They put this anti-glare coating on the windows at work. Looks like the goddam apocalypse. Freaks me out every time I pass. On the street it’s so hot I like to stick my hands out, literally feel the heat. Bakes off the top of my hands. Feels almost nice just outta the A/C. I don’t know what’s happening anymore. Try not to. Trying to work, to hold what’s left of my psyche together. I used to think the singers were being melodramatic, the movies waxing lyrical. They weren’t. There are certainly unique states of crazy within this human condition, and love is 9,000 of them. I’m in serious meetings and I can’t get certain images out of my head. I can feel the pain congeal and fluctuate in the air, sit there demanding immediate attention. But I’m just staring into space. Bloody pointless that, try to put something in front, some video, some media. Just to keep the gears turning, provide some grist for the will. It’s hot in Colombo. Got stuff to do.
I’m sitting at my desk. I bought these glasses for Rs 1,500 at VisionCare and I was quite impressed with my frugal self. Lately, however, the paint is peeling and I have silver frames that I’m not too happy about. So I’m sitting in office, and Girl Friday just procured me a permanent marker after weeks of paper work. I remember when I got a garbage can, after 3 months. That was sweet. Anyways, I get smart and decide to permanent marker my glasses black again. It looks pretty bad and I feel pretty dumb so I stop. About 20 minutes later I decide that my glasses are dirty, and I wipe them on my shirt. Of course I can’t see while wiping my glasses cause I’m Bunsen. Put them back on and see, to my dismay, that I’ve blactated all over my white shirt. Chagrin. Go to a meeting in the metaphorical upstairs. Go home, look in the mirror and realize that I also have marker on my face.
They played a computer game that paid real cash to look for money behind three doors on the screen. After they opened a door by clicking on it, each subsequent click earned a little money, with the sum varying each time.
As each player went through the 100 allotted clicks, he could switch rooms to search for higher payoffs, but each switch used up a click to open the new door. The best strategy was to quickly check out the three rooms and settle in the one with the highest rewards.
Even after students got the hang of the game by practicing it, they were flummoxed when a new visual feature was introduced. If they stayed out of any room, its door would start shrinking and eventually disappear.
They should have ignored those disappearing doors, but the students couldnâ€™t. They wasted so many clicks rushing back to reopen doors that their earnings dropped 15 percent. Even when the penalties for switching grew stiffer â€” besides losing a click, the players had to pay a cash fee â€” the students kept losing money by frantically keeping all their doors open.
â€œClosing a door on an option is experienced as a loss, and people are willing to pay a price to avoid the emotion of loss,â€ Dr. Ariely says. In the experiment, the price was easy to measure in lost cash. In life, the costs are less obvious â€” wasted time, missed opportunities. If you are afraid to drop any project at the office, you pay for it at home.
I played the game and I predictably suck. Certainly holds true in life. The examples they cite are mostly work. I myself take on a lot of projects that I end up not having time for. Projects with potential that are never realized, but I’m so reluctant to let that potential go. The more interesting implications are for relationships of course. I suppose a lost relationship is a rapidly shrinking door. You see it pass and you just wonder. You think about competition and you wonder a whole lot more. Those doors really do close, and no more clicking. I’m still trying to figure out the difference between love and plain old stupid. I’m thinking love just tries the same thing for a longer, perhaps infinite, period of time. That’s also a working definition of insanity.