#the sheer about of information about their relationship from a writer perspective and actor perspective is awesome
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Fun fact: I found out David tennant has a podcast with a guest that cycles out each episode (it’s very good, you should go listen) and one of them has Neil in it!
You can yell at me if this is old news now but this little bit about “have a nice doomsday” and episode threes cold open is so… agh, I love it
(hearing about Neil’s writing process in general is also incredibly neat)
#good omens#david tennant#neil gaiman#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#the rest of the episode is also fantastic#the sheer about of information about their relationship from a writer perspective and actor perspective is awesome#I also adore the sandman talk lol#tags are showing me that everyone else flipped their shit at seeing all the guests too lmao#billie piper oliva colman catherine Tate and Michael are all also good ones#PS they’re all good#OH AND FUCKIN JUDI DENCH#hooligan uses words
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Inspiration and positivity are what the entire human race is in dire need of during these uncertain times. The present blog acquires additional importance for us because the film it deals with is possibly one of the most motivational motion pictures produced by the Hindi movie industry in the past few years. Penned by the inimitable Javed Akhtar, and directed by Farhan Akhtar, Lakshya showcased the progression of Karan Shergil from an aimless, albeit good-hearted soul drifting through life into a dutiful officer of the Indian Army. Karan's path of self-discovery was not merely an entertaining watch; it was also about the vital role that initiative and determination could play in our lives. Thrown in the midst of a world pandemic after a hundred years, most of us have lost these amazing qualities up to some degree at least, which is probably why pondering over this film in particular seems to be a productive job at the moment. Ironically, a film that several people have drawn inspiration from over the years (people had actually joined the Army after watching Lakshya) had been declared a 'box-office flop' during the time of its release. In that aspect, Lakshya resembles classics like Kaagaz ke Phool, Mera Naam Joker, Pakeezah, Jane Bhi Do Yaaron, and Andaaz Apna Apna, all of which failed to take the box-office by storm, but went on to obtain cult status among viewers later. Astounding? Definitely. Great films sometimes fail financially without rime or reason and unfortunately, the same fate befell Lakshya.
At its core, Lakshya was Karan's story and not a war film. The war and Indian Army provided a perfect setting for Karan to find his true calling. Nevertheless, intricacies of the Kargil war along with the destruction, desolation and pain that accompanied it, and which are also inevitably associated with all international armed conflicts in general, were far from being neglected in the story. A great writer is able to strike a balance between various dimensions of a plot without compromising on his actual intention, and who better than the legendary Javed Akhtar to achieve that? He was complimented by his talented son, the captain of this ship, who ably steered the film into a direction his father had envisaged while writing the script. Karan's metamorphosis from a lazy, casual college-going boy, perpetually confused about what he really wanted to do with life into a mature and responsible man was laced with humour and drama in equal measure, a strategy Farhan had previously employed while depicting Akash's journey in the epic 'Dil Chahta Hai'. Yet, the real genius lay in how different these two journeys actually were. Nobody could accuse Farhan of repeating what he had already done in his debut directorial venture.
Moments such as Karan listing his engagements of the day to Romi's (Preity Zinta) father upon being asked about his future plans in life and then literally hijacking that man's opinion on the importance of giving the best, no matter what the job was, to pacify his own father were examples of the witty humour we were talking about earlier. Of course, the actors took these scenes to a different level altogether. Hrithik’s delivery of ‘Main ye sochta hoon Dad’ after Karan had just rattled the ‘achcha ghaas kaatnewala’ lecture, and Boman Irani’s (Karan’s strict father) poker faced ‘Thik sochte ho’ in return have never failed to elicit roars of laughter from viewers till date. This wit pervaded most of the film’s first half as Karan continued his antics- the expression of his eternal confusion through the iconic ‘Main Aisa Kyun Hoon’ (apart from displaying Hrithik’s insane dancing skills through the choreography of the one and only Prabhu Deva, this sequence also aptly conveyed Karan’s inherent dilemmas), his decision of joining the Army only because another friend had promised he would come too, his disappointment upon being dumped by that friend, his ‘unconventional’ marriage proposal to Romi and his characteristic callousness as well as indolence even during his stint at the IMA were hilarious to say the least. Hrithik’s comic timing was pitch perfect in every scene, and perfectly suited for the nuanced, elegant genre of comedy that the script had aimed at.
Just when we thought Lakshya was a hoot, Farhan introduced the dramatic element in it; and he did so with such subtlety and ease that the ensuing sequence of events seemed to be the only natural course for the film to take. The scene where Karan fell into the pool by sheer unmindfulness during one of his drills and got punished by his commanding officer was somehow able to generate a strange mixture of sympathy as well as laughter amongst the audience and proved to be one of the watershed moments in Karan’s story. Hrithik’s masterful portrayal of humiliation as Karan knelt in front of his fellow cadets engendered such palpable discomfort within us the first time that re-watching it remains difficult even now.
The Karan that emerged on the other side of this event was somewhat different. Staying true to his fickle-minded nature, he jumped the wall of IMA and fled home. Nevertheless, regret could clearly be observed on his countenance as he sat with his parents, head bowed in shame, forced to accept defeat in front of his father- a man, who had always underestimated him. The grievance in his eyes upon over-hearing Mr. Shergill's unfavourable opinion of him hinted not only towards Karan's underlying strong ego, but also revealed his latent desire to prove himself. The hurt ego, along with his heart, was eventually completely shattered when the one person who had genuinely believed in him refused to be a part of his life anymore. Romi, played by Preity Zinta with her usual vivacity and boldness, broke up with Karan at the same place where she had once agreed to marry him because he had failed to live up to even her expectations. For Karan, someone who had probably harboured feelings of inferiority ever since childhood because of incessant comparisons with his brother, this became the ultimate betrayal. As viewers, it was our interpretation that he never really understood Romi’s point of view; he only attributed one primary meaning to her actions- her belief in his worthlessness. Looking at this entire sequence from a neutral perspective, one might say that both Karan and Romi deserved some empathy from each other. Karan’s lack of conviction in everything he did naturally upset Romi to a point where she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Can we really blame her? As far as Karan was concerned, he had to bear rejection from someone, who, he had hoped, would never judge him like his dad. Before this, he had been able to bear the brunt of his father's expectations because of the security that his relationship with Romi provided him. However, when she pushed him away, he truly hit bare ground, with no one to break the fall. The scene that followed the break-up will possibly remain one of the best pieces of emotional acting in Hrithik’s career forever. As easy as it might seem, crying your heart out on screen can actually be very difficult in practice. Hrithik obviously nailed the sobs, but more importantly, he conveyed his character’s rancour towards Romi most effectively through the unspoken hurt in his eyes, thereby suitably justifying the transition Karan would undergo next.
With no comfort zone left for him to turn to, Karan did what his parents, especially his father, and Romi had always wanted him to do. He grew up. He could have sulked like a petulant child and continued to live a directionless life like he had done previously. Instead, he chose to prove himself to Romi and made that his life’s goal. Ironically, Romi had disapproved when he insisted on joining the army earlier because she felt he was doing it to rebel against his father. But this was a different Karan. He was not rebelling anymore. He was trying to show Romi that he could be much more than what everyone thought about him. Sub-consciously, it was not just she who was the reason for this transformation; rather, it was both his dad and her.
