Tag: Psychology

Clown School Break Day 51: Dumb, Dumb, Duh-dumb Dumb Dumb…  

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In which Our Hero, um, … um … um … 

I’ve been feeling dumber lately. Having trouble finding the right word. Finding myself thinking slower. What’s up with this?

Hypotheses: 

  1. Clowning makes one less intellectual
  2. The work that I’ve been doing has been effective, but not intellectually stimulating
  3. Something else

The first seems likely true. Does clowning make one less intellectual? Yes. Less intelligent? No. However, among the many types of intelligence, it does not contribute to improving one’s smartness. In fact, it teaches one to focus on pleasure and emotion to the detriment of smartness. Sacrifices must be made at the altar of pleasure! 

The second: also likely. I’ve recently been doing a lot of important and procedural, but not intellectual, work. (Among them: buying and renovating an apartment; writing articles that are squarely in my wheelhouse.)

The third: maybe it’s hormonal? The speed of my verbal fluency was stronger on œstrogen. ‘Twas notably stronger. And now, I have much more general go-go-go (whether that’s testosterone itself or simply my familiarity with the hormone, I’m not sure), but less verbal speed. I make fewer moves but each move is stronger.

Another option for the third: a life transition that requires adjustment. Selling my previous home. Buying a new one. Moving internationally. Building a relationship. All of these can wear you down. 

A final option for the third: lack of exercise. Since I broke my foot I have been a complete lazypants. The brain thrives on exercise. Perhaps it will return when the activity returns. This one seems very likely to be influential :!D

It’s an odd experience to feel myself being duller than I previously was. And the people around me aren’t noticing… or at least aren’t noticing enough to say anything.

Then again, would they notice? And if noticed, would they say? 👀

Clown School Break Day 50: Seeing Ahead

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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 48: On Culture & Correctness

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In which… “something, something, cultural relativism. But definitely only a weak version of it.” 

A while ago I wanted to play trivia at home with friends. I had stumbled upon a British trivia show that inspired this notion. We played together (i.e. watched the show while guessing along). The problem: we didn’t know the British popular culture.

I then went on a hunt for equivalent shows that we Americans might be able to enjoy. Ultimately, I arrived at… Jeopardy.

That’s right: I hunted around through around a dozen shows and ended up at the quintessential American trivia show.

Why?

Is the format familiar to me?

Is it coherent within my culture?

Does it have form that fits my expectations, simply because I was raised on it?

For a while now, I have been of the opinion that most human preferences are not real but learned. Your influential parent enjoys eating spicy food → you learn to enjoy spicy food. A leader of your country speaks with a lisp → people are still speaking with a lisp centuries later.

It really removes many beliefs about the meaning of “good”, doesn’t it?

Still, some things are clearly worse than others. 

I’m reminded of a friend who concluded (after much analysis) that “good” simply means safe and “bad” means dangerous. (Both in roundabout ways.) 

How do you branch out? How do you discover other good things? And when is it okay to go back to what you grew up with?

Tonight, my partner and I made enchilada casserole. She grew up eating it with green sauce and was hesitant to make it red. We ended up making two: one red, one green. It was a fun game to compare: the safety of the known alongside the adventure of the new. The verdict? Red won.

It’s fun to play games where even if you lose you win. 

I’ll take play for 300, please, Alex!

Clown School Break Day 47: On Heavy Masks

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In which Our Hero tires. 

Today I’m experiencing the wear of the mask. 

It’s been on for days. 

I’ve been socializing hard. On. Available. Pleasant. 

I’m tired of it.

(The foot-healing and low-on-salt doesn’t help.)

I had a call scheduled with someone hiring for a job I’m perfect for.

He scheduled it.

He forgot.

That causes sadness. 

–

I don’t want to socialize. 

Not because of who’s around me—

because I’m tired of doing. 

I’ve been trying too hard.

Today’s lesson might simply be: 

stop performing.

Now it’s time to conk. 

Clown School Break Day 46: Trivia ain’t Trivial 

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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 43: Patina (Guestpost)

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In which Our Hero shares a guest post with a beautiful finish. 

My partner wrote this personal essay yesterday. She insists it’s about countertops. I sense a clown-like metaphor. 

