Ask HN: Thoughts on being “boring”

The first time I passed accreditation, I created a crypto token with a super high supply and sold one, this affected some applications to extrapolate the value of my holdings. A lawyer looked at it and made the attestation that I was accredited and I was able to participate in a couple offerings over the next few months. (Lawyer verified onchain as well)

The second time was after some professional and speculative successes, and I realized that people expected me to be accredited. That was nice. So I “self certified” that I was accredited and got to participate in the rounds. No need to bother with extremely low float assets, although still an option.

All subsequent times I continued to self certify regardless of the economic reality, periodically it’s above the threshold in pure liquid assets, otherwise it was a stretch of the imagination and pure financial engineering. There are also much higher monetary thresholds like “qualified investor”. Everything higher is also a self certification. Its a dumb caste system so I have dumb solutions for it, its super effective. I took it waaay too seriously when I was younger, I just didn’t know the consequences and expected to be treated as a joke by super serious people, turns out nobody cares and capital games are all casual entertainment to the wealthy, show up if you’re interested, bring your own capital.

You still have to actually have the cash to invest. If you can’t come up with $25k minimum it’s going to be weird.

I'm thinking this could be an issue you could solve only through therapy (whether actual therapy or self therapy - I had success by applying cognitive behavioural therapy concepts to myself).

Exercise causes you to release endorphins - it's normal for people to feel better or experience positive effects after exercise.

Maybe it's the type of exercise. I would start by walking / light yoga and try to add up to it until you hate it.

We're animals, we're meant to move and your health will suffer if you don't.

I went on a long walk this weekend asking myself this very question. There's so much pressure to try to excel at everything, to be extraordinary on every front. Since I live in a world that celebrates exceptionality, most of what I see online, in social media, etc. tells me I need to be fantastically rich and fit and creative and insightful and on and on and on.

I needed a couple hours to think about what actually matters to me. If I get to the end of my life, which things will make me feel like it was well-lived?

I settled on two. My two may not be the same as your two, but you probably don't actually have a lot more than two.

I want to be absolutely as extraordinary as I can be at those two things, and I'm content to be forgettably mediocre to passably decent at everything else, if it means succeeding at those two things.

Granted, this is a new perspective for me, but I'm hopeful that this will help me own my decisions and let go of the stress of expectations.

If letting go of the things that don't matter to you strikes other people as insufferably "boring," but you feel you're living your life well, seek out other friends and mentors who will encourage you toward the goals that really matter to you.

There's a new series of Love & Robots coming to Netflix tomorrow, and while I've found both previous series somewhat hit and miss, the episode Zima Blue has stayed with me (someone here later told me it was based on an Alastair Reynolds story which I'd never even thought to google). I won't spoil the episode, but it powerfully captures for me something that has happened a few times in my life (heck, even now if I'm brutally honest): you're excited by some new hobby or opportunity, it almost instantly brings you floods of energy and creativity, maybe even public acclaim, and so you throw yourself into it. You spend more time on it, make a career out of it. That career blossoms, maybe you're running a business inspired by your former hobby. Except now you're not really doing your hobby anymore. You're in meetings, helping make a decision that helps the people who help the people who help the people who do the hobby. Sometimes your knowledge and enthusiasm for the hobby help you make better decisions, but you still find yourself wondering, 'what happened?' How did this thing that brought you so much joy stop being fun?

Framing that initial creative energy as "entrepreneurial" is a trap, and I see parallels in talk of the "growth mindset". The professionalisation and exploitation of the things that bring you joy, the mantra to "do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life", it all sets you on a path. You have to understand that that path is invariably _away_ from the thing you love. Remember the first time you played with a computer? The first time you wrote code, however dumb? Did you dream of one day working on enterprise middleware or whatever back then? The world demands that we put away childish things, and let's be honest, society benefits from us being productive adults.

But if something brings you joy, I think you should guard it extremely jealously. Separate it from your livelihood. If you want to go change the world, if you feel you have a mission, then fine, pursue it. But it's very rare that you'll still be sprinting when you cross the finish line.