Hard work is deliberate practice. It’s not fun while you’re doing it, but you don’t have to do too much of it in any one day (the elite players spent, on average, 3.5 hours per day engaged in deliberate practice, broken into two sessions). It also provides you measurable progress in a skill, which generates a strong sense of contentment and motivation. Therefore, although hard work is hard, it’s not draining and it can fit nicely into a relaxed and enjoyable day.

Hard to do work, by contrast, is draining. It has you running around all day in a state of false busyness that leaves you, like the average players from the Berlin study, feeling tired and stressed. It also, as we just learned, has very little to do with real accomplishment.

First, as a banker, you could earn well over £6million. By donating 50% of those earnings, you could pay for several charity workers. So you’d do several times as much good than if you were a charity worker yourself.

Second, if you decide not to be a charity worker, someone else will take your place, and so the benefit you provide would have happened anyway. In contrast, if you take a lucrative career and donate your earnings, your donations provide a benefit which would not have happened anyway.

Third, as a philanthropic banker, you can put your money anywhere. So you can fund only the very best causes. In contrast, as a charity worker, you are much more limited in your choice of where to work. Some causes are thousands of times more cost-effective than others, so this can be a big deal.

by Ryan O’Connell

I remember feeling like no one would ever hurt me—certainly not after we laid in bed together and circled each other’s stomachs with our fingertips, and ordered delivery food and made up inside jokes before we fell asleep! Why would anyone do that? You’re supposed to treat me with care after I’ve exposed all of my vulnerabilities to you. You’re supposed to protect me and make me feel good about people. I remember feeling this way, I remember being naive and trusting. I don’t feel that way anymore though.

I remember feeling satisfied by finding five dollars underneath the couch cushion. I remember having a pure relationship with money and not really being aware of class. Currency used to be in Pogs and stickers. I didn’t know that people could have so much and I remember feeling shocked when I walked into my first big fancy house. I remember not understanding why people would go to such insane lengths for a buck. I remember feeling okay with just a hamburger from McDonald’s. I don’t feel that way anymore.

I remember feeling scandalized when someone would do drugs. I remember feeling like this person snorting something in her bedroom at her parents house was really cool and maybe understood things in a better way than me, like she had it all figured it out and just got the memo before I did. I remember feeling inadequate to the popular kids when I was sixteen and feeling tired from trying so hard. I remember feeling like I would be happier if only I got invited to that dance party in someone’s basement. I don’t feel that way anymore. (THANK SWEET CHRIST!)

I remember feeling invincible, like nothing could ever get taken away from me. I would always have these limbs, these fingers, these hands, this body. I owned it. It was mine. I was going to stay the same forever and never have any health problems or injuries because that stuff wasn’t easy or nice. That wasn’t meant for someone young anyway, wasn’t fit to print. I don’t feel that way anymore.

I remember feeling like my parents were immortal and would never need me in the way that I once needed them. The father becomes the child and you become the caregiver. That wasn’t something I never understood or felt. I remember feeling like it was their job to protect me and make sure my life was nice. I don’t feel that way anymore.

I remember feeling like I had a set list of things I would never do in my life and thinking I was going to feel the same way forever about things. My opinions would never change. I had drawn a line in the sand and there was no way I was going to change it. Inflexibility, stubbornness—I remember feeling these two things constantly. I don’t feel them anymore.

I remember feeling like I was owed certain things. I was owed a boyfriend in high school because everyone else had one. I was owed a job after graduation because, hello, I just spent four years working my ass off. I was owed a dog and a husband and money in Los Angeles. I was owed a grown up life because that’s just what was supposed to happen. I don’t feel that way anymore.

I remember feeling excited over something as small as new music or the new issue of a magazine, of feeling excited whenever someone cute would kiss me, of feeling lucky that I’m able to do the things I do, of feeling like everything was going to be okay no matter what. Luckily, I still feel this way. (THANK SWEET CHRIST!)

imfineitsnothing:

Read it this, and then read this. 

