Tag: Holidays

10,000 hours

How many among us actually put in that many hours pursuing one thing?

Yet studies show it takes that much practice to master a skill or a trade.

That long to promote ourselves to the rank of outlier : Bill Gates coding skill, the Beatles smooth performance etc…

Today marks my first 10,000 views of this silly blog, which I started as an experiment, to see if the Recession would break or make me as in Hemingway‘s Farewell to Arms “the world breaks them all…but we remain strong in broken places”.

I started blogging when I was married, until I am single again for two years.

It remains my focal point and commitment. To fail time and time again, and stand up if not standing tall.

I am sure the Beatles learned this lesson. They put it in the lyrics of My Sweet

Guitar Gently Weeps “with every mistake, we will surely be learning”.

As adults, we  shy away from trying out new things, meeting new people and going to new places.

We take the path of least resistance. I have friends who keyed down the karaoke coding for their song list, and started to punch them in while the rest of us fumble through the dirty pages of its song book. Apparently these people just want to stay within their range and comfort zone.

I understand the fear of the unknown.  I am living it everyday: from motor-biking on the streets of Saigon, to meeting new faces.

I often found relief, culturally, when going indoor, air-conditioned and culturally conditioned (English-speaking, pipe-in music, and preferably with a menu I can order from without hesitation).

The American part in me must be the true Quiet American, seeking and embracing the Third Force.

Neither here nor there. So sometimes, I escape to my cocoon.

Expats who came here from the Philippines, Singapore and America express similar sentiments.

They are a bit homesick. Like during this time of the year. White Christmas and Oh Holy Night.

It gets cool here but not winter cold. I still put on my shorts and T-shirt, sandals and helmet.

Perhaps it will take a total of 10,000 hours of coming back and living in Vietnam for me to hone my survival skill.

People seem to go about their daily lives, not in quiet desperation, and certainly, not constituting “the lonely crowd” as David Reisman puts it. I hardly came across news of lonely people commit suicide over Christmas holidays as I had read in the States.

On Christmas Eve, in Saigon, people just pour out onto the streets, taking souvenir photos, in front of major hotels (using  their decorations as photo-shoot background) and go to the church (Notre Dame du Saigon). The sacred and profane intersect that night like an annual eclipse.

It’s known as Noel, after the French. And well-off families would gather for Reveillon mid-night dinner.

Now that part I can relate to. The feeling of in but not of it, alone in the crowd, celebrating but not belonging.

Something significant takes place in those hours, of the crowd pushing but not hurrying, dressing up but not showing off.

Just logging in another year, an hour or ten hours toward that something called life experience.

Now that I have put down my humble and jumble thoughts, being viewed for more than 10,000 times, I hope I can detect a pattern. Some of you are also lonely, but not to the point of desperation. It’s our Christmas and Holy Night.

Someone important is joining our party. Might not “tenu de soiree”, but wrapped in peasant cloth. To the trained eyes (the 3 kings), it’s a phenomenon. But to us, commoners, our instinct tells us it’s an event not to be missed. Cut through the noise and clutter, we might find the gem. No matter how you view Nativity, Christmas is here to stay. An excuse for us to affirm our humanity and to be validated. Yes, you are still here. I am still here. Mistakes and all. 10,000 hours to go. Starting now. We’ve only just begun. With baby steps. With starting point in the manger or manager office. As long as we don’t lose sight of that child-like fearlessness, of trying out new things, seeing new faces and learning a few more lines of poem, of lyrics or famous motivational quotes.

The intent of 10,000-hour grunt is not to discourage us. It is rather a reinforcement and affirmation for us to keep trying and fail, instead of fail to try. ( I know the difference between this and the definition of insanity). Persistence is fumble after fumble without losing enthusiasm, says Winston Churchill (I have just learned this quote today). Merry Christmas to you and yours. Never stop trying.

 

No Spring attached

Having lived in coastal cities for quite some time, I forgot what’s like to wait for Spring.

We need Winter as a set up for Spring.  Winter-Spring contrast is more striking than that of Summer-Fall.

We also anticipated Spring more than Fall (some even wish for endless summers).

Vietnamese literature and lyrics (Gold music) nevertheless, serenade Fall and fallen leaves more than other times of the year.

