A neurotic Google search recently unearthed the below article, which I wrote and posted more than three years ago. It chronicles events that my imagination was happy to revisit. But its topic, the the elusive definition of well-being, is something I wrestle with to this day.

Can Well-Being Be Measured?
Originally written and posted on July 18 2007

Our stereotypes of wealth and poverty develop at a young age, and are deeply entrenched in our minds. Roughly speaking, to be wealthy is to have more resources, which it to enjoy a higher quality of life. To be wealthy is to be well. To be poor, on the other hand, is to lack, which is to do, well…poorly. Generally speaking, most would agree that they are better off having more as opposed to less.

But sometimes more evolved cultural values emerge from poverty. In the poorest regions of the world, members of communities are often more interdependent, and in closer contact with each other. Family is more important, as is religion and spirituality.

Never have I witnesses a greater sense of community than during the past two months while living in Harlem. At night and on weekends, the streets of Harlem come alive. Fire hydrants blast water on heat evading kids. Music blares. The streets are filled with people of all ages playing sports of all kinds, the sidewalks consumed by game upon game of cards and dynamos. People eat, drink, dance and play. On Friday and Saturday nights especially, the blocks of Harlem transform into a vibrant, ad hock festival.

Many would say that this behavior is precisely the result of poverty and, therefore, is the evidence of a less desirable well-being. They blast fire hydrants because they have no air conditioning. They dance in the streets because they have no disposable income to go to clubs. And they are in the streets to begin with because they can’t afford beautiful, comfortable homes in which to spend their time. Is this apparently heightened sense of community indicate a higher well-being, or is it the evidence of a lower quality of life?

While growing up in the suburbs south of Toronto, I witnessed no such festival atmosphere, no such exhibition of community and togetherness in the neighborhoods in which I lived. At midnight on any Friday night in the suburban streets of Toronto or anywhere else, the streets are empty.

I’m not saying that Harlem has it right and the suburbs have it wrong. I believe that both sides of this contrast possess characteristics that are essential to the well-being of any population. I’m simply raising the question that perhaps measuring well-being is more complicated than we typically think.

A report recently surfaced in Quebec, Canada, indicating that the province’s workforce is less productive than those of many of its provincial counterparts, most notably Ontario and Alberta, the countries wealthiest provinces. Former Quebec premier Lucien Bouchard criticized Quebecers as being “lazy,” imploring them to work harder to build a thriving economy. Bouchard, and many others, draw the immediate conclusion that, if individual productivity is lower, the province is worse off. The data on Quebec’s worker productivity were sound, however, such measures of a population’s well-being are hopelessly incomplete. As most Canadians know well, Quebecers value family and social interaction more than other regions. What Bouchard called “laziness” is, in fact, a cultural value: spending time with friends and family, experiencing food and wine, enjoying the arts, and being social.

This is not to conclude that Quebec could not afford to be more productive. There are, obviously, many benefits, both societal and otherwise, to higher economic productivity. But before we criticize Quebec for its laziness, we should consider the cultural and other non-economic factors that comprise Quebec’s well-being. The United Nations’ Human Development Index, widely used to compare and contrast standards of living between countries across the globe, integrates literacy, life expectancy, education and gross domestic product (GDP) into its formula. This is a good start, but still fails to measure certain aspects of well-being, such as those concluded in the Harlem vs. suburbs exercise. How close do citizens feel to their neighbors, how much use do they make of their neighborhood and how interwoven is their community?

Perhaps reducing well-being to one universal formula is impossible, because different populations would disagree with the very indicators upon which the formula is based. Harlem would perhaps value community and open block parties more than the suburbs, which would place privacy and personal security at a higher importance. But at the very least, we must use more diverse indicators to measure and understand well-being. The suburbs may enjoy higher rates of employment, but if they come second to the inner-city on community indicators, who’s better off?

Many people, both well known figures and obscure historical personalities, have lived lives that rival any screenplay or novel for their suspense, empathetic draw and obedience to classical storytelling virtues. By studying the lives of Richard Nixon and Sir Winston Churchill, we satisfy our insatiable appetite for stories of falls from grace, corruption, betrayal, redemption and victory. We learn about the madness of the Watergate scandal and the absurdity yet importance of the second world war through the perspectives of those periods’ most influential, indeed, determining actors. These compelling stories give us our fix for a well spun tale, while quenching our thirst for knowledge of political history.