As for number 2: I don’t really need to wear a bra — superfluous, really. And so much so that you couldn’t tell if I were / weren’t anyways.

Unlike in the United States, where home buying traditionally takes place after marriage, owning a place in China has recently become a prerequisite for tying the knot. Experts said securing an apartment in this market signals that a man is successful, family-oriented and able to weather challenging financial circumstances. Put succinctly, homeownership has become the ultimate symbol of virility in today’s China.

[…]

[Zhang] acknowledges he must begin saving money for an apartment, but he resents being judged by his inability to purchase property. He would rather have a woman love him for his charm than for the roof he puts over her head.

Last night, I brought up this article with my mom, specifically mentioning the bolded section. She then delivered a mini speech/rant about how hypocritical it was that some men criticized women for being superficial golddiggers, when those same men often pursued women based on her appearance and attractiveness.

After several years of teenage angst of isolation, I’m pleasantly surprised to rediscover this side of my mom. :)

youmightfindyourself:

By: JENNA WORTHAM
Published by NY Times, 4/10/2011 

ONE recent rainy night, I curled up on my couch with popcorn and Netflix Instant, ready to spend a quiet night at home. The peace was sweet — while it lasted. Soon, my iPhone began flashing with notifications from a handful of social networking sites, each a beacon of information about what my friends were doing.

As the alerts came in, my mind began to race. Three friends, I learned, had arrived at a music venue near my apartment. But why? What was happening there? Then I saw pictures of other friends enjoying fancy milkshakes at a trendy restaurant. Suddenly, my simple domestic pleasures paled in comparison with the things I could be doing.

The flurry of possibilities set off a rush of restlessness and indecision. I was torn between nesting in my cozy roost or rallying for an impromptu rendezvous, and I just didn’t know what to do.

My problem is emblematic of the digital era. It’s known as FOMO, or “fear of missing out,” and refers to the blend of anxiety, inadequacy and irritation that can flare up while skimming social media like Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare and Instagram. Billions of Twitter messages, status updates and photographs provide thrilling glimpses of the daily lives and activities of friends, “frenemies,” co-workers and peers.

The upside is immeasurable. Viewing postings from my friends scattered around the country often makes me feel more connected to them, not less. News and photographs of the bike rides, concerts, dinner parties and nights on the town enjoyed by people in my New York social circle are invaluable as an informal to-do list of local recommendation.

But, occasionally, there is a darker side.

When we scroll through pictures and status updates, the worry that tugs at the corners of our minds is set off by the fear of regret, according to Dan Ariely, author of “Predictably Irrational” and a professor of psychology and behavioral economics at Duke University. He says we become afraid that we’ve made the wrong decision about how to spend our time.

Streaming social media have an immediacy that is very different from, say, a conversation over lunch recounting the events of the previous weekend. When you see that your friends are sharing a bottle of wine without you — and at that very moment — “you can imagine how things could be different,” Professor Ariely said.

It’s like a near miss in real life. “When would you be more upset?” he asked. “After missing your flight by two minutes or two hours?

“Two minutes, of course,” he said. “You can imagine how things could have been different, and that really motivates us to behave in strange ways.”

Fear of missing out does not apply only to those with a hyperactive nightlife.

A friend who works in advertising told me that she felt fine about her life — until she opened Facebook. “Then I’m thinking, ‘I am 28, with three roommates, and oh, it looks like you have a precious baby and a mortgage,’ ” she said. “And then I wanna die.”

On those occasions, she said, her knee-jerk reaction is often to post an account of a cool thing she has done, or to upload a particularly fun picture from her weekend. This may make her feel better — but it can generate FOMO in another unsuspecting person.

Caterina Fake, co-founder of Flickr, the photo-sharing service, and of Hunch, a recommendation engine, said, “Social software is both the creator and the cure of FOMO,” adding, “It’s cyclical.”

Some creators of social apps say they have constructed their services to make people keep coming back for more, but not for any insidious purpose.

