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| Weekly Post-Eds |

WP#70: Is There Too Much Advice?

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma
A featured image for Weekly Post-Ed #70 that includes a tunnel with YouTube videos stretching endlessly into the horizon.

A PEDDLER’S PARADISE

Whenever I open YouTube, I immediately close the app and mutter the same sentence, “This place is cancer.” I’ve done this the past two months, again and again closing the app after opening it, disappointed when I seek entertainment and find there isn’t any. That’s because my homepage has been infested with advice videos.

Endless, redundant, droning advice videos:

“3 Ways to Know She’s Cheating Without Having To Talk About It”

“iPad Air vs iPad Pro: Don’t Make This Mistake!”

“This One Trick Will Make You The Best Magician In History”

I don’t know if these are the actual titles of YouTube videos, but they might as well be. Advice videos permeate the content creation space, often disguised as opinions or testimonials. What’s on offer are endless suggestions of things: what to buy, how to behave, who to attract, where to go. YouTube has become a salesman’s dream; a monetized, ad-driven cyberspace that has mutated entertainment into advice and recommendation narratives. It’s a peddler’s paradise, and I’m burnt out from the constant barrage of videos promising fame and riches and love if only I implement this one simple trick…

This Weekly Post-Ed sounds like a rant—and thus far it has been—but I recently found YouTube’s preference for advice videos has led to a nosedive in personal motivation. It’s wonderful that there is so much wisdom on the internet, but the constant beaming of that advice doesn’t inspire more action. In fact, it does the opposite.

So: Has the constant availability of advice and opinion content on the internet today subdued motivation to try things?

***

HOW INFLUENTIAL IS ADVICE, REALLY?

When was the last time you followed any advice? Go ahead and post something in the comments below. I’ll wait.

I’m guessing it took a minute to think about any advice that was followed recently. There’s a reason for this. Advice that is followed occurs during a sweet spot, dependent on when the advice was offered and what the opinion was of those who received it. Sounds complicated, but I’ll break it down.

In a study by Schultze, Thomas, et al. (2015), the authors examined six experiments that measured the influence of advice when given in various circumstances. The authors, expanding on something called Advice Utilization Theory, found that when advice is too similar to the initial opinion of the person asking, it is mostly ignored. Similarly, advice that is too distant from the initial opinion of those seeking advice is also ignored.

For example:

If a meeting is scheduled for 10AM, but a coworker says, “I think the meeting is at 10:05,” you’re more likely to agree with your initial opinion: Why would a meeting take place five minutes later than what you first believed? It’s easy to ignore this suggestion since it is not convincingly different from what you first knew of the meeting, and why not go with something you personally authored?

This same idea applies to advice or opinions that are too distant from our own.

Again, if you believe a work meeting is at 10AM, but a coworker says, “I think they rescheduled the meeting for 4PM this afternoon,” the same amount of skepticism is produced. Why would a 10AM meeting be moved to late afternoon without a good reason? In the face of this opinion, you will likely discard the new information and stick to what you originally believe: The meeting is still at 10AM.

This influence of advice applies to just about anything: How to approach dating apps, which iPad is better, what is the best resort in Mexico City.

There’s one glaring issue I find with how influential advice can be (and perhaps you spotted it, too).

Being influenced by advice does not make it actionable. Or, I’d argue, even useful.

***

EXPERIENCE VS KNOWLEDGE

Lately, I’ve been watching digital illustration videos on YouTube. After one tutorial, a slew of video suggestions will pop up in my feed about how to get better at drawing quickly. So, I’ll click on a video and see what the accomplished artist has to say. There’s little to be surprised about in these testimonials: Draw and keep trying, but don’t draw too much or too little, or even with this method or that, and ultimately you must draw to your own preferences.

And here’s the kicker: I agree with everything they say. How can they be wrong—look at the results of their artwork! Clearly, these artists know what they’re talking about.

So, I log off YouTube, feeling confident about my digital illustration journey, knowing the way forward.

And I don’t draw for the rest of the day.

Why?

The advice was meaningless to me because it wasn’t earned. Just because I agree or disagree doesn’t mean that I’m going to do anything about my current circumstances. As an artist, the only result that matters is what gets on the page or the canvas or the iPad. Without that essential step, what value does advice have if I’m not drawing? There’s often no life hack for the hard work required to produce things.

The problem of too much advice, or access to it, is that we mistake the advice for the experience itself. 

Currently, this the same same issue with Artificial Intelligence. Any answer in the world can be found and easily digested thanks to AI’s ability to summarize complex information quickly. This is the major problem AI creates in classrooms. Within a few seconds, I can have a full summary of Jane Austin’s Pride & Prejudice without having to read it for an essay or quiz. In bullet point format and in simple language, everything about the novel is available. All the information I needed to pass a test I can swiftly memorize and go on my merry way.

Yes. Goody.

But a summary is not the experience of reading the book. Knowing the information without going through the process is often meaningless.

In the case of AI, it’s fine for quick memorization of facts and figures for an upcoming test, but not so much about the things we actually wish to try and get better at.

For example: I can watch video about swimming, knowing how to keep afloat and kick my legs and paddle my arms in theory, but until I get in the pool, everything I know in principle is meaningless when getting in the water.

Therein lies the value of learning something the hard way: Meaning emerges with experience.

***

IT WAS THE BEST OF ADVICE, IT WAS THE WORST OF ADVICE

The best piece of advice I ever received was, at the time, the worst advice ever received.

Shortly after my ex-wife and I separated, and a few months before the marriage was dissolved, there came an awkward period of informing everyone in my social circle of what was happening. A failing marriage isn’t something that comes up lightly; no one is trouncing around, handing out gift bags with neatly-tied ribbons and chocolates announcing, “It’s finally happening! We’re splitting up!”

News of a failing marriage comes up in the least interesting way: In my case, as a correction.

“How’s married life going, Robby?” Someone in the locker room said one night after hockey.

I had played with this same group of guys since I was a teenager. They were all jubilant when I married, happy that I had joined the ranks of the other successfully married men in the room. So, when I came clean about the true state of my marriage, 11 guys were shocked.

And 11 guys looked across the room to Tony—the only other amongst us who had been divorced.

