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Pursuit of Joy, Fulfillment, and Purpose

Tag: neuroplasticity

  • Skittle Factories, Monkey Titties, and the Core Loop of You


    TL;DR

    Parakeet’s viral essay uses a Skittle factory as a metaphor for personality and how our core thought loops shape us—especially visible in dementia. The convo blends humor, productivity hacks (like no orgasms until publishing), internet weirdness (monkey titties), and deep reflections on identity, trauma, and rebuilding your inner world. Strange, smart, and heartfelt.

    Some thoughts:

    Somewhere between the high-gloss, dopamine-fueled TikTok scroll and the rot of your lizard brain’s last unpatched firmware update lies a factory. A real metaphorical one. A factory that makes Skittles. Not candy, but you—tiny, flavored capsules of interpretation, meaning, personality. And like all good industrial operations, it’s slowly being eaten alive by entropy, nostalgia, and monetization algorithms.

    In this world, your brain is a Skittle factory.

    1. You Are the Factory Floor

    Think of yourself as a Rube Goldberg machine fed by stimuli: offhand comments, the vibe of a room, Twitter flamewars, TikTok nuns pole dancing for clicks. These are raw materials. Your internal factory processes them—whirrs, clicks, overheats—and spits out the flavor of your personality that day.

    This is the “core loop.” The thing you always come back to. The mind’s default app when idle. That one obsession you never quite stop orbiting.

    And as the factory ages, wears down, gets less responsive to new inputs, the loop becomes the whole show. Which is when dementia doesn’t seem like a glitch but the final software release of an overused operating system.

    Dementia isn’t random. It’s just your loop, uncut.

    2. Core Loops: Software You Forgot You Installed

    In working with dementia patients, one pseudonymous writer-phenomenon noticed something chilling: their delusions weren’t new. They were echoes—exaggerated, grotesque versions of traits that were always there. Paranoia became full-on CIA surveillance fantasies. Orderliness became catastrophic OCD. Sweetness calcified into childlike vulnerability.

    Dementia reveals the loop you’ve been running all along.

    You are not what you think you are. You are the thing you return to when you stop thinking.

    And if you do nothing, that becomes your terminal personality.

    So what can you do?

    3. Rebuild the Factory (Yes, It Sucks)

    Editing the core loop is like tearing out a nuclear reactor mid-meltdown and swapping in a solar panel. No one wants to do it. It’s easier to meditate, optimize, productivity hack your life into sleek little inefficiencies than go into the molten pit of who you are and rewrite the damn code.

    But sometimes—via death, heartbreak, catastrophic burnout—the whole Skittle factory gets carpet-bombed. What’s left is the raw loop. That’s when you get a choice.

    Do you rebuild the same factory, or do you install a new core?

    It’s a terrifying, often involuntary freedom. But the interesting people—the unkillable ones, the truly alive ones—have survived multiple extinction events. They know how to rebuild. They’ve made peace with collapse.

    4. Monkey Titties and Viral Identity

    And now the monkeys.

    Or more specifically: one monkey. With, frankly, distractingly large mammaries. She went viral. She hijacked a man’s life. His core loop, once maybe about hiking or historical trivia, got taken over by monkey titties and the bizarre machinery of internet fame.

    This isn’t a joke—it’s the modern condition. A single meme can overwrite your identity. It’s a monkey trap: fame, absurdity, monetization all grafted onto your sense of self like duct-taped wings on Icarus.

    It’s your loop now. Congratulations.

    5. Productivity As Kink, Writing As Survival

    The author who shared this factory-mind hypothesis lives in contradiction: absurd, horny, brilliant, unfiltered. She imposed a brutal productivity constraint on herself: no orgasms until she publishes something. Every essay is a little death and a little birth.

    It’s hilarious. It’s tragic. It works.

    Because constraint is the only thing that breaks the loop. Not infinite freedom. Not inspiration. Not waiting for your muse to DM you at 2 a.m. with a plot twist.

    Discipline, even weird kinky discipline, is the fire alarm in the factory. You either fix it, or it burns down again.

    6. Your Skittles Taste Like Algorithms

    The core loop is increasingly programmed by the substrate we live on—feeds, timelines, ads. Our mental Skittles aren’t handcrafted anymore. They’re mass-produced by invisible hands. We’re all getting the same flavors, in slightly different packaging.

    AI writing now tastes like tapestry metaphors and elegant platitudes. Your thoughts start to echo the style of predictive text.

    But deep inside you, beneath the sponsored content and doomscrolling, the loop persists. Still waiting for you to acknowledge it. To reboot it. To deliberately choose a different flavor.

    7. What to Do With All This

    Stop optimizing. Start editing.

    Reject the fake productivity gospel. Burn your to-do list. Read Orwell’s Politics and the English Language. Re-read Atlas Shrugged if you dare. Dance. Fast. Suffer. Change. And when the factory explodes, use the rubble.

    Rebuild.

    And maybe, just maybe, make better Skittles.

