Buffy

My Interests:

Nuclear energy, writing, reading, the Earth, gaming, whimsy, and love.

My Favorite Shows/Movies:

Fallout, The Walking Dead, My Happy Marriage, Arcane, Avatar, and Sinners.

My Favorite Games:

Red Dead Redemption (One and Two), Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, Fallout 4, and Minecraft.

My Favorite Books:

To begin, all professors must put out a syllabus for every class they have. Usually, at the very bottom, there is a type of disclaimer about AI. As students, we are not allowed to use AI on our assignments at all. It is only permitted to be used in the "brainstorming" phase of an assignment. I find this to be the main time that you actually need to use your brain. It's literally in the name.

Why is it okay to not think for ourselves in the very beginning of a project? I have yet to understand an answer. I have spoken to my professors, and they don't like AI either. They think giving people a "responsible" way to use AI will make them not use it on the assignment. I don't think this is true, but teachers and professors are losing steam to fight this plague on our planet.

I have an intercultural communications class, and the first assignment is how to use AI to study cultures. I find this to be very unnerving. I was shocked and appalled. The arts is the number way to understand a culture. Historians look at things that have been painted, things that have been written, the dyes that they use, the language, and the stories they tell to better understand a group of people. How dare you spit in the face of all those people?

Since I have a brain, I will refuse to do it. If I have to take the 0 I will. AI should not permitted in educational spaces. AI should not be permitted for use by people. Data centers should not be built on the ground. It is destroying the Earth, destroying human connections, and destroying life as we know it. I will not lose my integrity or look back on my morals to make a decent grade in the class.

Anger is the safest emotion for me. All the other ones feel vulnerable, too raw, too real. I can keep them safe by sharing them on paper. I always recommend journaling to everyone I meet. Some people like to share verbally, but sometimes, it is best to let your emotions stew. That sting needs to leave before talking.

In writing in general, it is better to show an emotion. For a writing exercise, pick an emotion, write a scene, and never name that emotion.

Some examples:

"Their blood boiled just beneath their skin, and a jagged line formed the seam in their lips."

"The trees in the clearing pressed into the group and caged them in. A sheen of mist clung to their skin. The forest was oppressive."

Most importantly, writing is supposed to be fun. Be experimental. Think about your reader. A lot of blank space on the page will keep their eyes moving. Short and choppy sentences build tension. Longer sentences and dense paragraphs will slow them down. Become your character in that moment. See what they see, feel what they feel. Make everything dramatic.

The screen showed a room that sent a flush of goosebumps up his arm. There was nothing in the room at all, and the video was from a surveillance camera. He was interested in horror as much as anyone else, and without his parents here to warn him about the dangers of going to Hell, he could watch whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. 

Zaul moved closer to the curved screen. He could hear the constant buzzing of the static energy that felt like fuzz on the glass. The energy clung to his skin, curled around the atoms that made up his person, and pulled him in. Unable to scream, he just watched with wide eyes as his body was sucked into the television. 

He opened his eyes into the room. He could see the blinking red light in the corner from the camera that he had just been looking through. Zaul thought he could feel the faintest static in his limbs and between his organs, but otherwise he felt the same as he had before.

“What the fuck?” he cursed quietly.

He flinched at his own voice because it repeated back to him in this room. Zaul examined his surroundings because he would not let himself go insane, and it actually sent a thrill through him. The room was not spacious. The walls leaned towards him, and, peculiarly, the ceiling was slanted to the right, so it threw him off balance. On the walls, Zaul could see where the wallpaper was peeling and turning brown at the edges. The markings on the wallpaper were extremely faded, but he could still see the bead-like pattern. The corners of the room were intensely dark, and there were no spider webs despite the stagnant air. He dragged his fingers over the wallpaper, marvelling at how tangible it was.

He silently stepped out of the room, and the hallway was not better. The ceiling was flat, but it extended far beyond what should be feasible. The more he tried to rationalize it, the more an ache formed in the back of his skull. It looked exactly like a one point perspective drawing with how dramatic and false this was. He made his way down, testing the doorknobs as he went. A lead pit was settling in his stomach, but his cheeks were hurting from his smile.

All his life, he had been controlled. His parents told him what to do and when to do it, but this experience was distinctly his own. He was in control here, and all his actions were his own. Even with the tightening in his throat, he couldn’t help but be ecstatic. 

Static buzzed in his ears the closer he got to one of the doors. It was the only door that looked different than the others. The doorknob was gone, and he knelt in front of it. The smell of dust and mildew hit him, and it was thick in the air. This felt real all of the sudden. Unease bubbled in his gut because this wasn’t fun anymore. Everything in him blared for him to leave, to run, to get away. He pushed against the door anyway. 

The door creaked open loudly. Still, the room was the same as the others. The energy between his atoms vibrated faster. He scratched his skin like he could claw it out. Zaul wasn’t even paying attention anymore. The yellowing lights dimmed, the static in his ears got louder, and a little blinking red light started up in the corner of the room. 

“NO SIGNAL.” a robotic voice said, the tone jumped and lowered in pitch. 

The voice had the same tinge of static as his ears. Zaul could feel the stare of something penetrating his back, and it set the static alive in his body. He turned around slowly. His heart beat against his ribs, and his shoulders rose to his ears. It seemed to stare into his eyes now, and the figure had no eyes, no mouth, no nose. It didn’t look like anything except for mist and would flicker like someone was flipping channels on the TV. It held no distinct shape. A PSA alarm started to emanate from it. 

“...EVACUTE NOW.” 

Zaul didn’t have to be told twice. His body sprung into action before his mind could catch up. His legs burned as he ran down that never ending hallway. Some of the doors were open now, and he could see people with static in their eyes. They were holding their ears. He didn’t want to stay in this world any longer. 

He turned towards a room. He thought the door looked familiar, but he couldn’t be sure. His gut had reacted to it though, so he trusted it. Through the door must be his home. The fuzzy feeling of electrons curled around his hippocampus. 

He inched into the living room, taking extra caution not to wake up his parents. The TV was on, showing blocks of color. He really wanted to watch his horror movie now that he could. He adjusted the antenna, but he felt an urge to touch the screen. He could hear the buzzing, and it reflected within him. He turned to the side, and there was static in his eyes as he dissimilated into the TV.