shawnp0wers

I'm a bloggy blogger who blogs.

An Open Letter to Shaun Lamp, CEO of Great Lakes Energy

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Hello Shaun,

A few months back, I got an email from GLE, which announced your new position as CEO (congrats!), along with other updates about service, fiber internet rollout, etc. One of the things I noticed in the email was that Great Lakes Energy doesn’t actually produce electricity, but buys it from a local supplier. I’m sure it’s more complex than that, but nevertheless, it got me thinking.

A couple years ago, Great Lakes Energy started a truly remarkable endeavor to provide fiber-to-the-home for all GLE members. And Truestream was born. It was, and continues to be a huge project, which I’m sure cost many millions of dollars to roll out. And as a business-class fiber customer at my farm in Brutus, I can tell you, the efforts were successful. I’m assuming there were grants and other financial resources available to you in order to help fund the connection of so many folks who otherwise had no decent options for broadband Internet service. I wonder if the same might be true for electricity… A couple days ago I got this email:

And it got me thinking. Again. What if Great Lakes Energy worked with its members, and facilitated the installation of solar and/or wind generation at the individual homes? Many of us are in rural locations, and have the space to install systems that would not only offset carbon emissions, but with grid-tying, you could buy some of the electricity you provide from your own people.

I’m not saying this without understanding many complexities exist. While solar installations would certainly help with the issue presented in the email, solar power is timed very poorly for energy needs in the winter. This is exacerbated by our eventual need to move away from burning fossil fuels to heat our homes. If we all use electric heat pumps (which, we totally should, and almost certainly will eventually), the demand for electricity will increase at night when the sun is not helping produce any power at all.

Good Point, We Should Forget the Whole Thing…

But see that’s where Great Lakes Energy could really help blaze a trail. Who better to solve the issues of energy production, distribution, storage, and independence than an electrical CO/OP who has already proven their ability to think big, and actually follow through? There will always be people like me, who have an off-grid inverter setup, with a battery bank in order to make it through potential downtimes. And less nerdy versions of me who have a standby generator in case things go sideways. But those solutions are very self-focused, and if we want to be leaders, we need to work together as the CO/OP we are. There are so many things individuals like myself can’t do alone. But a huge part of those challenges are just another Tuesday for you. Things like:

  • Testing, approving, and possibly bulk purchasing hardware for grid tied inverters, solar panels, and mounting hardware that will work well, work safely, and provide people with the appropriate hardware for their needs and/or desires.
  • Working with local government entities to provide clear, simple guidelines, and when local governments are unwilling to cooperate, shine light on the issue so that progress doesn’t die in a pile of paperwork.
  • Work with installers, either hiring, contracting, or at the very least facilitating reputable professionals connecting with members.
  • Work with folks like myself, who are passionate about such things, to educate and even help people find the line between DIY and professional installations. What can we do on our own? What should we? What shouldn’t we?

Heh, Yeah, We Already Do That

Well… about that. Yes, you have multiple programs. Three that I’m aware of, kinda. Two of them seem like the same thing worded differently. But they’re not nearly the same level of active participation as the fiber Internet initiative. Let’s talk about them, purposefully from my viewpoint, because I suspect I’m more aware of these things than most folks, and much less aware than you.

Community Solar. This appears to be a partnership with a 3rd party organization, Spartan Solar. You sort of “adopt a panel”, which is installed and maintained in a solar farm by the Spartan Solar folks. You pay for a panel, and get credited by the energy it produces. I’m certain those credits are based on averages and percentages, and are reduced by maintenance cost and financial solvency, etc, etc. On paper, this is very likely the absolute best way to implement solar in the most efficient way possible.

The problem is, it’s just a line item on a piece of paper. And apart from an abstract good feeling, there aren’t any real benefits to the end user. If your power goes out, your adopted solar panel doesn’t know, doesn’t care, and will not keep your cellphone charged so you can watch netflix during the ice storm. I suspect the interest in Community Solar isn’t zero, but also isn’t earth shattering. It’s just moving numbers on a monthly bill. If we’re going to change the world, it needs to feel real.

When you produce power on your roof, and you can see graphs of output and usage, things change. If you want to see someone get radical about energy savings, show them the data. Not abstract kilowatt hours of monthly usage, but daily watts produced and stored vs watts used. The reason people don’t take climate change seriously is they don’t experience it first hand, at least not in a way that feels real and addressable. Am I suggesting we gamify our electrical usage? YES! Members connected reliably to the Internet with fiber only makes that more possible. If people realize it takes a dozen huge solar panels in full sunlight to run their air conditioning, it becomes a tangible reason to add insulation and get better windows.

Net-Metering and Buy-All/Sell-All. From what I can tell by reading the PDF files (which were clearly written by lawyers), this is the ability for a limited number of members to pay extra for a smart meter, and then sell back excess energy they produce. This is great, truly. That said, I have no idea if the 10MW limit specified in the document has been reached, or if the program is still available. I also don’t have any idea how much extra members need to pay for smart meters to facilitate the process. And most importantly, the “how-to” bit is not only confusing, but intimidating and pretty much unattainable without lots of professional investment.

Such things are complicated, and intimidating. I get it. When you add governmental regulations, both local and regional, it’s a non-starter for the vast majority of folks. Even myself. But like I mentioned above, these regulations and interoperability with governments are what you do every day. What if there were a group of local installers, electricians, buying cooperatives (ahem, GLE), and people who know the intricacies of rolling out real community-based initiatives? What if you could show graphs on your website of the percentage of power purchased from members vs from a 3rd party? What if a farmer with a south-facing clearing could install enough solar panels to make a bit of income each month while supplying all their own power/heating/cooling needs?

OK, Sure, But That’s Not a Plan.

