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Don't Wait For Permission, It Ain't Coming

I saw this excellent blog post - "What a High School Student Learned from Paul Graham" - and I was really impressed with the author. He sounds like he's going to kick lots of ass.

I commented on his site, and I like how this comment turned out. Here you go -

Impressive, very good attitude. Godspeed in your endeavors.

A quick thought - don't wait for permission in any area of life. It's rarely that people will throw open the doors to you. Most forms of adventure and worthy causes and prestige can be walked into with a small amount of money as long as you're willing to try.

It costs maybe $500, max, to get a basic scubadiving license, and it's one of the most enjoyable things you'll ever do in your life.

Smart Kids (book excerpt)

On Mike Dariano

I've not forgotten about my parenting book, I'm up to over 30,ooo words on the project after taking a break to participate in NaNoWriMo and the holidays. More excerpts.

My daughters are getting smart, maybe too smart. If the world is the classroom for life and I am their teacher, then I've chosen an odd curriculum. Like a futuristic robot that learns things and then conquers her masters, they are heading in an unsuspected direction.

Their adaptability, when it comes to learning things is entirely self serving. Through my slightly above parenting skills, I have taught them to explore and use loopholes, do the minimum required, and will us to the extreme limits of threats that involves removes candy from their lives. Mostly this all happens in the kitchen.

One of the first clean-up skills I taught was to dirty plates to the dishwasher and load them in. I didn't care if the plates ended up upside down, so long as they made it there. This worked fine for awhile - my daughters marching over to the dishwasher like little soldiers after each meal. Then one night something odd happened, my youngest daughter didn't finish her meal.

This itself did not bother us. My wife and I have never been “Clean your plate” parents, instead being the “If you don’t eat it now, you’ll eat it later” ones. It turns out, that we were not exactly that type either - or at least I was not. If my daughter left food on her plate one of two things would happen. Either I would sit at the table and pick at it and then I would take it over to the dishwasher. Or, she would take it over to the counter and after packing away leftovers, I would put it in the dishwasher. In both situations I was the one loading the dishwasher. The loan chore I had assigned to my daughter was now being done by me. My wife of course, was the one to point this out and I took comfort in my loss by eating the leftover comfort food.

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