Now, I’m not sure how I feel about this. One of my strengths is self-discipline and self-control – one year, I made and stuck to the restriction to have dessert only once per month. I willed myself to study from 9 am to 9 pm during half of college, as well. I go to the gym every other day, in the morning, without fail. The fact that people who repeatedly exert self-control are more likely to lose self-control later doesn’t necessarily imply that we have a finite amount of it. It may suggest, for example, that after avoiding temptation so much, most of us feel we deserve to give in.

In any case, the concept still helps explain why I have so much self-control. I believe it’s because my “acts of willpower” don’t actually use any (or much) willpower. In my head, it’s not a choice whether or not I go to the gym Monday, Wednesday, and Friday – it’s almost a fact. I don’t wake up and consider whether I should skip a day. The same thing with dessert – my now (more reasonable) weekly indulgence is not up for debate: if I’ve had it, there’s no more dessert until next week.

And I’ve actually noticed what happens when I stray from this. When I wonder, “Well, does this really count as dessert? Maybe I’ll just have two this week?” it starts wearing me down. I feel exhausted by all the self-denial.

So the way to avoid temptation, it seems, is to make temptation completely off-limits. Ariely suggests doing that physically – not buying cookies or ice cream, or avoiding bakeries – but I think you can do it mentally. Commit to a certain goal, and treat it as a fact. It’s not foolproof, but it can certainly help.

So I decided to embark on one month of self-improvement. Every day, I would do something (however small) to improve myself. I made a list of possible actions, and they all centered on a few values: being productive, learning, connecting with family and friends, and destressing.

It was an instructive month. I came across a few conundrums, like: how long should each activity be? (It ended up being around 15 minutes.) Do things I would normally be doing “count”? (I decided yes. In fact, it reminded me that I was already heading in the right direction.)

And yet, a month later, I don’t plan to continue this obsessive quest. It became a little gimmicky; some days, I would remember I hadn’t self-improved around 10 pm, and root around for something quick to do (hence all the meditation). But I do think it will be easier in the future to do self-improving activities. After all, I’ve experienced a whole month of good feelings associated with personal growth. In fact, it made sitting down to write this post a little bit easier.

If you’re curious, here’s what I did each day:

Week 1

• Oct 29: SkillShare course: A 60-Minute MBA
• Oct 30: Attended a talk by Jake Bronstein of Flint + Tinder
• Oct 31: Blogged about seriousness, inspired by that talk
• Nov 1: 10-minute meditation
• Nov 2: Networking at First Friday. I met Bowei Gai, the creator of “The China Startup Report,” who’s about to embark on a round-the-world trip to learn about startup ecosystems.
• Nov 3: Wrote a postcard to a friend, Faiza J.
• Nov 4: Didn’t worry

Week 2

• Nov 5: SkillShare course: Vulnerability
• Nov 6: Read non-fiction (and had my tooth attacked by a dentist – trust me, this “counts”)
• Nov 7: Prepped for a meeting with a potential mentor
• Nov 8: Hosted a crowdfunding panel at DCWEEK
• Nov 9: Hung out with a friend, Amanda C.
• Nov 10: Opted out of the x-ray machine at the airport, and was treated to a pat-down. (This falls into the category of being more assertive.)
• Nov 11: Played tennis with my brother, Sean

Week 3

• Nov 12: Participated in a Jeopardy/Wheel of Fortune competition with my dad and Sean (and won)
• Nov 13: 10-min meditation
• Nov 14: Called a friend, Donovan A.
• Nov 15: Stopped to smell the roses (or rather, to watch the sun set – see photo below)
• Nov 16: 10-min meditation
• Nov 17: Researched colleges for Sean
• Nov 18: Got a massage

Week 4

• Nov 19: Had sushi with Sean
• Nov 20: Picked up Fred from the airport
• Nov 21: Tried not to worry (and failed)
• Nov 22: Blogged about community
• Nov 23: Made a hard decision
• Nov 24: Made and ordered Fred’s Christmas presents
• Nov 25: 10-min meditation

Then I moved into the Ogden, a high-rise luxury apartment building amidst gritty downtown Las Vegas. (It’s a long story, but Tech Cocktail opened an office there.) The Ogden is home to Tony Hsieh and many Zappos folks, as well as much of the Downtown Project staff. Community figures prominently in the goals of the Downtown Project, which is revitalizing downtown Las Vegas by funding new businesses and buildings.

