I had an 8:30 meeting switch to 7:30, which offered the first stress test of the early rising thing. Usually I’d have to rearrange parts of my morning for a commute window, but it all fit under the new schedule with relative ease.
Ignore the Internet (except me) and fix the Kobo “previously deauthorized” error with DRM protected ebooks. Also, get a password manager and complain about DRM loudly whenever you can.
I’m writing this post in a likely futile attempt to save you a few minutes or hours if you have run into the following message on your Kobo e-reader while trying to read an ebook protected by Adobe’s Digital Editions DRM:
This book is protected by DRM. Because you previously deauthorized your eReader, you need to re-import the book using Adobe Digital Editions.
You may be wondering why you’re getting that message, and all I can say to that is this parable:
“Suppose a man is struck by a poisoned arrow and the doctor wishes to take out the arrow immediately. Suppose the man does not want the arrow removed until he knows who shot it, his age, his parents, and why he shot it. What would happen? If he were to wait until all these questions have been answered, the man might die first.”
In other words, if you’re here, it happened to you and you might as well accept that if you ever want to read an ebook with Adobe DRM on your Kobo ever again.
If you want to go beyond the technical “why” into the practical “why,” the answer is “DRM is user hostile and built on a paranoid world-view that pretty much guarantees the many edge cases the developers are trying to solve for to ensure that nothing is ever unlawfully copied again will generate brittle, random behavior that breaks when any system they’re developing for changes at all.”
That said, I’m writing this because I want you to be able to get books from your public library in a way that doesn’t endanger your public library’s ability to continue to deliver ebooks to people, and that allows your library to continue to show that it is serving the public. The biggest favor we could do to the people demanding DRM is to get frustrated and turn away from a public good like the library in favor of “just works” solutions that further atomize our communities and even our families, weaken our resolve to support public goods, and reduce access to books for people with less privilege than e-reader owners.
There is a lot of advice on assorted user forums about how to deal with this problem. A lot of it is quite old in Internet time, leaving a lot of room for the underlying realities of the broken system to change. Most of it is a variant on “deauthorize everything, reauthorize everything, and try to side-load a book you have never read before. Everything will start working again.”
Some of that advice includes the meta-advice, “do not bother trying to factory reset your Kobo. That won’t work.”
Speaking as someone who lost about an hour to trying all the special spells and incantations of desperate support forum denizens, I am here to tell that the one thing that did absolutely and without fail work was doing a factory reset of my Kobo.
I want to make this easier for you to decide:
- Let’s assume it takes about five minutes to read through a thread on a forum to get to the advice people say worked. (+5 minutes)
- Let’s assume it takes about three minutes to carefully apply all the advice. (+3 minutes)
- Let’s assume it takes about two minutes to find an ebook you have never read before, check it out, download it, and load it into your Kobo. (+2 minutes)
That’s 12 minutes per solution, and I tried four of them. That’s 48 minutes. And even if the first one works, it’s still 12 minutes.
- Let’s assume it takes about five minutes to factory reset your Kobo, enter your credentials for Wi-Fi, Kobo store, Dropbox, library, and Pocket.
That’s 5 minutes total. Even if it doesn’t happen to work, it’s a relatively efficient thing to try, and you can actually try it with only three credentials: Kobo store, library, and Wi-Fi. Save signing in to Dropbox and Pocket for later, once you know it worked.
Doing a factory reset sounds like a pain, but it’s actually pretty fast. A Kobo is not like a laptop or iPad, which may have more elaborate onboarding processes. It’s a very simple device in 2020 technology terms. Even if you have all the bells and whistles turned on, you have a max of five passwords to enter.
If the password business sounds like a pain to you, I’m going to make two suggestions: One for low-tech people and one for high-tech people:
- Low-tech people: Buy a password notebook and keep it somewhere safe. Put your passwords in there. Ignore the advice to never write down your passwords. That was advice for when people had a few systems to deal with and it assumes a level of determination to steal your secrets that most of us won’t experience. If you’re at risk of experiencing it, you’ll know it. My in-laws have a password notebook, and it is very helpful for them. They treat it with as much care as their credit cards and prescription medications.
- High-tech people: Get a password manager like 1Password and use it. If you’re feeling fancy, label everything your Kobo needs to work again with a “kobo” tag to make it easy to find after a hard reset.
