If At First You Don’t Fail, Fail

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From what I could tell, early October 2006 fed into the beginnings of a great semester. Besides getting settled into college life, playing in my first preseason lacrosse scrimmages, and watching the Detroit Tigers battle their way toward the World Series, life was good.

It was a typical dorm night: I was watching the Tigers in the midst of their ALDS series versus the New York Yankees. As a part of the celebratory atmosphere, the Mountain Dew was flowing and there were copious amounts of gummy bears, worms, and other delectables.

Oh so suddenly, life happened.

A stomach ache from excess sugars was not what it seemed; as it turns out, appendicitis left me struggling on the should-have-been-cleaner carpet of my living room floor. I’ll save you the details–––which included choosing the worst hospital in our metropolitan area, projectile vomiting iodine-laced orange Gatorade in preparation of my CT scan, and immense, immense pain–––but I left the operating table one appendix lighter and on indefinite classroom leave.

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My loving parents flew across-country at a moment’s notice, and if I was a smart student, I would’ve spent just a day or two with them following my hospital release. I didn’t. Instead, I posted up at The Colony pool (or those fluffy, magnificent beds!) and elsewhere for two weeks. Resort living was easier than classes, I reckoned, and I was right.

Unfortunately, as my standard of living increased, my grade point average did not.

It didn’t help that my surgery came just before midterms, but I embellished my cause. In fact, failure became commonplace that semester. Professors were only able to extend so much grace, quite frankly, and that left me scrambling.

I have this vivid memory of showing up to a class that only met once per week. It was one of the final classes and my group was presenting something (of which I don’t remember). Here’s the kicker though, I didn’t present with them. They shut me out… on presentation day. I can’t tell you how mortifying it felt to stand up their with my group, all speaking, sans me.

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As it happens, I finished that semester with a 1.5 GPA. That’s a whole lotta failin’.

Gone were my chances at a degree in film production (and my goal to work in post-production audio and “be the soundtrack guy”). I had to fail many, many times that semester to prepare me for future success. In fact, it was only the A’s I received in subsequent semesters that paved my way into business school and allowed me to graduate with a degree in entrepreneurship and finance.

If you’re not failing, you’re failing to make progress.

…which means you’re still failing? I don’t know. I just think about it and write. You’re the one that has to make sense of it.

Anyway.

If you’re failing to make progress, you’re not failing in the best way possible.

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Nobody ever got anywhere by playing it safe.

Do you want to make your dreams come true? Take some risks and make it happen.

Take a risk and tell your boss why you deserve a raise.

Take a risk and ask out that sexy little thing at the gym.

Take a risk and travel the country, seeing all that there is to see.

Before Quarterlife Man, there were tons of failures… half-websites that never quite made it. Did they have anything to do with QM? Not really, but you don’t need direct correlation to learn something. Through years of messing around–––figuring out what worked and what didn’t–––I was able to launch an incredible ministry for college-aged and 20 something men.

Your failure will pave the way to your success.

Start failing, today. Your future depends on it.

[box_help]What’s your biggest fear? What’s your ultimate goal? Does the fear of failure play into the accomplishing of that goal? Let us know in the comments.[/box_help]

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