When I was young, I played a lot of video games. Call of Duty was one of them. I also played Skyrim, Super Smash Bros and Halo. When I was between 10 and 11 years old, one particular game stood out: Pokémon.
Pokemon’s core gameplay revolves around the battles of creatures ( they are called “Pokemon”) that have different types such as grass, fire, or water. Pokemon of different types were more or less effective against each other. Players of equal skill level engaged in chess style battles to try and exploit their opponents’ weaknesses.
Pokemon was not just a strategy-based game. It was an open world adventure, inviting you to explore a mysterious land filled with exotic creatures. You could sail to distant islands, wander in volcanic jungles and search for rare Pokemon in desert biomes.
What is the best part about Pokemon? It was never over. The game does have a story: you capture and raise your Pokemon, fight your way through the “gym leader” characters, defeat the Elite Four and finally defeat the antagonist to become a Pokemon Champion. It doesn’t end there.
Continue exploring the world to capture all the Pokemon. You can make your Pokemon stronger by training them, trade with friends and even transfer your Pokemon between games to improve your squads.
The Nintendo DS was the first handheld device to support WiFi, allowing players from around the world to battle and trade in real-time as long as both parties had a strong internet connection. As the first handheld device with WiFi support, the DS enabled players to trade and battle in real time, provided both parties had a strong internet connection. This constant supply of new opponents made the game even more addictive.
As an 11-year old boy with a strong WiFi connection, I used to sit on the couch in my living room, legs crossed, and play against children from South Korea.
I soon discovered that my opponents were very, very good. It was frustrating to be beaten by kids in 12 different time zones. Until one day I discovered my solution: the Gameshark.
The Gameshark is a device I could plug into the Nintendo DS and upload cheat codes to pretty much any game. With Pokemon Diamond, I was able to boost all my Pokemon up to their maximum levels, find rare Pokemon automatically, and teach any Pokemon an attack move that they were capable of.
So, naturally, I purchased a Gameshark to build a super-team. I had a Level 100 Charizard and Sceptile along with a bunch of other Pokemon that made me unbeatable.
What’s this? It worked. I was unbeatable and was retaliating against the international players who had tortured me for three months. You’ll never guess what happened after that!
The game has become really boring to me.
The winning wasn’t the only thing that was boring. The victories would have likely been more satisfying if I had trained and caught my own Pokemon.
I did not train, catch, or work with them. I typed a code to create the 1992 Dream Team of Pokemon and then went on my warpath. Yes, I got what I wanted. The game’s appeal was lost because I didn’t do the other tasks.
Recently, I’ve been playing around with AI tools. Especially ChatGPT. ChatGPT’s cool. It’s cool. It’s really cool.
Now that crypto has died, that tech stocks have fallen 80% and that everyone is on board the AI bandwagon, it is generally agreed that AI will eventually replace 90% of the writing, because it is able to produce high-quality results in minutes rather than hours.
This argument is not relevant.
If writing was merely a tool to achieve a goal, such as churning out text after the other, this hypothesis would have some validity. Writing is much more than a quaint activity that needs a technological upgrade. Let me explain why.
Let’s say I ask you: How much money is optimal?
You can say $1M.
You might say $10M.
You might want to enjoy the finer things in life, so you need at least $100M.
You may say $0 if you think that money is evil. I don’t really know. It’s subjective and will result in a subjective response. It’s really up to you. Let’s go deeper.
Why does $____ represent the ideal amount of money to spend?
The answer to the question “What is the ideal amount of money?” It’s as easy as stating a single number. How did you arrive at that number? That’s another story. Say you choose $1M. Why did you pick it? You chose it because a million dollars sounds good? It’s seven figures. You think that $1M in investment returns would be sufficient to supplement your other incomes over the course of a lifetime? You are just a fan of vanity metrics, and you want to be millionaire.
What is your “why?” Why is a million good for you? Why would you consider $1M to be enough? Why is the label “millionaire” so important?
Each answer opens up a new question, as you dig deeper into the assumptions that underlie your answers. You can only peel away so many layers of information with your brain before it runs out of computing power.
You must write if you want to get deeper.
You start by writing your answer down. $1M. $10M. $100M. $0. The range. Something. You write down the reasons for your belief. Start researching your assumptions. You adjust your answer when you realize your assumptions are incorrect. You continue down the rabbit-hole. You skim the work of others who have written on this topic. You may quote their work in your essay because it resonates with your new thesis. Every single update and improvement is recorded.
You read it again and find that the entire thing is awful. This is not something anyone would want to see, you tell yourself. “I’m rambling. You revise the text. You cut out all the fluff. You rearrange the sections to make it cohesive. You let it rest. You read it again in the morning. You realize two things.
” This is so different from what I originally thought. ” & ” Wow, this looks great. “
You would never have achieved this clarity if you had not sat down and written.
All of us have different opinions in a wide range of fields, including politics, economics, finances and dating preferences. We also differ on the importance of historical events. We *think* we understand these topics, as well as countless others because we can visualize ideas and form opinions.
Our thoughts are fleeting.
We don’t have time to digest an idea and realize what we are missing. Before we can finish processing ‘What is the optimal level of wealth?, our mind has been distracted by our iPhone, police sirens outside, or other things. That half-conceived thought disappears just as fast as it appeared.
Written words, however, are not subject to the fluctuations of the brain. The incoherent words and shallowness of the arguments we make taunt us. To add depth to our arguments and to resolve these gaps, we must write more. And the only way for us to write more is by thinking and reading and researching more. You think, read, research and then write.
If you persist, your essay will eventually come together into a beautiful piece.
You have the answer to your question: “What is an optimal level of wealth?
Writing is a process that can be frustrating, painful, and even mind-numbing. But it will eventually become beautiful and transformative. This is a positive, not a negative. The “creating” part of writing is not like the Ford assembly line where efficiency is paramount.
Thinking is writing.
By outsourcing writing to AI, you are sacrificing your ability to develop your own ideas and explore your opinions. You can certainly answer a question but not gain any insight. You may be able to produce an answer but learn nothing in the process.
These AI tools are amazing, and I use many of them. Efficiency comes at a price, and I wouldn’t be willing to trade my understanding for it.
