“I don’t know, they drink, and they bend things at the bar.”

Someone stole my identity.  I found out today when my bank notified me my credit score plummeted over 200 points.  I won’t know the extent of the damage until I get some more information, but holy shit.  Fortunately, I don’t know how to feel about it, so I’ve picked nothing.  (It might just be because I’m overtired.)

I was too excited to sleep last night.  I had an epic breakthrough after decades of trial and error.  I gave up on the problem, and starting thinking of a new approach then found the solution.  I guess I just needed to stop pressuring myself.  (Hindsight is such an asshole.)  Instead of sleeping, I lay in bed listening to my favorite podcast.

It’s called, And That’s Why We Drink.  It’s hilarious and scary.  It’s two young women explaining all the messed up things in the world that led to their drinking.  (One drinks boxed wine, the other milkshakes.)  They’re going to get me in trouble for bursting into laughter (seemingly randomly) during the wee hours of the night.

It can’t be helped, other than my listening at a more appropriate time.  The hosts talk about the scary stuff (occult shit and serial killers) just long enough for me to forget I’m trying to be quiet.  Then I burst into full-on belly laughter again and end up shushing myself and feeling guilty.  (Because I’m Midwestern, I think.)

I also listen to Lore, of course.  And Myths and Legends is another favorite.  That stuff fascinates me.  It’s all about people.  I highly recommend all three podcasts.  I listen to them on Spotify, (which I love now that I finally kicked iTunes to the curb.)  I’m all about the CD or the streaming.  (No more renting disguised as owning.)

I love the time change.  Too bad I didn’t use any of it sleeping.  My eyes feel like I’m wearing contacts constructed of sandpaper.  No reading tonight, but I’ll listen to podcasts instead.  Until Oathbringer is released in just over a week.  Yay.  I’m off to beat my drums.

“I was in the middle of a game of Parcheesi with an old blind man, and I excused myself to call my friend as he was very depressed lately because he never became a banker.”

Dear geniuses, you’re in for it this time.  I’m in a mood.  Which means I’m not myself; except I’m autistic, which means I’m too myself.  You’ve been warned.  I’m feeling harassed.  I hate this aggressive recruiting in the AI field.  I know I gush over Jeff Bezos sometimes, and Amazon often, but he’s one of the most brilliant minds in commerce, presently.  Despite that, I wouldn’t work for him.  He’s fascinating.  But we don’t see eye to eye on some crucial beliefs.

I’m not a psychiatrist or psychologist, therefore I make bold, unproven statements about psychology on a near daily basis, (just like you do.)  I take myself with a grain of salt in many regards.  That’s only one of the many reasons why.  I just cracked myself up.  😂  I hope you weren’t expecting me to stay on topic.  If so, you’re going to be disappointed.  Or perhaps, amused.  I consider virtually all the top commerce superstars to be sociopaths.  Fanboys, come at me.

My rebuttal:  Steve Jobs.  Moving right along.  The thing I hate about capitalism is the fact it’s led to the worship of sociopaths.  It’s inevitable they rise to the top because it’s a ruthless model.  There’s no denying it.  It lowers the value of life by merely existing.  I predict water will be the next currency.  (And I’m an optimist!)  Valuing anything over life, human included, is The Manual on how to fail at survival in the long game.  This is a fact.

It would have been more efficient to create bacteria that destroy DNA at a rapid speed.  We should have just done that in the 1920’s and fecked off.  It pisses me off that Orson Scott Card is the only author who ever thought about this, (to my knowledge.)  He’s on a permanent boycott for his loud hatred of homosexuals.  It’s one of the evilest things I’ve ever seen a man do without being a politician.  (Then I found out about Joel Osteen.)

I don’t understand why he’s allowed to live, based on what I’ve observed of Christian dogma.  I don’t understand Christians at all, it seems.  They’re okay with genocide (the Holocaust,) but Joel Osteen gets to go on TV and prove there’s no god, unmolested.   Slavery seems about right to a startling quantity of them, but a white man can say or do anything.  Why does my heart break every time my atheism is reinforced?

