Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The King's Speech (and me)

Tonight, I finally gathered the courage to watch The King's Speech. Why did I need courage to watch a movie, you might ask? The reason is both simple and intricately complex:

I'm a stutterer (Edit: person who stutters; "stutterer" is not who I am, but something that I do from time to time), and I have been for as long as I remember.

Well, there it is - I've said it. To be fair, I actually don't remember stuttering when I was little. My first very distinct memory of stuttering was sometime in seventh grade, when I had trouble saying "nosotros" (we/us) in Spanish class. But I also remember knowing I was going to have trouble saying it, because we were going around the room, and I counted ahead to see what I was going to have to say. Which means by that point I was already stuttering. When did it start? That's a question for another day.

So why am I publicizing this fact now? First, I'm in the midst of a lifelong attempt to "cure" my stutter. Except this time, rather than hoping it gets better on its own, I'm actually being proactive about fixing it. In an irony of ironies, I love language, and speak six different languages to varying degrees of proficiency. Yet the main thing that prevents me from speaking them better is not my inability to learn languages, but rather my inability to voice what I want to say. Getting rid of my stutter would remove the primary obstacle I have in becoming fluent in all of these languages.

Second, I'm sick of the lack of progress in stuttering research. Not much has really changed in the last few centuries. At least people for the most part tend to no longer believe that stutterers are possessed by demons (although I think they still do in some parts of the world). But has there been much progress on identifying the actual causes (and treatments/cures) of stuttering? I'd argue no. With the exception of a study identifying potential genes associated with stuttering, no one really knows what's going on. For a condition that affects between 0.5% and 1% of the Earth's adult population (and up to 5% of children), it's sad that there's been so little progress.

So I've decided to treat this as an engineering problem, and figure out how to hack my brain. I used to be able to speak without any dysfluencies, so why can't I again? And arguably, I'm already an above-average communicator. A few weeks ago, I gave a lecture to 300 students in a foreign country. I coached my high school gymnastics team my sophomore year of college, have friends across the world that I speak to in multiple languages, am frequently sought out for advice/consultation from friends and professionals alike, and honestly, generally like talking and telling stories. Which is why becoming more fluent is that much more meaningful to me.

One last thing for now - I'd like to give some words of advice to non-stutterers. First, stutterers are not intellectually less-capable than non-stutterers. I remember with clarity and pain my 11th grade English teacher "helping" me with words when asked to read something aloud if I had more than a quarter second delay before beginning a word. As if I didn't know how to pronounce the word! I remember equally well the embarrassment just last week of saying "um" twice before being able to produce my name for the cashier at a coffee shop (stutterers almost invariably have trouble saying their own name). Stutterers are normal people who think just like the rest of the world. They just happen to have some bug in the connection between neural messages and actual speech. If you are conversing with a stutterer, do not offer advice (trust me, you don't know how it feels), do not complete sentences or fill in words for them, and obviously, do not make fun of the way they speak (stuttering is probably the only mental disorder that is still socially acceptable to laugh at - I can't even begin to describe how much this disgusts me). Stutterers already have inordinate amounts of guilt, fear, embarrassment, and anguish that they place on themselves, so the best thing you can do is relax and be patient with them.

And with that, let's embark on this adventure. I'll post my learnings, history, thoughts, and answer any questions that people have. Thank you for joining me on this quest - after all, without people to talk to, what's the point? =)

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Modern Technology Attention Deficit Tipping Point

I recently got back from a two and a half week trip abroad, and the comparative lack of connectivity was refreshing. I often feel that here in Silicon Valley, we're progressing ever more rapidly to a world in which no one looks up anymore, and relationships and friendships take place entirely in the unfulfilling desert of the virtual. Getting out every now and then is a good way to reset your perspective.

For instance, during the nine days I spent in Korea, I had a phone that was "merely" capable of sending text messages and making phone calls (to be fair, it was an iPhone 4, but the 3G was disabled). Knowing that you can't check your email even if you want to is glorious! I ended up checking my email once or twice a day at the hotel, and didn't miss it. The main thing I really missed was GPS. But believe it or not, it's possible to find things without it. And people tend to be helpful if you ask them for directions!

I then went to China, where G+ and Facebook are blocked. Facebook got so nervous about the sudden drop in attention I was affording it that it sent me an email informing me of all my unread notifications. Surprisingly, the world kept spinning without my attending to those notifications! Crazy but true.

Then I spent last weekend in Beijing with a group of friends who all had old-school tier-3 candy bar phones. You know what? They're way more fun to hang out with than the smartphone-wielding masses. They look up way more than their iPhoned compatriots. They don't pull out their phones to check Facebook or check-in on Foursquare in the middle of a conversation. And they seem to be generally happier people.

I wonder if we're reaching an inflection point in our technology-driven attention deficit disorder. Will we humans be able to figure out a healthy way to coexist with technology? Will it consume ever more of our attention until we live most of our lives in the hyperactive snapshot world we've created for ourselves? Or will we break out of our self-imposed chains and demand more real and less virtual? I don't know the answer, but it will certainly be interesting to see how this all plays out.