Karan’s second stint at the IMA provided viewers with some of the finest moments in the film. His dedication towards learning and training, initial isolation and finally, amalgamation into the student community were fascinatingly depicted through the brilliant title song ‘Haan yahi rasta hai tera, tune ab jana hai, Haan yahi sapna hai tera, tune pehchana hai, tujhe ab ye dikhana hai......Roke tujhko aandhiyaan, ya zameen aur aasmaan, payega jo lakshya hai tera....Lakshya ko har haal mein paana hai’. Now, let us take a brief moment to acknowledge the terrific music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy which truly set the mood for the film. This song in particular struck a chord with us because of the simplicity and eloquence with which it expressed the inherent message of the story. The picturization was top-notch with several nuances throughout. Few moments stand out even now such as Karan passionately screaming ‘Dhawa’ during his drill, something he had been completely casual about earlier, Hrithik’s unflinching eye-contact with the CO who had previously punished him indicating that Karan was a changed man now, and Karan’s increasing camaraderie with his batch mates.
The song was followed by two important sequences, superb for the understated nature in which they expressed first Karan’s unspoken resentment towards his father, and then, his blatant grievance against Romi. In the first, Karan’s mother informed him that his dad had wanted to attend his graduation ceremony but could not ultimately, and in the second, Karan himself called Romi to inform her that he was finally a lieutenant of the Indian Army. At this point of time, talking about Hrithik’s acting probably seems redundant. So, we apologize for the redundancy (What? Did you think we would stop talking about it? 😱��). Karan’s casual brushing away of his mother’s statement about Mr. Shergill conveyed volumes about how he had ceased to expect anything from his father; it also revealed the disappointment he felt, courtesy of Hrithik’s amazingly layered performance. Similarly, his delivery of ‘Saare faisle tum nahin kar sakti Romi’ was spot-on. It was optimally hurtful, just like it was supposed to be.
As his job brought Karan to Kargil, Ladakh, and he met his commanding officer, Colonel Damle, played to usual perfection by the enigmatic Mr. Bachchan who managed to captivate the audience completely during the few brief moments he had in the film, as well as other colleagues, the lines between proving himself to the two important people of his life and finding his true ‘Lakshya’ began to blur. By his own confession, he had never thought about the significance of being an ‘Indian’ until his senior colleague Jalal Akbar (a brilliantly natural Sushant Singh) took him to the border (pretty prophetic that Hrithik himself went on to play a different Jalal Akbar later in his career, right?). In all honesty, a considerable section of the audience probably felt the same too. The stunning Trans-Himalayan locales shot so artistically definitely added to this feeling, although any border area is usually capable of engendering such thoughts. The landscape of Ladakh has a strange haunting quality about it, and that played a substantial role not only in making the film a visual treat but also metaphorically with respect to Karan’s journey.
As he truly began to love his job, Karan realized that he was finally ready to let go of his ego as far as Romi was concerned. Unfortunately, Romi, after a lot of thought, and pining for Karan, had decided to move on with life, much to Karan’s shock and dismay. The scene where he stood outside the venue of her engagement and watched her laughing with her fiance was one of a kind for the lack of melodrama that usually accompanies such sequences. Its speciality lay in the director’s nuanced handling of emotions and the actor’s terrific portrayal of subtle poignancy.
Run down and broken by the trials of his life, Karan returned home to his parents, only to receive news that his leave had been cancelled, and that he was urgently required to return to base. The moment where he bid goodbye to his parents was the first time when his father openly expressed love and concern for him, although not exactly in those words. The visible tension on Mr. Shergil’s face as he lost his cool and asked Karan to tell the complete truth was a testimony to his worry for his son who was about to go to a border area amidst serious disturbances. The part where Karan hugged his mother and left with just an uncomfortable glance towards his dad was another of those amazing subtle moments which characterized Farhan’s direction for this film. Hrithik’s discomfort and Boman Irani’s disappointment were both heart-rending to watch and as a viewer, one really wanted to reach out and give both of them hugs. A special thanks to Farhan and whoever was in charge of casting for signing Boman Irani in this role. Hrithik and his scenes were like mini acting classes that aspiring actors could take tips from.
Sometimes, it is difficult to get on with life, more so after losing one’s love forever like Karan had, but military training had instilled a sense of duty and discipline in him that was impossible to ignore. Of course, he had already begun to find a deeper meaning in his life through his job, especially after spending time with his superiors and colleagues. And, so he marched on. Had Romi seen his sense of responsibility even during a time when his personal life was in turmoil, she would have been proud. However, the realization that this was his true calling was probably yet to come to Karan. It did, in phases as he learnt about the war situation from Colonel Damle, and then embarked upon it.
If two people are destined to meet, even the universe conspires to bring them together. The same thing happened with Karan and Romi as they crossed paths unexpectedly in Kargil, of all places. The scene where they saw each other amidst a convoy of army vehicles is absolute poetry. Kudos to Preity for being so natural with her expressions always; she was brilliant in every scene, and especially here as Romi’s eyes changed from pure surprise on finding Karan there to a subtle melancholy and probably hope ( ?) at the thought of their future interactions. Hrithik, as usual, was spot-on with Karan’s ‘seeing a ghost’ expression as he moved past her, without getting an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity regarding her presence there.
Their next exchanges were laced with intense angst, but not of the typical Bollywood kind, rather much more controlled and nuanced. The part where Karan, after knowing about the demise of his good friend Abir (from the IMA) found his other pal Saket (Abir’s closest friend) venting out at Romi requires special mention because of the seamless manner in which it shifted from a discourse on the necessity and morality of war to a fantastic interaction between the lead couple, their first face-to-face conversation since the break up. It was formal, yet intimate; mundane, yet special; filled with hope for more on Romi’s part, and discomfort as well as suppressed anger on Karan’s. This scene was followed by his a little mean ‘pata nahin’ when Romi asked him if he had decided whether they should meet or not, and his angsty ‘congratulations’ for her engagement. Of course, the poor guy had no idea that she had broken it off after finding out that her fiance who was apparently a highly motivated successful individual was also a narrow-minded chauvinist. The irony of life! Once again, kudos to the genius of Farhan Akhtar. Without even mentioning it, he managed to point out the difference between Karan and Rajeev, and it was clearer than ever why Romi loved Karan. Remember ‘Maine aj tak tum mein koi choti baat nahin dekhi’ ? However, Romi obviously did not explain the truth to Karan. It was truly frustrating at times to see these two souls so much in love with each other, and yet unable to let go of their stubornness. Nonetheless, the frustration could be borne because of the brilliant intensity of their scenes and the wonderful chemistry these two shared. Truly, we do not talk enough about Hrithik and Preity’s amazing on screen bonding. We really should!
