"Some of my Facebook 'friends'—that is, distant acquaintances—are political radicals: here's a picture of the words 'KILL COPS' spraypainted on the ground, with five 'Likes.' It would be psychologically interesting to know what that feels like."

"Huh."

"'Weird' really isn't as useful of a category as I typically think it is. These radicals are outcasts from the society that they want to remake, whereas lots of people in our crowd have mainstream jobs and power. And yet I'm usually inclined to think of us as 'weirder,' because destroying capitalism and the corporate state is comparatively easier to explain."

"Is it more common?"

"That probably depends on exactly where we draw the boundaries around social circles? Our group of core supporters is tiny, but the group of people who've read Ray Kurzweil and approved is pretty big. And no doubt I don't have a good model of what the smartest and most serious radicals believe, just as they have no idea what we believe."

"Yeah."

"Smashing capitalism also looks more straightforward; it's not clear what a transhumanist analogue of the Occupy movement would do exactly. 'Let's all go spend eight years studying bioinformatics! Death to itself!'"

If you shouldn't make lemonade, then life hasn't given you lemons.

Do you ever have trouble reconciling your social role of "ordinary college student at a mediocre state university" with your secret identity as junior member of an elite conspiracy to take over the world?

Yeah, me neither.

For five years I've known that at some point I need to stop shouting, "the Authorities lied to me; why why why why did they lie to me?!" and start saying, "Okay, so extant social institutions are flawed in knowable ways, and my parents and teachers didn't tell me. Given my current state of information, this shouldn't actually be surprising, so let's stop crying about it and get on with the whole world optimization thing."

But I don't know how to make the switch; after five years, I still don't know how to break clean. It's so much easier to wallow in the pain. Maybe some amount of wallowing was even justified, this time five years ago. But now, I clearly have much better things to do with my life.

Hard Truths from Soft Cats opines that

Your flaws don't make you beautiful or unique. They make you flawed.

While I agree re beauty, technically, your flaws actually do make you unique: the number of ways in which one can be flawed is vastly larger than the number of ways in which one can be perfect; the probability that someone else would turn out to be damaged in exactly the same way you are, is negligible.

It's just that uniqueness is overrated.

The other day while rehearsing my arguments about how currently-existing social institutions are obviously insane, it became more salient that there's also no clear way to fix anything on a large scale. My perspective on How to Do Things Better is the idiosyncratic result of five years of my thinking; even if my vision is in the 99th percentile of Arbitrary People's Idiosyncratic Visions of How to Do Things Better (and everyone thinks that about herself, so don't take my word for it), it's not very transferable.

What makes a true story inspirational? I think people usually use that word to describe happy stories, stories that make us think that the world is a better place than we previously thought. But sometimes I want to use it to describe sad stories that remind us that the world is far worse than just the parts of it we're used to seeing firsthand, stories about innocent people being hurt by arbitrary causes. It's inspirational in the sense of a call to action, a reminder that there's still important work to be done in the world: I can't solve this particular problem, but there's a reference class of people containing me (reasonably intelligent, reasonably ambitious people, striving to become more effective) who can help fix a reference class of problems including this one—and that is a sacred responsibility that must not be betrayed. Or however you translate folderol like "sacred responsibility" and "must not be betrayed" into something more basic (Bayes-ic?).

I agree that it would be wildly out of character to learn JavaScript before Haskell, but life is not a story.

"Gee, Brain, what do you want to do tonight?"

"The same thing we do every night, Pinky—the Right Thing to Do Given Current Info and Preferences!"

Writers and mathematicians and programmers (&c.) can work on whatever they want with equipment that's easy for individuals to purchase. Architects and particle physicists and psychologists (&c.) need to hustle for clients or fill out a dozen grant applications just to be allowed to breathe—how do they bear it?