Is it just us, or is everyone else already bored with AI generated stuff?

The explosion of prompt-generated videos WITH OUR OWN FACES in fantastical scenarios is astonishing.

And also dull.

It’s eye-catching, but devoid of any substance. There’s zero emotional investment.

Video calls with 10-year-old Harriet often involve her head turning into a skull with rainbows pouring out of its ears, or a cute giraffe in a sombrero. The software tracks her facial expressions, and the cartoon head mimics her eyebrows and mouth movements with incredible accuracy. And it’s awful.

These technological advancements are exciting and interesting for a short burst, and then…. we’re bored.

Is AI generated art destined to live out its days in the Metaverse? Ha! Remember the Metaverse???

Col Fink and I are probably already behind on the hype cycle conversation. There’s plenty of talk about the AI financial bubble, and when it might pop.

In the meantime, keep being you. Do the work, write your newsletter, record your videos. The need for genuine humanity isn’t going anywhere. The fear of obsolescence in a world of AI hopefully is.

PS. Would AI generate face shadows on Col's head and terrible lighting in the opening frame of this video?? No, you need a real human videographer for that!!

Without vision correction, I truly cannot see how many finger’s you’re holding up. I can barely see how many fingers I’M holding up.

But I almost exclusively wear contact lenses, so even people who know me well are sometimes surprised to find out I'm short-sighted at all.

Glasses are an indicator of the problem AND the solution. Contact lenses quietly solve the problem without anybody knowing you even have one.

There's a big difference between visible and invisible help.

Following the wonderful reaction to our “I think I have ADHD” episode a couple of weeks ago, Col and I chat about the changing landscape around neurodiversity, and how bringing visibility

Shame stops many of us from sharing our differences and burdens. The more we see others share safely, without judgement, the easier it becomes.

If you can, be the glasses of your coping strategies, not the contact lenses.

My Airbnb roommate was a Hollywood movie star. I had no idea.

I was at the Toronto Greek Film Festival for Ange & The Boss, and the organiser said, “You’ve got a roommate tonight. You’ll like him.”

Five minutes later, he’s pointing at me going, “Wait… you’re the guy who made that Ange Postecoglou film?”

Turns out he knew half the people in it. He’d actually PLAYED with them in the 1980s.

His name was Costas Mandylor. When injury cut his football career short, he pursued acting. Quite successfully, it turned out!

You’ve probably seen him without realising. Picket Fences. The SAW movies. Cameos in shows like Sex & the City.

For the next two days, I got a quiet masterclass in confidence. Not arrogance, just ease. Costas was affable, generous, memorable, magnetic.

It got me thinking: was his charisma a reflection of his stardom… or the reason he became a star?

In this week’s Fink Tank, Col and I dig into conviction and success, and where it comes from.

Also, you should see his film The Aegean. He's the lead actor, he barely says a word in the entire film, and his performance is mesmerising.

Hands up all our favourite “I think I might have ADHD” people

This week’s Fink Tank kicks off with Col “diagnosing” both of us, before comparing ADHD to being left-handed. Something that only showed up in the stats once it became socially acceptable to admit it.

We dig into the blurry line between explanation and excuse.

When does understanding yourself help you grow, and when does it just become a way to justify bad behaviour? At what point does “this is how my brain works” turn into “if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best” (Ugh).

A slightly longer episode today, befitting the subject matter.

Ever meet someone’s family and think, ah, that explains everything?

Mum, Col, and his eldest son Deakin came to visit us in Wellington. Our collective Fink quirks, gathered in the McKay family home (portmanteau options include FcKay or McKink, pronounced with relish), were suddenly much more visible to me than usual.

We like to imagine we’re all unique, self-made individuals. But truthfully, most of us are just slightly modified versions of our parents. Flawed apples rolling a short distance from the tree.

Meeting the tree, as it were, can be enlightening.

Annoying traits become more forgivable when you see them in siblings and parents. At least that’s what I hoped as I watched Col unknowingly commit Finkish faux pas I’ve spent years trying to adjust in myself.

That doesn’t excuse any of us from doing the work. From knowing ourselves and taking what friend of the show Di Foster calls radical responsibility. I love that phrase.

But we’re all deeply flawed humans, requiring constant forgiveness. David Whyte’s poem on friendship might be the best articulation ever written of what enduring relationships truly demand.

At the very least, if you find someone a bit annoying but want to keep liking them, meet their family.

Ever noticed that the less you care about something, the easier it is?

Everyone wants to grow. Almost universally, we want to improve and upskill, we want to look back on our journey and see how far we’ve come.

And yet, we’ll reliably prevent ourselves from improving by locking ourselves away, playing small, and avoiding risks.

I have no particular interest in getting good at disc golf, but funnily enough the very fact that I don’t really care about the outcome means that yesterday, given a chance to play with Col and his son Deakin, I just gave it a crack. It went pretty well*.

Had it been something that feels more significant to my career and identity, I’m as guilty as the rest of us at protecting myself from feelings of inadequacy and shame.

It’s strange how, despite living with our brains our whole lives, we’re still terrible at managing them.

In this Fink Tank, Col and I talk about better ways of getting better at things; selfie videos, public speaking, anything that matters to your life and your work.

*My round ended one hole early when I threw Col’s favourite disc across a stiff Wellington breeze and it skewed 50 metres into impenetrable scrub. You've gotta spend money to make money.

Do I want to eat more Twisties?

If they’re within arms reach, apparently yes. But actually, no.

We’re on the way to pick up a planishing hammer (bonus points if you have any idea what a planishing hammer is. I didn’t), and Col has a huge open packet of Twisties in the centre console.

After a few mouthfuls I’ve had enough sickly orange grubs, yet I lack the self-control to stop shovelling them into my face. So I give the packet to Col to stash in his car door.

Why?

I have total agency no matter where the Twisties packet is. Yet I need to introduce a hurdle to change my behaviour. It’s stupid and irrational. And very human.

Moving the packet changes what economist Richard Thaler calls my “choice architecture”. Choice architecture plays a huge role in determining whether our behaviour aligns with our goals. Best intentions usually aren’t enough.

Whether it’s resisting Twisties, keeping an exercise routine, staying in contact with friends, or getting to bed on time.

Or posting videos.

I was utterly stuck at the start of 2020. I flogged myself trying to establish a video presence, but couldn’t post a thing. After weeks of floundering, Alicia McKay and Peter Cook flipped my approach.

They held me to account to ditch my perfectionism and post weekly phone videos for a month. I was up and running.

Sometimes small shifts lead to huge results.

In this weeks Fink Tank, Col and I talk about choice architecture experiments, and how to get the best out of ourselves.

Have you tried just… being better?

Col’s recent poll revealed what many of us already know. Most people admit they’re bad at marketing and sales. We avoid it.

Instead, we lean on referrals and word-of-mouth. We hoping the quality of our work speaks loudly enough to bring in the next client.

Col thinks many of us would be more successful if we focused less on blaming “bad marketing”, and more on becoming brilliant at our craft.

After all, being bad at marketing feels psychologically safer than facing the fear of being mediocre at what we actually do.

Go you good things!!