• 3 Posts
  • 153 Comments
Joined 3 years ago
cake
Cake day: June 9th, 2023

help-circle
  • I don’t think it’s a lowering of expectations — it feels like more of a qualitative difference. Like, the thing I’m looking for now is for someone to have given a fuck about what they’re trying to say. “Earnestness” is probably a good word for it.

    Another factor in this is probably the fact that I was one of those kids who was at the top of my class for my entire school life, then went away to a prestigious university that just made me ramp up the pressure on myself even more. For a long while, I had built so much of my identity up around being smart, which led to me becoming overly preoccupied with ensuring I appeared smart too.

    To give a concrete example, I’m a scientist who isn’t particularly well read, and for a long while, I held myself back from really engaging with the humanities, because I felt like I needed to stay in my lane and not make a fool of myself by having ill-informed or incorrect opinions on things like art or literature. I was too up in my head to be able to read a poem and actually have my own emotional response; internally, I’d be orienting myself around what seemed like the “correct” response. Ironically, being overly preoccupied with appearing smart led me to act quite dumb (though fortunately I met many delightful humanities nerds while I was at university, who were excited to both help me learn bits of the technical theory, whilst also being enthusiastic about my own crude, unrefined opinions).

    So yeah, I used to be overly fixated on ideas of correctness and good execution in basically everything, and that made me hold back from engaging with my passion for the world, for fear of being wrong. I guess the point I’m making here is that my recalibration with respect to AI has also come alongside a personal arc in which I am learning to open up and let myself care about things without having to be good at them.

    For instance, I am a deeply mediocre musician, but I have a lot of fun jamming with friends. I wouldn’t have been able to do this 10 years ago. So when I see someone being courageous enough to actually try to say or make something meaningful, I respect the guts of it, even if the execution is not great. A human can learn how to communicate better, but an LLM will never be able to actually give a fuck about what it says


  • I don’t know anyone like you describe (at least, not nearly this level of bad).

    But I want to offer a more positive contra-example. Since AI has become ubiquitous, I have become a lot more forgiving of mediocrity in human made stuff, whether that’s a piece of art or other media, or simply someone trying to articulate themselves, but poorly. I’m way more likely to work harder to try to understand the point that someone is making, and to see the thing I’m engaging with as an earnest attempt to communicate with another person.

    In a weird way, I think that AI has made me a better person because of this. It’s reminded me of what things truly have value





  • As an add-on to this, people having the thought pattern of:

    They’re saying that my friend said something racist -> Therefore they’re saying my friend is a racist ™ -> However, my friend is a good person -> Therefore they’re not a racist -> Therefore what my friend said wasn’t racist -> Therefore the people calling my friend out are the bad guys

    You can substitute in words like homophobic, transphobic, ableist, classist etc. for racist — the flow goes the same. An excellent book that helped me to understand this was “racism without racists”. Reading that as a teenager helped me to more constructively respond when I have been called out for prejudiced attitudes, such as racism.

    It makes me feel deeply uncomfortable to think of myself as a racist — and so I don’t. However, unlike people who default to this thought pattern that turns cognitive dissonance into indignant resistance to change, I work to accept the fact that I am absolutely capable of doing, saying or thinking racist shit — it’d be hard not to, when I’ve grown up in a systemically racist culture. But I can acknowledge that without blaming myself for it, which allows me to avoid the discomfort of considering myself a racist whilst maintaining my moral fortitude.

    A phrase that’s helped me a lot is “you’re not responsible for your first thought; you are responsible for your second”. That helps me to actually interrogate where something is coming from if I catch myself having a reflexive thought that shocks or disgusts me. Unfortunately, this habit isn’t one that many people have.

    Thinking about things in terms of innate essences people have (even if they’re less binary than good Vs evil) is harmful even when we’re just looking at harms to ourselves. For instance, I was a super bright kid, and “the smart one” was a core pillar of my identity. However, as I entered my teens, I was so scared of losing this that I became more concerned with appearing smart than actually being smart. It felt like something I didn’t have control over, which was terrifying. But I often say that I got a hell of a lot smarter when I let myself be dumb. That’s because when I think about what a smart person actually does that makes them smart, it’s stuff like being curious about the world, self reflecting on one’s beliefs and knowledge and being open to being corrected etc… It was a lot less pressure once I stopped thinking about things in terms of immutable, innate essences



  • That science is rational and objective.

    In reality, the way that science works is much muddier than most realise. It’s full of subjectivity, and this isn’t a bug, but a feature. Intuition and tacit knowledge play a big role in basically any research (and this is why I am confident that AI can’t replace scientists). Politics are also present at every stage of the process. Science is at its least objective when scientists convince themselves that they’re being objective. We can’t escape our biases, so we need to actively acknowledge them and embrace the subjectivity of our situated perspectives.