I’ve dabbled in the history of science not by taking night classes at a community college, but by reading the biographies of Darwin, Copernicus and Kepler. My business knowledge has been widely expanded by reading the biographies of Donald Trump, Bill Gates and John D. Rockefeller. (To a lesser extent, my appreciation for the history of social networking was widened by recently watching The Social Network (2010), a film at least true enough to facts to be considered a bio picture.) Like any good story, a biography entertains us, tugs at our emotions and tells us something about humanity. But unlike Toy Story 2 or Batman Returns, a biography is also educational.

The downside to fulfilling our lust for story through biography is, of course, that we know the ending in advance. Unless we’re disturbingly under-informed, we know in advance the unfortunate fate of Abraham Lincoln and have at least a vague appreciation for the stunning accomplishments of Sir Isaac Newton. It’s hard to build suspense when the career comeback of Steve Jobs is so documented and celebrated, the assassination of John Lennon so talked about and grieved. While the eventual fates of these iconic individuals is well known, what’s less known are the under-appreciated details of their lives and the casts of characters who supported and rivaled them. What early influences shaped Lennon’s musical style, let alone his political passions? What childhood experiences sharpened Jobs’s maniacal, driven nature? These details place the historical and contemporary luminaries whom we love and thought we understood in a more complex and human light.

Please share your favorite biography in a comment below. Among those on my recently-read and highly recommended list are:

>Losing My Virginity, the autobiography of Sir Richard Branson
>Isaac Newton, the biography of Sir Isaac Newton
>iCon, the biography of Steve Jobs
>I Make My Own Rules, the autobiography of LL Cool J
>The Joker’s Wild, the biography of Jim Carrey

I share with you this imposing figure to let you in on a little secret. A hundred million bucks, a pile of scratch to stretch from here to the moon, is my objective, something I’m working towards obtaining.

It’s a goal I’ve set for myself. Some are loosing those incessant 15 pounds, others learning Spanish. Some are working towards home ownership and financial independence. Some are doing all these things and much more. Me? I’m myopically focused on a flush disposition, excessive cash to the tune of nine figures.

Before you chalk up up my quest for millions to pure, unadulterated greed, hear me out. With my dump truck full of cash, I have no plans to buy an island in the Caribbean or anywhere else. I’ve no aspirations to own a professional sports franchise. These days, I’ve barely the desire to catch a game as a spectator.

In his first TED Talk back in March 2007, Jeff Skoll talked about his early motivation to devote his life to social causes, dating back to his early childhood. As a young man, he reasoned that in order to be philanthropic, he’d need resources. Skoll became an entrepreneur to earn some scratch, which he planned to use to finance a socially motivated media company.

In 1996, after a couple of failed attempts at business success, Skoll became the first president of eBay, a fledgling Silicon Valley start-up founded less than a year earlier by Pierre Omidyar. The company achieved staggering success, enriching Skoll enormously. (The billions he went on to make after eBay went public in 1998 make a piggy bank of my measly hundred mil.) Since then, the Canadian-born entrepreneur has embarked on several endeavors in social entrepreneurship.

To use Skoll’s language, my $100 million are resources. To live the life of which I dream, to have the impact, make the contribution I wish to make, I’ll need capital. What exactly have I planned to make the world a better place, you ask? I’ll fill you in as soon as resources begin to mount. As the pile reaches towards $100 million, I expect it will be obvious to you.

My search produced only $6.00 and the woman behind the counter, who I deduced was an owner-operator in this apparent family business, could not accept payment by debit or credit. “I think I’m a little short here,” I said, looking up from my palm full of change apologetically. Without hesitation, she waved her hand in dismissal of my predicament and declared, “You will pay the difference next time.” I was stunned. We made eye contact, she smiled and I quietly left.

