Everyone's so focused on confidence that they don't realize they should be going the other direction.

Get some facts? Keep your ears open. Question how you feel. Confidence is often totally irrelevant.

I don't say this because I dislike confidence, or believe it has no use, or resent people who are feeling confident. Listen, I often feel confident (and who doesn't love feeling that way?), and am often drawn to people's confidence (though that's not the only thing, and I can also be drawn to hesitation, etc). I'm just trying to correct a bias.

We have a bias *toward* confidence. Someone's got to be the annoying person pointing out that it's a bias.

If I could be like any artist, it would be Hayao Miyazaki. I don't mean I'd imitate his works. I mean I wish I had that much imagination, heart, and work ethic.

Watching a documentary about Studio Gibli in my early 20s convinced me I really did want to be part of artful storytelling. In a sense they had no lives, and in another sense you could see them as exploited. But they weren't. At least, not the way I saw them. They were fully dedicated to creating these wonders, and I loved them for it.

I fall so far short of them almost 20 years later, as I try to focus on my chosen work.

When it comes to writing fiction, I'm not bad at descriptions - I have that clinical knack of saying what's there precisely, quickly, and vividly - but what I think I'm actually good at - the hook that makes me want to write stories - is dialogue.

I get plenty of rough story ideas just from being a human planetside. But the stories I start - I basically always start them as conversations. The easiest way for me to write a story is to write one or more conversations between characters, then fill in with setting and action details.

I have all the hallmarks of a creative person. The only problem is I'm not creative.

I'm being a little facetious. I think that's about 75% true. I try to use the remaining 25% of wiggle room.

If I were less logical and less shy, I would be more creative. But my creativity involves both logic and shyness. So there.

I like something that's subtle (shy) but that actually works (logical).

That doesn't mean I'm not also bold sometimes. That conclusion (that I'm not) would be overly simple. In fact, avoiding the overly simple is a lot of why I'm creative in the first place. After all, we could have gone with the first two sentences above and been done with it. But they weren't good enough. They weren't true enough.

Society has cognitively dissonant relationships with masculinity and femininity. These characteristics didn't appear in a vacuum or on a whim, nor were they (originally) a conspiracy. However, it's a gigantic falsehood to assert that women should always strive to be feminine, and men should always strive to be masculine.

But even today - if you go against your apparent sex and adopt different gender characteristics, you're going to be punished. Sometimes it's by family, sometimes by friends, or mentors. But you know what? Often it's by the people you're romantically interested in.

I truly don't care if a guy calls me a pussy. He just sounds like he doesn't realize he's giving me a compliment. He sounds like a fool. Maybe that's just me. I like feminine, a lot of the time. You think I'm feminine? Why thank you!

But when it's obvious someone I feel I'm in love with (it's a feeling, ok? I don't have to justify it, share it, keep it totally quiet, or feel ashamed of it) thinks I'm not really a man, certainly not one of interest, even though she was clearly intrigued by me at first, or I see that she's now actively, though quietly, disgusted by my femininity/shyness, that really ends up hurting a lot. Like almost nothing else, sometimes.

Let me make a wild guess: I'm not the only one.

When men are telling women how they ought to be, that's wrong. But when men prefer a woman who is more feminine, and leave a woman who shows more traditionally masculine characteristics hanging, sad, rejected, as part of a depressingly consistent pattern, then that isn't any sort of malice, but it certainly has an effect on people. And the same goes the other way around.

As I said, I don't care if a guy thinks I'm not manly. But the pressure to be manly enough that someone I like sees me as not pathetic - that's kind of intense.

And I mostly ignore it. Mostly. But that's a little unusual, and I don't feel it's understood. (This kind of "being yourself" doesn't seem to work out well for men who like women. There's a mating ritual of sorts that women respond to, and it isn't about showing off your femininity.) You can mostly ignore this and be how you prefer, but it results in more pain, probably, not less.

There's natural selection and there's artificial selection. In the second category, you have sexual selection. Men's tastes in women and women's tastes in men are an enormous presence in how we think about what it means to be a man or a woman. And some of that stuff - for the same reason that being gay is not a choice - is not a choice. Men believe they ought to be a certain way partly because that has helped men in the past find women they liked who liked them; being sufficiently different from that may well have led to that person's genes disappearing from the gene pool. The same goes for women and how they believe they ought to be.