But it’s the Ogden itself that has won me over. We have a Google group for residents, so emails flow into my inbox daily. Check out this concert, come grab some free chili, our startup just launched, party at the local bar. Here’s what else I’ve gotten from the community, just by asking:

• Health. Someone recommended a primary care doctor for me. A doctor – as in, someone who helps you stay healthy. That’s super important.
• Mobility. We offered to give away our parking space in exchange for use of a car for grocery store trips. Voila – we can now get around easily without braving public transport.
• Information. Two neighbors offered to share their Internet, for free, since we’re only staying temporarily.
• Food. We can feed our stomachs with weekly community dinners.

These benefits are incredibly tangible, I have to admit. So I’m a skeptic no more.

But then I realized how much I laughed during our interview – more than usual. Bronstein joked about all the favors he’s asked of his family, and how his visits home are just a succession of menial chores as payback. He pointed out the shirtless, hairless, oiled-up, bulky male models in underwear ads. (Flint + Tinder’s main product is men’s underwear.)

I’ve been told all my life that I’m too serious, and I always bristle at that accusation. It’s good to be serious, I think. It’s good to want to achieve things, to not waste time. And I have my silly moments, just like Bronstein does. So what does it really mean to be serious?

I think it’s this: to hold strong values. In other words, to have things that you really care about, to respect those things, and to show it with your actions.

Bronstein obviously cares deeply about making quality men’s clothes that are made in America. It’s clear when you talk to him that he’s being genuine; it’s not just marketing-speak. If someone were to morph into a totally different person when the cameras shut off, that would be unserious to me.

This definition can explain a lot. For example, an acquaintance of mine is very serious about fun. He values his time on earth, and he thinks it should be as epic as possible. So I often see him ranting on Facebook that his colleagues are boring: they do the same, dull thing every night. It turns out you can be serious even about fun – about things that aren’t related to work at all.

And being serious doesn’t mean you can’t joke. Another example: Fred is very serious about teaching dance with good technique. But if he surprised his dance class with hilarious but technically skilled choreography for “Gagnam Style,” that would still be serious. If another teacher “jokingly” taught his class bad posture, or backwards steps, that wouldn’t be serious – that person is showing that he doesn’t really care about quality dance.

So it appears if you’re serious, it has to be about something. I’m serious about learning and creating knowledge, which is why I spend my days writing for Tech Cocktail.

What are you serious about?

• Indonesia is one of the less developed countries we visited, so prices were cheap: I preferred the gourmet $10 sushi meals, but Fred got a couple $1 lunches on the street.
• The traffic (*slams head against wall*) extends into the suburbs, nearly all day, so it usually takes at least an hour to get anywhere. It’s honestly the worst traffic I’ve seen and I couldn’t imagine dealing with it day after day.
• Jakarta has no metro and we were strongly advised against the bus (by locals, no less), so we ended up taking taxis everywhere – for a few dollars per ride. 
• The streets of Jakarta are filled with lots of motorbikes – though less than Vietnam – and a variety of taxis (the Blue Bird Group being most reliable). 
• Surprisingly, Indonesia has some beautiful public sculptures – like triumphant Olympic athletes and muscular horses.
• English isn’t too widely spoken.
• Expat life is a luxury, perhaps to make up for all the traffic: the teacher we stayed with had a personal driver and a maid, with incredibly low salaries (by Western standards).

• Contrary to expectation and law, people do jaywalk. Even I was jaywalking by day 2, although I tried to do it in crowds of people.
• The city is super clean – the streets are washed, the windows are shined, and you can’t even bring a drink into the metro (much less sip it).
• The population is over 70 percent Chinese, and I’ve heard they’ve been welcoming immigrants from mainland China lately. But only 63 percent are citizens.
• Singapore is the most expensive country we visited – a mediocre hostel was US$16/night, and I was reduced to grocery-store sushi to curb my cravings.
• Smoking is prohibited in many public areas.
• Arguably the best food (not in my opinion, but alas) can be found in hawker centres, with rows and rows of tiny shops selling cheap dishes – say, $3/plate.
• Around Chinese New Year, downtown comes to life with the Chingay parade – featuring bright, rainbow floats and dancers representing the Chinese, as well as Indians, Malay, and others.

• Islam is the state religion in Malaysia, and over 60 percent of Malaysians are Muslim. And it shows: you’ll see girls in hijabs everywhere, mosques ringing at all hours, and a female-only car on the commuter train. I felt a bit out of place with my revealing (but absolutely necessary) shorts.
• Still, Malaysia is the most multicultural country I’ve visited so far, with lots of Chinese and Indians as well.
• Prices are relatively inexpensive, somewhere between Vietnam and Thailand – a metro ride can be as little as 33 cents, and $3 meals are easy to come by.
• I didn’t experience much of the local food, but I understand Malaysian cuisine is famous for satays and soups. I also tried several fried, fruit-filled concoctions off the street, at the urging of one of the entrepreneurs I met (thanks Daniel!).
• English is widely spoken, making it easy to get around.
• Kuala Lumpur is one of the most green cities I’ve seen in Asia, with trees dotted among the skyscrapers.
• Malaysia, especially the Chinese enclave of Penang, celebrates Chinese New Year with vigor – featuring red lanterns, lion dances in the malls, and mandarin oranges aplenty.
• The local brew of choice is Ipoh white coffee, whose beans are roasted in margarine – making the coffee buttery and tasty (even for an occasional coffee drinker like me).

