I’ve been thinking about American exceeptionalism and how damaging it is. In this specific case, I want to talk about the difference between confidence and arrogance. There have been studies that show that women (and AFAB, I presume) often underestimate their abilities. Or rather, they don’t apply to jobs that they consider out of their reach whereas men do. That’s a gross simplification, but it’ll do for now.
Let’s talk about the Dunning-Kruger Effect (I promise you this is relevant). Everyone who has heard of it knows that it’s about people who really overestimate their own abilities and think that they are better at something (or all things) than they really are. What people don’t know, though, is the second result the researchers found. It’s that people who are really good at something (or things) vastly underestimate how much better they are at the thing than other people are.
It makes perfect sense as they both stem from the belief that (generic) you are the norm and everyone else skews towards the norm (you). In other words, it’s putting you at the center of the universe. I’m not even being angry about it because of course people will think of themselves as the norm. At least until they run into enough people who are vastly different than they are. Then, maybe, there might be a glimmer of hope. But, oftentimes, sadly, it’s just them dimissing everyone else as weird or outliers.
Do I sound bitter or pessimistic? Well, yeah. Look at the state of America right now. Why the hell wouldn’t I feel that way? The thing is, though, I have felt that for many decades. I’ve always looked at my country (and the world in general) with a jaundiced eye. It’s just how I am. I have always said that I’m a pessimist or a realist, but I had a friend in college tell me an optimist. When I protested, he pointed out that I expected the best out of people and was disappointed when I didn’t get it.
I opened my mouth to snap back, but then I closed it. Because you know what? He was right. I did expect people to do the right thing,and I was disappointed when they failed to do it. That’s what made me cynical, by the way. The fact that I thought people would do the right thing and then they didn’t. And this happened over and over again.
I, on the other hand, tended to think that I wasn’t anything special in any way and that if I could do something, other people could as well. sometimes, that’s true. Like with From games. If I can finish them, then truly anyone can. I am so bad at them. Astoundingly bad. So bad that why the fuck do I even play them? Ian and I have this argument from time to time. He says the games are exactly for people like me who can struggle with them and then feel real satisfaction when they beat the games.
Either way, I’m so bad at them that I should not play them. And I probably won’t be able to pretty soon. I’ve thought that ever since the last DLC of Dark Souls III which released in 2017. Sekiro only reinforced that feeling for me with the last boss, and the DLC of Elden Ring certainly doesn’t change my mind. I watch a group called RKG (nee Prepare to Try) play the From games, and it only underscores how terrible I am at them. I have played each From game*. Rory is the one of the three who plays the game while he’s being guided by Krupa. Gav drives the banter bus and cracks wise along the way. That is a vast simplification of the group, but it’ll do fror now.
Rory had never played this type of game when he first played Dark Souls for IGN. In fact, that was the conceit of the show. Could a total noob beat Dark Souls before Dark Souls III came out? The series became wildly popular, and they rleft IGN at the end of 2019 to form RKG. They just finished their epic Elden Ring playthrough and will be doing the DLC this winter. Rory has become really good at the games since he’s played them all and has done almost no summoning. He only plays the games for the show, and he’s leagues better than I am.
It’s astonishing to watch, really. He is his own worst enemy (he gets bored and then does wild things), and he has great reflexes.
Doing a hard turn, I was thinking about the Double Fan Form and the demo for next year. My teacher’s teacher told her he needed to know by June what I was going to do for the demo. I have already decided to do the Double Fan Form, but I was thinking more about it. Not about whether I want to do it or not, but how I have such complex emotions about it.
I have always loved the fan. It’s the first weapon I completely taught to myself. I had to do a big reteach several months later, but I can only say it was because of my medical crisis. I was optimistic in deciding five months after coming back from the dead (twice!). After that, I decided to teach myself the Double Fan Form (after much deliberation). My teacher nor my teacher’s teacher knew the form, so I had to find one on YouTube. I could not find any in the Yang style (Taiji), but there was a Chen-style 48-posture form. I saw many videos of this, so I concluded that it was the official Chen-style Double Fan Form.
Chen-style Taiji includes very deep knee bends, which was the first thing I eliminated. Optimistically, I thought it would take me three months (which was the longest it took me to learn any other form).
I was such a sweet summer child back then. I made the same mistake I made with the Saber Form. With that, I thought it would be the same as the Sword Form, but just slower movements. It was not that at all. It felt differently, moved differently, and had a whole different meaning (for the saber as opposed to the sword). I took years off from learning it, and when I went back to it, I had a whole new appreciation for it.
When I found a suitable Double Fan Form video (or three. I ended up using three to teach myself), I thought it would be like the Fan Form combined with the Double Saber Form (for having two weapons, one in each hand). Little did I know how very wrong I was.
I have more to say about it, but I’ll leave it at that for today.
*Except Demon’s Souls.