“Technology is called an addiction after it becomes fully integrated with our lives and before we've forgotten life without it.”
The hallmark of expertise is no longer how much you know. It's how well you synthesize.
Information scarcity rewarded knowledge acquisition. Information abundance requires pattern recognition.
It's not enough to collect facts. The future belongs to those who connect dots.
@ebookscafe #Books #Lifeadvice
Information scarcity rewarded knowledge acquisition. Information abundance requires pattern recognition.
It's not enough to collect facts. The future belongs to those who connect dots.
@ebookscafe #Books #Lifeadvice
My father does not care.
In the same way my wife’s eyes glaze over on NFL Game Day
He does not care
Like talking stocks with six-year-olds
It’s not that they don’t want to listen,
It’s that they don’t care.
Like a butcher at a vegan farmer’s market,
A sober man at an Irish bar,
Like me at your escape room birthday party.
He does not care.
I called my dad when I got my first record deal,
Full of excitement, emotions, feelings.
I said, “Dad, I made it—and the check is pretty big.”
I said, “Dad, you’re gonna have a successful kid.”
I said, “I’ll buy a house,
And one for you, too,
With a gate and the clickers and big open rooms.”
I said, “Dad, don’t you worry,
This is just the beginning,
The tables are tipping,
We’re finally winning.”
He responded like
My 85-year-old grandma, completely unamused
With an iPhone in her hand, like
What does this even do?
Like an American at a cricket match—confused.
He said, “Son, that’s fantastic,
I’m so happy for you.”
You see, my father does not care about anything but my heart.
He knows that wealth and worth have always been super far apart.
And when I showed him my BMW with the new push start,
He faked enthusiasm terribly, like, “Yeah, great car.”
My father’s eyes light up when I talk about my soul.
He wants details of every kid I sang to at the hospital.
We can talk for hours about anything I’ve done for the homeless,
And when my prayer game is strong and I am centered, he notices.
The thing about sons? We just wanna make our dads proud.
We know the songs they like and sing those extra loud.
And I’m pretty clear about how to get my father’s attention now:
Be of service to myself or to others—that’s how.
Someday, I might be massive with my face in Times Square.
Fly only private, lie flat through the air.
Someday, I might become a bajillionaire.
The best part is—
My father does not care.
@ebookscafe #Poem
In the same way my wife’s eyes glaze over on NFL Game Day
He does not care
Like talking stocks with six-year-olds
It’s not that they don’t want to listen,
It’s that they don’t care.
Like a butcher at a vegan farmer’s market,
A sober man at an Irish bar,
Like me at your escape room birthday party.
He does not care.
I called my dad when I got my first record deal,
Full of excitement, emotions, feelings.
I said, “Dad, I made it—and the check is pretty big.”
I said, “Dad, you’re gonna have a successful kid.”
I said, “I’ll buy a house,
And one for you, too,
With a gate and the clickers and big open rooms.”
I said, “Dad, don’t you worry,
This is just the beginning,
The tables are tipping,
We’re finally winning.”
He responded like
My 85-year-old grandma, completely unamused
With an iPhone in her hand, like
What does this even do?
Like an American at a cricket match—confused.
He said, “Son, that’s fantastic,
I’m so happy for you.”
You see, my father does not care about anything but my heart.
He knows that wealth and worth have always been super far apart.
And when I showed him my BMW with the new push start,
He faked enthusiasm terribly, like, “Yeah, great car.”
My father’s eyes light up when I talk about my soul.
He wants details of every kid I sang to at the hospital.
We can talk for hours about anything I’ve done for the homeless,
And when my prayer game is strong and I am centered, he notices.
The thing about sons? We just wanna make our dads proud.
We know the songs they like and sing those extra loud.
And I’m pretty clear about how to get my father’s attention now:
Be of service to myself or to others—that’s how.
Someday, I might be massive with my face in Times Square.
Fly only private, lie flat through the air.
Someday, I might become a bajillionaire.
The best part is—
My father does not care.
@ebookscafe #Poem