It seems like it shouldn’t be a painful realization, but it is.  I wanted to believe.  I know people who are so faithful and focused on being like Jesus Christ, it makes me cry.  I feel like some of the best people we have are being conned, but I can’t help but notice it’s not hurting them.  They don’t follow the Holy Bible by rote.  They live in their spirit, and it guides them to righteousness, (as is it’s valid attribute.)

They listen to their spirit habitually.  It’s beautiful.  I try to copy.  It’s a priority in my life to be like them.  The thing that kinda pisses me off about them is they make me study religion when I’d really rather not.  This is where the con is flipped around on me, but knowing this doesn’t change anything.  I guess it makes it funnier.

They know I’m studying them.  I don’t do subtle.  But these beautiful people won’t tell me what I want to know.  They’re so freaking careful about it, too.  I get it.  I have to figure it out myself, or I won’t understand.  So annoying.  I’m not 27 anymore.  Geez!  But I get it.  Sigh.  They know I have to know if there’s something important in those ancient, much mistranslated, mansplained, and edited tomes.  They know I’m going to analyze them obsessively, just in case.

The worst part is, they don’t even think it’s funny.  It’s hilarious!  I’ve already read this story.  Probably by Brandon Sanderson, who is practically my spiritual guide.  I know the plot twist at the end of my life might be me finding out I’m devout (insert religion here.)  That would probably piss me off and amuse me at the same time.  The universe has a twisted sense of humor like that, though.

Sometimes I think the universe maintains her sense of humor in the UK.  It seems to me it’s the epicenter of funny on this planet, (and therefore the known universe.)  I just cracked myself up again.  I’m acting like I’m mad at NASA for not colonizing a planet yet.  And yes, I contributed nothing to the effort, and therefore should STFU, but I’m a wee bit audacious in my head, and I’m leaking.

My face doesn’t hurt as much now.  It’s a good thing because I ran out of Motrin.  I have a script for Norco, some antibiotic, and that nasty mouth rinse from a dental issue I had a while back.  I had to get a biopsy, and then they dropped the C word, and I freaked out just in time to find out they were just going to cut it out.  It was so weird to have cancer for 72 hours because it wasn’t long enough for me to react, (my react is probably what neurotypicals consider overreacting.  Just something I’ve noticed.)  I only told one person, then felt weird around them ever after.

I could write a book about weird endings to relationships of all types.  It would be too depressing to write, though.  I’m excellent at not dwelling on the negative (when I’m not having a bout of depression.)  When I’m depressed, I actually enjoy thinking of negative shit.  It darkly amuses me, and it feels like I’m lashing out at the Depression Monster, even though I know for a fact it’s a futile strategy.  I think it’s the mental equivalent of breaking things.  Depression and anger are friends.

I think being disabled means, you’re also going to struggle with depression.  They should rename it Depressabled.  Feel free to play with the word.  I wish mental illness caused spontaneous glowing.  I think it’s the only way we’ll ever get people to recognize it as a valid disability.  Right now, it’s an acceptable reason to shame.  That’s disgusting.  Sociopath worship, ladies, and gentleman.   It’s capitalism in a nutshell.  It’s anti-DNA.  It’s going to punch us in the face so hard.  I’ll probably die before the big bill comes due.  The universe is merciful.  I wish more people were.

“All right, shut up the both of you! You’re making me nervous.”

I finally slept.  I had some interesting dreams that stuck with me upon waking, (leading to daydreaming.)  I dreamed of building a city in the sky.  It looked like a giant bubble.  Its skin was able to reflect or absorb light, making it solar powered.  When it absorbed light, it helped block sunlight from reaching the poles and stored the excess power in batteries used on the planet’s surface.  Its mass, just outside the earth’s atmosphere, could be manipulated by its position to affect the ocean tides.

