have many expectations for when I signed up, despite hearing glowing reviews from my friends. That year I began writing in journals every day. There is no catch. There are no cheat days. We just had to ideate at least once every day. No matter how long or how short it took, once a day keeps the demons away. At the same time, outside of a promise of commitment, there were no rules. There were no rubrics. No one would grade us on how and what we wrote. Full, uncontrolled creative liberty.
It took me about three months. Slowly, but surely, the spark returned. Over time, journaling evolved into blogging. The best part is I don’t even know what the next stage of my Pokemon evolution will look like. I won’t go in depth here on how I journal these days, but if you’recurious…
Over the past year, I’ve had an increasing number of friends and readers reach out to me and ask me how writing comes so easily to me. It sure didn’t in the larger arch of my life. And not, it doesn’t… not always at least. Some days it takes longer than others. But just like how I wake up and exercise first thing in the morning, journaling is a muscle I am training every day, if not multiple times a day. Whether it’s in my journal or on my Google Keep app or on a Notion page.
That said, I think I’m far less coherent as a speaker than as a writer. I’ve had friends and mentors tell me over the years in conversation, “David, you’re not making any sense.” Unfortunately, in more occasions than I would like, I have a feeling of cognitive dissonance when speaking, which I am actively working to mend. After all, I can only hide behind the veil of asynchronicity for so long. Ironically, I’ve been engaging in more and deeper synchronous conversations than asynchronous over the course of the pandemic.
Luckily, I also haven’t gotten writer’s block yet ever since I began this blog. But there have been certain weeks where I’ve been frustrated at the quality of my journal entries. Enough so, that it never makes it onto this blog. So it goes to say, I never run out of ideas; I just sometimes run out of ideas I think are nuanced enough to share. After all, it’s why I started the #unfiltered series. George Orwell once said, “If people cannot write well, they cannot think well. And if they cannot think well, others will do their thinking for them.”
In closing
I never started this blog with the intention of tracking viewership growth. But I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t grateful and elated to see the reception of some of my essays. On days when readers reach out and say thank you, I really believe the sky’s the limit. When I reach out to people I look up to and they mention in our conversation that they enjoy the content I write, I struggle to contain my smile.
My swim coach once asked me semi-rhetorically, “David, why d’ya like to swim?” To which he followed up and said, “You like to swim because you’ve won.” While in terms of numbers I’m still far from “winning”, this modest scope of reception so far only compounds upon my creative joy.
When I pursue any endeavor in my life, I always ask myself: Are there skills, relationships, and/or enjoyment I build that transcend the pure outcome of this endeavor? (Or two cousins of this question here and here.) For this blog, yes. And it boils down to three reasons:
I write to think. It’s a process of self-discovery. On the flip side of the same token, it’s to prevent my prefrontal cortex from atrophying.
Creative joy. There’s something just so satisfying when a blank canvas turns into a cohesive illustration of my mind’s entropy.
And knowing that, no matter how miniscule, it’s inflected a handful of people’s lives upwards. That, and knowing that every so often, somebody out there will smile as they read this.
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Over the years, the silver screen sure has mythologized the dropout founder – from Steve Jobs to Bill Gates to Mark Zuckerberg. While students who choose to dropout will continue to wow the world, and I believe it (otherwise, I wouldn’t be working with Danielle and Mike at 1517 Fund, if I didn’t), reality isn’t nearly as black and white. A Quora user requested my answer to this question recently. Why do business schools not make world class entrepreneurs? It presumed that great academic institutions, mainly B-schools, were no longer capable of minting world-class founders. Admittedly, it’s neither the first, nor will it be the last time I see or hear of it.
The MBA grads
I met a Fortune 100 executive last year who said that it was because of her Wharton MBA, that she catapulted her career in artificial intelligence and machine learning. Specifically, it was because of the research she did with her professor, Adam Grant, that led to opportunities and introductions down the road. On the same token, David Rogier of MasterClass met his first investor at the Stanford GSB. In fact, it was his business professor who wrote that first check, just under $500K.
Business schools are amazing institutions of learning, but admittedly most people go for the network and the brand. On the same note, I would never go as far as to say that business schools don’t mint world-class entrepreneurs. If we’re going by pure valuation, there’s a study that found a quarter of 2019’s top 50 highest valued startups had MBAs as founders.
And here are a few more founder names among many, not even including some of the most recognizable CEO names, like Satya Nadella (Microsoft), Tim Cook (Apple) and more.
