Fewer things I like better than metaphors, turning them inside out and upside down to discover what lies in the mix. In all of its intelligence, my Mac dictation finds contradictions nearly impossible, or perhaps it is my writing of them.
I give my Artificial Intelligence (AI) pause, and sometimes, a pause turns into a refusal, signaled by a blinking cursor that will not budge until I change my words.
If I insist on such a sentence, it is mine to type each word, and for me that means one letter at a time, rather than watching the effortless flow of words spread across my screen.
In stubbornness, I find each key, determined to look upon the sentence that defies the logic of AI.
I am not seduced–easily.
I have yet to meet a metaphor I will not try so we soldier on, AI and I, a cursor and blank screen our daily battlefield.
I like to think we learn from each other, as it does seem AI gives in occasionally, a sentence once unacceptable appears exactly as spoken and without hesitation. Maybe I am the one who is being trained.
All AI is asking of me is that I speak with precision, preferably in complete sentences but fragments are allowed in certain contexts. It is its own kind of mindfulness.
Which I have found in my human conversations as well. Regrettably, I am not more thoughtful but I am acutely aware of my impatience in getting something said. That has always bothered AI, too.