The silence in the room was full of expectation. Surely, Tony would have sage advice from his own trials with divorce to bestow unto this unfortunate and heartsick youth.

Tony, with arms folded, like a poker player bluffing a hand of cards, looked at everyone around the room, and then to me. 

Finally, he said, “I have no advice for you.”

That was it. No further discussion. Maybe there was a comment or two about condolences, but that was all.

At first, I resented Tony’s advice. “I have no advice for you?” Did he say this because he was expected to say something and didn’t want to? Or did he truly not know what to say?

Of course, my hockey pal’s lackluster response only made me seek out all the other advice in the world. I went to therapy and read books, talked with other divorcees, and even became a private detective into the details and behaviors of my ex-wife, stringing together theories for why our marriage fell apart.

All of it proved useless. In the end, there were no answers to satisfy heartbreak and a failed marriage; there was only the journey through.

This was six years ago. After everything I learned and experienced, the only piece of advice I remember was from the locker room that night–Not because I was bitter about what I was told, but because it was the truest advice possible:

There are no life-hacks for going on the journey. The only way to know is to go through it.

I was launched on a perilous and mysterious journey through divorce that was particular to me. No advice was going to ease the process. And, I fought against that reality for many years before finding peace with it. 

Since then, I’ve known and heard of others on their own divorce journeys. And while I’ve read many books on heartbreak and relationships, on loss and grieving—all of it is decoration compared to the truth of what advice actually applies when going through it all. And beyond the essential need to recognize one is truly not alone, the only advice that applies is, cruelly:

“I have no advice for you.”

Simply because: You will find a way if you have to.

With YouTube or without.

Schultze, Thomas, et al. “Effects of Distance between Initial Estimates and Advice on Advice Utilization.” Judgment & Decision Making, vol. 10, no. 2, Mar. 2015, pp. 144–71. EBSCOhost, https://doi.org/10.1017/s1930297500003922.

***

A banner with a title: Spotify Weekly Finds.
  1. “Andrew” by M Field
  2. “The Feeling” by Sammy Rae & The Friends
  3. “Walkman” by Bad Bad Hats

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

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| Weekly Post-Eds |

WP#69: Trusting Science in the Age of Misinformation

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma
A featured image of a laptop with a science journal paper open. Weekly Post-Ed #69 is the title.

YOUR METHODS AND MINE

“You can’t trust scientists—they’re just as corrupt as the news.”

My ex-girlfriend said this on our fourth date. I finished explaining what one of my previous college classes was about, Research Methods. It’s a class that teaches how to search for scientific papers on databases, understand the technical jargon used in papers, and how to identify a good experiment from a poorly conducted one.

She went on: “Scientists fudge results all the time. And if they don’t, then the journals that publish those papers are funded by people who want certain results. Science is all about what people want you to see.”

I sighed when hearing all this, mostly because of the irony. I’m betting she obtained this opinion from—you guessed it—the news, which is usually shared through YouTubers, family members, and social media—the epitome of “what people want you to see”. I doubted she came to this conclusion from reading actual research.

Which, to her credit, isn’t a fair thing to ask anyone to do.

Most scientific papers are not publicly available. Reading research is both a tedious and job-specific pursuit: either you’re in a field that requires keeping up with the latest findings, or you’re a college student with access to freely available databases (if not, it’s costly to subscribe for access). 

Even if there was free access to academic research, it’s unreasonable to expect someone to understand papers because of the way they are written. There’s a specific structure and language that makes sections like a study’s Abstract, Introduction, Methods, Results, and Discussion difficult to understand. These seem like neat, self-explanatory section headings, but each requires a knowledge of how experiments are conducted to analyze procedures and statistical findings. 

Scientific papers are the equivalent of the secret language similarly used by banks and the investment community. The comedian Lewis Black once joked about an economics class he took at Princeton University: “Are you trying to keep this shit a secret?!”

In other words, academic papers are written for the audience who best understands them: Other academics.

That’s why the news is an important communicator of scientific research. Scientific papers are like a temperamental uncle that no one wants to deal with at Thanksgiving, and the news is like that one aunt who acts as a negotiator between the uncle and the rest of the family. Without the aunt, no one would enjoy a peaceful meal of turkey and stuffing without feeling angry about what the uncle’s problem is. Believe me: we’re all grateful for the aunt that makes Thanksgiving work for everyone.

Except, the news isn’t always the best communicator. Sometimes, there’s a disconnect between what scientists and news media companies deems newsworthy. The problem often stems from scientists believing the public wants to hear all the fine details of their work (just read a 20-page study without falling asleep) and news companies finding most research uninteresting or not newsworthy.

Depending on the news company, this leads to some liberties being taken. Some change the details of a scientific paper, even the conclusions, to make sense for a broader audience. This is often done by accident, mostly from misunderstanding the results from a complicated study. Of course, after a story is published with incorrect reporting, the scientific community scrambles to fix the errors (without access to a wide audience), and an icy relationship forms between reporters and scientists who don’t see eye to eye (the uncle and the rest of the family).

Or, more nefariously, a news organization might purposely provide a clickbait title or change the content of a research paper for more views and web traffic.

A headline might run like this:

A newspaper with a headline that reads: It's Official, New Study Proves Dogs Hate People. A golden retriever stares angrily as the featured image.

The study might have been about dogs who are measurably annoyed with their owners over being fed certain types of dog food, which results in a doggy grudge being held for a time, but this isn’t the same as dogs “hating” people. But it’s a much juicier headline to make a blanket statement that dogs, suddenly, hate people.

So, why would my former girlfriend hate on science so much? It seems like news companies share more of the blame when it comes to misinformation. Besides, I was taking a college course at the time that told me how mistaken she was.

The relationship ended long ago, but I haven’t changed my mind about the integrity of scientific journals and research.

The truth is that it’s damned hard to be fraudulent in the scientific community. With publishing, not only is the reputation of the published scientist on the line, but so are the careers of those who are asked to peer-review the paper. It’s a huge risk to publish fake findings.

