I’m single and I’m fine with it – don’t pity(ˈpidē) me

By Carrie Freedman

I ran into a work acquaintance(əˈkwāntəns) the other day. She asked if I had someone “special” in my life. “Nope(nōp),” I replied with a smile. But she looked concerned(kənˈsərnd) and assured(əˈSHo͝ord) me not to worry, that I was “a catch” and would find someone soon. While her sentiment(ˈsen(t)əmənt) was well meaning, I found it irksome(ˈərksəm). Who said I was looking for someone?

She is not the first to suggest my being single required condolences(kənˈdōləns). Many people, especially those in a relationship, make assumptions(əˈsəm(p)SHən) about single people. After my divorce(dəˈvôrs), the first assumption I was confronted(kənˈfrənt) with was that the divorce was a result of infidelity(ˌinfəˈdelədē) or abuse(əˈbyo͞oz). When they discovered it was neither, I was often met with disdain(disˈdān). People had a hard time understanding my decision. To end a marriage(ˈmarij), especially when there were children involved (and there were), seemed a selfish act. Why couldn’t we just suck it up, at least for the kids’ sake(sāk,ˈsäkē) ?

The truth is, my marriage dissolved(dəˈzälv) because it was a toxic(ˈtäksik) relationship. Ultimately(ˈəltəmətlē), both of us knew the marriage needed to end. There were no extramarital(ˌekstrəˈmerədl) affairs(əˈfe(ə)r), no big dramas(ˈdrämə) that broke us up. It was simply years and years of trying to make it work, and finally recognizing that it was not going to.

Not everyone was disdainful(disˈdānfəl). A good number of people offered me their pity. This also felt odd(äd). I had made a choice that ultimately improved my life and my children’s lives. If you want to pity someone, pity those that stay in stale(stāl) relationships because the unknown is too terrifying. For some people, stability(stəˈbilədē) is comforting. It doesn’t matter if that stability is suffocating(ˈsəfəˌkāt) the life out of them.

Another assumption I encounter is that I am lonely because I am single. Being alone is not the same as being lonely. When I was married, I was painfully lonely – I cried a lot more and laughed a lot less. I remember going to sleep at night with my partner lying(ˈlī-iNG) next to me, both of us worlds apart, and the piercing(ˈpi(ə)rsiNG) loneliness that invaded(inˈvād) me in those moments.

Being single does not mean being without love. Love is all around us.

…
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/first-person/article-im-single-and-im-fine-with-it-dont-pity-me/

Finding Order in Chaos(ˈkāˌäs)

By Steve Pavlina

We could say that we live in a pretty chaotic(kāˈädik) world and that the desire for clarity is an attempt to impose order on the apparent(əˈparənt,əˈpe(ə)r-) chaos around us.

We tame(tām) nature and build cities. We build roads across natural landscapes. We seek scientific(ˌsīənˈtifik) rules to predict(prəˈdikt) the behavior patterns of matter and energy.

When we bring order to chaos, there’s a certain beauty to it. A well constructed city can be beautiful. A well-organized home or office can be beautiful too.

Yet what do we do once we’ve created order? Something feels like it’s missing, so we add some chaos back in – but in a controlled manner. We put plants in our homes. We add parks to our cities. We have children. Even when we’ve created a strong sense of order, we invite some chaos back in for balance.

Too much order leads to boredom(ˈbôrdəm). It stifles(ˈstīfəl) our creativity. Every day feels the same. Life becomes overly predictable.

Too much chaos unbalances us too. It’s hard to feel grounded in chaos. We feel out of control. We may even feel helplessly adrift(əˈdrift).

So where does clarity fit into all of this?

Clarity is actually a lens. It’s a way of looking at reality. It’s a perspective, a viewport, a spyglass(ˈspīˌglas) focused on an island in an endless sea of possibilities.

Clarity is a way of looking at reality that imposes order and structure. Clarity makes us feel grounded. Clarity helps us define a direction, a pathway through the chaos.