This isn't a claim that stereotypes are good or right or a-ok. Nor does it make any assertion about what traits are "masculine" (because they turn women on naturally) or "feminine" (because they turn men on naturally), versus what traits are attractive or unattractive for purely socialized, cultural reasons.

I don't need an opinion on any of those specifics to make the point that there probably are such specifics.

And I can tell you about one: being relatively shy and getting anxious and a bit tongue-tied when you like someone is generally perceived as neither attractive nor masculine. You might feel that the way you feel would be totally understandable and is itself a sort of (or a really major) compliment to another person. How you feel feels like a very positive thing, the discomfort or jitters of not knowing aside. But many women seem specifically on the lookout for any such signs and find them gross. At least, if they are anything beyond momentary.

That's one repeat experience that I can vouch for with a lot of tears.

It takes a certain kind of guts to say that, or where, common sense is wrong. And it isn't the kind of guts that's much appreciated. People will feel vaguely implicated. They'll quietly find excuses to dismiss you and what you say.

It's exactly why whistleblowers at organizations get ignored. Some observers will connive by trying to shut the person up, or paint them as unreliable or crazy. But many don't realize how they're playing along. They revert to their previous common sense without looking closely enough. They just think the whistleblower is a fool.

If you want to discount what a person says, you can always find a reason you'll want to believe. Is it a particularly good reason? You should be very suspicious of yourself here.

I've always been very, very distrustful of persuasion. The way the word is typically used, it means trying to convince someone using emotional means and other ploys, rather than advancing the empirical case. The reason I distrust it is that I grew up in an environment in which I didn't know who to believe. Also, given relatedness to people with mental illnesses, which I slowly realized was a fact, I was deathly afraid of being crazy. That was a real-life education in filtering out persuasion and other guff, and going straight for what counts if you want to know what's happening. It also taught me that often I simply will not know, and convincing myself it's A, or B, or C, is ill-advised if I don't know. Often in life the best answer is: "I do not have enough data. I could guess, but it would be a guess, and I have to remember that. If I get sloppy and start forgetting where I guessed, that's bad gambling, and the house will definitely win over time."

So, do unto others, I don't persuade others. Or as little as possible. I give people the information I think they might need, and I let them decide.

This is a handicap. I know. But sometimes there's a strength in taking on a handicap. So far, I'm not dead, homeless, friendless, or entirely unhappy, so maybe it's working ok.

But it all leads to a much bigger question. Because I'm interested in both human and animal psychology, I've become aware of many quirks in our nature that seem pretty weird and could be exploited. I'm not the kind of person who feels ok about exploitation. In fact, I'm sensitive enough to it that normal persuasion strikes me as exploitative. When people persuade me, I know what they're doing. It's almost like they're yelling at me what they're doing. I'm very aware of their tactics. If I'm convinced, it's because I like the person and wanted an opportunity to be pushed into what they're pushing for; in other words, persuasion can work on me when it's encouragement, but not when it's trying to make up for a weak argument. You can persuade me to go and see a movie when I didn't feel like it (because I generally value movies and time with friends), but not to view a poorly-substantiated position as well-substantiated. People's efforts to persuade in place of giving good arguments will often lead those people in those moments to call me stubborn, but that's because they're using the wrong tool for the job, not because I'm being stubborn.

I'm very careful in how I curate what I believe, and that you're my friend is irrelevant there.

But all of us are social creatures, and usually we aren't dealing in STEM-style proof in everyday life (though there are many situations where that is or would be an improvement, as science is incredibly useful, even in places where people have historically believed it isn't applicable). The funny thing about the word "manipulate" is that it has a negative connotation, yet everyone's constantly manipulating. I'm manipulating my keyboard. You might be considering manipulating me by responding to this post. When you say "Hello," it's a manipulation of the air and ears that often leads to a "Hello" or similar back. Our understanding of human nature and each other improves our manipulations; we interact better.

