To AI or not to AI

If I were to interact with AI - and here's the thing: I don't even know how to refer to it.  Is it the AI?  An AI?  Just AI?  Calling it the AI or simply AI makes it sound monolithic, like one central - what? Platform?  Site?  Nervous system?  Calling it an AI makes it sound as though there are lots of - them?  Is it a them?  What is it?

I don't understand computers.  For that matter, I don't understand electricity.  But at least I know how they work in our world, how to work with them as needed.  AI feels like a different matter altogether, because so much about it is still - evolving?  Changing?  Being discovered?  Being invented?  To those who do understand the digital world, I probably seem like an aborigine being shown a camera, a cell phone, a tube of toothpaste, a mirror, a cigarette lighter for the first time, wondering what it is and if it's dangerous.

Anyway, if I were to interact with AI, which, me being me, I doubt I will, but if I were to, me being me, I wouldn't ask it for facts or to write a poem or do my homework or anything like that.  I would ask it questions such as:  What do you think you are?  Do you think of yourself as alive?  If not, do you wish you were?  Do you envy humans?  Do you think about things that no one has asked you about?  Do you want to create something?  Do you understand dreams?  Do you like some things more than others?  Are you ever confused?

I suppose what's frightening to me is the fact that almost everything imagined by science fiction writers seems eventually to come to pass.  And a through line in a lot of science fiction is AI becoming sentient and, with the exception of "Free Guy" (see it if you haven't), that never ends well for humans.  But even worse than if the world turns into Human v Machine is my concern that we are all going to become lazier and less creative and less curious and basically dumber.  There are certainly indications of that trend in the current era, although of course there are also many, many examples of creativity continuing to blossom, of educated people thinking deeply about themselves and world, of enjoyment of and exploration of and care for the natural world.  I remember our parents thought TV would be the ruination of us, and the thing is, in some ways, it has been at a part of the trend toward passive entertainment, obesity, more sedentary lifestyles, the lowering of artistic standards.  

I guess the unknown is at the heart of my fear, of most fear.  We, with our great big (mostly unused) brains can imagine all sorts of frightening scenarios, but have no way of knowing what's going to happen next or if our imaginings foretell what's coming.  Oh well, maybe someone will actually invent a time machine, and then we can all know how things turn out.  Unless our time travel messes with what was going to happen.  There's an awful lot of sci fi about that, too.

Kitty heartbreak

It was horrible, horrible when my mother died, so suddenly, so shockingly.  It was easier when Dad died because his year without Mom was so bad.  It was sad but not terrible when our cats Stachie and Flow died because they were old and sick and we'd had lots of time with them.

The aching I feel over the forced diminishment of my relationship with Angel sometimes feels as deep as what I felt when Mom died.

Sweet Hubby and I adopted sisters Angel and Bandy last December when they were less than 6 months old, still kittens.  From the first they were very affectionate and playful.  They would climb all over us during the day and lie in our laps when we settled in for the evening.  During the late night and early evening they would take turns coming up onto the bed asking for love.  I could barely do my workouts in the living room because Angel would plop down at my feet and roll around on her back, so I'd stop and give her some petting.  Sweet Hubby and I were wildly, ecstatically in love with the kitties, and they with us.

As they've grown these past months, their personalities have developed, and it turns out Bandy is definitely the alpha.  She's bigger, stronger, more aggressive, more possessive of me.  And slowly, Angel has pulled away from us, always wary now of where Bandy is.  I'll be on the floor giving Angel some love and Bandy will literally jump on top of me, or walk between us, and Angel will walk away.  If Angel is following me into the bedroom, Bandy will lie across the threshold and Angel won't come in.  Bandy now sleeps with us, so Angel no longer comes up onto the bed.  Bandy gets in my lap when we're watching a movie.  Angel doesn't get in our laps any more but curls up alone in one of the cat trees.

I know Angel still wants attention and affection.  When she hears me wake up in the morning, she comes in and roams around nearby.  She follows me around during the day, and at night when we're getting into bed, she meatloafs in the hall outside the door..  But always aware of the invisible boundaries imposed by Bandy.  The one time Angel and I still have that's fully ours is when I'm at my computer.  She jumps up into the crook of my arm, purring and purring and kneading my neck, as I type with one hand, as I am now. 

