$UCCE$$

Success (n)-

[1] the accomplishment of an aim or purpose

[2] the attainment of popularity or profit

[3] a person or thing that achieves desired aims or attains prosperity

Where I'm at in life, I like this definition. However, I think the interpretation of success changes from person to person; it is subjective. Have you ever really thought about it? What is your definition of success? Is it by the books or is it more dynamic than that?

As a junior in high school, I fell in love with the business world and I did enough to teach myself how capitalism and the U.S. system worked. The epicenter of the scope of success, to me, became net worth. Many people, and especially those who don’t understand wealth, simply don’t recognize or comprehend the master key that you obtain and the many doors that you can unlock once you get some money.

I remember as an attendee of the Rose Banquet (a ceremony for the top ten graduates of each public high school in Springfield) I had publically submitted that I one day wanted to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company like Nike… And that’s where it all started- a genuine passion turned goal. It was absolutely ambitious, but it was also absolutely real.

However, not long after I started getting a grasp on American business, my desired aims started evolving; the goals stayed mostly the same, but the motives changed.

I still remain extremely career-focused, but I became romantic with business when I started studying entrepreneurship in college. The idea of creating something, growing it, managing it, and riding it into the sunset became a dream that rivals fatherhood to me. There was a unique personal stake in entrepreneurship that began to change the way I saw things through my farsighted outlook on life.

Building off of this, the older I get, the more success becomes interchangeable with purpose. You have to do what is important to you and you have to live for yourself. I closed my first entry saying that you can't be happy trying to fulfill other's dreams- this is why, in the opening paragraph of this entry, I prodded you to think about your personal purpose and what success you are chasing.

I know that many people, and worry that some of my friends, are still stuck on doing what they think other people would approve of most. I worry that some value potential job offers based on how much it would impress their peers. I worry that some seek awards to solidify in their minds that others think they are just great. I worry that they are not living for themselves. I worry that they are following an external definition of success.

I understand that recognition is a healthy need for many people, and I can’t deny that I enjoy recognition for my own work. I would be lying if I said my awards at MizzouRec, my recognition in the business school, recent successful interviews, appreciations for my writing, etc. don’t lift me up after busting my ass throughout college. However, I have always had an unwavering confidence in what I was doing and what I wanted to do in the future. If the recognition were to have failed, the chip on my shoulder that would have then filled the void would have motivated me just as much, if not more. My goals would have been undeterred.

Now, as opinionated as I am about my friends and as abrasive as my suggested mindsets and goals can be, they all know that I love them. I want the best for them and I want them to be happy. They know they are important to me.

Part of this assertiveness stems from the importance of the effects of whom you keep company with; your network is your biggest asset. Although I have never thought about my friends as assets, I have always been very aware of putting myself around other ambitious people. That's not to say I don't have a ton of friends that have different outlooks on life, but my closest ones have dreams of making it big and are doing things to make those dreams come true. In fact, the ones that don't want to do much for themselves end up naturally whittling their way out of my life, no matter how much I try to pull them along with me

It's a hard thing to deal with, cutting ties with people. My dad always had a timeless quote that resonated throughout the family business and makes more and more sense every time I do run into the situation: "you can't help people that won't help themselves." Combine this with a long-term, goal-oriented focus and it makes those tough, calloused decisions a little easier.

Speaking of my family, I was lucky enough to have them come visit me a few weekends ago, and for my brother to stay with me. What especially struck me was that I found myself telling him many of the same things I put in the blog. After all, the aim of the blog is to keep things real and offer the thoughts that cross through my consciousness the most.

Josh and I have always been competitive and I firmly believe sibling rivalry is a generally healthy part of growing up. However, I think it can get extremely dangerous when it becomes an overarching theme in your life. The exact same thing goes for friendships- it all leads back to my idea that you can't let yourself fall into the trap of living your life according to other people. Your success should be defined by you.