Clarity is also a choice. Since it’s a perspective, we can pick it up or put it down. We can use the lens of clarity, or we can decline to use it. We can drift around in the sea, or we can focus on the next island and set a course(kôrs).

Sometimes we may feel like we’re lost in the chaos, and we can’t make sense of it. In such situations the desire for clarity and the willingness(ˈwiliNGnəs) to look for clarity can eventually guide us to the clarity we seek. Even when we don’t see any islands yet, we know there are islands out there, so we can actively look for them.

This is an important key to clarity. You must know it’s possible to find it. You must decide to bring order to the chaos. If you desire clarity, then look for clarity. Don’t be passive when you have the energy to look.

…
https://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2020/01/finding-order-in-chaos/

the collaborative(kəˈlab(ə)rədiv) self

By Henry Walker

what motivates(ˈmōdəˌvāt) us–
to choose?
to work?
to apply the gifts of ourselves
to be just what the world has been wanting?

perhaps competition?
competition defined as being better than another?
selfishness?
the self as individual and its desire the mundane(ˌmənˈdān)
of what feels rich and good at the moment?

I think, though, we sell ourselves short
when we stop at the zero-sum of games,
when we equate(əˈkwāt) worth with wealth(welTH),
prestige(preˈstēZH, preˈstēj) with product,

I am intrigued(inˈtrēɡ) by a counter-revolution within the Internet
where people work & create & freely share sections of enabling(enˈābəl) code,
tools created and offered in a corporate(ˈkôrp(ə)rət) search for what works,
shared footholds(ˈfo͝otˌhōld) for the climb(klīm) up
where somehow being best as individuals
can enable us to be best together,
as many hands lighten the lifting
and we can feel good as part of a whole
moving forward and upward
without stopping it all to say “me.”

https://henryspoetry.blogspot.com/2008/12/counter-revolution-within-internet.html

Maybe Information Actually Doesn’t Want to Be Free

Jessica Lessin’s online tech publication costs $399 a year and has no ads. Silicon Valley’s(ˈvalē) elite(āˈlēt,əˈlēt) is eating it up.

By Edmund(ˈedmənd) Lee

Jessica Lessin thinks the biggest story of the moment — how tech is swallowing(ˈswälō) the universe(ˈyo͞onəˌvərs) — is hopelessly under-covered by the news media. The issue(ˈiSHo͞o) is “massive,” she said not long ago in her spare(spe(ə)r), cube-like office here, and “no one is paying attention.”

Of course, it can be hard to see the forest(ˈfär-,ˈfôrəst) for the tweets(twēt). From analysis(əˈnaləsəs) of Trump’s utterances(ˈədərəns) to conspiracy(kənˈspirəsē)-peddling(ˈpedl) publishers amplifying(ˈampləˌfī) themselves on Facebook and YouTube, tech stories increase exponentially(ˌekspəˈnen(t)SHəlē) every day. But Ms. Lessin, founder of The Information, an influential(ˌinflo͞oˈenCHəl) Silicon Valley publication, thinks most reporters are still focusing on the wrong topics: glamorous(ˈglamərəs) cryptocurrency(ˈkriptōˌkərənsē), for example, rather than the blockchain looming(lo͞om) over bank loans(lōn) and stock trades(trād); or the number of cars sold, rather than the artificial intelligence and driver networks that threaten(ˈTHretn ) to make that number obsolete(ˌäbsəˈlēt).

She has focused her site on the larger picture, pursuing industry scoops(sko͞op) and keeping the publication ad-free, instead charging $399 a year for complete access. The Information achieved profitability(ˌpräfədəˈbilədē) in 2016, Ms. Lessin said, three years after she left The Wall Street Journal to start it. She added that she expected $20 million in sales by the end of 2020, and for her staff of two dozen reporters and editors in the Bay Area(ˈe(ə)rēə), Seattle(sēˈadl), Los Angeles, New York, Washington and Hong Kong to grow. “The fact that we have a business that’s scaling(skāl) makes me excited,” she said.

