"If the fundamental act of this endeavor, generating a funny thought to share with others, wasn’t providing me any enjoyment or satisfaction at the most basic level, then the entire enterprise wasn’t worth it anymore."
This whole essay describes the emotions I felt after trying to "learn to code" after a year, and giving it up. A mix of regret that I didn't achieve what I set out to achieve, that lingering feeling of maybe I didn't have enough grit or try hard enough. But also relief. Relief that I can move on from a struggle that didn't bear much fruit.
What I was ultimately seeking was agency. Now that I've moved on I've come to realize that coding wouldn't have brought me much anyway.
Nice post, Peter. Thank you for sharing your struggles and your failures; you come across as quite sincere, and it is refreshing. Perhaps you will have more success as a writer.
Your post reminds me of the great pessimistic philosopher Emil Cioran, who "knew how to appreciate a worthwhile case of failure, how to observe its unfolding and savor its complexity. For failure is irreducibly unique: successful people always manage to look the same, but those who fail fail so differently. Each case of failure has a physiognomy and a beauty all of its own, and it takes a subtle connoisseur like Cioran to tell a seemingly banal but in fact great failure from a noisy yet mediocre one.” And: “[Cioran] can measure, for example, the depth of someone’s inner life by the way they approach failure: 'This is how we recognize the man who has tendencies toward an inner quest: he will set failure above any success.' How so? Because failure, Cioran thinks, is 'always essential, reveals us to ourselves, permits us to see ourselves as God sees us, whereas success distances us from what is most inward in ourselves and indeed in everything.' Show me how you deal with failure, and I will tell you more about yourself. Only 'in failure, in the greatness of a catastrophe, can you know someone.'" From: https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/philosopher-failure-emil-ciorans-heights-despair/
Thank you for reading. I'm certainly enjoying the writing life more. For one, my identity isn't fully wrapped up in it. The stakes are lower, and that ultimately makes it more fun and satisfying.
I have written about comedy for newspapers for 27 years, and I've seen some really funny people give it up. It always seems sudden when they say, but I have to remind myself this wasn't likely a snap decision. It's puzzling to see someone you think had so much promise and put in so many hours and days and years just one day say, enough. But I always have to remind myself, as you describe here, those hours and days and years were spent in pursuit of something that didn't come. And that the pursuit might not have been "making it," as you would assume the pursuit always is. It might have been something else, and now that satisfaction is coming from elsewhere.
If you want ro be successful, you need the front of your brain and all ofbyour background processes focused on it. I think it needs to drive you to the point where even when you don't think you're thinking about, somewhere in the murky depths, your brain is still problem solving. And that is to the detriment of so many other pursuits.
I always hope that when someone quits, they've done it because something else is filling that space now, and not just because the whole thing has become rotten. And it's always good to see someone who stopped drop in for a showcase set somewhere. If the set goes great, I might somewhat selfishly prod them, hey, are you back? I've missed your stuff. But if they say no, they're just revisiting, and they look satisfied with that - that's a heartwarming feeling.
"If the fundamental act of this endeavor, generating a funny thought to share with others, wasn’t providing me any enjoyment or satisfaction at the most basic level, then the entire enterprise wasn’t worth it anymore."
This whole essay describes the emotions I felt after trying to "learn to code" after a year, and giving it up. A mix of regret that I didn't achieve what I set out to achieve, that lingering feeling of maybe I didn't have enough grit or try hard enough. But also relief. Relief that I can move on from a struggle that didn't bear much fruit.
What I was ultimately seeking was agency. Now that I've moved on I've come to realize that coding wouldn't have brought me much anyway.
Thanks for reading, I'm glad that it resonated. Happy to hear you found some relief.
Nice post, Peter. Thank you for sharing your struggles and your failures; you come across as quite sincere, and it is refreshing. Perhaps you will have more success as a writer.
Your post reminds me of the great pessimistic philosopher Emil Cioran, who "knew how to appreciate a worthwhile case of failure, how to observe its unfolding and savor its complexity. For failure is irreducibly unique: successful people always manage to look the same, but those who fail fail so differently. Each case of failure has a physiognomy and a beauty all of its own, and it takes a subtle connoisseur like Cioran to tell a seemingly banal but in fact great failure from a noisy yet mediocre one.” And: “[Cioran] can measure, for example, the depth of someone’s inner life by the way they approach failure: 'This is how we recognize the man who has tendencies toward an inner quest: he will set failure above any success.' How so? Because failure, Cioran thinks, is 'always essential, reveals us to ourselves, permits us to see ourselves as God sees us, whereas success distances us from what is most inward in ourselves and indeed in everything.' Show me how you deal with failure, and I will tell you more about yourself. Only 'in failure, in the greatness of a catastrophe, can you know someone.'" From: https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/philosopher-failure-emil-ciorans-heights-despair/
Thank you for reading. I'm certainly enjoying the writing life more. For one, my identity isn't fully wrapped up in it. The stakes are lower, and that ultimately makes it more fun and satisfying.
This made me happy
Glad to hear that, thanks for reading!
I have written about comedy for newspapers for 27 years, and I've seen some really funny people give it up. It always seems sudden when they say, but I have to remind myself this wasn't likely a snap decision. It's puzzling to see someone you think had so much promise and put in so many hours and days and years just one day say, enough. But I always have to remind myself, as you describe here, those hours and days and years were spent in pursuit of something that didn't come. And that the pursuit might not have been "making it," as you would assume the pursuit always is. It might have been something else, and now that satisfaction is coming from elsewhere.
If you want ro be successful, you need the front of your brain and all ofbyour background processes focused on it. I think it needs to drive you to the point where even when you don't think you're thinking about, somewhere in the murky depths, your brain is still problem solving. And that is to the detriment of so many other pursuits.
I always hope that when someone quits, they've done it because something else is filling that space now, and not just because the whole thing has become rotten. And it's always good to see someone who stopped drop in for a showcase set somewhere. If the set goes great, I might somewhat selfishly prod them, hey, are you back? I've missed your stuff. But if they say no, they're just revisiting, and they look satisfied with that - that's a heartwarming feeling.
Thanks for reading. Yes, I’ve definitely filled that space with other stuff. This Substack is one of them
I don’t believe those years have been wasted - you write very beautifully and I’m sure that there is much that is positive ahead of you.
Thanks for the kind words. Yeah I don’t see it as wasted time either. There’s definitely a lot I picked up that pays dividends now in my normal life.