dragonbook

11 extraordinarily high degree of self-discipline, the ability to force themselves to do what was necessary to reach their goals. But you know what? Despite all they achieved, and despite all they had, few of my Stanford friends were happy. And my professors, despite all their abilities, weren't happy either. Why? Because even when you make the right choices, when you avoid drugs and alcohol, pay attention to your studies, choose a major that leads to a good job, there's still a kind of emptiness: so what? So what if you earn as much money as Bill Gates? So what if you can win elections like Bill Clinton? So what if you star in a comic strip like Bill the Cat? I can almost guarantee that, at least during part of your college experience, you'll feel an emptiness in the pit of your stomach. And you'll think it's homesickness, which, in part, it may be. But it will also be something more: a deep uncertainty about the future and what you should do with your life. When you face that emptiness, none of your professors will have answers for you. And none of your friends will have answers for you. And you won't be able to find answers of your own. And then... Well, believe it or not, this emptiness might be the best thing that ever happened to you-- if you deal with it in the right way. Most students don't. Some turn to drugs, some to alcohol. Some just give up and go home. So what's the right way of dealing with that emptiness? When my oldest son left for college more than two decades ago, I spent weeks and weeks thinking about exactly what advice to give him. Unfortunately, if I told you what I told him, I'd get into trouble. You see, what I told him is that the most important thing he could do to adjust to college (or to anything else) was to turn to God with his whole heart. I told him that when that