The paradox of choice – the illusion of perfection

Ever since I could remember I’ve always liked only one flavour of Lay’s potato chips: the original. The classic yellow bag which contained at a minimum of 50% air was my go-to bag of chips. I didn’t care for all the new flavours the brand was producing.
The other day I went to the grocery store and realized they didn’t sell Lays in the UK. Blasphemy. I looked on the shelf and was completely overwhelmed by the choices.
I invested in a stock in 2020 where I ended up 20x my return in a year, only to then feel bad for not somehow magically catching on to the craze of Gamestop. I constantly have to remind myself that my investment was based on research and rational decision making, whereas Gamestop was an incredibly unique, and otherwise, completely random spike in value that made a few people very wealthy.
My 5th-grade teacher always told me “never let good enough be good enough.” I was actually very thankful for him as a teacher because he always pushed me to be a better student – I was lackadaisical, and I think both of us knew that I could put in more effort.
When I used to blog every day, I did it on the deep-rooted acceptance that many of my submissions would be poorly written posts.
I am afraid of submitting “send” on my dissertation. 20 pages, 8000 words, 3 months of work. I nevertheless have to submit it, even though it can always get better.
The illusion of perfection, the paradox of choice, paralysis of analysis—whatever you want to call it—the psychological condition where you incessantly ask yourself: is this good enough?
At times I’ve begun hitting the wall. Better is never enough. Enough is not enough. There is always something else. This is not healthy.
On social media, there is an adage where people like to say “There will always be an Asian kid better than you.” I grew up both fearing that person and expecting to be that person. I am at a balance of feeling young with potential but underaccomplished; that I have a lot of time yet I am behind. I look back at old videos, old memories, old blog posts and reminisce about a life that wasn’t so serious and stressful.
At these times I feel nostalgic that my life is going by so quickly. I can only accept that there is more happiness along the journey I am going on – and accepting that I made the right choice – and that Lays will continue selling their original classic flavour.

Limits of knowledge

My philosophy dissertation is an 8000-word essay (that’s roughly 20 pages, single-spaced) that I’ve spent 3 months working on. As I approach the tail end of my time at Cambridge University, I’ve changed my dissertation thesis conclusion at nearly every draft. I began with conclusion “X”, then I completely changed my thesis to be conclusion “not X.” Now, it looks like I’ll essentially be submitting an essay arguing for X + Y.

Knowledge is a daunting thing to seek. The more I learn, the more I become hauntingly aware of the limits to my knowledge. It goes back to my sense of imposter syndrome.

There is the process of base information – surface-level learning. This stage is very dangerous because if you accept this surface-level information every time, you easily subject yourself to influences. There is no wisdom. The genuine process of learning is challenging your initial beliefs – unlearning and then relearning – and then rechallenging the new set of beliefs. And that’s what I’ve been doing with my education here at Cambridge – pushing the limits of my knowledge.

I’ve never been more intellectually challenged in the field of philosophy as in my short time here at Cambridge. I am excited to formally organize my thoughts and submit my dissertation – a culmination of the work I’ve done the past 3 months. In this home stretch, I hope I can produce quality work that I am proud of. Because, as scary as learning can be sometimes, it’s also rewarding, enticing, and addictive.

I am so happy I went on this journey.

Sonder: the realization that everyone has a story

I’m in Edinburgh this week and decided to watch the Beauty & the Beast musical by myself today.

In the programme I searched up the names of the actors and the actresses. Belle was played by Courtney Stapleton, an LGBTQ+ Black actress. I was happy to see her success. Also, I found it unique watching a musical where you could tell everyone had a slight different UK accent of some sort (distinctly non-NA). Though I’m sure some of the accents were more purposefully accentuated.

I sat in the directors VIP box – to my right there was a family with a young daughter dressed in a yellow Belle dress. She had to tiptoe over the balcony to get a good view. It was adorable. I wondered what she liked about Belle.

As the show ended, a flood of students in uniform excited the theatre led by students. I thought of my past school activities and how fun they were – being a young innocent kid, watching a musical on a Wednesday afternoon.

As I walked the streets of Edinburgh looking for food, I stood looking in at a Japanese Ramen shop. It was packed. Two older ladies walked by me and gestured towards the restaurant, asking whether they should try this “Chinese” restaurant. I felt a little saddened that she didn’t have the life experience to distinguish the two types of cuisine.

