Prompt Proposal

#285

I was voice journaling with Claude yesterday, talking through a technical question for a CrossFit workout, and I realized that when I started being more specific with my ask, the responses turned more helpful. I clearly stated what I wanted to accomplish, what I'd already tried, what felt stuck, and this made an increasingly frustrating Q&A session into more of a helpful brainstorming discussion with deeper insights.

Gathering info on how friends and family use GenAI, I learned that some approach it like a vending machine. Slot in a question, get out an answer. I faced this in my early adoption days too.

Me: "How do I get better at pull-ups as a beginner?"

AI: "Practice consistently. Strengthen your back and shoulders. Use resistance bands. Increase volume over time."

Me: "Okay but like, how many times a week should I actually train them?"

AI: "Three to four times per week is standard for most beginners."

Me: "Should I do them on consecutive days or spread them out?"

AI: "Spreading them out allows for better recovery."

Me: "What about my diet? Does that matter?"

AI: "Yes, protein intake supports muscle recovery."

Me: "How much protein though?"

AI: "About 0.7 to 1 gram per pound of body weight daily."

Similarly, when I ask questions around time and life management, I very quickly get frustrated because of not getting exactly what I want. The conversations escalate as:

Me: "OMG can you give actual helpful advice on how to not burn out?"

AI:

• "Prioritize self-care
• Take regular breaks
• Set boundaries with work
• Practice mindfulness"

Notice the pattern? Generic prompts get generic, vague responses. Frustrated prompts get bullet points that don't help. Curt prompts get curt answers.

You get back what you give. 

These rookie exchanges reminded me of an Akbar-Birbal story from Indian folklore, specifically about why Birbal remained the emperor's favorite. 

The story goes:

A jealous minister approached Akbar: "Why do you always choose Birbal for important tasks? Give me a chance to prove myself." Akbar agreed. He sends him to investigate a commotion near the kingdom.

The minister returns: "There's a carnival happening outside."

Akbar: "How long is he gonna be here?"

Minister: (Runs back) "One week."

Akbar: "What's causing all the noise?"

Minister: (Runs back) "A traveling is performer with drums."

Akbar: "Is anyone doing anything about it?"

Minister: (Runs back) "No one's complained yet."

And so on. Multiple trips. Multiple direct answers to each separate question. No anticipation or further thought whatsoever - what does the king actually want to know and why? How to make the exchange more efficient? 

Birbal shows up later. Akbar asks the same of him.

Birbal: "A traveling performer arrived this week. He'll be here seven days before moving to the next town. He's playing drums at the carnival, which is loud. I checked, no one's complained yet. But I also learned he's performing to raise money to support his family (his wife and son), so he might be open to adjusting his schedule if the noise becomes a real issue."

One answer. Everything Akbar asked for, plus context Akbar didn't even know to want. The other minister immediately realized why Birbal was the favorite.

I applied similar logic to prompt better and leverage AI for learning:

CrossFit workout:

Me: "I've been doing CrossFit for three months. I can do five strict pull-ups in a row, but my form falls apart after that. My shoulders get fatigued before my grip does. I've been training pull-ups three times a week. What I'm trying to figure out is whether I should focus on shoulder strength work first, or keep practicing pull-ups and adjust my training volume."

AI: "Your shoulder fatigue before grip fatigue tells me your shoulder stabilizers are the limiting factor, not your pulling strength. Try this: add two dedicated shoulder stability sessions weekly, focus on scapular work and horizontal pulling. Keep your pull-up practice to twice a week for now, but prioritize quality over volume. Once your shoulders stabilize better, you'll see form hold longer."

Nutrition course:

Me: "I'm studying nutrition. The textbook explains that carbs convert to glucose, which powers muscles. But I'm a visual learner and I'm confused about the timing part. Like, when exactly does glucose get used versus stored as glycogen? Does it matter if I eat carbs before or after my workout, and why? Can you explain it simply?"

AI: "Timing matters because of insulin sensitivity. Post-workout, your muscles are primed to absorb glucose directly into muscle cells as glycogen, not store it as fat. Pre-workout carbs give you energy for the actual effort. If you eat carbs at random times with no training nearby, they're more likely to be stored. Think of it like this: post-workout is like an open door to your muscle cells. Pre-workout is fuel in the tank before you drive."

If the nutrition prompt was in the same chat session as the CrossFit one, Claude would even tie those threads: "So when you do pull-ups and eat carbs post-workout, your muscles absorb that glucose directly as glycogen to repair and rebuild the shoulder stabilizers you just worked. You're not just eating rice, you're refueling exactly what you broke down."

A note for people new to AI tools (this works with Claude, ChatGPT, Gemini, or Perplexity): 

The practice matters more than the tool.

When you show up with thought already happening and share specific instructions on what outcomes you're looking for, the AI can actually think with you. When you hand it vagueness, it hands you back a generic, non-useful blob.

