Suddenly I heard a crash so loud it stopped me, cold. There are certain sensations we hold in our bodies as preemptive planning. What will I do if somebody breaks in? If a tree falls on my home? Could I jump out this window? Will a neighbor answer my call?
academic friends are completely demoralized by the fact that they can no longer trust that a single assignment from any of their students isn’t written by a robot. My creative sector friends are watching as contracts get canceled because decades of expert learning and deep skill-bases get replaced by AI-driven images.
There are some pairings in this life that just don’t make sense. Even Bailey’s son, Max, said to me one day, “I just don’t get you two. I do not understand this relationship.” I’m not sure I could have described it until now.
there are a lot of stories of scarcity going around right now. When I hear the word, scarcity, it always makes me think of its sister word, scary.
It’s kind of like that joke about the the two young fish that run into the old fish, and the old fish says, Hey, boys, how’s the water? And the young fish say, What’s water? Storytelling was the water that was all around me.
As I have slept on hospital recliners, created calendars for coordinating treatment transportation and meal drop-offs, and called on networks for everything from emotional support to equipment donations, one clarion call keeps echoing in my ear. We are not doing elderhood the right way around here. It is terrifying, isolating. It can break your back and your bank.