When I teach, I cannot avoid considering things like the effect of my emotional tone, or the damage I could do by saying additional true things that would only confuse right now.

So I'm often asking myself what knowledge is fair game to use, and what isn't.

For example, if I know that you like coffee, then I might consider giving you a coffee-themed gift over the holidays. That is a positive manipulation/exploit/tactic, because the idea is to get you something you'll actually enjoy. (Whether it's a successful gift or too simple a guess, we'll put to one side.) Sure, if the gift works out, the giving might go along with you appreciating me more overall, but that's always a possibility when we interact positively with others. Nothing really wrong with that. (Some would disagree with the latter, and say a gift should be entirely and scrupulously selfless in every way, but I think that's unrealistic and shows a lack of understanding of the motivation subsystem in brain tissue. No matter how selfless an act, in the end, the person acted that way because they valued it, and found the idea satisfying in some way, which meant they somehow felt good about it, or thought they might.)

For another example, I read about some research showing that if you are going to do someone a favor, they may actually appreciate it more if you don't hide that you aren't super thrilled about it. Favors can actually lead to resentment (we don't like feeling we owe someone), or else to people taking you for granted. But if you are open about the fact this is a hassle, or time-consuming, or effortful, or really not what you were planning to do, etc, and you do it anyway, the atmosphere kind of shifts to the person simply appreciating that you went out of your way for them. They take it less for granted, and they're less likely to feel a weird resentment about owing you, since you gave them a slightly hard time about it. Since reading that, this is a trick I use regularly. Not always; it's an option. If people know me well enough, I've mentioned the article, and presumably they know that I'm "manipulating" them or "exploiting" human psychology in this way. So in this case, I've decided that something potentially debatable falls on the side of "really ok and within anyone's rights to use." That's because the result seemed to be better relationships between people, people feeling more appreciated, less resentment, etc.

There are many other quirks and tricks like this I'm aware of but don't use. Many of them are evidently things people do use, because I see it. And it isn't wrong that they do. Not necessarily. My self-standard is not my other-standard. And I think that's an important distinction to make, for a variety of reasons. When we're good at something, for example, we typically raise our standard; that doesn't mean we should harshly judge the people who are average or decidedly untalented at it. When I misspell a word, I feel stupid, but that's because I'm good at spelling; when you misspell a word, I don't think you're stupid, I just think you aren't that good at spelling. In my opinion, this is exactly how self-standard versus other-standard should work. But that would be my opinion, given it's how I try to go about it, wouldn't it?

The emotional, relational subtext of all the above, beyond just some concepts and sharing something I've thought about a lot - in other words my unconscious motive behind speaking in the first place - is almost certainly along the lines of, "You may think I'm socially incompetent and bad at persuasion, but there's something you don't know: it's a conscious, effortful choice, one based on hard experience, and what I consider to be a higher standard in some ways, though I'm not judgy about this."

In the end, most of us want to be understood and appreciated, so it's pretty safe to assume that's the motive behind most of what people share. Some people are more skillful at disguising this, or convincing themselves they really don't care how they're evaluated, but that's mostly a ruse. Motivation is primitive, and the engine is quite similar for all of us.

My own motives aside, I hope you have a feeling of some small new insight.

If I think about it, there really aren't any digital games I regret spending money on. That's an interesting little thing I never fully noticed before.

The context is... I see this work I do trying to develop the craft of making interactive, artful, meaningful digital experiences as something that isn't likely to pay financially. Maybe I finish one of my experiments to my heart's content, maybe I'm proud of it, but it wouldn't be something anyone would pay for, or almost no one.

Then I look at this little factoid. I don't regret any of the dollars I spent on digital games. Most of the ones I've bought, I've never even installed or played. Yet I like having them. If they suck, I'm interested in analyzing why, and seeing what still worked regardless.

