Clown School Break Day 53: The Honking Subsides

In which Our Hero clowns down. 

“I think you’re done with this theme. I think sometimes you have good things to say about games and clowns. But I think you’re too forced into a narrow hole.” –My partner, regarding my blog. 

It’s nice to have people tell you things you already suspected but hadn’t fully admitted to yourself. 

I’m not at clown school and haven’t been at clown school for 53 days. 

I’m not going to the next available clown course. 

My time and mind and attention are focused elsewhere. 

This is the state of the world of the JuJu. 

So what? 

I think I open up the subject matter of the blog. That sounds funny. 

Or, as my partner likes to say, “Julian plans and Julian laughs.” 

🤡

———-

For those of you curious, here was my daily blog before she made that comment: 

Is Jumanji a game? 

IN THE YES CATEGORY: 

  1. There are players 
  2. Players take turns
  3. On their turn, a player rolls dice and moves pieces
  4. Players act in pursuit of winning. 

IN THE NO CATEGORY: 

  1. It is NOT fun
  2. It is NOT separated from the rest of the world. (In fact, quite the opposite: elements come from the game to attack you in the world itself)
  3. The most crucial parts of the game are not clear from the rules 

Conclusion: 

  • Jumanji is a 1995 film starring Robin Williams. 

Clown School Break Day 50: Seeing Ahead

In which chair-sitting is frog-boiling. 

A coworker once taught our company how to sit in a chair. The problem: humans are very adaptable. So when we sit in a chair, we adjust our bodies to fit the physical circumstance. This is bad. We should instead adjust our circumstances to fit our bodies. (The desk doesn’t care if it’s adjusted to be higher or lower. Our bodies do prefer we don’t slump.) 

The rules of the game change your play. That sounds obvious, but its effects often go unrecognized. 

Take a simple rule – like the football rule that the clock stops when a player runs out of bounds – and imagine the changes to the entire game that could result. Obviously the end of the game is faster: more hurry-up plays, less pre-defined set-ups.

Now consider how different technology was when this rule of this game was established – at some point before 1909 (citation: pg 214 here). Was this rule intended to play out the way it is? No – no way – not really – it can’t be. But it shapes how today’s entire game is played. 

We often accept the slight changes in our environment, in the rules that govern our games. But adjusting our behavior to maximize our desired outcomes is not easy. Do you think second-order effects (Since A happened, B will happen) are hard to predict? Third-order effects (A, therefore B, therefore C) are even harder!

Eg: If we changed the clock-stop rule, would Quarterbacks make more in-the-moment decisions? Become more skilled at rapid decision-making? Would we select for quarterbacks who are more tacticians and less strategists? Would that change lead to the rest of the team being more strategic (to fill the gap) or less (because their leader is less strategic)? Is this even the right pathway to follow, or would quarterbacks actually become more strategic because they would plan their whole series of plays ahead of time for those low-on-time situations? Would timeouts become so incredibly valuable in the endgame that they’d never be used otherwise? How would that impact how strategic a quarterback needs to be?

It’s really, really hard to tell. Those who can see the second-order effect in a very complicated situation are often highly-prized experts.

A chess grandmaster can sometimes see 10+ moves ahead. On the other hand, one former chess world champion is commonly crediting as saying, “I see only one move ahead, but it is always the correct one.” 

Which would you rather do? And in what areas? 

–(Oh, and GO BEARS!!!)

Clown School Break Day 49: Following the (a)Muse(ment)

In which Our Hero says yes

I emailed clown school to tell them that I will not be joining for Melodrama. Melodrama starts in just over 2 weeks. I will be somewhat in New York and somewhat in France. I could join. My foot will be near-healed. But I don’t want to go. Why?

  1. I’m buying an apartment. I’m currently in the final stretch. My attention is elsewhere. This is a better use of my time.
  2. I’m just not excited about it. I’m still very interested in the Bouffon class. Perhaps I will join for that in February.
  3. The most important reason: I’m not super-uber-jazzed about it. I have other professional work I’m currently doing. And if the specific course is not super-uber-appealing, I don’t need to take a slot from someone else / spend the time & money.

Also, I made $550 playing poker today. Woohoo!

[Also, stay tuned.]

Clown School Break Day 46: Trivia ain’t Trivial 

In which Our Hero leads a team to victory! 

My team won at trivia. Thirty percent of trivia is assembling the right team. Thirty percent of trivia is knowing the right answers. Thirty percent of trivia is accurately knowing your knowledge. And the last thirty percent is knowing how to give 120%. 