–

I’ve been learning about kitchen counters. I’m redoing the kitchen in the home I plan to raise my kids in. 

I enjoy cooking. I grew up with a butcher block kitchen island. The wood is soft, warm, and inviting. I haven’t gotten that feeling from granite; tile’s got awful groutlines to clean, and fake stone looks fake. The wood does require some babying. If you place a hot pan on it, it might scorch. It’s also liable to stain and isn’t really germ-safe if you don’t maintain it – bacteria from meat can multiply in the wood if it’s not sealed well.

Soapstone feels more idiot proof. The stone is soft, warm, and inviting. Chemistry labs use it since you can actually light it on fire with no ill effects. I’ve done it – accidentally. It doesn’t stain or etch and is too solid for germs to permeate. It does, however, scratch and dent. I was worried this would stress me out.

People call this wear a “patina.” Think of the way a leather wallet ages. There’s a darkening around the spot you keep your cards. There are a few lighter scratches from altercations with your keys.

The patina is only visual. It doesn’t affect the functionality.

I think unintentional staining of a butcher block countertop could be considered a patina, but it indicates that the surface isn’t sealed properly and may invite germs. That’s indicative of functionality. But, honestly, I don’t put raw meat straight on the counter anyway.

I’ve been trying to figure out which things matter and which don’t. Before you try to hyperoptimize a process, be sure you’re actually optimizing for the thing you care about and not a correlate. Most things might actually be patina.

I remember making a crepe cake with my sister a decade ago – layers of crepes and whipped cream. She wasn’t layering the cream on evenly, so the cake wasn’t going to be even. I got mad at her for messing it up. Honestly, no one was going to care that the cake wasn’t perfectly level. People enjoyed it just the same.

My partner has started cooking with me. I love it. It’s a great way to spend time together – a collaborative craft that ends with something tasty – if I don’t hold too tightly to perfection. He doesn’t chop the carrots to all exactly the same size. The stew’s still been delectable; the chopping: half the duration of doing it alone; the company: impeccable.

Some parts don’t matter. Some parts do.

When we made carbonara, he was afraid of the bacon grease. I told him the splatters would sting, but were unlikely to create a large enough burn that would matter. It might hurt, but you won’t notice the next day. I expressed appropriate caution and reverence for handling the pasta pot full of burning water: that could fuck up the rest of your life.

I’m trying to get better at separating functionality from patina. The parts that matter from the parts that don’t.

I got my braces off recently. They gave me an invisalign retainers. I take them out when I eat. For a while I wouldn’t put them back in until after I brushed my teeth. I was great about this for three days, then lazy and would just not put them back in. I didn’t want to get tartar on them. I wore them less. I could see that my bottom teeth were shifting. Keeping my teeth in place is more important than keeping my invisalign clean. I’m now wearing them more.

My one-year-old niece has gotten into stickers. It’s adorable to watch her pick them out, peel them off, and choose who to give them to. I’ve got a few favorites on my phone case. They remind me of her and make me smile. I forgot one on a shirt recently. Some combination of the washer and dryer have embedded the adhesive to the shirt. Now it permanently reminds me of her.

I’m learning to enjoy the patina. 

I’m interested in learning to visibly mend clothing. To make the holes and mistakes into something fun and creative. To make the whole piece beautiful.

I’d like my kids to ding up the counter as we learn to cook together. To make a patina of memories. I want them to make mistakes. Scratch the counters. Learn and improve.

If we need to sell the place, we can always sand down the counters so the new owners can start over. No permanent damage. No limitations in functionality. Patina.

Clown School Break Day 41: Grocery Store Juggling

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In which our Hero keeps balls in the air. 

Grocery stores are for whimsy.

Listen:

At the grocery store to purchase oranges for non-alcoholic New Year’s mimosas, I tossed oranges toward my partner so she could catch them in the plastic bag. A simple game; a fun game; a game that hurts no one.

My partner caught the first one.

A store employee approached us.

My partner caught the second one.

The employee stood beside us, continuing to watch.

My partner missed the third one. (I shorted the toss.) She retrieved the orange and placed it in the bag.

“Could I ask you to do something?” the clerk said.

“Sure,” I replied, expecting him to tell us to stop. I had expected him to tell us to stop since the moment I saw him walking over.

