From the annals of the “Thoughts that have been thunk many times before but are still sometimes good to think again” archives, I found this idea useful today:
When it comes to creativity, you can do anything if you don’t care if it’s perfect.
I found a picture that I drew of a dragon, lo those many years ago.
Dragon, by J.R. Johnson
Being the curious sort, I decided to see if AI was worth its salt by (obviously) uploading the image and asking it to animate said dragon.
I hoped for something cute and silly.
(Well, actually, what I expected was for it to say, “Are you kidding, lady? And also, You call that a dragon? I could do better than that while managing air traffic control for LAX! Who drew this thing, a toddler?” Yes, more or less. No need to be mean about it.)
What I got was a canned reply on how to animate, plus this:
Dragon, by Bing’s AI. Showoff.
So, not my dragon and not an animation. Just a lot of “Ooh, look at me,” with a heaping dose of computerized side-eye.
Today is Giving Tuesday, which is a reminder for me to support groups doing good work on issues I care about. For me, that usually means local animal charities like the one that rescues neighborhood kittens, food banks (for people and animals), and other groups that help people who need it. If you’re able to donate but aren’t quite sure where to start, this article might help:
Cash is always helpful, of course, but donations can also be goods, time, service or support. And while I can’t save every kitten or cure every cataract or buy every child a book or feed every family, I can join others who care about those issues to help the groups who do.
And that’s what I call a good day.
“I’m convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they’re stones that don’t matter. As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good.”
— Maya Angelou
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Obligatory picture of ridiculously cute kittens! Photo by The Lucky Neko on Unsplash
Here’s the thing: My default recipe is a little complicated.
I don’t mean that in a bad way, but in a creative sort of way. The truth is, the recipe for this soup is straightforward. Here, I’ll lay it out for you:
mushrooms, lots
chicken stock, lots
sherry, ehhhh, fine, lots
soy sauce and pepper
beurre manie, more than seems reasonable (I usually use this much: 224g butter, 144g flour)
also but optional: onions, garlic, herbs
The devil is, of course, in the details. I wrote out the whole recipe and discovered two things.
One, I have a hard time doing a thing the easy way. Well, that’s not entirely true. I tend to take a recipe, strip it down to the basics, then build it back up again so that it has what I consider the essentials of taste and texture. This leads to a basic recipe with many, many caveats.
And two, my memory for little things like quantities is not great. Both of these factors are further complicated by the fact that I never quite make a recipe the same way, and the point is to hand this off to people who want it to taste the way it did at a certain time (2023) and place (the wilds of northern Ontario).
My mom sent me this quote and while I haven’t found a reliable attribution, it’s been around for years. So it’s not new, but it does capture my feelings about so much.
I want a simple life. I want to get up late, drink tea, and read old books. I also want a spaceship and a pet dragon.
Yeah, so, it’s like this. Yesterday, Mr Man and I decided that time is fluid and also history is a human construct and why not just do Thanksgiving dinner on Friday?
So forget what the calendars say, tonight is Thanksgiving.
And also, why is it that any time a recipe says something like “Stir constantly to reduce by 50%, or approximately half an hour,” it always ends up taking at least twice the time? Seventy-five minutes, in this case. Now I’m a little cooked from all the stove time and very behind on my schedule, but at least I don’t have to caramelize any onions.
One thing about unfinished or trunked speculative fiction stories is that sometimes, they come true.
My work covers a lot of territory, including near-future science fiction. The problem with that is the ever-evolving definition of “near.”
With today’s innovation landscape, it often doesn’t take very long for a speculative future to become an everyday present. I ran across a story draft from six or seven years ago, and realized that the subject was no longer fiction.
Now it’s just life.
What’s the lesson? In this case, I trunked the story because it wasn’t quite working, but in general? Focus on finishing, and submit to markets with short turnaround times.
“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.”
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