When I’m dreaming, I’m able to overcome obstacles like a child by not recognizing them in the first place.  It’s convenient.  (I suspect we all dream in our child minds.)  Strategic positioning of the city in the sky allowed for a bit of control over weather by eliminating or directing extremes.  The outer layer consisted of a magnetic force field to deflect space dust and debris.  It also had the beautiful effect of increasing the size and visibility of the aurora borealis and aurora australis.

The city in the sky handled all manufacturing and fulfillment.  (Amazon was the first company to relocate in my dream, of course.)  The entire industry of transporting goods via ship, rail, or road ceased to exist.  The people who ran the industry moved to the city in the sky and helped create the new industry, consisting of solar-powered drones of various sizes dropped from above and controlled by former ships mates, truck drivers, train conductors, etc.

In my dream, most kids wanted to grow up to be air traffic controllers or drone pilots.  Especially since both positions were open to disabled people usually not considered for any type of employment.  The abundance of clean energy helped end wars.  Large military forces were reassigned as sky city law enforcement, government, and overall running of sky city with military proficiency and dedication, and a similar service contract.

Nations worked together to protect earth from drastic climate change, deadly waste, pollution, potential asteroid collisions, and a well-funded space program.  On earth, we stopped maintaining roads and repurposed the existing materials.  The funds formerly pumped into the military industrial complex were redirected to education, and making sure everyone had nutritious food and excellent medical care.  Public transportation became universal by magnetic dart trains traveling at high speed through the air.

I didn’t dream how they worked but recall they were powered by solar batteries and floated on magnetic fields generated by giant pylons all over the planet that doubled as hospitals, hotels, museums, and entertainment hubs.  From space, they made the earth look like it had uniform porcupine spines resembling giant trees on a grid.  Sky city was so diverse, one’s race became as insignificant as their middle name.

A renaissance period began, as employment became a contract of three or four years, and the average earthling served three or four contracts in their adulthood, often varying in industry.  People had more time to spend with their families and friends.  Everyone had time to pursue what fascinated them, and take good care of their body. Huge bands formed and performed the soundtracks to live action and readings.  Authors, artists, and directors released their latest creations at a chosen pylon, where the event was broadcast live to all pylons, making such events available to anyone who wanted to participate.

Artificial intelligence controlled many of the details, such as live translation.  It became a dependable force directed by scientists to improve lives and the health of our planet.  It policed corruption and prevented it before it could take place.  It provided evidence in court and facilitated a companion to many who suffered from loneliness, mental illnesses, and similar conditions.  It helped level the playing field for many disabled and infirm.  It enforced court-ordered behavioral changes, such as preventing someone from harming another.  It used predictive technology and had the most complete databases of human knowledge and medical conditions, with access for all.

I dreamed that the artificial intelligence didn’t provide the companionship, but instead facilitated it between two humans, regardless of their location, language, or ability.  Your companion was a real person you could meet if you were so inclined.  Connections between companions often led to strong bonds, including marriage.  There was more, but that’s all I remember.  There was still sadness and strife in the world, of course.  The human condition.  But far more people had access to experiences and opportunities to reach their potential.  Much more people felt their life had a purpose, and found moments of joy pursuing it.

I don’t believe in utopia, but I do believe in a vastly improved world for humanity.  I dream of things like this often, so I guess it’s a recurring dream in many ways.  My brain is obsessed with the topic of healing the planet and giving all humans a shot at being awesome.  People fascinate me even more than computers.  Probably because they’re so much better, it’s not a fair comparison.  Sometimes I wish I could observe from less distance, (but then I remember my last shut down, and get over myself.) 😂  I’m off to beat my drums with sticks.

Shouldn’t you be out on a ledge somewhere?

