Where do you see yourself in ten years?
What a question. I’m not a master of long-term planning. What I thought my life would be and the reality I see before my eyes couldn’t be further apart, which brings me to the challenge of defining success in the modern world. In my study of exceptional outliers, many are great at making plans and believing in a vision they can’t taste, touch, or smell yet. I often dream of driving a race car as I’m walking around. The adrenaline pumping through my veins, the sound of the engine, the smell of the tires, and opponents all around me reaching for that same goal.
Every racer dreams of stepping onto the podium’s top step, exhausted but exhilarated. The sweet sting of champagne on salty skin as you raise a trophy high above your head. I guess life is like a race that we are all part of, whether we like it or not. In my last post, I talked about the feeling of being stuck in the midfield. But what does it take to reach the podium or that top step?
Where do you see yourself in Ten Years? Ten Months? Ten Seconds?
Tour Guiding is an exciting job where you get to vacation destinations and make them even more enjoyable. A large portion of the job is logistics, information, and a collection of tiny details that make an experience smoother. Small things like knowing efficient pathways to take, how far distances are, and removing the stress of planning for travelers. Larger things like dinner arrangements, translation, or suggestions for future trips also play a part.
But the most important task is interpersonal skills. It’s not something I would’ve seen in myself ten years ago, let alone ten months ago. I’m by all means an introvert—the inner world of my thoughts and ruminations is as comfortable as the bedroom I occupy when I’m not working. Becoming a tour guide forced me to get comfortable with public speaking and human interaction. In caution of letting hubris take over, I’ve become quite adept at talking to people. My varied interests make it easier to hold conversations in different fields, though I’ve never truly mastered one.
With a short amount of time, you’re able to get to know people well. Two weeks of vacation sounds like a lot, but it flies by faster than an arrow. Various characters fly into your life for a brief moment, like our lifetimes are in the grand scheme of things. Still, I take the time to know each member of my party. After all, in every Role-Playing game, we figure out who we’re playing with.
When the Student is Ready The Master Appears
I meet people from all walks of life on my tours. On my latest tour, I ran into two retired teachers. Meeting them made me think of all the teachers and professors in my life I arrogantly ignored. As the ancient Asian proverb goes:
When the student is ready, the master appears.
I like to think life is an immersive, educational game that guides us the way Bunta Fujiwara teaches his son Takumi how to drive. The clever dad teaches his son in the way a Buddhist master teaches his pupils. The lesson isn’t always explicit—the lectures we learn best from are often things we must experience firsthand. Not spilling water from a paper cup and driving smoothly enough to not damage tofu are what make Takumi the legendary driver he becomes. Still, we have to be at least open to the lessons to learn anything.
Life, the Universe, and Metaphysics The Invisible Guiding Hand
Though I don’t claim to have found the meaning of life, my current understanding is that life itself is both school and teacher. My hope is that this isn’t all there is—that our souls will learn and evolve through a never-ending rally stage of incarnations. One of those incarnations will have me as a cyborg catgirl esports driver, I guess. sigh. . . dies of embarrassment and cringe.
Eh hem. . . whatever the purpose of this experience, I want to keep learning and growing.
Well Laid Plans
As a tour guide, you often get great itineraries to work with. But tours, like life, don’t always flow as smoothly as we want them to. You can make a flawless race strategy, but strategies don’t predict safety cars, blown engines, collisions, or unexpected tire degradation. At night, instead of sleeping, I contemplate the meaning of life and how to leave the midfield. Like mechanics working into the night to repair a car after a crash, the toll on the body and mind adds up.
Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face
Mike Tyson
Humble Pie
I lost the arrogance of my youth due to the constant battering life has thrown at me. Though my mother would say otherwise, my life isn’t going as well as she thinks. Continuing my race analogy, my team’s trying to put development upgrades on my car, but those upgrades either haven’t kept up or are doing more harm than good.
I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
Lose Yourself Eminem
One of my most awkward failures was when I played a song I slaved over during an open mic in college. I remember standing nervously on stage as the apathetic crowd gave no reaction. Buried deep in my psyche are similar moments across my life. In my last post, I covered the details of my shortcomings. Most involve painful realizations about the limits of my artistry, musicianship, gaming, and content creation. Not to mention the lack of disposable income or clear career path.
