A Funny Thing I Learned Along The Way.

People have short memories.

I used to think that when I screwed up, people would remember forever. Or, at the very least, for an extremely long time. A long enough time that it might as well be forever.

But what I’ve found is just the opposite: When I’ve really messed up, I spend a little while kicking myself, and then a little while longer getting my ass kicked by others… and then things start to get better. Friends show up and offer support. Things get talked out.

And then more work comes along, and there’s another chance to get it right. If it’s a small mistake, it’s forgotten a day or two later. If it’s pretty big mistake, it lingers for a week.

But then it passes. People forgive. The biggest mistakes I’ve ever made — the biggest goofs — are things that friends and old co-workers now use as punch lines during happy hours. You remember that thing you did, Dan? Man, what a screw up!

Oh, the other part: You learn a lot about the people you work with when you screw up. Because what I’ve described is what happens when you screw up in the company of great people. They forgive you, and even help you move past your mistakes.

Not everybody is like that, though. There are workplaces that don’t forget mistakes — that punish you for them, that constantly remind you of them.

What I’m saying is: Screwing up is pretty good way to find out what kind of place you work at, and whether or not you want to be working with people who’ll punish you for screwing up.

That image of a small mistake comes via Flickr’s @tehlonz.

The Road To The Final Four

Right now, I can tell you that one of these four teams is almost certainly going to win the NCAA Tournament, which begins in a few hours: Florida, Wichita State, Louisville, or Villanova. That’s what the stats suggest, and that’s what I believe.

But I’m still going to watch the games. They’ll play 63 games in the next three weeks, and I’ll watch at least part of almost every single one. Even the 1-vs-16 match-ups. Even the blowouts.

Even the games that involve Kansas.

Why?

Because moments will happen. Because upsets from out-of-nowhere schools like Florida Gulf Coast will happen. Because buzzer beaters will happen. Because heartbreak will happen.

And because the ride matters. We’re always so focused on the end result — that’s what this post is really about, but hang with me for a moment — but it’s the road there that we really care about. Everyone fills out a bracket and projects a final score, but does anyone really remember what the score of last year’s title game was? Or the year before that?

The end result is just that — a result. It’s a number, and it’s a fact for future edition of Trivial Pursuit.

But it’s the road there that we remember. It’s those experiences that shape everything we’ll see these next few weeks.

There’s a funny thing about this tournament, and about work in general: You’ve always got your eyes on the next step, but your thoughts on the final destination. Focus too much on one or the other, and you lose your way.

Anyway, back to basketball: Florida, Wichita State, Louisville, or Villanova is going to win this — I believe that. But there’s no need to skip ahead to the ending.

The Road To The Final Four is what I care about the most.

That photo at top comes via Flickr’s Nick Meador.

What Should I Do With My Life?

327eda14d06f11e2b1b722000a1d0aba_7

There are times when I look around at myself and the life I have — 26, working at a rapidly-growing company, building cool stuff with a really awesome team — and I manage to convince myself that I am absolutely nowhere.

I look around, and all I see are people going places, and I don’t see myself doing the same.

I feel stuck in the mud.

And then I ask myself question that everyone asks at some point: What should I do with my life?

It is a big, scary question.

I’d like to think that my grandparents asked themselves that question. One grandpa became a doctor, and the other became a pharmacist, and that was their life’s work. They picked a life and stuck with it.

But thanks to a few factors — for me, it’s hard work, a bit of luck, the comfort of a few dollars in the bank, and the way the internet has changed everything about how people make and share things — I don’t see one path. I don’t see one life.

I see many paths, and many lives.

There is a wonderful anecdote in the autobiography of Katharine Graham, the longtime Washington Post publisher. She talks about her father, Eugene Meyer. He started out as a businessman. Then he transitioned to a life in government — he served as the chairman of the Fed, and later the first president of the World Bank. Then he bought the Post. Then he got into community service. And finally, towards retirement, he pushed himself into family life.

Graham writes about these stages as the arcs of Meyer’s life. He had the arc as a private businessman, and the arc as public servant. He had arcs as a champion of certain causes, and an arc devoted to family. Some arcs lasted a decade. Some lasted longer. But his life wasn’t one continuous thread — just a series of strands that he wove together into something impressive.

