I think a lot of folks feel like you should be doing these certain things like writing the great American novel or reading the 100 Greatest Movies of All-Time when in actuality these are achievements that have no real guarantee of happiness. Unless you are truly enjoying those journeys, there is no reason to set upon them.

I don't think there is anything wrong with having hopes and dreams, but I do feel that maybe we allow those things to be excuses for not living a content life. I also think at times we hold onto old dreams that no longer serve us, instead of focusing on something new and more applicable to your current situation.

adulthood wasn't full of Ferraris and mansions, and I found out rather quickly that I wasn't going to save anyone, because I was struggling to save myself.

The life of an optimist is hard but exciting. Pessimism is easy because it costs nothing. Optimism is hard because it must be constantly reaffirmed.

Dreams are delicate and easy to destroy. When an idea presents itself, try to imagine the best version of it — what would make this idea great?

Pessimism and optimism share a trait: both are self-fulfilling. Your intention influences the outcome. Call it karma or, simply, effort.

Real life doesn't start tomorrow, or on the weekend. It doesn't start when you graduate, or when you land a job, or when you quit your job. It doesn’t start once you get a handle on your anxiety, or fix your sleep schedule, or finish all the tasks in your to-do list.

Real life is made of moments like this. It’s waking up with dread and clutching at your phone for relief. It’s being mildly frustrated at all your friends for the various ways in which they don’t understand you. Real life is wiping the lint from your dryer, it’s scrubbing the same pan clean for the hundredth time, it’s being surprised that even with all the fun of a friday night, you’re just as sad to say goodbye, just as sad as when you were a child.

We spend most of our time waiting, and very few precious moments feeling like we’ve finally arrived. We defer our willingness to bask in reality to tomorrow, and then the next day, and then the next, until we forget we ever deferred anything.

But what if you don’t need to wait until you’ve meditated for decades, what if you’re closer to that than you think? What if you were more often baffled by the fact that you’re still alive, if you began to ask of this moment, of every moment: what do you have to teach me?

You know that feeling you get when you hear the good news you’ve been waiting for, or when you’re so enthralled in conversation you forget that you haven’t checked your phone for hours, or when the rain has settled and you step into the forest and the freshness of the air wrests your lungs open and everything feels perfectly in place?

You’re inflight, you’re falling through the sky, everything feels half-complete, there is so much more you meant to do, there are so many things you’re behind on, so many things you haven’t said. I’m right there with you. This is it, the madness we were born into and have no choice but to face. Real life is more and more of this and then it’s over.

Last year I burnt myself out on introspection and developed a personal philosophy to “take action towards things I think I want until I can come up with a good reason to stop.” Operating in this way might make me look flighty from the outside but on the inside, I know it’s one of the main reasons my life continues to feel like it’s getting better and better — experimentation till I find the things that feel really right.And really right is what I’m going for. Not right on paper, not right only if I turn off my brain, and definitely not right only in the eyes of others. In my book, a good decision is one you know in your heart, mind, and body to be true for you. Some call this discernment, others call it wisdom. All I know is that it’s really hard to find.

Now, uncertainty is a fact of life — one of the few universal rules to this grand, intricate game we’re all playing. As I understand it, the game goes as such: First, conquer your fear of rejection. Second, conquer your fear of uncertainty. Along the way, you’ll need to reckon with your fear of cringe.

But you know what helps? Actually listening to yourself. Not just the insecure parts of you that have something to prove and find it fun to root around for meaning in the struggle. No. It’s the voices that care about your experiencing day-to-day contentedness, belonging, and don’t believe that everything should feel hard that deserve the megaphone — they often sound quite similar to a best friend or parent.

being loved completely actually does the opposite — it motivates me to become more concentratedly myself by providing the comfort of verified belief in my own value. I mention the love thing because I think it has a lot more to do with what makes a decision good than we like to admit (maybe because it’s cringe!). But as Julie Dempsey says in Before Sunrise: “Isn't everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?”

Gatekeepers could see themselves not only as talent hunters for their own organization, but also as managers of society’s collective supply of ambition. We could demand that they consider it a responsibility to waste as little of their applicants’ ambition as possible. That they strive to redirect and allocate that ambition wherever it is most needed.

In practice, there isn’t any single solution. Rejection is a facet of life, and everybody needs to figure out their own strategies to cope with it. The most I can offer is that it’s better when you’re aware of how it works. It isn’t enough to know, on an abstract level, that rejection is typically random and impersonal — but it helps.