Because I Don’t Have ChatGPT
after Maria Giesbrecht
Every day I take the scenic route through my own human brain, making decisions about dinner and composing emails the old fashioned way. I drive to Costco with a grocery list scribbled on a piece of paper, only to realize when I get home that I forgot to buy almond milk. (This is the price I pay for an un-optimized life.) My husband teases me, tells me I’ll be left behind. But I like it here, I tease back, my mind whirling and twirling and thinking thinky thoughts. Call me crazy, but I love using my big, dumb brain. I love blowing the whistle, calling out reps, give me twenty more! I love stretching it like a rubber band—wider and wider—seeing how far I can pull before it snaps. Robot enthusiasts tell me I could be more efficient. Don’t they know productivity is a drug I’m trying to quit?