I am a technological whore, as are those of you reading this on your laptop, tablet, desktop, cell phone, Google glasses, game system, television, or have voice read to you by one of the increasingly available artificially intelligent algorithms that you can chit chat with, ask questions of, tell to read your blog posts for you, and then flippantly ask to unsubscribe from my RSS feed. Many of you steer yourselves to work in machines forged from chunks of dead stars that we’ve torn from the earth, fused together, and imbued with propulsion fueled by dead dinosaur carcasses liquefied in the crust of our planet.
Because we can.
It is the utmost universal cruelty that the one piece of analysis that evades the computer sitting on our shoulders is… the very computer itself. Psychology, psychiatry, neuroscience, sociology, anthropology, philosophy… We’ve developed science upon science, method upon method, and angle upon angle to deal with the meat calculator shoved in our skull and we still can’t really answer the simplest questions about ourselves, our brains.
Our inability to truly solve one specific question with science is most frustrating: What makes us happy?
For me the answer has been definitely discovered to be cheese, but I’m a statistical anomaly
The Self Betterment Campaign 