Something about a dreamy creek which evokes music and deers which stand still, clueless and trusting.

The wait for Spring has stretched out a bit further lately due to climate change.

But Spring has always been a symbol of  hope and renewal.

Gone are the days of cold temperature and heavy coats.

Spring breakers are anticipating wild celebrations down Florida beaches.

The Church is electing its new Pope just in time for Easter Celebration.

And Wall Street keeps ringing its bell.

Something is in the air, if not Spring itself.

Optimism is more contagious than grim bad news.

There is nothing more forward-looking than holding a baby in arms.

So much future, so many more seasons.

In that context, it’s not so bad to put up with a few overcast days.

There are also sparks of creativity in this year’s Paris outerwear collection.

With Spring comes less laundry to do (wearing less), some Easter candies to eat and the Cherry Blossom Parade to attend.

Spring is in the air. Everyone seems to be eager for it,… except those with hay fever. Now, that explains the eye irritation starts coming my way.

There are always strings attached, even for Spring.

If you could read my heart

In Eastern cultures, one relies on traditional matchmakers to “read” marriage prospects.

Online, we’ve got eHarmony.com or Match.com.

Over job interviews, we rely on body language, off-guard remarks and (in)consistencies to form an impression and to determine candidate’s culture-fit.

If only could you read my heart.

How are we to determine his/her reaction after the learning curve? We don’t.

But there are a few principles:

– one tends to act consistently with his or her own internal set of standard

– we subscribe to a social compact

– we seek to preserve a long-term win-win balance i.e. cheating doesn’t pay

– collaboration leads to synergy which in turn feeds the virtuous cycle

– we seek to need-fulfill from the bottom of the Maslow scale up (survival first).

I never forget the Northridge quake, when we couldn’t get to work.

Co-workers, Hispanic, Korean, American, Vietnamese, Chinese (Los Angeles office), were all “quake victims”.

Apparently, there was something bigger than ourselves (and our ethnic make-ups).

We cared for one another as fellow human beings and shared inhabitants of this fragile planet Earth.

If they could have read my heart then.

So, on this Valentine Day, may we – co-workers – assume first the role of fellow inhabitants: from the inner ring loved ones to the outer ring – the human family: black, brown and white.

Once that social compact is bought in, it is easier to work with someone, to empathize and to collaborate. Test your candidate, see what planet he/she is from. Does he/she even feel at all? Respect at all? Or just go about “doing my job” regardless. No man’s island. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

Clearing the deck

In about ten days, the world will see an exodus of millions. Chinese New Year.

Workers and students on The Last Train Home.

First day of the New Year (Snake) will be dedicated to ancestors e.g. visiting their graves or wherever the family altar happens to be.

From then on, neighbors visiting neighbors, catching up on latest gossips.

Saigon is about to be emptied out. Students have just finished their exams.

Workers party on with co-workers while try to save up for their home-bound trips.

Companies pay out bonuses. Not nearly enough. Hard times.

Money from the common pot, just changing hands.

Even Vietnamese American from overseas try to find an envy seat on those East-bound flights.

Back in 1975, some of them got experience, but at the opposite direction.

This herd-like movement is as predictable as the Muslim and Hindu pilgrims.

However, their sons and daughters have changed. More adapting to city landscape  and playground, with more mobile phones and supermarkets.

Even clubbing, an urban phenomenon, now a common practice in second and third-tier towns.

Parents put up one last-ditch effort to hold on. Who want to be an empty-nester!

Where have their children gone? Eyes glued to the screen, racing against the machine (virtual combatant).

This is not the first time parents learn to let go.

But it’s the first generation of parents who fail to understand the force of modernity whose grips are so strong on their fast-growing children.

We used to place blames on cultic figures (Jim Jones) or gang leaders (Hearst syndrome) who gather and garner followers.

Now, who can prosecute animation and urbanization.

A force of change here,  an adoption there. Before you know it, kids are strangers in their own homes.

They want to connect as they used to. But have lost the keys.

Alienation and estrangement. Celluloid and chip set. Instruments of change, but also instruments of divide.

I am glad people still go home each year. Keep them sane. When seeing yourself in the faces of others of common genes set, you can’t help questioning yourself.