Karan eventually found out about Romi’s broken engagement from a letter his best friemd Ashu had sent him a while back. Hrithik’s expression of shock portrayed the extent to which the news had unsettled Karan. Incidentally, just when love had given him a second chance, Karan encountered death more closely than ever. After an initial victory during the first battle (the one in which he had saved the life of a senior officer, and killed opponents for the first time; also possibly the one where he began to realize that serving his country had started becoming his passion), Karan and his battalion were massively defeated in the second and several lives were lost, including his close colleague, Captain Akbar’s. The scene where Akbar succumbed to his injuries in front of his best friend, Dr. Sudhir (played by the late Abir Goswami, may he rest in peace too) who tried desperately to resuscitate him while motivating the gasping man with remarks such as ‘aam khane jana hai na’ can make people cry anytime without manipulating their emotions or forcefully tugging at their heartstrings. In fact, this was true for every battle sequence in Lakshya, which made it one of the best war movies Bollywood had ever made. Notably, the script treated every character with sufficient respect including even the ones who had screen times of just a few minutes. Everyone had a well-crafted story arc, however small it might be but integral to the movie. Most importantly, not for one second did we feel that Karan had taken up the screen space of others.
The best example for this was provided by the great late Om Puri ji, who played the role of Subedar Pritam Singh. Of course, if you have the privilege of casting an actor of his calibre, your can rest assured of the outcome. Acting is at its best when it does not feel like enactment, and not many actors are more natural than Om Puri ji! Appearing on screen for not more than four to five scenes, he delivered some of the most profound dialogues in the film. He explained to Karan how a soldier knew better than anyone about the destructiveness of war; yet he had no other option but to be a part of it. When Karan asked why wars took place, he pointed out that human greed had drawn boundaries upon the earth’s surface and if it were in their hands, men would partition the moon too. How true it rings, especially now. People are actually talking about ‘making life interplanetary’. If it ever happens, countries are going to fight about demarcating territories there.
Moving on! Excuse the length of this blog please! A film like Lakshya has so many subtle intricacies that it becomes impossible to leave out scenes. But don’t be impatient please. We have almost reached the end of our ‘Lakshya’. A few sequences still deserve mention. First, the iconic ‘Tum kehti thi na Romi meri zindagi mein koi lakshya nahin hai?’ The defeat accompanied by the loss of close friends and colleagues had augmented Karan’s determination to win but our hero had also finally discovered his passion, his true calling. In moments when such epiphanies occur, is there anything else left to do other than crying? Probably not. That was exactly what Karan did. As usual, Hrithik’s performance elevated the quality of this scene, like so many others. The part where Karan pledged to Colonel Damle that either he would execute the mission successfully, or he would not come back alive was again equally impactful because of both Hrithik and Mr. Bachchan. The way Colonel Damle looked at his officer after this momentous declaration conveyed the immense pride, gratitude and grief he felt at that moment. Truly, Mr. Bachchan needs no dialogues to express emotions. His eyes do it all. And the same is true for Hrithik too.
Now, its time for our favourite scene in the movie. You guys must be thinking that we agree on everything. Well, we do agree a lot, but disagreements occur too. However, there was no disagreement on this one. We think its a lot of other people’s favourite too. You are right! We are talking about the scene in which Karan called his dad. This was on the night before the final mission- a mission that was near suicidal. Upon seeing his colleague Vishal take off his engagement ring and put it in an envelope, Karan finally acknowledged what he was running away from; something that he had buried deep down in his sub-conscious- his conflicted emotions towards his father. The knowledge that he might no longer be alive for a resolution made Karan pick up the phone and dial his number. Here is an anecdote in this context. When Boman Irani started shooting for his part in this sequence, Hrithik’s lines were being read by an AD, and Mr. Irani could not get his shot right because he was not able to get the proper feel. Acting is a lot about reacting, and the non-impactful delivery by the AD hampered Mr. Irani’s shot. Finally, the person in charge of the sound came to his rescue and Hrithik’s dialogues were played in audio (Hrithik’s part had already been shot by then) to which Boman Irani reacted. And what an outcome. This is the true mark of a great actor; he not only excels himself but helps others soar too. And what an honour to have helped an ace actor like Boman Irani! The performances by both in this scene were superlative and manage to leave us with lumps in our throats even today.
In his first ever heart-to-heart with his dad, Karan confessed that he had always disappointed his father and told him that he was aware of it. In return, his dad who initially had thought Karan had called his mom, finally told him how proud he was of him. A salute and heartfelt gratitude to all the parents out there who send their children to serve in the security forces so that civilians can live in peace. The smile on his son’s face was proof that he could die happy. The tears in both their eyes expressed the craving they had towards each other; the dejection that Karan had always felt upon being ‘ignored’ by his father was replaced by the understanding that his father had always loved him; the pain on Mr. Shergill’s face portrayed his disappointment for waiting so long to convey his love to Karan- so long that there was a chance he might never see him again.
Having poured his heart out to his dad, Karan finally set out to achieve his Lakshya of recapturing Point 5179 and hoisting the Indian flag on it, but not before a much needed conversation with Romi. What an amazing bond these two shared. Karan did not need to tell her explicitly that he knew about her broken engagement; she did not have to tell him that she still loved him. They just knew. Her ‘to phir main zindagi bhar intezaar karungi’ was far more intense than a conventional ‘I love you’. The beauty of this scene lay in the complete lack of melodrama which one usually associates with Bollywood scenes of this kind. No over the top background score, no hysterics, not even a hug! And the fact that they wanted to hug, but could not (because Karan’s seniors were waiting) made this moment even more poignant. Hrithik and Preity were the epitomes of subtlety here. The frustration of not even being able to touch each other before Karan left for a life threatening assignment was so tangible that even the audience imbibed it. Seriously, why did not Hrithik and Preity work more? They were so attuned to even each other’s silences!
The final mission proved the truth of Romi’s words. ‘Jis din usne decide kar liya ki use kya karna hai, aap dekhna wo kahan se kahan pohochta hai’. Indeed, Karan reached the peak of success, literally and metaphorically. The mountain-climbing scene deserves a special mention here. It was so perfectly done that the only comparison that comes to mind is the famous rock-climbing sequence in ‘The Guns of Navarone’ by the iconic Gregory Peck. And in all fairness, Captain Mallory only climbed a cliff; Captain Shergill had to climb a peak of the Trans Himalayas! Jokes aside, both scenes shall forever remain goosebump- inducing. Karan, obviously hoisted the Indian flag, and just in time. Boy, did he make Colonel Damle proud or what?!
Thanks to our friend Mita for this wonderful VM .
There is a saying that everything works out in the end, and if it does not, it is not the end. It indeed did happen that way for Karan. He found his goal, and achieved it too. As he walked out of that elevator, and hugged his dad finally, we surely did feel contented. And who said Mr. Shergill did not know his son? Well, he might have taken time, but now he understood him better than most. When Karan’s mother asked if they could go home, he objected. Go home? What NO! Karan had to go and fulfill his other 'Lakhshya’, right?
How wonderfully thoughtful of Romi to stand at a distance from Karan’s parents, wanting to give them the private space that they needed! Actually, kudos to the director for his sensitivity; such subtlety is not something that we frequently see in Bollywood. So thank God for ‘Lakshya’. Just like Karan’s story ended on a positive note as the camera focussed on him and Romi, holding hands, finally embracing each other, ready to step in to a new chapter of their lives, we also end this blog with a bit of optimism.. Let us all hope and pray that ‘Hum Jeetenge Ye Baazi’ (modifying Javed Akhtar’s line a bit) on behalf of every Indian, and every person in the world dealing with this pandemic.