I saw a father and her daughter walking around, putting up signs of their missing cat. The daughter gripping the picture of the cat, the father holding a roll of tape. The father said something, a European language, which all I knew was not French. Actually, I caught a quick glance of a flag on his jacket, which I assumed was Spain. I felt a little saddened that I didn’t have the life experience to distinguish the language they were speaking. I hope they find their cat.

The privilege of being able to travel and experience global perspectives cannot be overstated.

This feeling does not exist in the English dictionary, but fortunately John Koenig invented one

Sonder: the realization that everyone has a story

How Jazz Music can make you a better boxer

I first started boxing and Muay Thai back in Singapore. I trained with Muay Thai world champion Nong-O Gaiyanhadao.

Now that I’ve finally gotten off my mother’s couch and back in school, I picked up boxing again while at Cambridge. And, although I am very well still a rookie, I did my first light sparring session this week and learned an interesting point in how music can make me a better boxer.

When it comes to boxing combinations, my trainer has taught me it’s not so simple as 1-2-3 punch. There is a methodical rhythm to it, and I’ve been able to relate this to my past studies in music and particularly jazz music.

Musical sheet compositions are usually written in a set time signature, 4/4 is the most basic and rudimentary, meaning FOUR quarter notes per “bar” of notes. The denominator dictates the value of the note, while the numerator dictates how many of that note. So 3/4 means three-quarter notes. 7/8 means seven eighth notes, 6/8 means six eighth notes, and so forth. The time signature, along with the tempo (speed of the song) dictates the rhythm.

But if you are boxing off a predictable “time signature,” you become an easy target. Predictable is good in classical music – while note so good in a fight. That’s why the rhythm you might learn in jazz music is important in boxing – the rhythm changes, adapts, stops and goes, and sometimes, there’s no discernable “time signature” at all. There is a lot of improvisation, especially when it’s your turn for jazz solos, with many “rest” notes. In music, the short pauses and silence in between can create dramatic effects.

And so, in boxing, it isn’t as simple as throwing your 1-2-3 combo punch every time. You take turns, trading with your opponent, but if you dictate the rhythm, you can win. So 1-2-3 can instead become 1-dodge-2 -3. Instead of throwing three punches in a row, you adapt, put in rest notes for yourself to dodge or block, feinting, changing your time signature rhythm entirely to throw off your opponent.

And the best part about music and boxing: it’s really fun when you get in the “zone” and flow with your rhythm that you create

Performance Anxiety

Performance Anxiety of Friendships
In high school, I was a theatre kid. Every year I had to not only perform in front of my peers during class, depending on what we were studying (film, theatre, movement, mime, etc) but I also acted in the annual productions our school put on.
I can distinctly remember the moments before going on stage. The anxiety of waiting in the side wings, waiting for your cue, as you rehearse the lines and movements over and over in your head. If you mess up the entrance, then everything else feels shattered. The first line breaks the ice, and it has to be perfect.
Despite being the theatre kid, the magician, the public speaker, I still considered myself nervous and had symptoms of performance anxiety.
In my senior year, I somehow managed to perform for The VIew in New York City. Not on live television, just at the end of the taping, in front of the audience and hosts. My hands and legs were shaking so much, I remember my friend grabbing me and telling me to calm down. Her intentions were nice, but her advice certainly did not do the trick.
Performance anxiety is always a hurdle for me – but it has, not that I can recall, ever stopped me from actually performing. Do you know why?
Because the anxiety, for me, always occurs before I actually have to perform. Everything happens before I physically land on stage. It’s a big hurdle, to say the least. But once I’ve leapt over, what happens on stage feels very natural. I’m in the zone. This is my stage, literally. I command it.
The times I have anxiety on stage is when I feel like there’s something left to be desired for my preparation. It doesn’t happen often, but I know the feeling of not being in the zone. When a performance feels unnatural, it feels too much like a “performance” and unironically ruins the allure of the show.
I have performance anxiety with relationships sometimes. When I catch myself “performing” to fit in – to show the fun, exciting, magic performing, outgoing person. I can do it. I can be social. But it’s all really a performance.
I’m much rather be curled up in my bed, watching a video about the Nobel Prize Winners of Economics in their contributions to Labour Productivity with increased Minimum Wages and Causal relationships. That example might be too specific, and it’s because that’s quite literally what I left the Halloween party being held in the living room of my apartment to do. I guess the great part about having a party at your house is that you have the benefit of leaving whenever you want.
Performance Anxiety in relationships makes it unnatural. It shouldn’t be a performance – but we so often have an idea of what we want to convey to the outside world. Do I want to be the smart person who knows things – the trivia guy? Or the person who is rowdy, I can drink a lot, I’m spontaneous, exciting. Maybe you want people to think you’re sociable, or the nice person, or the funny guy.
I want people to have a good impression of me, so I put on a performance. If you get the first line wrong, your image is shattered.
But the image I’m trying to preserve is never the real me. At least, not at a college party. Large group socialising is not who I am. Performance anxiety persists because I feel like a fraud – like pretending I am enjoying myself, because, that’s what you’re supposed to do at a party. But that image is one I am okay with shattering.

