Preface
I am the first to admit that I am writing from a biased perspective. I have always been a reluctant user of technology. As much as it has advanced my well-being, I dream of the day I no longer need the tether which ties me to my cellphone. Something about smashing the device to bits and moving to a small home in the woodsy mountains is an increasingly romantic notion. I bought my first computer in late 2015. A few years back, one of my dearest friends gifted me an Amazon Echo Alexa device in a white elephant gift exchange during Christmastime. I never birthed the device from its box, and ended up giving it away because “I didn’t trust it.” (I still do not.) I drive a 2001 model vehicle. I prefer to read from tangible pages. Up until like two years ago, I could not make a PowerPoint to save my life. This is where I’m coming from, call it what you will. A younger friend of mine calls me “old man,” despite the fact that I’m still in my 20s. I can live with the nickname because this old man can run faster than him.
Many of my “For you” stories these days — greeting me with every entry to this site — share a similar subject and sentiment: the welcome and awesome capabilities of ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence chatbot software developed by OpenAI, in the space of writing. You might be familiar with…