“I had cataract surgery recently. Could you toss me one of those oranges? I want to see if I can catch it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Tell me when.”

“Now’s good.”

I tossed the orange. He caught it. His face released sunlight it had been holding back for years.

“I used to juggle three balls,” he said. “Not well, but I could keep ‘em in the air. Then cataracts got to me. It’s good to be back.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I didn’t want to ask a friend to toss me something. That would be too intimate. So I figured I’d ask a stranger.”

“Glad I could help.”

My partner and I returned to our toss-and-catch with the oranges. We purchased six pounds of oranges and drove home.

Too often, we stop playing out of fear that someone will tell us to stop, when all they wanted was to play along.

Clown School Break Day 40: New Year’s Eve

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In which Our Hero ends one thing and starts another

I used to celebrate New Year’s. I still do, but I used to, too.

I used to celebrate with friends and video games and shenanigans and chicanery. But the host of that party died a few years ago. And I don’t live in that city anymore.

Now, I celebrate with non-alcoholic cocktails and card games with friends.

I jumped into the new year — off a couch at 11:59:59 and onto the floor at 12:00:00 — just like I did as a kid.

Ritual matters. Arbitrary ritual matters. It’s also arbitrary. It still matters.

Celebrating the end of one thing and the beginning of something new. Doing so at some approximately-reasonable interval. 

I often think about the idea that somewhere someone is having the best day of their life. That applies even more to years. Somewhere, many someones just concluded the best year of their life. And many other someones are entering the best year of theirs.

The same is also true of the worst years.

There’s no point to this musing, but it makes me feel more centered. More relaxed. Less grabbing or pushing.

It makes the days more enjoyable. And that’s perhaps the whole point. 

🤡

Clown School Break Day 39: Likeability

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In which Our Hero, like, likes likability?

I was speaking earlier today with a friend who is a very polarizing figure. I am also a polarizing figure, but much less than him. He is often right, but also often disliked. The sort of person who is correct about the mismanaging of funds in an organization, but when he raises this to general public awareness, ends up somehow getting kicked out of the organization. 

This friend also has described me as “a bit of a people-pleaser”. (Which is amusing because most people would not describe me that way.) 

Clowning is about being liked. Clowns are lowest common denominator performers. They find pleasure and share pleasure in a mass-market, pre-language, pre-thought way. 

Clowns are excellent at a specific veneer. Not a substance, but a manner. Pleasure, joy: these are good things. But they’re not everything. Clowns (and actors in general) are emotional salespeople. Models are to fashion as clowns are to pleasure as actors are to emotions. 

I respect clowns and actors (and I also respect salespeople). But being a clown or an actor is completely unrelated (and sometimes antithetical) to many other virtues. For example, clowns are anti-intellectual. Clever jokes – at least at this school – are undesired. 

Perhaps pleasure is just the first step. Acting/performing might begin with finding your pleasure and sharing your pleasure with the audience, but it’s not the end. The end includes having a message or somesuch. 

I think this particular school is teaching a valuable skill. I also think that the implementation of it in its purest form – through clowning or through acting – doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather have valuable things to share, not just share them well.

Clown School Break Day 38: An Enjoyable Scene

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In which Our Hero enjoys his people

It’s nice to be in community. I’m visiting some friends in the Northwest. I’ve lived with them for a month or two each of the past two years. If I could tolerate their city, I might live here. We cook, play games, banter. I’d enjoy co-parenting with them.

I’d like the same in New York. I hunch I can do so. I prefer New York. Better weather (Portland seems to almost always be cold and wet), more activity, greater life. I like the vibrancy and culture.

—

I exercised today for the first time in four weeks. Stationary bike. 30mins. Watched an episode of The Bear. My friends and family recommended this show to me back when it came out. Sometimes I’m reticent at the outset but then end up loving it. I wish I would accept it sooner. (But also I just don’t watch much tv / movies.)

—

I spent dinner with eight friends. I like these people. It’s very nice. I’d like more.

We talked about AI and clown school. I think clowning is a skill AI won’t replace. At least the very human act of finding pleasure and sharing it. 

But people have already invented mind- and mood-affecting drugs. What’s the real difference?