Right. My hope is that we can make it easier for people to install things like solar. This will require several things:

  • Education. This is the part I can actually help accomplish. Remember when I was one of the first folks to get fiber Internet installed, and y’all took pictures, etc? (It’s ok if you don’t remember, you weren’t there personally) Let’s expand that idea. Let’s highlight various solar/wind/battery/inverter installations members have in place, or plan to put in place. I’m an educator who is comfortable making video. Let’s show people what’s possible!
  • Easy Access. Most people I know with solar installations got the hardware and labor as part of a contract, which makes their payment and saved electrical usage just about a wash. That requires capital, and I would bet there are governmental grants to help facilitate such things. I’m really nerdy, and really into this stuff. Yet I have no idea how to get something like a solar panel system installed. That’s partially on me, but it points to a bigger problem: No one knows what is possible, much less how to accomplish it.
  • Incentive. It needs to be sexy. There is so much more we need to do than just putting solar panels on houses. But getting people to be active participants in the energy conversation seems like a really good first step. This is mostly marketing, but wouldn’t it be great to have an actionable alternative to the rolling blackouts mentioned in the email above? “Use less power” is an admirable goal, but long term it’s not sustainable. The future will be powered by electricity, and being proactive about scaling our power needs before garages are filled with electric vehicles seems like an even more admirable goal!

I truly can’t think of any other entity more poised to lead the way toward a cleaner, more self-sufficient nation. Once we are more actively involved with producing electricity, and owning the process — things like transitioning away from propane furnaces become a much easier conversation. But the first step is to get people interested in having the conversation. And making everyone an active part of the process seems like a good way to start.

So drop me a line, Shaun. Let’s change the world, starting in one of the most unlikely places — our own backyards.

How THIS Keeps Happening

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It occurred to me today that I’m not really sure if the things I publish are the things I allow to get out of my think-meat, or if they’re things I can’t keep inside it. It probably doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but my brain (jerk that it is) thinks a lot. A LOT.

Now, I’ve always assumed that I objectively look at all the thinky thinks, and then determine, “ah yes, this kernel of insight is worthy of the masses.” But, yeah, no. I’m rarely, if ever, proud of the stuff I write. I might be proud of myself for sharing things, but never do I think, “This. This is what people need to hear.” Other people say things much better than I do, and they’re almost always more qualified to say things betterer than me. (Apart from a very, VERY narrow area of expertise. I’m pretty confident with my Kool-Aid making skillz…)

So what I write, like this for instance, is almost certainly not because I think it will make the world a better place. And I know I don’t do it for praise, because for my spheroid-jiggly-ponder-box, praise is a double-edged sword.

(Short explanation: “Shawn, that was incredible” makes me very much assume that whatever I just created is now the low bar for all future creations, and if it really WAS good, then I might as well not bother, because I’ll never create something that good again, and if I make something worse, I’ll let down everyone.)

I guess that means whatever I end up publishing is just think-juice I couldn’t quite keep inside. I suppose writing is my emotional outlet. But even that doesn’t explain why I click “Publish”, because there are plenty of drafts here on my bloggity-blog that will never see the light of day. So it’s more than just a need to write, because writing doesn’t need publishing to be an outlet for emotion. (See also: Diaries. But no, I don’t have a diary. OMG, is *this* my diary?) So why do I publish anything, ever?

Maybe narcissism? Maybe I seek the self-destructive praise of others? Maybe I hope that one person will read my escaped thoughts and realize they’re not alone in this weird, judgmental world? I honestly don’t know. But for some reason, I often feel compelled to share my thoughts, even when they’re weird, or personal, or scary, or all of the above. Apparently creating and sharing are very different endeavors. A lot of what I create isn’t shared — but a surprisingly large percentage of it is.

I was talking to a friend today about the “highlight reel” aspect of most social media. Many, or maybe most folks share the best and happiest parts of their day, or they make sure the part of their persona that lives “in frame” is squeaky clean and perfect. There’s the other side of that coin, when people post about how bad things are, looking for either help, or pity, or even just attention. But the mundane seldom makes it on Instagram. Or blog posts. Yet, here we are.

SO my fellow creators, I have two questions:
1) Why do you create?
2) How do you decide what to share?

Depression is Me

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I’m currently depressed. I think. I’ve been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, and so maybe any time I’m depressed, that’s the “reason” it happens. But also, depression is different for everyone. I’m confident of that, because depression is often different for ME, and I’m the same person as me. Still, I wonder if what I’m experiencing now is depression, or frustration, or post-covid-exhaustion fueled existential dread. Also, does it matter?

You’ve probably heard the story of the girl and the starfish. It’s been adapted from The Star Thrower, by Loren Eiseley. Here’s my quick verison:

A man was walking on the beach, and came across a little girl. She was picking up starfish from the shore, which were washed up during a storm and stranded when the tide went out. As she feverishly tossed starfish after starfish back into the ocean, the man asked her what she was doing.

“These starfish got stuck when the tide went out, and if I don’t get them back into the water, they’ll die,” she said.

“Yes, but there are thousands of starfish, and miles of beach. Even if you’re here all day, you won’t make a real difference.”

The girl slumped her shoulders, and looked forlorn. Then, a few moments later, she marched over to another starfish and tossed it into the surf. She turned to the man defiantly and said, “Well I made a difference to that one!”

I love the starfish story. It reminds me that regardless of how small my influence on the world might be, every little thing I do is important. Over the years, my level of “fame” has waxed and waned. This story helps me separate the “amount” of change I can make in the world from the “significance” of the change. Usually, that realization is enough to keep me going.

But depression is an almost sentient evil which short circuits logic and reason, and rewires our emotions in a way to make everything seem hopeless and insignificant. I know it’s not true, but when depression wields its ugly sword, intellectual knowledge doesn’t seem to matter. And since the depression is a part of me, dwelling in the deep and slimy parts of my brain, it knows all my weaknesses.

For example, I’m not really motivated by accumulating wealth. But in order to do the things that do fulfill me, I need to make money. My depression twists that into a self-image of me being a sell out, trying to make a buck instead of creating to make the world a better place.

“If you really wanted to help people, you wouldn’t try to make money while doing it. You’re just pretending to care about others so you can trick them into giving you what little money they have,” my depression tells me.

And?

And so, when I’m under the weight of depression, I don’t create. Because it feels icky. And those starfish who might benefit from my tiny efforts dry up in the sun. It’s terrible. And I know it. That’s the most horrible part — I KNOW the truth. I just can’t seem to believe it. Because depression lives in my brain. It’s part of me. And sometimes I don’t know how to turn it off.

