“I didn’t know you played the drums.”
“I used to but not anymore.”
“What kind of music do you play?”
“I played mostly jazz and experimental stuff.”
“Wow, jazz drumming is really hard, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know how to make sense of that question. It’s like anything else- whether it’s easy or difficult depends on how deep you go into it, I guess.”
“So why did you quit?”
“I got tired of starving to death a found a real job.”
“Well I play guitar in a blues band with some friends, and we perform at a bar downtown on open mic night about once a month or so. We’re actually looking for a drummer right now. We would love to have you play with us!”
“No, thanks.”
“Are you sure? We’re not very good but it’s a lot of fun!”
“I spent around eight hours a day for something like ten years practicing and hauling my drums around to do something that nobody will pay you for because everyone thinks it’s fun. In my experience if you’re having fun, it’s because you don’t know that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, well we just practice on Sundays.”
“Anyway, I haven’t played in like three or four years now.”
“Oh wow, why not?”
“There’s no reason for me to play. I can just listen to Milford Graves or Jo Jones or Alla Rakha, et cetera.”
“But don’t you miss playing?”
“No.”
“Well, I hope you get back into it someday.”
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Faith and Hope
In medicine, there is a well-established phenomenon known as “the placebo effect.” The health of a person suffering from almost any ailment, including cancers and psychoses, can be measurably improved 33% of the time and even healed completely merely by convincing a patient that they are being cured. This demonstrates the very real and potent effectiveness of both faith and hope. Reinforcing an optimistic belief increases its intensity, which will actually increase its effectiveness. Increasing its effectiveness in turn increases its intensity even more! Simply believing something will happen to you will heavily increase the odds that it actually will happen to you, and believing it more will make it more likely to happen. Similarly, hoping for something to happen will inspire you to bring it about, in what is called a “self-fulfilling prophecy.” Inspirational speakers make billions of dollars every year exploiting these realities by telling audiences about these realities.
Thinking something is true will make it appear true from your perspective. This is known as bias. Our senses are designed predicatively, so that we often actually see, hear, taste, etc. what we believe we are seeing, hearing, tasting, etc. This is why reliable experiments can only be done using “blind” testing and control groups. This is why it is so difficult for any human justice system to be impartial. Our lives are defined by our prejudices. What we experience today affects how we experience tomorrow.
Faith has its limits. Believing in something doesn’t make it objectively true. One’s convictions only affect and are affected by one’s own (mental and physical) realities and experiences. Another’s belief that I will be healed, for example, only affects my health insofar as they are able to convince me that their opinion has validity.
The previous sentence will have acted as a red flag to many. The power of faith is so profound, the object of that faith will be adhered to no matter how absurd it is. I am of the minority that doesn’t believe in supernatural phenomena. Harry Houdini spent the latter part of his life offering a huge reward to anyone who could perform a supernatural act, to no avail. Things perceived by us as miracles are occurrences with likelihoods which can be calculated by laws of probability. It is not only possible but inevitable that eventually someone will, for example, win the lottery. Your chances of doing so will remain the same whether you are a psychic, a prophet or an atheist. People have a lot of misconceptions regarding odds. Did you know, for example, the 5 year survival rate for prostate cancer is 98%? That means 98 of every 100 people who had gotten prostate cancer in the past five years are blathering on about how it’s a miracle they’re still alive.
A Muslim friend recently claimed we don’t believe in magic in America because the government keeps its powers hidden. He didn’t provide any evidence to support this claim, and I find it a bit ridiculous. If magic existed, our government would be stockpiling voodoo dolls instead of nuclear arms. I defy anybody who believes in miracles to actually perform one.
Several blind tests have demonstrated remote prayer to have no effect whatsoever. While believers will insist this is incorrect, you won’t see any of them performing objective experiments on their own. The truth is they don’t want to know the truth. Humans are generally more comfortable believing what they want to hear than going to the trouble of researching claims for authenticity. This is in part because the powers of faith and hope are not based at all on what is believed or hoped in, but instead on how strongly any belief or hope is held. The major gripe I have with religion is that instead of encouraging others to have faith and hope, they insist others have faith in hope in the same things they have faith and hope in.
Thinking something is true will make it appear true from your perspective. This is known as bias. Our senses are designed predicatively, so that we often actually see, hear, taste, etc. what we believe we are seeing, hearing, tasting, etc. This is why reliable experiments can only be done using “blind” testing and control groups. This is why it is so difficult for any human justice system to be impartial. Our lives are defined by our prejudices. What we experience today affects how we experience tomorrow.
