People who’ve got something to say: Paul Graham

Perhaps the best writers are those who can get you to care about something you would normally find boring. That’s what Paul Graham did for me with computers and programming. Not only does he write with experience about entrepreneurship as well or better than anyone I’ve ever read, but he makes the computer programmer, known as a “hacker” in his parlance, seem like a sort of magician with code, capable of solving any problem or inventing a Willy-Wonka-esque array of tools and toys for the public to enjoy.  Despite having almost no background in computers, Graham makes me want to be a hacker, as naïve as that might sound.  

Hacker?

What surprised me most about Graham’s conception of a programmer was his unwavering emphasis on creativity.  My stereotype of creativity revolves around artists, writers, painters, and musicians.  Paul Graham’s book, Hackers and Painters, likens computer programmers to painters.  He views talent for hackers in much the same way as he would an artist – one might judge either based on the ability to take a blank canvass and make something extraordinary that others can appreciate and enjoy.  If you can’t do that, you’re not much of a hacker or a painter. 

Graham’s skill as a writer fits with his vision of programmer.  He thinks good code is parsimonious and efficient, and that’s the way he writes as well. His book and his essays pack considerable information and analysis into terse prose, which makes it easy to learn a lot about starting a business and programming by reading his site.   

Hating What You Do

Hating your job is the antithesis of carpe diem.  Rather than embracing the precious few moments you have in life, you consciously decide to dedicate your one and only existence to working on that which you do not believe.  It’s perhaps the most dangerous and self-destroying habit you can have.  It’s even worse than drug addiction or alcoholism.  An addict at least tries to get the most out of life – it’s just that their method is usually wanting.  Those who hate their jobs know that what they want out of life and what they do every day are in direct contrast.  But they do it anyway.

It’s taking the most precious gift you will ever receive, pissing on it, lighting it on fire, and throwing it out the window. 

I’m not talking about menial labor or less-than-ideal employment.  Everyone would rather be a rock star than a janitor, but there is no shame in doing difficult or unpleasant tasks. I’ve had jobs ranging from Taco Bell to basic labor and janitorial work.  Someone’s gotta take out the trash – and sometimes that someone was me.  Dirty work never made me feel bad about myself.

But being a lawyer certainly did.

A few months ago, I quit my job as a lawyer.  I had hated it for years, but I kept doing it anyway, because the economy sucked, and I was being paid what was, by my standards, a good amount of money. I was a small cog in a large wheel, representing the largest companies on the planet in their attempts to avoid liability for whatever misdeeds or mistakes they may have made in the past. 

I don’t want to overstate how nefarious the law firm I worked for was.  My old law firm probably had more in common with General Electric than with the dastardly law firms you see in movies or TV.  Most of the crap we did was dull and stultifying, performed for the highest bidder.  But it was rarely evil -- just soul-destroyingly boring, and entirely unfulfilling.

But the entire time I was there, I wasn’t doing anyone favors but myself. And by the time I left, even that wasn’t true.

Uncertainty, Imperfection, and Blogging

Well, how did I get here?

Once upon a time, my defining characteristic was my confidence.  I believed, perhaps irrationally so, that I was an extraordinary talent who was destined for great things. Now, I am 34 years old.  My life is excellent -- I don't lack anything that I need. But my life is also mundane.  I live in a modest house, drive a modest car, and rarely do anything that could be considered extraordinary.  Until recently, I practiced law and held a boring job.

But, despite having all the time one could ask for, it would appear that I'm not doing great things -- or even, for that matter, things of middling interest to others.  This is mildly disconcerting.  If I have all the time I want now, and I'm not doing anything interesting, then it doesn't look likely to happen ever. 

This makes me want to blog more.  I don't necessarily aspire to great things any longer. That adolescent hubris is well dead and buried. But I aspire to be active, involved, and engaged.  I think writing and publishing often -- even if it's in a self-indulgent, scarcely read blog, might help to accomplish that goal.

And that's all I have to say about that. For now.