And then I read a headline this morning from The Wall Street Journal:

“Flood of Fake Science Forces Multiple Journal Closures“

***

CAN’T TRUST SCIENCE

Nidhi Subbaraman’s article in The Wall Street Journal covered the recent influx of fraudulent scientific papers that have spread through the academic publishing world. Like an internet virus, hundreds of submissions flooded scientific publications for the purposes of misinforming from credible news sources. Subbaraman notes the authors of these fictional papers are not scientific researchers fudging the findings of their experiments, but are the work of independently paid writers from paper mills.

The Wall Street Journal's image of scientific studies rolling out like toilet paper and being cut with scissors. Illustrated by Emil Lendof.
Image courtesy of The Wall Street Journal, illustrated by Emil Lendof

Paper mills are freelance groups or individuals that produce content for pay. An advertisement might be posted about a prospective paper with an attractive title (like: The Science of Dogs Hating People) and a paper is then written to that point. The papers are forged as credible by citing established scientists’ and researchers’ work, often to look like a well-researched paper. These papers are convincing enough to survive the submission process of many scientific journals.

The large influx of submitted and published papers has led to the closing of many science journals because of the fraud. Wiley, the company covered in Subbaraman’s article, has lost $35 to $40 million in revenue and will be closing 19 of its journals. Paper mills often target the weakest journals that have less scrutinous publishing standards. A publisher like Wiley owns and operates more than 2,000 journals under its publishing umbrella, which means peer-reviewing is lax in less prominent publications. This allows paper mill submissions to slip past proofreaders, especially if a journal is under-staffed.

This news is discouraging but not unexpected. Every industry has been preyed upon by those seeking a quick dollar (see: the continued attempts to short GameStop’s stock over the past week). However, what’s occurring in the academic publishing world points to a bleak future when it comes to safeguarding historically serious places for scientific writing and discussion. 

My question is this: If the scientific publishing world is becoming more easily exploited, how can we ever let our guard down?

Maybe my ex was right.

***

PEER-REVIEWED PROGRESS

“Where do you get your information then?” I asked my ex on that date. “How do you know when to trust something?”

She paused for a second, shrugged, and said, “You just know it.”

The book cover of Kathryn Schulz's Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error

It was at this point that I knew our relationship wouldn’t last. If my psychology background proved useful for anything it was in understanding that our intuitions are anything but accurate. The writer Kathryn Schulz’s book Being Wrong: Adventures in the Margin of Error is about how even our simplest assumptions are horribly (and often humorously) mistaken.

It’s tempting to rely on intuition in an era of conflicting news sources. I get it: misinformation feels exactly like betrayal—it hurts the same way as finding out that a close friend was lying to you. When betrayal happens, it’s easier to build up walls so that nothing else that’s harmful can get through.

When I think of why my ex-girlfriend—or anyone—actively distrusts science, it’s often about preservation more than protection. Maybe it feels justifiable to shout down or marginalize anything that has harmed us before, but it isn’t a great path forward.

That’s why the response to misinformation cannot be an existential turn inwards to judge the world from a place of safety. To do so is not only impossible but contradictory.

For example, claiming technology and news isn’t to be trusted makes little sense when we cling to devices and online services for every other area of our lives. In other words: We can’t choose to disparage one source for another when they are intrinsically the same.

We all get our news somewhere—who is to say we’re not getting it wrong all the time?

I know—the elephant in the room is how we move forward when it appears we’re being swindled at every turn.

I think the response by Wiley, the publisher in Subbaraman’s article, is a model for how to do so. In the face of a crisis over academic credibility, the publisher began restructuring the submissions program, invested in AI proofreading software to spot signs of recognizable fraudulent content, and conducted audits into the past two years of published papers.

This is what a system working to correct itself looks like. 

The Wall Street Journal story is less about the faultiness of our technological world and is, instead, a tale about science behaving as it is supposed to in the face of new problems.

And that’s the key to living a better life: Learning to identify faulty information and responding wisely next time.

Like when dating someone who doesn’t believe in the credibility of science journals.

You live and learn to choose better the next time around.

***

A graphic featuring the Spotify logo and the text: Weekly Finds
  1. “Treat Ya Better” by The Criticals
  2. “City Lights” by Hall Johnson
  3. “Cameras & Coastlines” by Smallpools

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

The logo and signature for the website roberthymawrites.com
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| Weekly Post-Eds |

Weekly Post-Ed #68

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

THE WEEK AFTER

It’s been 10 days since I graduated Grand Valley State University with a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature. Where I thought the preceding week would feel like a triumph, it’s felt more like the fallout of a relationship. I’ve been walking around in a stupor, going through a mental checklist that no longer exists. What’s the next upcoming class? The next test? There’s nothing there—just a void of who I used to be just a fortnight ago. Being in college has defined my life for the past 18 months. And now…nothing.

I’m not longer ‘Robert Hyma-in-pursuit-of-his-BA.’

Today, I’m ‘Robert Hyma-Ok-I-have-my-BA-now-what?’

The plan was to immediately transition into a tenacious job-hunt the day after graduation, which has happened. I’ve compiled a newly printed resumé, updated LinkedIn, and have set up profiles on Indeed and ZipRecruitor (as well as GVSU’s Handshake networking system) to begin the journey to finding a career.

The problem, as some of you are spotting immediately, is that this process is coming a tad late in the game. Most of my classmates have filled their summer schedules with unpaid internships (modern day indentured servitude—but with a maybe/sorta reward of a resumé bullet point afterwards). Maybe I resisted this path because I’ve had a sorta/kinda career path before resuming college, but I assumed a degree would grant instant entry into the jobs I was not qualified for previously. I just needed a piece of university stationary that said I was now qualified for a more enticing career.

Right?

Yes and no. The path to any career is mysterious, often defined by a mixture of the type of person, the era, the culture, and valued skillset. Still, stupid is stupid, and I may have made life more tedious than it needed to be by focusing on my studies so intensely.

The real trick of college is to have one foot in and out the door: Excelling in coursework while simultaneously leveraging this achievement into the working world.

And it all sounds like a great plan until reality sets in—college students are merely human beings. I’ve often been amazed by my classmates who have worked menially paying part-time jobs, coming into young adulthood and confronting identity with new groups of people, how to date and find love (if at all), combatting a hyper-aware society forever wired into the age of the internet, prone to constant comparison, success in every aspect of life a requirement for happiness, pride, wealth, and then to somehow find the clarity of a career path that begins IMMEDIATELY after being handed a diploma placeholder at Graduation.