I’m not writing this because I have a wonderful solution, or a simple series of steps to get past the depression. I’m writing because one of the few things I know to be true is that depression withers in the light. And so when I talk about it, and point out its lies, it gets a little bit weaker. Hopefully me exposing mine might scare yours a bit too. Because the other thing I know is that it’s easier to battle our demons when we’re not alone. And if you’re reading this, or hearing this — you’re not alone. And neither am I.

An Open Letter to the Green Brothers

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I recently read advice about writing letters to famous people. I think it was in the Steal Like an Artist Trilogy by Austin Kleon, which is a wonderful set of books. (I’ve listened to the audio version several times) This is not a letter to him, however. The point was that you can write letters to famous people, but it’s not fair to expect a reply, because their fame makes it very difficult to read all the letters they receive, much less reply. Fred Rogers was an exception to that rule, and sadly I never thought to write him in my youth. I regret that often, because since he did reply to all the letters he received, I could have a personal letter from Mister Rogers hanging on my wall right next to the poster of him which you can see in my online videos. But I digress.

This is a letter to John and Hank Green. Or Hank and John Green. I have no idea if there’s a rivalry about whose name goes first.

Dear Green Brothers,

I’m not actually a long time fan. That’s not a poor reflection on you, it just felt like something I should get out of the way, because a fan letter sort of assumes fandom. And while I appreciate you both, I still have no idea what most of the inside jokes you reference mean. (Things like “pizza-mas” and “nerdfight-stuff” mean little to me) But due to unfortunate circumstances, I’ve had the fortune to watch many, many, MANY of your vlogbrothers videos. So many, in fact, that I felt compelled to write this letter. Because while you had no idea that I watched hours and hours of you both, around day 4 it started feeling creepy. So this is me, waving my hand in the air and acknowledging the weirdness, and explaining that I’m currently on day 17 of a pernicious Covid infection that just won’t go away. And so I’ve watch a LOT of YouTube. And totally getting my money’s worth from that YouTube Premium subscription.

John, I first saw you when someone passed along a link to your video about Mister Rogers. Hank, I didn’t know John had a brother, and so the first time someone mentioned you in conversation (my daughter I believe, because her teacher played CrashCourse videos in class) I assured her that no, it was “John” not “Hank”. A quick googling ensued, and it turns out that you too are a real human, and thus was born my understanding that there are TWO brothers Green, each awesome in their own way. (See? I kinda warned you I wasn’t a very good fan. No pizza for me. If that’s a pizza-mas thing. Again, I don’t really know)

Still, even with my total lack of fan juice, and a mere inkling of the Green Brothers Mythos, I felt compelled to write you. Yes, yes, partially because I felt creepy devoting my Covid isolation binging your channel. But honestly, that was partially YouTube’s fault. As I blankly stared at my phone, the YouTube algorithm kept feeding me vlogbrother videos. (Very much not in any sort of order, which was odd, but also somehow still worked).

Wow, I really need to get over myself. The focus on me feeling creepy is starting to get creepy itself.

I’m writing for probably the same reason many people write to you. You’re both very relatable, and present yourselves as quite genuine. It’s possible you’re just really good actors, and the “regular old nerd” persona is just an act, but that seems unlikely. It’s also intimidatingly impressive how professionally successful you’ve both become. I’m pretty sure you’re both younger than me (I’ll turn 47 next month), and your accomplishments are not only admirable — but downright world-changing. And while you both seem humble about the multitude of things you do, the ripple effects of just being you are probably not always easy to see.

My tiny YouTube channel where I create Linux training to help people find a fulfilling career is just that, tiny. And my video style has always been simplistic. But it’s not like your vlogbrothers videos are exactly high production quality, and yet they continue to resonate with people. You give away the vast majority of your creations, and a huge percentage of the money you bring in, and yet manage to live indoors and regularly eat warm meals. And while we obviously don’t know each other, you’ve become the pair of humans I can regularly point to (mentally, I promise I’m not really stalking you) and say, “See? There’s a way to be the sort of person I want to be, while still being able to afford food!”

So thank you. Not for anything in particular that you’ve done, but just for doing the things “out loud” so people like me can see it work. While it’s unlikely my influence will spread quite as far as yours, I appreciate that you’ve blazed the trail a bit for kindness and generosity being a road to success. Because whatever the second half of my life looks like, this tweet remains true.

Hank – I’ll see you on Friday. And John, Tuesday. 🙂

Significance

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Last night I had the opportunity to speak for Linux Dominicana, which is the Linux Users Group in the Dominican Republic. I was approached several months ago by a man who has since become a good friend, asking if I would give a webinar-based talk. As most people reading this know, I’m currently trying to produce more and more content, and hopefully reach more and more people with it. So even though I had concerns over cultural errors I might make, I agreed to do the talk.

Spoiler: I’m very glad I did.

My whole personal “brand” thing about being kind, assuming the best in others, admitting when I’m wrong, etc., is not so much a “brand” as genuinely who I want to be as a human. And so in the months leading up to the talk, a bunch of the leaders joined me in a group chat so I could ask them an annoying amount of questions. I was not worried about embarrassing myself (clearly, based on most of my public interactions, I have no problem looking silly). But I was very concerned that I would make an offensive comment, or make an assumption out of ignorance that would hurt the feelings those attending. I gave my rough talk outline (it was about Linux as a vehicle to a career), and I asked awkward questions about job opportunities, difficulties with language barriers, salary inequalities, and how things “work” in the Dominican Republic.

This group of folks were so patient, and so kind, my gratitude doesn’t seem like enough payment for all the education they provided me. After a couple months of trying to learn Spanish, it was clear I wouldn’t be anywhere close to capable of conversation in their native language, and still they were nothing but patient with my litany of questions. Honestly, I was probably rather annoying. And even though I learned a lot about Dominican people, and even about Latin America in general — the upcoming talk was more distressing than pretty much any other talk I’ve given. (OK, the Ohio LinuxFest keynote address where I lost my entire presentation the night before was pretty stressful, but this was a different sort of stress.)