Tony Xu and Evan Moore of Doordash
Michael Bloomberg of Bloomberg
Steve Hafner of Kayak
Aneel Bhusri and Dave Duffield of Workday
Jeremy Stoppelman of Yelp
Mark Pincus of Zynga
Having grit and having a business degree don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I work with founders who come from all manners of educational backgrounds: high school dropouts, college dropouts, BA/BSs, MBAs, PhDs, MDs, JDs, home schooled, and self-taught. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what kind of education someone has. What matters is what they do with the education.
What an Ivy League dean once told me
Back when I toured the US to decide which school to SIR (statement of intent to register) to, I met the dean of an Ivy League school. I thought he was going to spend our 20 minutes trying to convince me to come to his school. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “David, it doesn’t matter which school you choose to go to. While I would be honored to have you attend ours, what matters is what you do while you’re in school. You could choose to just take classes here or you could go to a CC, but choose to be a member of 5 clubs, 3 of which you take leadership positions in. And if I were to look at you in four years, I’d be prouder of the latter person you chose to become.”
Capping the risks you could take
When I graduated from Berkeley, I also came out with a certificate in entrepreneurship and technology. While I still believe to this day that no class can really teach one to be entrepreneurial, I learned quite a bit of the institutionalization around entrepreneurship – what exists in the ecosystem, some of the risks involved and how to hedge those bets. Yet, my greatest lessons on entrepreneurship didn’t came from a textbook. But rather, the risks I took outside the classroom. Because each time I made one, I internalized it.
To do great things, you have to first dream big and act on those big dreams. By definition, big dreams entail high degrees of risk. High risk, high reward. And with risk, you’ll make mistakes. So one of the rules I live by is that I will force myself to make mistakes – many mistakes – more than I can count. But my goal is to make each mistake at most once. Jeff Bezos once said, “If you can’t tolerate critics, don’t do anything new or interesting.”
Equally so, there’s a joke that Andy Rachleff, founder of Wealthfront and Benchmark, shares with the class he teaches at the Stanford GSB. While it pertains to VCs, I find it analogous to founders and mistakes, “What do you call a venture capitalist who’s never lost money on an investment?”
“Unemployed.”
But, what institutionalized academia does help you with is provide you a platform to make mistakes. Without the downside. Capped downsides, but it’s up to you, the student, to realize what could be the uncapped upside. Last month I chatted with a VC, who works at a top 10 firm. Our conversation eventually spiraled into her MBA at the Stanford GSB. There she took on projects that put her on the streets talking and building products for potential customers. Her professors taught her the hustle, but it was up to her to apply her learnings. While she chose the VC path after, her experience led her to become a trusted advisor to founders while she was still in school.
In closing
Similarly, world-class entrepreneurs aren’t decided by which school they go to, or lack thereof, but how and why they choose to spend the days, weeks, and years of the short time they have on Earth. And where they practice their entrepreneurial traits.
I would be pretentious to say that you should get an MBA if you want to be founder. Or that you should dropout if you want to be one. If we’re to look at the cards on the table, MBAs are expensive. A $200K investment. Almost half of what might be your pre-seed round. But I can’t tell you if it’s a great investment or not, nor should I. For an MBA, or for that matter, any higher education. I pose the two extremes – MBA (or a PhD too) and a dropout – as I presume most of our calculi’ fall somewhere in-between. Instead, I can merely pair with you with the variables and possible parameters that may be helpful towards your decision. So, I’ll pose a question: Are there rewards you seek in the process rather than just in the outcome (of an MBA/higher education)?
In other words, are there skills, relationships, gratitude, entertainment, and/or peace of mind you build in the journey that transcend the outcome of your decision on the future of your education?
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If you’re a regular on this blog, you’re probably no stranger to my essays on cold emails – whether it’s my cold outreach mental model or lessons from replying to spam emails or how I write longer cold emails as opposed to shorter. Yet, I recently realized I’ve shared my thoughts on the pre-game and the game itself, but I’ve yet to write on the post-game. So this essay is dedicated to exactly that. What do you do after you send that initial cold email?
The short answer: If you want to stand out, always follow up. To quote my good friend, Christen on her TikTok, where she shares amazing soundbites of career advice and networking.
The longer answer
I met a founder once who emailed an executive at Disney every business day for almost one year, minus ten days. The caveat is at the top of every daily email he wrote, “If you want me to stop, I will.” Almost a year after he began, the executive took the meeting. And Disney is now one of this startup’s biggest customers.
I met another founder a few years ago, who retweeted tweets from a Forbes’ Midas 100 VC every week for three months, while including his own constructive commentary each time. So, when this founder began his fundraise three months later, this VC set up a meeting with that founder within two hours of the cold email, first thanking the founder for his thoughts over the past few months.
