Momentos – Sept 2013

These are my Momentos, short personal diary entries I write daily – since 2013 – and publish monthly. Some links are affiliate links.

1

I hear from one mate who’s just had his first threesome, and another who thinks I’m crazy for passing up all the ass on offer here in Hong Kong. But I’m just not feeling it, no interest right now. And it’s nice in a way, not feeling that urge. I’ve often been a slave to it, would regret giving into the fear and not striking up a conversation. Now it’s not the fear that stops me, it’s that I really couldn’t be arsed. Let me go home and get back to work.

2

Earlier I posted up a half-naked pic of myself on Facebook, showing off the new physique. I’m in the best shape of my life, but hesitant to flaunt it. I’m not sure why. I don’t mind when other people show off some skin on there. I find it inspiring to see friends looking chiseled. And I don’t mind spilling my guts in writing, putting my most intimate thoughts online for everyone to read. So why so shy about my body?

3

I’m tired, had less than four hours of sleep, but I get up at 5am anyway and run those steps, bust out the core and pullup workout. Last week my running shoes went missing. I’m pretty sure the cleaner threw them out by mistake, though she denies it. I’ve been running since in my Patagonia trail boots, and going barefoot at Krav Maga class. I’m too cheap to buy new running shoes, too committed to quit training.

4

My main income stream, the one I can’t really talk about, has me torn. I know I could optimize and scale and build that business to the high heavens. Other guys in the same line of work are pulling $30k a month. Problem is the secrecy. I don’t like keeping quiet. I want to build a legit, profitable, value-adding business and then yell, “Hey everyone, here’s how I did it, and here’s how you can, too!”

5

I wrote a blog post in about twenty minutes today, much faster and easier than normal. I had to resist the urge to keep tinkering with it. I have a tendency to do that, feeling as if my writing’s no good unless I bleed to birth it. This may also be the reason why I struggle to ask for help. It feels a bit like cheating to me, like I can’t really claim credit for something if I didn’t do it all myself. It’s silly, I know. But a belief I can’t quite shake.

6

Try notice something you’ve never noticed before. This is a game I sometimes play while walking familiar streets. It’s easy to win, because there’s always something. Like the fire hydrant at the corner of my apartment building that I noticed for the first time today. Shit, I can even play this game in my room right now, while I’m writing this. See, the walls are beige. I’d never consciously noted their color before. Amazing what we miss.

7

Seriously blown away by this guy. It’s a Friday night and he’s obviously tired after getting off a delayed flight. He could be spending time with his girlfriend, could have let Andy handle the interview, could have just coasted and offered up verbal shrugs. But no. He’s present and committed to delivering value and kindness. I have a holy-shit-aha moment on the call as he speaks. And that’s it, one hundred percent sold. I have got to get into The Foundation this year.

8

I’ve been in hyperdrive for several days now, mind constantly racing, ripping through work, ideas relentless. I haven’t slept as much as I’d like, but my energy feels fine… for now. I love these periods of peak productivity, but I know I need to be careful. They’re often followed by a crash, and I’ve got so many plates spinning that a crash would prove disastrous right about now.

9

This should give you an idea of how antisocial I’ve been here in Hong Kong: I barely know the three people I share the apartment with. There’s a married couple from India and a lady from the Philippines. They’re all cool and friendly, but I’m consciously limiting our conversations to small talk. I think it bugs the Filipina quite a bit. Last night she invited me to watch Game of Thrones, but I opted to get some work done instead.

10

Down an alley by the Western Market there’s a photo of a HK street scene some hundred or so years ago, blown-up to the size of a baby billboard. In the lower right corner there’s a man dressed in white, walking towards the camera. They say we all die two deaths. The first when breath leaves lungs and heartbeats cease. The second when someone speaks your name for the last time. I wonder if anyone remembers that man’s name.

11

I used to have two modes. Social and mechanical. I went through periods of the latter whenever I was deep in a web design project. Coding would have me thinking like a robot. I’d try banter with a human and the words wouldn’t compute. To get in a social flow I’d have to spend a few days easing off the work stuff. More recently though, I’m finding it easy to snap into social mode. Or perhaps it’s that my work has become more social.

12

We park asses at a quiet beachside restaurant and continue the conversation. It’s been flowing effortlessly all day. Like me, she writes. And like me, her writing sometimes rubs people the wrong way. We talk about transparency and where to draw the line. “Is there anything you want to write about but can’t?” Yeah, two things. What happened in my teens. And what happened in Bucharest.

13

Two reminders. First, remember that your assessment skills are poor when you’re tired, self-assessment especially. Second, remember that champions do things even when they don’t want to do them. That in mind… I was pretty sure I ran a lousy roundtable this eve. I just wanted to go to bed after and forget about it. But instead I made myself send out a survey and gather anonymous feedback. Two responses so far. They both loved it. Huh.

14

I’ve gotten good at walking out of restaurants. I used to be very hesitant to go in and check a place out, the menu, the prices, etc. Especially the smaller places, where you know the guy greeting you is also the owner. I always felt like I’d be disappointing him if I left. Nowadays? Fuck it. I figure if I’m not liking something and stay anyway, I’m being insincere. Walked out of two places this eve. Had a great meal at a third.

15

Leaving yourself no other choice is a good way to get things done. You need to paint yourself into a corner. I told the guy paying me that I’d have that project finished today. I told my Mastermind group that I’d give up two weeks of cheat day if I failed to deliver. So there was no fucking way I was dropping the ball. I got just five hours sleep last night, must have put in a dozen hours on that one project this weekend. Now I’m done. And delighted.