We had great conversation, Josh and I, as only brothers separated geographically can over beers. Of course we reminisced, but we also talked about potential jobs for each of us, my business travels, our goals, our dreams- the future. All in all, I think it was a good weekend to realize that although sibling rivalry always exists, the competition takes a drastic turn when you mature. We are now seemingly closer than we have ever been, even though we see each other just once every few months.

I made it a point to introduce him to my core group of friends, mainly because they make me cooler, but also so he could get a better idea of who I've become in the last four years of living across the state on my own and spending time throughout the country. For everyone that showed up at Harpo’s that Saturday night, I thank you for passing along a message to my brother that simply wouldn’t be the same if I were to do it.

"Your brother is a good person to have on your side."

"Your brother is gonna' do big things, man."

"Your brother is a pretty cool dude, Josh."

As awesome as it was for Josh to see this side of things, I think it probably hit me harder. Here are my friends that spend most of their time roasting me (as I do with them) opening up to a complete stranger and a major stakeholder in my life... and saying nothing but awesome things. I appreciate you.

I just hit four pages in Word and worry that if I write much more, I'll lose the direction of this entry. So I'll wrap it all up with a few ending remarks and save my other branching thoughts for another entry.

As the end of my undergrad career is closing in, my ever-evolving idea of success in business is seemingly becoming more stable. However, as I continue to grow (older and wiser maybe lol), I also continue to learn that although success is important to me, it isn’t the definition of my life’s purpose. There are other things to think about.

When I left for Mizzou, I was extremely head-strong and independently reassured. My family mattered, of course, but it wasn’t until recent years that I started to fully appreciate everything that they have offered me. My temperament has stayed the same, but my expression has not.

Focused on my goals, the thought of starting my own family was a distant humor. I walked through downtown Dallas last week with one of my buddies while we visited for a job interview and had a deep conversation about our life plans. Mine looked something like this:

18 years old- embark on my college journey; discover who I am.

22 years old- graduate from Mizzou with an undergraduate business degree and a few minors; find a good starting job.

27(ish) years old- obtain an MBA and exalt a career change or an otherwise significant move within the job I have.

30(ish) years old- start a family?

Is that too late? Will I have missed it? What is the time frame?

It’s crazy to me now, and even people who I’m just now meeting but becoming strangely close to are forcing me to ponder it all. As I’m finishing this entry 30,000 feet in the air on a plane to Columbus for another interview, and listening to throwback “soft love song” albums by the Weeknd, the irony of this hypothetical family-work balance I’m placing on myself only grows more obscure. I guess time will tell…

Lastly and simply, my friends play a vital part in my idea of purpose. I have always prided myself on serving as a loyal friend, especially a loyal best friend. My fellow CLPers, close coworkers, and a small assortment of random friends have collectively become people I plan to grow old with, and really people I can’t imagine life without- they define me.

In conclusion, I think it is important to search for your purpose in life. Is it solely success? Do you aim to become the best mother or father in the world? Would you die happy amongst a brotherhood to which you gave everything you possibly could, while it did the same for you? For me, it is an evasive concoction of all three, in which the recipe is always changing. How about you?

Uprooted

Guess what- it's 2AM again and I can't sleep (this is getting kinda fun).

As I mentioned in my last entry, I don't think your life really starts until you move away from home. I don't think you really become "you" until you're out on your own and "doing" things your way (in full Sinatra voice). So obviously, I think branching out plays a pretty big part in this.

Moving away was easy for me. In fact, it's something that I was excited for, and still get excited for every time I take it a step further. It is a natural part of who I am.

I was lucky to travel the entirety of the western half of the northern hemisphere before even graduating high school. Both my mom and my dad lived in the same houses and drove the same cars growing up, so we were always able to spend a decent percentage of our money on traveling- something my parents thought was important (*cough, cough: they were right). But the sad part is that they also blessed me with a wide world-view that is going to break their hearts when I leave.

It's a weird situation, and aside from my stepsister who has been back and forth from Kansas City and Des Moines after graduation, it is something completely unique to me amongst my family members. After all, I come from a historically Missourian family for as much as I know. It's just tough to appreciate everything about home after you've been away, and when you're hoping to be 1000 miles away next year.

