Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: sunken cost fallacy

When do you know you’ve reached your limits, part three

I have one more post in me to talk about limits, sunken cost fallacy, and American toxic exceptionalism. Yes, I know it’s American exceptionalism and toxic positivity, but they are one and the same to me. It’s not that I don’t think you shouldn’t strive to do well–wait. Let’s stop there a second. I have to qualify it by saying that it’s good to try to improve yourself. That’s what I’m doing with the different weapon forms. But, in other ways, I have no desire. Like jobwise, I just don’t care. Then, there’s my personal flaws. I want to improve some of them, but others, I have just accepted. I know I’m not changing them, and that is perfectly fine.

The problem is when people feel like everything you do has to somehow work as an improvement factor. Like taking your kids to the park, you should walk briskly so you get in some exercise. It’s beacuse in America, most people are so busy. They need to squeeze in exercise whenever and wherever they can. So many Mom magazines includes ways to use your baby in your exercising.

Which, I mean. I’m sure it’s practical, but not every moment has to be a learning/teaching/exercise moment. This is something I have learned with Taiji. (And now, to a lesser extent, Bagua.) I chose it because it was the lazy person’s martial art. My teacher expressly tells us that the purpose is to exert as little energy as possible in order to have as maximum an output of energy as possible. She talked at length about how bad the American ‘give 110%’ mentality was, and I slowly came to agree with her.

I had a classmate back when I first started who told me an aggravating story. He said that every spring, he would feel inspired to run. Now, mind, he did nothing to prepare for that throughout the year. He would just go out and run like ten miles on the first day of spring that he felt was warm enough to run outside. Inevitably, he would pull a muscle and then not be able to run for the rest of the spring. He did this year after year, and then was always surprised when he injured himself on his first day out.

It’s so American, though. The belief that you have to hurt yourself when you exercise, otherwise you’re not exercising hard enough. “No pain, no gain” is one credo. So is, “Give 110%.” The latter really annoyed me beceause you literally cannot give 110%. I know it’s just a saying , but it’s always bothered me, anyway. It’s been known for quite some time that you cannot give your all at all times. Not just that–it’s not optimal to always push to do your best. Let me draaaaaag out another hoary chestnut–“Don’t let perfection be the enemy of good.”


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When something is truly too hard, part two

I want to talk more about where is the line between giving it your all and sunken cost fallacy. Here is my post from yesterday in which I was talking about my struggles with the Double Fan Form. I think back to when I laughingly assumed it would take me three months, tops, to teach it to myself.

Remember when I said yesterday that there were two results from the Dunning-Kruger study? One is so well-known, it’s called the Dunning-Kruger Effect. In a nutshell, that posited that people who were really bad at something vastly overestimated their skill and didn’t understand how much worse they were at it than other people. People basically boil it down to people who are bad at something think they’re great, which, of course, is heavily dependent upon different demographics.

The second result they found is the other side of the same coin–that peoaple who are really good at something underestimate how much better they are at it than other people are. Again, that’s vastly simplified, but it’ll do for my  purpose. Which is, most of the time, I am the latter. I always think I suck at something, no matter what. If I can do it, anyone can. Or rather, that’s for things I know I’m no better than mediocre at.

That would include FromSoft games. I am horrible at them, and I think  that if I can finish them, anyone can (within reason, of course). It takes me twice as long to finish one for the first time as it does the most pedestrian of players. That would also include drawing, sadly. I tried to do it when I was a teenager/in my twenties, and I was very bad at it.  I saw no reason to keep trying because I suuuuuuucked at it. Could I have gotten better? Oh, yes. Did I want to put in the effort? Oh, no.

See, this is where it gets fuzzy. My brother and I have argued over the years about nature versus nurture when it comes to the creative arts. Thirty years ago, he was on the side of nurture while I was on the side of nature. That’s too simplified, though.

My brother is extremely talented in photography. I have long maintained that he could do it professionally (and he has done some side hustles as a photog). I, on the other hand, am a person of words. Writing is my thing–or at least it was. Not as sure any longer. I’m trying, and I’m hoping to find a way to break through whatever is blocking me (not a writer’s block, sadly. I would at least know how to deal with that. Even though I’ve only had it two or three times).


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Doing the Ghost of Tsushima slog

I want to expand on my aggravation for the end of the second act of Ghost of Tsushima (Sucker Punch Productions) and why I’m dragging my feet on doing the third act. In yesterday’s post, I talked about my issues with the story. Now, I want to get more into the gameplay. I’m halfway through the third act, and I’m bored. Again:

*SPOILER WARNING*

In the third act, I have to go to a bunch of different homesteads and get the piece fo armor that a famed armorer made for Khan. The armorer ran instead of giving the armor to the Mongols, but he was caught. I think he hid the pieces before getting caught or he gave them to the villagers or whatever. I don’t remember nor do I care. Each Mongol stronghold has one of the pieces of armor, so there are two reasons why I have to liberate each stronghold.

Instead of doing this, I spent several hours just wandering around and gathering supplies while I had my traveler’s outfit on. Why? Because you get a ton more resources that way. Or rather, because I have a certain charm equipped with that outfit. Instead of, say, one predator hide, I’ll get two, and then a bonus of three to four others. I wanted to max out all my armors, so this was a good way to get the money (“supplies”) needed to do so.

Which brings me to another issues with the game–though it’s not really the game’s fault. Before I get to that, though, let’s talk about Ryuzo. My childhood best friend turned betrayer. Of course I knew he was going to betray me–that was something I saw coming a mile off. However, when I confront him for that betrayal, I (as the player) find myself wanting to let him live. Not because I forgive him, but because I understand what he did. And because it’s not really his fault. And because he doesn’t really deserve to die for what he did to Jin.

Do I get that choice? Of course not. The game tells me I have to kill Ryuzo, so I reluctantly do just that. There’s a side mission in which I do not want to kill the purported baddie of that side mission, either,. but I must to finish the mission. I’m not mad about not having the choice necessarily because that’s how games go. I am just not happy with the direction of the story–that’s all.

Back to the issue of min/maxing. I love the armors of the game. They are very different from each other, and there are reasons to wear certain ones for certain situations. The traveler’s out fit is for resource gathering. The Sakai armor is for standoffs. The ghost armor is for, well, ghosting around. There is a second armor that is also good for ghosting. And another for archery.


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