So if I were selling a game to me, just to me, I wouldn't feel bad about selling something I'd worked hard on and was proud of, for the humble but operational and possibly novel and moving thing it turned out to be. I wouldn't feel bad at all. But then, I'm really not a tough customer. Oh, I'll be dissatisfied with everything on some level. Nothing meets my overall standard anymore. But I'm not interested in games just as an escape - in fact, I'm a little bit allergic to that. Most games I play, I feel like they're trying too hard to draw me into a seemingly infinite world full of trivia and "lore" to memorize, stuff that sounds really half-baked to me and corny and I don't know why I'd want to remember any of it. But that feeling doesn't make me regret buying the game. It makes me regret my allergy, and I put aside the game and think, "Maybe some other time."

I'm not trying to be mean. But in some ways my standard is very high, almost impossibly, and I recognize that and don't hold it against a piece of software that was very difficult to create. (Also, there is still magic in these works. I still feel it.)

So maybe I should try a little bit harder not to hold imperfection against my own projects. Maybe I'd feel less blocked, get more deeply absorbed in the work again, and more consistently, and make quicker progress.

I kind of feel that seeking out delicious food is putting the trailer well before the tractor.

Figure out what foods are nutritious - that is, do the job they're meant to do - and sit best with you, in terms of how you feel the rest of the day or week.

Then get creative with those foods.

Normal dietary/culinary practice is backwards.

You know, sometimes when I feel attracted to someone, and she seems really special, I look around. There are the couples, younger and older. There are... everywhere... the people. And just about every person started this way, as someone feeling someone was special. And most of the people don't seem special. Every jerk, every racist, every murderer - they all started as someone having the hots for someone. Or, pretty much all of them. And if some started some other way - say as IVF - it probably doesn't correlate much with who they are themselves.

You feel a person is really special, and they are - but that's just because everyone is. You want to believe this person is extra - better, smarter, kinder, more aware, healthier, stronger, more determined, funnier, perennially cuter - than the average person. And... is s/he? Maybe it's all an illusion, and you're just looking at another one of the jerks and fools - special, yes, but that's because we all are. And you - you yourself, you're another one of the jerks and fools. So why would anyone find you special, except through an illusion, or simply because we all are special?

"Not caring what anyone thinks" can be itself, and not so subtly, a form of approval seeking. We all know we're supposed to be this way. Society says it's good. According to the theory and sometimes in practice, people will respect you more if you don't care what anyone thinks, if you go and do you. But not caring what anyone thinks is reactionary, and it's in essentially all cases a lie. If you really didn't care, you wouldn't be making a big kerfuffle about it. (Nor would it be healthy or sustainable.)

What does it take to find the humility to say, "I do care what people think, but I'm the one charting my course. If some people like what I do, that's great. If some people don't like it, then I'm sorry or possibly not sorry. But I'm the one living this life, not anyone else. I choose." Is that very difficult? It's certainly more honest. All this posturing and convincing yourself that you truly don't give a fuck what anyone thinks - honestly, I find it sounds very gullible.

But you wouldn't be interested in that, because you don't care what anyone thinks.

Hell, you don't even care what you think. You're an anyone. What does coherency matter, anyway?

-

It's normal and human and healthy and constructive to care what people think. There's no good excuse for ragging on people who want the approval of others: you do also, whether or not you're putting on a big show (or blank facade) about not wanting approval. We evolved to be like this, and it holds society together. Good grief, people will devote themselves to cultish ideas at the drop of a bowling pin.

I don't find it brave or intelligent not to care what anyone thinks. It seems like a deficiency that might in some cases work in your favor - for example, if you're a hermit, or you spend all your life in the same room doing mathematics.

What is sensible, though, is taking charge of your own responsibility to chart a course through the universe that's available to you. That's you. You make those calls, in the end. You can care and still choose for yourself. Caring what you think doesn't mean I must do what you say. Since when did that even look like an equation?

If you tell me what I wrote above is highly delusional, I will care - I will take it seriously and think about it. But I'll probably end up concluding that it isn't delusional. No need to get reactionary. No need to declare my allegiance to the flag of not caring what anyone thinks.

Dating - attraction - relationships - we have this inner sense that it's all so incredibly important and meaningful, and that there's something wonderful at the other end of the rainbow. Then we look around us and see where people get when they follow their rainbows. And it doesn't look anything like what we'd have hoped for. (Or if it does, fast-forward and it really doesn't. I mean, being in the ground isn't that sexy, ok?)