And although I do want to get away, there is absolutely nothing here in the Midwest that I'm running away from. I like to think it's a good place to grow up, based on the positive moral lessons, meaningfully slow tempo, and the appreciation for other humans. I also like to think I was raised in a good family, inside of this good macro-environment. My families, aside from the dysfunction and the few cases of bad apples, generally consisted of good people.

Aside from this recognition, I've always wanted out. Coming to Mizzou was comfortable for me, likely because of the things my parents and teachers (both of which I think have been above average) passed on to me. I was excited and I was ready.

Now, I think it's important to highlight the way I was raised here. For my ego's sake, I really hope my parents aren't reading this entry: I sure as hell thought they were too strict, but they were right about many things. Truth be told, I think about them a lot more than I ever would admit to their face as our relationships were shaped by divorce, stubbornness, differing beliefs, and an unwavering confidence in what we both believed. Nonetheless, we did just fine.

However, from meeting people up here in Columbia who have migrated from primarily the Chicago, Kansas City, and St. Louis areas, it's easy to notice the difference in our upbringings. Some key components of mine? Here:

We didn't drink- not even a little bit.

We had early curfews and didn't really mingle without reason. My parents quizzed us on the "who, what, when, why, and how" of high school socializing.

We weren't allowed to "half-ass" anything and we always had to be doing something. This was the epitome of what "branching out" began as for me.

We weren't allowed to quit anything. My dad actually threatened that he was going to enroll me in ballet classes after I followed through with his requirement of a year of high school band, and found myself twiddling my thumbs after I decided to discontinue the next year (L-O-L).

We grew up amongst wrestling and jiu-jitsu, and my dad passed on the idea that fighting was natural and okay. BUT, you better not have started it and you had better have a good reason to finish it.

Aside from all that, my brother and I were both Eagle Scouts, we were a church-going family, and we were responsible. We may have been a little hard on some people, but all-in-all we were good. Although my parents still pick at us for some seemingly little things, I always remember to remind them that they raised three kids who will all be college graduates (after I graduate in May) and have a combined zero marks on our records- a feat that I find more and more unique amongst the people we grew up with every day. So, again, I felt I was mature enough to make it here at college.

Now, I remember there were all sorts of different books that aimed to help kids cope with the transition to college. Hell, some schools even offer seminars to teach kids how to do their laundry and dishes and things of that sort that we had been doing since middle school- what a joke. If you, as a parent, haven't passed that on to your kid (especially knowing that they are going to college) then you've really missed the point somewhere. I actually met someone over ski trip- a sophomore in college, mind you- that was just being taught by his/her roommates how to boil water... unbelievable.

 I honestly think that given the same meal plan I had my freshman year, living in the same dorm, and given a reasonable amount of money to live on (since I wouldn't have been able to work), I could have done the whole college think back in middle school. Aside from the level of challenge from the courses, it's really not as hard as it's made out to be. It requires responsibility and discipline, and that's the part that's hard to find.

Now I don't mean to say that I've done everything perfectly here at Mizzou. However, I do think I at least would get somewhere in between a B and an A- if someone were to grade me. As I get older, I find the value in things I was taught as a kid. Is this not every parent's frustrating goal? It's something that will last my lifetime and will certainly outlast theirs. My point is, my parents did a good job of preparing me to dive into this whole "branching out" thing that I feel I'm qualified to write about.

And who knows where I'll end up in May. I could stick around Columbia for a little while as I get my feet set. I could likely shoot over to Kansas City or St. Louis for a bit. I could hit that dream job in New York City or downtown Chicago or Dallas. Wherever I go, I know one thing: it's a temporary stop.

As I mentioned earlier, I was able to see more of the world on vacations by the time I was a senior in high school than most people get to see in their lifetimes. We hit all the places reasonable to a Midwesterner, but also spent time fishing the Alaskan Salmon Run, learning to surf in Waikiki, and simply seeing Miami, Los Angeles, New York City and every place in between. It was huge. Now, I'm traveling with the Cornell Leadership Program in the business school to Denver and Atlanta and Wall Street. And I'm hitting Nashville and Chicago and every other business hub with other scholarships and involvements.