Faith has its limits. Believing in something doesn’t make it objectively true. One’s convictions only affect and are affected by one’s own (mental and physical) realities and experiences. Another’s belief that I will be healed, for example, only affects my health insofar as they are able to convince me that their opinion has validity.
The previous sentence will have acted as a red flag to many. The power of faith is so profound, the object of that faith will be adhered to no matter how absurd it is. I am of the minority that doesn’t believe in supernatural phenomena. Harry Houdini spent the latter part of his life offering a huge reward to anyone who could perform a supernatural act, to no avail. Things perceived by us as miracles are occurrences with likelihoods which can be calculated by laws of probability. It is not only possible but inevitable that eventually someone will, for example, win the lottery. Your chances of doing so will remain the same whether you are a psychic, a prophet or an atheist. People have a lot of misconceptions regarding odds. Did you know, for example, the 5 year survival rate for prostate cancer is 98%? That means 98 of every 100 people who had gotten prostate cancer in the past five years are blathering on about how it’s a miracle they’re still alive.
A Muslim friend recently claimed we don’t believe in magic in America because the government keeps its powers hidden. He didn’t provide any evidence to support this claim, and I find it a bit ridiculous. If magic existed, our government would be stockpiling voodoo dolls instead of nuclear arms. I defy anybody who believes in miracles to actually perform one.
Several blind tests have demonstrated remote prayer to have no effect whatsoever. While believers will insist this is incorrect, you won’t see any of them performing objective experiments on their own. The truth is they don’t want to know the truth. Humans are generally more comfortable believing what they want to hear than going to the trouble of researching claims for authenticity. This is in part because the powers of faith and hope are not based at all on what is believed or hoped in, but instead on how strongly any belief or hope is held. The major gripe I have with religion is that instead of encouraging others to have faith and hope, they insist others have faith in hope in the same things they have faith and hope in.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Gauche
I tend to demonstrate a somewhat awkward social presence. I am inelegant in both posture and speech, which those who don’t know me are prone to confuse with insecurity, weakness or buffoonery. I realize I’m clumsy, but I also consider myself adroit; two adjectives generally considered antonyms. I am proficient at solving technical issues and making shrewd observations, but can neither dance nor orate.
While discussing my gaucheness with a friend the other day, she remarked that one conspicuous aspect of my personality was a penchant for unexpectedly abrupt responses. She accredited this to my preference for erring on the side of humility, which was perhaps a bit too charitable. The truth is; I tend to think in a rather elusive, fragmented way. My mind traces broad connections between a plethora of memories while I strive to maintain a consistent, encompassing point of view. My inclination for avoiding assumptions while exhausting possibilities predisposes me toward exploring alternatives rather than providing answers.
In conversation, it can be difficult for me to know where to begin or forecast where I’m going. When asked how my day is going, for example, my mind races through a hundred different ways my day has gone and in what ways that day’s occurrences can be qualitatively interpreted. My contemplative nature compels me to burst into a diatribe on everything in a desperate attempt at grasping its essence. Usually before doing so, it occurs to me the questioner doesn’t actually care, so after a pregnant pause I reply, “Fine.”
I’m not very good at conducting a linear conversation limited and focused upon a single topic. At the same time, I prefer not to belabor things with unnecessary or unwanted tangents. I don’t easily accept declarations, overlook perspectives or dismiss improbabilities. Sometimes trying to coherently get my point across is akin to attempting long division in my head. I’m not very adept at explaining and elaborating on a subject without being able to write it down and edit it first.
The way I write echoes the way I process information. I usually begin with a rambling rant which is immediately followed up with another tangent aimed in a completely different direction. Then I jot down a list of key words and phrases that seem useful in drawing connections between and expounding upon the rants. After that, I simply work by turning the idea fragments into sentences or paragraphs and fitting them into the composition. As new thought fragments occur, I continue to compile them under the composition. I consider the essay finished when there are either no notes on the bottom of the page or I have no idea how to fit them in.
About a half hour into this essay, which had a working title of “Confidence,” it occurred to me to compare my social presence to my writing style. After adding, “How I write this blog…,” I copied and pasted what I’d written up to that point and moved it to the bottom of the document, where it sat for several days. Here it is:
"I tend to demonstrate a somewhsat awkward social presence. I am inelegant in both posture and speech, which others are prone to confuse with insecurity, weakness or buffoonery. While I realize I’m clumsy, I also consider myself adroit, two adjectives generally considered to be antonyms.