    The problem is that talking about this is a great way to piss off other scientists. I’ve been accused before of “betraying the side”, by a scientist who was aware that science has a disproportionately large epistemic platform (epistemic means pertaining to knowledge — basically just that as a result of the huge benefits of scientific advancements in the last century or so, science has been on a bit of a pedestal in terms of trusted expert knowledge in society. Criticising this is seen by a betrayal by some because of the concerning rise in psuedoscience and anti-scientific rhetoric.

    However, I’m of the belief that some of what has driven the rise of psuedoscience is that the average person doesn’t like to be told “shut up and do what the smart people say”. They feel a lot of mistrust towards society (which, in many cases, is entirely reasonable, especially in the case of marginalised groups who have been heavily exploited by science and scientists),

    The problem goes far beyond just science, but I think this is certainly an aspect of it. I sympathise with scientists who want to continue to have the privileged position they hold, but I don’t think that’s helpful in the long term.





  • Nerds on this thread may be interested in linguistic research on emoji as gesture by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne.

    Here’s an open-access academic paper for the mega-nerds out there

    With an overview of that article written for a more general audience, in The Conversation

    For those who prefer their edutainment in audio format, McCulloch and Gawne’s podcast is a fun and eclectic listen. Here’s the episode on emoji as gesture.


    Further Reading

    For those wanting to learn more, McCulloch’s 2019 book “Because Internet” is a delightfully fun read that I can strongly recommend. It looks at the wider picture of how the internet has changed communication, with a chapter dedicated to emoji. There’s been a lot of productive discussion (both academic and informal) in this area since then, and McCulloch’s work has been a key factor in driving that.

    Also, I’ve not yet read it, but Lauren Gawne has a more recent (2025) book titled "Gesture: a slim guide " that says it’s “suitable for readers of all backgrounds”.

    If you’re interested in either of these books, then you should support the authors and purchase the book(s) if you have the means to. Certainly, that’s preferable to downloading it for free from a shadow library like Anna’s Archive(Wikipedia has reliable and up to date links to this site (so you know what sites to avoid, ofc) and pointing you there means I’m not directly linking you to the naughty site.


    N.b. I am a biochemist, not a linguist, and so my word-nerdery is purely of the hobbyist variety. I don’t have particular domain knowledge in this area.

    Also, this comment is in part because I linked these resources to a friend not too long ago, so I had it mostly to hand.



  • I’m sorry for your loss.

    I’m going to share with you a sentiment that I don’t imagine you’ll be able to fully process right now, when everything is still so raw and jumbled, but I hope that in time, it might offer you some comfort, as it did for me.

    When I lost my partner back in 2021, it made me think a lot about legacy — in particular, the fact that deciding a person’s legacy is a task that falls to the people who are left behind. On the days where the grief hurts particularly badly, this idea helps me to stay focussed on the duty I feel to carry my partner’s memory forwards, through embodying his virtues and learning from his flaws. It’s a heavy burden, but one I’m glad to carry.

    It’s okay if thinking this way is too much for you right now, especially as you have so much on your plate in terms of logistics. I just wanted to share this with you because what you said about your dad’s birthday touched me. Your next few birthdays are going to be pretty rough, but I hope that in time, you’ll be able to remember the joke about how you’re your dad’s birthday present in a way that’ll still hurt, but in a warm, loving way that inspires you to continue making your dad proud. He might be gone, but you’ll always be his birthday present — a birthday present that will continue to become even better as you continue to learn and grow.

    I’ve never lost a parent before, but I relate to what you describe about feeling untethered. That’s another part of why I commented. My partner used to be one of the tethers connecting me to the world, and losing him meant I needed to find new ways to anchor myself so that I could be the tether that holds his memory here. It’s disorienting and exhausting and the worst part is that when you feel like you’re beginning to adjust, another wave of grief will hit you when you’re least expecting it. Grief doesn’t happen all at once, nor does it follow a predictable path. Be kind to yourself over the coming weeks and months.

    Good luck with taking the dog to the funeral home on Friday, and good luck with supporting other members of your family too. I hope that the funeral logistics go smoothly enough that you are able to find some time to begin the long process of reorienting yourself. And please don’t feel the need to reply to this comment if you don’t have the brain space for that. God knows you’ve got enough obligations on your plate





  • Although they’re struggling at the moment, due to their blood being harvested for use in biomedical research.[1]. Although fortunately, there have been synthetic alternatives developed in the last few years, so hopefully their numbers should recover as that is phased in.

