Two of the biggest mistakes that I used to make that made me a poor conversationalist:
1. Thinking too much about what I was going to say next. If another person is speaking, don’t think about anything else, where “anything else” includes your next words. Instead, just focus on what they’re saying, and the next thing to say will come to mind naturally. If it doesn’t, a brief silence before you say something is not the end of the world. Let your mind wander until it comes up with something.
2. Asking myself questions like “is X interesting / relevant / intelligent-sounding enough to say here”, and trying to figure out whether the thing on my mind was relevant to the purpose of the conversation. Some conversations have an explicit purpose, but most don’t. They’re just the participants saying whatever random thing comes to their mind as a result of what the other person last said. Obviously you’ll want to put a bit of effort to screening off any potentially offensive or inappropriate comments, but for the most part you’re better off just saying whatever random thing comes to your mind.
Relatedly, I suspect that these kinds of tendencies are what make introverts experience social fatigue. Social fatigue seems [in some people’s anecdotal experience; don’t have any studies to back me up here] to be associated with mental inhibition: the more you have to spend mental resources on holding yourself back, the more exhausted you will be afterwards. My experience suggests that if you can reduce the amount of filters on what you say, then this reduces mental inhibition, and correspondingly reduces the extent to which socializing causes you fatigue.
Antidepressants are awesome. (At least they were for me.)
It’s now been about a year since I started on SSRIs. Since my prescription is about to run out, I scheduled a meeting with a psychiatrist to discuss whether to stay on them. Since my health care provider has changed, I went to my previous one and got a copy of my patient records to bring to the new one.
And wow. It’s kinda shocking to read them: my previous psychiatrist has written down things like: “Patient reports moments of despair and anguish of whether anything is going to lead to anything useful, and is worried for how long this will last. Recently there have been good days as well, but isn’t sure whether those will keep up.”
And the psychologist I spoke with has written down: “At times has very negative views of the future, afraid that will never reach his goals.”
And the thing is, reading that, I remember saying those things. I remember having those feelings of despair, of nothing ever working out. But I only remember them now, when I read through the records. I had mostly forgotten that I even did have those feelings.
When I dig my memory, I can find other such things. A friend commenting to me that, based on her observations, I seem to be roughly functional maybe about half the time. Me posting on social media that I have a constant anxiety, a need to escape, being unable to really even enjoy any free time I have. A feeling that taking even a major risk for the sake of feeling better would be okay, because I didn’t really have all that much to lose. Having regular Skype sessions with another friend, and feeling bad because he seemed to be getting a lot of things done, and my days just seemed to pass by without me managing to make much progress on anything.
All of that had developed so gradually and over the years that it had never really even occurred to me that it wasn’t normal. And then, after I got the antidepressants, those helped me get back on my feet, and then things gradually improved until I no longer even remembered the depths of what I had thought was normal, a year back.
Change blindness. It’s a thing.
For a less anecdotal summary on the effects of SSRIs, see Scott Alexander’s SSRIs: Much More Than You Wanted to Know for a comprehensive look at the current studies.
One interesting thing that I noticed about Google’s DeepDream algorithm (which you might also know as “that thing making all pictures look like psychedelic trips“) is that it seems to increase the image quality. For instance, my current Facebook profile picture was ran through DD and looks sharper than the original, which was relatively fuzzy and grainy.
If you know how DD works, this is not too surprising in retrospect. The algorithm, similar to the human visual system, works by first learning to recognize simple geometric shapes, such as (possibly curvy) lines. Then it learns higher-level features combining those lower-level features, like learning that you can get an eyeball by combining lines in a certain way. The DD algorithm looks for either low- or high-level features and strengthens them.
Lines in a low-quality image are noisy versions of lines in a high-quality image. The DD algorithm has learned to “know” what lines “should” look like, so if you run it on the low-level setting, it takes anything possible that could be interpreted as a high-quality (possibly curvy) line and makes it one. Of course, what makes this fun is that it’s overly aggressive and also adds curvy lines that shouldn’t actually be there, but it wouldn’t necessarily need to do that. Probably with the right tweaking, you could make it into a general purpose image quality enhancer.