Theories of Value and how to measure Value

I’m profoundly curious about what makes things in our world valuable.


According to philosopher Immanuel Kant, there are generally two “worlds” we can speak of, that is, the external world of human experiences (Kant calls this the phenomenal world); contrastingly, there is also the noumenal world, or “things in themselves,” or intelligible world. Side note: there can certainly be other “worlds,” as well as other types of knowledge besides empirical knowledge and noumenal knowledge.


I want to strictly talk about the external world right now – the noumenal world is too vast and difficult for me to comprehend in a short blog post – and surely, Kant admits himself, is rather difficult if not impossible to discern with pure reason.


The external world is what we know as empirical reality. This is where science lives. Physics – not metaphysics – can be proven, experimented with, and discerned with data. Only once you have mastered physics, can you study beyond physics – the metaphysics – as Ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle noted.


So how do we describe ‘value’ in this external world of human experiences?


Let’s talk for example the famous water-diamond paradox of value. Let’s assume a 500-ml bottle of water and a 24-karat diamond.


In the rich western world, we have mutually agreed that diamonds have high value. (Well perhaps mutually agreed-upon may be the wrong language – I certainly wouldn’t want to discredit decades of savvy marketing and psychological warfare in convincing the general population of the value of this rock). However, as a general population, it would be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t recognize the value of a diamond – if not for personally valuing it, then recognizing its value on the ‘market’ IE selling it to someone else for a quick buck.


Now, in the market economy, we can objectively declare this 24-karat diamond to be more ‘valuable’ than a 500-ml bottle of water. Yet, some context can be easily applied here: what if you are planning a trip to the Sahara desert, a solo trek across the dunes? I would be shocked if you packed a bag of diamonds rather than several bottles of water. A dehydrated, stranded individual in the desert would value that bottle of water as equivalent to life – surely that is priceless.


This scenario we’ve painted suggests that value, at least to some degree, requires context. And I would suggest precisely this. But my frustration here is that if value requires context, then how do we discern between objective value and contextual value?


In economics, intrinsic value is considered objectively measurable – if you were, say, wanting to measure the intrinsic value of Microsoft stock, you could technically calculate its net present value by using historical growth and dividend data, inflation rates, interest rates, etc. Of course, there are still some certain assumptions you might have to make, such as constant growth vs linear growth vs. exponential growth, and the assumption of no Black Swan events in the near future (like the panorama 19…) I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it but in one of my calculations (purposely in the plural, because there are other calculations), Microsoft stock should range from roughly $100-180 based on intrinsic value, with a best-case scenario of $250. As of October 10th, 2021, Microsoft stock is trading at $300. Why?


That’s because the stock market is not strictly a mathematical game – it is a war ground for financial chaos, psychological warfare, and profound uncertainty. When sentiment is confident, and people are overzealous to make money, they buy and prices go up. When things look grim, and blood is on the streets, the stock markets will bleed red. The reason I mention the stock market is because I want to emphasise that intrinsic objective value is not the only way we value things – humans are not strictly rational objectively measuring deciding agents.


So now we have given some criteria on value. How we value things depends on context, as the water-diamond paradox shows. A physical polaroid picture of your dog becomes much more valuable to you, personally, when your best friend passes away. That picture becomes astronomically more valuable when all your digital pictures of them disappear, and that polaroid is the last remaining.


The stock market example showed us that value isn’t just objectively measured – yes, we do have fancy theorems for measuring objective value with math, but not everyone adheres to it, and I would suggest most people don’t even know compeltely how these objective measurable theories work (myself included) if they even know that they exist. This extra value away from the intrinsically measured value in Microsoft stock is extrinsic, or, I will call irrational/hopeful value. People don’t buy Microsoft stock at $300 without hoping, mostly irrationally, that it’s worth more than $300.