Garry Tan and Apoorva Mehta have bothshared this story publicly. Apoorva, founder of Instacart, back in 2012, wanted to apply to Y Combinator. Unfortunately, he was applying two months late. So he reached out to all the YC alum he knew to get intros to the YC partners. He just needed one to be interested. But after every single one said no, Garry, then a partner at YC, wrote: “You could submit a late application, but it will be nearly impossible to get you in now.”
For Apoorva, that meant “it was possible.” He sent an application and a video in, but Garry responded with another “no” several days later. But instead of pushing with another email and another application, Apoorva decided to send Garry a 6-pack of beer delivered by Instacart. So that Garry could try out the product firsthand. 21st Amendment’s Back in Black, to be specific. In the end, without any precedent, Instacart was accepted. And the rest is history.
So, what is the common thread here?
As my friend once told me, “It’s not hard to be persistent. Most people can easily be. But most people aren’t persistent AND considerate.” Persistence is keeping your promises to yourself. Being considerate is respecting and keeping your promises to others – explicit and implicit. Explicitly, if you say you’re going to do something, do it. Implicitly, understand the social context, their schedule, their cognitive load. One of the lines I always add at the bottom (or sometimes at the top) of my cold outreaches:
“I know you get a hundred emails a day, and if you don’t have any time to respond, I completely understand.”
To take that one step further, sometimes you’re reasonably confident they won’t have time to respond. Big life or career events may make it hard for them to respond, like:
New baby/paternity/maternity leave
New publication
Recently did a (podcast) interview
Released some version of viral content (i.e. YouTube video, TikTok, Clubhouse, Twitter, etc.)
Founder raising a new round
Upcoming product launch they’re a key player in
VC raising a new fund
Shit hit the fan
Anything else the press is actively writing about
If that is your assumption, I add in one more line:
“If you don’t have time to respond, I’ll follow up one week [or whatever other timeframe] from today.”
And once you’ve said it, do it. To save you the time to draft up a follow up email a week later, a hack I use is to just write that follow up email as soon as you send the first email. Then schedule it to send a week from the day you sent the first. Make sure that each follow-up email isn’t the exact same. Show updates on what you learned, found, or thought about, as well as additional value to the person you’re reaching out to. While this hack is the bare minimum of what you can do to follow up, this should never be the ceiling. 9 out of 10 times I find myself going back, cancelling the send, updating the email with my learnings, then re-scheduling it.
Follow up at least twice after you send the initial cold email. But be understanding of their circumstances. And of course, never overstay your welcome. Understand the difference between a soft “no” and a hard “no”. In the circumstances of a soft “no”, recognize the variables that led to it. And reach back out when those variables are not in play, or to your best guess.
In closing
I met a brilliant founder years ago who, at the time, scaled his business to 100 employees, and he told me something that resonates with me till this day. “You can only learn from experience, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be yours.” Though I learned of his saying a few years after, it summarizes why I started my 6-year at least once a week cold outreach streak. To learn vicariously through others’ experiences. And if that was and is the impetus, it’d be a shame if I didn’t see it through to the best of my ability. ‘Cause if I was gonna give up after just sending one email, why start?
As Ron Swanson once said, “Never half-ass two things; whole-ass one thing.” So if you’re gonna start with the first email, you might as well send the next two. If the first shot doesn’t swish, catch the rebound and shoot again. Persistence. And ideally rebound thoughtfully.
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I’ve been a long time fan of Naval Ravikant, so when he went on Clubhouse recently to share his thoughts, despite not having an iPhone (I know ?), I had to find a way to tune in. While Clubhouse is designed to be the ephemeral demystification of the broader world, there are a rarified few conversations I believe are and should be evergreen. Naval’s happens to be one of them. Whether Clubhouse itself compiles these knowledge banks or through some third-party service, we already have listeners and Clubhouse users recording these conversations. A temporary hack that paves the way for a broader solution.
Over the weekend, I found Naval’s definition of purpose to be one of the best I’ve heard to date:
“You have to live up to your own moral code. Your life is an eternal single-player game. You’re not competing against anybody else; you’re competing against yourself. You set your own desires and your goals. You have your own perspective. You have your own morality. And you have to live up to it.
“There is no standard meaning or purpose. If there was a single purpose or meaning for all of us, then we’d all be slaves to that single purpose. We’d all be robots – every one of us fighting each other in conflict to get to that one purpose. And there’s not even a single purpose for you necessarily, other than the one that you create. So, you get to create your meaning and purpose. You get to craft your own story here. […]
“It is a race, but you’re just running against yourself. You pick the finish line; you pick the goal line; you pick the meaning; you pick the purpose. So you can pick a meaning or purpose that is antithetical to happiness, or one that aligns with it.”
