The Love of the Game
by PD
This past week I’ve watched and listened to a few “inspirational” videos, and they’ve left me, along with a sense of excitement, a fair number of questions. Confusion was one of the last things I expected from being inspired. Here’s my predicament. First, I watch a video like this compilation video of Will Smith‘s insights into life. I get excited. I feel injected with passion and vivacity. I get ready to go. Then what?
Nothing.
WHAT?!, I think to myself. You just spent all that time getting yourself hyped up for…. sitting in your room and doing nothing with your life?
Why? I feel like I just took the magic pill that’s supposed to instantly change me, and I find myself still sitting in the chair, unchanged to the world. It’s not working, I tell myself. You’re doing it wrong. Ugh.
Last week, as I drove in the car with my mom across the country, I listened to a Radiolab podcast entitled “The Secrets of Success”. The main guest for the show was Malcolm Gladwell (author of Blink and The Tipping Point). The show opened with a discussion of the idea of the 10,000-hour expert. Several groups of European scientists, as well as Gladwell himself, have promoted an idea that it takes approximately 10,000 hours of work before one becomes a true expert in his field. This is true, they said, of labeled geniuses Bill Gates, Wayne Gretzky, and The Beatles. But what differentiates these few individuals from others who spend their lives on a single field or subject? Gladwell and the hosts agreed on a certain amount of luck, but everyone agreed there was still something missing. One of the hosts brought up the idea of a “rare ability”. Geniuses, he said, have a certain level of talent that push them into the category of “genius”. They have a rare ability within their field or subject matter that enables them to surpass everyone else.
Gladwell, however, had an entirely different idea. It’s not rare ability that makes a genius–at least, that’s not an innate cause. What makes a genius become who he is is an extraordinary love for what he’s doing. The host immediately skepticized. ”Love? LOVE? That’s your grand idea? Geniuses loOove their subject so much, and that’s what makes them geniuses? I loOove music, but that doesn’t mean I’m a music genius.” Gladwell and the host went back and forth for much of the show, when finally Gladwell put the final swing into the nail.
“They can’t get it out of their head. It’s practically a romantic love. Every moment of every day, they’re thinking about it. Absent that, I’m sorry, but you can’t be a genius.” The audience exploded in applause, and the host finally conceded.
——-
Now, I certainly don’t claim to be a genius, but that show got me thinking. If I expect to become a real expert in something, I better darn well love it. Really, truly, want to do something because I can’t get it out of my head every single solitary day.
Is programming it?
Uhhh.
$%*!, I think to myself. I mean, I enjoy playing around with computers and the ability to create something with a programming language (especially one so straightforward and “elegant” as Ruby on Rails) is certainly fulfilling, but the love of writing web applications itself… just isn’t there, in and of itself.
So, if I expect myself to really produce, then what do I love?
This feels like one of those “what are your post-graduation plans”-kind of questions, except worse. This isn’t just about the year after college. This is about LIFE. Reminds me of a quote from a friend after posing a disruptive thought. ”Just asking the tough questions.”
So what is it?
“Communication” comes close, but it doesn’t really do justice to what I love. I love understanding how people interact, resolve conflict, and get excited about things. Whether it’s trying to express an intense emotion in writing or manage a crisis situation or speaking in front of a crowd to get them hyped up for changing peoples’ minds about how we obtain energy for our homes, I thrive on intertwining empathy and logic into something friendly, accessible, and appealing to people. I love puzzles, especially human ones. If I could do a third major, it would have been either in sociology or psychology.
So how do I translate my love into motivation? It’s not easy, especially when I have a somewhat-nebulous love. I think what my motive has to be is working my real love into other projects, goals, and initiatives. I mean, although I’ve touted plenty how I’d like to become a lawyer, Law itself isn’t a complete match with my love, my passion. But I think I can infuse my love into it–they’re easily compatible. Programming, however, is a slightly different story. In order to really turn my love towards web applications, I have to frame my work properly to myself. I have to, first, get past the hump of initial learning, understanding the basics of programming, how things work. A necessary evil, if you will. Then I can get into the part where my love can actually apply. Working towards greater understanding. Matching processes with how people think. Intuit design.
And then, write. Content is probably where I’ll shine the most, and will be where my real skills, my love, and my passion will shine. That’s the end-goal, the justification for the hours of coding upon which my passion will flourish.
Inspiration is useless without love. Inspiration is fuel, but without an engine, you won’t be going anywhere. Love gives my inspiration meaning.