I wanted to share a story about how I am socially incompetent in any context involving males and saying something that isn't a giant pile of shitcock, because last Friday was Cal Q&A's fundraiser for their conference, and something like the following may or may not have happened:

Person A: Hey, *shouldertouch, smile*
Me: WHAT?
Person A: somethingsomethingsomething
Me: OH, AM I IN YOUR WAY? SORRY! *aimless laughing at nothing in particular while scooting out of the way*
Person A: No, no, you're fine. *smile*
Me: UH, OKAY *flail flail flail hit-you-in-the-teeth-with-my-thrashing-arms* omg sry sry sry

This event kind of brought me back to high school, in which, though this may be hard for some of you that know me to believe, I was even more awkward and horrible than I am now.

In 11th grade I'd decided that I didn't know what to say people. When people talked about me, they'd say, "Oh, I don't know Robert very well, whenever I say hi to him he just runs away." Should you ask most of my high school class about me today, they would still say this.


I call this the ROBERT ANGle (made complete by the worrisome hairless spot).

I was told by my father that it was perhaps time to do something differently or else everyone would think I was prickly and unpleasant. Being the sort of person that I was, I decided that the best course of action would be to get lessons of some sort. So, I asked my dear friend Darbee, who went to school with me but whom I knew solely from LJ, to teach me how to make conversation. Needless to say, there is a very good reason why conversation schools don't exist: usually, people that are bad at conversation don't like to talk.

(This is one of those precious photos I have of Darbee and I making cookies in various awful shapes many many years later. I am the one on the left being prickly and unpleasant.)

I mean, what the hell, unless I wanted something from someone, why would I want to talk to them? srsly, wtf is this.

Anyway. Many hours later, I learned the two golden rules of conversation, which were, essentially, "talk about teachers, or ask people questions that make them talk about themselves." This was something that probably should have happened when I was in grade school, because that is the time in which you are supposed to become properly socialized (but I took a lot of sick days, so maybe that was it.)

So, I worked at it, and now, I'm currently able to grunt out a few sentences at people and I try my very best not to run away, and most of the time I don't. I'm thinking that eventually I'll figure out how to do this with top 40s or house/trance (but not hip-hop because hip-hop is awful, I'm sorry) playing in the background and odd surges of hormones going on, because partynight social cues shouldn't be any different. They're just something to be learned.

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Dealing with people was difficult for me. Why? The Celticist in me says it's because there's no fundamental tribal network in place that enforces alliances and interaction. The psychoanalyst in me would say that it's because I have body image issues. The wiqaable in me says that culturally there's something different about Asian socialization. The cognitive scientist in me, however, wants to talk about brains.

I present to you now, this wonderful TED video by Temple Grandin, who is an Aspergers/Autism activist.

Her video is titled, "The world needs all kinds of minds," and what in particular I took away from her talk was her distinction between the social mind and the thinking mind. In a nutshell, the socially oriented mind would focus holistically on dynamic social situations and stimulation, whereas the thinking mind would focus on facts and analysis of details.

1. Are these two types of thinking distinct?

There are probably a million different ways to separate brain functions and motivations. Is learning facts different from learning social cues? I would argue no, not really. For a wad of my half-baked cog sci, click here. What distinguishes the two are the types of rewards achieved from each mode of thought. I was an intelligent kid, but something fundamentally changed once I'd decided that I would have to interact with people. Behaviorally, social thought is a different mode of thinking, as it motivates your actions in a completely different way.

2. What does it mean for us?

Navigating any identity isn't something that's easy. Not to overgeneralize, but at least my Q&A experience fundamentally puts these two types of thinking at odds. To grow up on a steady diet of family-values, high educational achievement and nonsexuality in an environment full of anything but is not only stressful but also further pushes us to make a more polarized choice in one direction or the other. What I'd recommend to whoever's in charge of everything is to encourage as much learning as possible before puberty, or arresting the process of puberty until you can become a useful member of society. Whatever crippling emotional damage you undergo then won't interfere with the fact that you'll at least be smart. (Disclaimer: this may end in teenagers creating death rays and killing us all for the lulz)

3. How are you going to fill this third bullet point?

To live in a landscape unshaped by some rippling movement, some shuddering exaltation or exhalation. I've been taught and tricked, because it feels good, so so good to see a pretty, have a pretty talk to you, be satisfied through the easy stimulus--sensation. I wish I were brilliant, I wish I could muster silence, be moved by something other than love of man.

To end on an ornery note, anyone that says non-platonic-love-between-two-people is the best thing in the world is a wanker who will not stop the next comet/meteor/whatever that hits Earth from killing us. He or she might procreate and spawn something good, though. Who knows.