It reminded me of my own habit of logging my pour-over coffee brews. For months I saved every variable about every cup, imagining that one day I'd analyze that data and arrive at the perfect recipe.
I never once looked at the data. Eventually I realized that I'd rather learn by just paying close attention to this cup, and using it to change my approach for the next cup.
Overanalyzing everything loses some of the "magic". I drink tea, but I assume there's a similar sort of zen-like ritual to the whole process. That's somewhat it odds with turning the whole thing into a science experiment.
Granted, some of that is a projection of positivity onto what is just another simply addictive substance, but I digress.
A lot of tasks in life have elements of this though, including creative thinking and flow-state work which continually logging and categorizing can somewhat interrupt.
In your case I'd consider doing a 1-off analysis of "the perfect cup", with full data collection for a couple of weeks. Then analyze it, distill it down, and extract the lesson and conclusions. Then go back to the more organic method, and hopefully the cup is a little better. Win win.
As some other comments have mentioned, there's a streak of obsessiveness and anxiety in the original piece. Everything doesn't need to be extensively logged, and it doesn't necessarily need to be something you do everyday. A lot of the "burden" aspect seems to be from some internal issues that the author needs to work on.
All of these approaches are just tools. They can be used with a light touch approach (maybe only very complex projects need a vigorously searchable and indexed "second brain", and most of the time a .txt file in a simple daily log that takes no more than 2 minutes per day is more than enough, etc). And I know, those two approaches don't perfectly interface with one another, but creating an all-encompassing perfect system is an exercise and futility, and if that's the goal, then no wonder it's a massive cause of anxiety.
I vividly remember playing Genesis in my living room as a kid when my parents were having friends over from out of town. My dad and his friend came in after a couple beers and my dad explained what I was playing. His friend knew all about Genesis already: "We've got the Sega Channel. I play 50 games a year!" I remember being very fascinated until he started laughing, which to me signaled that he was pulling my leg. I spent the next 30 or so years thinking the "Sega Channel" was a dumb joke from an inebriated friend of my dad's. Until today.
Looking back, maybe my dad nudged him to change the subject so that I wouldn't spend the next month begging for a subscription.
I agree with you. It comes down to risks vs benefits, and I feel that for a huge number of people that aren't predisposed to addiction, that don't need to drink to the point of blacking out, etc., it may very well be worth it.
I know that my "principled" refusal to drink in my younger years made socializing a lot harder and just generally put a barrier between myself and my peers. Of course, a stronger person could overcome those challenges without alcohol, but that seems like a Herculean task for someone who's already shy and lacking self-esteem.
Reminds me of the fatalities in Mortal Kombat growing up. All the regular moves were in the manual, but IIRC the fatalities were not. It was a form of secret knowledge, and it was really cool if you knew one. Granted, this was right before the Internet-connected home computer became ubiquitous.
GameFAQs very quickly democratized game knowledge the way Wikipedia did for general knowledge a handful of years later. I learned the infinite 1up stair trick in Mario[0] from a sibling before that, but had the most fun with stuff I could look up.
I attended, and one thing I learned is that being good at giving talks is often more important than the subject matter of the talk. It's all about keeping it slow and digestible and making sure you don't lose your audience. "Computational Origami" is an example of a talk I loved because of how well it was executed, not necessarily because of the subject matter.
The rules took a while to get used to, but after a couple games I was hooked! You start to get a feel for what works and what doesn't, and it's not quite the same as Scrabble and similar games. Unique and challenging -- great work!
I never knew pizza rolls had such history. I assumed they were just an obscure and unremarkable snack before their breakout role in Mr. Plinkett's Star Wars prequel reviews.
The "unattractive slobs" bit seems a bit excessive to me, but I absolutely agree with your main point: the issues are indeed respect and intention. As the professor describes it, it sounds like the perpetrators of this "prank" are turning this class into their own romantic playground without regard for their classmates' wishes. Their "help" comes under false pretenses. They seem to think their dating lives are more important than the education of their classmates. There's a fundamental disrespect and a bit of -- sorry to say it -- misogyny there.
An extreme example, I know, but I can't help but think of the movie Audition.
It reminded me of my own habit of logging my pour-over coffee brews. For months I saved every variable about every cup, imagining that one day I'd analyze that data and arrive at the perfect recipe.
I never once looked at the data. Eventually I realized that I'd rather learn by just paying close attention to this cup, and using it to change my approach for the next cup.
It feels like a more human, living knowledge.