Quotes of the Week from Me:

“Commit to this phrase as long as possible: ‘I want to get good at this’.”

“Some of the best mornings start in diners, bakeries, and in the outdoors.”

“Whether you come from nothing or something, go somewhere.”

“Embrace the unexpected.”

Quotes of the Week from Someone Else:

“The most important decision you make is to be in a good mood.” – Voltaire

“The greatest of follies is to sacrifice health for any other kind of happiness.” – Arthur Schopenhauer

“Nobody knows anything.” – William Goldman

Quick Optimism

“I want to get good at this.”

I really appreciate you all for reading along each week. You hold me accountable to creativity, reading, and to starting the week on a positive note.

As I approach nearly 8 months of articles, stories, and the Weekly Optimist Newsletter, I’d like to offer some simple and renowned, yet difficult advice.

It. Takes. Time.

Yes, you can list out your goals. Yes, you can expect a lot of yourself. But it all takes time. It took me 20 years to get good at baseball. It took over 10 years to get stronger in the gym. It took 4 years to earn a college degree. It has taken all of my 28 years to learn how to write. I can always get stronger, learn more, and write better. This applies to everything I (we) do in life.

So slow down. Take the time you need. Expect little. Share the most, especially your questions.

We all want to achieve our goals. We are all running our own races. The distance is unknown. There will be detours. Sometimes the finish line might even move.

When the unexpected happens, it is not an excuse to stop. It is a reason to keep moving forward, to keep learning, and to enjoy the process. Don’t expect to be good from day one. Even if you get lucky or pick up a new skill quickly, the momentum will eventually shift. Know you can get better. Commit to “I want to get good at this” as long as you possibly can.

Full Newsletter

“I want to get good at this.”

If you have made it to the full newsletter this week, I’d say you want to get good at staying positive on Mondays. It looks good on you! Keep it up! Keep going.

This week I thought about what I want to get good at. It has been so many things on so many levels. If you read the Quick Optimism section above, you’ll notice it took several years to master some of the skills I have, and it was before I had kids.

At times it feels like too much is getting crammed into my day. I have started to enjoy running a bit more, but want to maintain my weight room totals. I really enjoy reading and writing, but want to play with my family. I want to see friends but want to take my wife on a date. I want to do all of these things all the time but sometimes it doesn’t feel manageable even on paternity leave. I go back to work on July 1. Then what?

This week I can’t stop thinking, “I want to get good at writing.” I don’t expect it to happen in a few days or after a few newsletters. But I have committed to decades of improvement in other areas, so I’ll do the same again. What do you want to get good at this week? This year? This decade?

I think good writing requires good connections, asking questions, and confidence. It requires reading between the lines without stretching them too much. It means establishing interest with an audience and providing important, relatable information. Above all, good writing requires getting words on the page, frequently. The same goes for exercise and a good diet.

Just. Start. Doing. It.

And finally, as always, good writing requires the cliché of a good “hook”. Here is another newsletter with a positive message, and another chance for me to practice succinct story telling with a lesson about life:

In 2009, my parents took my brother and I to Colorado. We grew up skiing in Vermont but had never experienced anything like Vail. A bigger stage with ever-expansive beauty, I imagined it required more than one visit to explore everything that it had to offer. But today’s story is not about the incredible skiing. It’s about a hat.

Now that I am a parent, I can imagine this drove my own parents insane at the time. We were wrapping up our stay with some shopping and we stumbled upon a store with some great outdoor gear. There was a giant wall of hats on one side, and I had decided it was really important to find the perfect one. Not to remember the trip but to look cool, obviously.

I am not sure what I was thinking but I chose a black hat with an orange liner, and it had a green Burton Snowboards logo on the ear. Odd color combo. I remember really wanting a hat with ear flaps and tassels and this fit the description. I must have looked for over an hour. I tried on different styles left and right, accompanied by a handful of warnings that we were leaving soon. I am sure it was more of a, “Pick a f***ing hat so we can leave,” than I thought.

Eventually, we left for the airport. I made sure to pack my hat in my backpack for quick access and to enjoy looking at my souvenir. I was excited to bring it home and wear it.

When I got home and started unpacking, I couldn’t find it anywhere. I had left my backpack unzipped under my seat on the plane. It was gone. I never saw it again.

I came up with way too many analogies to end this story this week, but the one I settled on this time is the insignificance of material things. I am all for some retail therapy. I’ll admit I definitely like nice things. But the time and effort I put into choosing that hat probably wasn’t worth the effort.

Life is like a giant wall of hats. When you pick one, the others become brighter, cozier, and trendier. When you don’t pick one, the options are overwhelming. An abundance of colors and styles can restrict your ability to choose. Everything; writing, lifting, running, parenting, and more are like a giant wall of hats. When you finally make your choice, it may not feel like the right one and it could be gone before you know it.

As many authors tend to do, this week will end with an open-ended contradiction: we make choice both quickly and slowly. Both are effective and circumstantial. Do you think the outcome would have been different if I had just walked up to the wall of hats in 2009, picked the first one I saw, and left? This question doesn’t have to be about hats.

Make it an exceptional Monday.