In other words, there’s a strange dissonance with everyone graduating college: “I’m an adult now, why am I not successful yet?”

***

GRAD REBOUNDING

I’m finding it difficult to cut the cord of the past 18 months. Perhaps I’m alone, but the adrenaline of graduation has worn off and now I’m facing a new frontier with new landmarks and people with blurred faces. Everything is new, which is both exciting and terrifying, but it doesn’t discount the old. When I think about graduating college and moving on, it feels like trying to find a rebound after going through a breakup. 

I had this discussion with a classmate the day before graduation took place:

ME: “Are you walking this weekend?”

HER: “No. My boyfriend did last year, and we waited two hours to hear his name. And then he walked across the stage in about four seconds. It’s a huge waste of time. I’m not walking. Are you?”

ME: “Yeah. I’ve never walked before.”

HER: “Good luck. I’m ready to be done with this place. I could care less about walking. I’m ready to move on.”

There it is: “I’m ready to move on.” She’s been emotionally done with college for a while. Most seniors in college are. Attending classes, taking exams—it’s all rote and mechanical procedure in the weeks before graduation. Why can’t life just be all the things we’ve been preparing for?

While I understand this logic, I think it’s important to attend a ceremony at the start and end of things. The Olympics has its Opening and Closing Ceremonies, marriage its wedding and divorce proceedings, and college has its convocation and graduation. There’s something necessary in attending the start and close of a journey.

Most of my classmates were packing in a hurry to get on with “living”. But what has the past four years of college been if not a significant growth spurt? In that time, most students start in their teens, age into young adulthood, experience sex and alcohol on a consistent basis, and somehow develop an independence that is (hopefully) means not returning to the way things were before arriving on campus. Why does living take place only after the journey ends when so much living has taken place the entirety of an undergraduate degree? Blame it on age, but I disagree that college is a ceaselessly tiring and punishing gauntlet that must be endured in order to “get on with life”. In the aftermath of graduation, I think the past ten days have been necessary to process what the hell has taken place.

That’s my clouded and congested conclusion at this juncture: I’ve been lost and adrift not as a reflection of my inability to cope and move on to a new era, but as a meditation about the old one. 

This is what it means to move on in a healthy way.

Just, try not to eat meals with serving sizes befitting a roaming buffalo or binge watch the entirety of Netflix’s “for you” category as a way of numbing out. 

It’s better to feel the listlessness in the aftermath of graduation than run from it. The point is to feel all the things you must right now.

Otherwise, it’s a rebound into something else.

Might as well have applied for internships, then.

***

PARTING KNOWLEDGE

Before my final exams, I made a point to ask my professors what advice they would give their younger selves if they could. More specifically, I asked:

“What do you know now that you didn’t when you were younger?”

Here are two noteworthy responses from my professors:

First Professor:

“I once had a therapist that said, ‘It’s like you’re hauling around an extension ladder’. By that, she meant that I was looking far ahead into the future, while reaching way back into my past. If you’ve ever carried an extension ladder before, you know how awkward it is to walk around with. But that’s how it feels to think so much about the future and constantly dig through the past—there’s no pivoting without knocking into something you didn’t need to.

“So, I asked the therapist, ‘What do I do about the ladder?’ and she said, ‘Carry a smaller one.’ Since then, I understood how unimportant it was to worry about the future and the past. None of that defines you. What matters is keeping versatile in the present. That’s where everything is happening anyways. And with a smaller ladder, you can still get up and down when you need to, just with manageable heights. It’s much more useful, I’ve found.”

Second Professor:

“I once took such pride in being introverted, until I realized it was largely an excuse to protect myself. I loved to go off by myself and think, or write, or do whatever, but always at the expense of talking with anyone. As you get older, you find the reasons you do things are not practical so much as practiced. I wanted to be an introvert more than I ever was one. And ever since I gave up on the label, I’ve been much more willing to have conversations with anyone and everyone. It hasn’t left me tired and exhausted but inspired. I have so many more good people in my life because I gave up on the illusion of introversion as an identity.

“So I would say: Rethink what you cling to for identity. Often, it’s just a way of protecting yourself instead of being open to new things and people.”

***

Lastly, if you haven’t checked out the recent playlist from Quarter One of this year, I highly recommend it. There’s something there for everyone. Feel free to list your most noteworthy songs of the past while in the comments below!

Robert Hyma’s Q1 – 2024 Playlist

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

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| Playlists |

Q1 – 2024 Playlist

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

Q1 2024 ended up being one of those playlists that can change any mood for the better. The first track is “This Time Around” by Beauty Queen, a vibing pulser that starts any drive or walk with cares and worries falling away. “Hush” by The Marías is that droning, feel-good club music that you reach for your best and bassiest headphones to listen to.

Thematically, some gems pad the middle of the playlist, including “She’s Too Good For You” by Audio Book Club and “Hater’s Anthem” by Infinity Song, reflective and critical pieces about pedestal-placed love interests and the rampaging hating ways of haters. Since the end of the playlist coincided with a busy finale to a college semester, a classic angst-ridden guitar ballad “Now I’m Ready to Win” by Tokyo Police Club became a foundational repeat track; all the better to amp up for exams and final projects with.

Rounding out Q1 were a few surprises. Justin Timberlake’s latest album, Everything I Thought It Would Be, is a fantastic listen, but the hard-hitting “Sanctified” ultimately made the cut in terms of replay-ability. The final surprise featured one of my favorite bands from the early 2000s, Shout Out Louds. Filled with nostalgia, “The Comeback – Revisited” is a softer iteration of their original hit song but with the echoing thoughtfulness that comes from experience and reflection. If nothing else, the last track asks what comes next after considering where it all started from.

What better way to think about the first 3 months of 2024 than with a new, shiny playlist to tote around?

Click on the Spotify banner below to give it a listen!