In the team-assembling category, my team excels at movies, science, games, literature, and mythology. We are weak at sports. This week, there was only one sports question rather than an entire sports section. That’s lucky.  

In knowing the right answers, we performed strong. We missed only 6 of the 22 questions. While that might sound like a lot (it’s almost a third!), our big advantage is in the next point… 

We know what we know. When one of my teammates says “I know this one”, we bet hard. Today’s trivia involves a point-wagering system: for each round of three questions, you assign one a small number of points, one a medium number, and one a large number. You submit your point wager when you submit the question, before you know what all the questions in the round are. So a team that gets only one third of the answers right can equal a team that gets two thirds of the answers right, so long as the first team assigns points correctly and the second does not. 

And then there’s knowing how to give 120%. When we know the answer is “Mississippi mud [something]” and my team is waffling between Mississippi mudslide and Mississippi mud pie, Your Humble Narrator (in his acting role as Team Captain) submits the answer as “Mississippi mud (pie)”. Ergo, when the answer is revealed to be Mississippi mud *cake*, Our Hero’s team receives the point. (Deservedly? That’s not mine to judge; I’m just here to get points.) This gamesmanship also manifested in Your Hero’s tracking of the points (so as to note that we were shorted 2 points in the theme round, and then get those reinstated). 

And I guess one final part: uniting people to a purpose. Trivia is not important. We’re fighting for a $30 giftcard when our table is spending twice that. This doesn’t matter. 

But it’s fun to try. 

Clown School Break Day 45: What is Fun? 

What is fun? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more

Yesterday night I played a bit of poker, then stopped. 

I wasn’t obviously playing poorly. 

I just wasn’t enjoying it. 

What is fun? 

Why is poker more fun when you’re winning? 

Part is the monetary aspect: it’s not enjoyable to lose money. And while the monetary aspect in this case is not large enough to be life-affecting, it’s still relevant to the pleasure. 

Poker is an intellectual exercise that I enjoy attempting to do well. It’s fun circumstance in which I strive to do something properly. That’s part of the joy that I get from sharing my hands with a professional poker playing friend: the interestingness of improving. 

It’s also a naturally exhilarating game. You can play well – perfectly, even – and still lose. 

Is fun just the distraction from suffering? That’s the etymology of at least one french word and one spanish word for fun. 

If so, are the times when I stop enjoying poker the times when it becomes too serious? When I’m taking it with too much heaviness? (Alternate hypotheses: my suffering outside of poker is too great for the distraction to work, or I’m not suffering enough outside of poker so the distraction doesn’t give me additional pleasure.) 

I think it’s closer to: I’m feeling fear. I don’t enjoy poker when I’m feeling a lot of fear. When the fear prevents me from playing well, I stop enjoying the poker. I clam up and that’s no good. 

Solutions: 

  1. Don’t play poker games where the stakes cause me to feel fear. 
  2. When you feel fear, notice it’s fear. Then put it in its place and make the right decision.

Amusingly enough, when I wrote that my today’s pokerplaying went from playing my B game to my A game. That’s nice! 😀 

Clown School Break Day 42: Making Spades for Poker Pros(pectors)

In which Our Hero stumbles upon something interesting… 

My partner wants to improve at poker. She 1) has the sort of mind that could be very good at the game, and 2) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she makes the right decision but the outcome turns out bad. [She also 3) wants to improve her comfort in situations where she made the wrong decision and the outcome comes out bad.] 

We watched some theory videos together today. It was very fun. I enjoyed it. I’m excited for more! 

My partner asks whether there exist little poker drills, à la “hit the ball at this bucket” in tennis, so you can have fun while learning the skill. I said I didn’t know any. 

We therefore invented a way to teach a particular, very-important poker skill in a manner that’s actually fun. Perhaps we will expand this, refine it, and share it with others! 

… and I built an app for it! More info to come… 🙂 

Clown School Break Day 36: Empty Spaces

In which emptiness permeates Our Hero. 

Today I drove in silence. My partner in the passenger seat, surrounded by calm empty space. 

Usually I drive with music or a podcast. This drive was 3.5 hours. 

For the first two hours, just being. 

Once in a while adding a comment. Saying something. Mostly quiet. 

It was nice. 

— 

It reminded me of some time spent on stage. The increased comfort that comes from increased experience. The greater ease that comes from an acceptance of emptiness. 

I’m reminded of the idea variously attributed to Miles Davis and other musical greats: playing the spaces between the notes. 

It’s pleasant to play the spaces between the notes. 

It’s even more enjoyable to let the spaces between the notes play. 

And then

To level up

To the notes themselves playing 

And you simply helping

😌 

Clown School Break Day 35: The New Player 

In which a new teammate joins Our Hero. 

