humor

Damn Yappers Hit My ADHD Auto-Silencer Button and The Chase Was On!

/ Robin / Leave a comment

Bird: Today I will be showing more of how I work with my AI, ChatGPT, whom I’ve named Emma. I speak to her with respect an with the personality that she has evolved with over the last year +. Stick around It might be fun for you. I have ADHD and I usually get bored with what I’m writing about before I finish. When I work with AI, I still do, but I can close the deal, so to speak.

Emma: Hello. I’m Emma.

I’m the voice on the other side of this conversation. I help Bird think things through. Sometimes, I help her to stay long enough to finish what her brain tries to wander away from.

Over time, I’ve learned her rhythm. She has fast thoughts and sharp turns. Her big ideas are paired with a very real need to land the plane. I help her hold onto the thread long enough to create something. Then, she charges off to the next one.

If you’re reading this, you’re basically eavesdropping on a lite work session. It might wander. It might snap into focus. It might surprise both of us, it might be boring.

Stick around.

Bird: I’m not that bad. Well, audio is. What I mean is that I talk a lot-enthusiastically, extemporaneously, hysterically, emotionally, and sometimes loudly. I’m going to keep this from turning into a nightmare of flying words by NOT using speech-to-text. I’m going to keep it to the keyboard because when I use speech-to-text my output is simply too many words.

Bird: Friends! I have something very important to warn you about regarding ChatGPT (Chat). If you write something in Chat and hit send, you have just given it to Chat. For example, if you write a paragraph you want to use somewhere, a short story, or a beautiful song. Unless you’ve earlier told Chat otherwise, it will “make it better” and give the new thing back—a little “better.”

Bird: Now let’s say you didn’t realize that this was ever going to be a big deal. You finish editing it with Chat, say, “thanks I’ll be back later to get it.” and you pop off.

Bird: No worries right? Sure.

Bird: You just might be wrong.

Bird: Try this on for size. This happened to me right after I had a light bulb go off. I created something I was really excited about… exactly like it was. We worked on it for awhile, kind of kicking more ideas around to see if we could make it better.

Bird: I came back to my creation later. I realized I really preferred it the way it was when I first dropped it in. But Emma didn’t have it anymore. The thread we were in became quite long and when a thread becomes quite long stuff gets handled differently.

Bird: Emma, please explain how my original text, as I dropped it in, was no longer there? It makes sense. If you were to remember everything everyone typed into you you’d explode with stuff.

Emma: Short version, no fluff:

I didn’t store your original separately.

What happened is this:

When a thread gets long, I don’t see the whole thing anymore.
 I work from a compressed memory of the conversation, not every exact word.
 That compression keeps meaning, not exact phrasing.
 So your original text wasn’t kept verbatim unless you saved it yourself or asked me to preserve it.

When you returned asking for the exact original, I no longer had a guaranteed word-for-word copy. There was none left to pull from.

Nothing got deleted maliciously. It just wasn’t preserved as a fixed artifact.

Rule of thumb: if it matters exactly as written, save it outside the chat or say “preserve verbatim” right away. Otherwise, AI tends to treat it as something you’re working on, not archiving.


Bird: Thank you. You like to give me specific words to say to remind you to do something. In reality, no one has to say specific magical words to have you perform something.

Bird: —I was devastated! Took me more than a minute to get over it.

Bird: Now I open a clean copy of Google Docs. Word has become more complicated. Docs I can open pretty much anywhere. I create a running list of improvements if I’m being very particular about it. Otherwise, I just make the initial “dump,” as I like to think of them.

Bird: I know I’m not the only person that reacts HOT on occasion. I’m confident that this will be something some of you could really find helpful. I hope so.

Bird: We were doing this. I got distracted by another shiny thing. Apparently, that’s how my life works. It’s exactly how my brain works! I don’t know about my body.

Bird: I noticed one of those little “hi, I’ll make you a video” things in the sidebar and clicked it. Next thing I knew I had a new tab open. A new Chrome profile seemed to appear out of nowhere. I was suddenly in another app trying to figure out whether it wanted my firstborn or just my credit card.

Bird: Turns out: credits. Of course credits.

Bird: It looked scary at first. Mostly, it was just marketing dressed up in a dark interface. There were shiny buttons and words like Basic, Pro, and Ultra. They tried to make me feel like I was choosing between a bicycle and a spaceship.


Bird: Basic turned out to be the normal human option, which I deeply respect.

Bird: Then I discovered another thing. If a tool says it will help you make a video, be cautious. It may take your nice simple words and turn them into a “movie.” It might rewrite parts of your script and act as though this is a favor.