P.S. This blog is dedicated to all the front-line workers (doctors, nurses, other medical personnel, medical suppliers, delivery executives, grocery storekeepers, and all other emergency personnel) who put their lives in danger everyday so that we may survive. Please know that you are always in our prayers. Also, let us all hope that no one remains shy of masks and vaccines anymore. Those are the most effective ways of countering this virus. Stay safe everyone!
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BOOK | Unqualified by Anna Faris
Remind me to pay more attention.
When I was about to begin this book, I was blindsided by the subtitle that I have never seen and only found on the official title page once I opened it. This is not just Unqualified by Anna "Rhymes with Donna” Faris; this is Unqualified: Love and Relationship Advice from a Celebrity Who Just Wants to Help. Excuse me WHAT?! Turns out, I’ve been under a rock and this is the gist of both her podcast and her book. And here I thought I knew things. *facepalm*
While she may not necessarily be qualified in the love department, she is actually qualified to write a book. Or at least a little more qualified than some other celebrities. Our lovely Anna actually has a degree in English from the University of Washington, and that honestly gave me so much hope going into Unqualified. One thing I always struggle with is when celebrities are given book deals seeming to only sprout from their fame; most are horrible writers, but I suppose that’s what gives those books their charm, proving even in the slightest that yes, celebrities are just as flawed as we are, except with more money. ANYWHO, finding out that Anna knows her stuff was such a promising fact. ‘Cause let me tell you, if I based reading a book on it’s Foreword, I would have put this one down and walked far away. (That’s not entirely true, but you know what I mean).
Let’s start by talking about the Foreword by her then-husband Chris Pratt.
First and foremost, I want to say that, knowing that Anna and Chris announced/got divorced shortly after the publishing of this book in 2017 kind of puts a damper on the whole thing. Not because it may insinuate to some readers that she should not be giving advice on love and relationships, but rather because they were such a cute couple and, as many fans said once it was announced, makes it feel like love is dead if these two couldn’t make it. So the dedication, the foreword, and the plethora of times she discussed her relationship with Chris throughout the book were all so sad. And the way she talks about him and the anecdotes of what he’s done for her... it really is so difficult to believe that these two didn’t last.
Secondly, Chris Pratt should not be writing. This foreword was so painfully awkward that, like I said, if I were basing my continuation of a book on that first introduction, I would not have read it. And if you Google the topic, you will find numerous online articles with this same connotation; we all agree it is baaaad. Not only did he spend more time talking about himself and how he doesn’t know what a “foreword” is, he also made it sound like it was just an obligation with a word count. “I love her and respect her and told her I would” was his reasoning. Not once did I feel like he set the mood for the book from a more personal perspective, as a person who was her family for a decade, but rather he was giving us a short biography of Anna – things like how they both grew up in Washington, how they’re both actors that play idiots (his Andy Dwyer to her Cindy Campbell), how acting is her passion, various traits of her personality (how she is kind and what he calls an “information collector”). There was one line that made me believe that he was writing this foreword as a way to convince us to give Anna a book deal as if we were the publishers. He says “Anna deserves this book. I can promise you it will be a great and interesting read.” Yes, Chris, it was. But your foreword could have provided so much more than a grade-school style report on your ex-wife. I’m so glad Anna also wrote her own introduction. If you do end up reading this book, please just skip right to her intro.
In the first handful of chapters of Unqualified, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this book was worth reading. Especially during those times where she straight up admitted that she was giving advice based on speculation instead of actual experience. I’m not saying that Anna has to have experienced everything experience-able in order to talk to people about it, but saying that she didn’t actually have a relationship related to a certain topic just puts a damper on what she’s trying to help with. Like the list of men she says to not date; it includes musicians, doctors, athletes, chefs, therapists, and actors. (It also includes magicians, but I think most women steer clear of them anyways lol). With the exception of actors, none of those are based on her own personal experiences with anyone in those professions. She even says to us “I have zero experience.” So who should you date, as per Anna Faris? Woodworkers. Or a guy who makes boats, because they brood. *shakes head* Girl, I can’t even.
While I’m indifferent to the portions of Unqualified regarding her childhood through most of her young adult life (college shenanigans don’t really pique my interest), there is a passage that has stuck with me long after finishing this book. Anna’s childhood crush/ “boyfriend” (she was 8 years old here, call it what you will) had just dumped her. So she goes home, grabs an orange from the fridge, writes this horrible boy’s name on it in marker, and then proceeds to chuck said orange into the forest behind her family’s home as a means to get over him. Anna dubs this the “orange ceremony,” which she says she must have felt it symbolic, wherein casting fruit into the “abyss” would rid her of the emotions of the situation. She may have been a child at the time, but as an adult, I absolutely love this concept. This sort of symbology is very reminiscent of various practices in paganism. Obviously not her intent as I highly doubt she was a practicing pagan at eight-years-old, but the truth is, things like this can actually work. Some of us older individuals would just need a lot of oranges.
The reason it has taken me soooo much longer to write a review for Unqualified (I finished it months ago, yikes!), is because I honestly just don’t know how I feel about it. My notebook is filled with pull-quotes and excerpts that stirred me in some way, shape, or form – and many of them, very good! – but as an overall novel, I can’t decide if I should keep it for a future reread, or donate it. The only thing I feel that really sticks out in my mind about this book was how much I hated Chris Pratt’s introduction. And that is sad and depressing.
I did like that Unqualified was not just purely about love and relationships advice, and that it was intermixed with her personal memoir. I say that because there were plenty of times where her advice was not even advice at all. Like, for example, when she moved to Los Angeles with/for her then boyfriend. It’s reminiscent of an action many women take in tales of love. However, Anna also followed a career venture. This wasn’t solely about following her boyfriend out of sheer infatuation; if the relationship didn’t work out, she still had something there to fall back on, and that’s not something typical of an experience like this. Granted, yes, it’s kudos on her part for going for her own reasons, as well as for a guy, and it plays into her discussion of feminism at the beginning of the chapter. But in this of many parts of the book that was supposedly advice-driven, I made the note that maybe one sentence or one small paragraph at the end could have passed for guidance. At least, in most cases, she’s aware it’s not helpful.
Despite my typical qualms with books like Unqualified, at least for the time being I think it will remain on my shelves with my other keepers. Although her counsel is indeed questionable at times, it’s hard to deny how much I relate to Anna Faris and agreed with a good handful of the statements she makes in the book. And instead of doing all the talking herself, portions of Unqualified found basis from her podcast listeners through "Listener Responses,” as well as discussions and interviews with some people in her life (like Sim Sarna, her podcast partner in crime, and then husband Chris Pratt), and I like that aspect about it. It’s not just Anna retelling information from her perspective; it’s letting those people she has learned from have a voice as well.
I jotted a final note that I think sums up my thoughts on this book pretty well: Unqualified probably could have just remained a podcast. But for those of us not necessarily interested in listening to hours upon hours of content, the book is a good alternative, especially since Anna mentions in the beginning that the book is based on what she learned through two years of the podcast. A lot of Unqualified contained thoughts and experiences I personally could relate to and has happened to me, so, to quote myself “I suppose her book did what she wanted it to do.”
