Finally, I’m getting really serious
Oh, hi friends!
What would this look like if I was serious?
That’s the question that’s been bouncing around in my head.
Because what if you decided—really decided—to pursue something seriously?
Where would your spend your time?
Where would you spend your money?
How would your day-to-day change?
Not everything has to be drop-dead serious. Hobbies are good (I hear!). But it’s so easy to have a one-foot-in, one-foot-out mentality when it comes to pursuing a new career path or, say, being a writer, or training for a race. You spend a little time working at it, you stop. You flirt, you don’t commit. You guard yourself from failing by never really trying.
But what would it look like if you were serious?
I’m very curious to find out.
“If you have a choice between believing you’re a genius and refusing to believe that you’re a genius, your life gets better when you believe you’re a genius, because it comes with a sort of optimism—a persistence that comes with sharing your gift.
What you get is the privilege of saying, Here, I made this. The privilege of showing up. Not the arrogance of insisting that you be treated like a genius, or insisting that you get that MacArthur Grant. That’s not what I’m proposing. What I’m proposing is that if you are truly generous, you will realize that at least once in your life, you did something original. At least once in your life, you did something for the first time, in a way that no one had ever done it before. And at least once in your life, you contributed something that somebody else needed.
So if you’ve done it once, you’ve committed an act of genius. Just once.”
I’ve been a fan of Seth Godin for a long time. (His blog/newsletter is a must-read!) Very glad to have his new podcast Akimbo in my ears. This is from the episode “Genius,” which you can listen via desktop here.
But wait, back to his genius question—will you believe you are one? Will you share your gift? Why? Or why not?
My Brother Is Art. Art Is My Brother.
Do you like theater? Do you like art? Do you like to light up your brain?
That bearded fellow in the white jumpsuit is my brother Eric Cotti performing a 50-minute monologue on the opening night of the artist David Levine’s newest exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum. Think about that. Fifty minutes. I can’t talk in front of a crowd for more than 30 seconds without needing to inhale chocolate-covered pretzels for emotional support. But of course he nails it.
“Some of the People, All of the Time” features a rotating cast of actors and explores the idea of fabricated identities and fake crowds. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen! Runs through July 8, but you can see him this week on Thursday, 5/31 at 8pm; Friday, 6/1 at 4pm; Saturday, 6/2 at 6pm; or Sunday, 6/3 at 3pm (I’ll be at that one!).
Also, hanging around the museum reminded me of how sacred these spaces are—quiet, contemplative, and (usually) devoid of the scroll-scroll of your phone. I want to be in that headspace much more often.
PS — Oh hi, new friends!
This week, I wrote about how to construct the perfect email subject line for The New York Times’ Smarter Living section. (My favorite tip is to compliment the other person. Never fails!)
So if that sent you here, welcome! I’ll be in your inbox at 7:30 a.m. EST every weekday. (Here’s my archive to give a sense of what you’re in for.)
We won’t discuss the news, but we will talk about work and careers, productivity, balance, Sondheim songs, stories I find interesting, writing advice, and more. I pass along jobs that sound decent and good apartments in the city and videos that might make you laugh or think or cry. I’ll rip off the Band-Aid on my own creative failures and successes as a journalist, playwright, screenwriter, and Porg owner living in Brooklyn. (More about me.)
Basically, I want you to wake up and read this and have the best day possible.
And I’d be very glad to hear about your life! Because we’re all in this together. That's the whole point. So hit reply anytime.
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Thanks, as always, for reading.
Love, Kara