  1. Contextual value
  2. Objective/Intrinsic Value
  3. Extrinsic/Hopeful Value

Now, bear with me, because this is where things get a little abstract and confusing. Philosophers have their own definition of intrinsic value, and it is loosely defined as “things in themselves as a final end.” Everything else that isn’t a final end, as in a means to an end, is not intrinsically valuable.

Things for their own sake are what we should consider valuable. This usually excludes things like money and materialism. Instead, it includes abstract ends: happiness, beauty, beatitude, truth, love, the sublime, friendship, peace.
In the external world, it becomes incredibly hard to describe to one another why we value things. Why is this friendship valuable? Why is a rising/setting sun beautiful? Who dictates these values? And how do we go about measuring them? It might be a futile endeavour to do so, but that result is unsatisfying to the economist who wants to measure decision making.


Ultimately I don’t know the answers to all these questions; there are so many different theories of value, and I only proposed a primer on a few. What I do want to suggest, if you ended up reading this far, is to start questioning how you personally value things in your human experience. If we being to ask ourselves why we do the things we do, and what ultimate good, or end, that we consider intrinsically valuable according to the philosophers, then maybe we can start figuring out what type of life we want to live.

What my Cold taught me about [my] Gods

What my Cold taught me about [my] Gods

Unfortunately, I have not been able to spend 10 hours in the library every day for the past 3 days as I’ve been suffering from a cold and bedridden in my dorm room – ordering in food and self-isolating from my friends on the off-chance that I have the Canon-19. It’s nothing serious and I’m taking the important precautions. But oh, how the Cambridge libraries call for my return. Hopefully it will be swift. But here is a blog post in the meanwhile.

Palmar grasp reflex refers to the primitive instinct found in infant humans and most primates. It refers to when we reflexively grasp onto objects in our hands – we naturally flex our fingers to hold on, holding on to life, for hope someone is there to take care of us.

For those fortunate enough to have parents be present in their childhood, you know what it feels like to be sick as a kid: your mother tucks you in, feeds you some medicine you can’t even pronounce the names of, and nurses you back to health. I distinctly remember my mother feeding me this steaming hot ginger chicken soup, an old Chinese traditional remedy, that made me sweat away the poisons of the illness. At the very least, it acted as a placebo, and I drank away expecting it to cure me.

As a child, anytime we ran into troubles, from a small (or large) scrape on the knee from playing on the playground, to doing your math homework, and yes, when you get a cold, we would naturally go to our parents. They would know what to do. 

If you grew up in a non-religious household (and maybe even in a religious household), you might share the same unconscious realization as a kid: our parents are Gods.

Somehow, someway, my mother would solve any problem that I didn’t know how to solve nor had the experience yet to tackle. She knew more than me. She was bigger, stronger, smarter, and wiser. She knew how to make ginger soup! She was unstoppable.

I had a natural, and unconscious, dependency. It was ingrained in my mind to call my mother in dire situations. I have vivid memories practicing reciting her phone number, 604-xxx-xxxx like a little song, dating back to when I was 5. 

Then university came along. Suddenly I went from seeing my mother every day to the occasional text. I had to be reminded of this drastic lifestyle shift again last month when I returned to my studies, after being home for over a year due to the panorama.

However, although the persona you created that your parents can do anything is an unconscious manifestation, eventually, you have to consciously come to the realization that your parents are not Gods, and that they do not have the answer nor guidance for every path you want to take. If I wanted to go to school in the states, I had to do my own research, self-study for the SAT and AP exams, following in the footsteps of others I’ve seen. A career in law, academia, finance? Or perhaps traveling the world, to countries and cities they’ve never even heard of? Thankfully we have Google, but still, these are daunting, individual ventures.

The realization that my mother doesn’t have the answer to everything is a sudden disappointment, but a necessary one to forge my own path where the onus lies on me.

Certainly, there were times I was internally frustrated with my parents for not having the answers I so desperately wanted from them to help guide me in my high school studies, to university life, to my chronic health issues. But I think I’ve largely come to terms with them, or at the very least, I’m aware of their origin and irrationality. The struggles and frustrations and uncertainties of my life are vastly different from that of my mother’s, and although I can always depend on her to support me with love. So maybe my mother can’t teach me how to play Scar in the Lion King, but she may have other experiences or stories I can learn from. She isn’t a God who knows how to solve all my problems. I don’t believe in Gods. 

