Monday, September 18, 2017

Double Negatives and the Philosophy of Overthinking

Yesterday, I sent an email to a lecturer at my college asking about a quiz question on an online testing resource my course uses on which I was marked wrong. I thought the question may have a mistake in it, because of a double-negative in the wording of the question and the "correct" answer. Today, I received an email back praising my understanding of the content, and suggesting that the publisher might think I was overthinking the question. This is an excerpt of my response.

I stand firm by a belief that if thinking about a question obscures the answer, it is probably a bad or poorly worded question. Getting distracted by minutia is one thing, and a personal foible it's fair to test resistance to. Thinking, however, should never be an enemy in an academic subject. I would argue that a double-negative in the core structure of a question is not minutia, as they are frequently used intentionally to ensure a student is reading the question thoroughly. If the correct answer isn't actually correct because whoever wrote the question forgot the double-negative, that is a problem with the question, not with me, and I hope others will understand if I object to being docked marks for a mistake someone else made.

If on the other hand there's something I'm not seeing that explains why the answer the publisher registers as correct is actually the most correct answer to the question as posed, I want to know, for the sake of my own understanding.

Regarding "overthinking"...

People have often accused me of thinking too much. I have come to resent it. It does not tell me how, or whether, my conclusion was wrong, which I think ought to be, generally speaking, the measure against which my thinking is judged.
I also find it is frequently used as an excuse to dismiss constructive criticism or complaints I attempt to make, to save someone else the effort of updating a flawed system, habit or stance.
On the other hand, sometimes people are only trying to advise me not to waste my time on something they don't think is worth it. Well-intentioned, but I would usually prefer they didn't do that.
If I 'over-think' quiz questions, it is not likely that I fail to think when deciding how to spend my minutes and my effort. Besides that, how I spend my time and effort is my business.
The quality of study and testing materials in a school I attend is also my business, as well as the business of every other student in the course, and the school itself. I think it justifies a little bit of time and effort giving feedback if I notice a flaw, and there is even a small chance that it might be improved on for later years. Every change must start somewhere, with someone noticing something that could be better and doing something about it. Student engagement is often criticised as dangerously low, and generally I agree. I do my best to compensate in what small ways I can.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Common or Garden Heartbreak

If you've had any romance in your life, you probably know all the symptoms. An obsessive compulsion to listen to songs that remind you of Them; the mind turning irresistibly toward Them in every idle moment; the transformation on the context of every song you hear; the feeling of guilty wrongness upon seeking the company of other people which may be pleasantly distracting, but doesn't fit the craving for Their company.

Every part of it is predictable, as reliable as the tide; what fills me with joy leaves me with sorrow. I've certainly been through it before. This iteration is better in a number of ways. We did not part angrily, but honestly and with respect. There is no other new partner to blame, only distance. The spirals are looser, less clinging. All the questions about self-worth have easy answers, because our parting did not reflect badly on me.

But there's no dulling the sting of that core blade. Whenever my mind is idle, songs and memories and a desperate hope that I will see Them again fill it up. I cry silently in public, and wait, patiently and impatiently, until the tears will finally run out. How many months will it take? And more importantly, what I actually fear... Will I be able to get over this heartache without letting go of the hope that I will see Them again? All sense tells me there is no reason I can't. Desire is the partner of sorrow, but if I can make that desire light enough not to crush me, that doesn't immediately mean it will fly out of my head altogether, and what could possibly convince me that going back to such a fine thing, if and when it becomes possible, would not be wonderful?

But still I am afraid to let go too readily.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Estimating Confidence in Astrology

Follow-up to a conversation about Zodiac signs...

I notice a strong correlation between the descriptions on a particular website for the Aries sign, and my own personality. I do not attribute this correlation to any particular cause, and would answer with a couple of vague notions off the top of my head and a shrug if asked to name a phenomenon that caused me to have "Aries" traits.

I do think that astrological signs in general describe collections of personality traits that tend to correlate to one another, such that if any given person possesses one notable trait of a given sign... take Aries and a hot temper as an arbitrary example... it is more likely that that person will exhibit any other given "Aries" trait than it is likely of a random member of the populace, regardless of whether Aries actually is that person's birth sign or not; I am not claiming that being Aries is the cause, only that, for e.g., having a hot temper, and having a passionate approach to romance, are positively correlated.

I don't put any particular stock in Astrology. If I had to take a wild guess, I'd rate the likelihood that the position of earth relative to the stars at birth has a significant and known effect on the development of a person's personality at somewhere in the ballpark of 10-20%, along with most other specific supernatural theories.

I do, from time to time, wonder about the idea, and how it could be true, if it were.

What I actually intended to express confidence in in any way was more or less like this:
If I were to link you to the specific article I found about the Aries sign and asked you to read it and select any given claim it makes about the Aries personality type, I would estimate the likelihood of that particular claim being true enough of me that bearing it in mind would likely explain some of my behaviour at around 80%.

Given that I don't think the stars are the reason, just that the traits described happen to coincide with how I turned out... If I were to make a numerical guess, I'd expect that 20% or less of the population of the Western world match their own Zodiac signs (whatever they may be) that well.

I think that Astrology, like Tarot and similar sorts of things that suggest meanings and explanations behind peoples' behaviour, may in some circumstances have some use in pushing the mind out of an established view to look at things from a new perspective. Reading about an Astrological personality archetype may prompt me to wonder if the perspective described is similar to the perspective of someone I have been arguing with, so that I have a theory that might help me understand them if it proves relevant, rather than being unable to come up with anything besides frustration when their preferences and values are not like mine.

There doesn't need to be any magic behind it at all to have that use. Rather, it is functionally a deck of cards, upon each of which is written, "Is it happening for this reason?" For any given situation, some of the questions will have no bearing on matters and may be discounted out of hand. To others, a good answer is a considerate, "Hm. Maybe. I'll look for evidence to confirm/refute."

If you take this view, then it follows that the mysticism and ceremony surrounding their use exists purely to lend weight and importance to the consideration of the possibility, without which it may be too easy to shrug off the competing theory in favour of one's existing worldview, even if it fails to properly account for the behaviours or events one is noticing.