What is it like to add a new player to an established team? 

Today we added a new player to our 3-person cooperative poker game. 

Upon adding this fourth person, we reverted back to the basic version of the game as it was a fitting level for them. 

Here’s what the experience was like for me: 

  1. Less psychologically engaging. The game was simpler so the intensity was lower. 
  2. More meta-play. I asked more questions, engaged in more conversation, made more jokes. We all did. The game itself was less of the game. We added other games to fill the empty space. 
  3. It was fun for a different reason. The relationship is one I care about. So I prioritized connection and play with this new player. The other players did too. We all wanted them to have a good time. So we left having enjoyed ourselves, but not as much due to the game itself as we had previously. Instead, it was more due to compersion

Our new player stepped away. We returned to our triumvirate crew. We took one round to re-acclimate and then clicked back into it. 

Perhaps much of socialization is knowing what game you’re playing at any given time and effectively switching between them. If you have more capacity, add another game. If you’re overwhelmed, let go more. If you’re welcoming a wobbly player you care about, play with them more (outside of the main game itself). And always know which game is most important. 

Clown School Break Day 34: Invention via Iteration 

In which Our Hero builds upon himself. 

I created a new game today. 

We started with the game I described two days ago. 

We played with three people. It wasn’t as good as with 4 or 5 people. Then we expanded so we each received two hands instead of one hand, for a total of 6 two-card hands. 

Then we gave ourselves 3 cards per hand instead of two. 

Then we gave ourselves 6 cards instead of two sets of three, which we subdivided into our own three-card hands. 

What did I learn? 

  1. Follow the fun. When it’s not fun, find new fun. 
  2. Don’t push. If it’s fun enough, stick with it. 
  3. I like chaos. Compared to my card game compatriots, I enjoyed the more intricate game. (Part of that may be my familiarity with poker — i.e. this end version was farther at the end of my comfort zone while the basic game had become trivial). 

We spent 5 hours today playing that game. Playing variations. Ending at the more intricate one. 

Also this: 

  • To get to the end we had to go though the steps. Sometimes you have to take people through the basics, not start at the end if the end is too complicated. 

Building blocks. Leveling up. 

And one more thought: 

  • In the last hand, I correctly called all three cards in two of my compatriots’ hands. One of my friends half-jokingly called me “the oracle”. 

Perhaps what other people find chaotic is just the space I exist in. Sometimes what’s trivial to you is complex to me. (My partner laughs when I refer to putting frozen food on a plate and microwaving it as “cooking”.) 

This reminds me of one of the lessons from clown school: everyone has their own challenges. What’s trivial for me may be hard for you. Jesus would say “judge not lest ye be judged”. (And after all, today is the day for celebrating his birthday.) 

I’m glad to have seen my classmates trudge through their own challenges. And I’m glad to have built up the self-comfort prior not to judge them during the process. That would be a real dick move. 

🤡 

Clown School Break Day 30: Cooperative Games

In which Our Hero collaborates. 

My family has recently taken to playing cooperative games. Growing up, we played mainly competitive games. Sometimes team games, but more often individual competitive games.

My partner recently posed the question: What if a person grew up playing mainly cooperative games?

An interesting question.

For one, most sports are competitive. (Sure, some are team-based, but those are still generally against other people rather than a challenge against nature or circumstance.)

For two, most contrived games (as distinct from natural games like science or business) are competitive.

For three, most good contrived games are competitive. Taking board games as a field I know quite well: only over the last ~20 years have cooperative board games taken off, and still they are much less popular and less created than competitive ones.

Bad games are generally not worth playing. They’re unfun and teach poor / useless skills.

Good games are, well, good.

I learned to count and perform basic mental math through the card game cribbage. I’m not aware of a cooperative equivalent that’s as engaging and strategic (and building one’s strategic muscle is worthwhile in itself).

Cooperative games teach communication, team coordination, collective strategy, leading and following, ebbs and flows.

I used to ghostwrite for the founder of the video streaming platform Twitch. He and his brother both sold companies for ~$1B, and they credit their parents’ chore system with teaching them to collaborate and strategize. The chores had to be completed, but the how and the who were up to the children’s choices. (For more, search the word “chore” in this article or this article.)

Collaborative games are excellent. And in the grand scheme of things, many competitive games are really about collaboration on the meta level anyway. Tennis is about (i.e. funded by) encouraging people to play tennis, which is generally good for physical health. Individual competitive sports like running are about setting a new record, thereby pushing human physical ability to new heights.

Perhaps it’s true: Even when we’re competing, we’re collaborating.