See… I wasn’t sure I’d be relatable. Don’t get me wrong, human stories are about humans, and in general we can empathize if we try. But would my life experiences translate (literally and figuratively) to another culture? I normally weave sarcasm and self deprecation into my talks, but sarcasm is often hard to pick up in your native language, so my standard go-to would probably fall flat. Plus, my talk wasn’t really about anything technical. It was a story about how I found my passion, and how those passions helped me in my own career. It was a very “soft” talk for a group of hardened IT professionals.

How did it go? I think the talk went fine. (That link will start the talk when it switches to English) It wasn’t earth-shattering. It was a story-based look at my career, with a few pointers for finding passion of your own. And an awkward section about the unfair importance of speaking English. Again, it wasn’t a bad talk. But it wasn’t amazing by any stretch of the definition.

But it was significant.

What I didn’t mention earlier is that this was the first time they’ve had one of their presentations in English. I was even one of the first (maybe the actual first) presenter without a tie to the Dominican Republic at all. Heck, I’m so white I’m almost clear! They did this on purpose, but I didn’t realize it was that out of the ordinary until I was chatting with the group of leaders the day before the talk. Whether or not my talk went well, they assured me it was ground-breaking. Assuming the attendees enjoyed the talk, it probably means they will have future speakers from other places with different views and different insights. And I got to be the first person to open that door. I’m still so very humbled.

I hope my mediocre talk, where I tried to speak more slowly than normal (I talk fast when I get excited) was enough to tear down a few cultural walls. The kindness of commenters, saying things in English so I could understand it, was really quite touching. This group of Dominicans will always have a special place in my heart. And once winter sets in, I might find out if their offers of helping me get the most out of a trip to the DR were genuine. And to be honest, I already know they were. Because along with being the first English-only speaker to their group, I also made a pretty great group of friends. And that. That is how we change the world.

Assuming the Best

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This bottle is SO Yaya…

I was scrolling through social media the other day, and ran across this photo. I laughed out loud, because a bottle of cleaning spray decorated like this is the most Yaya thing I could imagine. I mean, these things are usually “decorated” with a Sharpie marker declaring what sort of cleaner is inside the bottle. Or maybe a piece of masking tape declaring the owner’s name. But not this bottle. This looks like a centerpiece for the head table at a fancy dinner or something. It’s SO Yaya. But I should step back a bit.

Yaya (the name she chose to use in America), or Tipsithong Keawlaor, (whose last name I butchered while announcing at basketball games, and still get horribly wrong) is a young lady from Thailand who was an exchange student at the school where my wife teaches. She’s here in the US again, and based on her post, she’s working on the cleaning crew at a hotel or some such thing. She doesn’t normally post about cleaning supplies, and if you see her on social media, or honestly in real life, she appears to be the most vapid, selfie-crazed young woman you could imagine. She lives her life very much out loud, and between duck-lip poses and over-romantic hashtags — she really appears to be an extra superficial example of everything wrong with the Internet.

But she’s not.

Yaya does certainly enjoy attention. But she doesn’t seek attention at the expense of others. She might appear to be “full of herself”, but that too is an assumption which doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. Yaya is an incredibly kind-hearted young woman, who doesn’t shy away from helping others, even when there’s no glory in it for her. She enjoys the limelight, but I’ve literally seen her chopping lime leaves in the kitchen while helping cook food for a fundraiser. She will work hard to help others, even when it’s not required, even when she’s unseen — but will also happily draw all the attention in a room for no other reason than to be the center of attention. She’s truly an enigma.

OK, So What is She Hiding?

Does Yaya draw attention to herself in order to distract from insecurities she’s trying to hide? I have no idea. I know that I do that (and so Blue, in my comic, does as well).

But more importantly, Yaya doesn’t prop herself up by pushing others down. And I think it’s vital to make that distinction. She might very well struggle with inner demons, self doubt, insecurities, and a myriad of other emotional difficulties. Her over-the-top photos might be a way to hide from herself.

And maybe not.

My point is this: We often hear that comparing our lives to what we see our friends posting on social media is unhealthy, because people generally only post the good things. And that is very good advice. Our lives are more than a highlight reel, and sometimes those with incredible highs are also struggling with incredible lows. Unfortunately, we often deal with that reality in a very unhealthy way.

We Do The Thing Ourselves

Remember when I said that Yaya doesn’t prop herself up by pushing others down? It was literally 2 paragraphs ago. The thing is, when we try to accept that social media is often a highlight reel of the best a person experiences, we equate that to being shallow. We tell ourselves that of course they’re faking, and they’re really miserable, just vying for attention. Heck, we go so far as to pity them for needing the attention of others. We judge them for being happy, because we’re secretly jealous that we’re not.

So here’s my takeaway. You’re welcome to join me, or to just find me naive. I strive to assume the best in people. If someone shares a blessing in their life, and it doesn’t appear to be at the expense of someone else? I’m going to try my very best to be genuinely happy for them. If someone appears to be shallow, I’m going to assume they’re just not sharing the depth of who they are online. And if someone chooses to never share the difficulties they certainly face, I’m going to hope those difficulties pale in comparison to the joy they do share. Because honestly, someone else being happy does not make me less so. And if someone I care enough to follow on social media has good things happen to them? Knowing about it actually makes me pretty happy too.

Yaya, I hope you’re as happy as you portray on social media. Because you’re a wonderful human being, and you deserve all the joy life has to offer. And living life to the fullest is such a Yaya thing to do…

Truth Isn’t Always True

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Several years ago, I was asked to speak at a bible camp in southern Michigan. It wasn’t my first time speaking there, and I’d been a youth group leader at our local church for years, so my talk wasn’t vetted before I was allowed to speak to a couple hundred teenagers. And no, I didn’t actually do or say anything that was inappropriate – but my talk affected me far more than any of the teenagers who heard it. Because I inadvertently deceived them. All of them.

