Flow

[mdlbear]

This will probably, at some point, expand into a "Care and Feeding of Your Geek" article; for now it's just some notes on flow and how it relates. the Wikipedia article defines flow as "the mental state of operation in which the person is fully immersed in what he or she is doing, characterized by a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and success in the process of the activity." It's often described as "losing oneself" in the activity.

There's more. Go read it. I'll wait.

Most geeky activities -- programming, gaming, art, music, dance, reading -- are enhanced by the kind of active concentration that characterizes flow. Flow, in turn, is often one of the beneficial side-effects of Asperger syndrome, a mild form of which is common among geeks.

There are three things you have to know about flow and your geek.

First, if your geek is concentrating on something, you aren't there. Neither is he. (I'm going to use "he" to refer to your geek because I'm male, and this is partly directed to my keeper wife; adjust as needed.) Your geek may seem to be present; he may even be able to carry on what appears to be a brief conversation. Don't be fooled. Almost all of his mind is lost in what he's doing. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember a thing you said afterwards.

Second, getting yanked out of a flow state hurts. If you break your geek's concentration, expect to be snapped at. It has nothing to do with you: he'd snap at a dog, his mother, or a phone call saying that he's won the lottery. The sensation, if you haven't felt it yourself, is a lot like being awakened from an exceedingly pleasant dream by a loud noise that can't be immediately identified. Your geek may not even remember what he says at that moment -- he'll be sorry about it, but he really didn't know what he was saying. You may have noticed him walking into lampposts while reading a book, too.

Third, however, is that flow is the reason why geeks often make surprisingly good lovers. Consider the implications of having 100% of his attention on you. If you ask him what he's thinking about, he might not be able to answer. If you ask him why he thought to scratch you just exactly there where you needed it, he probably won't be able to answer that one either. If you ask him to stop, ... never mind; you probably won't want to.

Comments

[mdlbear]

By "hurt" I mean something more like a moment of strong disorientation than anything long-lasting: a mosquito bite rather than a broken leg. If it's urgent, accept that you're likely to be grumped at, understand that it's a reflex rather than something they really mean, grit your teeth, and tap them on the shoulder. It's a lot like interrupting a kid at play (for the same reason) -- they may say "I hate you" or "you don't love me", but you know that you can't take it seriously and they'll still want you to tuck them in at night. The correct response to "!@#$%^, can't you see I'm busy?!" is usually something like "Yes, dear -- You told me to remind you..."

Handing someone a note, or putting it somewhere on the edge of their field of view, may work better than anything verbal: they'll be able to refer to it when they finally notice. My calendar program does this: it beeps and pops up a reminder window in the corner of the screen farthest from where I'm usually typing.

I usually sit where I can hear bits of conversation from the living room; if I hear my name I'll usually manage to pull out of what I was doing, come out, and ask what's going on that I need to know about. I'm gradually training people to understand that if I don't come out and ask, I probably didn't really receive the message.

It's not a matter of "getting somebody hurt" as of "well, you knew that potato was hot when you got it out of the oven." I'm not sure what the emotional equivalent of a potholder is, though.