Tag: Malcolm Gladwell

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.

 

Content poor

Latest study pointed to Vietnam workforce skill deficiencies, particularly in critical and behavioral skills (numerical skill was a given).

This study came not as a surprise. For years, kids have adopted a rote learning, picked up from peers and adults, who in turn, had picked up from earlier generations.

We are heading toward an era when technological platforms are abundant, but content wanting.

It is an equal of having all the stages in the world, smoke machines, sound machines, lighting machines, keyboards and sound effects machines, but no singer and composer.

Take the Beatles rooftop performance of  “Don’t let me down” as an example.

It was a winter day in England. Who would have thought of going out and holding an impromptu concert on the roof top, with “social proof” crowds gathered on the street and London police kept quite busy?

According to Malcolm Gladwell, in Outliers, the Beatles by then had played together for nearly 10,000 hours, first in Hamburg strip clubs, then elsewhere (except Japan where they were banned) before that memorable Rooftop concert.

Michael Jackson did buy all their copyrights knowing those were treasure troves.

Now, Bill Gates and tribes have risen, with Windows and Outlook for the desktop.

In short, the nerds have taken over. And there is nothing we can do about it.

Hardware rules. Until now.

Someday we will wake up and realize, what’s happened here?

Since when do we need to turn on the machine first thing as opposed to burning the incense? Bowing at the virtual altar and not the ancestral one?

Where are our priorities? chasing after the next version of the x-box at Best Buy and whatever OEM  happen to retail at the time?

One machine that has had some staying power (because it caters to a communal need): the karaoke machine. It cuts out the band (in its original meaning) and allows the mass to pick their own content and lyrics. Voila! instant party.

Cheers.

It asks little of us: cognitive skill (knowing which song and how to encode it), behavioral skills (how to take your turn and compete) and of course, numerative skill (tabulating the scores if you compete in teams).

Back to our skill deficiency alarm. If kids are allowed to explore and exploit their multi-talents, whether it’s in sports (Vietnamese women soccer team might score big this year, World Cup material) or music, designing or drawing, let the thousand flowers bloom. Move them up the chain of values, and not the chain of command (do you want to wage war forever? or else, why do we still behave in cold-war fashion?).

With inter-connectedness, mobile platform and dropbox, kids should be set free to pursue and optimize their lot in life. A nation whose policy is to blossom its young is the nation of the future. Take Israel, Ireland and India. What do they have in common? A national strategy and focus on IT talent infra-structure.

I hope someday you’ll join us. And I don’t think I am the only one.

Love as motivator

Fear, fun, money, dream, passion, human spirits are all strong motivators.

This series cannot end without the mentioning of love.

I came across a newspaper clip which showed two skeletons (male and female),

still clinging to each other. Apparently they died in an earthquake.

At least the saying “live together, die alone” doesn’t apply here.

Talking about dying. We just got news that Pham Duy, one of our great song composers, has just died. He was 92. His son, also a singer, had died a month before.

Live together, die alone.

Among Pham Duy’s thousand songs is Dua Em Tim Dong Hoa Vang.

I will be your guide to a yellow-flower cave.

Love. Where do I begin, to tell the story….

We talk a lot about rights not romance.

It’s not a passable legislative piece.

You come across as “soft”, not clear-headed.

Yet when in love, if in love, we get up earlier, stay up later.

We feel this surge of energy and possibilities.

In fact, when in love, eternity and the temporal intersect.

Motivating? Yes, indeed.

Embedded in love is self-sacrifice, the need to give up one’s self.

Love of the commons, love of neighbors among whom we find that particular person we can click and connect with.

We all know by now which activity we tend to lose our sense of time.

That’s what we love to do.

And a certain person we can’t wait to see.

(not like Meeting-with-Jesus , your sales manager).

Bonnie and Clyde got struck down by a hail of bullets (I saw the car but did not count the holes). They might be outlaws, but perhaps there was love between them.

I grew up hearing about the tale of Hon Buom Mo Tien (they could not marry each other in life, so they turned butterflies forever flirting and flying).

And Ngu Lang Chuc Nu (somehow, the offending God separated them except for an annual reunion).

Then right after the Fall of Vietnam, I have a cousin (female) whose husband MIA. 35 years later, she still was unsure whether to put his picture on the altar. Rumor had it that he had been sighted leading a convoy of refugees fleeing the war zone, and perhaps had been struck down (a documentary showing someone like him standing up next to his jeep driver).

Love. It’s elusive. It’s not supposed to last forever. But motivating indeed.

And in its absence, we feel even stronger. Lobo was singing “I love you too much to ever be your friend..so let the story kind an end”.

Love is more motivating than Like.

That’s why we got the second interview. We want to confirm those first impressions.

We want to “fall in love” with the candidate.

In “Blink”, Gladwell talks about the “first time, I ever saw your face”.

We are wired to decode and detect likability and loveliness.

And there is no better team than a team who love to work on projects with one another. High fives, the long hours and “let’s see where you got it wrong” tete-a-tete.

I hope for Washington the return of love for public services. For the pride and purpose of the Republic, indivisible (let the two become one).