#book#books#read#reading#literature#anna faris#unqualified#unqualified by anna faris#review#reviews#quarantine#quarantine reading#quarantine reads#I finished this book in like... june *facepalm*
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Star Trek: Discovery - ‘Saints of Imperfection’ Review
Pike: "Starfleet is a promise. I give my life for you, you give your life for me. And nobody gets left behind."
By nature I love brevity: This one was something of a mess. Half of it is manageable but clunky, the other half is rushed, barely comprehensible, and still clunky.
Watching 'Saints of Imperfection' for the first time is an experience roughly equivalent to skimming the screenplay of a movie you've never seen, then watching that movie on 2x speed. You know about where it's coming from and where it's going, and you have a general sense of the flow of events and the plot, but you don't quite get it completely and everything moves past too quickly to make sense of it anyway. The plot did make a kind of sense, and all the explanations seemed to fit, but the moment the dialogue finished leaving the characters' mouths, it was on to the next scene or concept.
Watching 'Saints' for the second time helps a lot, actually, so if you haven't seen it again, I would encourage you to give it a second viewing. The second go around, because I knew everything that was coming, I was able to focus on what was happening and it was significantly more comprehensible. It also clarified some of the general complaints I had from the first viewing, though, so it's not all sunshine and roses.
The first half of this episode moves rather slowly at first, compared to the other half. If you add it all up, the audience is probably presented with just about the same amount of information in the first half as in the second, but the first is far more manageable and far more comprehensible. This is because the first half deals mostly with setting up the characters' dynamics and perspectives as a result of this new situation. The writers have brought Section 31 firmly into the story, putting the Disco crew and Leland's 31 agents on the same mission to find Spock. This, of course, comes with each character's response to the new status quo, namely Tyler working aboard the ship again, as well as everyone's various different perspectives on Section 31.
The second half of the episode throws an obscene number of high science fiction concepts at the audience, spends very little time on each one, and then moves on, hoping you'll keep up. There are precious few moments where it stops to ponder or dwell on something, and it makes the episode very difficult to follow. For example, I didn't have almost any idea why Pike, Leland, and Tyler were yelling at each other until I watched the episode for the second time. The other byproduct of the sheer volume of conceptual mumbo-jumbo we're subjected to is that the story suffers from it. It's very hard to tell a story well when every scene must include two or three new ideas to explain to the audience. The characters and emotions are stifled because of it, and that shows here.
I'm not going to comment much on the sheer ridiculousness of these sci-fi concepts, other than to say that I don't really think Discovery's commitment to ground the show's technobabble in real science is helping at all. Because there's no way to make a show about a giant spaceship that can teleport anywhere in the universe truly scientifically accurate, there's really no benefit as far as how much sense it would make to someone who actually knows how physics works. All it does is cause the writers to explain their concepts in actual scientific terms, which doesn't help the audience to understand it any more. In Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, David talks a little about his work on the Genesis Device. He explains that the reason Spock is alive is because the regenerative processes of the Genesis Effect rejuvenated his body, that because of this Spock is connected to the planet, and that the planet is breaking apart because he used dark matter in the Device to cut some corners. The writer has no interest whatsoever in explaining how the Genesis Effect rejuvenated Spock, it just did. We aren't told what type of connection links Spock with the planet, they're just linked. And we don't have any idea what dark matter is or why it's so unstable, we just know that it is unstable.
Compare this to the resurrection of Dr. Culber here in 'Saints.' The writers here wanted to communicate that Stamets brought Culber's life energy into the mycelial network when he was shifting in and out of dimensions. But rather than stop there, Stamets and Burnham talk about the laws of thermodynamics and how Dr. Culber's energy changed states. They also wanted May to send Culber back to our world using the cocoon that May used on Tilly. They explicitly said earlier that it was a kind of transporter, to move atoms from one place to another rather than destroying them. But instead of just putting Culber into the cocoon and moving him, May talks about how the atoms in the mycelial network aren't the same as the atoms in our world. The way they get around this is by converting the atoms in the cocoon, which are from our world, into a new body for Dr. Culber. The problem is that from a story perspective, there's absolutely no reason to say that May can't just transport him through the cocoon. The suspense aspect could be accomplished just by making May unsure if it will work. It was even intuitive enough that the group of people I watched this with were guessing that that would be the solution. But instead, there's another layer of problem and solution added that had no purpose other than a scientific one. It overcomplicated the scene, making it more difficult to understand.
The episode also suffers from trying to do far too much on a personal level. While it's good that there's a different dynamic between each character and each other character, some of them are too complicated for their own good, and some of them didn't belong in this episode. Take the out-of-left-field 'connection' between Tilly and May. Though on second viewing, I noticed everything Mary Wiseman and Bahia Watson did to try and make it work, there was ultimately not enough setup to justify the level of emotion their parting had. The two characters have ranged from casually acquainted to borderline antagonistic, but there's not been anything resembling friendship between Tilly and May up until this episode. Even at the start of this one, Tilly is understandably quite angry with May for all the manipulative methods she employed in her efforts to communicate. While the sentiment of 'How many beings have lived inside one another before' makes sense on an intellectual level, there wasn't anything close to a positive relationship between Tilly and May up until now, and their sudden devastation at the prospect of leaving each other isn't in any way earned.
Another element that would have worked far better given more screen time is Pike and Leland. Again, the actors sold that they were old friends who have come down on different sides of an ideological divide, but there was precious little here about said divide. As near as I can figure it, it seems that Pike doesn't approve of Section 31, while Leland views it as a necessary evil in order to accomplish Starfleet's mission. The main reason I assume that this is their argument, though, is that these are the two basic positions on Section 31 that Star Trek has used before, and the only real sense I got from the actual episode was that Pike doesn't like 31, and Leland does.
The other thing that bothered me about it was the 'solution' to their argument. One of my fellow viewers pointed this out, and I think it needs to be said. I am sick and tired of scenes in television and movies where two men are having an argument, and a woman comes in and says something like, 'If you two are finished comparing your manliness/masculinity, etc.' Usually, both men then look surprised and then dejected, and probably walk away with a new respect for the woman. But in reality, this belittles men and their arguments. Pike and Leland, if they're having the debate I assume they are, are arguing a legitimate topic, and both have legitimate points. It's not about manliness or masculinity at all, it's a complex moral issue that they disagree on. To chalk it up to a contest of manliness makes men look foolish, and I'm not a fan of making female characters strong by making the men look foolish by comparison. It's like if two women were having a debate about a moral issue they were coming up against, and a man walked up and scolded them for 'having a catfight.' Of course that's not what's going on, they're having a reasonable debate, and you've just ridiculed them for it to make yourself look clever. That's a method of making your female characters seem strong that needs to stop.
I hope we see an improvement in the Section 31 material, since it seems it's here to stay, both on Discovery and in the new Michelle Yeoh-led series in development. All they really need to do is deepen and clarify the Section 31 moral debate, and offer some legitimate exploration of the topic, and I'll be a happy Star Trek fan. Speaking of Yeoh, a lot of people felt her performance in this episode, especially the hissing, was too over-the-top. I don't mind over-the-top villains, but there's a place where they work and a place where they don't. In Discovery, there isn't a whole lot of subtlety in any of the material. That's why I was happy when Section 31's involvement was announced, because 31 on DS9 brought lots of subtlety and moral grey whenever it showed up. I'm disappointed that it's lost a lot of that, and I'm not convinced Yeoh's 'I'm evil and I love it' performance really makes for the right villain for this show right now.
