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fuck your AI and fuck your scrapers

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Lethe Beltane 2024-02-18 20:40:16 -06:00
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<p>I open my RSS feed reader. There's a post at the top of the screen. <em>It's okay to be low-IQ,</em> it reads. <em>It's okay to be a follower. It's okay to not think. It's okay to not have a hobby or anything you're interested in. It's okay to accomplish absolutely nothing in life, do nothing, be nothing, become nothing.</em></p>
<p>And I find it so revolting, so viscerally upsetting, that I have to resist the urge to puke all over the keyboard and end up breaking yet another one of my laptops.</p>
<p>"I think I've found my criteria," I whisper to myself.</p>
<p>I'm not buying the propaganda that says I have to "slow down". Even though I've managed to free myself from the <a href="../../2021/may/rebirth.html">"life purpose"</a> that demanded I make a piece of art far beyond my technical skills with no assistance whatsoever, there is still a voice in my head, an exhortation, to keep going and, at the very least, finish the book I'm working on before I die. Because <strong>what am I without the will to create?</strong> What am I without the words I build my mausoleum with? What kind of life would I have lived without pushing myself to do something sans the approval or assistance of my parents, with what feels like the whole of the world pushing back, demanding I crawl back into the cardboard box of mediocrity and stay there?</p><p>I look to my brothers for a guess, a potential example. I want to shake their shoulders, demand them to answer, "How do you live like this, never creating anything of your own volition? How does your soul survive only <a href="../../2020/february/consumeproduct.html">consuming</a>, myopic, too lazy to see there's a whole world beyond this ivory tower? Is there even a soul still in your body? <em>What are you allowing yourself to become?</em>"</p>
<p>I'm not buying the propaganda that says I have to "slow down". Even though I've managed to free myself from the <a href="../../2021/may/rebirth.html">"life purpose"</a> that demanded I make a piece of art far beyond my technical skills with no assistance whatsoever, there is still a voice in my head, an exhortation, to keep going and, at the very least, finish the book I'm working on before I die. Because <strong>what am I without the will to create?</strong> What am I without the words I build my mausoleum with? What kind of life would I have lived without pushing myself to do something sans the approval or assistance of my parents, with what feels like the whole of the world pushing back, demanding I crawl back into the cardboard box of mediocrity and stay there?</p><p>I look to my brothers for a guess, a potential example. I want to shake their shoulders, demand them to answer, "How do you live like this, never creating anything of your own volition? How does your soul survive only consuming, myopic, too lazy to see there's a whole world beyond this ivory tower? Is there even a soul still in your body? <em>What are you allowing yourself to become?</em>"</p>
<p>What am I, really?</p>
<p><em>Nobody else has ever offered to give me a whole world before. Nobody else has ever thought me worthy of that kind of freedom.</em></p>
<p><em>Even if I can't give you anything else? Another income, stability, a comfortable existence...</em></p>