A very good one, since it wouldn’t be limited to just using the information that was actually in the image. Suppose you gave an artist a grainy image of a church, and asked them to draw something using that grainy picture as a reference. They could use that to draw a very detailed and high-quality picture of a church, because they would have seen enough churches to imagine what the building in the grainy image should look like in real life. A neural net trained on a sufficiently large dataset of images would effectively be doing the same.
Suddenly, even if you were using a cheap and low-quality camera to take your photos, you could make them all look like high-quality ones. Of course, the neural net might be forced to invent some details, so your processed photos might differ somewhat from actual high-quality photos, but it would often be good enough.
But why stop there? We’ve already established that the net could use its prior knowledge of the world to fill in details that aren’t necessarily in the original picture. After all, it’s doing that with all the psychedelic pictures. The next version would be a network that could turn sketches into full-blown artwork.
Just imagine it. Maybe you’re making a game, and need lots of art for it, but can’t afford to actually pay an artist. So you take a neural net, feed to it a large dataset of the kind of art you want. Then you start making sketches that aren’t very good, but are at least recognizable as elven rangers or something. You give that to the neural net and have it fill in the details and correct your mistakes, and there you go!
If NN-generated art would always have distinctive recognizable style, it’d probably quickly become seen as cheap and low status, especially if it wasn’t good at filling in the details. But it might not acquire that signature style, depending on how large of a dataset was actually needed for training it. Currently deep learning approaches tend to require very large datasets, but as time goes on, possibly you could do with less. And then you could get an infinite amount of different art styles, simply by combining any number of artists or art styles to get a new training set, feeding that to a network, and getting a blend of their styles to use. Possibly people might get paid doing nothing but just looking for good combinations of styles, and then selling the trained networks.
Using neural nets to generate art would be limited to simple 2D images at first, but you could imagine it getting to the point of full-blown 3D models and CGI eventually.
And yes, this is obviously going to be used for porn as well. Here’s a bit of a creepy thing: nobody will need to hack the iCloud accounts of celebrities in order to get naked pictures of them anymore. Just take the picture of any clothed person, and feed it to the right network, and it’ll probably be capable of showing you what that picture would look like if the person was naked. Or associated with one of any number of kinks and fetishes.
It’s interesting that for all the talk about robots stealing our jobs, we were always assuming that the creative class would basically be safe. Not necessarily so.
How far are we from that? Hard to tell, but I would expect at least the image quality enhancement versions to pop up very soon. Neural nets can already be trained on text corpuses and generate lots of novel text that almost kind of makes sense. Magic cards, too. I would naively guess image enhancement to be an easier problem than actually generating sensible text (which is something that seems AI-complete). And we just got an algorithm that can take two images of a scene and synthesize a third image from a different point of view, to name just the latest fun image-related result from my news feed. But then I’m not an expert on predicting AI progress (few if any people are), so we’ll see.
EDITED TO ADD: On August 28th, less than two months after the publication of this article, the news broke of an algorithm that could learn to copy the style of an artist.
In the spirit of Non-Violent Communication, I’ve today tried to pay more attention to my thoughts and notice any judgments or labels that I apply to other people that are actually disguised indications of my own needs.
The first one that I noticed was this: within a few weeks I’ll be a visiting instructor at a science camp, teaching things to a bunch of teens and preteens. I was thinking of how I’d start my lessons, pondered how to grab their attention, and then noticed myself having the thought, “these are smart kids, I’m sure they’ll give me a chance rather than be totally unruly from the start”.
Two judgements right there: “smart” and “unruly”. Stopped for a moment’s reflection. I’m going to the camp because I want the kids to learn things that I feel will be useful for them, yes, but at the same time I also have a need to feel respected and appreciated. And I feel uncertain of my ability to get that respect from someone who isn’t already inclined to view me in a favorable light. So in order to protect myself, I’m labelling kids as “smart” if they’re willing to give me a chance, implying that if I can’t get through to some particular one, then it was really their fault rather than mine. Even though they might be uninterested in what I have to say for reasons that have nothing to do with smarts, like me just making a boring presentation.
Ouch. Okay, let me reword that original thought in non-judgemental terms: “these are kids who are voluntarily coming to a science camp and who I’ve been told are interested in learning, I’m sure they’ll be willing to listen at least to a bit of what I have to say”.