Strange New Worlds:
I'm not sure if it counts, but we spent a lot of time in what I guess you could call the 'ground level' of the mycelial network this time around. The network has been depicted a lot of different ways, and this isn't really better or worse than the others. It's just different, though I am glad they didn't try for the sense of 'space has no meaning' that they did when Stamets was lost there. It would've just made it even more confusing to watch.
New Life and New Civilizations:
We learned the primary function of the JahSepp: to break down matter and repurpose it for other uses. That's cool, I guess.
Pensees:
-This show really needs to get a handle on its definition of faith. So far it's been used to refer to religion and belief in the supernatural in 'New Eden,' faith in your legacy in 'An Obol for Charon,' and now faith that your friends will be there for you. The theme of faith as it pertains to science requires the former definition, and the latter ones have started to muddy the waters. The different meanings of faith could be an interesting theme, but you can't have it that way and also try to explore faith vs. science.
-We're only two episodes out from the first confirmed appearance of Ethan Peck as Mr. Spock. Hopefully we'll finally end the perhaps drawn out storyline that some fans are calling 'the New Search for Spock.'
-The dialogue, especially the exposition, was back to being clunky and stilted in this one. Please don't slip back into your old habits, DIS. Please.
-I thought the sequence at the beginning of Burnham running through the corridors of the ship was quite effective.
-I'm not quite so sure about the opening and closing narration, though. I have no idea what the heck they were trying to say.
-I don't know if it was Kirsten Beyer's script or director David Barrett that was responsible for the pacing issues. It's one of the two, though. Perhaps a bit of both.
-We were informed here that Commander Nhan is the new chief of security for the Disco. That might have been useful to know last episode, when I wondered what she was supposed to be doing here.
-There was precious little to convince the audience that the intersection between our world and the mycelial network was dangerous. Even just having one of the bridge crew brush against it and find it painful to the touch would've sold it.
-I did like the pinky swear scene, even if it was a poor excuse for a connection between the characters.
-The place where Stamets connects with the spore drive finally got a name - the reaction cube. Or have they been calling it that all along, and I just haven't noticed?
-My group of viewers guessed a lot of the developments in this episode. We knew Georgiou was in the shuttle, we figured Dr. Culber was the 'monster,' I assumed Culber wouldn't be able to pass through the intersection wall into our world, and somebody else guessed that the cocoon would be the final solution.
-So... Section 31 uses cloaking devices and TNG-style communicators? Sure, why not?
-That was a neat visual when the rings of the Disco started to spin and half of it had been eaten by the spores.
-While it was nice to see Jayne Brook as Admiral Cornwell again, why exactly did she need to be there? Her 'new information' really wasn't all that revelatory.
Quotes:
Burnham: "I want to have faith. In its absence, only duty remains."
Georgiou: "You're the one who brought me to this insufferable place. You don't get to be surprised I'm here."
Tilly: "Fall in. That's soldier for 'get behind me.'"
Tilly: "Whatever you are, I am holding a Type 3 phaser rifle. Which is more powerful and generally larger than the Type 1 or the Type 2. I guess that's why they call it a 3."
Culber: "You're devoted to creation, to life. And there are a million reasons to love you, but that's mine."
Georgiou: "I've had your life in my hands dozens of times. You're going to have to start trusting me." Burnham: "Said the scorpion to the frog."
2 out of 6 bucketloads of concepts.
CoramDeo is a skilled metal-worker. Of course, he did not know that before.
#Star Trek#Star Trek Discovery#Michael Burnham#Saru#Sylvia Tilly#Paul Stamets#Hugh Culber#Ash Tyler#Philippa Georgiou#Christopher Pike#Disco#Star Trek Reviews#Doux Reviews#TV Reviews
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The Average Guy Who Spent 6,003 Hours Trying to Be a Professional Golfer
Dan McLaughlin reckons he’s sat down to compose the farewell post to the Dan Plan a hundred times. “I just don’t know what to write,” he says.
Sitting in his spartan home in Portland, Oregon, McLaughlin is self-effacing and soft-spoken. He recently launched an artisanal soft-drink venture. Discussing the Dan Plan is like reaching back into another life: Seven-plus years ago, aged 30 and unsure even of which hand to grip a golf club in, McLaughlin quit his job as a commercial photographer, took in lodgers to cover the mortgage, husbanded his savings for green fees, and set out to make the PGA Tour, home to the world’s elite golfers.
He created a catchily named blog to document his quest, and in short order the Dan Plan commanded magazines spreads and TV spots. Along the way, it drew an avid community of followers riveted by the spectacle of a regular Joe living out an everyman fantasy. No less captivated: a salon of leading figures from the science of learning and human performance.
What could you achieve if you committed to something completely, all-in, no excuses? How far could you go? For five years, McLaughlin cast everything else aside—career, money, even relationships—to put this to the test. But then his back gave out. He pushed himself to the limit and still came up short.
* * *
McLaughlin had never aspired to be a pro golfer. Growing up in Georgia, opportunities to play abounded, but he found the game stuffy, rule-bound. Closing on 30, though, he felt like he’d skated over life’s surface. He’d switched colleges and jobs. He liked being a commercial photographer enough, but his ultimate sentiment was meh. He wanted to commit to something, anything.
The conversation that planted the seed for the Dan Plan took place in June 2009, as McLaughlin hacked around a golf course in Omaha, Nebraska, with his brother. “We [talked] about the idea of quitting everything to pursue something single-mindedly and whole-heartedly,” McLaughlin recounts. “Did you need talent or was it all about hard work?”
Such questions were in the air. Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, the book that popularized the idea that mastery in a given field takes at least 10,000 hours of practice, had just come out, as had Geoff Colvin’s Talent is Overrated and Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code, both of which emphasized the role of dedicated practice (and discounted natural-born talent) in excellence.
McLaughlin hadn’t read these tomes. But friends pressed them on him, and the Dan Plan took shape. It would test how far practice could take you; and, taking a cue from Outliers, its time horizon would be 10,000 hours of practice. Golf fit neatly with this empirical goal. There were no barriers to entry—top golfers come in all shapes and sizes, no genetic assists for certain body types. And McLaughlin was a novice in it, a standing start against which he could measure his progress. To document this, he began the blog through which he’d soon become an evangelist for the sovereignty of hard work. “The idea of talent is [like] living in a society of kings and princes,” he says. “If you don’t limit yourself by this idea … it’s more like a democracy where anyone’s who’s willing to work [can] succeed.”
The blog also held his feet to the fire. “If you make [something] public, it’s harder to stop.”
* * *
Fishing for advice once the project was underway, McLaughlin emailed K. Anders Ericsson, the Florida State University psychologist whose study of violin and piano virtuosi Gladwell cited in Outliers. The two struck up a correspondence.