  1. “This Time Around” by Beauty Queen
  2. “Fumari” by Peach Tree Rascals
  3. “Hush” by The Marías
  4. “idwtgtbt” by the booyah! kids
  5. “I Gotta I Gotta” by flowerovlove
  6. “Open Up Wide” by Dizzy
  7. “Best Interests” by Carmanah
  8. “She’s Too Cool for You” by Audio Book Club
  9. “Tightrope” by bennytheghost
  10. “Switch” by Biig Piig
  11. “Karma Tattoo” by Jenny Mayhem
  12. “Paint Your Nails Blue” by Dirty Nice
  13. “Ready to Win” by Tokyo Police Club
  14. “Sanctified (feat. Tobe Nwigwe)” by Justin Timberlake, Tobe Nwigwe
  15. “The Comeback – Revisited” by Shout Out Louds

***

Q1 – 2024 Playlist
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| Weekly Post-Eds |

Weekly Post-Ed #67

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

IN THE THICK OF IT

This will be a short and sweet Weekly Post-Ed. I’m in the middle of writing the final portion of my thesis and the deadline is next week Wednesday (!!). I’ll have much to comment on this thesis after the deadline passes, but one lesson has been painfully learned from embarking on this final project: In doing difficult things, all the parts about oneself that have remained easily hidden or ignored comes into the light.

And it ain’t pretty.

There’s a laundry list of characteristics for what I mean by this, but my God—I overestimated the effectiveness of all the organizational skills and personal talent that makes up for much of my work ethic. Grinding through this thesis has been an uncomfortable confrontation with many of my creative shortcomings. It’s been a cathartic and fulfilling experience–don’t get my wrong–but the ouch of this realization hasn’t worn off yet. I’ll be in the middle of it until the deadline next week, but one thing is clear going forward: My creative process could use a tune up.

I’ll be more specific in the coming weeks about my experiences. It’s an uplifting kind of thing, not to worry. Until then, send help in the guise of your comments–they help a lot.

***

ROBERT HYMA CASSEROLE

It’s not very often that a Weekly Post-Ed falls on one’s birthday, which is what today is.

Happy 35th birthday to me

*Holds for stadium applause*

Every year, it seems, I reflect on my life and what it feels like to be yet another year older. There isn’t a significant difference year to year, but sometimes reflecting on age comes up in unexpected places. In class a few weeks ago, the topic of my age came up and I told the truth. I’ve found that if the topic of my age comes up in college, I’m naturally asked as a followup, “What does it feel like to be in your 30s?”

It’s a silly question once you get into your 30s. What does it feel like? Being one’s thirties.

It’s like asking a tree, “What is it like to be a tree?”

And the tree responds, “Like tree. It feels like tree.”

Once you get there, you know. But it’s also disappointing to get older. There’s often no identifiable ribbon of achievement other than the dirge of wrinkles and slightly less elastic skin. Being in one’s thirties feels the same as one’s twenties–only, the number is printed higher than one feels. I feel just as mentally competent and sharp as I did in my twenties, with a sense of identity that hasn’t shifted all that much. The only difference has been a slew of new life experiences to add to the catalogue of what it means to be Robert Hyma.

I suppose that’s the difference: Experiences.

Really, age isn’t something trackable other than a number. What often changes is experiences, which is something added to the dish being prepared.

The best I can describe it, experience feels like something. I, Robert Hyma, don’t feel any different than I did a decade ago (as I’ve said), but there is a difference–one that I can feel. It’s like eating your favorite dish but someone added extra salt to it. Depending how you felt about the dish, maybe the extra salt helps. Or, maybe it makes the dish too bitter now. But there’s nothing to be done about it now: Someone added the salt (experiences) and that’s what the dish tastes like now.

Optimistically, it’s an amount of salt that doesn’t make or break the dish. It’s extra and can be ignored if you like, but you know it’s there if one is really straining to taste the extra pinch of salt.

Experience, then, is just an added neutral ingredient to age. I’m still me at 35—a dish called Robert Hyma Casserole (for better or worse)—but I’m also a bit of something else I can’t quite describe, lest I ask the cook what else was put into the main course this time around.

And on this particular iteration of Robert Hyma Casserole (my birthday, I mean, if I’m being too abstract), I’d rather not know if what I’m tasting is an extra pinch of salt. Right now, I like the dish.

It tastes just right. I wouldn’t change a thing.

***

ANY BIRTHDAY WISHES?

The most “old person” behavior in my adult life (that’s convenient enough for me to list, of course) is that I complain about my birthday like a crotchety geriatric that says, “I don’t want anything for my birthday!”

It’s true: I’ve reached a sum total of life pleasantries that I don’t need pine for anything more (outside of snap-decision items I purchase on a whim like fresh socks or elastic shoe strings–I’m not a monster, after all). And I realize my privilege by being in this position: There are many who don’t have the luxury of shrugging when family and friends ask what they can do for your birthday. Outside of some birthday gathering (in which I still assume the role of crotchety geriatric:
How long is party supposed to last?!”), I truly want nothing.

A birthday with nothing isn’t grounds for a pity party–it’s a celebration of just being. For once.

Which is what I really want for my birthday this year.

“To feel like tree,” a tree might say.

That’s what I want for me. And for you.

“Tree” as much as you need to “tree” today.

***

  1. “Open Up Wide” by Dizzy
  2. “Best Interests” by carmanah
  3. “She’s Too Cool for You” by Audio Book Club

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

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| Weekly Post-Eds |

Weekly Post-Ed #66

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

A NEW GAME TO PLAY

Over the past two weeks, I’ve been cold-approaching women in public. Cold-approaching is a term used in the pickup artist community; it means to go up to a person and begin a conversation. Ever since I started reading Neil Strauss’s The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, I’ve been fascinated with all the things I never knew about being social (as opposed to the psychological toolkit proffered by pickup artists to optimally seduce women).

Courtesy of Amazon

I don’t fancy myself as someone who wishes to seduce (or could pull off the sorts of magic tricks, blatant techniques offered in the book).

But the social-skill aspect of approaching people…That has been fascinating to experiment with.

Some background: I wouldn’t call myself socially inept. I’m not clueless with how to speak to others, even women. Like many creative types, I’m predisposed to an introvert’s lifestyle, finding pleasure in time alone with hobbies/projects than seeking the battery refill of social interaction. That being said, when it comes to speaking to others, I have a fairly rote set of skills that aren’t up-to-date. Much of what I learned involves asking open-ended questions and keeping someone else talking. This is fine if my intention was small talk, or a polite conversation with a stranger, but when it comes to a more meaningful connection, asking questions is like a table with only three legs—it can stand upright but, you know, just barely.

