Deciding to blog daily comes with a cost. It’s another thing on top of a job, a personal life, a social life and a podcast. I knew I had to quit something to make it all work. So, I quit my novel. Maybe I’ll take it up again, in time, but quitting the damn thing was the best choice I could make. Without the huge, unfinished, nebulous project of a long-form piece of fiction hanging over my head, I freed up a great deal of mental energy better spent on projects with a more concrete deadline and payoff. Like this one.

Sometimes, you have to quit. In my own experience, knowing when it’s time to quit comes well after the actual time to quit. I started work on my novel in December of 2008. At last check, it clocked in at about 40,000 words of incomplete first draft. It’s been a sporadic process of inspiration, manic typing, burnout, recovery, inspiration, manic typing, burnout… and diminishing returns. If its not going to get done any time soon, and I don’t want to do it any more, why even think about it? Dump it.

Quitting things is far too often seen as a failure, unless you’re talking about quitting something that is obviously bad for you like binge drinking, or heroin. Even then, the folks who still do those bad things will likely look at you with scorn. Writing a novel isn’t like doing heroin, but it’s damaging in its own way. As Dorothy Parker said, “If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.” She should know.

The reason we associate quitters with failure is that quitting is often seen as, like failure, a permanent state. We tend to associate quitting as a concept with things like walking off the job or dropping out of school. Rare is the company that’ll rehire you after quitting, even on the best of terms, and we know what happens to kids who drop out of school. Even though the culture is filled with stories of quitters who go back and pick up where they left off, we view them as outliers, and question their plausibly. How many times has Homer Simpson quit the power plant, anyway?

If you’re looking to quit a project, know that it doesn’t have to be permanent. You can start it again when you’re ready—if you’re ready. There’s a lot to be said for commitment, but as much as that’s valued, quitting should be valued as well. It’s another form of commitment, re-evaluating your life and focusing on a new priority. For me, it’s daily writing for an audience. For you, maybe you should quit your blog and write a novel. Maybe quit designing websites and learn iOS programming. Quit basketball, and take up baseball—or not. If the returns of what you’re doing are diminishing, dropping it for another thing may be the ticket. If it doesn’t work, you can try your old thing again with renewed vigor. What do you have to lose?

For four years, I lived across the street from a bar that specialized in craft beers and in whiskies. [1] During their first Whiskey Week, and the assistance of Kevin and Brian, the regular bartenders, I developed an appreciation for Bourbon and Scotch that has only continued to develop. After all, whiskey is an intimidating thing to appreciate. Cheap whiskies can be harsh, good whiskies can be expensive. There’s many styles, many price levels, many whiskey cocktails, and a lot to learn. I don’t claim to be an expert on the stuff, but I know what I like, and am eager to try new whiskies.

So, when I was invited to take part on a scotch tasting sponsored by The Glenlivet, I jumped at the chance. Scotch whisky is a complicated drink, and the few I’ve had I’ve enjoyed—preferring the peaty Islay single-malts [2] to blended, or less peaty single malts, but free whiskey is free whisky. The event began with a bar pouring glasses of the 12-Year, which I drank neat. It was great to have after walking in from a cold, winter evening in Manhattan. After three glasses, we were taken in for a proper seated tasting. We were kept in suspense by a twenty or so minute presentation on the history of The Glenlivet, and an overview of Scotch whisky and how to drink it, including stuff about tasting and top notes.

Honestly, I don’t need to be told how to drink whiskey. Or whisky. I’d argue that most of the people in the room knew about the fruity, floral, spicy, and smokey notes common to Scotches, and since Glenlivet’s barley is unsmoked, it was almost a waste of time to discuss it. Besides which, describing the taste of a spirit is an exercise in subjectivity. If you’ve ever read a spirit review where someone talks about “notes of prunes, tannin, and burning rubber in the finish,” and another of the same one mentions a completely different set of flavors, you’d understand. Everyone tastes different things when they drink a whiskey.

In either case, after the talk ended, I got a chance to taste a dram each of the 12-Year, 15-Year, and 18-Year Whiskys, both with, and without water. [3] They were all good whiskys for Speyside whisky. Sadly, I added a little too much water when tasting the 15-Year, and it fell apart—exactly what the guy overseeing the tasting warned us about. Having had three glasses of the 12-Year already, I didn’t get any surprises from that. The 18-Year, however, brought a tear to my eye. Spicy on the front, smooth in the finish, and absolutely incredible. I didn’t get much of a difference when tasting the 18-Year with water, but I was suitably impressed.

With some of my favorite writers and podcasters waxing rhapsodic about Old-Fashioneds, I think it’s important to step back and enjoy the base spirit. Whiskey, in almost all its forms, is a wonderful substance to be savored and enjoyed. If you’re whiskey-curious, The Kitchn has a great, simple guide that’ll help you develop your palate for the stuff. Try as many styles as you can find and afford. There’s bound to be something up your alley.

