What do we say when we have to admit that our actions/attitudes didn't work as we expected? Our response, in preferred order, is usually as follows.

1. Something bad happened.
2. We made a mistake.
3. We were wrong.

…While the other side prefers them in the opposite order. Okay, we know.

A well-known example of this expectation mismatch appears in an open letter written by a writer fired from TechCrunch for soliciting gifts. This is how the culprit acknowledged his wrongdoings.

In some way or another, a line was crossed that should have never been.

It's just a statement; there is not even a word of “sorry.” But as much as we would like to label this guy as a liar/chicken, we must admit that we all try to do what he did, and that's why his response makes us so upset. We try to deflect the blame with the same passion as when we try to spearhead the accusation.

The blamer/blamed relation is like a well-choreographed fight sequence. Hold your sword in one hand, your shield in the other (and make sure you have a well-matched opponent). Once the fight begins, despite the death/life tension, the interaction starts to look like dancing or even figure skating. You thrust the sword and the opponent turns it aside with his shield; vice versa. Sometimes we don't even notice we are taking predictable turns.

The good thing is that we are fighting on fair ground. The bad thing is that the fight continues forever, especially when the parties are at equal levels.

http://www.youtube.com/e/f6o9p8yXjr0

I admire Jackie Chan, but 10 minutes of this? 9.5 minutes too long.

What all of us should want, in the end (and in the beginning), is to finish it off quickly, as demonstrated by the world's most famous professor:

http://www.youtube.com/e/anEuw8F8cpE

But most of the time, we prefer the long, hard, and brutal version, both as an audience and as a player.

Why?

The answer has eluded me for years, especially because I myself have the same tendency to join choreographed discussion/fights (mostly on the defensive side), knowing what they take. I now think it is because we are NOT actually discussing the subject, after all. In this blame game, our focus is always on the same issue, regardless of the nature of the problem: us.

• When we defend ourselves, we are trying to dodge the accusations that point toward us.
• When we blame someone, we are trying to point the accusations toward him or her.

We aren't trying to solve the problem; We are trying to communicate. And because communication itself is pleasure (it might even be our raison d'être), we tend to engage in fruitless fighting. In fact, the more prolonged the discussion is, the better; the definition of a good game is that it can continue forever (ask any game designer or TV show producer).

To break out of this mold, we consciously need to change the subject (person) to something else…what about the problem itself? Then "I made a mistake," the second less-favorite response, starts to look attractive. Admitting a mistake seems to work well because:

1. The person still takes responsibility (the accuser will be satisfied).
2. The focus shifts from the person to the incident (from making to mistake)
3. The analysis of the "mistake" follows (completing the shifting of the subject)

As far as I know, the people who have mastered this subject-shifting technique is Israeli businesspeople. During several years of working at an Israeli company, whenever they had to admit errors, they always–always–made the "it was a mistake" statement. It still pissed off some people, especially Japanese customers who are too accustomed to hear apologies (long story), but it did move things forward.

Wait. If they are that specialized in moving things forward, how come they are continuing their struggles with their neighbors for…two millennia?

Instead of the usual Thursday blog update, this week I would like to share some information regarding the tragedy that hit my home country. My family, my friends are all safe but that doesn't make the three incidents—earthquake, tsunami, nuclear power plant malfunction—less serious.

The whole incident started somewhat similar to a Hollywood film, such as fishing boats sailing across rice fields while a car frantically finds a way to avoid the onslaught of waves.

But the similarity ends there, sadly. The whole picture is increasingly looking like a beginning of a year-long marathon. It's not going to end in a happy tone after two hours of viewing.

Forget all the hypes for now. What can we do? That's the only question that matters now. After researching (=googling) for several days, here are two things that Japan needs right now.

• Send money. Don't sent stuff (including yourself).

Nobody in the ground zero has the capacity to accept small contributions such as clothes, canned foods, and blankets. Put yourself in their positions—what you need is 10,000 identical blankets that doesn't require inspecting and repacking and considering sizes and genders. Who does that? Big brothers—corporations and international organizations such as the Red Cross.

We're not a big fan of them, but who cares? They get the job done, so let's support them. It is very easy: go to Google.com, click the special link under the search box (or go directly), check all the news and Red Cross donation box. Make it as simple as possible for the people out there.

• Spread words that you trust.

It is true that the Japanese government and the electricity company are not doing a great job in terms of disclosure. They simply don't have the capacity or experience (in case of the electricity company, they do have an incentive to shut up). What we can do is to restrain ourselves and send information that we personally trust. News from a credible organization is not always trustable.