If life were a race, I must have crashed out in free practice.
The Unclear Value of Mistakes
We often hear that mistakes shape people, companies, drivers, and athletes. But I’ve thought a lot about the information overload I get in all areas of my life. There’s evidence that repeated failure can actually be damaging. Animals that play and never win eventually stop playing altogether. F1 drivers who lose confidence seem to struggle even more as the mistakes pile up.
Yet others grow from every mistake. Tough situations force us to adapt, evolve, and thrive. I consider myself a decent driver, but I’ve had many sim crashes and scuffs on my bumper that remind me of why I’ve evolved. Like any good driver, I push close to the limit and sometimes step too far over it.
Open to Advice
Free practice is for limit testing, after all, and I found out how far I could go on my own. After a week of getting to know my travel group (and probably too many beers), I had a conversation with the two teachers. They didn’t ask where I saw myself in ten years, but in three. After an alcohol-induced word vomit, I said something like this:
Word Vomit
I like what I’m doing. I love Japan, but I want to work in a job where I can be creative. Ideally, internationally. Japan is nice, but I miss my family and friends. The job I have is fine, but I’m ambitious. I have goals that need capital. I want to create a sim racing league, develop an app—there’s so much I want to do. I just want to take a vision I have and wring it out to completion.
Sometimes You Need to Hear it From Someone Else
The retired teacher patiently listened to my rant and said:
Whatever you choose to do, you’ll do excellent in. I’ve worked with a lot of young minds, and you have a brilliant one. It’s clear to me that with the breadth and depth of your knowledge, plus the way your mind works, you’ll do well. Some jobs haven’t even been invented yet, but you’ll find your place.
I was flattered and stunned. My aunt, mother, and friend Nate had been telling me this for a while. Sometimes, it’s hard to trust the people in your own circle. They say nice things because they know you, but this felt different.
Our Podiums are Self Defined
I laughed and said, “If I were smart, I’d be more successful.” But I also brought up how wealth is the biggest determinant of success, though there are exceptions. The teacher described someone they knew who I reminded them of—someone not traditionally successful but who did odd things for the pleasure of it. Like learning an instrument just for fun. It reminded me of my love for FL Studio. He was intelligent but odd. I guess I’m similar.
I talked about how my sister is more successful in the traditional sense. She always said I was smart but lazy. She plays into what society deems successful, but I’ve always found that defining success in the modern world requires more than just meeting societal expectations. She plays into what society deems successful, but I’ve always found that a bit silly. We value clothes, degrees, and money so much, but those people aren’t always happier. They seem more stressed.
The teacher thought for a moment, then said, “We all define what success means for ourselves. Defining success in the modern world is about aligning your own goals with what truly matters to you. How would you get onto the podium if you didn’t know where it was?”
A Ray of Hope
Like the high beams of a rally car piercing through the night, I found new hope for reaching the podium. Behind every great driver, like every great pilot, are hundreds of support staff. While we see the results of a pilot or driver, the lessons they learned and the teachers they had are unseen. The conversation gave me hope that I could continue toward my dream.
Cary Reid
The Dream and Vision Involve Cars and Driving
At some point in my life, I know my vision will involve motorsports. I can almost hear the engines, the squealing tires, the radio chatter. The mental chess of racecraft as I find an opening in my opponent’s defense. Then, the daydream fades, and I “snap back to reality.” Right now, a race car is a little out of reach. But there are two things I can work on today—Sim Racing and my fitness. While I can’t hit the real track, I can push myself on the virtual one and start getting reacquainted with my body’s physical limits.
There are so many dreams and visions I have, but for now, they’re just that—dreams. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s still a delusion that I’ll live an extraordinary life. But the cold, hard reality of life has chipped away at that potential. Like tires worn down after a long stint of racing, reality sets in. My psyche claws and gnaws at the limitations of being trapped in a finite body, and like every machine, I have my limits. I might’ve just stumbled into mine.
I might be just an underpowered economy machine . . . but I’ll deliver that tofu as fast as I can.
Much Love,
LaidbackMarco