These are good things to do beyond making a Kobo work again today. Any Internet-enabled device of any complexity will eventually need to be reset to fix a problem, or replaced with a newer model, or simply forget its settings. I think people younger than me have been trained to understand this. People closer to my age may still have moments where they’re unpleasantly surprised that they actually need to remember five or ten passwords to return to the normal Internet lives they still vaguely consider “new.”
Finally, I’d like to note that if you’re here you may be quite frustrated with your Kobo, libraries, and Adobe. These groups are all living inside a DRM system created by intellectual property owners. Adobe profits from this system, the others just have to live in it. It’s a futile system that only stops people with zero technical wherewithal from copying books and sharing them freely. It does no good against people who know how to use a search engine or download simple and easily found software.
At the peak of my frustration with my Kobo’s inability to read library books I lawfully checked out, I just resorted to checking out the Kindle version and stripping the DRM off of it. Once I fixed the problem, I deleted the stripped version and got the “legal” version. It took about the same amount of effort to do either.
Let’s look at the time involved for doing it legally:
- Realize that my Kobo can’t provide an automatic download of a book I checked out. (+5 minutes – the book doesn’t show up after syncing)
- Go from where I read to my computer, go back to the library site and download the Adobe DRM version. (+3 minutes)
- Plug in my Kobo, wait for it to go into USB drive mode (+1 minute)
- Copy the ebook into Adobe’s software (.25 minutes)
- Copy the ebook from Adobe’s software to my Kobo (.25 minutes)
- Unmount my Kobo (.25 minutes)
- Open the book and pause, because there’s some sort of DRM handshake that seems to make the book open more slowly the first time. (.5 minutes)
That’s about 10.25 minutes.
And here is is “illegally”:
- Realize that my Kobo can’t provide an automatic download of a book I checked out. (+5 minutes – the book doesn’t show up after syncing)
- Go from where I read to my computer, go back to the library site and download the Kindle version. (+3 minutes)
- Open the Kindle version in the Chrome Cloud Reader app. (+.25 minutes)
- Run the software that strips the DRM from the Chrome copy and drops the book in Dropbox. (+1 minute)
- Go back to where I do my reading, open the book from Dropbox. (+1 minute)
That’s about 10.25 minutes.
In other words, if you need to be frustrated, you should be frustrated over a stupid system that wastes your time and doesn’t really work if you know how to use a search engine and a computer. You should be even more frustrated that the people demanding it work this way aren’t really interested in fixing it because it’s in their interests for you to say “fuck it, I’ll never get this user-hostile library system to work, I’ll just buy the book outright from some monopolist somewhere.”
On borrowing instead of buying
Just a side note:
I’ve been pleased with how quickly my ebook holds come available. The library quotes pretty long times—weeks and weeks sometimes—but many holds I’ve placed are available two or three days after I place them, likely because the library is just counting the checkout period, which defaults to 21 days.
When I decided to experiment with placing holds and waiting to see how my reading stack worked out, I thought I’d be waiting a while to have something to read and I made sure to load a few favorite re-reads into the Kobo. I ended up with four new books from my holds in under three days.
When you first go looking for ebooks to read from the library, the default search can be discouraging. All the new stuff is probably checked out and has long apparent wait times. Popular classics will be in the same boat. You can toggle for availability in the results if you just need something to read right now. It’s weird, if you’ve been buying through an e-reader for a while, to delay gratification. Give it a week and it’ll seem fine.
Well, something intrinsic to Google’s design ran afoul of my ad blocker, rendering all the result pages a weird endless scroll of white with the results ducking on and off screen at random. Made it a super easy decision to just switch everything to DuckDuckGo.
- Turned an abysmal under-the-stairs crap aggregator into a well lit and organized pantry.
- Bought new mixing bowls in a useful range of sizes.
- Bought a set of dry goods containers to organize the pantry.
- Replaced a bunch of plastic food storage containers with Pyrex ones.
- Added a set of over-the-door shelves to store tea, cocoa, etc.
- Landed on a recipe app (Paprika) and started feeding it my old recipe bookmarks.
- Fixed the lighting situation in my office.
- Got an air purifier, which has done a ton to handle my winter “closed in the house with pets” sneezing spells.
- Bought a nice pan for pancakes and bigger cooking projects.
