This morning, a local pastor was sharing a reference to Clive James' Substack titled "Diary of a Failed Comedian." Part of the pastor's application was about how hungry we all are for various versions of "likes," via social media or other venues.
That got me thinking of the previous pandemic-era blog that I maintained for about two years with over 100 posts. To borrow a line from a famous western, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." I think some posts were good and some where duds, and I might have helped or encouraged a few people in the process. In a reckless moment of resignation as the cha-cha of my high school teaching routine returned to "normal" levels of busyness, I deleted the blog and didn't save all of my posts. Did that action make me a failed blogger, I wonder?
In my current semi-retirement stage of life, I wonder about endeavors to write and to teach writing. I entertain related questions everyday, and I've kept plenty of related notes, drafts, and half-formed essays for myself. I've often drafted something to post related to topics I've been discussing, reading about, musing over, and/or teaching. It seems that not a day goes by without some sort of AI discussion emerging, ranging from utopian promises to dystopian threats.
As part of a growing collection with connections between AI and education, I was just reading Pierce Taylor Hibbs' Substack article on "Why AI Can Never Fully Replace Human Writers." I especially appreciate Hibbs' assertion that AI can never fully replace human writers because writing requires choice, responsibility, and trust. Indeed!
There's something about this struggle over bothering to write that plays an important part of truly being human, whether thinking about posting something on a blog or deciding what to put on tomorrow's to-do list. With Hibbs and others in mind, I suppose I'm exercising my humanity right now in several ways, doing what AI can't actually do.
So, here are some thoughts (from me and others) about the related question: Why write if nobody will read it?
- To find out what I think: How do I know what I think until I see what I have to say?
- Because if it is worth doing, it is worth doing poorly!
- To reframe my thinking.
- To pretend you're actually out there reading this.
- To construct and reconstruct my self or my sense of self.
- As a strange mix of professional and amateur practice.
- As a sort of note in a bottle to others who may be drifting in the sea of whatever we might call our culture after postmodernism.
- Problem exploration.
- As part of a chain reactions to other writers and conversations.
- Building inventory for a mind palace.
- To imitate Marcus Aurelius.
- Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.
- To write while wondering if there is always a divine being who reads everything.
- Because I feel like it, and AI doesn't feel like anything.
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To be, or not to be, continued?