#Or “what about [some arbitrary unconnected thing that I clearly did not mention in this post]” I am going to flip my shit

[glareandgrowl]

I need to stop subjecting myself to people who aren't artists' opinions on ai art because I am going to eat a whole fucking shoe with how absolutely livid I am right now.

Ill just say this, I guess before I explode.

No one. And I mean NO ONE is giving shit to people who want to create those deep fake Garfield memes or silly images of celebrities running from cryptids in the dark. NO ONE IS CARING ABOUT THAT KIND OF UNSERIOUS USAGE!

If your argument for pro-ai includes that type of usage AND you aren't an artist? I will bite your fucking kneecaps.

THE PROBLEM is corporations and individuals who are using ai to scrape and crush other people's HARD WORK HOURS OF EFFORT AND YEARS OF PRACTICE into a single shitty shitty image so they can pretend they're a big great artist or feel special for the attention OR so they can skim a little drop of cash instead of paying someone to do it.

I feel like I'm going fucking insane.

Also people know ai banks aren't static.. right? Like you know that the big ones are scraping every bit they can from the internet every single day. It's not like they've settled on just a years worth of theft. YOU KNOW THIS RIGHT??

ITS A CONSTANT FUCKING STRUGGLE TO KEEP OUR WORK SAFE YOU KNOW THIS RIGHT????

[andrewducker]

One of the ways in which my brain seems to be different to other people's is that I find it much harder to learn a new thing to start with, and then much easier to end with.

Which is to say that if you ask me to remember a group of unconnected facts then absolutely none of them will sink in, and I will stare blankly at any tasks connected with it, unable to work out how to carry them out.

But once I work out *how* they are connected, and what the underlying system connecting them is, I then seem to be much more able to understand that system, and how to make it do things that others struggle with.

And so, for instance, I am terrible with names. Because names are a random collection of sounds with no meaning that connects them to a person, and so there's no way to connect the name to the person in my head. I just have to hear the name about 30 times before it finally sticks. (Or in the case of someone I've known, liked, and worked with for years up until 6 months ago, and then bumped into randomly at a bus stop I had to scroll back for months through WhatsApp messages until I found them.)

Or to give a more technical example - some people can memories 5 or 6 commands that they use all the time with Git, and then just churn them out when they need to use the particular piece of functionality they wanted. I absolutely cannot do that. I had to go and read multiple different explanations for what was happening under the surface until I understand what it was actually doing. And then making it do things was pretty trivial, I just had to find the command that would make it do what it was clearly designed to do.

There are clearly people out there like me, because otherwise people wouldn't be writing explanations aimed at, well, people like me. But I've never met anyone who's talked about thinking in that way. Which is a shame, because it used to stress me out a lot whenever I started learning anything new. I'd sit there in the class wondering how everyone was memorising all of these things, and feeling like I was an idiot who was never going to understand any of it, feeling horribly stressed that I would be found out. And then at some point it would click, and I'd whoosh ahead to doing better than everyone else. Except for those things that never clicked, of course.

One of the things that clicked with me very late was...people. And, specifically, myself. Which, I assume, is strongly connected to my autism. Lots of people seem to just memorise 753 arbitrary social rules and follow them. As I may have mentioned a few times above, I suck at that.

And so for a lot of my youth I felt like the world in general was a whirling cyclone of chaos. Things would happen, but not only did they make very little sense to me, I fundamentally didn't believe that sense could be made of them. I'd deal with the outside world enough to get what I needed, or when I was forced into it. And then I'd retreat back to the safety of a book, or a game - something which made sense, where you could tell why things were happening. Where, in the case of roleplaying games and computer games, there were nice hard rules about how the world worked, and what you could and couldn't do, and it was easy to understand wht was going on.

But at some point in my 20s, a collection of varying things I'd read over the previous decade started gluing themselves together into what you might call a theory of people. (There's absolutely no point me recommending any of them to other people, they're mostly wrong, out of date, or filled in gaps specific to me.)

The theory wasn't very good, it was full of stereotypes, and misapprehensions, and I doubt that more than a small percentage of it has survived to now. But once I had *a* theory of people, the world was no longer chaos - it was a thing I could examine, and make predictions about, and then take feedback from back to my theories when the predictions turned out to be badly wrong. It was something I could discuss, and argue about, and finesse whenever I had someone point out what utter nonsense I was talking. Until it became something which seems to work reasonably well most of the time (although I'm sure there is still wrongness lurking within).

However, even more than allowing me to understand the outside world, it made a massive difference to my understanding of *me*. At some point I realised that if my theories about people and how they acted were any good then they would also apply to me. And I changed from feeling like a being standing on the outside, observing to feeling like an inextricable part of what surrounded me. The change was so huge, internally, that I literally cannot explain what I was thinking before this point. In many ways it feels like I was not. I was reactive, and acting moment to moment, but I wasn't a mindful person making plans in the world to achieve things. My whole kind of consciousness changed, and the me from after that point can't make his thoughts fit inside the mind of the me from before that point - the two minds are such very different shapes. I have memories, but they're very much third-person "Here's what happened to that guy" type of memories.

Not that it was a single moment. I remember there being a period of at least a year, maybe longer, in my late 20s where I had a series of epiphanies. Not that any of them are that exciting, or that I have a good memory of any of them now - but there were so many moments where I realised that things that I believed just didn't match up with how the world actually was. Where it suddenly felt like the world fitted together in a different way to how it had a few moments before. It felt like I was working the kinks out of the tangled wires that made up my thought processes. And the mind at the end of that period felt quite different on the inside to the mind beforehand.

Which isn't to say that I haven't continued to find errors in my thinking - there was a very useful year of counselling I went through in my early thirties that helped me sort out a lot of things I was still carrying around. But it's (mostly) been a much smoother process since that point, and I can still put myself back in my shoes from anywhere past that point, and imagine what I was thinking, even if it was regularly something pretty stupid. It hasn't up-ended my world in quite the same way.

And, having had the recent autism diagnosis, I realised that this was something I'd just never talked about with anyone. Because it never seemed like it would be a useful thing to share, that it wouldn't connect with others at all. But I thought I'd give it a go, and see if it at least made sense to me when written down. And if it did, whether it made sense to anyone else.