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On Self-Delusion and Bounded Rationality

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I was going to start by declaring that, since no one besides me will ever read this journal, I might as well write the truth. But such a refrain is, in truth, unnecessary, for truth is my ground state; I'm a habitual truth-teller. Take what happened this afternoon. This guy Eric who sits next to me in BC calculus was ogling me the whole period. He's not the first; plenty of guys at Westbrook High drool over me until they discover my psychotic hyperrationality. And ought I to blame them? My orange hair is lustrous, my high cheekbones reliable Darwinian indicators of fertility, my breasts—what adjective won't sound hackneyed?—paraboloid. Their volumes are given roughly by ½πR2L, so maybe Eric did learn some calculus today. (Me, I learned the subject from a book a few years ago. But let me speak no more of classwork, for even to contemplate it fills me with knife-like jolts of boredom.) After class, Eric cornered me in the hall. "Hi, Ilyssa!" "Hi!" I untied the gray sweatshirt aro

On Self-Delusion and Bounded Rationality On Self-Delusion and Bounded Rationality by Scott Aaronson I was going to start by declaring that, since no one besides me will ever read this journal, I might as well write the truth.� But such a refrain is, in truth, unnecessary, for truth is my ground state; I'm a habitual truth-teller. Take what happened this afternoon. This guy Eric who sits next to me in BC calculus was ogling me the whole period.� He's not the first; plenty of guys at Westbrook High drool over me until they discover my psychotic hyperrationality. And ought I to blame them? My ora

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