It’s So Great To Be The Dumb Guy In The Room.

I am writing this on a plane, about 30 minutes from landing in London. I’m headed there for a conference. I’m speaking. While I’m there, I’m also going to write a few things for the site, and I’m really excited about that, too.

And I’m realizing now: This is the first time I’ve been really, REALLY excited about a work-related thing a little while.

Here’s the thing: I love my job. I love the people I work with, and I’m fascinated by the little world that I work in.

But this week, I’m stepping outside my normal routine. I’m giving this talk, which should be a blast. I’m going to learn a lot at this conference that I can bring back to work. I’m going to do some writing, which always makes me happy.

But above everything else: I’m going to be spending time talking to new people — new people also happen to be a lot smarter than me. That’s hugely exciting. I’m stepping into a room this week that is a few notches above my head, and I’m going to have to be on my game. It’s going to be a good place for me to be.

And it reminds me, again, how important it is for me — for all of us — to surround ourselves with amazing people. They challenge us, they push us forward, and that’s how we learn to do better work ourselves.

Thanks for the reminder, London.

Celebrating The Big Moments.

I saw a show at Carnegie Hall on Friday. The band was The Lone Bellow, a really exciting group in the Mumford & Sons/Lumineers vein that’s just starting to get some national attention. The Carnegie Hall show was one of their biggest ever.

The band invited their family to the show. During a break between songs, they told the crowd that the first four or five rows were all family. The mandolin player, Kanene Pipkin, had her dad front and center, and he spent most of the set dancing and waving his arms and cheering.

The best moment of the show came during the encore. After the band had finished a song, the room went dead silent. And then we all heard the voice of Pipkin’s dad, turning around and loudly asking for one of his relatives.

“Dad,” Pipkin said, embarrassed, “we’re trying to play an encore here.”

It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen at a concert.

And it was also a really amazing reminder: Getting to a stage like that isn’t easy. The Lone Bellow began as a side project. They played shows to tiny crowds, and a few years into their existence, they still haven’t broken through to a huge audience.

But on the night they played Carnegie Hall, they chose to share the evening with the people who’d supported them and believed in them all along. We don’t always take time to celebrate the big moments and breakthroughs, but it was pretty amazing to see the band do just that on Friday night.

They’re a heck of a band. Here’s to many more big nights for you and yours.

The Words You Need.

A few years ago, I saw Florence & the Machine in concert. I was getting over this girl, and I really wanted to hear Florence sing this song of hers, “You’ve Got The Love.” I wanted to hear her sing:

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
But you’ve got the love I need to see me through

I wanted to hear it, and know that maybe the door hadn’t closed on that relationship after all.

Instead, Florence closed with a new song, “No Light, No Light,” which went:

A revelation in the light of day
You can’t choose what stays and what fades away

Which was something I needed to hear. I didn’t want to hear it, but somebody had to say it.

The thing about music is, it has a habit of doing just that. You’re in love, and every song is a love song. You’re heartbroken, and every song reminds you of how hard things can be. You’re in need, and there’s a song to help.

Sometimes, when I need to find that center, I pull out the iPod and go looking for the right song for the moment. Maybe it’s not always what I hoped to hear. But some of the answers are almost always there.

What One Thing Would Screw Up Everything?

So a question I like to ask myself:

Could one single thing screw up everything I’m doing?

If a key part fell through… if a plan didn’t work… if the modem at my office crashed: would that mess with everything?

Right now, I’m dealing with Day 5 of an unexpected internet outage at home. It crashed, and the internet company sent a guy, and he kinda fixed it, and then it crashed again 24 hours later.

Of course, I’m still writing this — because after years of watching the internet crash at inopportune times, I wisened up and bought a backup 4G card.

What I’m saying is this: Plans go to shit rather quickly. And if one little cog in the machine can cause everything to stop functioning, that’s a dangerous thing. Having a backup plan really matters when you’re doing the work.

There’s no excuse for being caught off-guard by a small failure. Have a plan, and then know what happens when that plan goes bad.

The Colbert Message.

me at colbert

I got to see a taping of “The Colbert Report” this week, and I’d never been to a taping quite like that. I’d been in studios for TV morning shows, and for high school quiz shows, but nothing like “Colbert.”

There’s something different about “Colbert.” When you’re waiting to get into the show, a woman comes out and tells you how important it is that you get excited and loud, because the crowd is the show’s soundtrack, and the show depends on you.

And then a guy comes out a few minutes later, and says the same thing.

And then they seat the audience, and a warm-up comic comes out and says the same thing.

And then the stage manager comes out and says the same thing.

And then Stephen Colbert himself comes out and says the same thing:

You are the soundtrack, and the show depends on you.