That idea of arcs has stuck with me. There are a lot of things I’d like to do with my life. There’s an overarching theme, certainly: I’d like to keep making awesome things with great people, and I want those things to serve and to entertain others.

But I know that things will come into my life that will make me change my plans. I know how much the internet has changed things already, and it’s going to keep changing things. I’m going to leave New York at some point, and that’ll change things.

Family will change things — in a wonderful way, I hope.

And I love that idea of arcs. I love the idea that as things change, so can I.

There is not a thing I want to do with my life. There are a lot of things.

A decade ago, I first started working as a reporter. In a way, I see that arc slowly winding down. I’ve been transitioning into a new arc — as someone who makes stuff — and that’s really exciting.

I do not know what the next arc is. But I know this:

When I think about the question of What I should do with my life?, I feel stuck, and scared.

When I think about the arcs, and the chance to keep learning and growing and doing new things — even if that means big change along the way — I feel excited, and nervous.

It is a wonderful feeling, and I want to keep chasing it.

That’s a photo of me stuck in the mud in New York. I took it.

Seinfeld’s Thoughts On Money.

I got to see Jerry Seinfeld get interviewed on Monday night. This quote from the interview really struck me:

“If you really want to make money, never make a decision based on money. If you chase money, you’re going to get less of it. If you chase a thing that you love that’s interesting, only because you love that thing, you’ll make more money.”

I love that. It’s something I’ve been thinking about (and writing about here) for a long time. I’m in my 20s, and it’s far too early for me to say where my career is going or what might even happen next. But I’ve tried to put great people and great projects first, and to focus on doing the work as best I can. Decisions — like the one to start Stry.us — came from a desire to make something great, not to make money.

Do I hope to make money some day? Sure! Better yet: I expect to.

But right now, I’m focused on making great things that people love to share, and I’m learning how to get better at it every day. These are decisions you make for the long run. Hopefully, in time, Jerry’s right, and the money follows.

It Doesn’t Get Easier.

I was listening to this interview with Chris Rock earlier this week. I recommend the whole thing, but one part stuck out to me:

It comes about 3 minutes into this interview with Alec Baldwin. Now here are two men who’ve done everything you can do in the world of acting. Rock’s one of the most successful stand-up comedians ever. He’s been an “SNL” cast member. He’s been in more movies and TV shows than you can count.

And Alec Baldwin’s resume is just as impressive — movies, TV, theater, radio. The works.

Anyway, Baldwin interviewed Rock in 2011, when Rock was doing a Broadway play. It was the first play Rock had ever done.

Baldwin asked what Rock was struggling with, and here’s what came next:

Rock: “Rehearsal’s the hardest thing I’ve gone through in my life.”

Baldwin: “I always tell people, it’s like having the Empire State Building shoved up your ass one brick at a time to learn the play.”

Rock: “Yeah. And you can’t believe there’s ever going to be a day when you’ll know these lines.”

A fairly graphic Alec Baldwin line aside, I love that. I love the idea that these two veteran actors still struggle with the day-to-day work of putting on a play. I love that it’s still a challenge for them — even though they’re hugely successful (and experienced) actors.

It comes back to a question I’ve asked before: How long are you willing to suck? You have to be willing to struggle — it’s the only way to keep going.

The work just keeps coming. Even if you’re Chris Rock. Even if you’re Alec Baldwin.

Even for them.

So put in the work, and just keep going.

That photo of Chris Rock comes via Flickr’s David Shankbone.

Two Big Things.

Earlier this month, I started looking ahead to all the things I want to accomplish at BuzzFeed in 2014. And it’s a lot. This will be a year filled with launches and A/B tests and speaking engagements. It’s going to be a busy year.

And looking at it from a distance, it was kind of overwhelming. I started asking myself: How the hell am I going to get all of this done in 2014 — especially when I’ve got so much on my plate each day already?

So here’s the idea I’ve come up with: I created a Google Doc, and labeled it 100 Big Things. That’s my goal for 2014: Knock 100 big picture things off my to-list in 2014.

And then I started labeling each week of the year, and under that, I added a 1) and a 2).

To get to 100, I’ll just need to do two big things every week. (And I’m subtracting the two weeks of vacation I get a year, which takes me down to 50 weeks and 100 things.)

That seems manageable, right? I don’t need to do it all this week, or next week. Just two things a week, and that’ll add up to something really big by the end of the year.

