Posts in How Things Work

How to Read Me

I’ve been meaning to write this post for 6 months. Better late than never I guess. Of course, only a small percentage of you will even see it – but whatever.

Here’s a thought experiment for you.

I’ve noticed many times over the years – some people read my comments as defensive or insulting when I’m really just being dry and unbothered.

The reason is simple misinterpretation.

I read an article a long time ago about how psychologists have found that the way your parents spoke to you can become your inner voice – that little narrator in your head that processes everything you read and hear. If you grew up with defensive or accusatory parents, that’s probably how you’re reading most things, including my comments. These attitudes get embedded in your earliest childhood experiences and stick with you into adulthood.

Now – while your inner voice is programmed, it can also be reprogrammed – through awareness or just life experience – knowingly or unknowingly. Just like some people take on their parents’ religion without question, others can out right reject it.

Anyway, often when I write something straightforward – no emotion, no agenda, just stating facts – some people’s brains automatically add a defensive or aggressive tone that isn’t there. They’re filling in the blanks with their own assumptions and feelings. It’s like they’re reading everything through a filter installed decades ago.

Research shows that people think others understand their messages about 90 percent of the time, but the actual number is closer to 50 percent. That’s a massive gap. And without tone, facial expressions, or body language, text communication forces people to project their own emotional state onto whatever they’re reading.

I’ve struggled with understanding this many times over the years – as you probably have too – thinking that you have communicated something so clearly and then being shocked when someone misinterprets you.

Here’s the thing – my comments should be read in the tone of Daria Morgendorffer – from the 90s Daria cartoon.

Daria observes absurdity and hypocrisy in a completely flat, monotone delivery. She’s not trying to be mean – she’s just calling out what’s ridiculous about a situation. Zero emotion. Just observation with a side of sardonic commentary. That’s my natural state in text.

But some people read me like I’m Kathy Griffin – loud, aggressive, confrontational. When really I’m just… there. Existing. Saying words. Pointing out contradictions. Being direct.

And people often confuse directness with meanness. I don’t do the whole sandwich method of criticism where you say something nice, slip in the real point, then say something nice again to soften the blow. I just say the thing. If someone asks a question, I answer it. If someone’s wrong about something, I correct it. There’s no malice in that – it’s just efficient communication.

This style is usually only a problem for women. People expect us to be “nice” and nurturing, like the whole world is our child. But I communicate with other adults like they are adults. And that may because since I do not have any children (by choice) – I’ve never had to code switch.

That being said – when people communicate with me in a kind and respectful way – I tend to mirror that back.

People tend to assume the worst when the intent of communication isn’t clear, which is probably an evolutionary thing. Our brains still have that negative bias that once alerted our ancestors to potential dangers, and now it just makes us read “OK” as passive-aggressive.

Fun Fact: People who know me in real life have been calling me Daria-like for years. Whether that’s because I actually have that personality or because I absorbed it from working on the same floor as the Daria team at MTV in the late 90s when I was in my 20s – who knows. Probably both.

The RATC character is literally designed to be the anti-Curtis Yarvin. I saw this ridiculous photoshoot where he was wearing a moto biker jacket trying to look edgy, so I put her in one too. The heart sunglasses also serve a specific purpose – they signal that there’s love behind everything I say. Because in the end, I do want the best for everyone.

When I worked with musicians, I’d often have to remind clients that if they thought I was being too critical, it was only because I wanted them to succeed. I respected them enough to be honest with them instead of blowing smoke up their ass. Same principle applies here.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

But don’t get me wrong – to be clear – I don’t care if people disagree with me.

Disagreement is fine. Debate is fine. What gets old is when people come in hot and antagonizing, or when they take a simple factual statement and somehow turn it into a personal attack in their heads. And I admit I sometimes do this too, but honestly, I don’t even mind being insulted as long as you can take it as well as you give it. That’s just fair play.

Anyway, this whole misinterpretation thing is worth thinking about.

Next time you read something and feel yourself getting defensive or offended, ask yourself if the words actually say what you think they say, or if you’re hearing them in a voice that isn’t there. Maybe you’re reading them in your mom’s disappointed tone or your dad’s critical voice, when really they were just written by some person who types the same way they’d order coffee – direct, no frills, moving on with their day.

The point isn’t that I’m being misunderstood and everyone needs to adjust for me. The point is that we’re all walking around projecting our childhood baggage onto neutral text all day long, and maybe – just maybe – we should all take a breath before assuming someone’s being a jerk when they’re really just being… dry.

Okay – good talk.

Protests Don’t Win Overnight, They Build the System That Does

No Kings rallies are recruiting grounds, not final battles

I’ve seen a lot of people say that the No Kings Protest really didn’t move the needle, and they don’t see what the point is.

And they’re right to say marches alone rarely change policy. I’ll say it plainly: rallies do not reopen a shuttered government. They do not flip a single vote in Congress overnight. They are not a shortcut to ending authoritarian moves.

But that is exactly why they matter. Protests are the recruiting ground, not the final battle. They convert passive resentment into active participation. They teach people how to organize permits, marshals, speakers, and media. They build local networks that can register voters, staff campaigns, pressure elected officials, and sustain boycotts or strikes if things get worse. That’s the slow, boring work that actually shifts power.

If you think the arc of democratic defense bends on a single march, you misunderstand how movements work. If you think the last step looks like a march, you’re missing all the other steps. The last step – the one that would seriously force an authoritarian pivot – only becomes thinkable after years of escalating civic engagement, institution-building, and yes, anger that ran out of legal and electoral channels. I am not going to map out those steps. I will not sketch plans to overthrow anything. That is illegal and reckless, and I would NEVER do such a thing.

So I accept the critique: showing up is insufficient. But I also accept the other truth: showing up is necessary.

Each protest is recruitment and rehearsal. Each one widens the pipeline from outrage to action. The people who show up today learn how to do the harder, less photogenic labor tomorrow. And the more who flow into that pipeline, the harder it becomes for an authoritarian push to succeed without encountering organized resistance.

Call the marches symbolic. Fine. Symbols are also scaffolding. If those scaffolds swell into durable institutions, then meaningful pressure follows. If they evaporate, so does the chance to stop something far worse. Which is why I keep showing up and asking how we make the next step less likely to be a last resort.