Like Cincinnati, We're On to Fifty

Did I inadvertently punch in a cheat code? Did I tumble down a wormhole? I was supposed to be this way when I hit 50. Yesterday at 45, I inexplicably found I am more indifferent to the outside; I changed. Sports, politics, economics—whatever, I just do not care. The participants are outsiders; the stories have little relevance. I make no impact on these people or events. I understand the core of the narrative and how it goes ad nauseum.

I now grasp why my Dad never had an interest in sports or cars that were not his own. There are things I personally am excited about my involvement in doing and getting done—little things. They don't have the weight of eternal glory. Like, how cool it would be to create my own little model town with a functioning train and LED lights?

Yesterday, I ran this site with a different title. "just a geek" I felt it was appropriate, though not a lot of meat on those bones semantically. I wanted something like, "not a god, but just a man." That is rich theologically, however, easily misinterpreted and...TOO LONG. So, I am back with INTJ Bill—BUT in lowercase! "Wow, wow, wow...wow."

A Long Network Run

My removal of some of the resolutions from the list is not the same as my shelving them. I still DM every Sunday for my family; as always, there is Tabletop Thursday with them. Others, like the 300,000/month step goal never had much of a footing. I mean, why? 10K steps is overrated. Of course, I liked that goal because it was just another number where I had to go out of my way for extra movement. That's why there was once a time in my life it was set to 20k. This city living tends to stagnate.

That said, I do appreciate a gray water line that goes to a sewer and not the highway. That thing I had would back up and flood out of the garage sink, especially if I chose to wash clothes and run the dishwasher at the same time. Eventually, I'd just washed dishes by hand. It was consistent with my hanging up clothes outside to dry once that Samsung side loader went belly up after a year.

The thing is, while in the moment those things seemed to steal my day, in reality, they opened up my playbook. I used those opportunities to listen to applicative audiobooks, impactful podcasts and insightful sermons. All were game changers. My mind and body got stronger. Those chores were not convenient. But, that time in the country was critical to who I am today.

Who does not want Rosie the Robot, the housemaid from The Jetson's? Sign me up!

Likely, she would need to call back to her handlers, which would have been a problem. Internet access was precious in those days as I divvied up the hotspot access each month, those 30 GB's still preferable to Viasat satellite which is the telephone party line of the high-tech redneck. This again, underscores the increased challenges of the country mouse over his city cousin in today's technological landscape.

Indeed, it separates exceedingly in this year's singularity of artificial intelligence critical mass. It feels odd to know that every intellectual advantage I have over the average guy on the street has been eliminated. What good is education? What good is intelligence? Just to spot mistakes in AI answers?

In the past, Googling was an art to filter out quality content over the mundane to ensure it was sourced appropriately. Today, AI shovels rich content while refusing to cite sources; I'm afraid this will condition us over time just to accept the answers are right like we did during the zombie outbreak...well, most did. "Fire up the Damn Yankees, boys. Don't Jab On Me." And maybe that's the biggest difference between the country and the city: metropolis mice are mindless minions mimicking the mandated machinations.

And AI does anything and everything more artfully than I can! But what do I lose in the process? What potential? More sinisterly: who controls its purse strings? I have already noticed political slants by AI's handlers. And should something dominate our lives that can be entirely eliminated by just pulling a single cord, flipping a single circuit?

Who are we without this artificial existence? And in a larger discussion of the Internet, who are we when the voices are silenced, when the buzz of electricity is the waft of an extinguished candle?

"Get In Ma Belly!"

When I awoke yesterday morning, my plan was to do what I do every day, wind up eating something like 230 grams of fat and about 10 grams over my targeted protein amount. I thought I'd approach this day like any other. My wife gave me a 6.7 oz of Versace Dylan Blue the other day and I thought that was that. But, no she gave me another surprise: bagged collections of pork rinds and fried pork fat from the Mexican grocery; salmon; prosciutto; a few lbs of chicken wings; a 12-pack of my carbonated water; and ingredients for an oopsie cake.

Did I eat all of that? Hardly! Is my 75-gram protein target average obliterated for this Expedition? Pretty much!

For the day, I escaped the day with over 50 grams of protein for the day and the most net carbs since November: TWELVE! "Whoopsie" oopsie...cake!

I have not had oopsie cake since my first Carniversary in 2021. But when I did, I then went on a half-a-yearlong binge of heavy whipping cream. Fingers are crossed I don't do a repeat of that! I feel fairly certain that I won't do THAT again.