- Added a bench with shoe shelves and an under-the-seat storage space. I know where all my winter hats, scarves, and mufflers are now.
- Made a camera storage space in the living room, with a safe holder for my favorite walking around lenses and easy access to a USB-C charger so I can “dock” the camera at night and always have a fresh battery in the morning.
- Bought decent but inexpensive wireless chargers and put them in strategic places in the living room, office, and bedroom.
- Bought a leather sling magazine rack for parking laptops and tablets in the living room instead of leaving them on ottomans and chairs.
- Added a Hue and accompanying routine to make the kitchen sink light come on if someone goes downstairs at night.
- Added a broom and mop holder just inside the inside garage door.
- Working harder to use the library for reading material instead of buying it from Amazon.
It is a little strange to me that this has all happened in January. This is traditionally my month to sink into a sort of muzzy and irritable low power mode. I’ve always assumed it’s just SAD catching up to me. When I inventory changes to my recent routine or behavior, I come up with:
- Much less sugar intake. Desserts on weekends and honey in my tea, but otherwise pretty abstemious.
- Switching from coffee/sugar to tea/honey. I have read that tea has a slower caffeine ramp than coffee, so it’s also less spiky and crashy.
- Switching to a consistent 5:30 waking time, which has done a lot to smooth out mornings. Less of a rush out the door to catch the last possible train downtown, and more easing into the day with time for things that make that better, like being able to read the morning news over tea.
I believe those things help a lot. I feel less emotional volatility, even when I have neglected my sleep a little while waiting for the hard 5:30 wake up to drive better bedtime behavior. I feel less rushed and don’t lose time during the day to mid-morning commutes as I try to build my day around a handful of Belfast meetings. My energy level in the morning feels more consistent and steady.
Underneath all this, and why I am typing right now, is also my ADHD.
It has been on my mind lately because it has been on the minds of others, as well. Erynn Brook tweets about it a lot, and a friend recently pointed me to her. A colleague told me about their struggles with it. Another friend has been getting treatment.
I talked to my dad a few years ago about my particular situation:
“We got this idea in grade school that something was up: Your standardized test scores and all the IQ tests said you were smart, but school was hard for you.”
Mom added on, “your teacher said you were 100 pages behind in math, but I’d stood over you and made you do a lot of it. I looked in your book bag I found almost all of it stuffed in a folder, most of it done, just not turned in. I knew something was wrong.”
Hindsight is 20/20. They did not see all this from a cool remove when I was growing up: All they knew was that I was “plenty smart”—well into gifted and talented territory, in the 99th percentile in vocabulary and reading, reading Aldous Huxley in fourth grade—but that I “wasn’t trying,” or “didn’t care,” or was “making a choice.”
“You’re not forgetting … you just don’t want to remember.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You always say you’re sorry. Sorry means you’ll never do it again, so don’t say you’re sorry until it won’t happen again.”
Their frustration inflected into punishment for not doing homework or chores, with groundings or having all my books taken away, or simply having to sit through another harangue about my laziness. When we began to host foster children with intellectual disabilities , the harangues took another turn: Was I not ashamed for being so gifted and doing nothing with it while these poor children would have given anything to have my gifts? When a school field trip my senior year took us to a public mental hospital, the teacher selected me and a few of the more grown-up kids to go through “the severe ward,” where there were children with profound intellectual disabilities. I got a stomach ache and cried because the guilt was unbearable.
And along the way I had learned to lie to protect myself from the harangues and punishment. If I forgot a chore or fucked up something at school, I Iied to cover my tracks. So I had “liar” added to “lazy,” and hot saucing got added to the repertoire of punishment, maybe because it seemed sort of biblically poetic, like the sort of thing Leviticus or Proverbs might suggest as a remedy for your broken, disappointing child.
So, they “knew something was wrong” despite me being “plenty smart,” but that was all there was to that. I had to go to a child counselor for being “willful” at one point … a stigmatizing experience I was told to explain variously as “a medical appointment” or “family business” if challenged by the attendance office, but never as “counseling” or “therapy.” There was not, however, any treatment forthcoming for ADHD until I sought it myself after four frustrating, precarious years in college and some early adult decisions that cost me opportunities, friendships, and someone who wanted to be my mentor but couldn’t countenance how erratic I was. I had no words for that mentor, because I had no words for what was wrong with me. I just knew I was a lazy, underachieving liar and a tragically broken person who’d had an IQ of 150 bestowed upon me by good genes and plenty of books in the house, but squandered it through defects of character.
