It's never too late to be what you might have been

I just finished reading Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell's latest book, and like his previous books, The Tipping Point and Blink, it's a fascinating look into why things are the way they are (one of my favorite subjects!) In Outliers, Gladwell debunks the myth that people are successful because of their "individual merit." Using established research and case studies, he shows that culture, family, luck and timing are powerful factors in whether a person is successful. It's very interesting and it made me think quite a bit about my own culture, family, luck and timing. It's not a self-help book so there isn't a chapter on "What to do if you didn't get the right combination of the four factors" but he does demonstrate that knowledge is power and if you understand who you are and how you came to be that way, the more you can change the outcome.

Here's an example from the book, very briefly encapsulated. In the nineties, Korean Air had three times the number of fatal accidents of any other airline and was on the brink of being shut down. It was discovered that because of the culture and the language, the co-pilots were not able to directly tell the captain when there was a problem. Here was an issue that would seem to stem from mechanical or technical problems but was actually a cultural problem. It was solved in two ways. One, the roles were switched so that the captain was in the co-pilot's seat and the junior pilot would fly the plane. That way if there was a problem, social protocol did not prohibit frankness. Two, the language of flying became officially English. Without the social stratification built into the language, it was easier for everyone to speak plainly without fear of offending.

As you might expect, people who are nurtured in their talent and interests while young, tend to be successful in those areas especially if culture, timing and luck were also on their side. It can be difficult, if not impossible, as an adult to put yourself in a situation where you can get the practice and confidence necessary to be good at something new. If that pursuit goes against how you've been raised or your culture, it is also more difficult. Or if you're born in a time when that field is extremely competitive, it will take more luck to get in. Luck is what you call all of those times when you were given access to equipment, training, contacts, information, money, a mentor or some other leg up that other people didn't get.

It's probably not a coincidence that I started this blog at around the time that I stopped acting and went back to work in marketing. I knew that I wasn't yet on the right path and must have known that the blog would help me focus on that quest. In another stop on the journey of self-discovery, I've just this week turned down what is basically the best job offer I've ever had. The non-profit that I had been working for pro-bono asked me to be their Director of Marketing and Communications, a brand new position. I had presented a plan for how to strengthen the brand, establish processes for the company and develop a strategy to grow the business over the next couple of years. I would have worked with some of the brightest and nicest people I've ever met and been able to make a tangible difference in education.

The problem is that marketing is not the path I'm supposed to be on. It's something that I'm naturally good at but no matter how much I accomplish, I never get any satisfaction from it. At the same time my inner critic keeps wondering why, if I was meant for something else, I'm not already doing it. Why is it so hard for me to know what I really want? I found the answer in Outliers. People who are successful are assisted by external forces in such a way that they don't have to wonder what they are supposed do with their lives. Mozart, Bill Gates, Michael Phelps and almost every movie star there is, were doing what they do when they were children. They had discovered their talent -- or it had been discovered for them -- and the four factors colluded to put them on a path to success before they were even old enough to ask what they wanted to do. In reviewing my life, I realize I've been all over the map, and back again.

Here's a synopsis:
Child: Wanted to be a teacher, Shirley Temple or the President of the United States; my mother wanted to take me to auditions but my dad said no.
Jr. High/High School: Wanted to take drama but was not allowed.
Jr. College: Took engineering classes because my dad made me; thought I might want to be an attorney (to blend my love of issues and performing) and got a job at a law office; considered acting school but believed I should be properly educated; started taking improv and acting classes on my own.
College: Dropped engineering for Women's Studies (which cost me the financial support of my dad); thought I might want to be a politician but continued to act; considered getting a masters in education; got feedback from professors that whatever I did should involve writing.
Post-college: Worked at creative agencies as a project manager (and although good at it, I was miserable); enrolled in acting classes and started performing in plays and short films.
Late 20s: Quit my job to be an actress, moved to Los Angeles and planned to give it five years before re-evaluating.
Early 30s: Worked in marketing and got laid off twice and felt like every interview and offer was a death sentence; continued to write scripts and make short films.

Obviously, I have three strong interests: Politics, education and filmmaking. Politics is too nasty for me and frankly I'm not very good at saying the right thing at the right time. I'm also quite happy expressing that part of me on the blog. I decided long ago that I didn't want to be a teacher but the job I'm turning down would have allowed me to make a difference in education with my marketing skills. That made the decision very difficult because unlike other jobs in marketing, this one might have actually fulfilled me.

Filmmaking, though, has definitely persisted as the strongest interest. I remember seeing Goodfellas and Thelma and Louise in the early nineties (Jr. College era) and saying to myself "I'd do anything to make movies like that!" The reason I didn't plunge into it then or at every other opportunity is because of my upbringing, which is a very valuable thing to know. I also noticed something else in my list. All of the careers I've been interested in utilize the skills of communication, performance and persuasion; Teachers, politicians and attorneys all need these skills in abundance. Despite his misguided advice, my dad has told me he recognized these things in me at a very young age.