A month ago, my friend and I watched Pixar’s Soul. In it, the writers illustrated a powerful lesson on life’s inspiration. As Jerry enlightens Joe, that distilling your whole life into a singular purpose is “so basic”, Joe enlightens Soul 22, “your spark isn’t your purpose. The last box fills in when you’re ready to come live.” To live means to enjoy and savor every minute, every second, the entire 24-hour day, all 365 days of the year, and every year we are alive and breathing. Not just, and I’m generalizing here, the 40-100-hour workweeks. Joy and purpose, after all, was never meant to measured as a unit of time alone.
Many of us live life looking for our purpose in life – a singular destination. A singular raison d’être. We compartmentalize our entire lives into self-prescribed labels. In high school, it was either by our grades or our extracurriculars. In college, by our majors. In our adult life, by our job title. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m willing to bet that most, if not all people, are more robust than just their full-time roles make them out to be. Just like I’m more than a VC Scout. That’s why I’m so fascinated by polymaths in our society.
In opening our minds to a world beyond a single degree of freedom, we give ourselves more surface area to find inspiration and happiness. As Tim Ferriss once said, “It is not that beauty is hard to find; it’s that it is easy to overlook.”
Equally so, his rhetoric on passion is equally as provocative. Or specifically, the relationship between your passion/obsession (more on obsession here and here) and domain expertise. The latter, as Naval calls it, “specific knowledge”:
“How do you gain specific knowledge? It’s almost a catch 22. Specific knowledge is built up by you through your passions. So, when they say follow your passion, it’s kind of what they mean. It doesn’t always lead to money, but it can. Because if you’re obsessive about something and learning it for your own genuine intellectual curiosity – not to get a degree, not to make money, not to impress your friends – you’re going to end being better at it than anybody else. So, I really believe that you should only read and engage in activities that you genuinely enjoy. And you should cultivate your intellectual obsessions without any goal that you may be surprised when you look back and connect the dots later that one of them developed into a goal. One of the hallmarks of specific knowledge is that it will feel like play to you, but it will look like work to others. So, anything that fits that model, you should develop. […]
“You get what you want out of life. You just have to want it badly enough. If it’s your all-consuming desire, you will get it. You will create the path to the destination no matter what it takes.”
Naval’s encyclopedic answers asked underscored once again a question I ask myself when I am the most lost:
What would I do if, at the end of the day, I would be only one applauding myself?
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
As I’m gearing up for a few projects, I spent the last few weeks pondering on a number of questions. And to stress test those questions, I spent the greater half of that time asking the people around me. But in the process of doing so, I found 10 of the above questions sponsored the most self-inquiry within myself and others.
The Questions
Elad Gil, legendary angel investor, said in an interview late last year that “every startup needs to have a single miracle… If your startup needs zero miracles to work, it probably isn’t a defensible startup. If your startup needs multiple miracles, it probably isn’t going to work.” Was there a defining miracle, when preparation met opportunity, that got you to where you are today?
Similarly: Life is some percent skill and effort and some percent of luck. How much has luck contributed to get you to where you are today?
In 2005, a Yahoo! Exec once told the Alexis Ohanian, founder of Reddit, that they were a “rounding error” which Alexis then framed on the company wall as motivation. Have there been chapters of your life that were defined by strong opposition – externally or internally – and your ambition to prove them wrong?
Pat Riley, Hall of Famer basketball coach, wrote in his book, The Winner Within, “You don’t wanna be the best at what you do; you wanna be the only one who does what you do.” What skills, experience, or mental models do you have where you are the only person – or in extremely rarified air – who can do what you do?
Quoting Jerry Colonna in his book Reboot, how are you complicit in creating the conditions you say you don’t want?
Norman Vincent Peale, author of the bestseller, The Power of Positive Thinking, once said, “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” Entrepreneurs are people who pursue impossible odds and enjoy the journey of shooting for the moon to become world-class athletes. Telling them no is like telling a 7-year old they can’t become an NBA All-Star. Odds are they’re not going to succeed, but the process of pursuing that goal makes it worthwhile. And in doing so, they become a stronger, more resilient individual than never trying to pursue it in the first place. In your life, what have you done or would you do regardless of the outcome of the pursuit?
Andy Rachleff, founder of Wealthfront and Benchmark, once said in an interview: “If we’re batting a thousand or close to a thousand, we’ve done a really poor job.” If your probability of success is really high, the likelihood of a big win is extremely low. To win and not just focus on not losing, you have to take big risks. And as per the definition of risk, you’re more likely to fail. Have you had a failure in your life that contributed the most to where you are today?
