Researchers at Apple have come out with a new paper showing that large language models can’t reason — they’re just pattern-matching machines. [arXiv, PDF] This shouldn’t be news to anyone here. We …
How nice it must be to never ponder how large humanity is, and how each and every person you see outside has a full and rich interior and exterior world, and you that only see a tiny fraction of the people outside.
Personally one of my “oh other people are real!” moment, was when our parents (along with my sisters) took us on a surprise ferry trip to England (from France) and our grandparents that—at least as far as kid me remembered—we only ever saw in their home city, were waiting for us in Portsmouth, and we visited the city together (Portsmouth Historic Dockyard is quite nice btw).
I knew they were real, but realizing that they weren’t geo-locked, made me more fully internalize that they had full and independent lives, and therefore that everyone had.
How about people here? When did you realize people are real?
How nice it must be to never ponder how large humanity is, and how each and every person you see outside has a full and rich interior and exterior world, and you that only see a tiny fraction of the people outside.
I don’t think that’s nice. That sounds extremely bleak and depressive, not to mention downright sociopathic.
How about people here? When did you realize people are real?
I just have this basic human feeling of appreciation whenever someone close goes out of their way to do something nice for me. It’s always this reminder of hey, I exist in other peoples’ lives as well, isn’t that cool!
How about people here? When did you realize people are real?
When I moved out for the first real time. I realised my parents were whole human beings in their own right, and by extension every other person in the world.
I know that might make me sound stupid as I was an adult when I had that realisation. I mean it as the first time I really understood and internalised that idea. Everyone is on their own journey. Also not disputing me being a dumbass, there is plenty I do not know.
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t understand everyone else had a life and thoughts of their own, just like I do. Maybe it helps that I grew up with a sibling of a similar age.
How nice it must be to never ponder how large humanity is, and how each and every person you see outside has a full and rich interior and exterior world, and you that only see a tiny fraction of the people outside.
Personally one of my “oh other people are real!” moment, was when our parents (along with my sisters) took us on a surprise ferry trip to England (from France) and our grandparents that—at least as far as kid me remembered—we only ever saw in their home city, were waiting for us in Portsmouth, and we visited the city together (Portsmouth Historic Dockyard is quite nice btw).
I knew they were real, but realizing that they weren’t geo-locked, made me more fully internalize that they had full and independent lives, and therefore that everyone had.
How about people here? When did you realize people are real?
I don’t think that’s nice. That sounds extremely bleak and depressive, not to mention downright sociopathic.
I wouldn’t swap it for the world ^^, but maybe a tad fewer existantial crises would be nice (no monkey-paw curls plz)
To respond to this part:
I just have this basic human feeling of appreciation whenever someone close goes out of their way to do something nice for me. It’s always this reminder of hey, I exist in other peoples’ lives as well, isn’t that cool!
When I moved out for the first real time. I realised my parents were whole human beings in their own right, and by extension every other person in the world.
I know that might make me sound stupid as I was an adult when I had that realisation. I mean it as the first time I really understood and internalised that idea. Everyone is on their own journey. Also not disputing me being a dumbass, there is plenty I do not know.
still difficult for me, I think it’s part of my flavor of autism
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t understand everyone else had a life and thoughts of their own, just like I do. Maybe it helps that I grew up with a sibling of a similar age.