Lost in Translation

1. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

It’s not just for grade-schoolers anymore. College students – and beyond – ask that of each other, or of themselves, and it’s only half a joke. What do I want to do when I grow up?

The problem is twofold: first, we don’t seem to have figured out when we’re supposed to have grown up; and second, in our mid-twenties, we still don’t know what we want to do. Having lots of options is a great thing. Indecision, well, not so much.

2. “You’re not living up to your potential.”

I’ve read three blog posts in as many days about what Hugh MacLeod calls the Gray Zone, in which you’re “NOT fully alive– when you’re just bum­bling along, half-awake, sleep­wal­king through life”. This is contrasted to the Red Zone, in which you’re “crea­ting something, making art, making love, watching the sun set, wha­te­ver. When all your synap­ses are firing.”

The other blogs didn’t look at it quite the same way. Their Red Zone was succeeding at what you wanted to do; their Gray Zone (Justine even calls it a “gray area”, but the similarity is, I’m sure, accidental) was not succeeding because you didn’t try. (Let’s call the third, trying and not succeeding, the Black Zone, just for sake of reference.) And both of them had similar things to say about the Gray Zone: that it’s comfortable (it is), and that it’s self-perpetuating, because we can sit in the Gray Zone and say “I’d be in the Red Zone if only I applied myself and lived up to my potential.” It lets us say “I’m a winner in waiting”. Because we’ve convinced ourselves that we could be winners if we just tried, we don’t have to try. The potential is good enough.

3. Sum, Ergo Sum.

That’s Latin. (I studied Latin for six years in middle and high school, and for three more in college.) It means “I am, therefore I am.” It also means “just saying ‘I want to be’ or ‘I could be’ isn’t enough”.

It’s easy to underestimate the power that simple declarations can give us. We’re taught from an early age that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me”, but the unfortunate converse of that is that we learn that “simple” words can never help us either. It feels right to say that just saying something doesn’t make it so. But it does.

A declaration – I am – is a line in the sand. It’s a demarcation: you have separated yourself from the Gray Zone and “want to be” and “could be”. You might say “I am an artist”, or “I am an accountant”; regardless of what you are, saying that that is what you are gives you the ability to put the force of faith behind it.

Nobody can say that you are not but you.

If you aren’t familiar with it, the Pareto Principle is simple: 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes. In the context of productivity, that can be read to mean that 80% of the results come from 20% of the effort. The thrust of the idea – which has been a productivity darling for a while now – is that you should pare down to the 20% of the effort that’s generating 80% of the results. Sure, you lose 20% of your results, but you gain back 80% of your day.

Here’s the problem with the Pareto Principle: it’s missing a key statement, one it shares (or ought to) with Hofstadter’s Law. “80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes, even when you account for the Pareto Principle.”

In other words, let’s say that it’s true that 20% of your work produces 80% of your results. So you cut out the 80% of the work that’s only producing 20% of the results. Now the earlier 20% is now 100%, and the earlier 80% is also 100%. But doesn’t the Pareto Principle still apply? 20% of that 100% effort produces 80% of those 100% results.

As a wise woman once said, “it’s turtles all the way down.”