This sense of hope is discordant(disˈkôrdnt) with the rest of online media, which seems in grim(grim) shape(SHāp) — last year, more than 1,000 people were laid off at BuzzFeed, AOL, Yahoo, HuffPost and Vice Media. (BuzzFeed is now back on more solid(ˈsäləd) footing and could be headed for a sale.)

…
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/07/business/media/the-information-jessica-lessin.html

Human nature to focus on the one bad thing

By Derek Sivers

Today my bus was delayed(dəˈlā), and I was really annoyed(əˈnoi).

Also, I got a really nasty(ˈnastē) email, which put me in a worse mood.

No, wait, I should give the full story.

It takes two busses to get from the airport(ˈe(ə)rˌpôrt) back to my house. The first bus leaves once per hour. That connects to a second bus that leaves every five minutes.

Today I was super-lucky and got to the first bus just before it left. If I would have emerged(əˈmərj) from the airport a minute later, I would have waited an hour for the next one.

But then the second bus was delayed, and I had to wait about ten minutes. That’s what got me really annoyed, and feeling like today was a bad day.

Then I got home and downloaded my emails. There were about fifty really nice ones, and one nasty one. That’s what put me in a worse mood.

I didn’t remember until later how lucky I was to just make that first hourly bus. Then I had to laugh at myself for being upset about waiting ten minutes for the next one, and being upset about one stupid email among a bunch of nice ones.

It’s human nature. We all do it. Life is wonderful, and we focus on the one thing that’s not.

https://sivers.org/negz

Why Your Students Forgot Everything On Your PowerPoint Slides(slīd)

By Mary(ˈmerē) Jo Madda

Don’t fret(fret), we’ve all been there: You’re up late the night before Thursday and you have to teach a lesson at 8 AM the next day. So, what do you do? Throw(THrō) some text on a PowerPoint and get ready to talk through your points. Couldn’t hurt, right? You might not always read straight(strāt) off of the slides—they’ll just help keep your lecture(ˈlekCHər) on track, and if you lose your place, the text is right there for you.

Unfortunately(ˌənˈfôrCHənətlē), whether you’re discussing Columbus(kəˈləmbəs) with 4th graders(ˈgrādər) or quantum(ˈkwäntəm) physics(ˈfiziks) with college freshmen, you may be hurting your students’ learning more than helping them.

Let’s explore(ikˈsplôr) why instructional design doesn’t typically work with students, or anyone’s learning for that matter, when you teach with PowerPoint—as well as how you can avoid it. It all begins with a little concept(ˈkänˌsept) called “cognitive(ˈkäɡnədiv) load.”

Too Much for the Student to Process

Imagine your student’s brain(brān) as a container. When you start tossing(täs,tôs) rocks into the container, it gets heavier(ˈhevē) and heavier—and more difficult for the student to carry(ˈkarē) or sort through(THro͞o). Essentially, that’s cognitive load. Cognitive load describes the capacity(kəˈpasədē) of our brain’s working memory (or WM) to hold and process new pieces(pēs) of information. We’ve all got a limited amount of working memory, so when we have to handle information in more than one way, our load gets heavier, and progressively(prəˈɡresivlē, prōˈɡresivlē) more challenging to manage.

…
https://www.edsurge.com/news/2015-01-19-why-your-students-forgot-everything-on-your-powerpoint-slides

Monsters

By James(jāmz) Blunt

Oh before they turn off all the lights
I won’t read you your wrongs or your rights
The time has gone
I’ll tell you goodnight close the door
Tell you I love you once more
The time has gone
So here it is

I’m not your son
You’re not my father
We’re just two grown men saying goodbye
No need to forgive
No need to forget
I know your mistakes and you know mine
And while you’re sleeping I’ll try to make you proud
So daddy won’t you just close your eyes
Don’t be afraid
It’s my turn to chase(CHās) the monsters away

Oh well I’ll read a story to you
Only difference is this one is true
The time has gone
I folded(fōld) your clothes on the chair(CHe(ə)r)
I hope you sleep well don’t be scared(ske(ə)rd)
The time has gone
So here it is