And then right before the show starts, just in case you weren’t sold on your role in this, Colbert looks out from behind the desk and shouts, “Have a great show, everyone!”

And after being reminded for 45 minutes straight that I needed to be loud and cheer like a maniac, what happened? I laughed really, really hard. I laughed like I was seeing “Colbert” perform for the very first time.

Yes, the show was very funny. But what was amazing to me was how well the show’s staff conveyed a simple message: You are the show’s soundtrack, so laugh your ass off, and then they spent a ton of time getting us into a great mood so we could do just that.

I was so impressed by how simple and direct the message was. They took an otherwise mundane thing — watching a guy read a teleprompter for 20 minutes — and turned it into a performance that we were excited to be part of. And it’s that simple message allows them to create a fantastic atmosphere for the show every single night.

Of course, I woke up the next day and watched the finished episode. I was looking for myself, sure. But more than that: I was listening for myself. Were we loud enough?

We were. And we really did make for a great soundtrack, and a really great show.

What Can Happen When You Put Things Out There.

So here’s what I love about that story, above, from the very talented Kishi Bashi:

Sometimes, you stumble into amazing things. Sometimes, you make a snippet of a thing, and people like it, and they ask for more. Sometimes, you unintentionally put something amazing into the universe.

Our world is full of happy accidents, of the times that you stumble onto something great. But the only way to get there is to put something out into the world first.

Go. Make. Share. It’s the only way to really know.

The Next 10.

Two nights ago, I saw Lorde, a 16-year-old singer from New Zealand, play a sold out show here in New York. Yesterday, her first single hit no. 1.

Lorde is very good, and very talented, and also — she’s a decade younger than me. Which makes my head hurt a little.

And all I could think about at the show Tuesday was this: What’s she going to do with the next decade? What choices will she make? What moves will she make? And will she be able to put the right people in her life to make some amazing music?

But it occurs to me, too: There are 36-year-olds out there who’d like at someone my age and ask the same questions. (Minus the music part.)

I don’t know what the next 10 years hold for me. I don’t know what happens next. But I’m trying to put the right people in place, and I’m trying to get into rooms where smart conversations are happening. With that and work, I’m optimistic that things will work out.

I wish the same for Lorde — and everyone else trying to do something amazing with the decade ahead.

Going Above And Beyond.

There’s a saying you’ve heard before: “That person went above and beyond.”

And I’ve seen it. I’ve seen people go far beyond what should be expected to deliver something amazing. It really does happen.

But I’d argue that for the most part, going “above and beyond” doesn’t require us to go as far as we think.

What we expect out of people is… well, often not much. We don’t demand incredible things out of most people. Our expectations are low.

And so when people go just a little out of their way to help, we’re often amazed.

It really doesn’t take as much as you think in this world to get someone’s attention. A small act of kindness. A commitment to putting in the work each day.

We don’t demand as much as we should from other people, but that gives us a huge opportunity. Little things often make a huge impression. Going above and beyond isn’t nearly as hard as we think.

A Quick Lesson From Vine.

A thought about Vine, the social media video platform that everyone I know is obsessed with:

The reason Vine is so freaking great is because it has constraints. At 6 seconds per Vine, you don’t have enough time to make something big. So people are often turning to Vine not to capture the important moments in life, but the trivial ones, the goofy and the mundane and the silly. (Which, for what it’s worth, also happen to be the moments that are most universal.)

This is a wonderful thing about limitations: It forces us to be creative in new ways. It forces us to approach our work differently. And with Vine, the limitations have spawned some really amazing little videos.

The same thing can go for your work. Enforcing limitations — faster deadlines, stricter word counts — can force you to work in new ways, and sometimes, that leads to some amazing results.

The Thing I Learned From “Lost.”

I was a huge fan of the show “Lost,” and still am. It was an epic show — 6 seasons and 121 episodes. But a lot of “Lost” fans are still mad about the way the show ended.

I always thought that was funny. I stuck with that show for six years. It started when I was in high school. It ended after I graduated college. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent talking about the show with friends, trading theories and sending email after email about it. For six years, me and my friends shared that show. It became ours. There are some episodes and characters in there that I count among my favorite ever.

Which is why I think it’s so funny that fans hate the show because they hate the ending. That makes no sense to me.

Did you enjoy the journey starting in season 1? I’ll ask them. Did you enjoy most of the stories?

Yes, they’ll usually say.

So why does a bad ending invalidate everything that came before? I’ll say. What does it matter that it didn’t close the way you hoped? You watched, and you enjoyed the ride. Isn’t that what matters most?

Yes, endings can be fickle and strange and not all that we hope for. But that doesn’t make the journey any less rewarding. The ride to the end matters.