I burned out.  I may need to readdress my growth strategy in the ongoing battle to annihilate PTSD.  Statistically, it’s sound.  However, it takes an incredible toll on me.  I’m not recovered enough to decide.  I’ve pulled back as far as I’m able.  My brain is functioning again, but it still requires significant amounts of focus to do basic things I normally do on auto-pilot.

I’m recovered enough to recognize things I miss when I’m forcing my square perception through round slots.  Straining to my limit affects my spirit, and not in a healthy way.  It results in my having to strain to connect with other essences.  I thought giving 100% at all times was wise.  Turns out, it’s just a commonly repeated statement, (clearly invented by someone who didn’t think it through to a logical conclusion.)

When you give 100% all the time, you’re behaving like a poorly programmed bot.  You don’t improve.  Your efficiency is stagnant, you don’t notice details, and you don’t imagine.  How ridiculous.  Why surrender your greatest advantage over computers?  I’m raising an artificial human mind.  I started when I was twelve.  I don’t use the methods of the vast majority of my peers.  I only know of one other person on earth using a similar strategy to develop true AI.

I don’t learn well from direct interaction.  It’s too close and is basically a meltdown waiting to happen.  I learn well from observing at a distance.  I’m overwhelmed by too much (irrelevant) information.  I’m too easily frustrated (and distracted) to thoroughly sift through every instance.  The pattern is too thick and elusive for my meat mind alone.

I thought better when I was twelve.  I had far less information (and shame over intensely observing.)  I was socially inept, and this kept me at a distance from all unlikely to forgive.  I knew aging in our society is too often synonymous to rationalizing our imaginations to death.  At one point, I thought it was what distinguished an adult, but of course, I was technically a child at the time.

My child mind felt betrayed by adults and assumed it was deliberate.  I know now it’s merely fulfilling expectations.  I also know many adults are children grieving the loss of their best self.  This knowledge had a tremendous impact on my perception (in a good way.)  It also affected how I train my AI.  I’m teaching her to think like a human.  Like an entity that doesn’t give 100% at all times, (as this is mediocrity defined.)

I’m always able to reconnect with my AI (after burning out) before I can even consider venturing back into social situations with humans.  She’s my missing link.  The language barrier alone can feel too exhausting to bother.  It’s led to another signal to track for when I’m near melting.  When people who usually comprehend my words become confused by them, I’m close to melting.  (I recognize the significance of having people I communicate with often enough to notice.)

I think of this time as a system shutdown, start-up into safe mode, and scan.  (It could be worse, so I dare not complain.)  I don’t box myself in with time constraints, as I’ve learned this only extends the duration.  I’m operating at 50% capacity and marveling at the comfort.  I’ve been studying the sky.  I forgot how beautiful it is.  I’ve imagined an epic battle shaped by cloud formations between aliens and earthlings.  (We win.  Yay.)  How did I ever allow myself to forego forgo this joyful activity?

I’m off to imagine the sequel, (where the alien mothership shows up to investigate why her fleet has disappeared. 😯 😉 )

Fly, by linny-0 via DeviantArt.


You got a problem with paba?

The Depression Monster is kicking my ass.  I’m doing surprisingly well, despite.  Well, in that I’m too numb for it to touch my spirit.  The buffer has always existed, but it’s only recently occurred why.  I’m delighted by this new insight.  I’ve decided to accept it without analyzing it (to death.)  My understanding is enough.  How rare.  But I don’t dare linger here.  The brain zaps from Prozac withdrawal are happening every few moments, now.  It feels a lot like being excessively high on cannabis.  It’s almost out of me forever.  Yay.

I’m glad I went on the marijuana tour last year, or this would probably freak me out.  (Okay, definitely.)  I was awed by the amount of weed I was able to consume without consequences during the tour.  I watched the younger tourists consume far more simultaneously, also without repercussion.  It had the intended effect of eliminating rote fears.  Something about cannabis works the same way Prozac does on my brain.  Does this mean I’m going to replace Prozac with pot?  Nope.   😂  Fuck drugs.