I was expecting her to shrug her shoulders powerlessly and have me fumble my way to the closest ATM. This woman didn’t just ‘comp’ a buck-fifty off my order. She entrusted me. She took a look at the sum total of my customer experience and judged it to be worth far more than a buck-fifty. In short, this wise entrepreneur treated me with a little humanity.

So is this really a big deal, to overlook a buck-fifty? In today’s cynical consumer marketplace, this sort of gesture is a rare experience. Perhaps it shouldn’t be so exceptional, a small act of trust from vendor to patron, but it is. Since that experience a week ago, I’ve lunched at this place three times, a habit that will do doubt continue. This act of humanity instantly won me over. Hell, look at me; I’m event blogging about it. (And I’ll share a link to whatever web presence they have, when I find its trace. While revolutionary in customer service, these folks seem to be inept in the digitas.)

So take close note, merchants and entrepreneurs. It was not long ago that small business people of all kinds extended credit to individual costumers regularly, costumers who were not just customers but also human beings, fellow members of their community. Today, fitness clubs, telecom companies and countless other businesses build customer relationships on deceit and contractual obligation. In this cynical era, all you have to do to stand out, to stun us and win us over for life is treat human beings with a little humanity.

Watching the film or reading its script, you will find not a shred of unnecessary dialogue. Everything either sets up or executes a gag while advancing character and driving action. It’s a story about second chances, redemption and the prevalence of love. It’s a classically written screenplay that contains themes of which audiences never tire, dating back to Shakespeare and then before.

If you’ve seen the film you likely share my affection for it. Critics could claim that some of the humor in Major League is juvenile, certain outcomes predictable. Perhaps they could criticize the amount of baseball knowledge the movie assumes of its audience. But few would accuse Major League of coming up short on the entertainment front. The film is, simply put, a clever story well told.

David S. Ward, the film’s writer and director, the chap who had won an Oscar for writing The Sting (1974), had trouble selling Major League to studios. He finally convinced Morgan Creek Productions and Mirage Productions to bankroll the film. The result was its production in 1988 with a budget of $11 million.

Now twenty years since the release of Major League (to commercial and critical success, by the way), what is the state of storytelling on the silver screen? As budgets have ballooned and special effects grown more sophisticated, have, too, the tales that filmmakers today spin?

Regretfully, I think not. Despite massive technological gains and stratospheric budgets, today’s films are often successful products, but rarely great stories. This era of film-making is plagued by the ever sharpening commercial imperative and marred by a lack of originality. What sophisticated audiences cry out for today is not bigger budgets or more mind-bending special effects. Movie goers aren’t calling for the casting of bigger, more reliable Hollywood stars. What we crave is story.

A call for story is not a call for increasingly fantastical characters who live out their fates in ever more fanciful worlds. I’m not against the science fiction and fantasy genres, but a creative setting and bizarre character does not a great story make. I’m calling for a return to what matters most to audiences: characters with whom we empathize, seemingly inescapable conflicts and an outcome that tells us something about ourselves.

When Charlie Rose recently asked him about the most important thing in storytelling, James Cameron replied, “Find a key into the heart of the audience; find universals in human experience and then express them in exotic new ways.” Avatar (2009) is choc full of mind-bending special effects, fantastical characters and fanciful worlds. But Cameron himself calls the story simple; it’s a classic tale whose structure stands on the shoulders of stories going back centuries.

2009 saw the greatest ever worldwide box office revenues. As storytellers in an era when the cinematic medium is high and on the rise, let us follow Cameron’s lead. Let us start with fascinating characters and excruciating obstacles. Let us start with colliding values and fulfilling triumphs. Like Cameron, we can package our story however we wish, set it in whatever world we can dream up. But beware of the allure of novelty and technology. Today, we must not stray from fundamentals, we must not deviate from the imperative to spin a great tale.

Dear Stephen,

I have finished Zen and the Art of Screen Writing, and am able to kindly return it at mutual convenience. It was a fantastic read; thank you so much for lending it to me.

Please pardon the slightly scuffed-up cover and folded corners. I tend to read on the subway, where books are banged about, bookmarks scarce.