I’m not your son
You’re not my father
We’re just two grown men saying goodbye
No need to forgive
No need to forget
I know your mistakes and you know mine
And while you’re sleeping I’ll try to make you proud
So daddy won’t you just close your eyes
Don’t be afraid
It’s my turn to chase the monsters away

Sleep a lifetime
Yes and breath(breTH) a last word
You can feel my hand on your arm
I will be the last one so I’ll leave a light on
Let there be no darkness in your heart

But I’m not your son
You’re not my father
We’re just two grown men saying goodbye
No need to forgive
No need to forget
I know your mistakes and you know mine
And while you’re sleeping I’ll try to make you proud
So daddy won’t you just close your eyes
Don’t be afraid
It’s my turn to chase the monsters away

https://y.qq.com/n/yqq/song/003xly3j1XbYVO.html

Do I run for it? The split-second decision every commuter(kəˈmyo͞odər) must make

By Anne Farrer

There’s nothing more frightening(ˈfrītn) and paradoxically(ˌperəˈdäksik(ə)lē) life-affirming(əˈfərm) to any commuter – but especially a Vancouver(vanˈko͞ovər) SeaBus passenger(ˈpasinjər) – than noting the time to the next departure(dəˈpärCHər). You know that, with a hurried(ˈhərēd) pace(pās,ˈpäˌCHā,ˈpāˌsē), anything over the minute mark on the countdown clock means you will be able to slide(slīd) onto the ferry(ˈferē) just before they pull shut the doors and depart. But anything under that one-minute mark requires a decision.

Are you running to catch it? Or do you wait the 15 minutes for the next one?

Fifteen minutes is not such a long time to wait, really. The tougher(təf) decision comes later at night, when the consequences of idleness(ˈīdlnəs) or indecision stretch(streCH) to 30 minutes between sailings(ˈsāliNG). Missing that one hurts like a bald(bôld)-faced hornet(ˈhôrnət) sting(stiNG). But it is the decision that is crucial(ˈkro͞oSHəl). In the nanosecond(ˈnanōˌsekənd) in which you register(ˈrejəstər) the verdict(ˈvərdikt) of the clock, you must make your decision.

Will you run? Or do you let it go? Any delay can make the decision moot. Seconds are crucial. Each step(step) can make or break your fate(fāt). There are seldom(ˈseldəm) such defining moments in your life. Will you grasp(grasp) the brass(bras) ring, or will you … oh, I just can’t be bothered … give up? The tiny moment then forever crystallized(ˈkrɪstəˌlaɪzd) as another example of resignation(ˌrezəɡˈnāSH(ə)n) to one’s march(märCH) toward death. Will you run? Is this time in your life precious(ˈpreSHəs) enough to fight for? Will you run?

00:37.

Damn(dam) it. I’m going to miss it. Am I going to miss it? Should I run? Oh God, am I going to run? Is there enough time? Do I need to catch this one? Ahhh. I’m running. I’m running. Oh, why am I wearing heels(hēl) today?

This is no problem. Look at me, I’m powerful and strong. I can run. I am running.

Ahh. A needle(ˈnēdl) of pain as I immediately roll(rōl) my right ankle(ˈaNGkəl) – it never healed(hēl) properly after breaking it at adult learn-to-skate(skāt) hockey(ˈhäkē). A stutter(ˈstədər) step, but quick recovery. No time to chastise(CHasˈtīz) myself for lack of physio(ˈfɪzioʊ) follow-through. Run. Run. The sound of those who’ve also scented(ˈsentid) despair and broken into a run echoes down the walkway. They’re coming. They’re coming. They’re here. They’re here. We are running. We run. We are runners.

…
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/first-person/article-do-i-run-for-it-the-split-second-decision-every-commuter-must-make/

How Will You Measure(ˈmeZHər) Your Life?