My mother is not a God – she’s much cooler, because she can make chicken ginger soup.


Like most of my blog posts, this one is inspired by my studies in philosophy, and particularly of a podcast by Stephen West “Philosophize This” on Kant, Episode 7.

A new imposter syndrome journey

I am so deeply afraid of imposter syndrome.

It started when I was 15 and was appointed as the new concertmaster of my high school’s strings orchestra over a senior, I genuinely believed she was better than me at violin, but I understood the rationale of my teacher’s choice as I would assume the position for the next three years. I felt like an imposter, because the concert master before me had been playing violin for nearly as long as I’d been alive, and I had only started in my teenage years. He was someone I looked up to greatly as an inspiration, a quite literal genius who would go on to UPENN and study medicine at Mayo Clinic.

In my senior year of high school I got the role of Scar in our production of Lion King. I felt like a fraud. I fought constantly with my director, I had never seen a teacher get so frustrated with me. I was used to being the golden student.

In university, I am known as the magician. I was invited to and performed multiple stage shows. Again, I felt like an imposter. I’m not nearly as good as the magicians I aspire to be like, and I fear that some day, another magician will see my stage performance and call me out for using simple and mainstream tricks.

(delayed flight by two days) today I’ll be taking a plane and leaving my home city for the first time since 2019 to spend a semester abroad at Cambridge University.

I have an essay due on my first supervision at Cambridge, which are the weekly 1-on-1 tutorial sessions you take at Cambridge for the course you are s studying. The essay is about intuition and Kant’s explanations of reality. There’s no hiding in a class where you are the only student.

IMPOSTER SYNDROME TO THE MAX

But. Here’s the weird thing. I haven’t had this imposter syndrome feeling since 2019 before I had to come home. I always have imposter syndrome when I’m doing awesome things: when I’m performing violin solos, giving monologues as Scar, and performing magic to a full auditorium back at Villanova. “I shouldn’t be here,” I think to myself, right before I stand in front of hundreds of people and perform a magic trick for the first time.

People often get this imposter syndrome feeling when they are uncomfortable.  But is it specifically those situations where you go out of your comfort zone that you grow and do amazing things. These are the moments I need to relish and enjoy. This is what it feels like to feel alive.

I want to feel uncomfortable. I want to do great things again. I genuinely feel like I lost the past two years of my life. The past two years have been god awful. I think that narrative has been shared with a lot of people. But I don’t want this to be a pity story

The next two years will be different. I can only hope it will be. Today I am stepping out of my comfort zone, away from my family for the first time in two years, away from the couch I called home. A new country, a new imposter syndrome journey at Cambridge… More life.

Proud to be Asian-American

I am Unapologetically Asian

In 2020 I was constantly asking myself how I could be an ally for BIPOC and the BLM movement
I started with little things. The basics of social media: share, like, and interact with posts. That moved to taking a class on the discussion of race and reaching out to my Black friends and peers just to check-in. I wanted to let them know that at the very least, I was listening. Listening to Black voices through videos, articles, books, essays, and research. At the end of the semester, I decided to focus two thesis papers from my history economics course and my philosophy course on the history of slavery and equality to try and convey these injustices. I still have a lot to learn.

Personally. I’ve never particularly felt that my ethnicity would pose a danger to myself and my family. It was, for the longest time, something I could not truly fathom, a fear that is experienced by many other minorities. Sure, I heard the regular scheduled xenophobic comments here and there, like open your eyes, or what are you eating it smells so bad, and the occasional chink. But I never felt like my skin color would make my life more dangerous because I live in a town that is quite literally greater than 50% comprised of Asians.

On March 10, 2020, we officially entered into a global pandemic

I knew the flood of racist comments was coming. We would be the scapegoat; and bigots around the world now had an opportunity, banded together, to unleash their racism.