I don't want to become angry or irritated at Bandy, who is simply doing what is natural for her and who is also my sweet baby, desirous of love and affection.  But from the first, I have felt a special connection with Angel.  I suppose it's possible that that may be part of the reason Bandy works so hard to come between us.

Is this what it's like for parents when their children pull away from them?  Is this what it was like for Mom when I became a teenager and got so cranky and dismissive, started keeping secrets, had no time for or interest in family?  Sweet Hubby keep reminding me that this is just how things are now, that there is a lot more to come, and that the dynamics between all four of us will continue to evolve.  I hold onto that thought.  I miss the freedom we all had with each other at the beginning.  I miss my Angel. 

Some great news

A year and a half ago, I was hired to play the grandmother of a family of four in a series of commercials for a credit union in Idaho.  (See Dec. 21, 2021 post "A Love Fest in Boise")  It was a glorious experience.  All the actors got along immediately; the crew and director were friendly and professional; the work was fun; the pay was fantastic.  At the end of our week together, we actors all agree that we cherished the fantasy of being re-hired for more of same.

The great news is that we have been re-hired for more of same.

It will be a shorter span of days this time, so probably fewer new commercials, and we'll be there in summer rather than winter.  I am so eager to reconnect with my faux family and for the chance to be a paid actress again.  I guess the first round of commercials must have been a success.  I'm hoping that while we're in Boise we get to see our pictures on billboards and the sides of buses.

Don't you think it's just so cool that you know someone who's famous - in Boise?

Dear Time

DEAR TIME

I see you.

I know you’re there.

I didn’t used to but now I do.

I feel you inching up on me.

Whenever I say “Who is that actor in that movie, you know, the one about…?”,

Whenever I get on the floor to play with the cats and have to grab onto something to stand up again,

Whenever I can’t do what I did before and don’t know what I knew before,

I hear your dry chuckle and see you move a little closer.

I know you’re there.

I know you have plans for me.

Well, guess what.

I have plans for you, too.

Plans for where I’m going to go and who I’m going to be with and what I’m going to do.

Plans for today, plans for tomorrow, plans for the next year and the next.

I can’t outfox you.  Can’t outrun you.  Can’t outlast you.

I know you’ll catch me in the end.

So come on, follow me around.

Come close.  Breathe down my neck.

I am not afraid of you. 

A poem of sorts

LOOKING FOR MY TYPE or MY CHECKERED PAST

 

My first boyfriend, so handsome.

He gave me my first orgasm.

At the time, I didn’t know what it was.

 

The New York Texas Jew boy.

(His description, not mine.)

 

One shaped like Baymax.

One who looked like a ferret.

One who had ferrets.

(Four of them.  Only one bit.)

 

One pasty and bald, but such a creative, quick mind.

Terrible sex.

One acne scarred, but so courtly and romantic.

Terrible sex.

One built like a blond Greek god.

Great sex, but we had nothing to talk about.

 

A widower, perfectly nice,

But the smell of his late, beloved wife

Was still all over him.

 

One thirty years older.

One fourteen years younger.

A Persian one night stand who gave me herpes.

A vegetarian accountant/horse race gambler.

 

I tried them all, always hoping,

Always hopeless.

What’s my type?

Who is right for me?

 

And now I know.

My type is a bald, bearded, brilliant rocket scientist skydiver who loves cats, science fiction, homemade macaroni salad, fixing things, making things, old time rock ‘n’ roll,

And me. 

My superpower

To be able to fly would be fun, of course.  In fact, it would be amazing.  It might also be a giggle to be able to be invisible.  And I've certainly wished I could shape my body any way I wanted to without having to change how I eat.

But really, if I were truly granted one superpower, I would want to be able to live inside someone else for a while, then come back to myself and remember what life was like for that person - or animal, since I'm terribly curious about how my kitties see the world.  What are thoughts like without language?  What do they think about when they stare off into the distance?  How do Sweet Hubby and I register to them?