By Clayton Christensen

Before I published The Innovator’s(ˈinəˌvādər) Dilemma(diˈlemə, dīˈlemə), I got a call from Andrew(ˌandro͞o) Grove(grōv), then the chairman(ˈCHe(ə)rmən) of Intel(ˈintel). He had read one of my early papers about disruptive(disˈrəptiv) technology, and he asked if I could talk to his direct reports and explain my research and what it implied for Intel. Excited, I flew to Silicon(-kən,ˈsiləˌkän) Valley(ˈvalē) and showed up at the appointed(əˈpoin(t)əd) time, only to have Grove say, “Look, stuff has happened. We have only 10 minutes for you. Tell us what your model of disruption(disˈrəpSHən) means for Intel.” I said that I couldn’t—that I needed a full 30 minutes to explain the model, because only with it as context(ˈkänˌtekst) would any comments about Intel make sense. Ten minutes into my explanation, Grove interrupted: “Look, I’ve got your model. Just tell us what it means for Intel.”

I insisted(inˈsist) that I needed 10 more minutes to describe how the process of disruption had worked its way through a very different industry, steel(stēl), so that he and his team could understand how disruption worked. I told the story of how Nucor and other steel minimills had begun by attacking the lowest end of the market—steel reinforcing bars, or rebar(ˈrēˌbär)—and later moved up toward the high end, undercutting the traditional steel mills(mil).

When I finished the minimill story, Grove said, “OK, I get it. What it means for Intel is…,” and then went on to articulate(ärˈtikyələt) what would become the company’s strategy for going to the bottom of the market to launch the Celeron processor.

I’ve thought about that a million times since. If I had been suckered(ˈsəkər) into telling Andy Grove what he should think about the microprocessor business, I’d have been killed. But instead of telling him what to think, I taught him how to think—and then he reached what I felt was the correct decision on his own.

…
https://hbr.org/2010/07/how-will-you-measure-your-life

Making Sense of Infinite(ˈinfənət) Possibilities

By Steve Pavlina

You could say that one reason we can make simple decisions each day with relative(ˈrelədiv) ease is that we only have a handful of options to choose from, and that makes it easier to make a reasonably(ˈrēz(ə)nəblē) good choice.

For instance, if you only have so much food in your home, or so many stores and restaurants within reach, then you may find it easier to decide what to eat each day. You don’t have to consider infinite options. You narrow(ˈnarō) your focus to what’s most accessible.

But what about making bigger life choices, like what career path to explore next? This is a situation where you may feel like you’re drowning(droun) in possibilities. There are so many factors to consider. Many decisions could lead(led,lēd) to positive outcomes, but many could lead to undesirable(ˌəndəˈzī(ə)rəb(ə)l) ones. What if you pursue a career you don’t like? How do you know how to make this choice?

What does it mean to have clarity(ˈklerədē) in such a situation? How can you possibly achieve clarity when there are so many options to consider?

The simple answer is that you must collapse(kəˈlaps) the possibility space to make it smaller. You must somehow narrow your options.

How can you do this? Aren’t all things possible?

You may have this sense that in each moment, you can make any possible decision. But is that really accurate(ˈakyərət)?

Consider a simple decision like what to have for your next meal(mēl). On the one hand, it may seem like you could potentially(pəˈten(t)SHəlē) eat any possible food for that meal. This may seem especially true if you live in a big city with lots of accessible restaurants within easy walking or driving distance. You may literally(ˈlidərəlē, ˈlitrəlē) have thousands of different meal options accessible to you.

Now and then you may even feel overwhelmed by all the choices. But somehow you still decide, and you make such decisions every day. Even deciding not to eat anything is a choice.

How on earth do you do that? How do you face such immense(iˈmens) possibilities and still decide?

When you actually make such a decision, you don’t consider every possible option. You only consider a small number of possibilities. You collapse the space by giving attention to certain factors that will eliminate(əˈliməˌnāt) most options. You might consider your mood, how much time you have, the cost, the relative distance, your cravings(ˈkrāviNG), past memories, and so on. Sometimes you’ll simply think in terms of patterns. Ultimately(ˈəltəmətlē) you may find yourself making the decision pretty quickly. And then you get to experience the result.

…
https://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2020/01/making-sense-of-infinite-possibilities/