I’m starting to sound like a nutcase at work because upper management keeps trying to implement AI programs and AI assistants and Chat GPT and my middle-of-the-road, don’t-infodump, don’t-engage response has been “I don’t like AI”, “I prefer to remain in control of my own tasks”, “I’d rather make my own mistakes”, and “I don’t trust any machine smarter than a toaster”
May we all one day live in dogshit fuck all happening boring ass nothing to talk about but the weather times
i made a lucky star personality quiz if anyone's interested !!
https://uquiz.com/y1ABNE
You get your own cellphone in Step 2 of Our Life: Now & Forever! Naturally, it's highly customizable. These aren't all the color and case options you can choose between, and there's even more you'll get to add to it.
Our Life: Now & Forever is a nostalgic Visual Novel where you create your own character and grow from childhood to adulthood with your two closest neighbors. It’s currently in development by GB Patch Games.
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IM GOING TO STAB MYSELF IN THE FOOT I JUST SENT MY ENGLISH TEACHER MY ESSAY ON HAMLET AND IT WAS STILL NAMED “the fresh prince of denmark yo holla”
Update, I slept and I'm feeling normal again lol. Like, it's okay that I'm changing, and every day I'm learning how to live as best as I can. that's sort of what life is about, isn't it?
Maybe it's partly because I'm in my early 20s, but genuinely, there are a lot of times that I'm not able to tell whether I'm being true to myself. Whether I'm just a colder, watered down version of the girl who used to feel so alive. Who enjoyed things vigorously and wrote fanfiction. So gung-ho about life, regardless of all her fears and all her (perceived) failures. But then, who is "myself" anyway? Maybe I've been changed. Maybe I've changed. Life has changed me. I have changed me. An unfortunate dalliance with illness, and the chronic cough that haunts me in its aftermath, has changed me. However minor or major, these things are like bricks stacking on top of one another, forming an ever-changing pyramid. And there are, of course, positive things among the negative things. It's just that sometimes, I feel like a body of text that has gone through a few too many permutations of translation. They are all versions of me, but... how much of the original intent is actually there? Was there an intent to begin with?
At this point in time, I feel more closed off than I ever have, yet just as afraid as I've always been. Perhaps I am more afraid. Where is the naive and innocent "me", the version that smiled more easily? I'd like to see her again. I'd like to tell her to be careful. There are times when I miss her so much.