If you’ve been given the opportunity to speak to groups of people, you probably know that using stories is one of the best ways to engage an audience. Stories reveal our humanness, and bridge gaps in our experiences. Even if you haven’t experienced the same things I’ve experienced, when I tell a story, you get to join me in my joy and pain and ultimately in my life. For the brief moment when I tell you a story, you become me, you walk my path, and my experiences become a part of who you are too. Really, stories are amazing.

Fictional stories can do this too. They really can. Just like you can live my experiences if I tell you my stories, we can all live experiences told in fiction, and better understand the human condition in scenarios that never actually happened! Heck, Jesus himself did this with parables. There was no actual woman who lost a coin and then partied when she found it. It was fiction. The important part though, is that people understood Jesus was telling a fictionalized story. He didn’t say, “My Mom Mary lost a coin once, and oooh boy did we have to search for it…”

The Three-armed Sweater

So back to Bair Lake (the camp I where I was speaking). I honestly don’t remember the particular lesson I was teaching, but based on context, I’m guessing it was a lesson about grace and kindness. And as a young(ish) youth group leader, and a speaker known for being fun and animated, I decided to tell a story about a funny situation regarding a Christmas gift. I was a pretty crafty writer and storyteller at the time, so this story was almost certainly funny and engaging, while driving home whatever point I was tasked to teach. And heck, I was using a parable, just like Jesus! The talk was bound to be legendary in the annals of Bair Lake history. Sadly, I made a fatal mistake.

My “parable” was about a sweater I received one Christmas from my beloved aunt. My aunt (whose fictional name is lost to me now) was in mental decline, but spent a large portion of her time knitting sweaters for all her nieces and nephews, so she’d have Christmas gifts for all of them. As her mental acuity waned, the sizing and consistency of sweaters declined as well. One Christmas, the sweater I received from this beloved aunt had a third arm. I don’t remember the details, but I’m sure the fictional me was gracious, and appreciated the time and thoughtfulness knitted into the garment which I’d never be able to wear. Heck, there was probably even a situation where I had to wear the sweater, and somehow honor the aunt while also protecting her from ridicule. But it’s not the story I remember about that summer. It’s the effect it had on the teenagers.

See, it worked. I’d managed to teach my lesson, and pull their heartstrings, and even offer them a glimpse at the joy which only comes from serving others. They learned to be gracious, and kind, and in turn they were kind and gracious to me. They asked me about my aunt. They wondered if I had pictures of the sweater, not to mock, but so they could share in the story even more. One of the other leaders asked if they could share my story with their own youth group back home, because it resonated with the group of campers so well.

But it was all a lie, and I was the only one who knew it.

Fiction Can Teach Truth, But a Lie is a Lie

I didn’t set out to deceive anyone. Truly. But like I said, I was a fairly good storyteller, and the story of my aunt was compelling. It honestly never occurred to me that someone would think the story was a real situation from my life. I crafted it like a parable, or so I thought, and just like there was no actual prodigal son who slept with swine, there was no Aunt (Gertrude? I honestly don’t remember) who knitted me a three-armed sweater. But I told the story as if it were true. So people believed me.

It’s possible the story of my aunt is still being told by people at that bible camp who were particularly moved. And for them, it’s a story that works. For them it’s not a lie, it’s a story. It’s a story they once heard, and its basis in fact is no longer what matters. But for me, it made for a terrible week of camp. Because every time someone came to me and asked about my aunt, I had to tell them that I didn’t really have an aunt who made sweaters, it was just a story I made up to illustrate a point. And they were crestfallen. A story that gave them hope and clarity, helping them to understand grace and kindness instantly turned into them feeling duped and betrayed. All because I didn’t frame the story correctly.

Good Stories Can Be Fictional, but They Can’t Be Lies

That experience still haunts me. I’d like to think it made me a better person, but the cost was painful. Stories are what bind us together as humans, and with good intent, I broke whatever trust those campers had in me. Rather than learning the lesson I intended, those who found out it was made up learned I was a scam artist. I’d fooled them with my storytelling skills, and they felt dumb for believing me.

Could there have been a follow-up lesson on forgiveness? You bet. Heck, it probably would have been a pretty great talk about consequences from unintentional wrongdoing. The speaker could use my situation as a way to explain how forgiving someone benefits you as much as the person you’re forgiving. But it’s not a lesson I could teach, because for that group, I was the guy who lied about the sweater.

Stories are powerful. Fictional stories can be just as powerful as real stories. But even fictional stories have to be honest. Because while truth doesn’t have to be true, it does need to be honest.

Just Do the Next Thing

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I often think about Charlie Brill and Mitzi McCall. If you aren’t familiar with the married comedy duo, it’s not surprising. They were the act who followed the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show back in 1964. How could you possibly follow that?!? Thankfully, Justin Bieber didn’t recently make Linux training videos that I have to follow. But the thing is, this past week has been a surprisingly good week with regard to the things I’m creating being appreciated by other humans. (And maybe robots, I’m ok with that. Meep morp, y’all. How ’bout those electrons, am I right?)

The problem is, one success feels like setting the bar for the next thing. And a big success makes for a really high bar.

After this blog was shared by a super popular friend of mine on Twitter (the same friend who often shares my comic… he’s basically my ex-naval fairy godmother), and then one of my youtube videos was showcased in a Hackaday article by another friend, the traffic and popularity of my stuff has stepped up a bit. No, I’m not an influencer, or a YouTube celebrity, or parking a Tesla in my garage… (or, you know, having a garage) — but I crossed the monetization threshold on YouTube (the process of which apparently takes about a month, and then I could make DOZENS of cents a day!) I was sent a tech product to review without me asking or buying it, and there are actual conversations happening in the comment sections of my stuff.

OMG, I’m Too Good Looking, and My Wallet is Too Fat…

I know, I know. Complaining about a modicum of success is pretty douchey. I mean, isn’t being successful exactly what I’m intending to do with all this writing and newslettering and podcasting and videoing and cartooning and… everything? And Shawn, if you can’t handle a video getting 1000 views without feeling overwhelmed, you’d better hope you never actually make it big.