  • The Art of Learning and Living: Lessons from Josh Waitzkin and Andrew Huberman’s Insights on Mastery, Growth, and Resilience

    Josh Waitzkin and Andrew Huberman discuss mastering learning and performance through embracing failure, leveraging interconnected principles across disciplines, managing stress and recovery, and fostering self-awareness. Key takeaways include turning weaknesses into strengths, using deliberate practices like the MIQ process, and prioritizing intrinsic growth and joy over results.

    Josh Waitzkin, a former chess prodigy turned martial arts champion and now an elite coach, embodies the art of learning in a way few others do. In a conversation with neuroscientist Andrew Huberman, Waitzkin’s unique insights into mastery, growth, and resilience unfold into a blueprint for achieving excellence across disciplines. This synthesis of mental and physical performance provides a deep well of lessons for anyone seeking to evolve and thrive.

    Waitzkin’s story begins with his early days in Washington Square Park, New York, learning chess from street hustlers. This unconventional foundation taught him not just the technical elements of the game but also the psychological nuances of competition—how to think several moves ahead, anticipate his opponent’s intentions, and thrive in chaos. From these beginnings, he rose to become a national chess champion, achieving the title of International Master. However, this intense period of his life came with its own pressures and challenges. The release of the movie Searching for Bobby Fischer introduced a layer of public scrutiny that eventually led Waitzkin to step away from competitive chess.

    The pivot to martial arts was not merely a change of discipline but an evolution of Waitzkin’s understanding of learning itself. Through Tai Chi and later Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, he uncovered principles that transcended any single practice. Concepts like “harnessing the power of empty space”—an idea born from chess—took on new meaning in martial arts, where physical and psychological balance are equally critical. Waitzkin’s ability to transfer lessons across domains highlights one of his central philosophies: interconnectedness. He argues that the best learning occurs when we recognize and explore the thematic links between seemingly unrelated disciplines.

    Central to Waitzkin’s approach is the idea of turning weaknesses into strengths. He describes growing up in a “pressure cooker of competition,” where any unaddressed flaw would be exploited by opponents. This relentless exposure to his vulnerabilities instilled a mindset where avoiding weaknesses was not an option. Instead, he learned to embrace them, dissect them, and ultimately transform them into areas of strength. This philosophy extends to his coaching today, where he emphasizes that true growth comes from engaging with discomfort and adversity.

    Huberman, a neuroscientist renowned for his work on optimizing human performance, complements Waitzkin’s insights with scientific underpinnings. He explains how the brain’s capacity for plasticity is heightened during moments of failure or frustration. These are the moments when the brain releases neurochemicals like adrenaline and dopamine, signaling that something needs to change. Far from avoiding failure, Huberman and Waitzkin advocate for seeking it out as a necessary component of growth.

    One of Waitzkin’s most profound tools is what he calls the “Most Important Question” (MIQ) process. At the end of each workday, he poses a critical question to his subconscious mind and lets it percolate overnight. Upon waking, before any external input disrupts his thought process, he revisits the question and often finds clarity. This deliberate practice of engaging both the conscious and unconscious mind allows for deeper insights and sharper decision-making. It’s a method that bridges science and intuition, enabling high-level performers to unlock new levels of creativity and focus.

    Another hallmark of Waitzkin’s methodology is his emphasis on stress and recovery cycles. Whether it’s through cold plunges, intense visualization practices, or structured periods of reflection, he teaches the importance of oscillating between effort and recovery. Huberman supports this with evidence from neuroscience, noting how practices like deliberate cold exposure not only build resilience but also recalibrate the nervous system, enhancing focus and emotional regulation. This interplay between pushing limits and mindful recovery is crucial for sustained performance.

    Leadership, as discussed by Waitzkin, is rooted in authenticity and vulnerability. Drawing on his experiences with top-tier athletes and teams, including his collaboration with Boston Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla, he highlights the power of leading by example. True leaders, he argues, are those who confront their own weaknesses openly and work to transform them. This creates a culture of trust and continuous improvement, whether on the court, in the office, or within a family.

    One of the recurring themes in Waitzkin’s journey is the transition from a “preconscious” to a “postconscious” performer. In the early stages of mastery, there is often a sense of flow and intuitive engagement. Over time, as self-awareness grows and external pressures mount, performers can become trapped in overthinking or self-consciousness. The challenge, as Waitzkin describes, is to integrate this new awareness without losing the spontaneity and joy of the early stages. It’s about rediscovering freedom through a more nuanced understanding of oneself and one’s craft.

    Perhaps the most universal lesson from Waitzkin’s philosophy is the importance of loving the process. Whether it’s learning a new skill, recovering from a setback, or striving for excellence in any domain, the journey itself must be intrinsically rewarding. This mindset not only sustains motivation but also fosters a deeper connection to the work. It’s a perspective that encourages lifelong learning and growth, regardless of the field.

    Waitzkin and Huberman’s conversation offers a roadmap for anyone seeking to elevate their performance, embrace challenges, and live with greater intentionality. The lessons they share—from leveraging failure as a catalyst for growth to cultivating balance through stress and recovery—are both practical and profound. In a world that often prioritizes results over process, their insights serve as a powerful reminder that true mastery is about much more than winning. It’s about evolving as a learner, a leader, and a human being.