According to the Center for College Affordability (PDF), “The number of college graduates is expected to grow by 19 million, while the number of jobs requiring a bachelor’s degree is expected to grow by fewer than 7 million.” This means that “We are expected to create nearly three new college graduates for every new job requiring such an education.” This leads to massive amounts of underemployment, outstanding student loans, and a waste of a generation.

Typically, when articles like these get thrown around, there’s wags who pop up and say “Well, what did you expect if you went to school for Underwater Basketweaving, with a minor in Gender Studies! If you wanted a job after college, you should have majored in STEM.” Never mind that a STEM degree is no guarantee of success either. As someone who studied Computer Science, yet has a degree in English, lines like that make my eye twitch. Not all of us are cut out to be programmers, mathematicians, engineers, or the like. Higher mathematics makes my brain shit itself, as I learned the hard way. I found the study of literature and writing to be a much more rewarding experience, and I studied it knowing full well the difficulties that would come with having a BA instead of a BS.

Still, the implicit question in these reports and the retorts, is if college is valuable at all. The STEM-types think that college is valuable for learning hard skills, and that’s true to a point. When you’re learning electrical engineering or studying the hard sciences, college has distinct advantages over learning by yourself including access to equipment. Outside of those fields, the value of college becomes more abstract.

Plenty has been written about the death of Liberal Arts, and I’m not going to repeat it. However, I will point out that the practical benefit of any good Liberal Arts program is teaching a student how to communicate—especially in writing. A good Liberal Arts program also teaches a student how to think critically, to formulate an argument and defend that argument with facts—or at least with citations. I’ve joked to friends that getting a degree in English is learning to write papers about books you never finished reading. This is an exaggeration, but the point of literature classes is typically more than appreciating the book—it’s using the book as a tool to teach writing and argumentative skills.

Of course, writing and argumentative skills are not going to get you a job. My advice for anyone who wants to consider studying anything in Liberal Arts is to also learn some hard skills, preferably technology skills, as well. I taught myself how to build websites, how to make WordPress themes, and how to do some basic audio editing. More importantly, I used these skills as part of my hobbies, building a small portfolio of things I could point to and say “Although my work experience and education don’t reflect this, I know how to do these things, and here’s proof.” Even in the world of technology and programming Github is becoming the new résumé. A stamped piece of paper doesn’t say you know how to do x, a body of work says it.

Here’s the thing: college was never a guarantee to begin with. The idea that college is simply getting your ticket punch is no longer true, and I doubt it ever was. Putting in four years (or more) only shows two things to a prospective employer: that you can apply yourself to something, and that you can finish something. Having that to your name is a benefit, but it’s not—and never has been—enough. College can punch your ticket, but increasingly, you’ll still have to pay your dues working something unrelated to your major, or even area of interest, while you build up experience, skills, and maturity.

Yes, it’s hard to even get a job these days, I admit it. I’ve lived it. But, they do exist, even if it means taking something below your level. After college, I worked a full-time telemarketing job, and later a clerical job with the local government. Neither used the skills I learned in college, and the latter only required a high school education. I’m not saying to flip burgers, unless that’s all you can find, but something is better than nothing while you teach yourself something practical.

There’s still a value to college, but that value has changed. College is either the place you go to learn hard, practical skills, or the place you go to get soft skills while teaching yourself another skill. It is not for everyone. A college education is not a requirement if you want to become an iron worker, an artist, or a programmer. You can go to school, you can apprentice, or you can teach yourself. If you feel like college is the best option, however, do yourself a favor, and do it on the cheap. Get scholarships, go to a state school or a community college, stay local, and live at home. Student loan debt will cripple your aspirations far more effectively than a terrible job market.

Empty States

An interesting Tumblr of screenshots showing how applications handle the absence of content. Useful stuff for any UI/UX person.

Microsoft reacts to other companies’ products. BlackBerry reacts. Samsung reacts. Google reacts. Apple influences. Apple releases what it thinks will sell and only if the product has a place among its siblings. An “iPhone Plus” doesn’t scratch an itch. Just because the Galaxy S III is wildly popular doesn’t mean a 5-inch iPhone is necessary in an already tight device lineup. And contrary to popular belief, customers aren’t exactly passing up Apple current offerings.

This is exactly why Marco’s story on the plausibility of the iPhone Plus didn’t convince me. “Everyone else is doing it” has never been Apple’s raison d’être. If Apple does this, and they might, the immediate pundit reaction will be “Apple’s playing catch up,” which is only going to hurt them worse than keeping up the existing iPhone form factors.

Damned if they do, damned if they don’t.