I still have my day-to-day stuff. But my Two Big Things are the things that are going to take me and my team to the next level by year’s end.

Big goals, little steps. Let’s do the work.

That photo comes via Flickr’s marc falardeau.

Your One Swing.

There’s this one thing that my Uncle Billy said to me about two weeks ago. It was after my grandma’s funeral. We were sitting on the couch, watching the game, eating chopped liver. We were talking about, I dunno, the Broncos or the chopped liver, probably. Doesn’t really matter now.

But somewhere along the line, Uncle Billy dropped this bit of life advice, and it’s stuck with me: “You get one swing.”

Uncle Billy’s 88 years old. He went to war, married a girl he loved, went fishing more times than anyone else I know, showed up for every birthday and bar mitzvah I can remember. As far as Great-uncles go, he’s been a pretty stellar one.

I’ve heard that bit of advice before, obviously. It’s there on fortune cookies. It’s there in self-help books. Hell, there are people at my office who’ve worn YOLO T-shirts before. (Ironically, but still.)

But none of that quite carries the weight that it does when it comes from someone like your 88-year-old Great-uncle, does it? (And at a funeral, no less!)

One swing. Just go for it.

Alright, Uncle Billy, here goes.

That photo of a golfer comes via Flickr’s Nick Jewell.

Thankful.

Thanksgiving 2008

As this Thanksgiving comes around, I’ll say this:

I’m thankful for the chance to do the work. To have the chance to work with these people. To have the chance to build something awesome.

I’m thankful for all that. And for the year ahead. I’m thankful for the chance to make it something great.

That photo at top comes via.

The Importance Of Little Victories.

trophy 1 | the both and | shorts and longs | julie rybarczyk

A week ago, I was looking through my calendar when I realized that I hadn’t been to the gym in a month. Hadn’t run. Hadn’t gotten out for 20 minutes on the elliptical.

Nothing.

And this was after a breakthrough year for me in 2012 where I’d gotten out and really gotten excited about getting in shape. What happened to me this year?

So I got out of bed first thing on Monday and went to the gym. It felt good.

I got out of bed on Tuesday and went again. Back-to-back days. Really good.

And then Wednesday night, after work, I went again. And then the next morning.

Back-to-back-to-back-to-back. Suddenly, I felt like I had momentum. I went out of town for the weekend, and I brought my running shoes. Of course I was going to go running — I’d gotten going again, and I didn’t want to quit.

But it was more than just momentum. By Tuesday, just by going to the gym two days in a row, I was pumped. I’d gotten a little victory, and I was really happy about it.

And every subsequent trip felt like a little win. Running on the treadmill for the first time in a few weeks, making some time to actually stretch…. it all felt really good.

It’s not easy to keep going. But when you’re starting the work, a little win here or there gets you excited. It gives you a reason to believe that you’re on the right path.

Ultimately, you’re working toward bigger wins and bigger goals, but at the start, just feeling like you’re taking a positive first step is huge.

Photo at top comes via.

What Happens When You Add Up All The Work.

me-younger

That’s a photo of me in 7th grade. I’m in the center, wearing the fireman’s hat. I was shorter then. When I went for a checkup in 8th grade, the doctor said I’d probably top out at 6′.

Then I grew 6 inches in a year. And kept growing.

But a funny thing about that: No one really noticed. Not my family. Or my friends.

Growing 6 inches in a year is a lot, but it happens incrementally. A quarter of an inch here, a half an inch there. The change happens so gradually that you don’t notice what it’s all adding up to.

So we didn’t notice anything — until some cousins from out of town visited, and noticed that I had obviously grown a lot. The news came as a shock to everyone I knew. (Even me, kind of — I had spent the winter complaining about how my entire body hurt all the time, but I wasn’t quite sure why.)

We go through these changes all the time. Little things and alterations that add up, tiny changes in the way we work and the types of work we do. Eventually, they add up to something big.

But when we wake up in the morning, we don’t feel like we’re making big changes. We don’t notice what’s happening all around us. We look at the little picture, and never the big.

Often, it takes an outside force for us to take stock of what’s been going on.

But if you’ve been doing great work, and you’ve been putting in a lot of work, you start to notice what you’ve been building all along. It could be something really great.