What we should do is not to judge information based on its source, but based on our gut. Before you pass the next "Japan in crisis of meltdown" rumor that came from your friend or your RSS feed from The NY Times, read the whole article. Watch the whole video. And ask yourself: Do I believe it? If the answer is yes, share it. If no, don't. It doesn't matter if the news came from the Associated Press or your grandma—it is ultimately about creating mutual trust. Let's trust ourselves more, first.

Here are some information that might help in getting a better perspective, or inspirations.

• How bad is the nuclear meltdown in Japan? A thorough but accessible explanation from a professor.
• Japan on catastrophes and miracles, a personal account A very encouraging first-person account during the first 24 hours after the quake
• News, maps, donations page from Google I am going to stick with you for my life, Google.
• Riots and Looting in Japan (or lack thereof) Japan disappoints the world yet again

Finally, let's focus on the hope, not despair. Three senior citizens were rescued from their apartment after three days of lockout due to tsunami. What did they say with a broad smile, right after they had been rescued?

1. We are all fine.
2. We have been through this before. (So there is a positive aspect in getting old, after all)
3. Let's build it again.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zeroCZSrjo&w=500&h=306]  

I would like to add: Let's behave like that old, nameless, but awesome guy.

(Note: This is old news.) A while ago TechCrunch sold itself to AOL. TechCrunch did it to outsource promotion and technical support.

Michael Arrington, TechCrunch founder: The truth is I was tired. But I wasn’t tired of writing, or speaking at events. I was tired of our endless tech problems, our inability to find enough talented engineers who wanted to work, ultimately, on blog and CrunchBase software. And when we did find those engineers, as we so often did, how to keep them happy. Unlike most startups in Silicon Valley, the center of attention at TechCrunch is squarely on the writers. It’s certainly not an engineering-driven company.

He made sure the soul of TechCrunch would not be compromised, especially in these areas::

• Independence
• Neutrality
• Employment

What does AOL get in return? Well, it needs something to anchor itself in reality. "Oh, it's TechCrunch’s owner" is not the greatest way to be remembered, but it still beats being forgotten.

Sarah Silverman: @SteveCase You should be nicer to the last person on earth w an aol account.

So that was a match made in heaven? Not so much. A mere two days later, the very same Michael Arrington made this statement: He cannot work under their conditions (sarcastically, of course):

Total number of internal TechCrunch meetings in the five years prior to AOL Acquisition: 1

I’m not even sure our AOL acquisition has legally closed yet. But today we celebrate our new corporate overlords with…an internal all hands. EVP David Eun, Heather’s new boss, scheduled a whopping 3.5 hour all hands meeting today starting at 11. Everyone’s here in the office pretending like it’s perfectly normal to be awake and in the office at this ridiculous hour. And God help us if news breaks, because we’ll all be in the conference room acting out a Dilbert cartoon.

 Looks like they were too busy crossing the items in the prenuptial agreement, while ignoring the existence of…cultural differences.

It reminds me of a story about the acquisition of IDEO, the world-famous design house, by SteelCase, one of the biggest office furniture companies. IDEO designs, Steelcase makes and sells. Perfect? No – what I heard from a person close to the source was as follows: Instead of IDEO's creativity adding spice to SteelCase's business mind, bureaucracy and rigidity were infiltrating the design house.

We tend to forget that collaboration is about changing as well as adding to each other. You can't simply add your partner's strength to your existing expertise. You change, as well as your partner. You can't pretend it's like adding an optional module onto your computer. It is more like switching your OS.

P.S. Maybe Michael Arrington couldn't see it coming because he was too detached from how the world outside his kingdom works. One meeting in five years?

We choose a job that is popular at the moment because we think it will allow us to be in the spotlight, and therefore, to be more effective. I used to believe in (or hope for) both assumptions. But now I am doubting the latter. I now think the more attention you receive, the harder it becomes to be effective, or to get heard more.

Here is a bit of my own story. I am a technical writer. I sit in a cubicle for nine hours, barely talking with anyone, typing on the computer keyboard. My fingers and eyeballs are the only sense organs that are in use. This job can be defined as anything but fancy.

Yet it is the most creative work I have engaged in. Three months into being a technical writer, I was already having great fun organizing content, sorting out procedures, and filling in the missing information. My employer liked my documents and my ego was boosted.

So I became ambitious, sort of, and switched to a boutique computer accessories company under the equally fancy premise of being an "interaction designer." I thought it was a natural progression. Any technical writer will face a situation in which he or she is forced to write a 15-page section for a simple task such as downloading a software update…knowing that putting a red Download button on the screen will eliminate the need for the document (thus saving users in the true way). If I joined the design team, instead of being a firefighter, I could be the architect who can allocate fireproof materials or more sprinklers in the first place.