We could forge ahead, hoping against hope.

Or we could say, "Maybe not in this life. Maybe it would have to be another world."

I'm pretty stupidly idealistic in my own way. The latter seems like the only sensible answer so far, for me.

There are certain defects my writing tends to have. At first, either I don't notice them, or I think I've fixed them and I haven't, or I feel utterly hopeless and stupid and egotistical even for trying. (Feeling that way doesn't mean you are, but I'm sharing the feelings.)

Over time, most of them I can spot and fix.

Common defects:

• I'm so confident about my grammar that I've really stretched it
• The sentence is too long
• I've said this in a way that's so ordinary that I now believe it was too obvious even to say
• Hedging against being seen as too facile, that is, after my efforts to be ultra-clear, I make too little effort to de-academicize, or, worse, I puff up my language semi-intentionally
• There are too many syllables in this phrase
• In an effort to be fresh, I've used a metaphor or analogy or word that seems pretentious or precious - it stands out, but not pleasantly
• Too many fucking qualifiers
• Too many fucking adverbs
• Saying "like" as often as I and others do in speech doesn't make this writing conversational, it makes my tone curiously slobbish and complacent
• Sure I can justify a tangent, but it's going to sound like rationalizing and maybe it is
• I talk about myself too much, and admitting "I think" and "I suspect" so often actually makes the impression worse, not better, because it keeps pointing back to Numero Uno
• My paragraphs don't have topic sentences, and I break them up by feel too often, rather than sticking to a clear thought for each, or, can you imagine, actually writing from an outline
• I bury the lead - my introduction would make even a ghost impatient
• My thinking is abstract, and I'm not actually very good with examples
• For all that I talk about arguing with solid evidence, I don't provide many citations at all

There's a difference between deterring bad behavior and letting yourself become animalistic and hoping that's a deterrent.

In psychology, we have this concept of reinforcement. It isn't what most people assume at first glance.

If your son keeps playing video games instead of doing math homework, and is getting a C- in math, and you take away the video games for a weekend, but then later he plays video games even more instead of math, and now he's getting a D- in math, that isn't just his spite, or a punishment that didn't seem to get through to him. You just reinforced his behavior. (Specifically, you did so by taking something away. This is technically a "negative reinforcer" because of the taking away, but functionally resembles a reward.)

A reinforcer is any intervention that leads to more of what you're giving feedback on.

A punisher is any intervention that leads to less of what you're giving feedback on.

It doesn't matter how intuitive or counterintuitive.

If your reward - offering to pay someone - results in less of what you were hoping for, that is a punisher, and for many practical purposes, a punishment.

If your punishment - assessing a fine - results in more of what you were hoping to prevent, that is a reinforcer, and for many practical purposes, a reward.

What you think you're doing - making it pleasant, making it unpleasant, etc - takes a seat way at the back of the caboose compared to what the data say actually happens as a result.

If you want to deter consistently or encourage consistently, you cannot ignore data.

A strong belief is actually a brittle opinion. The idea isn't new, but it hasn't reached its tipping point yet, hasn't reached wide adoption, does not seem standard, still strikes people as peculiar.

If you really want demonstrably strong beliefs, here's a counterintuitive but effective trick: start imagining that everything you believe is wrong. Just imagining. Don't go crazy. Test and critique everything. And imagine that what you believe is wrong is right. Just imagining, again. Don't go crazy.

Never assume you're above considering what you're certain of to be potentially uncertain or false. Your name: couldn't it be something else? Maybe you're dreaming, and when you wake up you'll remember your actual name. (That's actually happened to me. In more than one dream, I've had a different name. And I thought about it and was sure about this other name, and didn't even think of my real name.) It's a fact that you are not quite 100% sure about your name. Close but no cigar: practical, colloquial certainty, yes, but actual, literal, total certainty? Sorry, but no.

If you can let go of the absoluteness of knowing your own name, you can do that for any fact you're sure about. It's work - but that work enriches you with beliefs that can legitimately be called strong, because the ones you keep finding in your back pocket will tend over time toward accuracy, truth, and reliability.

The brittle kind of belief is just bluster.