No one comes out a winner. It’s not a race. Modernity and machine just keep going unstoppable. Up to us to regulate our internal filters and rate of adoption.

Last Train Home. There might be both blessings and curses awaiting at the last stop. Ironically, the symbol is that of a snake, which keeps you guessing, and sweating at the edge of your seat.

Signs and signals

Jackie Chan delivered again in Chinese Zodiac. The 12 Animals.

The East learn to tell fortune from symbols. The West teach others to “read” people. Animals or People. We all want the advantage of foresight the next outcome.

People commit to New-Year resolutions: lose weight, take up lessons in this and that, get off a bad habit like smoking, shopping and swapping old wives’ tales.

Others use the turn of the calendar as a bookend to their failed relationship or business attempt (valley of death).

Good idea. It’s about time. Turn out the lights.

Something never meant to last forever.

Mismatched personalities, mismatched commitments.

The usual: people hurting people in a chain of downward spiral, of self-sabotage.

Those who last are those who never went in deep and are quick at damage control.

Pull out while you still can. Salvage and survive.

As long as you can read the signs and detect the signals.

People and events do send signals (favorable or unfavorable). Semiotics.

We need to know ourselves, when to hold, when to fold.

Enough hurt, enough loss, enough bad tastes in the mouth.

Unfortunately we can only “see” in looking backward.

That’s why people would rather invest in pre-mortem than post-mortem analysis.

That’s why people tell fortune by reading those zodiac, the Twelve.

With Jackie Chan, rumor has it that this was going to be his last picture (at least one which he did all the stunts himself).

For us, we still miss a sign here, a signal there.

Those who are skilled and savvy to detect them will reap a windfall. Others are still in denial even after the facts (that it’s over).

Welcome to the New Year, a bookend to all those missed signs and signals of year past.

Winner takes all

We will hear a lot of ABBA‘s Happy New Year this week. But “the Winner Takes It All” speaks directly to our zeo-sum society.

You lose, I win.

There are only limited “chips” on the table. Scarcity causes rising values. Hot air also rises. Like New Year’s champagne bubbles.

It’s time for a 2012 wrap up. To tabulate and look at the bottom line while drinking bottom-up. Swallow the strong drink and let go of the past.

Time flows only one way.

And the winner takes all. It’s the name of the game.

People and companies are urged to give and give to anyone, any cause, except to Uncle Sam.

Budget short fall.

Remember that one year when the IRS actually refunded the extra tax?

Fair game.

It’s only numbers. And it’s pure math.

As if numbers exist in thin air, unrelated to society and people (who are hurting).

There have been a lot of discussions in academic circle to “humanize” the business schools (courses on ethics, communication and inter-cultural communication) after what happened four years ago. Even Medical schools realise their future doctors need some human skills when interacting with patients in the real world.

In short, those who earn the most feel the least for their clients.

By now, even the least sensitive of them should realise that when people are hurting, they don’t make for good clients, if they still show up at all to use their services.

Politicians ironically are aware of their shrinking tax base, at least every four years.

That leaves the job (of drawing our attention to society’s weakest link) to priests and pastors, who, couldn’t tell one acronym from the other. The cultural divide. Work and Life, faith and science.

It’s another bookend, year-end. We have survived a couple of perfect storms that knocked down the house of cards. The winner did take all. That leaves us, losers.

Be not sore. Lick not those wounds, and give them not the satisfaction. Instead, look forward to a future where all are winners. It’s possible. As long as we take turn, or else, it’s another version of Utopia. Yesterday’s winners might very well be tomorrow’s losers (the Innovator’s Dilemma). That’s why VC‘s keep hunting for new and upcoming talent.

That’s why we expect the next big thing around the bend. Keep our blood pumping. “If we don’t, we might as well lay down and die”. Champagne anyone?

Moving on

I read about and followed with much interest the Penn State game this past weekend.

Where is Joe? First he was absent on the side line, where his rolled up pants were a fixture more than signature.

Then he went up on the booth. This past Saturday, he wasn’t there either, nor was his statue. Ohio won, but not as easy.

The Nittany Lions put up a fight “push them back, way back”. Still, a lot went unsaid there. Just moving on. Motion forward.

Aren’t we all!