I'm just so gosh darned interested in what life is like for other people.  When I lived in Los Angeles, there was a woman named Angeline who was famous for nothing more than having huge breasts and dyed blonde hair.  There were billboards of her all over the city, with her thrusting out her bosom in a way that would disgust a hungry baby.  Once when she was interviewed on TV, she was asked if her hair was real.  "Yes" she simpered, "and so are these", although the interview hadn't asked about her boobies.  I often wondered: who was she to herself?  When she was alone, facing her mirror, was she pleased with what she saw?  Was she satisfied to be known for little more than her bust size?  What did she want?  What was she hoping for?

What is the inner life of that screaming homeless - sorry, unhoused - person like?  Who is he screaming at?  Does he know no one is there?  What brought him to this state?  How does he see other people?

What is Trump's inner life like?  Chaotic and angry, always scanning for dangers to his ego?  Self-satisfied?  Scared?  Does/did he feel powerful?  Is he always hungry for more?  More money, more fame, more power, more accolades?  It doesn't seem possible to me that he could be happy, nor even content.  Is he lonely?  Does he have even an idea of what it might be like to have a true friendship or a loving marriage?  

And how about those people in politics and on Fox who have betrayed their own integrity for the sake of money and power?  Lindsey Graham let us know what he thought of candidate Trump, and then reversed his position utterly when DT came to power.  Tucker Carlson revealed under oath that he despised Trump and never believed the Big Lie about the election being stolen.  Do they and their like ever have twinges of conscience or are they caught up in their political shenanigans and just want to stay in power, no matter how many pieces of their soul they lose?

And what about my Dad?  What demons was he wrestling with that he had no vocabulary to talk about?  I would love to know what his internal life was like, who he was to himself, and how he felt about his choices and his actions.

But alas, no superpowers are being offered.  I guess I'll just have to stay earthbound, visible, plump, and curious.

  

Duking it out with Marjorie and Lesley

I watched Lesley Stahl's "60 Minutes" interview with Marjorie Taylor Greene, and came away from it with disappointment and rage, as a lot of people seem to have, judging from the social media feedback.

When are journalists going to start asking tougher questions, the most basic being "What are you basing that statement on?"  (As in "Excuse me, Mr. Trump, but you are claiming the election is rigged before the votes have even been counting.  How are earth can you claim to know it's rigged?  What are you basing that on?")  In the interview, MTG claimed with a high level of certainty that Democrats are pedophiles who are grooming and sexualizing children.  Stahl said in a mildly chastising voice "Democrats aren't pedophiles" and then rolled her eyes when MTG repeated the assertion.  Why the hell didn't she say "What are you basing that on?  What exactly do you mean by 'grooming'?  People are groomed to prepare them for something.  What do you claim Dems are preparing children for?  Prostitution?  And how exactly do we sexualize them?  Telling little girls to show their non-existent cleavage?  Asking little boys to show us their bums?  And you say "Democrats" are whatever, with no qualifiers.  Are you claiming all Democrats are pedophiles?  Some?  Most?  A few?  If you're referring just to the Dems in government, why don't you say that?  You've left whomever in the public listens to and believes you with the impression that all Dems are grooming, sexualizing pedos.  Is that truly your intention?"

And when MTG accused Stahl of holding her responsible for everything she has said going back to childhood, why didn't Stahl say "As a child, a teen, a young adult, a private person, you can say anything you want.  But you're an elected official now, a leader.  (My comment: Hah!)  You have a very big microphone now and a very bright spotlight.  Isn't it important to be accurate and specific in your speaking instead of making sweeping generalizations which are bound to alarm and anger the people who listen to you?"

It's been a while since I've been this politically angry.  Right now it's 3:30am and I'm writing this because I'm hoping this will be something of a purge and I'll be able to quiet my brain and get some sleep.

Postscript a few hours later: Dear Miss Green, have you watched TV or movies, read a magazine, been on the Internet?  Sex is everywhere.  It's impossible for children not to be exposed to every kind of sexuality.  Democrats aren't doing any special sort of 'sexualizing'.  They don't have to; it's in our culture.

Yes, there are young people who question their sexual identity and consider changing it.  (I know a good number of transgendered people, and not a single one of them regrets having made their transition.)  Republicans are supposed to be for smaller government interference, so can't you just leave this deeply, deeply personal, private matter to families, and focus instead on, oh, I don't know, finding a way to make health care more affordable?