I bought the newest iPhone the other day because Apple has a great marketing department. Actually, it’s the first smartphone I’ve owned in 3 or 4 years, and I must admit it was jarring coming back, despite working with a tablet for those 3-4 years.

I keep getting notifications to configure this app, adjust that setting, or review these preferences. I’m fairly tech savvy and while it has been enjoyable, it still seems a bit much.

The final straw was when I was asked to scan my ear with the camera to improve spatial audio for my headphones. I’m not disputing the fact that this is cool tech, nor am I questioning how well it works. The question this notification forced me to wrestle with was “does this really improve the quality of my life?” I had to think of all of the people who are struggling to find a place to stay the night, who are choosing to go without a meal because they can’t afford it, while I’m standing in my office with my phone in the air like an idiot trying to scan my ear.

Would our collective time as humans not be better spent helping our fellow man with food, shelter, and connection? I don’t think any sane person with a soul left would say “no.” So then how do we build a culture that incentivizes us to apply our energy to these challenges, rather than optimizing our headphones based on the shape of our ears? I wish I had the answers, but I suspect I’ll be reminded of this question, because scanning our ears is probably only the tip of the iceberg.

The comedian Brian Regan does a bit on what he calls “the ‘me’ monster,” and I recommend taking a look. I’m sure it’s on YouTube. You may have met a “me monster” before. He or she comes out at social events and is only interested in making themselves the center of conversation and adoration. These type of people bother me, and I’m becoming one of them.

LinkedIn has turned into a disturbing competition of self promoting “me monsters.” What business networking would have previously been accomplished by a warm introduction by a colleague who values your work has turned into an online “look at me” shouting match as more and more work and relationships are forged digitally.

As a small business owner just starting out, it’s hard to ignore the benefit of posting your greatest hits online and inviting the world to celebrate. This brings more work and an ability to continue serving others with a product or service you believe in. The trick is to do not in a way that doesn’t make you sound like a “me monster.“ I don’t think I’ve cracked it yet, but half of the battle is identifying the problem, and there is a problem.

I’ve been talking with my friends lately about their in-laws, and it has led to some ridiculous stories and lively discussion. There is a reason that people like to jokes about their in-laws; disagreements and ill sentiment are prevalent. Why?

People are not perfect. I don’t think this is news to anyone, but there are imperfect people everywhere. Why don’t the people at your job or on the train bother you so much? At least three things are at play. First, as you grow up with your family, you become desensitized to just how ridiculous they are. Secondly, you get to know them well. There is no pretense of normalcy and no attempt to curb personalities or remain socially acceptable. Lastly, you love them because they are family, even though they are flawed.

With in-laws, you have none of these three elements. You are thrust into the middle of a family circle of people who are as imperfect as yourself, do not attempt to hide it, and with whom you have not come to love yet as you grow together. It’s no surprise then, that bad in-law jokes are the rule, and not the exception.

I borrowed a book from the local library titled: “Design since 1945.” In it I was struck by a page showcasing a chair made out of steel springs. Yes, the seating area was fashioned out of steel springs as you might find if you stripped the cushioning off of a bed. “How can that be comfortable?” you might ask. And the answer is it wasn’t. The chair didn’t gain popularity. However, what amazed me about the writeup next to the item was that the inventor kept working on his product, refining it and changing it. Eventually advances in plastic fabrication progressed to the place where the bouncy steel structure could be coated creating a comfortable, resilient seat and back for the chair.

A mentor of sorts once told me “I’ve never taken a risk that didn’t benefit me in some way.” I’ve thought about that a lot over the years, and it has made me realize that if you are humble and willing to learn, there is no useless project. Perhaps the project is a stepping stone, or a metal spring chair, or one of Thomas Edison’s 10,000 ways it will not work, but it offers something to you. How much you take from it is up to you.

Most of the time, allowing our peers to think on our behalf benefits us. We trust the herd and societal norms because it saves us time and energy. We don’t have to independently gather data and analyze.

What is fascinating is seeing people follow the herd without understanding why they need to a certain thing. There is an incoming hurricane in my area, and I can say from first hand experience that while many people understand why they need hurricane supplies, a large portion of them are overbuying supplies just because they’ve been told to, or observe that everyone else is stocking up. This remains true despite many purchasers not knowing how they will use the products they buy.

A similar occurrence happened with the COVID-19 toilet paper buyout. Ignoring the scalpers, many people felt it essential to buy enough toilet paper to last months or even years based on their current consumption rate. Why?