I did finally get help in my 20s, but only for the brain chemistry. I viewed the medicine I was taking as a sort of chemical restraint, or a crutch that would keep me from toppling into some terminal failure mode now that I was out of structured environments. I found myself standing outside myself, watching this preternaturally calm person navigate social interactions with the flattened affect of a foreign language tutorial rendered as a David Mamet play: Pleasant, accommodating, attentive, but ultimately detached; HAL 9000 wrapped in human skin.
I went off the medication as I entered a new relationship, and as I slipped back into hazy, undirected, forgetful, slow-motion impulsivity, I lost it. The collected, well-groomed, on-top-of-it, focused person was replaced by … me, and the transformation could not be unseen by my soon to be ex-partner.
I learned from my brother, years later, that all the setbacks and difficulties early adulthood involved were read by my parents, 500 miles away, as my character failings taking me where they surely must: Some sort of addiction. As someone who’d stopped even drinking alcohol and had gone vegan, I had no context for why they said they simply couldn’t help me. Apparently it was more out of sadness than anger, because they believed the professional development courses I was talking about to actually be a transparent lie to get drug money, since we all knew my repeated efforts at self-improvement were always stymied by my laziness and sloth. The eventual chat with my brother, a decade later, was clarifying.
People familiar with my biography may now understand why the army felt like the next logical stop on the line.
While ADHD stays with you, other things happen as you age. Some things get easier, or you just learn a few things that help and cling to them. I picked up a few habits of thought that largely controlled the worst of my impulsivity, for instance. I developed a sort of “check and double-check” for things that could be a problem for someone with attentional problems, like crossing a busy intersection, using power tools, or riding a motorcycle. Those things can be exhausting, and I can still become very irritable if I’m with someone who is demanding my attention while I’m trying to do those things safely, but over the years as I matured and developed, I got to a place where I could hold a job or deliver on a contract and conceive of having a child of my own.
I met other ADHD people over the years, and because I had come to terms with my own issue by adopting a very locked down, cautious approach to the world, I found myself hating to be around them. I’d never gotten help for the stigma I was raised with, had a gnawing sense of the precarity of my own cobbled together set of protective measures, and viewed a lot of ADHD-related behavior as morally defective. That made my own backslides and lapses even harder; reminders that I was still fundamentally broken. Seeing it in others was often unbearable. We see in others what we hate in ourselves. I don’t know when I was exposed to that idea, but it did stick and I try to remember it when I feel a flash of disproportionate impatience or irritation with someone who seems to be dealing with the same attentional issues I do.
The past 15 months have been incredibly challenging. Alison had a series of injuries and some misdiagnosed, misdirected physical therapy that left her unable to work outside the home, and sometimes unable to do much at home. Ben’s an active kid we want to support, so there was plenty of transportation stuff to do. I went through a patch at work in the first half of that period where I was worried for my job and feeling trapped, but I was the sole provider for the first time in 15 years. There has been little to anchor on or build a routine around.
Over this time, we slipped into some habits around food and home that weren’t great. It was easier to just order in or eat apart. There wasn’t a lot of energy to go around to keep house. Ben finally noticed it and pushed back, and it became clear to me that between injuries and my job anxiety, he was looking for tokens of normal we weren’t providing. We pulled together more of a domestic routine, but we have largely lived with the kitchen and household inventory of someone who has recently thought they might explore housekeeping beyond frozen pot pies and PopTarts : A loose collection of mismatched stuff to make a simple meal, crammed into disorganized cabinets and competing with a second collection of dubiously useful kitchen electrics that seemed like they would somehow make all this householding we were to be up to more simple and easy.
That long list at the top is a small series of rebellions against an unpleasant status quo that has begun to lift both because Alison’s recovery has entered a phase were we can begin to imagine her daily pain easing, and because I have backed into a few habits—better diet, regular sleep, an anchoring routine, and probably self-medication with English breakfast tea—that have allowed me to slip a fingernail under a bit of the knot and worry at it.
Looking back over the structure of this, I thought, “I don’t know if this is useful, starting with a list of minor domestic achievements that cover the first screen. You have buried the lede.”