Of course, even a person who already knows what their talent is and has been put on the path to success could mess it up. What I think is the biggest obstacle to success, however, is fear. I can't imagine what fears might have sabotaged the success of Mozart or Gates or Phelps but I know that I am a long-time victim of fear. Fear is what has kept me in marketing and away from what I really love! I've been hiding in jobs instead of taking the plunge into the unknown, where the things I know are scarier than the things I don't know. The two layoffs might, in retrospect, be seen as the luck and timing I needed because they've made it more difficult for me to hide.

"Oh agony, aaa-GO-KNEEEEE!"

One of the things that has always made me a really good project manager is my ability to make decisions. I can assess a situation and instantly make a call, settle a dispute or change course to accommodate bumps in the road. Other people fret and worry over minute details for weeks, flap their arms wondering what to do when something goes wrong, or just spend hours complaining about how everything is screwed up. I just say "this is what we're going to do" and it's done and everyone is happy. Yet in my own life, I find that kind of decision making to be painfully difficult. I agonize over every detail and feeling and possible outcome, I worry about potential missed opportunities and future problems and about whether making these changes makes me a quitter, a flake or just a crazy person.

So here I am, less than a week away from the day that I have to give notice to leave this apartment and I've just been scheduled for another round of interviews at one of the places I last interviewed at. I'm still being considered for the other one as well, it's just that these companies take forever to actually hire a person. Seriously, like months. It's not that I really want this job but it's thrown me for a bit of a loop. I thought I had correctly deduced that they were not that interested in me and my big ideas but maybe I was wrong. I ask myself, what does it mean that I've still got these people after me when I've decided to do my own thing?

Maybe it's a test. If I was leaving San Francisco because I was broke and couldn't find a job, then surely getting one of these would mean that I could stay. If I was going to live at home because I was hurt and disillusioned then surely still being in the running for a job that seems to embrace my thinking would make me feel compelled to stay and take the job. If, however, my conviction to start my own company is strong, and I know that it's what I want to do, then no job is going to change my mind. Maybe it's just a reminder that there will always be jobs for me. They may take longer to get sometimes and it may not be easy to find one that interests me but they are out there. If I don't succeed in this new venture, surely I won't be any less qualified than I am now. That was what I told myself when I quit my career to go act. "If at the end of it, I need a job, I can always get one." And I was right.

The truth is, I have never been more excited about a JOB than I was about the job I moved up here for and yet it never came close to fulfilling the promise that it held. It became obvious that it would never yield the results I had imagined. What are the chances that one of these jobs will? And what about what I really want to do? How long will I make myself wait to finally be brave enough to try a second time? It is very scary to try something new, it took me two years to do it the first time and, actually, about two years the second time. Certainly, it's easier to make a change when one is miserable or down and out and the glimmer of a shiny new job is just the kind of lure that could divert attention from the bigger catch.

The soccer players and me

Never again will I agree to take a job in a new city without time off. I don't care how urgent the company says it is. When all I had to do was show up, I was on top of the world. I felt smart, I felt needed, I felt like I belonged and I was excited about this job. But as soon as the moving part started, I couldn't focus on anything. It was like the ground and everything else was moving at the same time, in different directions. Then I started feeling lost, stupid, unsure and confused. I'm a creature of habit, I need to have certain things be the same or I lose my bearings. Eventually I got into a little bit of a rhythm, sleeping on a friend's couch and living out of a closet, sure, but getting up at the same time and getting coffee at the same little shop on the way to work made a big difference. I had a few days where I felt like things were clicking, but every week the rhythm was interrupted by a trip to LA (I've been three times in three weeks for work), weekends in the city looking for apartments, and everyone else's vacation schedules. Then I got a really bad cold.

Luckily I'd already found an apartment and got to spend some time just relaxing (I'm still sick but the relaxing was nice). I finished Harry Potter book 5 and was thinking that for all my complaining, I can be grateful I'm not Potter. That kid has problems that just never end, eh? It was funny because the whole book was about his dreams and how he kept dreaming what Voldemort was doing. It make me more conscious about my dreams. Last night I dreamed that a whole team of hot international soccer players were vying for my attention, one had cooked me an authentic Italian meal, another wanted to give me a massage. I cracked myself up at how very female it was - hot guys who cook and give massages (LOL!) - and also how reflective of despite all the chaos, I'm in a pretty good mood. I just hope I'm back on top soon.

Expose yourself

This blog is starting to sound like a dream journal but I have been having some vivid and bizarre dreams lately. Last night, before going to bed, I decided to blog about an article in this month's Wired.

Five years ago Bangladeshi-born Hasan Elahi, a 35-year old artist and Rutgers professor, was detained at the Detroit airport by the FBI on suspicion of stockpiling explosives in a Florida storage facility. He was released when they were convinced they had the wrong guy but it landed him on the US terrorist watch list. A list that's apparently very difficult to get your name taken off of.