This is because there is a difference between the reality of being prepared, and the perception of being prepared. In the original Matrix movie, Cypher is satisfied with the perception of being rich, powerful, and successful, despite the reality. Likewise, many of us are satisfied with perception of preparation only, as defined by the herd. And sometimes, in the case of hurricanes and toilet paper, this translates to comical decision making.

If you want to avoid financial trouble, be a creator. Creators get paid for what they create. Consumers pay for what they consume. Countries are mindful about how much they create vs. how much they consume. We should be too.

So the equation is quite simple: A creation mindset + time = financial resources.

If we want sufficient financial resources, we need to cultivate a creator’s mindset, so we continually create.

One of my mentors introduced me to the concept of “Design DNA.” What is Design DNA? Design DNA is the sum of your experiences and observations that form the building blocks of your design style and process. For example, here is part of my design DNA:

Spanish Colonial and Mediterranean Design: I spent several years working on a project with strong Spanish Colonial and Mediterranean influences. It changed how I viewed the application of these styles.

Disney Parks: I spent a portion of my career frequenting the Disney Theme Parks. This exposure to dozens of design styles, though often exaggerated, established an appreciation for valuing variety and uniqueness.

Minimalism: Ever since reading Focus Manifesto by Leo Babauta I’ve become interested in simplifying my life, and this translates across to creating work that is honest, with truth to materials. This taught me to value quality over quantity.

Flora: I’ve recently become interested in plants and trees. I’m fascinated with how they absorb and move nutrients. I’m amazed by the structures of trees, how strong yet flexible and resilient they are.

Not only does Design DNA influences how you think when creating something, it affects how you perceive the world. It determines what paintings you find beautiful, which designs capture you, and what products and services you tend to consume.

Next time you have a moment, consider what is in your Design DNA. you may find some insight into why you think the way you do.

Growing a design business is a challenging feat for many reasons. One of the biggest is due to the nature of design. Design is part art and part science. It is part subjective and part objective.

When you are building a design team, there is a certain amount of work that is objective. This is the 2+2=4 type of work. This work does not require a sense of artistry and can be done by less experienced team members as they learn, or by a machine. This is the work that scales.

The remaining work is art. The style evolves from the experience of the designer, and organizations will pay well to work with a designer that reflects their desired sense of artistry and style. When creating a piece of work, this style is the result of a million tiny decisions over the course of the design process that coalesce into the finished work. It is difficult to teach this, because you can not memorize a million hypothetical “if this, then this” responses. Rather, the instructor needs to teach the pupil how they think, which is no less challenging. It is also less practical as the design team becomes larger.

As a design team grows it must by necessity focus on the objective, scalable tasks. As a result, most design organizations, as they expand, loose their sense of style. This does not mean that they cease to produce thoughtful, successful designs. It means that as a whole, the organization looses it’s design identity.

My friend Mike and I started a sketching challenge. The challenge was simple; spend 15 minutes every day sketching. We both wanted to strengthen our visual communication skills. This seemed like a good way to do it.

I expected my skills to improve, and they did, slowly. What I did not expect was that there was a bigger benefit to sketching than merely learning how to create an image by hand. It was re-learning how to see.

I want to capture an image of a room, I can. In less than 5 seconds I can have my phone out of my pocket and snap a high resolution image of whatever it is I wanted to record. But I have not truly seen that room. I have not noticed the way the wall isn’t quite square, the way the light falls across someone’s face, or the forgotten nail on the panel board. These small details in agrégate make a moment worth capturing and are the reason, knowingly or unknowingly, I reach for my camera. Recording them slowly, deliberately, inefficiently, with a pen and a piece of paper, allows me to truly imbibe that moment. Even if I fail to adequately capture these moments in my sketches, I nevertheless have succeeded at learning how to see.

Blogs are difficult for me. This is not the first one I’ve started, but hopefully it will be the first one I stick with. One of the problems in the past has always been the internal battle that every creator fights through to share their content with the world; “is this worthy of being consumed,” and “is it worth my time to create.” The far bigger problem was my perception that in order for it to be a success, it must be well read. My perspective on these “problems” has changed recently. No longer is my goal to build a massive following. Rather, I merely desire to record the ideas that I have synthesized based on thoughts, observations, and beliefs about the world around me. I hope that by putting these words on the page and issuing them out into the world, it forces me to think critically about the world around me and helps me continue to pursue all that is good, beautiful, and true in my own life. I hope it does the same for you.