Ericsson was impressed. In particular, he was taken with McLaughlin’s commitment to systematic, “deliberate” practice—something he says Outliers glossed over by implying mastery is simply a matter of accumulating hours. “My feeling was, ‘wow, this is really exciting.’”
Enlisting a coach, McLaughlin collected data on his performance and sent it to Ericsson, who plotted his improvement. McLaughlin built his game from the hole out. For months, all he did was putt. Gradually, he moved farther from the flag, adding clubs. Eighteen months in, he played his first full round. At peak practice, he was putting in four hours on the practice green and driving range and playing 18 holes daily. He was stingy in tallying hours toward the 10,000-mark, only counting concentrated practice.
Barely over halfway through, he’d pared his handicap to an all-time low of 2.6—a mark achieved by fewer than 6 percent of golfers.
With just one person, the Dan Plan was strictly a case study; what McLaughlin found wouldn’t prove anything either way about talent or hard work. But for the academic observers like Ericsson, it offered the spectacle of an attempt to test an idea, founded on retrospective studies, in real-time. Moreover, McLaughlin would evaluate whether the dividends of long-term intensive practice were operative for adults as well as hot-housed kids.
As he progressed, McLaughlin found that many of our instincts turn out to be self-defeating. “People’s intuitions about practice are nowhere near optimal,” says Robert Bjork, a professor in cognitive psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles, whose research has demonstrated the effectiveness of introducing “deliberate difficulty” into practice—for instance, constant variety, “interleaving” between different skills and “spacing” study to force students to retrieve, and embed, new knowledge between sessions.
“You want to increase arousal so [the brain encodes] information at a deeper level,’” says Mark Guadagnoli, a professor of neuroscience and neurology at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, School of Medicine. “It’s [like] using a laser to engrave something versus a ballpoint pen.”
With advice from Bjork, Ericsson, Guadagnoli, and others, McLaughlin incorporated these principles. But only after he’d burned months drilling single skills like putting—intuitively the best way to practice, but actually the least effective. An article in Time from 2013 described McLaughlin as “a lab rat in human form.” But, of course, he was all human. Whereas his prospective peers on the pro circuit were, in his words, “on TV making millions or in college,” McLaughlin felt isolated. When his complimentary membership at an upscale club with a roster of serious players lapsed, he joined a cheaper club where it was hard to maintain focus among the weekend warriors. And when he met a partner with kids, his grand endeavor seemed more like selfish indulgence—especially with the Dan Plan bringing in, at most, $250 a month in donations, McLaughlin says.
According to the PGA, for every one of the 245 spots on the PGA Tour, there are 326,000 active golfers worldwide. Bjork got a look at McLaughlin’s game in 2014. “I could watch him and think it was remarkable for someone who hadn’t played before,” Bjork recounts. “Or, I could look at him … and say the whole idea of [making] the pro tour was unrealistic.”
* * *
Bjork believes that the Dan Plan was popular because it resonated with the regret-tinged curiosity many of people feel about the roads not taken in their lives. Even world-renowned cognitive scientists aren’t immune to such wistfulness, it turns out: Bjork ranked among Minnesota’s best junior golfers, and considered committing full-time to the sport after graduating from college. Fearing the Vietnam draft, he enrolled in grad school instead.
“It’s hard to regret,” Bjork says. But he still wonders how good he could have been. “Maybe everybody has a lurking [question],” he speculates. “What if I’d pursued being a musician, writer, or actor?”
It’s a minor rumination most people discard—just another road not taken. But not for McLaughlin. “It was unique for someone to stop their personal life to take on a challenge like this,” Bjork says.
McLaughlin stuck to his task for years, but 6,003 hours in, his back would no longer comply. “I couldn’t swing a club for six months,” he says. Today, he’s fine—as long as he doesn’t try to play golf every day. And the Dan Plan is a digital ruin, trailing off mid-stream amid the plaintive questions of diehard fans: “What’s the latest Dan?”
Ericsson, for one, wants closure. He dreams of a foundation that would fund multiple Dans to devote themselves to excellence in different domains, mapping their steps for others. “For people in middle age, that sense some have that they’ve lost their chance is sad. If Dan could document his path more [that would give others] a trajectory.” Ericsson compares it to climbing a mountain: “The first person gets stuck but, over time, people figure out how to get to the top.”
For his part, McLaughlin doesn’t consider the Dan Plan a failure. “If I say it was a failure then I guess I’m a failure,” he says. “I don’t feel like a failure.”
But the Dan Plan crystallizes the sheer number of variables, beyond deliberate practice, involved in attaining excellence in a field—not least, reliable access to effective instruction and the support system and motivation provided by a cohort of peers striving toward the same goal. McLaughlin struggled to find both of those. And what about psychological factors, even the role of negative emotion—gnawing insecurity, for example—as a driving force behind high achievement?
“It’s a domain that’s pretty complex and hard to understand from an academic perspective,” says Bjork. “Historically, there are great painters who just persisted even though during their lifetimes they were impoverished. It’s a mystery what kept them going.” For Tiger Woods, “there was no push to have him practice; it was a reward if he got his homework done,” Bjork says. “Wayne Gretsky’s parents would have to go get him for meals; he was out there [on the ice] on his own.”
I can’t help wondering if the Dan Plan wasn’t too cold-blooded. McLaughlin grew to love golf, he says, but passion was never the project’s animating principle. “I was very serious about it, but it never became an obsession. At the end of the day, I could always walk away and say, ‘what’s next?’”
Cramped by a shoestring budget and flawed on multiple levels, the Dan Plan raised more questions than it answered about the road to mastery. But that—appreciating how much more there is to understand—is progress, too.
from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/08/the-dan-plan/536592/?utm_source=feed
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The Average Guy Who Spent 6,003 Hours Trying to Be a Professional Golfer
Dan McLaughlin reckons he’s sat down to compose the farewell post to the Dan Plan a hundred times. “I just don’t know what to write,” he says.
Sitting in his spartan home in Portland, Oregon, McLaughlin is self-effacing and soft-spoken. He recently launched an artisanal soft-drink venture. Discussing the Dan Plan is like reaching back into another life: Seven-plus years ago, aged 30 and unsure even of which hand to grip a golf club in, McLaughlin quit his job as a commercial photographer, took in lodgers to cover the mortgage, husbanded his savings for green fees, and set out to make the PGA Tour, home to the world’s elite golfers.
He created a catchily named blog to document his quest, and in short order the Dan Plan commanded magazines spreads and TV spots. Along the way, it drew an avid community of followers riveted by the spectacle of a regular Joe living out an everyman fantasy. No less captivated: a salon of leading figures from the science of learning and human performance.
What could you achieve if you committed to something completely, all-in, no excuses? How far could you go? For five years, McLaughlin cast everything else aside—career, money, even relationships—to put this to the test. But then his back gave out. He pushed himself to the limit and still came up short.
* * *
McLaughlin had never aspired to be a pro golfer. Growing up in Georgia, opportunities to play abounded, but he found the game stuffy, rule-bound. Closing on 30, though, he felt like he’d skated over life’s surface. He’d switched colleges and jobs. He liked being a commercial photographer enough, but his ultimate sentiment was meh. He wanted to commit to something, anything.