On the same token, have there been alleged setbacks turned out to be a blessings in disguise? Or, were there “misfortunes” that turned out to be fortunes?
Let’s say life is a game blackjack. If the first card you drew represents your journey prior to 2020 – face up – and the second card exemplifies your life from 2020 till now – face down, which two cards did you draw? And would you continue “hitting” knowing the hand you’re dealt?
I saw in a Quora thread once, “When you are happy you enjoy the music, but when you are sad you understand the lyrics.” When you were in your lowest of lows, were there words, phrases, or lessons that had profoundly new meaning to them?
Desmond Tutu, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984, once said, “My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.” So, to borrow his words, what are the common themes between moments you’ve given up your humanity, either individually or collectively?
What is the narrative that you find most compelling when your inner weather is the most turbulent?
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away. – Maya Angelou
Year 24 was a mediocre year. I was too ambitious, having made my birthday resolution public for the first time the year before. Not in the sense I tried to bite off more than I could chew. But in the sense, I lost focus. In trying to focus on everything, I focused on nothing. In my pursuit of hitting all the marks, I became mediocre at all of them.
Don’t get me wrong. Despite the pandemic, which may have hindered some of my goals, namely:
Getting two startups from 0 to 1 in a year,
And sleeping earlier,
… I did “succeed” in all of my other endeavors. Frankly, some hit, some missed. Nevertheless, I didn’t become stellar in any one of them. Looking back, I’m almost embarrassed to say any of my resolutions were defining of my 24th year being alive on this planet.
So, no concrete compartmentalized goals this year. I will be living day-to-day with one goal in mind: I have to seriously impress myself at least twice this year. While I may not have “actionable” goals to head towards this year, in order to impress myself, I have to, what some might call, “risk it for the biscuit.” I have to take leaps of faith. I have to be willing to try and fail and try and fail. Because without trying and taking risks, I know for a fact, I can and will never impress myself.
Of course this goal is subject to change, although I imagine not by much. The past year has taught me how unpredictable our future is. Who am I to predict what I will do the rest of this year when even the best fortune tellers and professional investors cannot forecast with certainty what will happen next week. Be it $GME or the pandemic, I’m sure life will constantly throw us curveballs we will never be able to forecast. But that’s exactly why living is fun. The future is not the present we are gifted, but one we chase not knowing what’ll come of it. And the gift is in the adventure.
I quoted James Stockdale – for which the Stockdale paradox is named after – in a post last year, “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end – which you can never afford to lose – with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they may be.”
To confront myself and the most brutal facts of today, I will take the risks that will mold who I am tomorrow. The discipline of saying yes. It’s not about my batting average, but about the magnitude of the home runs I can get.
I’m confident that this year, I will continue many of the habits I picked up in the past year – writing weekly, exploring creative projects regularly, etc. But I won’t hold myself to promises that’ll lead me to mediocre, or at best, good, results. But rather, like in venture, I have to be willing to pass on the ‘good’ to make way for the ‘great’.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Over the past few months, I’ve been slowly experimenting with how I can take Hidden Questions online, while not sacrificing the intimacy of the relationships it builds as well.
Hidden Questions started as a question game I played with friends and colleagues, which eventually expanded to other strangers. The goal of which was to deepen our friendship within minutes rather than weeks, months, or even years. In sum, a game where each person has to answer the question truthfully, but is not required to reveal what the question is. The catch is that if the person decides to conceal the question, they have to take a “punishment” (i.e. crazy hot sauce, disgusting foods, durian, Beanboozled jelly beans, etc.). Before they decide to or not, other participants can ask clarifying questions, as long as it’s not “Is X the question?”, and bet additional units of “punishment” if the answeree chooses to conceal the question. Of course, if the answeree does reveal, the people who bet will take the “punishment” instead.
After over 30 sessions in the past 3 months, a few things have been hotfixed since the in-person game:
One-time perishable links – While not the be all end all, vua.sh lets us create a “secret messages” where only the people with the link can access the question – and only once. Once the link is opened once, it’s dead. So, this gives folks a peace of mind knowing that no one can go back and find out what the questions are. The people who create these questions are the last group/individuals who play.
One-slide Powerpoint presentations, reminiscent of Jeopardy, with increasing risk/depth factor of questions, scaling punishments with question difficulty/depth.
Mailing the “punishments” to the people I’m playing with, like Sean Evans and his team does for their show, Hot Ones, where they mail their 10 hot sauces to their guest before the interview. This way, I can keep people accountable to the punishments
Zoom, or an equivalent web conferencing tool – Social distancing at its best. Even better now, ’cause I get to play with people outside the Bay Area as well.