And yeah, I get all that. And I do hope the success continues. Heck, my lofty aspirations include the need and ability to actually hire people to join me in my endeavors. The problem I’m mulling over now is that I find it difficult to do the next thing when the last thing was deemed “worthy and good” by the masses. I think as humans (or robots, still love you guys) we tend to look at a very narrow slice of time. Heck, we practice “living in the present” as a way to stay healthy in mind and body. But the road to success is long. For some of us, very long. And while intellectually I understand a video that gets 10,000 views isn’t 100 times better than a video that gets 100 views, it sure feels that way. Let me get very specific. I’ll use my YouTube channel as the example, because this week has some prime examples of what I’m talking about.

The Hackaday Debacle of Awesomeness

One of the many things I do, is to occasionally co-host on FLOSS Weekly over at TWiT.tv. One of the OTHER occasional co-hosts is Jonathan Bennett. We don’t know each other in meat-space, but I consider him a friend, and if we were at a tech conference, we’d totally hang out and be nerdy. Anyway, he’s a writer at Hackaday.com — and last week he included my SSH Tunnels video in an article he wrote. It sent a flood of users to my tiny YouTube channel, and quickly elevated that video to like 7,000 views in the first week. Most of my videos get about 100 views in that timeframe. It also brought in lots of new eyeballs, who subscribed to my channel, which increased the views on my other videos, and there was a snowball effect that gave my tiny channel a boost.

Again, my channel is small. We’re not talking fame and fortune, we’re talking a cool growth acceleration. Like I mentioned above, it even bumped me over the monetization threshold, so that approval process started.

But HERE is the crux of the situation. My brain tells me that SSH Tunnelling video must have been the cream of my video crop. THAT VIDEO is what will breed more success. Whatever I did there is what I need to do every time, and improve on. Because for some reason, my brain says, “This is a video of a creator that has 3,000 subscribers. If you want to increase to 5,000 subscribers, you clearly need a video that’s about twice as good.”

Now I KNOW that’s not how it actually works. Heck, even my observation of older videos getting more views proves that it’s not a single video that raises the bar of adequacy. But as I often point out, brains are not logical. They’re emotional, fickle, jiggly think-meats which assume the worst and never appreciate the best. And so, I didn’t make another video that whole week. The week where I was getting more and more people interested in my channel and my content. I was crippled with fear that I’d release a video that wasn’t better than the SSH Tunnel video. And people would know that the apparent “star quality content” was a fluke.

Brains suck. (I actually accidentally typed “Brians suck”, and autocorrect was just going to let me insult innocent Brians everywhere. C’mon robots, I thought we were friends?!?)

The week went by, and the popularity boom waned. I still garnered quite a few new subscribers, which was incredible, but instead of riding that incoming wave, I floundered and released no new content. On Friday, I felt so terrible about not releasing anything, that I threw together a video on Linux Certifications, and posted it. I figured it would flop, but at least I was trying. (That video is honestly doing really well, which is weird, because it hasn’t been boosted by anything external. So who knows.)

So What Have You Learned, Shawn?

Honestly? I have no idea. Here’s the thing though — it’s pretty common with anyone who gets a bump of success, that they struggle with their next endeavor. One-hit wonders, authors who write a successful book, middle-aged men who get a compliment on how their hair looks… we all flounder with how to meet or exceed whatever we did that was deemed “good”.

The only advice I really have is that maybe we shouldn’t try to outdo ourselves. Just like it’s unhealthy to compare our success to other people, comparing ourselves to the most successful thing we’ve done is just silly. I’m just as good as that guy who made the SSH Tunnel video, because I’m that guy. I wasn’t trying to specifically make a stand-out creation, I was just doing what I love. Greatness isn’t a thing we do, it’s the way we do the things we do. Trying hard to be a more perfect self seems silly. We’re already exactly ourselves.

So just do the next thing. And in the words of Paul McCartney, Let it Be.

Doing One Thing Well, or Not

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When I started this “be a professional creator full time” adventure at the start of 2022, I got lots of advice. And as a quick recap for those who don’t know about my “Big Year” (sans birds), which is honestly most of you, because I didn’t really shout about it from the mountain tops, here’s the deal:

For the past decade plus, I’ve been a trainer for CBT Nuggets. Many of my videos are still in their catalog, and most people would have no idea I’m not working there anymore. I’m currently a full time sysadmin managing a bunch of Linux systems in various datacenters around the western US. But a couple things made me want to do more than just my DayJob.

  • The pandemic proved that jobs are not a sure thing. So many folks were laid off, or lost their jobs entirely, it was a scary wakeup call. A single income stream, even a really good stream, is scary if it might disappear.
  • I really really miss making training videos.
  • I really really miss writing for Linux Journal.
  • My kids are grown now, so I have a little more time on my hands.
  • My kids are grown now, and they’re currently trying to survive in an economy where surviving, much less thriving, is difficult. I want to set an example on how to diversify income.

Anyway, for those reasons and probably more, I decided to go “all in” for the entire 2022 calendar year. I still have a DayJob, so this means lots of after-work work. But again, it’s a good time in my life for that sort of thing. I’m not missing anyone’s basketball games, etc. As of right now, I’m about a third of the way through the year, and I’ve learned a few things.

There’s no Right Way, but Lots of Wrong Ways

My biggest focus thus far has been with YouTube. Yes, a 46 year old man becoming a “YouTuber” seems like a sad sort of midlife crisis, but I actually have a lot of experience making videos. And I’m a bit of a camera whore (I really like being on camera/mic). So YouTube actually makes a lot of sense. But oh my goodness are there nuances with the platform. For example:

You Must be Genuine

I think I do OK with this one. I’m not good at being fake. But… I’m a fairly weird dude, so maybe I should strive to be genuinely Ryan Reynolds… but Ryan Reynolds already does that, so y’all are stuck with me. Seriously though, I think people assume that unless they’re super charismatic, they’re too boring. That’s honestly just not the case. I’m a pretty boring guy. But when I’m passionate or excited about something, that’s when I light up. And everyone is like that about something. I tend to get excited about a LOT of things (more on that later), but the common adage to, “write what you know” works for YouTube as well. When you’re excited about something, that passion is contagious.

