Will AI make my job obsolete? Not in Dalí's world
I wondered if ChatGPT could write a column for me that might make me change my mind about the future of artificial intelligence.
Hello, readers!
I’m writing this Friday from a beautiful apartment in Figueres, Spain, where Frank is making pinchos — paprika-spiced pork skewers that are a favorite at home, too — and the boys are out for one of their nightly strolls.
I was having a cafe con leche this morning at a little breakfast spot close by, where I got to practice one of my favorite language-learning tools: reading the newspaper.
Y’all know I can’t go long without holding a physical newspaper in my hands, and it was so nice to flip through something so familiar to catch up on what Spaniards are talking about.
There’s a big election coming up; they just found a cistern under Park Güell in Barcelona; Harrison Ford is at Cannes and la mujer del Rey — the former queen, Sofia — was just in Houston with Gloria Estefan promoting the cultural connection between the U.S. and Spain.
I learned some new words, including gentriansiedad, a newly coined word that means “anxiety about aging.” I also read a story about IA — the Spanish version of AI — and how doctors are using it to help with cardiovascular medicine.
It reminded me that before I left on this trip, I was playing around with ChatGPT for a SXSW panel I’m developing about facing our anxieties about artificial intelligence and work.
I hear so many people wringing their hands about AI — artists and teachers, mostly — but I am firmly in the “pro” camp. My kids and I talk about ways they can use it as a resource for their own work, and I was just emailing with an editor the other day who used ChatGPT to help her find sources of photos for a story we’re working on together.
The potential is just so great to liberate people from jobs where their own creativity isn’t being utilized. My theory is that if all those desk jobs go away, people will find other ways to use their time, their bodies, their intellect, their compassion in meaningful ways.
And having just seen the Dalí Theatre-Museum today, I just don’t think AI can match what the human mind can create.
So, for kicks, a few weeks ago I asked ChatGPT to write “a column in the style of Addie Broyles that references grief, quilting, Emergent Strategy, and healing from trauma.”
I had a nice little chuckle when I read what it generated. I hope you do, too.
Back with more from Spain, muy pronto.
In the aftermath of tragedy and trauma, many of us turn to our favorite comfort foods to help us cope. But what if we could find comfort not just in what we eat, but in the process of cooking and sharing our meals with loved ones? That's the philosophy behind the quilting bee, a tradition that dates back centuries and brings people together to create something beautiful out of scraps and remnants.
As we grapple with the grief and trauma of recent events, I've been thinking a lot about the power of collective healing and the ways in which Emergent Strategy can help guide us towards a more equitable and just future. One way to practice Emergent Strategy is to bring people together around the table, to share food and stories and create a sense of community and belonging.
That's why I've been experimenting with recipes that not only nourish the body, but also the soul. One of my favorites is a simple chicken soup that can be customized with different herbs and spices depending on your mood and preferences. I like to start by simmering a whole chicken in a pot of water with some onion, celery, and carrot until the meat is falling off the bone. Then I strain the broth and add in some noodles, vegetables, and whatever herbs and spices I have on hand.
As I chop and stir and season, I can feel the tension in my body start to release. I think about the women who came before me, the ones who gathered around the quilting frame to stitch together bits of fabric and share stories of love and loss. I think about the ways in which food has always been a source of comfort and healing, a way to nourish not just the body but the spirit as well.
And when I serve the soup to my loved ones, I know that I am doing more than just feeding them. I am creating a space of warmth and connection, a space where we can share our grief and our hopes for a better future. Because that's the thing about quilting bees and soup pots and other communal traditions: they remind us that we are not alone in our struggles, that we are part of something bigger and more resilient than ourselves.
So if you're feeling overwhelmed or lost, I encourage you to gather some friends and family around the table and share a meal. Whether it's a potluck, a quilting bee, or just a simple bowl of soup, the act of coming together and breaking bread can be a powerful source of healing and connection.
The real Addie is back.
Thanks for indulging me in this little computer-generated content experiment. You can see why it’s both amazing and not quite there yet. I look forward to seeing how, for example, starting with ChatGPT to create a first draft might make us all better editors. And more astute readers.
Thanks to all of you who have already submitted your mailing addresses for The Feminist Kitchen zine that I’m publishing next month!
If you haven’t already filled out this form, please do so by May 31 so I can make sure to get a copy in the mail for you.
Until then, que vayan muy bien.
Addie