Sanna. Aries. Born 1993. Asexual. Autistic. Demigirl/Genderflux. Swedish. Artist, writer and has a degree in game design. Nocturnal courier. Has something to do with foxes.
I was being cancelled because apparently it was classist to put feathers on dinosaurs.
Both dream me and irl me were very confused.
it might have been a dream, but feathered dinosaurs being linked to an ideology isn’t that uncommon. Them being viewed as “leftist”, “woke” or “gay” has occured several times.
I collect these examples.
reblog if you like dinosaurs, are gay, or just really like feathers
If you ever think that you’re overdoing Bruce Wayne’s helicopter dad tendencies, just remember that after he fired Dick from being Robin and Dick took off to tour with the circus for awhile without telling him, that Bruce sent Deadman to spy on him and report back. NOBODY is doing helicopter parenting like Bruce is doing it.
“Oh yeah, Babs and Tim are the computer geniuses,” any one of the other Batkids say as they hack into the Pentagon for the third time that week.
“Oh yeah, Dick’s the nice, happy one,” one of the other Batkids say while Nightwing walks off whistling from where he left fourteen assassins unconscious and bleeding in an alley.
Someone I respect and consider an intelligent, capable scholar has just told me that she uses chatGPT to write parts of grant proposals, and suggested that I do the same. This is like existentially horrifying.
Not only because chatGPT has gotten that good that fast, not only because it means most of the jobs I’m qualified for will be nonexistent or much diminished in a few years, but because this is saying the quiet part out loud. That the things we’ve been writing were always mostly bullshit and never really mattered. That grant proposals were always just about gabbling out the correct buzzwords, and so were conference abstracts and grad school applications. That this goes beyond academia. That both the public and the private sector is employing huge crowds of people to write meaningless text. That my inability to care about my work is not wholly a personal failure, that nobody cares, that nobody has cared for a long time, that people value their own work so little (or are forced to value their work so little, through impossible time pressure) that they would happily replace it with a passable okayish replica.
I’m not a great writer, and when I’m on here, writing inconsequentially, for my own enjoyment, I am often thoughtless. But writing is still my self. And I think anything that goes out into the world as written word has a value, it is important, and the writer is responsible for it. Of course I’m a nervous wreck who is paralysed by the thought of writing anything for publication, or even to be read by anyone else irl, and that’s not healthy either. But I can’t handle the idea of people not caring for their own writing at all. I am disgusted by the idea that we can just push a button to make soulless shit pseudotext, and it won’t even be that much of a change because we already had been making soulless shit pseudotext anyway, not caring, or not being allowed to care.
I feel a very similar way, working as a software developer, discovering my coworkers had begun using that thing to write technical documentation for our clients.
I have technical skills, I’m a programmer, but my communication skills are the ones that have set me apart my whole career. I choose my words carefully, I communicate concisely and with a great deal of specificity. Everything I wrote for the last six years was polished to ensure anyone could understand exactly what I had built and why.
And they didn’t care.
They never cared.
If they can replace that work, that pride, with verisimilitudinous word salad then what was the fucking point of taking it seriously.
This is just another extension of asshole salesmen controlling all the levers of power, the depreciation of real skill in favour of confidence trickster scamming is at an all time high.
If they can replace that work, that pride, with verisimilitudinous word
salad then what was the fucking point of taking it seriously.
Absolutely. There is a problem of “oh shit, this robot can do my job better than me,” but most of us are not having that problem quite yet, we are having the problem of “this robot can do my job in a barely passable dogshit way, but it turns out that a barely passable dogshit was all that was ever expected of me, and if somebody or something can produce barely passable dogshit faster and cheaper, then they will.”
Damian: These colors for Robin are terrible. I simply refuse to believe father chose red, yellow, and green to hide in the night. The tactical planning behind this suit is abhorrent. Who in the world picked it?
Tim: *not even glancing up* Dick.
Damian: These are exemplary colors, truly no one could have chosen better. Red to represent passion, yellow for happiness, and green for new beginnings- as expected of Grayson, only he could come up with such a brilliant and thoughtful design. Not to mention, it’s a test in blending into your surroundings despite your attire which is extremely useful in the field for other missions. Marvelous planning and insight.