Yes it takes longer to create those prompts. But in reality, those save time (and tokens!) You could even try using voice over typing to get the job done faster.

Be like Birbal.

Learning Styles

#284

I've watched people learn my whole life. Some light up when someone's explaining something out loud. Others zone out and need to read it themselves (that's me!). Some need diagrams and visuals (also me). Some need to hear the story. There's no one way, though unfortunately most classrooms teach like there is.  Conforming to a single format and expectation. No wonder so many people think they're bad at learning. They're just not learning the way their brains actually work.

For me, I took advantage of that as an adult once I not only became more aware but also as resources like GenAI made learning, its modes, and accesses virtually limitless.

I always thought I was a visual learner because I respond to images and written words. I need specific examples to understand the underlying concepts at times, but then I'd click on an educational video, say, ten to fifteen minutes on how manual vs. automatic automobile gear transmissions work, and I'd lose focus after just two or three minutes. Listening to someone talk, even when they're drawing on a whiteboard tends to exhaust me. So I'd think, "Well, I'll just read about it instead," and somehow I don't tend to zone out. The words on the page have a vastly different effect on me. And I know the situation is the exact opposite for a lot of folks out there.

A part of it ties to cognitive load: basically, how much information your brain can process at once. Video lectures layer sound, visuals, pace, and duration all at once. Reading lets you control the speed. One can pause, reread any number of times, skip ahead and come back more easily, and differ the pace on different sections of a page. For some brains, that's the difference between learning and tuning out.

When I studied for my PMP (Project Management Professional) exam, I tested this intentionally. I grabbed the PMP Exam Prep for Dummies book from the library and paired it with video lectures strategically - not as my primary source, but to fill gaps. Reading was my workhorse. I'd absorb the material in half the time. It was slightly different in this particular case because preparing for an exam is different from actually learning the subject. I needed to understand what the exam tested more than memorizing answers or learning the concept as such due to hands-on experience at work, and the combination of books and  videos helped me strike that balance.

The meta part- I also started noticing how I learn about things I'm genuinely curious about - hobbies, interests, random topics. Same pattern. Reading first, videos when I'm stuck.

Learning styles are many: visual learners absorb through images and written words, auditory learners thrive on listening and discussion, reading/writing learners (like me) need text to process, and kinesthetic learners need hands-on experience.

If you notice your learning style skews toward reading, or video, or listening, or hands-on, stop forcing the other way and honor the working of your brain. That's self-care, too- giving yourself permission to learn the way you learn best. Your future self will thank you for the time you save.

Artificial constraints

#283

I borrowed twenty-something books from the library three months ago. Some I finished. Most I didn't. And for weeks, I carried around this low-level guilt about the ones still sitting on my nightstand: half-read, abandoned, judging me quietly.

When I voiced this shame out loud one day, my partner asked me: "Why do you have all these artificial constraints!?"

I'd been complaining about always showering before breakfast. That's the rule I'd set for myself, apparently. Why? Because that's how I was raised and I'm rather obedient, so I didn't question it. But then one day I didn't have time. So I ate breakfast first. Waited an hour. Then took a shower.

The world didn't end.

That day, I went and returned those unfinished books to the library. I became aware of the fact that I was forcing myself to finish books I no longer wanted to read urgently or that other activities took priority during that phase of my life. It helped me let go of my own made-up rules that no longer served me.

When obligation becomes the point

The borrowed books weren't the problem. The pressure I'd put on myself to finish them was.

I had borrowed the books with real excitement. New frameworks, new stories, new ideas - I'd wanted them all. But then life got dense. Some books didn't land the way I expected. Others I started and realized I'd outgrown them. A few were just... not it.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I should finish them. Because finishing things is what you're supposed to do. One of the ways I'd measured success in life. But also: psychology.

There's a concept known as the "sunk-cost fallacy". It's the idea that because you've already invested time, money, or effort (i.e. sunk cost) into something, you should keep investing more to justify what you've already spent. It's a cognitive bias, a trick our brains play on us. We think that the effort we've already wasted somehow obligates us to waste more.

But in reality: that obligation is completely made up.

Turning completion worship into intentionality

My partner noticed a pattern quickly enough when I used to yes to things I didn't have to say yes to, and feel trapped. I created rules and forgot they were optional. I pressured myself to finish because stopping felt like failure and I couldn't tolerate leaving things unfinished.

Sunk costs don't obligate you. Returning the books didn't erase what I'd already read. Breaking the shower rule didn't undo my morning. The sunk costs were sunk either way. Finishing them wouldn't un-sink them.

What finishing them would do is tie me to decisions I no longer believed in.

I gradually learnt that meaning comes from who you are now, not from finishing what made sense five years ago. You don't have to be who you were when you started, because you've grown. You've evolved.

What artificial constraint are you carrying today? What would happen if you broke it?