And in the new workplace, I couldn't do what I hoped to do: improve the usability of products. There were many reasons, but the biggest one was my inability to deliver results—as always the case. It wasn't simply about doing the best and not reaching the goal; it was also about not being able to getting into the 'zone,' where your work turns into your hobby. I didn't enjoy working as I hoped.

I switched my job back into technical writing, and my mojo has started to come back. The final verdict has yet to be served, but I have been having a great time creativity-wise, and I have a feeling that things will go fine with my colleagues.

I had to ask myself the hard question – why I couldn't express myself enough in a supposedly creativity-oriented company? , Yet here I am enjoying a burst of creativity in a traditional manufacturing company similar to where I first started? What is the difference?

The answer: fewer people care about what I do as a technical writer r than as a designer.

In documentation, except for the poor victims (users with broken devices), many stakeholders tend to be happy as long as there is a small booklet in the product package. Or they have been given bad manuals for the whole time and don't know anything else. It is a sad truth, but as a side effect, technical writers in general enjoy a great amount of autonomy in how they do their work. (I have yet to see career advice for technical writing highlighting this issue, so here I say it out loud.)

But I learned that in product design, EVERYBODY cares (and has an idea of what's a good piece of design regardless of his or her professional background). The more voices exist, the longer the design takes. It wasn't uncommon for my employer to spend a month designing a packaging box. Let's not mention the product itself. (Granted, the result looks stunning.)

I was asked to accomplish work without errors, without free experimentation, and under close scrutiny. On the contrary, the good works I had done in the past were results of small failures, lots of iterations and many experiments, and autonomy. I did not realize it; if I did, I would have tried to abandon my "business model" early on.

So here is the lesson: Attention > Freedom. The closer you inch toward the center of attention, the less creative space you automatically receive. You must be aware of this factor and make a conscious effort to break out of this wall, or decide what’s best for you.

It has been over a year since I started learning Tibetan Buddhism. Initially it was just out of curiosity: I was thinking of Buddhism as a philosophy integrated with traditional Asian culture such as meditation, healthy diet, and relaxation. I focused on the intellectual aspect of Buddhism, telling myself that I wasn't into organized religions; I was too comfortable positioning myself as agnostic, because (1) it sounded less offensive than being an atheist and (2) honestly, I had no idea if God exists. (I still don't know.)

A few months after I started visiting the dharma hall I realized my life was turning around in a better way when I caught myself during a burst of anger. I felt strange because the angry emotion was so…intense, despite the source incident being relatively minor. Then I noticed that I was upset for the first time in two weeks. I used to get upset on a daily or even hourly basis. It was like having a shot of whiskey after staying away from alcohol for months: the intoxicating effect is much stronger when you are usually sober. But what’s more important in this case was that being angry was no longer a part of my daily routine.

I checked what has changed, and studying Buddhism was the most probable cause of my improved calmness. I was sold, and have started practicing it, not merely learning about it.*

Now that I claim myself to be a Buddhist, it is time to do a reality check. How I would look to my old self two years ago (pre-Buddhism)? That self would ask me these two questions:

• Am I getting religious (which I had always avoided like a plague)?
• Have I changed fundamentally?

To the first question, my current attitude is: Whatever. Religion is just a label (or as a smart friend of mine told me, it is the believers who create religions[SLX1]  to control whatever they wish to control). I believe what I believe, and now I put less emphasis on how others would think of me than how I can be myself, or who I want to be.

Is Buddhism a religion or a philosophy? It does not matter what you call it. Buddhism remains what it is whatever label you may put on it. The label is immaterial. Even the label 'Buddhism' which we give to the teaching of the Buddha is of little importance.
What the Buddha taught, Walpola Rahula

To the second question: No, I haven't changed. Instead, I might be turbo-charging my focus on life, which might come across as "change," though. I have always been fascinated about knowing the deeper truths in our lives, and Buddhism just came at the right time, because it is all about realizing the truth. The truth about what? Again, whatever.

Almost all religions are built on faith–rather 'blind' faith it would seem. But in Buddhism emphasis is laid on 'seeing,' knowing, understanding, and not on faith, or belief.
What the Buddha taught, Walpola Rahula

To summarize, I guess I am getting better at being myself, after all this year of meditating, practicing qigong, reciting mantras, and reading sutras. And now I am starting to think about all the "life change" people talk about: isn't it all about getting better at being ourselves?

*My anger management is getting better. For minor issues, now I can predict how my anger would grow, and how long it would take until it disappears. It is a weird but refreshing feeling to know something before it actually happens, because my relationship with anger had been in the line with this:

I store my sip of coffee before I swallow it, like a chipmunk. This is something I know I do but I can't stop doing because I don't notice I am doing it until after I've done it.
Jill Soloway, Tiny Ladies in Shiny Pants

P.S. This is where I practice: EWCP.