I hate being frustrated. It happens to me very easily. I hate not knowing the endings to stories, I hate not knowing what I’m getting for my birthday, and the only way I can not hate not knowing the answers to math problems is by not giving a flying fuck about them at all—which isn’t conducive to expending effort on solving them. I’ve generalized the “stop giving a fuck” self-defense strategy to other hatreds-of-not-knowing stuff, mostly to discourage people from teasing me with this neurosis. I believe that other people can enjoy various forms of not-knowing-stuff, or fail to hate it enough to override some competing desire to achieve knowledge on their own. But I don’t.
So basically, I looked at that math problem, sort of cared about knowing the answer, and asked. I got an answer (actually, several) which were quick enough to suit me. If the only way I could have learned the answer were to work it out for myself—or sit through ten minutes of algebra lessons or something—then I would have defensively ceased to care, instead.
Once I know the answer—in this case, that after having gone halfway at 20mph, you need to teleport to get to point B in time—then I can tolerate some further discussion of the scenario or the underlying math (although not arbitrary amounts). This is much the same as how, when I know that character X and character Y in some story eventually get together (or find the MacGuffin, or die, or whatever major plot item), I can often put up with extended periods of wondering exactly when and how.
I hate being frustrated. It happens to me very easily. I hate not knowing the endings to stories, I hate not knowing what I’m getting for my birthday, and the only way I can not hate not knowing the answers to math problems is by not giving a flying fuck about them at all—which isn’t conducive to expending effort on solving them. I’ve generalized the “stop giving a fuck” self-defense strategy to other hatreds-of-not-knowing stuff, mostly to discourage people from teasing me with this neurosis. I believe that other people can enjoy various forms of not-knowing-stuff, or fail to hate it enough to override some competing desire to achieve knowledge on their own. But I don’t.
So basically, I looked at that math problem, sort of cared about knowing the answer, and asked. I got an answer (actually, several) which were quick enough to suit me. If the only way I could have learned the answer were to work it out for myself—or sit through ten minutes of algebra lessons or something—then I would have defensively ceased to care, instead.
Once I know the answer—in this case, that after having gone halfway at 20mph, you need to teleport to get to point B in time—then I can tolerate some further discussion of the scenario or the underlying math (although not arbitrary amounts). This is much the same as how, when I know that character X and character Y in some story eventually get together (or find the MacGuffin, or die, or whatever major plot item), I can often put up with extended periods of wondering exactly when and how.