Related to the thread on Who am I?
The one thing that causes people with aptitude, ability, and ambition to become better than themselves isn't talent, or genius, or even luck, said one book I read recently. The distinguishing attribute is "deliberate practice." The perceptiveness about seeking out what I haven't done before, or done well before, overcoming inertia about doing it, and agreeing with myself that I have permission to make bad art--that's "deliberate practice." The only allowable test is the existence test: does this thing exist by exhibiting what I haven't done before?
I am still staring at the fully loaded & sealed envelope with my writing colony application, my cheque, and what passes for my achievements. I can justify not sending it, the budget really can't afford extras right now. As someone who seeks signs and omens from events to help focus, a favorite radio show did counsel, "never trade your soul for money," and I thought, I'll send this envelope. But I have not, yet; I'm still in the wind.
Applying deliberate practice for improving my writing means trying out the suggestions already made to me, using what's useful, and throwing out the rest.
I did start reading Social Psychology for Dummies (free e-book), and I'm already afraid of what I'm learning, as some of my unexamined assumptions start to collapse. Too useful to put down, and too much to absorb all at once. This is my first lesson: the ability to read and understand can be eclipsed by the content of the matter. I've temporarily switched to the S.P. for Dummies cheat sheet to ease the emotional load, but the following sticky ideas are already making me restive:
Left: mask design exercise for designing an electrical circuit. Right: "Color of thought" image showing neural connections, from entry I'll Show You How I Think-And How You Do.
The one thing that causes people with aptitude, ability, and ambition to become better than themselves isn't talent, or genius, or even luck, said one book I read recently. The distinguishing attribute is "deliberate practice." The perceptiveness about seeking out what I haven't done before, or done well before, overcoming inertia about doing it, and agreeing with myself that I have permission to make bad art--that's "deliberate practice." The only allowable test is the existence test: does this thing exist by exhibiting what I haven't done before?
I am still staring at the fully loaded & sealed envelope with my writing colony application, my cheque, and what passes for my achievements. I can justify not sending it, the budget really can't afford extras right now. As someone who seeks signs and omens from events to help focus, a favorite radio show did counsel, "never trade your soul for money," and I thought, I'll send this envelope. But I have not, yet; I'm still in the wind.
Applying deliberate practice for improving my writing means trying out the suggestions already made to me, using what's useful, and throwing out the rest.
I did start reading Social Psychology for Dummies (free e-book), and I'm already afraid of what I'm learning, as some of my unexamined assumptions start to collapse. Too useful to put down, and too much to absorb all at once. This is my first lesson: the ability to read and understand can be eclipsed by the content of the matter. I've temporarily switched to the S.P. for Dummies cheat sheet to ease the emotional load, but the following sticky ideas are already making me restive:
- Behavior causes attitudes. So what causes behavior? Decisions. What causes decisions? Conflict, choices. What causes conflict? Three things I can think of:
- the need to forego something desirable
- competition for something desirable
- unwillingness to give up something desirable
- My true "self" is constructed. I am the character I made up in the story of my life. Book says a self is an object that knows it exists in the world.
I find this appalling: I think I'm straining every possible nerve to make up a better story for my life, and I'm failing at it because I'm a social idiot with terrible executive function and iffy impulse control and cravings for certain things. Is this the story of my life? Not everything I do is caused by Asperger's, and yet the very material of my being is different, and even the word "I" comes of it. Which leads me to the book's exercise: complete ten sentences that begin with the words "I am..." using one adjective each. (I won't share all of mine, but I invite you to consider yours.)
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am solitary."
"I am oppressed." (seeking a similar term than "depressed")
"I am self-absorbed."
If you did your own version, look at your list while I look at mine. How many of those adjectives are physical? How many are psychological? How many express preference? My ratios were 1:8:1. Spiller and I had an exchange long ago about the difference between mind and consciousness, and these are exactly the results I'd expect from someone who thinks she is her mind.
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am _______."
"I am solitary."
"I am oppressed." (seeking a similar term than "depressed")
"I am self-absorbed."
If you did your own version, look at your list while I look at mine. How many of those adjectives are physical? How many are psychological? How many express preference? My ratios were 1:8:1. Spiller and I had an exchange long ago about the difference between mind and consciousness, and these are exactly the results I'd expect from someone who thinks she is her mind.
- The answers to the exercise change situationally; there is no "true self." I can feel the inside of my head start to come apart at this, as the book describes experiments about what people do when they think they're being watched: they think they are showing more of their "true nature" but they are also acting a part. I'm still wrestling with how this parses for an aspie trying to drop a mask. Is it masks all the way down to the circuit board?
Left: mask design exercise for designing an electrical circuit. Right: "Color of thought" image showing neural connections, from entry I'll Show You How I Think-And How You Do.