Labor Day, Memorial Day. First rest a bit, then Rest in Peace.

Moving on.

Self-deception.

Who are we trying to fool, except ourselves?

I read about the original cell which stays on for billions of years. I am glad we could die (rather cancer war than casualty of war). As  far as biology is concerned, we were meant to be immortal, Greek or geek.

But then, with all the abuses and accidents, we have pretty much done it to ourselves (global sales of weapon, pornography and drugs together curtail population explosion).

So we give the workers a symbolic rest, Labor Day. But actually, we meant for factories to have their machines deep-spayed and well-oiled.

Farmers don’t rest on Labor Day. IT supports don’t rest either in colo centers.

Labor Day belongs to the Industrial Revolution, the 2nd wave, with coal as the main source of energy.

I read that in an interview before his death, an out-spoken Cardinal talked about the Vatican being behind two centuries.

He must be referring to the image of  Sheep May Safely Graze while parishioners “flocking” to the only village church.

I think it’s Marshall McLuhan who coins the phrase “global village”. Even then, he  meant the mass brought together by mass media (Tower of Babel analogy) in a one-to-many broadcast. Little did he know, we now have many-to-many conversation, originated and uploaded from the ground level. As of now, everyone got their 15-minute of fame on Facebook (Famebook?) and 140 characters on Twitter (modern-day AP) – as in United Breaks My Guitar.  Perhaps even we, at one time or another, think, maybe the world can use a few personal computers, as Watson used to think back in 1943.

Institutions and individuals, both are behind the times. I caught myself a few months ago in a moment of prejudice. I heard a ringtone rap music. Not from urban blacks. But with Central Vietnamese accent. The combination shocked me, then it delighted me the second time around. But my knee-jerked reaction was “you must be kidding?” One would expect to hear Northern Vietnamese accent  in songs, not Central, and when it comes to rap music, it’s the American quintessential, not Vietnamese. If this long Depression does us any good, it’s a wake-up call. It humbles us . Yes, it’s the “end of men” as titled in an upcoming book, but by the time the “end of women” comes about, it’s the beginning of the machine age.

The point is, early adopters will keep on adopting (space tourism, echo tourism, edu- tourism, medi-tourism )

And the richest among them, will keep moving beyond Beverly Hills and Betty Ford clinics to “the Island” to do some serious make-over (spare body parts replacement and rejuvenation). Versailles-style ($17,000 leather boots).

Go ahead and protest. Show some guts and show some skin. By the time we do, they no longer find some use for fur coats to cover their once wrinkled bodies. They already got new ones put in. Talking about moving on. Just make sure we don’t become the Pharaohs of the 21st century, embalming ourselves to no avail.  Where is Joe Pa? Ohio won again. Shuck!

joy of giving

  • A close up view of a traffic light illuminatin...
    A close up view of a traffic light illuminating red for stop using light-emitting diodes (LED) in North Carolina, United States. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I saw Clinton’s book on Giving at Goodwill store.

The irony did not escape me: its donor must have thought he/she should act upon the idea right away.

Christmas might be the season of giving, but not when we are at a stop light, ambushed by the man with the “Help me out” sign. Our reflexive rush to get somewhere takes over.

The idea of giving is that it’s part of us, and part of life. Intrinsic and natural, not forced or enforced.

People who give are also people who receive. It closes the loop.

We often receive advice and give advice.

We even give unsolicited opinion.

Without giving, universities and charity won’t function as they have.

Grant for research and grant for immunization.

It’s a tradition in America for the super rich to give back to society.

Now, there is a wealth imbalance, which should trigger more giving to close that gap.

But it has not happened. Go figure.

So give and rediscover the joy of giving.

Get off the chair and start pull out the check book.

Try first at the stop light with the man with the sign.

P.S. After posting this for a few days, I found the man with the sign. Except that birthday boy (65th) holds the sign that says “I have a job, a home and a car. http://shine.yahoo.com/work-money/man-celebrates-65th-birthday-giving-away-free-money-174400395.html  “Want some money for coffee”

For 65 minutes, he gave out $375 to drivers at stop sign, and  found joy in giving.

mass innovation

We got into this mess (housing bubble and derivative fallacy) en mass.

Are we going to suffer in isolation? No way!