Looking back over the content, I thought, “this is very confessional, and you are coming out from behind some things about your upbringing and life that you’ve been happy to obscure with irony and misdirection.”
Looking back over some of the biographical moments, I thought, “some people may finally understand, and other people may be hurt.”
But someone recently told me they appreciated that I spoke openly about having ADHD at all. That it lessened their own sense of stigma, and that it was important for people to see a leader owning this thing about themselves. I buy that.
So we’ll leave this as is, like a time capsule.
I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for the Lego kit mentality driving Drafts. When the black box share sheet stuff going on in iOS just doesn’t quite fit or work, Drafts often offers a way forward.
Watching a show set in 2019 where they’re showing contemporaneous news footage full-screen, as if the viewer’s tv is showing the footage directly, and they added scan lines, like you’d see on a CRT, to denote “watching on a tv.” #verisimilitude
I felt irritated that MarsEdit wouldn’t hand Markdown editing off to anything besides BBEdit & TextWrangler. Ended up sort of glad to go through fixing up my BBEdit config on this machine. It’s such a nice tool if you live in a range of purposes starting at “simple Markdown editor” and ending somewhere around either “single-file scripting project” or “a website,” depending on the website. There are plenty of configuration options for that range of functionality, wrapped in a reasonably discoverable configuration interface.
I don’t think I’ve ever used anything better for the “utility text mangling” use case, either. It is so easy to import a lump of textual data and massage it, with nice automation affordances if it’s a task you have to perform a lot. During my web editing days, I had a small toolkit of BBEdit scripts and text factories for each of the writers I worked with that made it super easy to flatten out their HTML idiosyncrasies. There are so many ways people think you should be able to make a heading in HTML, and automation allows you to forget they exist once you’ve cataloged them all.
I’d appreciate an iOS port of BBEdit that remembered my editing preferences across versions and ensured version control support was in the iOS version, somehow. A lot BBEdit’s greatness on the Mac is down to its amenability to extending it with scripts. I guess that’s where the versions would diverge: I’d want to see pretty tight Workflow integration on the iOS side.
Handy little “post-to-Micro.blog-from-Alfred” workflow. github.com/jbwhaley/…
One bummer about the otherwise smooth Kobo/Overdrive integration: You can’t read any ebooks you check out from the library if they aren’t also sold in the Kobo store. Download just doesn’t happen. No message or warning. And none of the Revelation Space books.
I’ve had this iPhone 11 Pro Max for an evening and early morning, and it’s good! At least, it has subverted a few expectations and the one disappointment I can name is me wanting something it’s unfair to expect.
It doesn’t feel huge. I had a hard time one-handing my iPhone X, anyhow, so this is just me saying “now my thumb can quit hyperextending coz this is a two-hander.” It doesn’t make my pocket feel stuffed. Was the big version of the 6 thicker or something?
The camera’s night mode is initially impressive. Looking forward to playing with it. Given a steady grip and a static scene, it turns out images you can work with. I do want to see how they look on a big screen.
The ultra wide lens is interesting and opens up a lot of possibilities. Having that sort of oddball focal length could help a lot of people approach their phone camera like a legitimate creative tool, and that’s cool.
The big screen + an SD reader + Lightroom mobile = a decent mobile image processing lab.
Not so good
- That ultra-wide is an f2.2 lens. On such a small sensor it gets noisy fast and you don’t get night mode or RAW shooting with it. For now it’s best as a daytime lens. Hard to be too annoyed. It can only get better as Apple iterates.
I ordered a Moment lens case. This thing will probably destroy my appetite for a compact point and shoot. The battery + a case that can take Peak Design anchors = a great tourist camera when I’m not feeling my big camera.
The ultra wide lens is just going to be a playground.
We’ve been in this house for ten years, and the under-the-stairs closet in the kitchen has been an ongoing nightmare dumping ground that has never been right. We had free-standing shelves in there, but the irregular sloping ceiling meant that a lot of the space far into the closet was hard to use, and you ended up on hands and knees trying to find things.
So I fixed it today. It took well under two hours to put in the brackets and shelves and mount a motion-sensitive light, including time to move things in and out. I moved the free-standing shelves as far back into the sloping space as I could to hold the heavy cooking appliances.
