Link jamz #8
the power in sharing stupid stories
Welcome to Congrats, You Played Yourself, a newsletter about growing up and celebrating all the mistakes made along the way.
Tell me your stupid stories, it’s good for you! No, really. Read on below to find out how, and hit that subscribe button for more excuses on why sharing that story about the time you farted in the middle of your SAT will give you a great career.
Currently in LA, we’re on official lockdown #2. But sometime in September (the glory days! we could dine outside and see a few friends safely!) I was able to get out into the sweet, late summer sunshine with an old friend and a couple new friends for a meal. We had a socially-distanced picnic at Griffith Park, and while chatting, this fun little experiment of a newsletter came up.
I shared the idea behind it: sharing Stupid Stories of Mistakes Past to lessen the shame in doing said stupid things, growing up, yada yada. I told an especially idiotic story from a time when I was 18 and drunk and got into a random person’s car and the next morning, my dad called me to scold me after hearing about it from his nurse (small town problems). I was expecting a few shameful shakes of the head from my audience — it was, after all, not just idiotic but ridiculously dangerous — and a surprising, but not that surprising, thing happened:
They shared their stupid stories too. Without me even asking. It became an entire glorious night of sharing stupid, embarrassing, how-are-we-still-alive stories.
Turns out, a lot of us are pretty dumb, and have made (present tense: make?) some pretty stupid mistakes.
Years ago, Jenny Lawson, AKA @thebloggess, shared a short tale of embarrassment on her Twitter, and ended up getting flooded with fellow users replying with their own stories of shame. She told the New York Times in an email,
We’re all just weirdos falling over our own words and feet and invisible rocks and hoping that no one else notices.
So often we’re terrified for people to learn the worst of us: to hear the stories we’ve buried, or begged friends not to share, or paid off our siblings to keep them quiet. To hide those things that have happened to us that don’t fit in with *~ the brand ~* we’ve honed and developed over the years.
Only to open up and reveal our shortcomings, our stupid stories, our most shameful of experiences, and have them reciprocated.
Plus: it makes you better at your job? According to new research from the Kellogg School of Management at Northwestern University, embarrassment is the key to your next killer idea. Instead of sharing braggadocios to kick off a brainstorm, they shared embarrassing stories… and netted a larger number and wider range of ideas than those who bragged.
These cringe-worthy anecdotes seem to remove the barrier of self-censorship.
Y’all have been warned: now that it’s proven that it actually makes you better at your job to admit stupid things in team meetings, my co-workers better be prepared.
What I’m reading
One of my favorite writers, Helena Fitzgerald, is back on Substack after taking a bit of a hiatus, and I’ve been diving into her old archives (which are gold, and I highly recommend). One of my favorite pieces that I can’t stop reading had this incredible bit:
There’s a weird sort of swagger to full-throated loss and abject failure. If there was often a neediness, a pleading, to every first draft essay that focused on the upward progression from one achievement to the next, there’s something almost proud, something nearly stylish, about giving up and letting ourselves go, offering the stories we know will impress no one, digging back to ourselves out from under the mound of resume and job title and family dinner table anecdote. What is stupid and embarrassing, small and weak and boring about us is all that is good about us. Failure is the dance diagram, the noisy splatters of paint that become a canvas, the real record of ourselves, where we’ve been and how we got to where we are, the things we tell each other late at night, after everyone else has gone to sleep, after everyone else at the party has gone home.
And this one! As a child of the Xanga / LiveJournal / Blogspot / Tumblr communities, this one hit me hard. If what we’re doing here at CYPY is even remotely close to the old internet, it’s a win.
Love is the old internet, where no one is trying to get a job and everyone is telling the story of how they embarrassed themselves and what they found beautiful.
This Twitter thread.
Our Shared Unsharing, by Stella Bugbee. Dove into this longread and once I came up for air, was wondering if I should kick off 2021 by deleting my Instagram account.
What I’m watching
This. On repeat.
The Harry Potter franchise on YouTube TV. This is not an ad, because most of the time I hate YouTube TV but also more importantly because no one is paying me to say this, but I finally figured out how to record shows and have recorded all of the Harry Potters except Chamber of Secrets, which apparently is not being shown on any channel I can record.
Players gonna play
Michael Scott moment
Meet Quinton!
Hi new friends! My name is Quinton. All the people at Wags won’t stop saying how handsome I am, and I can’t say I disagree! I’m an 8 year old staffie mix weighing in around 65 pounds, but I attribute most of that to my big ole’ block head! I’m a gentle and friendly boy, and my constant state of wiggle is just one reason why I’m an excellent breed ambassador. I love meeting new people, going for short strolls in the sunshine and taking naps anywhere and everywhere. I will make the most wonderful addition to any loving home, as long as they don’t mind snoring!
Learn more & apply to adopt Quinton at wagsandwalks.org 🐶