I saw a quote on Facebook, when in love, even in the face of 99 bad things, we still look for that one thing to love. If God had been like men, we would have all been dead in hell. Alone. With no one to cling to. And archeologists of the future would stumble upon grave after grave, lone graves. Not worth noticing. They might label that society as lone-wolf, dod-eat-dog civilization.

Pham Duy, RIP. May you find that cave full of yellow flowers, with lovers (and butterflies) still clinging to each other in life and death beyond.

Slippery Saigon

I went out for my morning jog in slippery Saigon.  I was hoping for cooler weather. Now that my wish was granted, I begin to have second thought: if it’s cool here, it means somewhere up North, people are freezing, or boats and houses destroyed.

We live in a connected world and leave behind carbon footprints.

A cigarette tossed into the wild could ignite a forest fire. A harsh word, ill-thought-out and unsolicited comment could damage a child’s self-esteem.

Should they be protected, insulated and shielded from the pain-filled world out there?

How much “reality” should a show depict to open a child’s eyes?

When 9/11 happened, my then 10-year old could not comprehend its magnitude.

Now, my second kid and I are “following” each other on Twitter. Cool!

Back in my time, my parents hardly ever sat down with me, much less “follow”. I am a product of multiple generations, where an uncle, a cousin, an aunt and now nephew, all chipped in with unsolicitated advices. It’s our version of social compact.

But when this social compact broke down, it’s quite ugly e.g. to pay down gambling debt, a father/mother would offer their daughter(s) as payment (to be an unpaid maid or concubine – a phenomenon not unheard of in the bordering towns near China and Cambodia).

WE HAVE A BIG 21st CENTURY PROBLEM: TECHNOLOGY IS MOVING FASTER THAN OUR CAPACITY TO ABSORB IT, WHILE OUR CULTURAL MORES STAY IN THE BACK WOODS OF EMERGING COUNTRIES.  People are still auctioned off, raped, murdered and mutilated over a fake I-phone, for instance. In India, gangs raped bus passenger or Swiss couple who camped out.

Our Western liberal mind screams out when hearing about these incidents.

Then we shrugged it off when the Mafia in Chicago make their extortion route.

Hollywood even made money on these film-noir genre. Hypocrisy? Absolutely.

Who am I to judge? Who am I to carry the chip on my shoulders (Hey Jude).

In What the Dog Saw, Malcom Gladwell pointed out that although imaging and images have better resolution, our capacity to read them (intelligence) will have to increase ten fold to make it effective.

So we need to keep up with our own invention. The tool has become the teacher. This begs a related topic: our capacity to reflect. To think about our mistakes (committed or omitted), to change course. This integrative skill differentiates us from mere technologists (repetitive) order takers (reactive). Back when the 3 networks (TV) ruled, the anchor who could ad-lip was highly sought after. He/she had the skill to see and describe reality in context and in step with what were happening  real-time. Peter Jennings did that during 9/11. After having a smoke, he died of lung cancer. He crossed that journalistic line, from being an observer to being a participant of that same drastic event.

It’s still slippery outside. I promise myself not to slid and slide in the rain. Now is the time to reflect on slippery Saigon. On our capacity to keep up with modern technology. Just have to stay away from the clans who somehow manage to crawl on Facebook, trying to “friend” you with unsolicited postings. Something isn’t going to change, or avoidable. Just like the wet weather here today.

Man who reads

Joan Didion‘s latest book about the death of her child has landed in the top ten of TIME magazine.

Her earlier book, “the Year of Magical Thinking” recalls the death of her husband.

By penning these experiences, she invited us, readers into her private chamber of grief  (saving his shoes, wishing he would come back).

Man reads in order not to be alone.

Reading is listening.

One night, I was alone with Steve Job’s biography whose cover had his blank stare. It felt eerie!

Then on rainy nights, books keep me company.

I could put down one book, just to pick another (then I will be in Peru, with conversations in the Cateral or travel back in time, to Chicago in late 19th century or French country side with Bovary).

It’s all there in black and white.

From Westminster to Wikipedia, we are the most blessed generation, not only for the abundance of  searchable literature, but also for living longer to enjoy them.

Life long learning.

The worst tragedy in life is a wasted mind.

I have no idea how a mighty country like the US  could feel impotent and watch its people (8% at least) sitting idle.

At the very least, get them a library card and have them log in the 10,000 hours (threshold to acquire a new skill set).

Local libraries order mostly low-brow  hard-backs , which perpetuate the cycle (Daniel Steel).

Three cheers to MIT for its radical free online University.

As “rad” as anything has ever happened since the 60’s.

Now just make sure rural broadband and fiber built out be completed.

We don’t want Earth’s billions live longer while remain isolated and ignorant.

In fact, world peace depends on shared assumptions and common ground.

When people agree to disagree, it’s a good thing. At least, they read and understand other’s views and values.

If they read at all.

Man who reads is man who makes peace.  I hope this year is “our year of magical thinking,” i.e. keep the books and lights on, wishing our man would come back and pick up reading where had left it.