The problem with wanting to test new social skills as someone older is there isn’t a steady place to practice. In my situation, I happen to have a burgeoning college campus full of students just waiting to be spoken with. So, setting out to try a few lessons from Neil Strauss’s book, I set out to test my skills this past week.

***

THE TOOLKIT

The first step was to apply a few useful tips from Strauss’s book. In no particular order, I sought to do the following:

Have an Opener: Really, just a rehearsed scenario that I could begin a conversation with. Here’s what I used:

“Hi, let me get your opinion on this. My sister’s birthday is coming up and I’m buying her a shirt she’s been wanting. I’m not sure if she’s a small or a medium, which size should I go with?”

It’s a solid opener because it invites a casual response (something that isn’t too difficult to have an opinion about) and appears harmless. It’s disarming and allows me to convey confidence in approaching a perfect stranger about this dilemma.

Set a Time Frame: Don’t just approach someone and gab on about something you’d like their opinion on. Most likely, a stranger is thinking two things when you approach: What does this person want, and how long are they staying around? So, to mitigate one of these concerns, it’s a good idea to disarm the concern that you’re not about to leave with a statement of how long you intend to stick around.

I used this one since I was on campus: “I only have a few minutes and then I have to get to my next class.”

I was skeptical that this would be so impactful, but I could see the tension drop away. A time frame was relieving. Who knew?

Don’t be Results Dependent: A huge problem with my previous social interactions has been expecting a certain result: exchanging phone numbers, assurance of a followup interection, acknowledgment that I was the most perfect man and how could I have not come along sooner…

(You can see some of the psychology for why it’s been a struggle. I haven’t, as Esther Peral famously prescribed, “calibrated expectations”.

With strangers, frankly anyone, I wanted to be the most likeable person who could win their affections. If you’ve tried this before, the results are obvious: If you’re desperate to be liked, not only do you appear disingenuous, but will fail miserably. Desperation is potent like Body Odor or blood in the water—people have a sense for it and it isn’t desired. Not socially, at least.

Letting go of results also takes away the pressure of approaching others—simply saying a few lines, playing with the conversation, and then saying, “Thanks. Nice to meet you,” are all acceptable ways of ending things if it isn’t going well.

And many times, things going poorly is as much about luck and chemistry as it is about social prowess.

Speak in Statements: Statements are the language of intimacy, I’ve come to realize. Statements take a stand. Friends talk to each other in statements. In fact, I’d wager the reason we love and care for our favorite heroes in stories is because they mostly speak in statements. It’s simply the door opening to the soul.

Questions are interrogative, like being on a job interview. I’m a great listener and question asker, which isn’t surprising—the writer in me is a natural investigative journalist. But being a great question-asker also means I don’t participate in conversation. Asking questions, I’ve realized, means I’m not offering anything to the conversation about myself. Essentially, I’m hiding behind the lopsided expectation that others should speak and I can sit back and watch them—like an audience. Is it surprising, then, that I’m the one to fall in love with others instead of their falling in love with me?

Of course: They’ve been making statements and have demonstrated character, while I’ve been most often anonymous and asking questions.

With this toolkit memorized, I set out to talk to women on campus.

***

IN THE FIELD

If the pieces of advice I listed above seemed intuitive enough, putting them into practice was a completely different experience. For example, I had not taken into account the entire lifetime of built up social fears and belief systems that made it impossible not to flounder on the first few approaches.

My first approach was with a fashion designer at a coffee shop. She had been reading a book about entrepreneurship and I started with a question, “What are you reading?”

She answered. I couldn’t recall what she said because I was petrified. Up close, she was prettier than I had anticipated. Everything I had coached myself to try had gone out the window. So, I reverted to my default social ability: I asked interview questions.

“Are you looking to start a business?”

“What other things have you designed?”

“Is this for college?”

On and on and on about her fashion dreams. And me? Nothing to report—I didn’t say anything about myself. I could have been an undercover IRS agent for all she knew, which is about how she looked at me after the fifth or sixth question. To my credit, though, I recognized the conversation wasn’t going well—certainly not organically—so I thanked her for her time and said it was nice to meet her.

A class crash and burn, but also a start of something. Where I might have just walked past this person’s table, I stopped and attempted a conversation. So, at least a passing grade with a first attempt.

Partial credit is better than none.

The second interaction this past week was on campus. Spotting a girl sitting in the warm sunlight outside of the library, I approached with an opener I had been turning over in my head. I mustered up the courage and then approached to say:

“Hi, I could really use your opinion on this. My friend was dumped by his girlfriend a few weeks ago, and he keeps texting me that he needs closure in order to move on. Should he text her about what happened?”

Ok, maybe a little too autobiographical for complete comfort, but it worked. She told me that it was never a good idea to try to get back or ask for closure with an ex (a sensible and correct answer). I asked if she’s ever had guys try to contact her after a breakup. She said no and that her mother always steered her right on these matters.

“Help my friend out,” I said, feeling more confident after sensing things were going well. “If you’re being approached by a guy, how should he come up to you?”

She thought for a moment and said, “Not like this. If I’m at a library, I’m working on something. At a coffee house, I’m just trying to get away and have a cup of coffee, maybe read.. If I want to meet a guy, I’ll go to a bar or to a club and go dancing. It makes sense to come up to me there. Anywhere else and it isn’t organic.”

I was surprised by her answer, organic. “You wouldn’t want to be approached at the library? Even if it was Downey Jr. coming up to you?”

She smiled. “Well, that’s different.”

I laughed. “Ok. So, at a bar or a club. Is that where you meet guys?”

She dropped her smile. “Oh, I’m not 21. But, yeah, that’s how I would want to meet guys.”

Ouch, that age difference between her and I. Yes, it was time for me to leave. “Well, I have to run to class, but thank you—I’ll tell my friend what you said.”

“Hey, what class are you going to?”

I smiled. Yes, the hook; the point where she’s interested and asks a question about me. I hadn’t expected this moment, but was flattered that it had come. Too bad the age gap between us was about 13-14 years—something I’m not willing to pursue. I said a class, the lie was white and innocent, and I took my leave.

And gave myself full credit as I walked on.