But things are a little different. As a schedule full of meetings is added and the motive changes from "have fun" to "this could impact your entire career" (I still think that's super fun), traveling is becoming a little less elegant. Things are coming full circle and although simply going somewhere may not mean the same, I still try to remember how special it is to be heading somewhere at 30,000 feet in the air.

And among these simple reminders are my friends who either verbally remind me or remind me over social media, that this isn't something unique to me. Shout-out to Cara Hartwig and Chris Huetsch for making it to the investment banking industries of New York City. Shout-out to Kyle Holtzman and Tyler Becker, two of my dearest college friends, on landing in Minneapolis and Dallas respectively. Shout-out to Ash for jumping straight into her MBA. Shout-out to all my Altria folks and CLPers taking jobs across the country. You're doing it- you're branching out.

I had a fifth grade science teacher, although not my favorite, who had us do an experiment that could not be more relevant to this article. Mr. Daughtery had come up with the idea from somewhere that it would be good for us to study the effects of uprooting pea plants. It was pretty simple: you had four plants, and you were to note the outcomes and changes that were associated with the changing of different independent variables.

One of these variables was to actually remove the plant from its original soil entirely, and transplant it into another type of soil; as you can imagine the plants then began to vary dramatically. Of course, the experiment turned into a competition of who could grow the biggest plant by sneaking the most water into the soil on lunch and recess breaks, but there was an empirical lesson learned nonetheless. Your roots may change environment, but you will adapt and will still grow; for some plants, that is what allows them to grow the most. Of course, this change in environment means that you may grow differently and unexpectedly, but that is the point of life- no matter where you end up and what may surround you, make sure to always grow. 

Think.

As I explained in my first entry, the last thing I wanted to do when starting a blog was to put myself on a schedule and add even more stress to the headache and heartache that comes with being a senior in college. It doesn't make much sense to me to put so much pressure on primarily a hobby that I'm making no money on, especially when I have so many other seemingly important things to direct my focus towards. Business trips to Wall Street and the MLB Winter Meetings in Nashville, graduate school applications, job interviews- blog entries just don't measure up on the same long-term scale.

However, although I don't have a quota that I need to fill, I did plan to write a little bit more often than once a semester. At this pace, my blog is going to die a short-lived and underdeveloped trilogy... So to combat that, I'm sitting down (again restless at 2AM), punching the keys on my computer, and waiting until my brain decides that the endless and aimless mental wandering just isn't as valuable as a good night's sleep.

So let's jump into it. In following the same theme of my first entry, I am going to continue to write about the things I think about most, no matter how serious or how silly. And how much more fitting could it be to think about... thinking.

That's right: thinking.

I'm not talking about taking time for yourself and pondering about your life. I'm not talking about the stressful and inescapable thoughts of the future, your potential career and family, or that sort of thing. I'm talking about critical thinking. Taking an idea, rolling it around in your head, and weighing how much it makes sense to you, how closely you agree with it, and how right or wrong you think it is.

"I think, therefore I am." Ever heard that one? Probably not, because it comes from some irrelevant and unknown Frenchman named Descartes that proved over and over that he didn't know what he was talking about. Right? I wish everyone could relate to this quote as closely as I can.

Critically thinking has been a natural, yet important part of my life since a somewhat early age, and it would make the most sense to start when I was a real young'n. However, I'm a fairly firm believer that childhood is pretty meaningless in this context. Sounds dark, right? Let me explain.

When you think about life, there are a seemingly infinite number of outcomes, shaped by a seemingly more infinite amount of factors, decisions, accidents, and happenings of mere chance that shape these said outcomes. When you place it in the grand scheme of things, childhood is somewhat weightless; the decisions you make don't have a huge amount of influence on who you ultimately become. Mainly, this is because your parents are still making most of your decisions for you.

