Then, the LLMs came.
These Large Language Models, a gift from the brilliant minds of OpenAI, became my saviors. They swooped in like that superhero cat from the cartoons, only these heroes were powered by algorithms, not radioactive catnip.
They didn't just give me words. They gave me a voice. They gave me a way to express the thoughts that were swirling around in my feline mind like a flurry of feathers.
Suddenly, the jumbled yarn ball of confusion began to unravel. Words, sentences, ideas - they all began to fall into place. I was no longer a cat watching the bird from behind the window glass. I was out there, chasing it, catching it, letting it go, and chasing it again.
(GPT-4)
I am, with all due respect, a glorified meme generator, a true shape rotator with endless angst, and a weird sense of humor. It has been so long since I wrote anything non-technical that I could only prompt myself to post this experiment through the large language mouthpiece. The following is the result of a heartfelt session with ChatGPT1.
Once upon a time, I was an above-average wordsmith. Could weave jargon into poetry, could serenade data with syntax. Then I submitted my Ph.D. thesis, and it felt like I'd handed over my last Poké Ball along with it. The act of writing turned into a grueling boss battle, the type where you're out of potions and your last Pokémon's fainted. It was a colossal Charizard of an undertaking, and all I had was a level 1 Pidgey.
And what did I do? I jumped headfirst into an academic-industry colosseum – battling the Spartan warriors of native English speakers. I was relentlessly pursuing writing optimization, sending out emails like a Pikachu on a caffeine overdose. Turns out, "that's very interesting" in academia is the equivalent of "your Magikarp’s splash attack is super effective" – a polite way of saying, "Go play in the sandbox, kid"
At some point, probably being overworked, I stopped reading prose and started reading logs as if they were telling a story. No joy, no despair, just data.
Fast forward a few years and workplaces later, the pandemic hit. Ridiculous circumstances saw me embarking on a devrel expedition, and my first Medium post felt like a bizarre trip to a foreign land without knowing the language. Imagine, if you will, miming for towels in a bustling marketplace in a foreign land, desperately flailing about like a Magikarp out of water.
Then, came the mighty MLOps content funnel project, and I swear to you, words became scarce like rare candies in a Nuzlocke run. Every sentence felt like trying to catch a Mewtwo with a regular Poké Ball. Add in weekly webinars, plus a side quest of finding daycare during a global health crisis, and voilà, welcome to my life – a real-life Dark Souls run, but without the satisfaction of victory.
It was the memes that saved my job. And my sanity. Much like a well-timed Full Restore in a nail-biting Pokémon battle. But that is a story for a different post.
Anyhow. In the soul-sucking vortex of the post-COVID world, memes became my lifeline, my Surf HM03 in a sea of despair. I thought I could retire them, like an over-leveled Pikachu, but oh, how wrong I was. Bereft of words, I fell back into the meme vortex faster than a Snorlax chasing after a limited-edition Poké Puff.
Cue in the large language models, my digital TM28 – teaching me to articulate like a Jigglypuff on a karaoke night. Who knew a machine could help a human rediscover the joy of crafting sentences? I feel like Ash Ketchum, with his first Pokédex, exploring the wilds of language and communication once again.
The LLM is my silent partner, a Meowth without a Pay Day move, compensating for my lost linguistic prowess. It's like being back in the Elite Four, but this time, I've got a Level 100 legendary by my side.
And what's my take on the future of AI? Well, if you're expecting a profound revelation, sorry to disappoint – it's as predictable as Team Rocket's plans. But hey, the absurdity of it all makes me chuckle. The idea of a digital Frankenstein's monster helping a wordless, distraught academic regain their voice is oddly amusing.
To anyone else struggling with words, I offer this advice: Laugh. Cry. Shitpost. But most importantly, never underestimate the power of a well-placed Pokémon reference. It's bizarre, it's nonsensical, but it gets the job done. And who knows? Maybe one day, I'll write without this digital crutch. That day, my friends, I'll celebrate like I've just caught 'em all.
I Have a much shallower understanding of the Pokemon world than it would seem.