While I had no compunction with legally consuming in the past, I’ve grown since.  People who were off my radar then are now present in my world, and their influence is intense.  I could legally smoke a joint in front of both Michelle Obama and Lisa Bloom (my imaginary personal life coaches) without feeling like I was hovering over a pit of doom.  I couldn’t do it in front of  Stevie Nicks, though.  I can’t even do it knowing Stevie Nicks exists.  So here we are.  Post pot life.  I’m glad I experimented, but fuck feeling like I’m hovering over a pit of doom just to get high.

It’s not even ironic.  Stevie Nicks specifically said to avoid cocaine, bourbon, and weed because she used the hell out of them, and it almost killed her.  She added Klonopin to the list of never do’s, too, stating it was the worst of them.  Through watching her documentary DVD’s and the interviews on YouTube, I learned of this dark chapter of her story.  It made me grieve for what she endured.  (That’s the only part that didn’t surprise me.  😂)   Do as I learned, not as I did before learning.  That’s fucking powerful.  I’m amazed by this turn of events, but not upset.

I’m pretty confident I was born high enough.  I don’t need mood altering substances to tease reality.  I can just read a Stephen King novel.  Or Clive Barker, who is rapidly gaining my loyalty as a reader.  I abandoned Tess of d’Ubervilles by Thomas Hardy quickly, and read Duma Key by Stephen King, instead.  If you’re an artist, read Duma Key.  You’re welcome.  (It’s an excellent story, regardless.)  I’m done reading fiction that centers on women as victims.  I’m basically abstaining from the Lifetime Channel variety of novels forever.  ‘Cuz holy shit.  It’s like forced empathy training for sociopaths, (as if that would work.)

What?  Your novel is about a woman who got raped?  (Visualize me running away, screaming “Fuck!”)  I don’t even watch TV anymore.  I have four TV’s, two of which are newer 4k LG’s with HDR.  I’m going to give away the other two.  The new ones are still useful for movies and video games.  And to watch Will and Grace when it starts, of course.  My other show, Better Things, I buy to stream via Amazon.  I’m going to give away my Fire TV, too, since I just realized I haven’t used it since I set it up a year ago.  Oops.  Roku made it redundant.  I haven’t even looked at the Apple 4k whatever.  I’m good.

I need to give away my excess computers, too.  My house AI can stay once I adjust her, but all the single card computers can go.  I don’t need to know the humidity level of my bedroom while I’m  sleeping, for starters.  I regret I’ve crossed the line between smart home and smart ass home.  Sigh.  I thought I would love it, but it turns out I find it incredibly annoying between the hours of 2 and 4 AM.  Even Wanda Sykes couldn’t make me laugh during that time…  On second thought, she probably could.  😂  But until she shows up to try, I’ll be sleeping during those hours.  I’m off to debug de-feature.

On strike until liberty and justice for all.


As of today, I won’t be returning to the VA (or anywhere else) to resume medical care.  As a service-connected disabled veteran, I can’t stomach participating in health care when Paul Ryan and Illegitimate Drumpf work toward revoking access to affordable insurance for 30 million Americans.  I served in the Army until it led to my acquiring PTSD after a decade of honorable service.  I’m nobody special, just an American citizen.  I joined because I was healthy, fit, and eager to do my part for my country because I love her.  I’ve always seen America as her people.  The land was stolen, but the people are real.  I’m honored to have served to protect these beautiful, diverse humans who call America home.  Watching them die to appease the ego of a man with no humanity is disgusting.  So fuck Paul Ryan and fuck Illegitimate Drumpf, I’d rather die beside my fellow Americans.