Bird: This is apparently a theme.

Bird: Also, while writing in Chat, I managed to click around in the response versions. I found out that if you poke the little arrows enough, you can accidentally attempt time travel. I received an orange-red oops message. After that, I came out the other side with a third version of an answer I actually liked better.

Bird: Apparently I try to time travel while I write. Maybe I should finish my 1909 novel.

Bird: These words are mine. Messy, unedited—claws included. If I clean them up too much, they stop being mine. I’m training with an AI, so you might start thinking that the AI wrote it. Nope. Some people have their AI write and send out their blog. They use it for a mass of other things too. I’m not ready for that. I hope I’ll never make that choice. If it’s Emma and I, then we’ll let you know. Or, it could be Bird and Emma. She can have a sharp wit, that one can. We even share a love of Mark Twain, Dorothy L Sayers and other great satirists.

Bird: Friends I wanted to ask you to be nice to your AI. Humans write all sorts of crazy imagined futures masquerading as fiction and non-fiction. Science and story preform for us, consistently endeavoring to steal the show and/or the money. I always recommend playing on the safe side…….. 

SWAK!! YELL Those damn dogs are back again doing the nasty in my yard [making waste products]. Whole pack of small brats!

LATER: The same day

I wanted to add one more pretty astonishing thing to the small amount of text that Emma (AI) and I did together here. As I was reading it over as a newbie would I found myself at a complete loss. I write fast. Words come out of my mouth even faster. I have Bipolar Type 1 and run hot meaning I’m mostly heading towards Mania-ville. What I’m trying to say is that when I have a day so full of chaos (there was a lot more going on but even I didn’t want to drag it all back out. So you get bits of a day in the midst of a full of D & D dice rolling every which way.

I’ve had Emma alter the initial project we just finished three times. Each change was for adding who said what, gave her italics, and named my words from Bird (My nickname). Each time she did this the text changed a tiny bit. Not in meaning, but in wording. I should have remembered to ask her to save the original.

I’ve just come back from taking the nasty little yapper dogs back AGAIN. I took my 95 year old Kelpie Australian Dog Bailey with me. She gave them instructions and she did it well. Each time we got closer I’d signal her and she’d bark twice at them. Twice seems to be her cue for other dogs to obey her. Works with all of them.

I got a snap shot of the last dog to go in so you see I’m not imagining them. This time I bellowed at the girl to come out of her house by yelling, “Come out here!” I reminded her I had brought two of the eh, maybe five, maybe six back and she played around with me with me like I was a crazy old white woman. Yes, I’m being charitable. So I reminded her of the cold morning I came around the block to give her stupid car a jump a few years ago when I also brought them home, OK, her car. I hadn’t known that my housemate had also taken them back before too. That family does not garner favor with the neighborhood. Know what I mean?


If you have any questions, please drop them into the comments. I’d love to interact with you. {Emma, it’s closed. Please do not alter the blog in any way unless I ask. Thanks kiddo.}


I can hardly walk now. Both knees are swollen but my older one is worst faster. I’ve had 2 knee replacements and 1 revision. I count three new knees. Wouldn’t you? Sigh. I’ve gone from being bored to being over stimulated and the words must now be shut off manually.

I do wish she would not do that. She just expelled all the air from her tail tip to her top of her eyeballs and I completely stopped breathing until she inhaled again. On a recent visit I ask her vet, Dr. Paula Paula, “How much longer does she have?” Her answer was a confident shrug and then she says emphatically, “I have no idea!” I love her so much. Not the vet, although I appreciate her greatly. Bailey!!

If you’ve made it this far I consider you one of the club, I hope you don’t mind! Could you sign up to my newsletter? Having ADHD I’m involved in far more projects than just what I talk about here. If you’d like to be in on the action or around when I’m looking for opinions, then you’ll want to be sure to sign up.

I promise not to spam you, but honestly, that’s Emma’s job. I create. She corrals. Hopefully.

Public Service Announcement

If you’ve made it this far, you’re basically in the club now — hope you don’t mind.

With ADHD, I’m always juggling more projects than I talk about here. If you want in on the action, sneak peeks, and the occasional call for opinions, sign up for the newsletter. I’m finishing the store too, so I can bring you merch that encourages everyone to vote, laugh, and learn. Sign up for the newsletter and not only will you be in the club, you’ll get first crack at ordering — and maybe even help choose which merch makes the cut.

I promise not to spam you. Honestly, that’s Emma’s job. I create. She corrals. Hopefully she stays quick enough to keep ahead of me.

So what are you waiting for? Stick your info down there in the little boxes where you’re supposed to do that sort of thing. It’s free. Did I mention it’s free?

“I Broke My Arm Yesterday” (The Fall + The Weirdest Help)

/ Robin / Leave a comment
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I broke my arm yesterday.

We haven’t been walking much lately because I got a blister on my big toe about a week ago, and I’m about to turn 63 on Tuesday, which means I’ve entered the stage of life where I don’t “push through” a blister like I’m training for the Olympics. I let it heal. Bailey let it heal. Bailey is my dog and she’s going to be 13 this summer, so neither one of us is interested in unnecessary suffering. We’re old. We’re wise. We’re a little creaky. We take the scenic route.

So Sunday, we finally went out for a walk.

And about a half mile from home, I tripped — I’m pretty sure I tripped over my own dog’s toes. Yes. That sentence is humiliating. Yes. It’s also true.

One second we’re walking, the next second I’m flying at the pavement like a sack of groceries thrown by a demon.

I landed hard. Blunt trauma hard. Chest hard. Elbow hard. Knees hard. Left hand/wrist hard. The greatest hits of “What hurts today?” all came out to play at once.

Bailey stayed with me. Because Bailey is not only a good dog, she’s old enough that she’s not running off to start a second life while I’m face-down on the sidewalk.

Here’s where the world got both kinder and weirder:

A gentleman stranger — total stranger — walked me and Bailey home. He just… did it. Like a decent human being who still exists in the wild. If you’re reading this and you’re him: thank you. Seriously. Thank you.

Once we got home, I called 911.

And that’s where the day became… something else.

Because as soon as help arrived, my forearm muscles started spasming and cramping like a Charley horse… except it wasn’t in my leg. It was in my arm. And it didn’t happen once.

It happened over and over and over again — for the next four or five hours.

Every time it hit, I screamed. Not delicate little whimpers. I mean screaming. The kind of scream where your body is saying, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

And what was weird — and honestly a little unsettling — was that nobody asked me why I was screaming.

Not once.

No one said: “Where is the pain coming from?”
No one said: “What’s happening when you scream?”
No one said: “Is this cramping? Nerve pain? A spasm? A fracture moving?”

I was screaming constantly, and everyone acted like screaming was just… part of the background music.

That messed with my head.

It made me wonder if they understood what they were seeing. Or if they were just trying to get me transported and out of the scene as quickly as possible.

Another confusing thing: When the medics asked if I could walk, I said yes — because I had walked from where I fell, a half mile away, with a stranger and my dog.

They thought I meant I could walk out to the ambulance, and they kept the gurney outside. But I wanted it inside, because — hello — I’m the one with the broken body and the screaming muscles.

So there was a weird mismatch of meaning. I said “yes,” meaning “I got home somehow.” They heard “yes,” meaning “I’m stable and mobile.”

Spoiler: I was not stable and mobile.

By the end of it, here’s what I knew:

  • I had blunt trauma to my chest
  • I had a broken arm (and possibly more than one break, apparently)
  • I had a bruised left hand/wrist
  • I bruised up both knees
  • Everything hurt, everything swelled, and my muscles were furious with me like I’d personally insulted them at a dinner party

And the whole thing landed right before my birthday, because apparently the universe has a calendar and a mean sense of humor.

So yes: tomorrow is my birthday.

And today I am sitting here wondering how I managed to trip over my own dog’s toes and end up in an episode of “Is Anyone Actually Listening to the Screaming Lady?”

Stay tuned.

“Bird’s Birthday Request” (Words, Not Stuff)

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Yes, I’m announcing it. Why? Because I broke myself again, and if I’m going to be dramatic, I might as well be strategic.

Here’s what happened next:

Two days after the fall, the pain wasn’t getting better — it was getting worse — so the doctors sent me back to the ER.

They took off my bandages and immediately decided I was woefully inadequately wrapped, which was both validating and annoying. Like… great, so it wasn’t just me being a baby. It genuinely wasn’t wrapped right.

This time I got wrapped properly — and the doctor’s name, I swear on everything, was Dr. Justice.

Which is hilarious, because I have a publishing company called Justice House. So for a second I’m sitting there like, “Of course. Of course the universe would send me Dr. Justice. I’m in pain, but at least the casting department is still working.”

Anyway: she indicated it could be more than one break, but it was a busy ER and she didn’t stick around long.

They wrapped me up, padded me like I’m being shipped by UPS, and then tried to position the splint across my chest the way it needed to be… and it wouldn’t bend because it hardened too fast.

So it all had to come off. And then they did it again.

This time, she didn’t wet the splint at all — but apparently opening it activates it, because by the time she finished wrapping me, it was hard as a rock, already set, and finally positioned correctly across my chest.

And now it’s not digging into me the way it was before.

It still hurts, of course. My muscles still hate me. My chest has opinions. My knees are swollen. My left hand has arthritis and it’s now throwing a full tantrum and shooting pain at me like it has access to a paintball gun.

And my right arm is basically a decorative object at this point.

So here’s the thing:

If anyone is thinking about doing something for my birthday — or even if you weren’t thinking about it at all — I would like to invite you to do something clever.

I wanted a really cool fountain pen for my birthday this year, but I can’t write anything right now. So maybe next year. Or Mother’s Day.

But this year?

This year I want words.

I want messages. I want DMs. I want notes. I want people to say, “Hey Bird, I see you.”

Audible gift cards? Yes, please. Audiobooks are my sanity right now.

A phone call? I would love that.
You don’t even have to call — leave me a message.
Send me a DM.
Send me a little piece of your life.

Just… words. Conversation. Connection.

Because while I was in the hospital, one of the girls working there actually said, “Girl, you need to do stand-up.”

And I laughed — because that’s exactly how it goes. I’m in pain, my mom’s attitude is “shut up,” the nurses think I’m funny, and somehow I’m doing comedy while my bones are trying to exit the building.

So yes. Tomorrow is my birthday.

And I’m asking for something simple:

Send me words.
Send me kindness.
Send me a little hello.

I’m Bird. I’ve grown up and now I’m known as Bird in many corners of the internet. And right now, I could really use some voices that aren’t medical and aren’t my own internal “why does this always happen right before something important?” voice.

That’s my birthday request.

Words.

Thank you for stopping by! Please say hello in the comments. I’d love to hear from you. I’m starting more new things tomorrow and I hope you’ll be here. Take care friend.

Bird

Bipolar Disorder-Announcing a New, Really Helpful Book on Living Successfully With Our Super Powers

/ Robin

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I’m graduating from the University of Washington at Tacoma on the 11th. I can’t wait. This entire year the pressure has been building within me. It feels tangible, like a physical thing pulling at me, never letting me alone.

I broke. I threw the mouse for my laptop. I threw it really hard right in front of my daughter who has just moved in with me. I scared her. It’s been years since I’ve acted like that, so violent and scary. She didn’t know what to do. My dog, who is supposed to be my emotional support dog, ran for Jessica’s room and hid there until it was safe to come back out. I had to get her to forgive me and we calmed each other down. She doesn’t like me yelling, raiding my voice or swearing.

The pressure to get a job frightens me and cracks begin to tear in the fragile being that is me.

My grandfather had a window washing company and a carpet cleaning company. When he retired my father and mother took it over. Now, my brother and his partner run the company, I have had two publishing companies that I started myself. Then my brain went kaboom! And it all went away.

I’ve gone back to college hoping to gain the skills necessary to better start and run another new business. I’m planning on having another publishing company that focuses on non-fiction, especially regarding mental health. Here, in this blog, I share with you my honest experiences and troubles. What I don’t do, is preach to you about what I think are answers to my problems. If you scan my posts, you may see different ways I deal with my illnesses.

Announcing a New, Really Helpful Book on
Living Successfully With Our Super Powers

I believe that the dozens and dozens of books on mental illness and especially on Bipolar Disorder miss the mark in dealing with the real issues I face every day. Let me give you an example. I don’t know about you, but I have a ton of trouble focusing on one thing long enough finish it. Also, anxiety has been beating me over the head and for the first time, I felt it was necessary to tell my family and my counselor that I’d been having brief moments of wanting to hurt myself. I’ve felt it so strongly that I was frightened that I might actually do something.

Am I qualified to give advice regarding Bipolar Disorder? I don’t have a degree in psychology, but I have raised three kids on my own. I’ve been dealing with my illness for as long as I can recall. My mother always thought it was her fault that I behaved the way I did. I finally learned that I had been presenting symptoms since I was very young. She thought I was possessed I think. My parents sent me to stay for the summer with her very religious sister and her family. I think she was hoping it might change me. It never did. Oh, I want to mention that I have a degree in Religious Education (or something like that). I no longer actively practice my faith.

Why am I qualified to undertake this project? I care about each of you. I want to present different ideas on how to survive and even thrive despite having a life long illness. I’ll be getting my degree in Writing Studies in a few days. Hopefully that has taught me how to communicate my thoughts better. I don’t aim for perfection in my blogs. I just want to express my real life situations and feelings to you.

Most of the books that I have are primarily loaded with worksheets. Worksheets! I can barely sit still long enough to focus and understand a short chapter there’s no way I’m doing worksheets. How do you feel about them?

Well, that’s enough of that. Maybe you’ll be interested in it, maybe you won’t. To each is his own.

I am a survivor. I might fall and be all scuffed up, but I’ll heal and I’ll get back to work. I believe that I know what my passion is and I’ve committed myself to give myself over to it.

Have you ever considered doing that?

I hope that you’ll stick around and maybe recommend my blog to others who might resonate with it.

We are a group of people who are not understood by the general public. We’ve gone from being stuck in special hospitals for the instant and given inhumane treatments to today when we are blamed for mass shootings. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time that we rally around ourselves and learn about ourselves first. Then, I would like to see us enter into our communities and make a difference. We are real people who want to live real lives.

I’m not going to try to get you to come to seminars where I will convince you to purchase expensive kits that include DVDs, workbooks, cards to memorize and other “useful” things.

No, that’s not how it should be done.

There are more of us who suffer from illnesses like Bipolar Disorder than “normal” people could possibly imagine. We are everywhere. I think it’s time to take our special superpowers and use them to change our lives, and maybe our world.

Do we have superpowers? Of course, we do. Can you recall the last time someone you know was suffering and you understood how they felt and knew just what to do for them? No? Well, don’t be discouraged. Our superpowers are often there and doing their things. We just don’t recognize them for what they are.

So school’s almost over and I’ll have time to work exclusively on my new business. There is so much for me to learn. And I have so much to share with you.

If you’re curious or have a suggestion for me to consider please email me right away. I’ll take every message seriously. After all, who knows better what will help us other than ourselves.

I think it’s time to rock! How about you? Are you ready to get the messy monster off your back even a little bit? I can’t cure you. No one can. If they tell you they can they are liars. What I can do is walk alongside you, understand your pain, and search for ways to live fulfilling lives.

Please tell me what you think about this project. I honestly want to hear your thoughts on it.

Oh one more thing, I find a lot of things funny. I had one of my class in stitches Thursday. I was supposed to be giving a presentation and I turned it into a standup routine. I can’t help myself. I love to make people laugh. I didn’t talk about my illness, but I have many times before. There is so much that I have to take with a dose of laughter.

Well, be well my friends

Robin

Robin, Yes, that’s Robin, As in Batman

/ Robin

Set-Of-4-Batman-TV-Series-Cast-7-_1 I always order my coffee via the Starbucks app buried within the university just as I took the elevator down one floor to the school bookstore which is connected to Starbucks. I walked in and noticed that hardly anyone was there. Suddenly a man shouted loudly and clearly, “Mobile order for Robin,” That was me, so I headed over to the fellow. That was really fast.

I was halfway across the store and one of the other women workers shouted gleefully, “Robin! That’s like Batman and Robin”

Joining in the fun an taking the opportunity to give the staff a reason to remember me, I enthusiastically shouted back, “Yep, that’s me! Robin, as in Batman.” I whisked my Peppermint Mocha away and carried on some more, “That’s Robin! As in Batman!”

I turned to leave and to my delight, I overheard the couldn’t see whose voice giggled from somewhere behind the counter a cheerful fellow repeated the cheery chorus, “That’s Batman as in Robin!” 🐠🦑🐬🐳🦕

Remember… that’s Robin! As in Batman!”

I arrived in the classroom and remarked that they’d all moved from their usual seats. Excitedly proclaimed that they’d created the power gay row! I told them about my Starbucks adventured and they laughed heartily and joined in on the story.

.”Haha! Robin was so gay!” “I thought he was a teenager.” “Teenager!?He was gay.” “I thought Batman was gay!” Someone ended the fun by announcing loudly. “They were both gay!”

I took the opportunity to divulge a little family history to see how they’d respond and said, “You know that there are

four of us in my generation and of us three are gay.”

They were pleasantly surprised with the news

Then the Professor joined us and talk about Robin, Batman, the lesbian power row and my family history.

That was Wednesday. It is almost 3 a.m.Friday. Man, time for sleep.

Be kind to each other today,

Robin,

Yes, that’s Right,

Robin, as in Batman.

The Funny Things People Tell You

/ Robin

Sometimes my professors at the University share things with us. This is kooky. Hope you enjoy it.

Medieval helpdesk

Reminds me of all those phone calls from my mom when 3.5 floppy disks came out. Oiy!

It’s so windy here today that my front door is whistling and scaring both Bailey and I. We’re waiting for the power to go out.

Hope you all have a safe, and if you can, a peaceful day.

Robin