You Must be Unique

This is really a carryover from the previous point. If you’re genuine, you’re unique. Because no one else is like you. When I started taking YouTube seriously, it was tempting to emulate other successful people on the platform. There is some value to seeing what works and doesn’t work but it’s important to only emulate what they do, and not who they are. It’s hard to be genuine or unique if you’re trying to be just like someone else.

Those two “rules” are the most important, at least I think so. Look, I’m not a professional at YouTube, and this isn’t an article on how to be a YouTuber, but I think without following those two ideals, it’s impossible to be happy as a content creator. The next points are important to be a financially successful YouTuber though. And I like them much less. 🙂

You Must be Specific

This is the whole idea of “niching down” on a subject. The narrower you focus your content, the more people you draw in. This seems backward, because a broader array of topics would capture the interests of more people. You know, a bigger net catches more fish. But since there are an almost infinite number of YouTube channels, people tend to gravitate toward the ones where every video hits their sweet spot. If you branch out, the number of people your particular eclectic tastes match will dwindle quickly.

For example, a few of my passions are Linux, A/V equipment, Birdwatching, Renewable Energy, and Kool-Aid. Any one of those subjects might resonate with people. But if I made a YouTube channel with all those topics? Very few people would subscribe, because while they might like one or two of those subjects, they’d get annoyed by videos popping up in their feed on the less desirable topics. So, they look for a channel that has videos on their specific likes, and subscribe to multiple channels. So a person with my particular tastes would subscribe to a Linux channel, a birdwatching channel, a few A/V review channels, and an 80’s retro beverage channel.

That’s difficult for me. Because while I intellectually understand why having a specific niche is vital for YouTube success, it feels very limiting. And honestly, I get bored. Even if it’s one of my passions, if I don’t feed the other beasts in my head, they get restless. And that is sorta where the point of this whole post is going. Because the last “rule” of YouTube is…

You Must be Consistent

Oddly enough, posting videos every day isn’t 7 times better than posting once a week. Sure, you get marginally more views, but more importantly than number of videos you produce is the consistency with which you produce them. But honestly, even this is extremely flexible.

The consistency you MUST strive for is having consistently good content. Releasing regularly is also good, but not as important as having consistently good quality videos. And look, what “good quality” means is very much up for debate and evolution. For example, most people agree that having music in videos keeps people watching. But… I generally don’t, because it feels contrived for my style. I just talk into a camera, demo stuff, and try to teach complicated topics in a way that makes them easy to understand. A soundtrack seems to detract from that, so at least for now, I don’t add music.

Bonus Must: Audio

This isn’t YouTube specific, but just a tip for anyone making video. People will look past questionable video quality (to a point), but audio quality is king. If you’re going to spend money, spend it on a microphone first.

So What’s My Point?

I started the year making lots of videos in pretty short order. That was partly due to me really missing the training process. But also, I wanted to have a backlog of videos in place that new viewers could “binge” and get a taste for my style. So I worked hard to get a full “Linux Essentials” course created, making multiple videos a week, and publishing them in rapid succession. But that came at a cost.

At a mere 2 months in, I started to feel some burnout. This is not because I don’t enjoy teaching, or because videos aren’t interesting. It’s because some of those YouTube rules above are really oppressive. I understand my YouTube channel needs to be mostly Linux focused. But as a person, *I* can’t be all Linux focused all the time. So while the idea of doing one thing and doing it well is good advice, when it comes to creativity, it doesn’t always work. My inability to be disingenuous works against me here. If I’m genuinely miserable doing one thing, that one thing I’m doing will be a miserable version of the thing.

I Need More Irons, and More Fire

Toward the beginning of my “Big Year”, I tried to follow the standard advice of not having too many irons in the fire. If I do lots of things, it spreads my time and talent thin, so everything will be mediocre at best. And even reading that last sentence, it makes sense. But human meat sacks don’t always follow logical rules. I’m starting to discover that if I don’t put lots of irons in lots of fires, my one big fire will burn out. I know that is stretching the metaphor hard, but basically, I can’t focus all my energy on one thing or that thing suffers.

So as I enter the second trimester of the year, I’ve decided that I need to do more things. Even if I do those things a little less regularly, the things should end up being better in general. This rekindling of my blog is a prime example. I miss writing regularly, and the best way to scratch that itch is to write. Where better to write than in my own personal blog, where the only rules are ones I make up? I’m doing other things too, and will probably write about them here eventually, but off the top of my head:

  • Reading this blog as a “blogcast”, which is a word I made up. I think. It’s like a podcast, but is just me reading these words out loud.
  • Reviewing things on my review site.
  • Adding a video aspect to those reviews, probably on a new YouTube channel (not yet created).
  • Video blogging on a secondary YouTube channel (INSIDE The Brain of Shawn)
  • Speaking at events (virtually for now)
  • Drawing my comic
  • Learning Spanish
  • Constructing a micro datacenter at my farm
  • Trying to go outside more

My point is, rules are important, but they should always be examined and revised. Plus, the definition of success varies for the individual. I hope this “Big Year” of mine proves to be the start in a life long pursuit of passions and revenue streams. But if at the end of 2022 I discover that I really don’t like the whole “be a creator” thing? That’s valuable too. I’d rather be absolutely certain I don’t like something, than forever wonder what could have been.

Learn everything. Do what you love. And most importantly, be kind.

Jelly is Lonely

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And of course I mean jelly people are lonely. Jealous people, that is. Actual jelly people are never lonely because they’re sweet and sticky, and people either want to lick them, or are stuck to them. And that’s weird, so I’m gonna stop.