With crowdsourcing, virtual forum, email, cloud etc.. we got enough in our arsenal to reverse the course. Technology (the way) and the will. That’s all we need.

And a little bit of love (courtesy of the Beatles).

I know this sounds unrealistic and romantic.

But the same passion and energy people rushed into the bubble will help them backtrack. But not without help from friends.

It’s the equivalent of a jail pass. Bailing out.

Think of the GI bill, and how a generation of well-educated and well-paid workers built the American Century.

From fridge to bridge, they built with pride. It was the envy and marvel of the world.

I still remembered my brother’s stories. He got sent to Denver for one-year training.

This was back in the early 70’s. According to his description (and my imagination), America must have been 7th Heaven: lush green, snowy white, and blonde girls (who  partied their hearts out on New Year’s Eve).

I know my brother. The changes must have shown through, unequivocally.

Then it was my turn, landed in Pennsylvania: again, lush green, Indian country, vast space (Beaver Stadium now second largest in the US).

Last month, I got back to the US, but did not feel excited.

What’s happened here?

Aren’t we becoming less resourceful? No longer a land of opportunities?

In my neighborhood, when time was good, you see all sorts of signage: realtor, loan refinancing, people running for offices and people moving their offices.

Black, Hispanic , Asian and White were all at it, hustling and bustling.

Now, it was depressing even on July Fourth.

Mind you this is not Detroit in 2000 (congratulations on the city’s revival).

We got into this mess en mass. We need one another to get out of it.

Use technology and mass innovation. Crowd-source and open source.

Do whatever it takes. Be more than aggressive (Double the GI bills).

Comb through the evidence like a medical examiner for the cause and manner of death (of the vibrant economy) in a post-morterm. Then, prescribe. Stick to the action plan. One by one, we will get out.

All we need is love (Beatles). All we need is each other. All we need is time.

Micro Resolution

When you were young and with others, you wanted to start a revolution.

But if you were young, but alone, you might want New Year Resolution e.g. diet, “biggest loser”, learning Spanish, pick up a new skill set.

Then when you have been around the block a few times, you still think of New Year resolution, but just  micro ones e.g. jogging every other day, email your kids every other week.

We need to tell ourselves it’s not been OK. That there is room for improvement.

Never too late. For older guys, to meet someone new, even a new male friend, is a hassle: how much can I put trust in the guy even though he has been my friend’s friend? What does he want in exchange ?

In business, even with benefits spelled out in details, people still want to let it simmer. Fools rush in!

On a larger scale, consumer sentiment makes or breaks an economy already teetering on the brink. It’s been more than three long years.

We haven’t trusted ourselves enough. Nursing our wound feels safer than taking small risk.

Government gets bigger, but our paychecks smaller.

The skeptics have had a field day: they would never run out of materials for late night TV.

David Brook of the NYTimes noticed a trend in communitarianism in a small town near Baton Rouge. The kind acts were so real it could be surreal.

Neighbor actually lighted the candle at your loved one’s grave?

Makes me want to live there, to be a part of this “Utopian”.

(in fact, the main character in the story did just that, with their move from  PA back to LA).

Right now, I am living  in a city of roughly 9 Million. And tonight, there will be at least one tenth of the city gather near the river to watch the fireworks.

I am sure there have been small kind acts everyday (I helped a kid in a toy car roll up the stiff sidewalk just now).

Here, people are “white-skin envy” (mannequins in stores are all white).

If you found a black person, perhaps he/she is around 40 years old, fathered during of the Vietnam War. Other Africans who did not make the soccer team also decided to stay on but constitute a tiny portion.

I read somewhere that the greatness of a nation is in how it treats its weakest link (the US with its handicap law enactment is undeniably civilized). Nordic countries are way up there on this scale.

In the end, it’s our every-day act of kindness that adds up.

Let’s make this our micro resolution.

President Bush was sincere when he urged the nation to go about daily routine, such as shopping (right after 9/11). That resolution could be taken out of context. I would rather understand him as saying, let’s have our micro-resolution of many as answers to the macro-barbaric acts of a few. The key is togetherness. His dad’s adage was “a thousand points of lights”. Let 2012 be the year of our thousand micro resolutions.

Pay it forward!