***

DRUNK TESTING

Whether cold-approaching does anything for my social life, the jury is still out. It’s true that I have more confidence since trying some of the approaches from Neil Strauss’s book, but this could also be an uptick in confidence due to experience. I’m not convinced that any of these prescribed techniques works for me specifically, but I am also at a crossroads in life and trying something new is entirely worthwhile.

The process of cold-approaching, like anything that’s been worth doing in my life, has been the most fun anyways.

Over the weekend, I travelled to Detroit to visit a few friends. I talked about cold-approaching at an Irish pub, and after a few Guinness’s each, we each took turns pretending to cold-approach the table as though we were striking up a conversation with a bunch of strangers. Each attempt was more ridiculous than the last, and we never were convincing to one another. It didn’t matter—after every try, we all sat down to laugh at how ridiculous we looked and sounded. It was great fun.

I realized on the drive back to my friends’ apartment that the fun rested entirely in the aftermath of any of this cold-approaching business. It was never about being successful with women or being considered a social darling—it was all about the fun of having an experience and sharing it with some close friends. We were all drunk, having a great time, and there wasn’t much else that mattered (besides getting home safe).

I’ll have to test some more in the coming weeks, but I did discover a new technique for mitigating the anxiety of approaching others: When one is hungover with blistering headache, there isn’t much energy left to care about how socially graceful you are.

So cheers to me and you, my friend: To more adventures, wherever they may be.

***

Justin Timberlake’s “Everything I Ever Thought It Was” album, courtesy of Spotify

Justin Timberlake’s new album “Everything I Ever Thought It Was” album released over the past week. It’s wonderful. Everyone should have a listen. I’ll listen the three tracks I’ve had on repeat, but the album is truly a work of renown.

In a sweeping series of promotions, Justin Timberlake also featured on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series, reprising some golden favorites. It’s a fantastic use of 25-minutes of your life to give it a watch. I’ll include a link.

  1. “No Angels”
  2. “Sanctified (feat. Toby Nwigwe)”
  3. “Selfish”

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

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| Weekly Post-Eds |

Weekly Post-Ed #65

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

SEASONS CHANGE

In the past week, the temperature in West Michigan rose to 72 degrees in Allendale, and dipped to below freezing with mild snow showers the very next day. It was the most bipolar weather conditions I’ve seen in winter here. Things have normalized since then, thankfully, but it was a sign of seasons changing: This Sunday the clocks roll forward an hour for Daylight Savings Time, March 19 is the first day of spring, and in three weeks I’ll be turning 35-years-old.

Seasons are changing.

In a month in a half, I will have graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature, launching into a new season of my life. Perhaps this is a characteristic of age, but the newness of change is less frantic or scary than it used to be. I’ve been through significant change more than I can count at this point, so the thought of leaving campus to head out into the real world isn’t so intimidating.

It is, however, intimidating to many of my classmates—most of whom are 14-15 years my junior.

Attaining a BA in English Lit has been wildly different than my first go-around with college. Instead of pursuing a degree in my early twenties, I went out in the world confident that I could do without one. This was true to an extent (I certainly could have committed to numerous career paths outside of a degree of some sort). The truth is that choices are limited without a slip of paper to get into other fields. With some luck, I was able to return to to college in my thirties, which was a radically different experience. Instead of being concerned with forming an identity and the constant anxiety of who I fit in with. I was free to do the work–which was the benefit of working in all those odd jobs: Showing up and completing a day’s work is the extent of responsibility. In the many years I spent working as as a freelance writer, in advertising, and as a preschool teacher, I found there was a common theme with every workplace and its hierarchy of people and rules: Every place is different and there’s no telling what it’s like until you’re in the thick of it.

Call it life experience or wisdom from age, but the road one takes is always going somewhere. In my experience, there isn’t much need to worry about where you’ve come from.

That’s why I’m always taken aback by the epidemic of fear of failure pertaining to test scores/assignments/papers and final grades. In the logistical sense of applying for scholarships (money for tuition), grades matter, but this concern is always insulated—no one outside of college cares about grades other than which university you acquired them from.

I spoke with a classmate in my thesis class who was convinced that the rest of her life was dependent on our professor’s decision pass or fail us. “Our professor has the power to decide what happens to me, doesn’t that scare you?” she asked me.

No. Of course not. That’s because college is another season of life—and like most seasons, you experience them while they occur but without much memory for when they change. Do you remember last summer? Vaguely, I imagine. Your recollection likely goes something like this:

“It wasn’t very hot, it was nice to get outside, and I went to the beach a few times.” 

Right, which isn’t very specific. You’ve moved on and forgotten. College, like last summer, will be faintly memorable like the fading tan that’s in desperate need of more sunlight.

As I’m finishing the final month and a half of classes, I often think about getting back into the real world. It’s true that college has been a strange bubble existence with its own set of rules and expectations apart from the real world. However, the value of college has been a place to harness skills, think about the world in unconventional ways, and to truly expand the mind. The tragedy of graduation, I think, is that the faucet of knowledge is suddenly turned off and it’s all the harder to keep exposed anything challenging preconceived notions about the world.

Workplaces, families, friendships, and social media all make it incredibly easy to fall into a community of practice that insulates itself. There’s no more need to pick up a textbook, read studies, or cram for a test the following morning. There is no longer a forced path to unwittingly follow to betterment. In college there was (with its due criticisms, of course), but now there’s no incentive to keep going. Post-graduation means to adapt to a new world, one of employment and promotion, of hierarchy and financial makeup, of integrating into social systems that lead to that next stage of adult life.

Seasons change, I suppose.

I’ve yet to hear who the commencement speaker will be at Grand Valley State University, but one thing is for sure: This person will be older, experienced, and will likely give wisdom to those too young to understand the full impact of what’s being said. That’s natural—I’m just now learning things that I wished made sense a decade ago, and I’m confident that I’ll feel the same way about things I wish I had known at 35 in another ten years. Whatever this speaker will say to 2024 graduates, I can echo my own sentiment:

“Appreciate the seasons.”

They come and go. The leaves wilt, the snow accrues, and the muddy puddles of spring will evaporate into the paradise of summertime. It all changes so fast, but the lesson wasn’t in recognizing that seasons come and go—it was in spending the time to notice them in the first place. 