Sometimes it’s easy to avoid being jealous of someone. Particularly when they’re really good at something that you are super bad at. For example, I am not jealous of:

  • Olympic athletes
  • Basketball players (Olympic or otherwise)
  • Professional cake decorators
  • People with exotic taxidermy collections
  • Cave divers
  • Antique furniture collectors

Ok, it’s beginning to occur to me that it’s easy to avoid being jealous of someone who is good at something you don’t want to do, regardless of skill level. But I still argue it’s easier to resist jealousy when someone else is really good at something I’m bad at doing. Here are some more examples, these I’m maybe envious of, not not really jealous:

  • People who can draw
    • (Yes, I see the irony and/or hypocrisy because I literally draw a web comic, but it doesn’t mean I can actually draw — just that I’m unwilling to let my lack of skill stop me…)
  • Really good photographers
  • People who understand how semicolons work
  • Physically attractive folks
  • Singers who can melt your soul with their voices. (I’m looking at you, every member of my immediate family)

And then there’s jealousy of possessions, which isn’t really about the person who has the stuff, but more about your own lack of stuff. Maybe this is covetousness? I think that’s just another flavor of jealousy though, so it counts even if it’s a bit different. And we don’t really need a whole list, because it’s usually:

  • People with money
  • The things people with money have and do

And I really can’t help with that last list, because wanting more and more and more is a much deeper issue, and I think it’s rarely solved by actually attaining those things. Although, having more money is honestly usually nicer than being poor. So while it might not be the solution to all life’s problems, it’s nice to have central air and a heated garage than to not have those things. (Or so I assume, I have neither) But that middle list of things you wish you could do, but other people are better can get ugly pretty quick.

If you are good at something, or you are trying to do well at something, and someone else is MUCH better than you at it — it’s easy to get bitterly jealous. Especially when the other person is able to accomplish such things with minimal effort. And no, I’m not talking about people who work hard for years and then get accused of being overnight successes when they finally make it big. I mean those people who are like, “Oh wow, I’ve never even tried waterskiing before. Check out this sick flip!” Thankfully those people are rare, and nobody likes them. Nobody likes you Dave…

Take my friend Jim, for instance. Jim and I actually have a lot in common. We’re both old, we’re both grumpy, we’re both incredibly unattractive.

Ok, that went sideways. Lemme try again. Jim and I have quite a bit in common. We’re both writers. We both like taking photos of birds. We both want to support ourselves and our loved ones using our creative abilities.

And Jim posts photos like this. ALL THE FRIGGEN TIME. And he’s able to support himself using various creativity-based revenue streams. And he can grow a real moustache. It would be easy for me to be jealous of what he’s accomplished. Even though I know he’s worked for YEARS to build the skill required to do what he does.

Because jealousy isn’t rational. And it’s not even about the other person. Jealousy is frustration and disappointment in yourself and your situation. And to come back to my original point — jealousy is very lonely. And I use Jim as an example here, because I’m not actually jealous of his accomplishments. I’m honestly super happy for him. But there are people who turn me green on a regular basis.

I’m not going to specifically mention any of them here, because giving light to those demons only makes them stronger. And some folks might tell me, “oh you’re so much better than them, they suck” — or, “you shouldn’t compare yourself to other people”, and those responses aren’t really helpful even if they are true. Friggen Dave. Because jealousy isn’t rational. So what I do, and what I recommend everyone consider their own version of, is to steal from those people.

I should probably elaborate.

How to Steal Like a Winner

The nice thing about other people getting successful before you, is that you can learn from all the bad choices they made along the way. This actually works for both those people you’re jealous of, and those you’re not. For example, if he could do it over again, Jim would probably never befriend that annoying guy from Michigan. *ahem*ME*ahem* Seriously though, there are so many things I’ve learned from Jim’s success. The frustrations of social media platforms, the importance of personal online security (he gets death threats on the regular), how important it is to disregard hateful feedback, etc. Heck even his moustache — he taught me how to blow my nose when I grew my own sad face-caterpillar.

I have several friends who have published books. Some have self-published, some have used traditional publishing, and some have used multiple methods AND multiple publishers. I have very smart and successful friends. But even though I haven’t written a book yet — I already know the pros and cons of each method, and I know what publisher I absolutely wouldn’t use even if they wanted me. No, I won’t tell you the company. But you can still learn from my thievery — before you agree to publish with a company, talk to some authors who have already worked with them.

I’ve been hitting YouTube pretty hard recently, and the nature of YouTube means you can see the progression of successful creators as they build their channels. I know a few personally, but even if you don’t know the individual people, you can see what things work for them and what things don’t. This one has been invaluable for me. Because I’ve learned that I really hate the “narrow niche” required for YouTube success. That doesn’t mean I can’t be successful on YouTube, but it means I have to put energies elsewhere too. This blog, for instance. And my review blog. And various podcasts I contribute to. And secondary YouTube channels. And silly tweets. And web comics. All of those things help me to “niche down” on my main YouTube channel without feeling like I’m stifling myself. I wouldn’t have known any of that if I didn’t watch other successful creators and how they managed to be successful.

We can learn so much from those who are ahead of us. Even if they leapfrogged us getting there. From people I don’t like, I learn what not to do. And from those I strive to emulate, I learn from their successes and their failures. Heck, in many ways it’s better to let other people blaze the trail so it’s easier for us to get where they are going. But even that isn’t the healthiest way, in my opinion, to deal with jealousy.

Just. Enjoy. The. Beauty.

This isn’t as difficult as it sounds. If we can focus on appreciating how well other people do things, we can pretty quickly turn our jealousy into admiration. This even works if the people don’t “deserve it” in your opinion. Thank goodness they got lucky, right? Otherwise they’d be struggling forever. Those photos you wish you could take? Hey, you’re getting to look at them. Photos can be magical, and sure, being able to take them is incredible — but you still get to experience the magic first hand when you look at someone else’s work.

We already do this. Have you ever watched the Olympics? We are SO excited for those athletes who have devoted their lives to excellence. We will never be as good at their craft as they are, but that’s OK, we get to see them be great. That isn’t reserved for olympians. Are you jealous of Miley Cyrus’ voice? Maybe instead focus on how great it is to hear her sing. Do you wish you could dance like… um… I don’t really know any dancers. But if you have a dancing person in mind, isn’t it great to see them dance?

The point is, jealousy is a very strong emotion. But many times it’s easy to flip that strong negative emotion to admiration, which is a strong positive one. And that makes you a better person. One that someone might, you know, admire. 🙂