The conversation that planted the seed for the Dan Plan took place in June 2009, as McLaughlin hacked around a golf course in Omaha, Nebraska, with his brother. “We [talked] about the idea of quitting everything to pursue something single-mindedly and whole-heartedly,” McLaughlin recounts. “Did you need talent or was it all about hard work?”
Such questions were in the air. Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, the book that popularized the idea that mastery in a given field takes at least 10,000 hours of practice, had just come out, as had Geoff Colvin’s Talent is Overrated and Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code, both of which emphasized the role of dedicated practice (and discounted natural-born talent) in excellence.
McLaughlin hadn’t read these tomes. But friends pressed them on him, and the Dan Plan took shape. It would test how far practice could take you; and, taking a cue from Outliers, its time horizon would be 10,000 hours of practice. Golf fit neatly with this empirical goal. There were no barriers to entry—top golfers come in all shapes and sizes, no genetic assists for certain body types. And McLaughlin was a novice in it, a standing start against which he could measure his progress. To document this, he began the blog through which he’d soon become an evangelist for the sovereignty of hard work. “The idea of talent is [like] living in a society of kings and princes,” he says. “If you don’t limit yourself by this idea … it’s more like a democracy where anyone’s who’s willing to work [can] succeed.”
The blog also held his feet to the fire. “If you make [something] public, it’s harder to stop.”
* * *
Fishing for advice once the project was underway, McLaughlin emailed K. Anders Ericsson, the Florida State University psychologist whose study of violin and piano virtuosi Gladwell cited in Outliers. The two struck up a correspondence.
Ericsson was impressed. In particular, he was taken with McLaughlin’s commitment to systematic, “deliberate” practice—something he says Outliers glossed over by implying mastery is simply a matter of accumulating hours. “My feeling was, ‘wow, this is really exciting.’”
Enlisting a coach, McLaughlin collected data on his performance and sent it to Ericsson, who plotted his improvement. McLaughlin built his game from the hole out. For months, all he did was putt. Gradually, he moved farther from the flag, adding clubs. Eighteen months in, he played his first full round. At peak practice, he was putting in four hours on the practice green and driving range and playing 18 holes daily. He was stingy in tallying hours toward the 10,000-mark, only counting concentrated practice.
Barely over halfway through, he’d pared his handicap to an all-time low of 2.6—a mark achieved by fewer than 6 percent of golfers.
With just one person, the Dan Plan was strictly a case study; what McLaughlin found wouldn’t prove anything either way about talent or hard work. But for the academic observers like Ericsson, it offered the spectacle of an attempt to test an idea, founded on retrospective studies, in real-time. Moreover, McLaughlin would evaluate whether the dividends of long-term intensive practice were operative for adults as well as hot-housed kids.
As he progressed, McLaughlin found that many of our instincts turn out to be self-defeating. “People’s intuitions about practice are nowhere near optimal,” says Robert Bjork, a professor in cognitive psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles, whose research has demonstrated the effectiveness of introducing “deliberate difficulty” into practice—for instance, constant variety, “interleaving” between different skills and “spacing” study to force students to retrieve, and embed, new knowledge between sessions.
“You want to increase arousal so [the brain encodes] information at a deeper level,’” says Mark Guadagnoli, a professor of neuroscience and neurology at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, School of Medicine. “It’s [like] using a laser to engrave something versus a ballpoint pen.”
With advice from Bjork, Ericsson, Guadagnoli, and others, McLaughlin incorporated these principles. But only after he’d burned months drilling single skills like putting—intuitively the best way to practice, but actually the least effective. An article in Time from 2013 described McLaughlin as “a lab rat in human form.” But, of course, he was all human. Whereas his prospective peers on the pro circuit were, in his words, “on TV making millions or in college,” McLaughlin felt isolated. When his complimentary membership at an upscale club with a roster of serious players lapsed, he joined a cheaper club where it was hard to maintain focus among the weekend warriors. And when he met a partner with kids, his grand endeavor seemed more like selfish indulgence—especially with the Dan Plan bringing in, at most, $250 a month in donations, McLaughlin says.
According to the PGA, for every one of the 245 spots on the PGA Tour, there are 326,000 active golfers worldwide. Bjork got a look at McLaughlin’s game in 2014. “I could watch him and think it was remarkable for someone who hadn’t played before,” Bjork recounts. “Or, I could look at him … and say the whole idea of [making] the pro tour was unrealistic.”
* * *
Bjork believes that the Dan Plan was popular because it resonated with the regret-tinged curiosity many of people feel about the roads not taken in their lives. Even world-renowned cognitive scientists aren’t immune to such wistfulness, it turns out: Bjork ranked among Minnesota’s best junior golfers, and considered committing full-time to the sport after graduating from college. Fearing the Vietnam draft, he enrolled in grad school instead.
“It’s hard to regret,” Bjork says. But he still wonders how good he could have been. “Maybe everybody has a lurking [question],” he speculates. “What if I’d pursued being a musician, writer, or actor?”
It’s a minor rumination most people discard—just another road not taken. But not for McLaughlin. “It was unique for someone to stop their personal life to take on a challenge like this,” Bjork says.
McLaughlin stuck to his task for years, but 6,003 hours in, his back would no longer comply. “I couldn’t swing a club for six months,” he says. Today, he’s fine—as long as he doesn’t try to play golf every day. And the Dan Plan is a digital ruin, trailing off mid-stream amid the plaintive questions of diehard fans: “What’s the latest Dan?”
Ericsson, for one, wants closure. He dreams of a foundation that would fund multiple Dans to devote themselves to excellence in different domains, mapping their steps for others. “For people in middle age, that sense some have that they’ve lost their chance is sad. If Dan could document his path more [that would give others] a trajectory.” Ericsson compares it to climbing a mountain: “The first person gets stuck but, over time, people figure out how to get to the top.”
For his part, McLaughlin doesn’t consider the Dan Plan a failure. “If I say it was a failure then I guess I’m a failure,” he says. “I don’t feel like a failure.”
But the Dan Plan crystallizes the sheer number of variables, beyond deliberate practice, involved in attaining excellence in a field—not least, reliable access to effective instruction and the support system and motivation provided by a cohort of peers striving toward the same goal. McLaughlin struggled to find both of those. And what about psychological factors, even the role of negative emotion—gnawing insecurity, for example—as a driving force behind high achievement?
“It’s a domain that’s pretty complex and hard to understand from an academic perspective,” says Bjork. “Historically, there are great painters who just persisted even though during their lifetimes they were impoverished. It’s a mystery what kept them going.” For Tiger Woods, “there was no push to have him practice; it was a reward if he got his homework done,” Bjork says. “Wayne Gretsky’s parents would have to go get him for meals; he was out there [on the ice] on his own.”
I can’t help wondering if the Dan Plan wasn’t too cold-blooded. McLaughlin grew to love golf, he says, but passion was never the project’s animating principle. “I was very serious about it, but it never became an obsession. At the end of the day, I could always walk away and say, ‘what’s next?’”
Cramped by a shoestring budget and flawed on multiple levels, the Dan Plan raised more questions than it answered about the road to mastery. But that—appreciating how much more there is to understand—is progress, too.
Article source here:The Atlantic
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