Ammar Mian

(It's been a while since I've posted anything. But now I'm back to writing regularly, which feels great.)

From John Berger's Way of Seeing:

“One might simplify this by saying: men act and women appear. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. This determines not only most relations between men and women but also the relation of women to themselves. The surveyor of woman in herself is male: the surveyed female. Thus she turns herself into an object -- and most particularly an object of vision: a sight.”

When you are a white, heterosexual male, chances are you don't walk around feeling like you're being watched, observed, or looked at. When you look in the mirror, you see some approximation of yourself. This freedom frees the white, heterosexual male to observe the world without fearing it. Of course, there are exceptions, but this appears to be the default.

When you are a woman, or brown, or gay, there's a different dynamic at play.

You look in the mirror, and you don't just see yourself. You see something to be beholden. You are primarily an object of someone else's vision.

How does this happen? It starts the first time you walk through an airport security check and realize you're being treated differently than others. It starts when you and your friends are going out in the city and get catcalled and followed by a group of men. It starts with one cop pulling you over for a rolling stop at a stop sign, or a loved one looking at you weird for how you dress, or an epithet screamed out of the window of a passing vehicle.

So when you look in the mirror, you aren't even gazing at yourself with your own eyes. It's a bit dissociative where your gaze becomes the gaze of the person who will be looking at you.

The strange thing that happens is that, over time, you may begin to similarly objectify anyone who looks like you. When you see your own "kind", you instinctively objectify because that's what you do to yourself. It creates this weird self-limiting behavior at the scale of entire communities - blacks/browns/women all judging the hell out of each other silently and then feeling judged silently by their own. It's why we see our own "kind" giving us side-eye, but then we realize we're very unconsciously doing the same thing to them. And if we aren't careful with our sense of self, we very naturally conform or force others to conform to a narrow set of expectations.

Meanwhile, observe a random white dude walking by on the street- he has the freedom to blend into the background. He isn't regularly the object of anyone's constant eye, especially not yours, and so you can choose to see or not see him, it won't matter much to him. (Of course, this dynamic flips to some degree when the same white dude finds himself in Japan or in Zambia.)

When you're so conditioned to the feeling of being looked at, you change the way you behave, and you change the way you view yourself. This all happens so subconsciously that either you're actively fighting/overcoming it, or you're passively succumbing to it. 

From Kevin Simler's essay Wealth: The Toxic Byproduct:

"[...] money spent on consumption is toxic — value-destroying. This is true even in our daily lives, without the literal magic window. Every time we spend money on a yacht or an iPhone or a nice jacket or even food, we're taking something of value from society and using it for our own purposes [...]

As long as someone's money is tucked away in his bank account, we're safe. But the minute it starts to leak out, via consumption, we all become that much worse off [...]

Earning money (via production) is good for others. Spending it (via consumption) is bad."

"A reinforcer is anything that, occurring in conjunction with an act, tends to increase the probability that the act will occur again."

From Jan Gehl's Life Between Buildings:

"When outdoor areas are of poor quality, only strictly necessary activities occur.

When outdoor areas are of high quality, necessary activities take place with approximately the same frequency -- though they clearly tend to take a longer time, because the physical conditions are better. In addition, however, a wide range of optional activities will also occur because place and situation now invite people to stop, sit, eat, play, and so on.

In streets and city spaces of poor quality, only the bare minimum of activity takes place. People hurry home.

In a good environment, a completely different, broad spectrum of human activities is possible."

• The organization as a plant

• The city as a plant

• The child as a plant

• Technology as a plant

• The world as a fractal series of plants watering plants watering plants, and so on.

From Elizabeth Andoh's Kansha: Celebrating Japan's Vegan and Vegetarian Traditions:

"When I bemoaned the need to wait a full year before indulging in [certain foods] again, a Japanese friend taught me three words: hashiri, shun, and nagori.

"Hashiri are those eagerly awaited foods you finally find at market: the early spring peas, small and tender ... or autumn's first wild mushrooms that hint of the woods."

"Shun describes that magic moment when a food is at its peak of flavor and abundant. It is biting into a sugary-sweet corn, bought from a roadside stand on a blazing hot summer's day."

"Nagori is culinary regret ... buying eggplant one more time, late in autumn, knowing they can't be as tasty as the ones stewed with young ginger during the summer rains."

From investor Howard Marks:

"The correctness of a decision can’t be judged from the outcome. Nevertheless, that's how people assess it. A good decision is one that’s optimal at the time it’s made, when the future is by definition unknown. Thus, correct decisions are often unsuccessful, and vice versa.” 

"First-level thinking says, 'It's a good company; let's buy the stock.' Second-level thinking says, 'It's a good company, but everyone thinks it's a great company, and it's not. So the stock's overrated and overpriced; let's sell."

"First-level thinking is simplistic and superficial, and just about everyone can do it (a bad sign for anything involving an attempt at superiority. [...] Second-level thinking is deep, complex and convoluted."

"[...] The bottom line is that first-level thinkers see what's on the surface, react to it simplistically, and buy or sell on the basis of their reactions."

From investor Paul Graham:

"Keep your identity small.

[...] If people can't think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, the best plan is to let as few things into your identity as possible. [...]

Most people reading this will already be fairly tolerant. But there is a step beyond thinking of yourself as x but tolerating y: not even to consider yourself an x. The more labels you have for yourself, the dumber they make you."

There's a small list of thinkers whom I pay especially close attention to. These people include: Michael Lewis, Malcolm Gladwell, Nassim Taleb, Paul Graham, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Kendrick Lamar, and a few more.