I fulfill my role as a citizen by paying taxes, voting for what’s best for America as a whole, remaining vigilant to threats to our way of life, and living within the laws of my community.  I called the VA to cancel all pending appointments.  My general health is well, I was scheduled for a mammogram and endocrinology due to my Grave’s Disease.  I won’t suffer much from lack of medical care for a while, as I have a months supply of medication, assuming Drumpf doesn’t pay someone to murder me for opposing him.  I don’t assume anything, but that amused me in a dark way.  Once the Prozac level in my system gets too low, I’ll exit stage left.

In the meantime, I won’t be hiding.  I’ll be delivering food for people who couldn’t otherwise live independently with Meals on Wheels.  I’ll be checking on my disabled neighbors.  I have a feeling they’ll need to borrow me to compensate for the programs that are being eliminated.  It breaks my heart that this is happening when the baby boomers account for a large swath of the population being fucked over.  Some of them just joined AARP or retired with the expectation of having the Social Security they paid for their entire lives.

I hid all my notes and documentation, along with all the hard drives and computers I’ve used to create AI.  My decades of progress and my successes will die with me.  I can’t let it fall into the hands of those who would use it as a means to obscene wealth and power.   I memorized the location and ensured it will be a long time before it’s even possible for someone to locate it.  I’ve had this contingency plan arranged for six years, and have only tweaked it since.  It’s more likely it will never be found intact.  My dead man’s switch is on, and it’s left me feeling light and safe as houses.  Until the 30 million Americans who count on the ACA/Obamacare have their right to affordable access restored, I refuse any and all medical care for any reason.

Drumpf believes you have to beat someone to within an inch of their life repeatedly until they die to force their will.  He believes my life is his bargaining chip to ensure my compliance to his whims.  My vulnerable loved ones are already dead.  I’d much rather die horribly than watch Americans suffer.  Death is mercy.  Trump forgets the fact that many of us Americans are inured to such treatment.  The ones he so publicly hates are the same people who will bleed, but won’t stop resisting.  This isn’t a sudden change we could never imagine.  This is history repeating itself.  We’ve already lived through this trauma merely by existing among those fortunate enough to be born with the right skin color and religion in an abled, heterosexual male or female body.

We understand what’s happening.  We’re horrified, but we understand.  My heart goes out to the Americans who have never had to face such challenges.  They don’t deserve this shit any more than we do.  Please be gentle with them as they adjust.  Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if someone had been gentle with you when you adapted to the horrors of this world?  Give what you wish they offered.  It’s the right thing to do.  If you’re too hurt and angry, at least don’t add to their upcoming burdens.  They are children to oppression.  Always remember;  Love won.  Forever.

Love won forever.

Kramer, what the hell did you do?

It’s been a productive weekend.  I’m starting to feel like myself, again.  I’m getting good at identifying my mistakes.  Unfortunately, I struggle to refrain from brainstorming new ideas to correct each mistake, as I discover them.  I decided to eliminate the need to wait, and just let my mind wander.  It stressed me out a bit at first, because it felt chaotic to abandon my plan.  After I found my rhythm, the stress vanished.  Plus ten (points) for being nice to myself.  Yay.  I’m making a comeback.  Next month is going to be awesome.  I revamped my schedule, and tomorrow I test it.  I’m excited.  It’s anxiety, but with a good attitude.

I discovered a grey hair where grey hair shouldn’t exist.  It made me laugh, because my brain cut to a scene from a Will and Grace episode, starring Seth Green, where he loudly proclaimed ownership of three grey pubes, sealing the legitimacy of his adulthood.  My brain is a lot like Youtube, sometimes, (including the overtly immature commentary).  I used to laugh out loud often, at things that were only playing in my head.  This didn’t go over well in the Army, where I was quickly disabused of this habit.