Now, I don't mean to say that there aren't things that can happen in childhood that shape the rest of your life. I also don't mean to say that environment is unaffecting. And I really don't mean to say that childhood isn't valuable. I'm just saying that the idea of childhood is pretty standard for the average American.

Learning develops through a standard K-12 system. Kids socialize through this same system, but also through sports, clubs, and other things of that sort. Creativity grows through art, music, simply reading and watching television- you get my point. There is a model.

Now, the interesting part is the unique spin that parents apply to that model. Think of it as an instructor assigning an open-ended project where the student is to paint a picture, say a sunset (typical, I know). Of course, if you are following me, the instructor is society, the student represents a parent, and the painting that is created is a child.

When the student is finished, they will have a completed painting of a sunset. Some could have used more orange. Some could have been rounder or better shaped. Some will be prettier than others based on the attention they were given, the time the student invested, and the overall painting (parenting) ability of the student. But, if the student did a good job, then his or her masterpiece will fit in nicely with the rest of the other paintings in the collection and the instructor will be pleased.

The paintings are then compared and graded, picked apart and criticized. Ultimately, they are put on the wall or in a museum, they are recycled, or they meet some other random end.  And so ends childhood...

In my brain, childhood isn't really a period. It doesn't end at 13, when the newly added "teen" at the end of your age means new self-entitled enlightenment. It doesn't end when someone heads to high school or gets their first car, and begins to accept the new responsibilities and freedoms that accompany these things. I don't think childhood even ends at 18 or 21 when we're told it's all over and it's time to grow up. After all, you probably know many adults that are mere children when it comes to their decision-making and thought processes.

In my brain, childhood is a mindset. You still agree with and believe in everything that your parents and teachers pass on to you. You don't question things. You don't think.

My time came when I entered middle school and found myself surrounded with kids who weren't all that similar to the ones I was accustomed to being around. After all, I went to an elementary school with roughly 200 kids (this is tiny compared to a lot of people I've met at Mizzou from the Chicago area, Texas, and the Northeast). My elementary school classmates and I were all in the same Cub Scout packs, we played on the same baseball, soccer, and basketball teams, and the closeness of our parents sometimes made us uneasy. Therefore, when I entered middle school, surrounded by new people, new upbringings, and teachers who preached this new idea that we were now "young adults", I embraced it.

Maybe it was premature, because my parents and I butted heads on things that I probably didn't understand and wouldn't understand until late high school or college. Nonetheless, it happened, and I'm glad it happened because I like to think it gave me a head start. By the time I was officially a "grown up", I was well equipped. I was willing and able to advise my friends about things going on in their lives, and confident enough in my thoughts to share them in a blog (actually quite terrifying, if you've ever considered it).

Now, as I close in on college graduation and find myself honing in on what I truly think of as an adult, thinking has become comforting. We live in a world where politicians, businesses, the media, and thought leaders tell us what to think. I'm a firm believer that humans are inherently good (thank you for the 11th grade literature archetype, Mrs. Mann), but it would be foolish to not acknowledge the self-serving biases of these said people.

It's up to you to decide what you think is right and wrong, and good and bad. There are some universal wrongs, like meth and cancer and terrorism and murder, but the majority of things are up to you to decide. Think about war. Think about the universe. Think about religion. Think about the social things ruffling the feathers of people all over the country and even outside of it.

If I could ever influence the entirety of the world to do one thing, it would be to think. We're all the same until we start to think critically for ourselves, and chances are no one sees things exactly the way you see them. Don't allow the system to treat you like a child. Think.

#unfiltered

I like to think that I am both reasonably similar and different from my peers, as any reflective Millennial would.  I understand very well how our societal system works, yet I like to do things my own way (my parents will likely confirm this in the comments section). This seemingly unconquerable cognitive conundrum has fascinated me for a while now, causing me to constantly ponder the value of expressing my thoughts through writing. After all, I was set on becoming a journalist before falling in love with the business world in high school- thanks, Mrs. Moore. Alas, I have reconnected with my inner writing spirit and am embarking on a quest to cross off another thing from my young and ever-growing bucket list: start a blog.

