Asymptomatic

There must be intelligent life down here

Keep-Alive

There’s a guy in my band at School of Rock – funny, good taste in music, takes the playing seriously without being precious about it. We get along well. After rehearsal we pack up our gear, say “good one tonight,” and go home. We’ve done this for months.

I know what he does for a living; we’ve talked about it in the green room on performance nights. But I don’t know much beyond that. I don’t know anything about his life outside the room where we play music together. And I’m pretty sure he’d say the same about me.

The Nail Gun Problem

I read an article recently claiming that AI will replace spreadsheets. The argument goes something like this: why wrestle with pivot tables and VLOOKUP when you can just ask AI to generate code that does the same thing, but better? It sounds reasonable. It sounds like progress. And it fundamentally misunderstands what kind of leap we’re talking about.

Going from a calculator to Excel is a meaningful increase in both power and complexity. You have to learn a new interface, internalize a new mental model, develop intuitions about what the tool can and can’t do. That’s real cognitive load, and it’s why plenty of people resist the jump.

Starting School of Rock

Back in November, I walked into School of Rock in Downingtown and asked about learning to play keyboard. The next day, I came back to watch a rehearsal for a show in production. By the end of that night, I’d agreed to play keyboard on a couple of songs I barely knew. A month later, I had my first live rock band performance under my belt.

This is how School of Rock works, and it’s one of the weirdest experiences I’ve had in a while. I take lessons just before my performance rehearsals, seeing a teacher on nights when the band meets. In the past when I’ve tried music lessons, there was always a hard sell—the teacher would push expensive recurring packages. This time, my teacher literally looked at me after the lesson like “why are you still here?” But it wasn’t because he didn’t want to teach. The whole school seems oriented around people wanting to be there because they want to make music. Get your lesson, get to rehearsal, go make music.

The Different Gear

I’ve seen this pattern before. Work tightens - end-of-year reviews, auditors wanting receipts on every decision, the odd mathematics of pursuing a promotion while doing the current job and creating space for whoever inherits it. Half-hour blocks stacked into a grid where each one demands a different mental model.

And when that ends, I don’t rest. I add more.