While discussing my gaucheness with a friend the other day, she observed the perplexing thing about me is that my responses can be unexpectedly abrupt.
Another quality I possess is abruptness. I don’t like to elaborate or explain without being able to write it down and edit it first.
I abhor boasting. Whenever anybody irrelevantly elucidates their fame or success, my gag reflex is triggered.
Matter-of-factness (don’t tend to elaborate exaggerate or.)
The more I elaborate, the greater my chances become of pissing people off.
How I write this blog: words and sentence fragments, put in order, complete the sentences.
Private: don’t like to allow others to watch me work. Will tend to accomplish feats very fast in hopes they won’t be witnessed.
Flaw: sometimes try to avoid input. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the opinions of others, it’s just that I sometimes find them distracting."
While the way my mind processes information is a key factor in the way I communicate, my interests and biases are of equal significance. I’m curious to discover what earth creatures are capable of discovering, discerning and creating. Because I spend so much time conducting research instead of simply resigning myself to an opinion, I expect the same of others. I’m not at all interested in uninformed opinions. My thirst for human potential influences me to refrain from idle conversation, ego-stroking or living in the past. I desire to avoid clichés and whittle talk down to educated opinions and observations. I’m easily irritated by nervous chatter. I love finding those rare people who are willing to join me in finding ways of linking and comparing random subject matter.
One of the most bizarre things about American culture is that we are actually proud to be ignorant, and ridicule those who aren’t by calling them elitists and snobs. It seems most people seem completely disinterested in learning anything beyond their own nose, content either with believing their problems are the biggest problems in the world or that they’ve stumbled upon some simple solution to all the world’s problems. I can’t stand those who like to hear themselves talk- like that Lake Wobegon guy. I’ve witnessed entire evenings during which not a single necessary word was uttered. My theory is people can’t stand silence because it allows for contemplation. When I was younger, I found it confusing that adults didn’t seem to know very much. Now I’ve realized most people never learned how to think. We spend our lives being told how to behave and what to do by a bunch of people who spent their lives being told how to behave and what to do. I can’t stand this bandwagon mentality. Perhaps that is why I sometimes go out of my way to resist being agreeable. Success, popularity and convention are all reasons to be suspicious.
I abhor boasting as much as ignorance. I find it pointless and unnecessary. There is less value in what others have done than in how they’ve conducted themselves as they did it. Whenever anybody elucidates their accomplishments, my gag reflex is triggered. I absolutely cannot stand the likes of Oprah Winfrey, who has made billions of dollars simply by flaunting her so-called charitable acts. I don’t think anyone should do anything in order to be praised for it, in part because that means what is being done holds value in the eyes of others instead of themselves. For me, the need for external validation is a sign of weakness. I’d rather conduct my affairs in private, and often find myself accomplishing feats very fast in hopes they won’t be witnessed.
I have learned to be cautious about providing information about myself to strangers, in part because I am generally patently honest, even when that isn’t a prudent policy. Elaboration increases my chances of pissing others off. In my experience, most people are equal parts inauthentic and nosy, with untrustworthy motives and judgments. Most spend way too much time telling others what they think they want to hear; a game I do not play. Why the hell would I care to find out what you think I want to be told? This is why I believe criticism is usually more useful than praise. There’s nothing to be learned from being acknowledged for what you know, or more accurately, for what others think you know.
While discussing my gaucheness with a friend the other day, she remarked that one conspicuous aspect of my personality was a penchant for unexpectedly abrupt responses. She accredited this to my preference for erring on the side of humility, which was perhaps a bit too charitable. The truth is; I tend to think in a rather elusive, fragmented way. My mind traces broad connections between a plethora of memories while I strive to maintain a consistent, encompassing point of view. My inclination for avoiding assumptions while exhausting possibilities predisposes me toward exploring alternatives rather than providing answers.
In conversation, it can be difficult for me to know where to begin or forecast where I’m going. When asked how my day is going, for example, my mind races through a hundred different ways my day has gone and in what ways that day’s occurrences can be qualitatively interpreted. My contemplative nature compels me to burst into a diatribe on everything in a desperate attempt at grasping its essence. Usually before doing so, it occurs to me the questioner doesn’t actually care, so after a pregnant pause I reply, “Fine.”
