DGQ 11: Was the David from a month ago laughably stupid?

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Was the David from a month ago laughably stupid?

I’m a big fan of self-deprecating humor, but this isn’t one of those moments. Rather it’s a learning moment. While the above question is a lagging indicator for personal growth, it nevertheless deserves to be measured. After all, as the great Peter Drucker would say, you cannot manage what you cannot measure.

The timeframe of evaluation

Why a month? Why not a week? Or not a year?

In the business world, there’s a concept called the rule of 72. Effectively, 72 divided by the growth rate is the time it takes to double. For instance, if you’re growing 30% month-over-month, 72 divided by 30 is 2.4. So, if you’re growing revenue at 30% every month, you’re going to double your revenue in roughly two and a half months.

It is equally as analogous for personal growth.

time it takes to shock yourself = 72 / rate of learning

Let’s say you’re a first-time founder, and you only knew 10 things about how to start a business. But every day, you learn one more thing – via podcasts, articles, blogs, classes, you name it. Give or take a 10% growth rate. You will double your knowledge in about a week. Hopefully enough to shock the you from a week prior. Or take another example, many self-help books ask you to commit to getting 1% better every day. Assuming you consistently do that, you would have doubled your experience in about 2.5 months.

That goes to say, the faster you want to grow, the shorter the timeframe should be for you to look back and reflect on your “stupidity.” For me, it is in my nature to be hungry for knowledge, and I really love learning about things I thought I knew and what I didn’t know. For now, as learning is a top priority for me, a month sounds like a reasonable timeframe to shock myself. I also use the term “stupidity” lightly and with notes of self-deprecating love.

The shock factor

But how do you measure personal growth? Something rather intangible. It isn’t a number like revenue or user acquisition. Some people might have a set of resolutions or goals that is tangible and quantitative – say read two books a month or exercise an hour four days a week. Great goals, but they are often based on the assumption that movement is progress. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, but neither are they synonymous. The former – movement – lacks retrospection.

There were, are, and will be days, weeks, and months, we may just be busy. Our schedule is packed. We’re a duck paddling furiously underwater. And we’re gasping for air. And while our body and mind are exhausted, our body and mind have not expanded. I know I’m not alone when I think to myself, “Wow, I did a lot, but I still feel like I’m not moving anywhere.”

Our brains are unfortunately also poor predictors of the future. We use past progress as indicators of future progress. But while history often rhymes, it does not repeat. Our predictions end up being guesstimates at best.

So I look into the past. I measure my own personal growth emotionally – by shock, very similar to how Tim Urban measures progress of the human race (which I included at the end of a previous essay). I don’t know what the future will hold and neither will I make many predictions of what the future will hold for me. If I knew, I’d have made a fortune on the stock market already, in startups, or on crypto already. What I can commit to is my relentless pursuit of taking risks, making mistakes, and trying things that scare the bejesus out of me. Since only by making new mistakes will I grow as a person. What I am equipped with now can be mapped out by the scar tissue I’ve accumulated.

Coming full circle, what’ll make me realize and appreciate my mistakes and failures more is knowing that as a greenhorn I was laughably stupid.

But if, in retrospect, David from a month ago sounds like quite the sensible person, my growth will have gone from exponential to linear. Or worse, flatlined.

For founders

And now that I’m thinking aloud – or rather, writing aloud (which may deserve its indictment into the #unfiltered series), this might be a great line of questions to ask founders as well.

As a founder, what was the last dumb thing you did? When was that?

And before that, what was the second most recent dumb thing you did?

And the third most recent?

There’s the commonly repeated saying in the venture world. Investors invest in lines, not dots. Two’s a line. Three’s a curve. I want to see how fast you’ve been growing and learning.

Why such a question?

  1. If we’re in it for the long run, I wanna assess how candid and self-aware you are. Pitch meetings often depict a portrait of perfection. But founders, like all humans, aren’t perfect. For that matter, neither are investors.
  2. Venture capital is impatient capital. We demand aggressive timelines, and honestly, quite toxic to most people in the world. Given that, if you’re going to learn how to hustle after investors invest, you’re going to have a tough time convincing investors. But if the hustle is already in your DNA, that bias to action lends much better to the venture model.

Photo by Peter Lloyd on Unsplash


Thank you to V. who inspired this blogpost.


The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.


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#unfiltered #53 A Different Way To Count

I have this conception of a personal Hall of Fame. For every piece of content, individual, and or experience in my life that has drastically changed the way I live or the way I think about life. Upon entrance, I find myself facing three large corridors – each adorned with text in Garamond font, framed in the corpse of a giant oak tree. In the corridor to the left, it’s the “Content Hall”. Arguably, the most competitive of the three halls to get into.

