“Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”
― Thomas Jefferson
Hi internatinal friends,
Can you believe it’s already May? Nearly half the year has passed, and in just a month, we’ll be entering the second half. In my country, the rainy season has begun, which means that, as a Meetup organizer, I now have to focus on planning indoor events instead of outdoor ones.
As I reflect, I realize how much has been happening in my life—this train shows no sign of stopping. Between resolving work-related challenges, organizing events, writing books, and simply living day to day, I’ve had little time for introspection. So here I am, finally taking a moment to pause and reflect.
My glowing exclusionism:
Exclusionism has always cast a shadow over my life, often leading me into unwanted isolation. Unfortunately, that tendency resurfaced again recently. I hosted an event, and there were certain types of individuals I hoped would not attend. However, due to the inclusive nature of Meetup, organizers are generally expected to welcome everyone who expresses interest.
This time, I made a mistake. I unintentionally displayed a noticeably uncomfortable expression in front of the group. As a result, three people who had signed up for the event didn’t attend—what we commonly refer to as “no-shows.” Instead, two individuals who hadn’t RSVP’d appeared unexpectedly, and one of them belonged to the type of person I generally prefer to avoid.
In the end, I allowed them in, but from an organizer’s perspective, it wasn’t an ideal start. And this is precisely what I mean by exclusionism: I tend to shut out those I feel don’t belong in my world, choosing instead to connect only with a small circle of people I feel comfortable engaging with.
Given the inherently open and unpredictable nature of Meetups, this exclusionist mindset is clearly at odds with the platform’s ethos—and it’s something I continue to grapple with.
The perfectionism:
My perfectionism was a key factor in the event’s failure. I had an idealized vision of how it should unfold—how it must unfold. This image had been with me ever since last year’s event, which turned out to be a great success.
That previous success, however, came from the absence of expectation. I simply allowed myself to be present, to go with the flow—and everything came together naturally. But ever since, I’ve felt overshadowed by that success, constantly trying to replicate the same path.
This time, from the very beginning, the event was filled with unforeseen disruptions. Three attendees didn’t show up, and two others arrived without RSVPing—one of whom was someone I had hoped to avoid. The tension in the air felt palpable from that point on.
As the event progressed, I watched this person quickly settle in, charming and animated in conversation. Others seemed naturally drawn to his energy, and I began to feel displaced, irrelevant—even threatened.
My inner narrative—the one that said “it has to go this way”—collapsed. I couldn’t hide my discomfort. My body language betrayed my thoughts, and I knew people noticed. I couldn’t pretend to be at ease.
What was that reaction? He’s not a bad person—yet I must admit, I find myself afraid of him. Not because of anything he did, but because of what he represents: unpredictability, disruption, the loosening of control.
And maybe that’s the very thing I need to confront—my fear of letting go.
LifeOS Upgrade:
If my life were an operating system, it’s time for an upgrade—a smarter, more efficient, and more human-friendly version of myself. This recent failure has become a cornerstone for my next chapter. I have no compelling reason to remain stagnant, yet I also don’t feel the need to charge forward with haste. What I do know is how to rebuild myself.
This may seem like an unrelated tangent, but I’ve long struggled with a deep-seated fear of mathematics. From childhood through college, anything involving numbers would unsettle me—an anxiety rooted in academic traumas during my university years.
At the recent meetup, the conversation shifted to economics—yes, numbers again—and I found myself uneasy. This kind of psychological response might be hard for others to understand, but it became a catalyst. I’ve now resolved to relearn algebra and mathematics from the ground up, along with AI-related programming.
To truly attract others, I believe I must become someone who is dependable, intellectually engaging, and quietly confident. That is the version of myself I aspire to be. There’s no need to rush—I’ll upgrade my personal operating system step by step. I’m not sure how successful I’ll be, but I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to become someone truly worthy of admiration.
Conclusion:
I’ve experienced failures and made my share of mistakes—but they happened because I acted. I took steps to organize events. I made moves to advance my life. As Albert Einstein once said, there’s only one kind of person who never makes a mistake: the one who never tries.
So, dear readers, if you feel as though you haven’t made any meaningful change in your life, perhaps it’s because you haven’t yet taken that first step. If there’s something you truly want to achieve, go for it. It’s never too late to begin pursuing what you’ve always dreamed of.