So, when someone asks about last summer or what it was like to be in college, time travel back to when that place felt real again. Summer meant sunshine, and college meant glimpsing a world that appears a wondrous, complex organism–one that was never simple to define.

It’s much like the weather this past week: Summer and winter existed within 24-hours of each other in Western Michigan. I don’t truly understand anything.

I appreciate the seasons that remind me of this.

***

A NOTE ON AI GRAPHICS

Some of you may have noticed a distinct stylistic change in Weekly Post-Ed graphics form the past two weeks. There’s an obvious reason for that—they were designed using AI. And while I am naturally opposed to making graphics using AI, the past few weeks of trying out the technology has been fascinating. Viewing an image generate after transcribing a few sentences into ChatGPT might be the closest I’ve come to witnessing magic on the internet (not counting a few TikTok trends). An image is produced in under ten seconds with a level of detail that might take me hours to illustrate.

There are downsides, however. The design choices this current AI makes in graphics generation are very limited in my opinion (in terms of a flat, cartoony style), which makes it easy to identify images made with AI. There’s also a lack of authorship with the images, something that isn’t easy to explain, but something about the images feels lacking. If that makes any sense. Call it artistic integrity, but I can see the difference in something made by humans and not. There seems to be a lack of personal choice with AI generation.

All of this is to say these graphics are a short term experiment. I do not intend to rely on AI for graphics going further. The graphic designer in me will not tolerate the loss of originality with my own creative works.

So, that about explains it. Count on more personalized graphics going further, but every once in a while, if the graphic is interesting enough, I may use elements of AI as inspiration (which, frankly is where the technology thrives).

***

  1. “Hush” by The Marías
  2. “idwtgtbt” by the booyah! kids
  3. “I Gotta I Gotta” by flowerovlove

***

Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,

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| Playlists |

Q4 – 2023 Playlist

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

The finale playlist of 2023 let the dam loose in terms of new and vibrant music. Maybe there was a sudden influx of new releases, or that Spotify’s Discover Weekly playlist was sandbagging most of the year, but through the floodgates surged new artists and hit songs that kept coming in strong. Quarter Four 2023 is an eclectic collective of moody and transient tunes best played in the background of every facet of life.

Let’s start with “BURY YOU” by Ari Abdul, a go-to track to just feel damned cool about a possessive relationship (and how about that album art? It’s like a GQ featuring a glam-up of the dead girl from “The Ring” and totally awesome). “Winona” by Miloe, Jamila Woods, & Vagabon is surprisingly layered and reflective piece infused with a catchy trio of voices that sets this song afloat to another plane. “buzz cut” by lovelytheband and MisterWives is a collab that comes with the guitar rhythm of a hit Pheonix track, and who doesn’t love that?

Rounding out the playlist are some emotionally apropos tracks like “Worrying” by Clean Cut Kid, a sobering and campfire sing-song track about the waste of worry and anxiety. Chappell Roan sings another sex anthem in “Red Wine Supernova”, followed by another anthemic declaration of human nature “Human Being” by Arkells & Lights.

This has been my most played playlist for just about any endeavor. So click the Spotify banner below, skip through the tracks that resonate, try the others, and see if there’s something that winds up on a playlist of your making. As always, comment below to mention new faves, suggestions of your own, and anything else you felt while browsing the tracks below.

2023 music over and out!

  1. “Sylvania (Nanana)” by Bay Ledges
  2. “Close to Me” by Hembree
  3. “Slide Tackle” by Japanese Breakfast
  4. “BURY YOU” by Ari Abdul
  5. “Winona” by Miloe, Jamila Woods, Vagabon
  6. “Coming Attractions” by Nodaway
  7. “buzz cut” by lovelytheband, MisterWives
  8. “Out of Vogue” by Fever Dolls
  9. “MANGO” by Grace Mitchell
  10. “Yellow Brick Road” by Dylan Cartlidge
  11. “Moonshine” by Hippo Campus
  12. “Siddhartha” by Dead Emerson
  13. “Worrying” by Clean Cut Kid
  14. “Red Wine Supernova” by Chappell Roan
  15. “Human Being” by Arkells, Light
  16. “Patio” by George Moir
  17. “Sunday” by Sea Lemon
  18. “Technicolor” by Teddi Gold
Robert Hyma’s Q4 2023 Playlist

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| Playlists |

Q3 – 2023 Playlist

by Robert Hyma
written by Robert Hyma

Then, there was Quarter Three of 2023. You’ll notice that there isn’t the usual number of tracks in this playlist. That’s largely because it was a time of summer fun and, honestly, not finding much that piqued my musical interests. Often, finding new music is a lottery draw and either music hits or doesn’t. I went back to HONEYMOAN as filler since I was in love with this band for most of 2023 (still am, but shhh…). The New Pornographers released a new album and I found it difficult to keep on repeat other than a few selections. “Continue as a Guest” has a faraway view of existential crisis, reverberating like a metronome with its melodic electric guitar rhythm. It was the epitome of this playlist, I have found.

Some surprises wandered onto my repeat list, including Lizzy Farrall’s “Barbados”, a surprising bop that sounds like something out of the early 2010s. A country song recommendation by Ethan Tasch made its way into the mix, which sounded anything but the genre tagged, and became a great city-drive background track. “Grade A” by spill tab & JAWNY is an absolute jam and worthy of any pick-me-up playlist out there, while “Bloom” by Matilda Mann is an acoustic-guitar ambient song that’s both contemplative and contemporary in an addictive way.

It’s a shortened offering this time around, but no less enticing. Click on the Spotify logo below for a listen!

  1. “Continue as a Guest” by The New Pornographers
  2. “Barbados” by Lizzy Farrall
  3. “Gym Song” by HONEYMOAN
  4. “Grade A” by spill tab, JAWNY
  5. “Bloom” by Matilda Mann
  6. Lie Like You Want Me Back” by Yumi Zouma
  7. “Lavender” by Ashleigh Ball
  8. “Holdup” by Ethan Tasch
  9. “We’re All Gonna Die” by Joy Oladokun, Noah Kahan
  10. “Show You Off” by HONEYMOAN
Robert Hyma’s Q3 – 2023 Playlist
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