I remember infuriating my mother almost every day after school when she'd ask "How was it?" and I would just shrug and say, "I don't know."
She thought I was being evasive or something, but I was being completely honest. I genuinely didn't have an answer because my internal state was, as you describe perfectly, muted. Most of the time, I just felt... like a neutral, warm grey. Well - still do. There was no data to report.
> I don't remember hardly anything about my own past outside of factual information, and that tends to fade rather extremely with time. Even times when I was quite literally sobbing I don't remember the emotional impact of, just the fact that it happened, sometimes not even the cause.
I think remembering the fact of sobbing but not the feeling is the perfect distinction between semantic memory ("a thing that happened") and autobiographical memory ("an experience I had"). The factual data point was recorded, but the emotional qualia wasn't encoded for retrieval.
> On the other hand, I have extremely good factual memory about random shit and can usually build up a solid approximation for how something works from first principles on demand for an extremely broad array of things. Trade-offs, I guess.
I wouldn't even necessarily call it a trade-off so much as a logical consequence. If the brain's system for storing rich, first-person experiential data is impaired, it makes sense that it would rely on and strengthen its system for storing third-person factual data. The "what" gets stored efficiently because the "how it felt to be me when it happened" isn't taking up much space on the hard drive.
> It's what I imagine being an AI would feel like from the perspective of the AI.
Sounds about right to me. I feel the same. I have access to the facts, like my I'd argue objectively fairly impressive achievement I described above, but I don't seem to have the emotional data. So, I can reason myself into knowing that I achieved something - but I'm not feeling it.