In response, Elahi started a website where he posts his location via a GPS he wears, a feed of his credit card transactions and, since he travels frequently, photos of every meal he's about to eat on an airplane. He also calls the FBI before every trip so they can alert their field offices. He hasn't been detained again.


Elahi says by flooding the market with information about himself, he deters overly ambitious agents from getting the details wrong in their snooping. He says with the younger generation, like his students, posting their personal photos on Flickr and writing journals on MySpace, Big Brother just might go out of business.

So last night, I had a dream that I was detained by a group of Scientologists. They told me that they had my friend's newborn daughter and unless I cooperated with them, they would not give her back. I got to see her for a moment. She was tiny like a Barbie doll and she was attached to a piece of cardboard with twisties like a doll when you buy it. I touched her little hands and started crying.

(I guess that the reason they had this particular friend's daughter is because she has a celebrity blog and doesn't say very positive things about the Scientologists. It's rumored that Scientology has maintained such a high profile list of followers by taking advantage of actors, desperate for success, and leeching their darkest secrets from them.)

They had my journals from high school and knew everything about me. They never harmed me physically but wore me down in questioning. They made me feel weak and vulnerable and then came in like my protector. "If you join us, we can protect you."

This is how Homeland Security works. Without their snooping, our cities might be bombed by terrorists every day. We don't know for sure, but we're scared and worn out, so we give in. At one point during the interrogation, I started hitting and punching the woman who was questioning me. She didn't react at all. She was like an android without any feelings. They continued to name the people I cared about that they had access to if I resisted. The dream ended with me saying "I want my life back. I want my job and my friends and my apartment and my boyfriend. I want my freedom back. I want the choice to say no to you" and I woke up sobbing.

I immediately thought about the Wired article. See, when I went to bed I thought "right on, good for you!" to Elahi taking charge of his life and refusing to be a victim. It could be his site that has kept him out of Guantanamo. But this morning I had a different view. I wasn't harmed in my dream but I clearly felt that my freedom had been taken from me. I realized that even things like the job I don't have anymore represent choices that I have, choices that I often take for granted. And I wondered, is this trend of total exposure and radical transparency really a victory?

Horrific horrifying horror

I was at the video store with my dad, looking for a film to rent. Every third film, it seemed, was a horror flick. And I don't have to tell you that most of them are about pretty young women being victimized. I picked up one called Rest Stop and made the mistake of reading the back. It's, as I guessed, about a woman tortured by a sicko after stopping at a rest stop...something about a box of tools and a saw (!)

I guess what makes it so SCARY and, I shudder to say, APPEALING, is that it actually happens and women are really afraid of that. Hmmm, I wonder how often it happens. Or are women disproportionately afraid because of movies like this? Why is a woman's fear so appealing?

A few minutes later, my dad picks up the movie The Virgins of Juarez. "This is a good movie," he says, "YOU should see this." I figure that he's making reference to the fact that I'm a feminist, something he hasn't always been too supportive of. He explains that it's a true story of women (young, I imagine, since they're VIRGINS) who are abducted in Juarez, Mexico, raped repeatedly and then KILLED. Disposable sex toys?! I feel myself getting physical ill in the video store as he goes on. "Minnie Driver plays a reporter who goes down there to get the story and this girl," he says, pointing to someone on the cover, "was buried alive but manages to escape."

I'm so horrified, I don't even know what to say. Why should I see this movie? God, how sick. How awful! My brain is spinning. Who are these people? WHO abducts little girls and rapes and kills them? WHO?! Normal men just walking around decide to do this? How can a society have such a low value on the life of a woman? How can a society care so little about women living in fear?

My mom had mentioned an article in the paper that morning (it was a weekend with the parents) about a 15 year old girl who met a guy online. She agreed to meet him somewhere and was kidnapped. He and HIS FATHER kept her in their apartment for a week and raped her. FOR A WEEK! She managed to escape, apparently, and they got caught.

That night, I had a nightmare about a serial killer, a duffel bag full of warm bloody body parts in Ziploc bags, and a series of films the killer had made while killing each victim. This was a nightmare because I was in charge of solving these crimes and had to watch the movies. I couldn't sleep for two nights afterwards.

So, the other day I was at the beach, on the walking path. Every time I heard someone behind me I jumped a little, startled. I notice that other women do it too, when they're approached. I saw a couple of guys laughing at a woman who was startled by them. Does a man even know what it's like to feel like a potential victim walking around? Sure, sure, it's a state of mind. BULLSHIT. With so much real violence against women, why do we need fictional violence?

Let me ask a question. Why is it that fictional terror is entertainment while the real terror is a challenging think piece? For example, Blood Diamond featured little boys getting body parts hacked off. COOL! Last King of Scotland is about a dictator who was a mass murderer...way better than Zodiac. That guy wasn't even REALLY a serial killer. Or what about The Virgins of Juarez? I mean, isn't that right up horror alley? Can someone explain this to me?