Net, we get back an entire cabinet that had been stuffed with canned goods. Now it’s possible to put daily staples at eye level in the main kitchen, while less often used stuff is out of the way but easily found. We can take the Instant Pot off the counter when we’re not using it and the large pans and skillets are easier to store.
As you step into the space, the light comes on and makes everything easy to find, and it’s possible to stand fully inside and see everything you need to see.
If I had to do it over again, I can think of a few things I could have done differently. There are some fit and finish gaps. But it was one of those projects where I suddenly felt galvanized: I took a few measurements, made a few guesses about what would fit and what wouldn’t, and kinda improvised at Home Depot. Some day I may decide to take out the smaller shelves and do a little better, but today I’m just happy to have solved a really annoying situation.
Ben came downstairs, quietly sat on the floor of the new pantry for a few minutes looking around, and finally said, “I feel like this is the right thing. This is what this space has always wanted to be, and now it is.”
Already written about it, but as an update, I love the Libby/Overdrive-to-Kobo thing sooo much. Read about a book, check on Libby, check it out/place a hold, sync, reading. I’ve got a queue of holds building, like an awesome reading kanban. 📚
Yep. And when you read what they put into the production, it becomes even more icky. Just another huge concentration of wealth with the means to spend more on marketing to cover the deficits of the product.
I only know one of the editors personally, so I may be dead wrong, but I would bet that few of them are industrial workers, few live in small or mid-sized towns in the Midwest or South, few went to junior colleges, few hang around with people who voted for Donald Trump, or even Republicans, few go to emergency rooms for their health care, few have had low-wage jobs where they have competed with recent immigrants, few worry that their own jobs will be exported to Mexico or China. Do I need to go on?
And the endorsement that resulted was framed in a way that suggests how dangerously out of touch with reality they are.
One vision believes we can return to a more sensible America. The other calls for radical overhaul. But in this moment when democracy is being sorely tested, both radical and realist models warrant serious consideration.— Kathleen Kingsbury (@katiekings) January 20, 2020
Let’s set aside the juxtaposition of “a more sensible America” and “radical overhaul.” That’s just someone’s ideology showing. The part that gets people hurt and killed is the next sentence.
”… both radical and realist models warrant serious consideration.”
Three years of a vicious kind of realism from radicals who have set out to obliterate norms and make the country a meaner, crueler place, and the reasonable center still holds on to a broken taxonomy where “radical” and “realistic” are … different from each other? It’s like saying “both the color blue and cars warrant serious consideration.” As surely as there are blue cars, there are realistic radicals.
The moderates lost the last election not because there was, like, a glitch in the matrix—a disorder of reality—but because they had a poorer mastery of what is real. Me, too. I don’t know how many times I reloaded the NYT’s electoral forecast widget on election night. “Damn thing must be broken, how the hell does that guy have a 90 percent chance of winning? It’ll smooth out when the west coast comes in.”
We can make excuses: The electoral college is unfair, James Comey subverted the election, Russian trolls. None of it matters, because a lot of us—and a whole presidential campaign—believed right up until all those influences large and small prevailed that there was no way the election could possibly go the way it did. A certain kind of radical—the kind most people reading this will not identify with—had a more realistic view of what the country could tolerate.
And a very grim realism continues to prevail: The leader of the Senate can steal a Supreme Court seat. So, who’s the realist? The guy who stole the seat? Or the people saying you can’t steal Supreme Court seats because of customs and norms? One of them handed that seat over to his party, the others just have to live with the consequences for the next several decades. One of them has power—control of our living reality earned by understanding it—and the others don’t. Just using the phrase “stealing” reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of what is real, because no crime was committed, no laws broken.
Not a historian, but I imagine every time a society or system has undergone radical, shocking change, there have surely been people who were sitting around thinking that the radicals clamoring for change had no chance because they simply weren’t being realistic. I’m sure the radicals who ultimately upended those societies were glad they didn’t stop to listen to the “realists” as they set about defining the new reality, grateful they understood the truths of the old one well enough to destroy it.
You don’t have to be of any particular ideological persuasion—or a radical of any particular bent—to understand how damaged the NYT’s frame is. If you’re a moderate, all I can say is that your paper of record is failing you. If you’re a radical, you should be delighted: The reasonable center you’re going to need to step over at some point doesn’t understand how reality works.