The plan is simple and is as follows: write by a strictly random schedule on strictly random topics. That's right. I'm not making any money off of this, so to put myself on an itinerary seems abusive, and to write about things I don't want to seems, well... dumb. Plus, I'm sure you're all uncontrollably interested in hearing me talk when I want to talk, right? No?

Anyways, like many other college-aged wonderers, I often plague myself with unanswerable questions as soon as my head hits the pillow at night. I write the good ones down sometimes and analyze them when my brain isn't trying desperately to turn itself off. A few notable ones are as follows:

What if I would have gone to Missouri State?

How does the accomplishment of making it on Wall Street weigh against the intrinsic value of becoming a young entrepreneur?

What if I were still rocking the Bieber look? (Nightmares usually follow this one.)

After glancing at this list and weighing which to begin with, I decided that it would be best to talk about a topic that possibly meaninglessly passed through my head at 2AM last night, yet accounted for hours of lost sleep: the over-edited Instagram picture.

I'm sure I'll have grandparents and other older family members read this that are overwhelmed with the process of changing a profile picture. So, for simplicity, think of Instagram as "Facebook, but only pictures". For this article's sake however, it is important to note the editing features of Instagram.

In a nutshell, Instagram allows you to take a normal, unspectacular picture, like this:

And make it look jaw-dropping and magnificent, like this:

Or an unassuming picture, like this:

And turn it into something glamorous, like this:

Although I do sometimes play around with the brightness in my pictures (I tend to appreciate photography too), I personally haven't filtered a picture in almost a year. The reason for this? I naively scrolled through my Instagram pictures one day- to show off a fish I had caught years ago to a fellow fisherman friend, of course- and noticed how ridiculously orange my skin was, and how unnaturally blue the ocean was. That's because that's not what the picture looked liked when it was taken- that's not what I saw that day.

To me, social media originated as a means to stay connected with your friends (R.I.P. myspace). It soon became a large-scale networking tool that people still under-appreciate, and eventually evolved into a seemingly infinite digital phenomenon that now includes up-to-the-minute news, creative content (like this), photos, videos, and a slew of other "things". I mean, companies spend billions of dollars a year on social media. Compare that to the early 2000's when it was still in its prepubescent stages...

The reason social media has grown so exponentially, you ask? Quite simply put, it is interesting. If people didn't like it, if they didn't use it, it would have no value. And the more people that use social media, the more valuable it becomes to society as a whole. Quite the interesting situation for a savvy social-media user that is looking to really stand out, huh?

Although, I understand the new roles social media plays and grow more fascinated with its new features and applications every day, a part of me misses one of the initial purposes of it: show others who you are. Anymore, people spend an exhausting and sickening amount of time and effort in making themselves look better online than they really are. If you have to make your picture appear more interesting than it really is, what does it say about the content?

I'm all for showing others the cool things that you're doing with your life, your accomplishments, and your ideas- the things that really matter to you most. I wouldn't be connected with you on social media if I didn't want to see those things. But, a part of me frowns when I scroll through my feed and find myself distracted by an obnoxiously edited picture that now resembles an atomic bomb exploding more than the original sunset that it began as. Don't get me started on the staged "candid" photo...

Now, if you're falling asleep and asking yourself if I'm done ranting yet and wondering how many readers I've offended with this little post, you'll be delighted to know that I'm almost finished. However, I want to reiterate the whole point of taking the time out of my day to write. That's correct, I'm not aiming to aggravate my friends- I actually have a meaningful message that I wanted to portray.

Roll these questions over in your head for a few minutes as you think about how you portray yourself online  and in reality:

How do you stand out, but not cross the line?

How do you express your uniqueness without becoming over-eccentric?

How do you measure being yourself in a world that teaches you to be the flattest piece in the puzzle?

The answer lies in truly being an interesting person, so that you no longer have to try to make others think you are interesting. After all, you can't be happy with yourself if you become something that you aren't. Be yourself. Be #unfiltered.