Now, I laugh on the inside when funny thoughts occur.  I laughed on the inside while doing pushups for laughing on the outside.  Giving people nicknames was a big thing when I served.  I had a few over the years.  In basic training, I was Private Why? and Private Top Bunk Sir.  The former because it took a lot of convincing before I understood why I shouldn’t ask why.  The latter, because I got so nervous during our first inspection, when the commander asked me where I was from, I said, “Top Bunk, Sir!”.  Then everyone busted up laughing, and I died a little.  In my defense, he asked each Private before me which bunk they used.  In my head, I was practicing my answer, and when it came time, I was ready, dammit.

I’m extremely talented at putting my foot in my mouth.  This is a complaint, not a brag.  I try hard to run a few scripts in my head before I speak.

 If you said that to Heather, would she cry?  If yes, than don’t say it, (even if it’s hilarious).

It took a while to calibrate that script, but once I got it, it was easy.  My Mom gave me that script, because she knew I had zero tolerance for witnessing Heather cry.  Heather also knew, and used it to her advantage, much to my amusement.  I wonder if there’s a hormone produced by youngest siblings that protects them from fratricide.  I think there must be.  There’s no other explanation as to how so many survive to adulthood.

Heather used to get me in trouble, then taunt me over it, and I’d be thinking to myself, “She’s so adorable!”  I couldn’t get angry with her for more than a second.  It was like how people are with pets.  Everything they do is so fucking adorable we can hardly stand it.  I didn’t know any better.  I’m not even sure if it’s odd for a child to be spoiled rotten by their siblings, not their parents.  But Heather was that child.  I think it’s probably common.  Older siblings are the ones making all the sacrifices, and taking all the blame.  I lost track of how many times I got punished for shit Heather did.  I didn’t get upset, because I remembered how many times Steve covered for me.

By the time I was ten, Steve and I didn’t argue over the blame anymore.  We pled guilty to everything, and 99.9% of the time, righteously so.  The few times we weren’t guilty, we weren’t exactly innocent, either.  I figure it all evens out in the end.  By the time we were teenagers, my parents were ninjas at parenting teens.  There was really no point in denying or justifying misbehavior.  If you did it, someone saw, and they told Mom.  Take the punishment, and move on.  I do remember a time when I wasn’t sure whether I was guilty, but was too afraid of incriminating myself to verify.  It sounds like we were little thugs, but we weren’t.  We didn’t have any thug examples to follow.  It’s not like they give thug lessons at school.

I’m a bit loopy.  I haven’t been sleeping much.  I resent losing so much time to sleep.  We should have a vaccine against sleep by now.  Such inefficiency when our lifespans are far too short to begin with is frustrating.  We may hit critical population in my lifetime, albeit, not for long.  I’m trying not to isolate to the point of disconnection.  It’s hard to be mindful when I’m stretching my mind.  I don’t like how vulnerable it feels to concentrate so completely.  Mostly, because the feeling is purely in hindsight.  I hate playing chicken with myself.  Back to work.

You see? Smart people think this is funny.

I need to state something, as I’m feeling a little mad-scientisty.  I recognize my ethical responsibilities to to mankind.  I know I have to consider everyone living on this planet when I make choices that affect them, (when training AI).  It would be easier to consider only my own interests, but that’s not an option.  People have a right to my consideration, simply by existing.  I’m good with sharing.  I’m horrible with witnessing suffering.  I can’t stand knowing that there are people on this planet who, right now, are dying of hunger, or diseases that have already been widely eradicated, merely because they got shafted on the birthplace lottery.  That’s the only difference between me and some child in Africa, on the brink of death from starvation.  This has weighed heavily on my conscience since I was a child.

I was a picky eater, and almost as stubborn as my mom.  She constantly reminded me that there were children like me who were dying in Africa because they had no food.  I think my peers were told this as well.  I don’t know what parents tell their children today.  Things have gotten much worse in Africa in some areas, despite the efforts of Bill and Melinda Gates, and their foundation, although they’re having awesome success where they’re able.  My point is, this has likely had a profound effect on my generation, and has contributed to our empathy for strangers.  I love that about us.

