Life as the sum of all embarrassments

All of life, I guess, is a giant exercise in gradually humbling yourself further. I find it amazing, and this is truly different from saying that I find it annoying, that there are any people at all who get more sure of what they know as they grow older.

Personally, I think, that the more I learn and get to know about things, the more it becomes embarrassingly clear to me that there is so, so much I do not know. One of the reasons I like working in finance is that it has so much to never come to know. (Yes, that sounds convoluted but that it what I wanted to say; it's not in error.)

At the start of this year, I made big, elaborate plans for what I will learn in 2015. 2 things have changed since then. One, I realize that to execute only them will take not one year but probably three, and two, that there are going to be many diversions on the way where I'd go about learning things I hadn't initially planned to, so in effect it will take more than three, maybe five or six. But the thing that I am not yet accounting for is that some of those diversions will become full-fledged highways in and of themselves, and that they will have their own diversions. And so on ad-infinitum. And with this, I'm pretty confident that the whole thing will take not five years but fifty, or however many I have left.

Which makes me wonder - is it worth planning for a period as long as an year, when so much changes during it? I would argue that there is value in planning, even when the failure of the plan is a foregone conclusion. It reminds us of the highway, when we're on our joyrides along diversions. It enhances our realization that the diversions are lovely, but also forces us to examine how lovely they are compared to what's at the end of the highway. And sometimes, to pave new paths  by which the diversion would eventually join the highway again.

That, I guess, makes us more creative..

Google Chrome

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What seems like work to other people that doesn't seem like work to you?

In a recent post, Paul Graham suggests that we ask ourselves this question, and that our answers to this question, are things we are well suited for. I totally agree.

I have always wanted to do a lot of things. Ever since I assumed a semblance of adulthood, I have wanted to to do many different things, have many different occupations. I don't use the term "wanted to" very loosely. When I say "wanted to" I mean that I have actively tried to better myself at those things for at least a month, with a view to do them professionally. These have included becoming a poet, a programmer, a short story writer, a singer, an investor, a quant, a film critic, a photographer, a cartoonist. Fundamentally, I am not a subscriber of the notion that one has to become this one specific thing in life. Right from my teenage, the one thing that the popularly reinforced idea of "you have just one life" has made me a little frantic about is the desire to pack a number of different professions into this one life. To many other people, this same idea is a great motivator pushing themselves in the opposite direction, of devoting themselves entirely to one great pursuit, and making a mark in it. I admire those people, but for some reason, doing many different things holds more sway to me than being a master of any one thing, and I think this is guided by my regret minimization utility function. Would I regret it more if I couldn't be great at one thing, or would I regret it more to not try having done so many others. For me, it is the latter.

At the same time, I very much believe in the other popular notion that "if something is worth doing, it is worth doing well". And it would be foolish not to concede to the oft proven point that trying to do several things is a big impediment in developing expertise in any one thing. Therefore, for people with dispositions such as mine, it is all that much more important that they choose their targets well, because they are only going to be good at so many things.

Which brings me back to Paul Graham's question. It is a great guide.
My answers: Writing essays, Studying statistics and probability, walking. I wish debugging was also on this list. But I suppose this list will change.
It is useful to create one's own list in answer to this question, and to come back to it periodically: both as a reminder to follow it, and as a reminder to update it.

Being regular

1. Regularity is everything. Learning something for 2 hours for 25 alternate days is far, far superior to learning the same thing for 10 hours each on the first 5 days and then not coming back to it. On day 51, you will be in a much better position by following the first strategy.

2. If you don't intend to keep using a skill (WebDev, ML - anything) at least 2 to 3 times a week, for at least a couple of years, you might as well not learn it. You will unlearn it in as little as two to three months, and if you need that skill again you will have to start from the very beginning, making you question why you spent all that time learning it in the first place.

3. Set all non-focus but essential things on a reminder until it becomes an autopilot thing. This includes things such as exercising - essential, yes, but should not occupy your mental space and time. The time you spend actually exercising is all the time you should devote to it, nothing more. 

Empathy as skill

Today, on linkedin, I saw an article headlined "Why empathy is your most important skill." I thought it was wrong on so many levels, I wonder where to begin. Also, I have no motivation to write long posts. So I'll just record that while I have nothing against skill-building, in fact it's a most noble activity, but the moment you start thinking of empathy as a skill, you miss the whole point of it, and basically guarantee that you probably won't be acquiring any, and stand to lose some of what you were born with. 

More on Solitude

After an all too long intermission, my love affair with the idea of solitude continues (older entries here and here). Today, I read something on solitude that deeply affected me. Since it's not everyday that you read something that affects you deeply, it merits sharing.

So here goes: William Deresiewicz's lecture on 'Solitude and Leadership' in The American Scholar

A little more on Truth

(My fanhood and fascination with the idea of truth continues. Older entries here, here, here and here.)

There are two kinds of people.

A:  Those who believe there is indeed a truth, and that it's the only thing that's constant.

and

B:  Those who think truth is somehow flexible, who say things like "Everyone has their own truth, and this is his truth and that is your truth", and those who sometimes will totally backtrack on their earlier declarations, and stand for something entirely at odds with their old stand while not admitting that the earlier stance was somehow wrong or misguided or false or just a lie but will rather protect it with statements like "that was the truth of last month and this is the truth of today".

It's only a subset of those who belong to the former group who will ever be willing to die for the truth. And it's only some out of those who'd be willing to die for the truth, that will make the world a better place.

You are one of A or B. And you always know who you really are. There's no fooling oneself.

Two bullshit pieces of advice

1. Set realistic goals.

2. Always have a plan B.

If doing great work, by which I mean work that you in your most honest and solitary moments can call truly great, as opposed to reaching prestigious positions that will get you the most number of congratulatory messages, is what you really want, the right advice is the very exact opposite of the two popular but pathetic bullet points above.

If it is the other thing you really want, you should probably stick to the two points above as best as you can. And, good luck.

Everybody observes everything, except their observations.

On The Simple, Unskilled Act Of Speaking The Truth

Some people can, some people can't and some people can't not.