“No one likes to perform in a vacuum,” said Kevin Systrom, the chief executive of Instagram, a mobile photo-sharing application, which allows users to make comments about pictures. The more creative or striking a photograph, the more likely it is to attract favorable attention.

The feedback, Mr. Systrom said, can be slightly addictive. People using Instagram “are rewarded when someone likes it and you keep coming back,” he said.

Whatever angst people may feel when they see someone else having a good time, he said, is probably exaggerated by the overall effect of so many new social data streams pouring into browsers and mobile phones at once.

“We aren’t used to seeing the world as it happens,” he said. “We as humans can only process so much data.”

Of course, fear of missing out is hardly new. It has been induced throughout history by such triggers as newspaper society pages, party pictures and annual holiday letters — and e-mail — depicting people at their festive best. But now, Ms. Fake said, instead of receiving occasional polite updates, we get reminders around the clock, mainlined via the device of our choosing.

SHERRY TURKLE, a professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and author of “Alone Together,” says that as technology becomes ever more pervasive, our relationship to it becomes more intimate, granting it the power to influence decisions, moods and emotions.

“In a way, there’s an immaturity to our relationship with technology,” she said. “It’s still evolving.”

We are struggling with the always-on feeling of connection that the Internet can provide, she said, and we still need to figure out how to limit its influence on our lives. I asked Professor Turkle what people could do to deal with this stress-inducing quandary. She said she would tell herself to “get a grip and separate myself from my iPhone.”

Easier said than done. I’ve tried, but turning off my phone is nearly impossible — I’m not yet ready for that step.

That evening, though, I flipped the phone over to hide its screen. That helped me ignore what my friends were doing. I settled back to enjoy the evening, deciding not to venture out into the cold and misty night. 

The Little Mermaid is a straightforward retelling of the story of humanity’s fall from the Garden of Eden. It is the story of a young woman (Ariel/Eve) covetous of something she does not have (Prince Eric/Fruit of Knowledge), and what it will give her (knowledge/the human world). This desire is forbidden to her (by King Triton/God). But she listens to the advice of something evil (the snake/Ursula), and as a result gains the forbidden knowledge. Ultimately, she leaves the Garden of Eden forever. Both Eve and Ariel decide, with a little encouragement, to buck the rules and choose knowledge.

[…]

From the moment Ariel signed Ursula’s contract he was powerless. God could not save Eve from Satan. But Prince Eric could, because Disney believes that people don’t need God to protect them from the influences of evil. What they need to bring to the fight is knowledge. Eve defied God and had a dangerously close brush with evil, but she survived because she was helped by the very knowledge God had forbidden.

It’s all very Humanist. And that’s what makes the real difference.

Disney gives the Fall a happy ending, because from that perspective it’s a happy story. Mankind escapes ignorance and enters into a world of vastly richer experience. It’s harder, and it’s more dangerous, but it’s for the best. Disney sees that humanity, like Ariel, just wasn’t made for Paradise. And they believe that God recognizes that too. King Triton doesn’t give Ariel legs out of anger, even though the result is that she will leave Paradise forever. He does it out of love, because that is the only life she will truly be fulfilled. There are no curses or punishments. They share a moment of understanding, and then say goodbye, with Ariel sailing into the sunset on the arm of Prince Secular Knowledge.

Lots of posts today…I’m digging through the starred articles in my Google Reader.

I don’t think this comparison is what Disney had in mind when they made The Little Mermaid (lol “Prince Secular Knowledge”), but it’s still a really interesting read. The last paragraph reminds me so much of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy.

As kids, we still play freely and explore the world as if it was a big and beautiful Wonderland (if we have parents that aren’t too paranoid, that is!). Sometimes we fall down, sometimes we rip our clothes, sometimes we scratch our elbows. And still, we continue to explore, we continue to live an interesting life.

But then, over the years at school, we become more and more serious. And worried. The older we get, the more we learn to focus on avoiding bullshit and becoming upright citizens. Normality grows, worries grow, interestingness almost disappears. We go from Wonderland to Worryland.