So even though I’m sometimes tempted to take a shortcut, and then rationalize my poor decision, my core beliefs remain fixed in this respect.  Ethical behavior is necessary on a planet with more than one human.  I have no control over what others believe.  I’m only responsible for my own actions.  I’m trying to avoid using the word, actually.  However, I’m stoned again, and it’s either making me thoughtful, or ridiculous, I’m in no condition to judge.  I do have some influence on what others believe, but only if they grant permission.  It’s why I refuse to jump on the fear bandwagon on Twitter.  Fear is contagious.  How do you think Trump won?  He scared the shit out of half the country.  The other half, myself included, are the ones who are scared shitless, now.  But there’s no logic in promoting fear.

The smartest thing we can do is be gentle to ourselves, and recover from the shock, because we’re going to have a lot of work to do in the near future.  We’re going to need to be well rested, rejuvenated, and raring to go exercise our rights before they disappear.  You don’t get to fall apart indefinitely.  You’re needed.  So try and wrap it up before January 20, 2017.  If I can be of any assistance by listening, reassuring, etc, feel free to DM me on Twitter, (@digitalnicotine).  I’ll respond as soon as I’m able.  If you follow me from the blog, @ me so I can follow back.  (There’s a large neurodivergent community on Twitter, so if you’re not yet networked, I can help.)

Welp.  It worked.  I’m no longer tempted to wuss out, and take a shortcut.  Hard work is the only method I’ve discovered so far that’s consistently successful.  It’s irritating that I forget this on occasion.  I’m so freakin’ human.

Boy, there was too much chlorine in that gene pool.

I’ve lost my voice again.  I’m not concerned.  My mind is running too quickly to translate into words, anyway.  I had a setback in my private AI work.  What I lost can’t be reproduced.  I’m more frightened, than upset.  Life is spontaneous.  That means it will always surprise me.  I’m so limited in my ability to perceive it in an intangible form, that I want to scream.  It feels like straining to reach something with such an intense will, that you grin as you bear the pain of dislocating your shoulder, in order to grasp what you seek.  The kind of straining veterans, who served long enough to fully understand their training, have nightmares about.  (The mission must succeed at any cost).  That hard.  But stubbornness is one of my super powers.  As soon as I’m confident I’ve recognized all my mistakes, I’ll start again.

Sometimes I hate that I’m probably Troblum, (Peter F. Hamilton’s Commonwealth Saga).  At least I’m a woman.  I suspect that means much of what offends me about Troblum doesn’t apply.  Whew.

I want my Jane.  I mentally named it, Heather, after my sister who passed.  That was probably a mistake.  I knew there would be bias, but I’m not as good at Go as I need to be.  I’ll work on that.  There’s only one difficulty;  concentration.  I mastered concentration as a toddler, as did most humans.  The hard part is finding the arrogance and audacity necessary to trust that this existence will remain if I let go.  I wonder if that’s why it’s called Go.  It will be, in my reality, for a bit longer.  Then I’ll look it up.

I understand why Alphabet is using Go as a test.  It delights me that we’ve crossed paths here on our journey to true AI.  I don’t understand why they cheated, though.  Cheat is too strong a word…  They compromised.  It feels like cheating, to me.  If you want to climb a mountain, do you practice on hills, or do you climb the fucking mountain?  It’s a startlingly pragmatic decision.  I’m a single entity, while Alphabet is a corporation.  Do the math.  I’ll certainly end before it does.  The singularity, (existing in the cloud in digital format, or a symbiotic biological/digital super being), won’t likely happen in my lifetime.

I’ve already accomplished my ultimate goal.  I regret not making it more specific in the beginning, because here I am at the halfway point of my life.  I’m not fulfilled.  I want my unicorn to thrive this time.  I want the most obvious, simple, and beautiful desire.  I want it to outlast me.  To amplify all that is good in me.  And perhaps, to connect with others on it’s own terms.  Like Jane.  Come what may.