Week of 20 September, 2021

Week of 28 June, 2021

The Mere-Exposure Effect

The mere-exposure effect is a psychological phenomenon by which people tend to develop a preference for things merely because they are familiar with them. In social psychology, this effect is sometimes called the familiarity principle.

Mere-Exposure Effect (Wikipedia)

Whenever someone on the Internet says “things used to be so much better in my day” or “why did they have to change change X, it was already perfect”, this effect is probably the reason.

I’ve noticed this attitude most commonly in music communities, where some older listeners never even try to understand current trends in music. Though software communities are not immune to this either.

Week of 21 June, 2021

On Pratul’s recommendation, I started reading How to Take Smart Notes by Sönke Ahrens this week.

I’m only halfway through it, but already this book has changed the way I think about organizing the information and insight I glean from books, articles, lectures, and other media. It has also put into words some of my beliefs about writing and thinking that I’ve never been able to articulate myself.

I’ve been taking notes using the method described in the book for about a week. Even though putting it into practice takes great mental effort, I feel it’s worth the trouble. My only complaint is that it takes some of the fun out of reading and makes it feel like work. But I’m willing to live with that trade-off.

If you’re serious about learning, I highly recommend this book.


On a particularly dull weeknight, I started playing the original Legend of Zelda on the NES app on my Switch. I expected to kill some time with the game and bounce off after a while, but it captured me in a way that very few games from the NES era have managed to do.

NES games aren’t exactly easy so I’m dying a lot, but it’s not too bad because Zelda lets you continue playing with the same save file no matter how many times you die. You’re teleported back to the starting screen every time you restart, but you get to keep all your items and money. This feels fair. Even if you lose some of your progress, you at least restart the game with enough weapons and money that you can quickly make your way back to the area you were exploring.

Like many other titles on the NES, reading the manual before you start playing is a pre-requisite for making sense of this game. The bit of story that appears after the start screen even mentions this emphatically at the end. Luckily, the manual is available as a PDF from Nintendo’s website.

It’s easy to get lost in Zelda and go around in circles for hours if you don’t have a map. There’s one available in the manual if you want to make things easy for yourself, but I’m making my own with pen and paper. It’s a lot more fun this way and adds an extra layer to the experience. I just wish there was a way to digitize my illegible chickenscratch so I could pull it up on my phone for future playthroughs.

I can now see all the ways in which The Legend of Zelda has influenced some of the modern games that I enjoy playing. From The Binding of Isaac to Grand Theft Auto, seems like there’s a bit of Zelda in everything.

Playing this game in 2021 is still a fun experience. The only thing that feels dated about it are the graphics. The mechanics are still delightful.

Maybe I’ll play through A Link to the Past on the SNES app next.


On Thursday I got to see some friends I hadn’t seen for nearly half a year. All of us had at least one shot of the vaccine in our bodies, so meeting up felt kind of safe.

Looking at some of our old photos, I couldn’t imagine how we ever felt safe going to music festivals and packed indoor gigs with so many strangers around. I don’t know when I’ll feel safe enough to be able to do something like that again. Those pictures feel like they’re from a different universe that no longer exists.


My second shot of Covishield is scheduled for two months from now. Hoping that the government doesn’t run out of vaccines by then.

I played Fire Emblem: Three Houses

After over 70 hours of gameplay spread across three months, I finally finished the Blue Lions route in Fire Emblem: Three Houses last Saturday. This was my third attempt at playing this game.

I had to quit playing the first two times because the hundreds of options the game offers for customizing character builds made me feel overwhelmed and anxious. Modern JRPGs have become surprisingly complex, although most of them last 60-100 hours (or more) so I suppose they give you plenty of time to get used to all the complexity.

Towards the end of Three Houses I discovered that it supports same-sex marriage. I wasn’t expecting this from a Japanese developer, least of all Nintendo, so it was quite a pleasant surprise!

In a few months I want to go back and finish the remaining three routes the game offers, but for now I’m taking a break from all the political turmoil and gray morality of Fodlan to play something on my other consoles.

Over the weekend I started a playthrough of Golden Sun on the GBA. After months of thinking about the best combination of stats for a large cast of characters, it feels good to go back to a simpler era.

The Noonday Sun

Emacs outshines all other editing software in approximately the same way that the noonday sun does the stars. It is not just bigger and brighter; it simply makes everything else vanish.

— Neal Stephenson, In the Beginning was the Command Line (1998)

Rust is Hard

I’m not a Rust expert by any means, but I’ve spent enough time with the language that I can write reasonable code with a bit of effort (and a lot of DuckDuckGo). However, I’ve found that I often hesitate to use it for my personal projects.

Rust is a large language. The sheer number of features and their complexity introduce so much cognitive overhead while writing code that I can’t always muster up the mental energy to use it for things I’m simply tinkering around with after work. It’s just not possible for me to keep the whole thing in my head.

If I was writing Rust for my day job, it would be a different matter. Using it to build production software every day would let me internalize it to the point that it would become mostly automatic. It would let me cement difficult concepts in my brain so that I wouldn’t have to go looking for explanations every five minutes (lifetimes, anyone?)

Sadly I only get to use Rust for one-off side-projects, which means I spend maybe two hours a week using it. This gives me barely enough time to get my code into a working state, let alone dive into things like the Rustonomicon or even macros.

I love Rust, so I’m going to continue using it despite my issues with it. I’ll just have to lower my expectations of the level of proficiency I can hope to attain with the language.

PS: somebody please give me a Rust job 😭

Emacs Sparks Joy

Much like how some people enjoy tinkering with motorcycles, electronics, or craft projects, I enjoy tinkering with software. If my computing environment stays the same for too long, I start getting restless. I crave constant change.

Emacs is a tinkerer’s dream, an infinite sandbox that can be molded into something entirely different each day. I can dive into the manual and discover new features, try different combinations of packages to see what’s most comfortable for me, glue together packages to make them do things they was never intended to do, write snippets of ELisp that help me get my work done faster, and so much more.

In this way Emacs is not only a tool that lets me do my job, but also a creative outlet that provides endless hours of entertainment and joy. I consider it one of the best pieces of software ever written.

Of course, there are other reasons for using Emacs — longevity, efficiency, ubiquity — but these features can be found in many other tools both free and commercial. Only Emacs is good at being Emacs.

Week of 2 November, 2020

We Do Bones

Her adept said: “I’ll keep it off you. Nav, show them what the Ninth House does.”

Gideon lifted her sword. The construct worked itself free of its last confines of masonry and rotten wood and heaved before them, flexing itself like a butterfly.

“We do bones, motherfucker,” she said.

— Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth