Oh look, life got busy.
What a surprise.
Or perhaps the excitement and newness of AI has waned, and it’s just another tool in the toolbox, considered with skepticism. I use AI so much for work now I sometimes wonder if I can still form a thought of my own, still write a sentence of my own. Perhaps this blog is becoming an exercise in that. Writing a sentence of my own that came from a thought of my own.
Strange how it can sound random, incoherent, like it lost the plot before it even formed.
You’d like a writer who spends the majority of their time thinking and writing in prompts would be able to prompt themselves into a good story or blog post.
My mind does not seem to work that way. At least not tonight while writing this.
There’s something whimsy about free writing now. Like there isn’t a direction, there is a task to complete, a concept to explain, API references to check. It’s just…random thoughts. Typing whatever comes into your head. Typing whatever words come into your head. Even if they don’t form a complete thought.
Whimsy.
Whimsical.
Whimsy cattle dog
Seems like there is little of that these days. Except for my dog. He’s all about whimsy. His whole life is whimsy. There was a time where that wasn’t true. Or maybe I didn’t see it as whimsy at the time. Raising a puppy, a reactive puppy, during a pandemic, is no easy task. I may have mistaken some of his mannerisms as not the whimsical mannerisms they were.
I did celebrate the little things.
Now, though, I can see the whimsy. I try to emulate the whimsy, with varying degrees of success.
He’s gotten very into tug lately.
I had a rule where, as long as I was not on a call and he brought me a toy, then we would go outside in the backyard and play. That often turned into him tricking me to go outside while he promptly laid down in the sun. See? Whimsy. Now he likes to bring me a toy, a squeaky toy, taunt me with it, race towards the backyard, stop to make sure I’m following, then run a lap around the backyard and body slam me, and squeak the toy to demand we play tug.
I have since learned that body slams are the love language of Australian Cattle Dogs. He’s an ACD mix, but cattle dog is his dominate breed, so body slams are expected.
I used to get frustrated, but now that I understand his breed makeup, I’m less frustrated. He’s just being himself. Whimsy. It’s really hard not to smile when he comes into the room, does a big stretch, or bumps me for pets.
That seems like a decent sentence to end on for this post.