“The China virus”

It was our fault. How dare we? Go home. We are not welcome

Racist people can’t even be racist properly. Non-Chinese Asians, to my understanding, were similarly attacked. People don’t care if you’ve never even been to China. If you look Asian, you were the problem.
I remember in my race class explaining the history of why China (and other parts of Asia) eat dogs. China as a country has a very poor history. When you have 1.4 billion people to feed, and poverty running rampant, the breadth of what is considered “edible” expands. China’s poor history is how we can trace a lot of my culture’s cuisine: stinky tofu, hocks feet, chicken feet, cow intestines are all staples of Chinese cuisine. It took me no more than a few minutes to explain this but it allowed my peers to sympathize with my culture. They listened.
The past few months I am utterly shocked and irat

The deep-rooted racism towards Asians is peering out as we have become scapegoats for current events
I started doing research. Readings and articles and videos have shown the increasing PHYSICAL assault and VIOLENCE that Asians are experiencing. I am sick to my stomach seeing people assault, rob and attack my people. A video of an elderly Chinese man being pushed to the side of the road made me want to hurl. The cries of a Chinese grandmother being robbed and assaulted made me feel so deeply sick. People with the same Chinese surname as me, appearing on the news, being assaulted and brutally attacked. Today, I saw on the news of another Asian owned-store being robbed. A 46-year-old good samaritan Yong Zheng saw the robbery, and along with other pedestrians, tried to chase the robbers. Zheng saw a crime and tried to stop it. He was stabbed four times and died upon arrival at NYU Hospital.
I didn’t realize until recently how bad it’s been. And then I looked at my own history and realized that I’ve felt this unease first hand this past year.

A few weeks ago I shared on Instagram the public racist comments of three random people calling me a chink and other racist comments. In 2020 I also experienced physical violence because of my race. In Vancouver, where Asian culture is such a prominent aspect of our city, Asian hate crimes have increased by over 700% in 2020. It is only getting worse.

So what can we do?

I don’t know

I am still trying to figure out how these systemic issues can be solved. But like my devotion to better study BLM and Black history in North America, I believe it is education and awareness, and sympathy, that we need to spread
And so I am going to make a promise to better understand my own history and the history of Asians.

WE ARE NOT JUST A MODEL MINORITY

But please. A simple thing you can do is watch out and protect us. Be an ally and stand with us and hear our voices. We are not just a model minority. We feel the same pain as other POC for not having the systemic privileges of being born white.

I watched a report that there was this Black family that patrolled around the neighborhood in Compton during the day to just be a watchful eye for violence against POC. This warmed my heart and I felt the love and allyship being reciprocated.

I just want to know that we have allies. I know we do. And in an unprecedented time, community and friendship and family and allyship are more important than ever. It’s time for everyone else to open their eyes as well to see that we are being attacked and discriminated against.. I ask that you spend just as much time discussing these injustices and actively fighting against systemic racism as you do talking about how much you love KBBQ, Sushi, Bubble Tea, and Dim Sum.
Please continue to Listen.

Please continue to watch out for your fellow Asian friends.

WE ARE NOT JUST A MODEL MINORITY

For the leading source of Asian American News, follow @NextShark on Instagram. Please be advised some of the posts may be disturbing for audiences.

For learning more about Asian-American culture, WongFu productions on YouTube is a household name for producing very high-quality entertainment videos, dramas, comedy, rom-com, and other great skits, even having a movie released on Netflix. I highly recommend their short rom-com series “What is a Yappie?” free on YouTube.

This post is not to take away from the suffering from other communities around the world. Right wow more than ever we need to unite through our humanity

I will try to continue to post resources and links on my social media on how you can stay up to date on Asian-(North)American news.

Like, share, comment, repost. Our voices need to be heard.

Much love,

Jeff

Buying Bitcoin in 2014

Everyone wishes they bought Bitcoin or got in on the GME hype or invested in [insert exponential growth investment]
I remember back in 2014 was when I first heard about Bitcoin and was offered it as payment. I’d be a multimillionaire today if I had accepted it.
But I always think that getting in on these hype investments is synonymous to winning the lottery ticket. A lot of luck is involved. (I will give mad props though to early adopters who researched fundamentals)
But anyways
There is a lot of research that shows people who win the lottery don’t have significant long term changes in happiness.
Here are likely a few reasons for this
1) winning the lottery means you became wealthy not off meritocracy but off luck. This is not a great feeling
2) the skills, hard work and experience of building wealth is skipped. Your wealth changed but you didn’t gain any new skills or knowledge
3) going from 1 to 100 in wealth is difficult to manage. We are bad at step-ladder increments as opposed to linear. IE we flinch at initial hot water, but can slowly increase the showers heat as we slowly adapt to new temperature
Anyways
I ocassionaly think about these things to make myself feel better for not accepting a few hundred Bitcoins back in 2014
Does anyone know what the next Max Lotto prize pool is?