For mother’s day in the UK we went to feed the animals at J and J Alpacas. This was a really nice experience and we also saw some lambs being born. Of course I couldn’t resist taking my Ricoh GRiiix along and snapping a few shots.
I’ve been mulling over this clash between AI and the content it’s trained on for some time now. As a frequent user of AI and a regular online publisher, I see both sides of the coin. I’m well aware that the articles I put out there probably end up as fodder for some AI training algorithm. And while I know many writers are upset about their work being used this way without compensation, I personally don’t get too riled up about it.
For me, it’s simple: once I publish something online, I’ve pretty much let it go. It’s out there in the wild, free for anyone to use, maybe even to profit from. And I’m okay with that. It’s a part of the deal you accept when you decide to publish online. Keeping things private is a different story. If I have something confidential to say, I’ll do it face-to-face, away from any prying ears (or screens). Of course, even then, there’s the chance of someone passing it on, but that’s just how it goes.
Writing something down and sharing it online, though, is like leaving your notes in a public place. You’re basically saying, “Here it is. Do what you will with it.” I’ve made my peace with the fact that once I hit ‘publish’, my control over that piece of content is pretty much over.
Publishing online is a peculiar thing. Your work is both yours and not yours at the same time. It’s a different beast compared to traditional print media. You can’t hold onto digital content the same way you can hold a book or a newspaper. It’s more fluid, more elusive.
Here’s an example from my own experience. A while back, after buying a used DJI drone, I had a tough time figuring out how to reset it. I eventually sorted it out and shared the solution online. It attracted a lot of views and even helped me earn a bit through ads. But then, one day, I noticed that Google was displaying the reset steps directly in the search results. There went my little stream of income from that post. It felt a bit unfair, sure, but I didn’t dwell on it. That’s just how the modern web seems to work.
If my livelihood depended on my online content, I might feel differently. I might be more vocal in my displeasure about big tech companies using my content. There’s a lot to get annoyed about with technology, people are putting computers on the face for god sake, but some massive word cloud in a data centre somewhere, training itself on my typos and toddler level grammar, give me a break.
On their Bear blog, tiramisu writes about their family:
it doesn’t matter what he thinks or feels about things like family vacations. He does them because they’re things he should do, and moments like that illustrate how differently our brains are wired.
This cuts very close to home for me. I am a father, a husband and everything else first before I am an individual. That’s just the way I am. Whenever we do anything it is more important for my kids and my wife to enjoy things than I. Fulfilling my desires comes dead last to everything, and that’s ok.
This isn’t a sod story. Nor is it an inditement of other people getting things over on me. It is simply the way I want to live my life. I enjoy making them happy, and I am always here for other people before I am there for myself. Doing the things I enjoy, like playing the odd game, writing, or exercising is after everyone else is happy. I think I speak for every man with a family when I say my personal enjoyment starts when the kids are tired and my wife is content doing something else, I can then relax.
This is enjoyment for me, and just one of the things I ‘signed up for’ when I became a father. I put the whole world first, and I am ok with that.
Cory Dransfeldt writes in a way that feels like it’s aimed at me, because everything is a checklist:
Check, check, check, clear the queue, close the rings, get to zero. I know this looks neurotic; it is neurotic because I’m neurotic. I always have been, or at least as long as I can remember.
My wife and I have joked for a long time about the fact that if an event isn’t in our calendar, it doesn’t happen. We’ve built up this rigid structure around hospital appointments and kids' activities, that now is an unwavering bubble of organisation. There are always things to do, events to go to, and people to see – but my life neuroticism goes much deeper than this.
I have no idea where it comes from, but it seems like in life, there is always something to check off the list. Ten thousand steps, five fruits and veggies a day, eight glasses of water. Check, Check, Check. Don’t forget the smartphone app to log it all in too! Otherwise, you’re not getting the best out of life, and you’ll never be successful without these five things in your life. Just Stop.
Every so often, I end up here, in a place where every task completed is met with a few more added to the end. As the list grows, so does my anxiety about trying to reach the end—an end that is never in sight, let alone becoming any closer. At this point, I try to remind myself of a mantra picked up from Oliver Burkeman: “There will always be more work,” but it still gets a bit much sometimes.
You see, most of these books on productivity come from places of privilege. They are authored by people who either control their task lists or, quite often, occupy positions where they are no longer burdened by one. The problem is that most of us, the mere mortals who consume these books, do not sit in this graceful position. We often do not control our never-ending task list and must forever contemplate the idea of getting ‘too much done’ for fear of being given more.
There are a few golden books out there. Earlier this year, I read Make Time, which came from a more understanding place. The two authors, although afflicted with the tendency to talk about themselves too much, wrote the book from a more realistic position in working life. I am sure there are more out there too, but the books, podcasts, and YouTube videos all talk about very simple things: scheduling your work (in a myriad of different ways) and being dedicated to completing it.
You can time block. You could plan ahead. Mark one task as your priority. It doesn’t really matter. What none of them talk about, save for “4000 Weeks”, is the stress of it all. Looking at your task list and never seeing it get shorter is one of the best motivation killers imaginable. Having no breaks in your workload to think, plan, be creative, or complete a task you find more fulfilling is a passion killer—a surefire way to burn out and throw in the towel.
As I said at the start, there will always be more work, and that’s a good thing to keep moving and stay motivated. However, there comes a point when it becomes too much, the plate is piled too high, and there is no room to breathe. Drowning in tasks is a terrible way to go.