    Edit: if this makes you feel overly sad, here is a palate cleanser(30 minute long, ideally listened to in one uninterrupted block). It’s one of my favourite things I stumbled across last year, and it makes me feel hopeful about the world. It made me cry, but in a good way.


    [1]: Linked article has more info, but the TL;DR is that their blood clots in the presence of bacterial toxins, so it’s super useful in stuff like vaccine development and production. They capture the crabs, harvest the blood and return the crabs alive, and the stats that the system has on this says that only a small percentage of them end up dying as a result of this. However, given that we can’t see how many of them die or fail to reproduce in the weeks and months following their release, we can’t confirm that.

    We do know that the numbers of a bird that feasts almost exclusively on horseshoe crab eggs have seen severe reductions over the last 40 or so years, so it seems likely that the impact of this harvesting on horseshoe crab populations is more severe than the official data suggests.

    It’s unfortunate because they fall between the cracks when it comes to animal research ethics. For one, the research isn’t being done on them, so they probably wouldn’t be protected under most existing legislation anyway. But also, animal research legislation doesn’t tend to give much protection to invertebrates (with the exception of octopuses, which are smart enough that they get additional protections).

    I think it’s a pretty interesting case study of a big gap in the legislation that protects the rights of animals — existing legislation focuses a lot on our duty to individual animals, but here, despite the harm to any one horseshoe crab seeming to be tolerably low, the vast scale at which we have been harvesting them has had an impact on the species as a whole.

    My view is that an anthropocentric framework that puts humans above all other animals is probably harmful in general and something we should work to undermine, but that if we are taking that tack (which seems necessary for the utilitarian view of “harvesting these crabs’ blood has saved many human lives” that most people seem to take on this topic), then we must also accept that we have an ethical duty to be good stewards of the natural world. We can’t have it both ways and think of ourselves as so rational and smart, but not accept the responsibility that would come with that.

    I find the legislative angle of it especially interesting, because most people I have told this to are shocked to learn of how they’re not protected, and they share at least some of my view that effective animal research ethics legislation should surely account for our duty to ecosystems as a whole. People far more learned than I in legal matters have struggled to think of ways we could effectively legislate this though. It’s possible that additional legislation isn’t the best way to handle this, and that we would be better served to aim to regulate in opposition to the economically extractivist ideology that seems to be the default setting nowadays (because horseshoe crabs are just an illustrative case study of the problem).

    I apologise for info dumping in reply to your joyful comment with such downer info. I do feel hopeful about the progress of synthetic alternatives though. I also find it a fascinating topic to learn about, even if it is a bit depressing


    1. 1 ↩︎


  • Me.

    I mean, I’m not particularly old — only 29. But I’m super surprised I still exist. And it’s not for lack of trying. It just turns out that even though I’m pretty mediocre at living, I’m even worse at dying. Fortunately, I’m in a place now where that’s a thing I’m happy about, for the most part.

    I’ve got at least 8 different attempts under my belt, and the way that some of them failed makes me feel like it’s almost offensive to be an atheist. For instance, when I swam out into the sea, as far as I could until I couldn’t anymore, and the next thing I remember was waking up on the beach, not super far from where I’d swam from. I thought that was a thing that only happened in movies. Granted, I’m not a strong swimmer, so I didn’t get very far out, but still.

    That was one of my attempts as an adult, but I had a lot as a teenager too. When I was about 16, I was resentful of all the people who cared about me, because the guilt I felt over hurting them was the only thing keeping me alive. Building off of the crisis management advice that I’d seen that said it’s good to try to put some distance between you and your suicidal feelings by trying to hold off until the next day, for instance, I resolved that I would stick around until I was 20, and if nothing had improved by then, I would kill myself and fuck anyone who begrudged me this escape — no-one could say I didn’t try.

    Well, it turns out that some things did improve by age 20 — enough that it suggested there was a non-zero hope that I could some day live and actually be happy to be alive. I still struggled a lot after that point, because it’s not like my mental health was magically resolved (it still isn’t), but I’m glad I stuck around.

    In a way though, things got harder after age 20. Ironically, there were countless times throughout my late teens in which looking forward to my death was the only thing that saved my life. When things were particularly rough, I would work out how many days I had to go before I could rest, and it soothed me. After I was 20, however, I was unanchored. I had a life that didn’t feel like it was my own, because I never expected to make it this far. Even now, it still sometimes feels like I’m in a bonus level. It’s a bizarre feeling.

    But yeah, I, and many of the people who know and love me, are surprised that I’m still around. I’m proud of myself, even if a significant part of why I’m still here is sheer luck. Obviously this wasn’t what you meant when asking your question, but I’ve been reflecting on my progress a lot lately, and the idea of giving this answer amused me. It feels healing to joke about this stuff a bit, I think