16

It’s 9am on a Monday. I’ve been up for four hours. I didn’t want to get up. I wrapped a huge project yesterday, capping an almost 80-hour workweek. After five hours kip I dragged myself out of bed and pushed through a solid workout in the drizzling Hong Kong dawn. Now I look down at the busy street from my window, at everyone headed to work. I smile, close the curtains, and crawl back into bed for a long, well-earned nap.

17

I need to be careful. From these emails it seems a lot of people have begun to view me as some kind of authority on business. But I’m far from that. I’ve seen online types make big money by advising others how to make big money, not by building a real nuts and bolts business. I don’t want to become one of those guys. Might be able to fool some people and make it work, but I’d never fool myself.

18

The last four days I’ve averaged just over six hours of sleep, and I’m under seven for the month. Wanting to catch up last night I went to bed early… and lay there for three full hours before dozing off. Today I decided I’m not going to worry about lack of sleep. I’m functioning just fine. I’m reminded of what Kelly McGonigal said about stress: it’s not the stress itself that harms you, but your believing that it does.

19

I’m going to miss Hong Kong. There are certain places where you transform. New Jersey in ’04 was one. New Orleans was another. Amsterdam a couple of years ago. India last year. It’s not so much the place that you miss. It’s that awakening, the leveling up, the deeper knowing of self. I paused my workout this morning at KGP to take in the elderly ladies doing their tai chi with brightly colored fans. I almost cried I was so grateful.

20

I watch Danny Dover’s excellent TEDx Talk and email him my commendations. He replies saying he’s familiar with my blog and also happens to be in Hong Kong right now. An hour later we’re meeting in the flesh and chatting it up over dinner, followed by a long stroll through the sloped streets. Legend of a chap. I fucking love the Internet.

21

The afternoon disappears as we sit chatting over empty glasses. She’s got dreams undefined, knows she needs a change. I try listen more than I talk, always a challenge but I do a decent job of it this time. I’m full of answers and ideas, but I have to remind myself to first figure out the questions. When I succeed, the answers are usually self-evident, yet different than expected.

22

There’s a storm coming, biggest typhoon of the year they say, perhaps the decade. We meet at the Intercontinental regardless. Milestone birthday for him tomorrow, and his first big business launch happening later this week. We drink iced coffee, eat tiny cakes and sandwiches. Word from the waitress is a signal eight as the light fades. We head back underground and say our goodbyes. We may meet again in Chiang Mai a month from now.

23

The water fountains in the parks are marked to show when they were last inspected and the filters changed. It’s always within the past three months. Old people aren’t startled by hurried footsteps heard behind them. The land that crime forgot. I mentioned once that the lock on my door was loose and there arrived two guys to fix it the same week. No reminder required.

24

Self-discipline is a muscle, and there are tons of opportunities to practice. I usually eat too fast, so I set a timer for breakfast in the morning, not allowed finish until fifteen minutes have passed. Today I decided on a new ritual: I’ll wait at least one minute before digging in when I sit down to eat. I just have to sit there and wait, savoring the sight and smell of the food, practicing delayed gratification.

25

I cheat with my push-ups. I should really do them slower, more controlled. But I’d have quit weeks ago if I’d stuck to that. Seeing my rep-count increase regularly motivates me to keep going. What’s better: two weeks of perfect then quit, or indefinite weeks of good enough? Same with diet. Six days eating healthy and one cheat day is more sustainable than trying to be perfect all the time. Cheat in battle, win the war.

26

Final evening, one to be savored. I hang back at the Po Kee and enjoy a cuppa before grabbing a happy snap with my Hong Kong moms. On to the supermarket where coconut talk is had with a random Aussie chick in a floppy hat. I stroll back slow to the apartment, bag heavy with gifts and buds in my ears, a secret soundtrack stoking my warm buzz for this city. I’ve been happy here.

27

There’s a thrill that comes with it, every time I pack my bags and blow town. It’s Friday lunchtime and everyone’s bustling by in work wear, rushing to grab a bite. I move through the mob almost invisible, in jeans and a t-shirt, a glitch in their matrix. This time tomorrow I’ll be in Nanning. Sunday, Hanoi. Next week, Vientiane, then Bangkok, then Chiang Mai. And they’ll all still be here, lunching on blue pills.

28

If you ever want to feel like Brad Pitt, come to Nanning and walk around town some Saturday afternoon. Pretty young girls with their half-talk code of mysteries, their wink-and-elbow language of delight. But nare a dance at Billy Brennan’s barn tonight. Not for me anyways. I answer emails and edit video as darkness falls on China’s green city.

29

We zip through several intersections on red, dodging cross traffic. There are two cops stationed at one junction but they don’t seem to give a shit. Eventually we reach the Old Quarter and he flashes a yellow-toothed grin as we get off the bike. I hand him 100 and insist on 40 change, as agreed. Fecker makes a fuss about it but I stand my ground. I’d have gladly given it all if I’d detected an ounce of honesty in the man.

30

I follow him out of the restaurant and tap his shoulder. He turns, a bit startled. “Hi, I just wanted to meet you after overhearing the nice thing you did for the two deaf girls in there. You’re an inspiration.” His name is John, an Englishman living in Perth, almost in his sixties. We chat for a few minutes about accents and kindness before he shakes one of my hands with both of his and disappears into the buzzing streets of Hanoi.