Venkatesh Rao is also on this list. He recently shared via social media a great African proverb:

"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

• Dealing with powerful, deep-pocketed people who don't want the idea to succeed.
• Responding to cycle-determined media coverage (they'll love you, then hate you, then love you).
• Creating space for more people to join without overly diluting.
• Maintaining the heart and soul of the movement.
• Letting the movement flourish in the absence of the founder.
• Avoiding too much internal politicking and turmoil.

From Daniel Coyle's The Talent Code:

"The sweet spot: that productive, uncomfortable terrain located just beyond our current abilities, where our reach exceeds our grasp. Deep practice is not simply about struggling; it's about seeking a particular struggle, which involves a cycle of distinct actions."

1. Aim big and audacious
   
   I think people (myself included) get scared of aiming ridiculously high. We overvalue our current selves but undervalue our potential future selves. So what happens is that we set goals that are high, but within arms reach.
   
   And when things are within arms reach, we might not be hellbent enough on attaining them. Whereas if our goals are absurd, we have to re-evaluate whether we really want to achieve them, and if we do, then we get serious. If not, then that's fine-- time to find something you are willing to go pie-in-the-sky for.
   
   
2. Long-term strategy beats short-term optimizations
   
   The LSAT has three sections: logic games, logical reasoning, and reading comprehension.
   
   The logic games section can be mastered in a few short weeks with the right suite of tactics and tricks. Many people spend way too much time working on this section.
   
   The logical reasoning and reading comprehension sections are a bitch. They are mentally draining and they require an intense level of focus, concentration, and skill. To master these sections, you can't just stumble into a silver-bullet tactic. You need a long-term strategy (reading science journals, retaking old sections in loud coffee shops, etc). Performance on these sections often differentiate the average test-taker from the top 20%, and the top 20% from the top 1%.
   
   
3. Obsession with metrics/data often leads to shortcuts
   
   There's a saying that goes like this: "When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure." I grew so obsessed with my score that, during early practice tests, I would flip to the back and double-check my answers. This obviously inflated my scores artificially. Bad.
   
   
4. Hoping for a fluke is a recipe for deep disappointment
   
   "Well, let's see how it goes. I might have a good day today." Said no elite performer ever. There's a high degree of determinism whenever you see masters do what they do. The Jordans of the world don't rely on having a lucky day.
   
   
5. Before simplicity, things get complicated
   
   During my time studying for the LSAT, I eventually hit a giant wall. For about 2 months, no matter how hard I tried to figure out what the problem was, my scores weren't improving. I kept exhaustive and detailed track of the type of questions I was struggling with, desperately trying to find a pattern somewhere in there. Things got messy, complicated, frustrating. And then it slowly started clicking and making more sense. I had to wade through immense complexity to get to simple.

This post might only be helpful to people who are studying for the LSAT soon. Whatever.

From David Heinemeier Hansson aka DHH's talk at Stanford, Unlearn Your MBA:

"I have a funny example of how bad things can go when your brain has become all mushy with all this MBA bullshit.

This is Domino's CEO David Brandon talking a few weeks ago:

'The weakness in our value chain with the customer was really in our core product.'

...What?? What does that even mean? Well, I tried to translate that into human, and what I came up with was:

'Let's be honest, our pizza used to suck. I'm sorry. I swear the new ones will be better.'"

From Christopher Alexander’s The Timeless Way of Building:

“Each one of us has, somewhere in his heart, the dream to make a living world, a universe.”

Roman Mars produces an amazing radio show called 99% Invisible. I think there’ve only been a few episodes I haven’t been fully enthralled by.

There’s a theme that recurs (purposefully or accidentally) in his podcasts. These are stories of the human response to architecture that man has designed.

Crammed flop houses in the Bowery neighborhood of NYC.
Questions about tables and chairs (why are tables so low? why are chairs so perpendicular?).
Ugly buildings on college campuses (ironically many of which house architecture programs).

I listen to these podcasts as I walk around NYC’s East Village; I spot the hulking Lower East Side projects that Roman talks about.

Or after the episode on street width, I really do wonder: “Does the combination of narrow streets and tall buildings make me unhappy?”

Lately, 99% Invisible spurred another thought that I can’t seem to unthink. Why are our cities so concrete? What does that say about our relationship with our world?

Many of the things I see in NYC are awe-inspiring when looked at in isolation. But taken together with everything else, there seems to be a dullness, a drabness, that remains, regardless of how vibrant and noisy and lively the streets are during brunch time.

There’s so much damn concrete. It’s as if we designed our cities to escape the natural world. Trees, grass, critters, parks — these are mere amenities confined to neatly packaged squares. 

Occasionally, this makes us overtly antsy. So we go to the beach with some friends to unwind and take in the calming, intimidating beauty of the world. Then we complain about bug bites.

The concrete that surrounds us has probably developed a toxic relationship between us and the world. Instead of trying to harness nature so that we and it can coexist, we suppress it and, in its stead, try to approximate it with our toys.

Replace wood with concrete, gravel and sand with pavement.

It’s seems lazy! What if instead of concrete, we had streets dominated by trees; roads and sidewalks that crunched naturally under our feet; filtration systems that weren’t just a series of underground pipes?

I think we’d be a happier lot. Our innovations would look much different, maybe even better than what we see now.

I say all this to try to shake off my own city-induced neuroticism. I'm a (slowly) aspiring hippie.