Before my first summer vacation at college，my roommate Ted asked to me to work with him on his father's farm in Argentina．The idea of spending two months in Argentine was exciting．Then I began having second thoughts．I had never been far from New England，and I had been homesick my first few weeks at college．What would it be like in a strange country？What about the language？The more I thought about it，the more the idea worried me．
In the end I turned down the invitation．As soon as Ted asked somebody else to go，I began kicking myself．I had turned down something I wanted to do because I was scared，and had ended up feeling depressed．That unhappy summer taught me a valuable lesson out of which I developed a rule for myself：do what makes you anxious； don't do what makes you depressed．
At the end of my senior year，I began to think about becoming a writer．But my professor was urging me to aim at teaching．I hesitated．The idea of trying to live by writing was a lot scarier than spending a summer in Argentina．Back and forth I went，making my decision，unmaking it．Suddenly I realized that every time I gave up the idea of writing，that downhearted feeling went through me．
Giving up on what I really wanted to do depressed me．Right then I learned another lesson．To avoid that kind of depression meant having to bear a certain amount of worry and concern．
When I first began writing articles，I was frequently required to interview big names．Before each interview I would get butterflies in the stomach and my hands would shake．One person I particularly admired was the great composer Duke Ellington．On the stage and on television，he seemed the very model of confidence．Then I learned Ellington still got stage fright．If the highly honored Ellington，who had appeared on the bandstand some 10，000times over 30years，had anxiety attacks，who was I to think I could avoid them？I went on doing those frightening interviews．Then I realized to my astonishment that I w