Wait, I need to cop to one other thing: There’s a big coffee stain spanning pages 14 and 15. This ol’ Starbucks junkie just wasn’t paying enough attention that day. There’s also a good deal of coffee spillage on the cover, rendering the title and author illegible. This is of no concern to you, of course, as you already know full well what book it is and who wrote it.

Come to think of it, please excuse any notes I’ve made in the margins. You know, those little notations we all make in the margins of an inspiring book? I did a fair amount of that, jotting down quotes and references. You may even find the odd unrelated scribble. I’m quite sure there’s more than a few games of hangman in there, not to mention one or two grocery lists and a map of my neighborhood.

Oh – and if you come across any doodles of naked ladies, just ignore them. A guy can be forgiven for that sort of thing, I’m sure you’ll agree.

And since we’re on the topic, I hope you weren’t too attached to pages 50 through 113. I was so struck by those chapters I took the liberty of tearing them out. Surely you wont think it selfish that I wanted those sections on hand for future reference.

Shoot. I’m forgetting about the puke, here. There is a substantial amount of puke all over the book. I’m not sure what the hell happened that day; it must have been the questionable Chinese take-out that I washed down with all those Red Bulls. At any rate, I hope all this doesn’t preclude another read on your part.

When can we meet to return the book?

Sincerely,

Chris

In my small way, by regularly reading and sometimes commenting, I’ve contributed to the ascent of the blog. More blogs are noted in my bookmarks and Google Reader than newspaper websites. I’m more likely to be informed of breaking news by a blogger than a traditional journalist. I’ve discovered more products that I now use via recommendations from bloggers than any other source, excepting my network of friends. I know who Robert Scoble, Matt Mullenweg and Josh Marshall are.

I think you get the picture. As a consumer of news and opinion (and the odd discursive rant or sales pitch in poor disguise), blogs have become an integral part of my day, indeed, my life.

Long a reader of blogs, today marks my entry to the blogging universe as a contributor.

Complete And Utter Nonsense will be an ongoing effort to share my opinion and analysis on capitalism, society and the many other ideas that keep me up at night. I commit to you that no topical boundary will be found here, no opinion censored in the haste of political correctness. As opinions and ideas churn their way through the digestive system that is my mind, you will read about it in detail (although hopefully with metaphors less crude than that).

What this blog will not do is focus myopically on the subject matter of my career. This, I believe, is a common mistake of the amateur blogger, which is to say the blogger whose blog is not her profession, though perhaps a source of income. Fred Wilson, author of AVC, writes maniacally about venture capital but manages to sometimes deviate from the financial to issues political and societal. On her HorsePigCow blog, Tara Hunt talks about social media, her bread and butter, but also the meaning of citizenship, gender roles and consumerism. On BlogMaverick, Mark Cuban writes about everything from sports to presidential politics to the future of digital economics. To the amateur blogger, this breadth should be seen not as a lack of focus but the celebration of variety, a reflection of the thematic abundance of our imaginations.

Complete And Utter Nonsense will also not be a repository of hastily scribbled musings and poorly structured arguments. This, I contend, is the second most common mistake of the blogger. A news story breaks, she rushes to the laptop to summarize it in a post with a little commentary for good measure, and so is added her unedited chatter to the noise that has become of the web. Hell, if the meme has legs, maybe she’ll get a couple thousand ‘uniques’ out of it. On Complete And Utter Nonsense, you will read articles that have been thought-out, researched and edited. If I eat a sandwich for lunch, you will not read about it at all, let alone in great detail by 2:00pm.

As an aspiring writer and storyteller, my mission is to raise questions, to enhance your understanding of things through art and argument. What you’ll find here is the thoughtful unraveling of the ever-widening set of topics that hold my imagination in merciless captivity. This includes politics, the future of capitalism, the digitas, health, film, customer service and more.

Finally, I invite you to participate, for a blog is not a blog until its readers chime in. In your comments, I encourage you to add dimension to my thoughts or contend my assertions. All I insist upon is that you keep this blog free of spam, share your true identity and keep the discourse civil. If we all lived and browsed by these simple rules, what a strikingly more beautiful thing the web would be.

So there you have it, dear reader. You’ve climbed inside my imagination and had your first peek about. I hope I’ve enticed you to stick around.