I’m not very good at conducting a linear conversation limited and focused upon a single topic. At the same time, I prefer not to belabor things with unnecessary or unwanted tangents. I don’t easily accept declarations, overlook perspectives or dismiss improbabilities. Sometimes trying to coherently get my point across is akin to attempting long division in my head. I’m not very adept at explaining and elaborating on a subject without being able to write it down and edit it first.
The way I write echoes the way I process information. I usually begin with a rambling rant which is immediately followed up with another tangent aimed in a completely different direction. Then I jot down a list of key words and phrases that seem useful in drawing connections between and expounding upon the rants. After that, I simply work by turning the idea fragments into sentences or paragraphs and fitting them into the composition. As new thought fragments occur, I continue to compile them under the composition. I consider the essay finished when there are either no notes on the bottom of the page or I have no idea how to fit them in.
About a half hour into this essay, which had a working title of “Confidence,” it occurred to me to compare my social presence to my writing style. After adding, “How I write this blog…,” I copied and pasted what I’d written up to that point and moved it to the bottom of the document, where it sat for several days. Here it is:
"I tend to demonstrate a somewhsat awkward social presence. I am inelegant in both posture and speech, which others are prone to confuse with insecurity, weakness or buffoonery. While I realize I’m clumsy, I also consider myself adroit, two adjectives generally considered to be antonyms.
While discussing my gaucheness with a friend the other day, she observed the perplexing thing about me is that my responses can be unexpectedly abrupt.
Another quality I possess is abruptness. I don’t like to elaborate or explain without being able to write it down and edit it first.
I abhor boasting. Whenever anybody irrelevantly elucidates their fame or success, my gag reflex is triggered.
Matter-of-factness (don’t tend to elaborate exaggerate or.)
The more I elaborate, the greater my chances become of pissing people off.
How I write this blog: words and sentence fragments, put in order, complete the sentences.
Private: don’t like to allow others to watch me work. Will tend to accomplish feats very fast in hopes they won’t be witnessed.
Flaw: sometimes try to avoid input. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the opinions of others, it’s just that I sometimes find them distracting."
While the way my mind processes information is a key factor in the way I communicate, my interests and biases are of equal significance. I’m curious to discover what earth creatures are capable of discovering, discerning and creating. Because I spend so much time conducting research instead of simply resigning myself to an opinion, I expect the same of others. I’m not at all interested in uninformed opinions. My thirst for human potential influences me to refrain from idle conversation, ego-stroking or living in the past. I desire to avoid clichés and whittle talk down to educated opinions and observations. I’m easily irritated by nervous chatter. I love finding those rare people who are willing to join me in finding ways of linking and comparing random subject matter.
One of the most bizarre things about American culture is that we are actually proud to be ignorant, and ridicule those who aren’t by calling them elitists and snobs. It seems most people seem completely disinterested in learning anything beyond their own nose, content either with believing their problems are the biggest problems in the world or that they’ve stumbled upon some simple solution to all the world’s problems. I can’t stand those who like to hear themselves talk- like that Lake Wobegon guy. I’ve witnessed entire evenings during which not a single necessary word was uttered. My theory is people can’t stand silence because it allows for contemplation. When I was younger, I found it confusing that adults didn’t seem to know very much. Now I’ve realized most people never learned how to think. We spend our lives being told how to behave and what to do by a bunch of people who spent their lives being told how to behave and what to do. I can’t stand this bandwagon mentality. Perhaps that is why I sometimes go out of my way to resist being agreeable. Success, popularity and convention are all reasons to be suspicious.
I abhor boasting as much as ignorance. I find it pointless and unnecessary. There is less value in what others have done than in how they’ve conducted themselves as they did it. Whenever anybody elucidates their accomplishments, my gag reflex is triggered. I absolutely cannot stand the likes of Oprah Winfrey, who has made billions of dollars simply by flaunting her so-called charitable acts. I don’t think anyone should do anything in order to be praised for it, in part because that means what is being done holds value in the eyes of others instead of themselves. For me, the need for external validation is a sign of weakness. I’d rather conduct my affairs in private, and often find myself accomplishing feats very fast in hopes they won’t be witnessed.
I have learned to be cautious about providing information about myself to strangers, in part because I am generally patently honest, even when that isn’t a prudent policy. Elaboration increases my chances of pissing others off. In my experience, most people are equal parts inauthentic and nosy, with untrustworthy motives and judgments. Most spend way too much time telling others what they think they want to hear; a game I do not play. Why the hell would I care to find out what you think I want to be told? This is why I believe criticism is usually more useful than praise. There’s nothing to be learned from being acknowledged for what you know, or more accurately, for what others think you know.
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