My Parents Refused to Make Me Successful (And Am I Gay?)

A quick reminder that there's still time for you to fill your life with kick-ass achievements.

CONFESSION: My parents never forced me to play the piano as a child.

I didn’t learn any instrument. There were no gymnastics classes. And I was never enrolled in theatre or singing lessons. My time was mine, with no extra-curricular activities on the menu.

I briefly put on a run of “Magic” shows for my family. But the living room wasn’t a natural auditorium, and everyone could see I’d slide the teddy bear under a table instead of making it vanish. Objectively, the performance was a real-time ad for the importance of wearing condoms.

Would things have been different if I’d been gifted a keyboard, maybe a Yamaha Piaggero NP12, instead of wrestling action figures for Christmas?

Maybe.

As an adult, my childhood experience caressing those hard-bodied action figures has left me with a flash of hot excitement whenever I catch professional wrestling on TV. I’m either a lifelong victim of consumerism or gay. Neither is ideal, as I have little disposable income and a wife.

Still, if I’d been kept in a soundproof room (necessary to hide my appalling piano skills), I could have put my time to use. Perhaps I’d have evolved from doofus to beginner, beginner to novice, novice to expert, and expert to prodigy.

Sadly, as a 35-year-old man, I can’t play a single song on the piano—not even “Chopsticks," which is famously easy to play.

I can’t even use chopsticks to eat a meal now that I reflect on it.

Would 10,000 hours of practice at the piano have improved my control and helped me wield two wooden sticks with greater dexterity at the local Sushi restaurant?

Again, maybe.

But I’ll never know.

Somewhere in the multiverse, a version of me was forced into music lessons. He grew up playing the piano. Out there, in the great expanse of existence, he’ll fly at 30,000 feet one day when an emergency strikes. With zero warning, the tiny screens on the back of everyone’s seat will crash. An electronic cardiac arrest, if you will.

A multiverse air hostess leaps onto the cabin speakers. She senses a restless group of passengers without movies, games or TV to calm their chaotic minds. Her voice booms out over the loudspeaker:

“This is an emergency. We need a few minutes of gentle musical entertainment while we fix the miniature screens on the back of your chairs. Is there a pianist on the plane?!”

Multiverse Alexander stands up, pulls a pocket-sized grand piano from his cabin baggage and plays a version of Beethoven’s ‘Symphony No.7’ so moving that an emergency landing is required to give cleaners a chance to clear a tsunami of tears… tears of joy.

But I’ll never have that moment because my parents loved me and didn’t force an instrument into my hands.

That’s the thing about life, though. So much of your adult existence comes down to choices made in childhood - often without your direct involvement. And while it might be frustrating to look back at what could have been, I like to look forward to what could be.

There’s a cool process known as prospection, which is your capacity to think about and evaluate possible futures.

At a superficial level, it’s the reason your dog goes bananas when you pick up the leash. He can anticipate a walk is imminent, and shit gets exciting. But you’re smarter than a dog (I think), so your mind can do more than go bananas at the thought of a walk.

Research suggests that thinking about the future can actually lead to a more fulfilling and prosperous life. On a purely practical level, thinking about the future has two distinct benefits:

• You’re likely to come up with different potential paths than you’d have considered if you went through life on autopilot.

• You’re more likely to view uncertainty as a blank slate-style opportunity rather than a scary threat to your existence.

Both outcomes help take some of the friction out of life.

Focusing on all the things you could do in the future instead of being frustrated by what’s happened in the past will help you develop a sense of agency to buffer against life's volatility.

That doesn’t mean fame and riches will fall into your lap (if you’re into that sort of thing). You’re still the one holding the wheel. But you can get excited about where you’re driving, not annoyed at the route so far.

I might not have grown up with any musical skills, and that’s OK. I’m in remission from leukemia. Life is good. And I’ve got my sights set on the future, even if it’s one where I can’t play or use Chopsticks.

Don’t get too hung up on what has happened.

It’s not too late to do cool shit. Your brain is literally programmed to help you look forward. Use prospecting to guide your current actions and move towards your future goals.

I’m excited to see where you end up.

With Love,

New World Porter

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