I only meet so many individuals in my life. I would say somewhere on the magnitude of tens of thousands. To pick tens of individuals among 10,000 is a 0.1-0.2% chance of induction.

The same is true for experiences. Excluding my daily habits of sleeping, eating, and others that have become second nature, there are very few extraordinary experiences among the ordinary. And in pursuing something extraordinary over a prolonged duration, that something extraordinary becomes ordinary to you. So, over time, you end up regressing into a step-wise function of finding the extraordinary in the extraordinary. To choose from a select few of these extraordinary in the extraordinary experiences at various learning curve spurts leaves an even smaller sample size.

Yet the same can’t be said for content. We consume a plethora of content on a daily basis. From obvious content drops, like YouTube, books, shows, and podcasts, to the non-obvious, such as emails, conversations, street signs, and opportunities that make you pause in the buzz of daily life. With tons of constant inputs from multi-directional sources, picking the handful that has altered your life’s course has a far lower acceptance rate than being struck by lightning.

For me, one of the greatest pieces that exists in my “Content Hall” is The Tail End by Tim Urban. There are a multitude of great anecdotes in it, but my favorite of which is, by the time we turn 18 years old, we’d already have spent at least 90% of our time with our parents.

Presidents

Say I live to 90 years old. In my lifetime, I get to see 22 US presidential terms. 22 presidents max, but many presidents hold office for two terms rather than just one term. There’ve been 46 presidents in the history of the United States so far. 21 of which served two terms. For ease of calculation, there’s about a 50% chance that any president will hold office for two terms. That’s 16 presidents, give or take, throughout my entire life. I’ve lived through Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, Donald Trump, and now Joe Biden. That’s 5, and only 11 more to go. Of course there’s the chance of early impeachment. But let’s assume everyone serves their full term.

I’m 25 now. So, I’ve already seen almost a third of the presidents I will see in my lifetime.

Summer vacations

If I live till 90, I have another 65 summers to go. 65 summer vacations left.

If I settle down by 35, I have 10 more summer vacations left – entirely free from constraints and in my prime. I can go skydiving and play extreme sports, without having to worry about seeing the chiropractor. And I imagine, like many others out there, I have more than 10 summer vacation spots I want to hit, excluding the ones I want to have repeat visits to. I already wish I had more time.

Times I’m wrong

In preparing for this essay, for the past week, I tracked the number of times I realized I was wrong. Racking the numbers up each day for seven days. From getting the weather wrong to forgetting what I thought we had for leftovers to being one digit off on my recollection of industry metrics during a meeting, I make on average two small mistakes a day. Extrapolating that to the rest of my life, I have almost 47,500 more small mistakes left to make. I’ve never felt more human than I do now.

Of course, the above number doesn’t include all the times I’ve realized I was wrong after the fact, which I imagine accounts for a mountain of imperfections in its own right. Enough to rival the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

Idea journals

Many of you reading this blog are no stranger to my idea journals. I go through a journal every four months. I have almost 200 more idea journals to go through, assuming I keep at the pace I’m going at now. 195, to be exact. Oh wow, I really need to invest in some shelf space in my future homes. Enough for over 20,000 pages and all hardcover leather-bound journals.

Breakdowns

Each time I conquer a mental breakdown I think I’d be more resilient. In many ways, I am right. In many more, I am still unprepared for what is to come. Just as the sun rises, I too will cognitively readjust to my stress levels. While I wouldn’t describe my breakdowns to be on regular intervals, on average, it seems to happen once every five years. At least a major one, discounting all the smaller frustrating moments I come across. That’s 18 total, and 13 more mental shifts I won’t be ready for no matter how much I prepare.

In closing

All the above calculations were in the scope of 90 years old. But the awesome part is if I live past 90, every day will be icing on the cake. It’ll be better bang for my buck!

The point of this mental shift isn’t to be 100% accurate (’cause I know I’ve made quite a few generalizations). But rather reframe how we choose to live our lives.

In comparison with the hundreds of thousands of years the human species has lived, we are mere century inhabitants. And in the whole history of Earth, if we were to count on a 24-hour clock where the formation of Earth began at time 00:00:00, humans have lived just over a minute. We have short lives. Maybe that’ll change some time in our lifetime, with technology, CRISPR, or some sci-fi derivation.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t live fulfilling lives. Or as Garry Tan puts it, most people are “short term optimists” and “long term pessimists” and end up picking smaller problems to tackle. Rather, we gotta be “short term pessimists” and “long term optimists.” We have short lives, but let’s live a life where our impact lasts beyond our physical lifespan.

Making every second count,

David

Photo by Djim Loic on Unsplash


#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.


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