Four-Star Reflections

Keep in mind 2012? In a few circles, there was conversation about a galactic arrangement, an uncommon arrangement when our sun powered framework crossed into the "galactic plane" and was at the center of our universe. There, in the "photon belt," we got an enormous implantation of light, opening channels to higher domains of awareness.

I do not know if that happened, but I keep in mind that when I listened, I have chosen to keep track of my mindfulness to see if I moved. Charming, I know.

I began to compose everything down. Affirm, I cruelly sort everything, each thought that came to me that felt noteworthy. Feeling critical was the way it was measured, and it produced around a thousand pages of content (single-spaced, Times Unused Roman, 10-pt font).

Nestled within these words is approximately ten pages worth of substance that is hailed with a bullet, some of the time two, three, or four. These bits speak to when my skin shuddered as the thought prepared through my physical body, as if metabolizing the deepest truths of my spreading out consciousness.

The record is my favorite store. A collection of individual reflections, story premises, philosophical perceptions, and scholarly notes investigating the interconnected nature of human involvement, conviction, and imagination. These words have since turned into investigate papers, original copies, birthday cards, and lesson plans. They're around confidence and question, the advancement of conviction, individual connections with godlikeness, awareness, living, learning, and adoring. They string together a collection of rationally different thoughts, official them.

They are the primordial soup of my inventive, mental, and otherworldly advancement. My beginning story.

For a long time, I've Ctrl+F-ed my way through the record, looking terms, cutting and gluing into a unused record full of each bit I may discover on anything I was composing approximately. Gravity or WJ (shorthand for William James) or LIFAI (great luckiness unwinding that). The issue is that they're composed in a lingo that is difficult to disentangle, some of the time in other languages.

Just see at this to begin with asterisk:story p*Corp Undertaking* Fair when u had >> u dec. don’t require it. Lens=What wrong B was I holding? (=I require any/them). Let go rocks.

At a few point, I begun to codify myself, and it did offer assistance. “Story p," brief for preface, I how I labeled an thought that was implied to gotten to be a story, or the tell adaptation of what I'd afterward appear in composing. Corporate Issues is a book I composed amid NaNoWriMo (keep in mind NaNoWriMo?). The story is a commentary on degenerate corporate structures and the progressive nature of sexual badgering, where the hero is held sincerely prisoner and makes a tremendous interchange reality to elude to. The hero “has so much” in the sense that they legitimize that their career is progressing, they’re winning their worth, but they don’t require it since it is eating up the ethical fiber of their being. I famous to appear this through the focal point of untrue convictions, which I was examining in grad school, inquiring about the Cognitive Science of Religion. Spoiler alarm: they didn't require any of them, whoever they were. And “Let go of the rocks” is a reference to a motivational conversation amid tall school. The speaker told the story of an gorilla that was caught with its arm in a overwhelming clay pot. The pot had rocks interior of it, and the gorilla come to its slim-fingered hand and slim wrist in, snatched the rocks, and would not let them go. It was captured.One man’s rocks are another ape’s treasure

Another example:

*stmt. combination sci.art. wrtg. What I cruel is, in ref. to the res. and held in setting by a inventive rendition…how wrtr tranx the res. into something crtv

You see the issue now.

What the hell was I talking about?

Okay, it’s a explanation. I’d have to studied the going before content to completely get it its esteem, and not fair the passage over it, goodness no, that is not how my brain works. I can take off an thought for pages at a time and at that point come back to it with fair these little references that I was totally tuned into at the time but that I’ve since misplaced the path. Looking at it, I know it’s gold, but it would take a parcel of time to obtain its secrets.

But I need to. I need to source its code. To outline the file’s substance into repeating representations and working theories. Not fair to have them but to make them valuable without all of the work of recontextualizing and altering. I need to reissue what was once a fever, this outline. To "tranx the res.” into something inventive, outline out this intangible group of stars of ideas.

This was 2012. Keep in mind 2012? Some time recently all of this

You know what I cruel. This computerized period. This AI buildup. This collective fear of machine-cannibalized imagination and an mechanized rethreading of the social fabric.

The quality of pre-AI contemplations is immaculate. Incidentally, their virtue is moreover what regarded them as great information to bolster the machine.

So what did I do in my online Humanities in the AI Age course? The one I'm taking to development my information and skillset? To survive the work showcase? The one where I'm learning to work with AI, make information, and do investigate on AI to maintain a strategic distance from capitulating to the gendered crevice in practical post-AI careers? The one that engages me to skew this mammoth toward my needs to offer assistance make the goddamn value myself?

I utilized the machine to construct a little dialect show and organize my file.

It's neighborhood. Private. Contained.

It's not a brutal show, scratching your information all the livelong day, fortifying systemic bigotry. Not a large-scale form that advances sexual orientation predisposition or maintains observation capitalism. It's not at billions of fingertips. It's not situated for benefit. It's for the client. It's not to monetize our feelings in the title of tech headway or nourish us the dream of nonpartisanship whereas imperceptibly increasing misogyny and privatized imagination, cloaked in untrue claims of popular government that as it were straighten the human soul into information and at that point offer it back to us in a freemium membership plan.

It's not that guy.

Every lesson, we learn how to survive this period of incredible vulnerability. How to work with the instruments that undermine our financial presence. How to procure what little collect we may from the areas of constrained adjustment in a field we never thought we'd be in. How to motivate ourselves and others to stand up to deletion in frameworks planned to disregard us and recover origin in an age of mechanization. How to keep our plumes at the bleeding edge of our helpless industries.

We can take back what was mined without assent and take advantage of what makes a difference without harming. Little dialect models prepare content locally, so your information isn’t shared with to enormous servers. They let you play with imaginative increase without nourishing enormous organizations or strengthening large-scale predispositions. They can be devices without being exploitative. Their information is little and limit, with an craving as it were for what you nourish it. You are the chef, the human client who chooses what it devours and why and how.

But what do I know? I’m fair a author, standing in front of a peruser, inquiring them to adore what I’ve made from my words.

I know that amid week 13 of lesson, I knew sufficient to make a free store to communicate with an agentic coding program that changed my unreasonable notes into printed presence and assembled them by their subject. I know this is one of a thousand thoughts I could've attempted that week.

Consider yourself entreated. It's time for your 13-year booster shot to reinvigorate that 2012 cherish pillar infusion. Grasp the period; it's here to remain. Contribute in your human aptitudes, for these, as well, are unadulterated, developed some time recently all of this. Put your tech where your craftsmanship is and get making. Pick up certainty in the instruments that alarm you, and hold tight to your inherent value.

The galactic plane individuals might say, it's time to stand in the light of your imaginative drive. At one point, I said it's time to:

"Ven the cav w/ the fats & put ur tools2use. What ru+@? What pt. of being + if ur not gonna?"

That little, neighborhood demonstrate I built examined my records, amplified my shorthand, redressed my mechanical blunders, and contextualized my references. Presently, my words are prepared to be conveyed into unadulterated works of art.

"Come out of the cave with the Destinies and put your instruments to utilize. What are you great at? What's the point of being great at it if you're not going to do it?"

*This, my featured disobedience.