• Huge portraits of the king are everywhere, framed in gold. I’m told the Thais actually love their king.
• Before movies, they play the national anthem and viewers are expected to stand up (I did, begrudgingly).
• Temples and palaces look different from their Chinese and Korean counterparts, with thin gold points sticking up from the gilded roofs (see below).
• Thai people put their hands together in a prayer-like gesture for greeting others and saying thank you.
• Bangkok is full of malls, possibly because they provide an air-conditioned escape from the tropical temperatures.
• Apparently, Thailand has become much more expensive in the past few years – but prices are still cheaper than, say, Korea or Hong Kong
• Pad thai is indeed ubiquitous, as well as different soups like tom yum.
• On the table at a Thai restaurant, you’ll generally find seasonings representing the 4 tastes: sweet, sour, salty, and spicy.
• The bus system in Bangkok features a dedicated highway lane and a gate/platform system like a metro, making it fast and easy.
• A more quaint way of getting around is the tuk-tuk, an open-air taxi named after the sound it used to make.
• Unfortunately for me, Christmas isn’t celebrated because much of the country is Buddhist, so there were fewer decorations than in Vietnam.

• Vietnamese cuisine boasts a lot of rice and rice noodles, soups like pho, fresh herbs, and lemongrass. One specialty of Hanoi is Bia Hoi, fresh, weak beer you can get for under 50 cents.
• Lots of restaurants are simply a cluster of plastic stools around a food stall. I’m told this is because many residents technically have no permit to live in the city, so they can’t open an official business.
• Vietnamese trains are a bumpy and boisterous experience, with attendants knocking on your sleeping compartment around 7 am to offer breakfast and locals opening the blinds and chattering at a similar hour.
• Copycats abound. We saw things like an HP hotel with the Hewlett-Packard logo (the old one), a Donut’s Donuts with Dunkin’ Donuts colors, and taxis that imitate the “reputable” brands (Vinasun and MaiLinh become Vinason or Vinasum and MeiLinh or MaiLin).
• Vietnam has a higher concentration of tourists than China and the country caters to them, with tons of hawkers, bootlegged Lonely Planets, and Western restaurants featuring burgers and pizza.
• The critters you’ll see the most of in Vietnam include tiny ants, which we found in all our hotels and hostels, and wall- and ceiling-crawling lizards.
• Even the biggest cities, Hanoi and Saigon, don’t seem to have huge downtown areas with modern skyscrapers. (The photo below is Saigon and its most conspicuous skyscraper.)
• Houses are very narrow, with a thin facade facing the road. Our host in Saigon lived in a 4-floor house with one bedroom and ensuite bathroom on each upper floor.
• Vietnam is cheaper than China, with private rooms for as low as $9 and meals for under $5. (Hanoi is cheaper than Saigon.)
• Almost every shop, hotel, and restaurant has a table full of food and other offerings for ancestors, and you’ll find incense sticks stuck on everything from sidewalks to tree trunks.

I started with a green satin dress and dress pants, added two shirts, and finally ordered a forest green winter coat, all for $125. Fred got a three-piece suit, a white dress shirt, and two jackets. We dutifully got measured by a friendly but pushy assistant who kept asking, “You happy?” and we came back the next day to try on our creations.

Unfortunately, we weren’t prepared for all the alterations that would be necessary, from a tailor that came highly recommended (we don’t recommend them). I wanted a low-backed dress with wide-set straps, and they had trouble getting the top to fit snugly – so much trouble that I had to be motorbiked to the workshop so I could try on the dress after three, four, five alterations. The workshop was a small three-room building strewn with fabric scraps and Vietnamese men playing cards on the floor. The aforementioned talkative assistant herded me into the bedroom and quickly pulled clothes on and off me, examining the fit. (Finally, they got it right.)

Fred wasn’t so lucky – apparently (though I can’t tell), his suit still has flaws. Also, the dress shirt isn’t high quality material, and the casual jacket isn’t casual. Plus, he discovered that they were cheating us (and everyone else) with an exchange rate of 22,000 dong for every USD, when it should have been 21,000.

Here are some photos:

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