Sometimes it works out, eventually

General

Got home from my new job (about a 35 minute commute because traffic was backed up on I5 and it spilled out onto the surface streets) and when I got out of my car, my dad was standing there smoking.

“How was your first day?” he asked.

“It was… good. I’ve got a good feeling about that place.” I chuckled. “I mean, I spent most of the day, about 90%, just signing in to things and resetting passwords. But, yeah. I like the people I work with.”

“That’s great, son. I’m glad it worked out for you.” Dad had been confounded by my stories about job hunting in the tech sector in The Year of Our Lord Two-thousand and Twenty-Three, for sure. Stories about being called in for three or four interviews and having the employer choose someone else. Stories about phantom job postings, where it’s clear the company isn’t hiring, just advertising positions for whatever economic gain it gets them. Stories about how me asking good questions in the interview caused the employer such distress about not knowing what they want this position to be, they pulled the listing, selected no one, and went back to the drafting board to start over from first principles.

It’s been a long job hunt, is what I’m saying. But I’ve landed in a good spot, I think.

Dad is basically of the Greatest Generation or slightly after, not quite a Boomer, and when he was job hunting he literally just had to walk in to a place, talk to the owner, and convince them to hire him. Much easier in the trades, I’m sure (he was an electrician) but pretty much standard job hunting behavior across many careers back in the day.

It’s almost never been like that for me. Early on, the only way to find jobs (that I knew about) was seeing a “Now hiring” sign in a window, or finding a job through these listings called “The Classfieds” in what we used to call “newspapers.” Then, at the very least I had to fill out an application, hand it in, and then wait to be called back for an interview when I started out. That call would come in to the phone in the house, which was wired to the wall, and not stuffed into a pocket that went everywhere with me.

Of course it’s not like that now. Jobs are advertised on the internet, same as every other thing, on specialized websites where I can upload a digital resume, which gets scanned and used to fill out applications, which are reviewed by computers and potentially forwarded to screeners and HR folks, or recruiters. That may trigger a phone or video call where they size you up. If that goes well you get forwarded to a hiring manager. If they like you, they’ll have you interview with even more people.

That’s how it works normally. Sometimes, sometimes, there are detours.

In the case of my current job, I did use one of those job posting sites to make the initial contact, and got a video call with the owner of the business. Except for it being digital, it could have been very much like my dad’s experience. That first conversation was casual in tone but covered a lot of ground as far as experience and my temperament went. I must have made a good impression, because there was only one more round of interview, a panel interview with the other owner and two of the techs I’d be working with, and literally three days later I had a solid job offer.

After 250 days of being an unemployee, I am now, once again, an employee. Better days are ahead, friends. I can feel it.

Expiration dates

Daily Story Project

Walked downstairs this evening to find dad in the kitchen unsealing a gallon bottle of Herdez green salsa, using his pocket knife to cut away the seal around the mouth.

“Oh,” I said, “did we run out of green salsa?”

“No but I saw this in the back of the fridge and figured we might as well use it.”

I frowned, pinching my eyebrows together. “I don’t know that I would trust that salsa, dad.”

“Why not?” he said. “What’s in here that would go bad?” He gestured at the bottle. I could tell my reaction to this was confusing to him.

“What’s the expiration date?” I picked up the bottle and turned it around. The label had printed on it “Good until May 2024”. I read that out loud, added “So it was good until last month. I probably bought it a year ago.”

“Well, Hell, I’m sure it’s still good.”

“OK. Let me know how that goes.” I was sure I bought it at least a year ago, long before he’d moved in. And then promptly forgot about it, because it was hidden away in the very back of my fridge, on a lower shelf, out of sight, out of mind. When I did accidentally see it in the intervening months, I felt a shiver of shame for having not used it at all, and then to avoid that bad feeling, had immediately put it out of my mind again.

Such is the weird way my brain works. I don’t have an official test or diagnosis, but from all I’ve read, this is basically ADHD, or at least something very much like it.

I went in the fridge and got a bottle of Mexican Coke out of the bin. “There’s so much food in there.”

Dad’s voice was both encouraging and tinged with fatherly concern. “Yeah, we should use it up. Hell, we have that whole package of chimichangas in there we haven’t even opened yet! That’s what I’m making for myself.”

“Yeah.” The guilt for buying food, ignoring it, and having to throw it out when it goes bad felt like a cold stone sitting in the bottom of my stomach, the cold radiating up my chest and back. I know I should eat the stuff I buy, I know I shouldn’t buy more food when there’s food still to eat. But that’s also why I tend to buy either canned goods or frozen foods, things that will keep a very long time. I know that if I don’t see it, I’ll forget about it until somethind reminds me.

If dad wasn’t here and I was buying food for myself, I would not buy nearly as much, for exactly this reason. I don’t like it when food goes bad. So I don’t buy it, then when I get hungry, I buy something from a fast food restaurant, something immediate, delicious, and expensive. Another bad habit.

I went out for a walk after that, putting on my trail shoes and wearing my coat because it’s been so rainy lately. When I got back, I made myself a pastrami sandwich, using the tomatoes, onion, and lettuce that had not yet gone bad, and opening up the new loaf of bread we had gotten, what, two grocery trips ago? No mold on the bread.

Might as well use it up.

Righty, tighty; lefty, loosey

Cars

My butt was on the ground and my hands were inside the car door, from which I had removed the interior panel. The wiring harness for the windows, door lock, mirror controls and door light snaked across the painted metal, hanging down like vines growing across a wall. My left hand held the bottom of the window glass, keeping it from sliding down from its raised position; through the access hole in the door designed by clever engineers for exactly this purpose, my right hand held the nut that I was trying to screw into the window regulator to hold the window more permanently in place. Uh-oh. I needed a third hand.

“Hey, dad,” I said, “can you get me the 10 mm socket? And the extender-thingie?”

“Sure,” dad said from behind me. I turned my head and watched as he poked through the toolbox, which was sitting on the rear passenger seat, that door also open. Otherwise my entire field of view was this unassembled door.

Four days earlier, after driving dad over to my nephew’s house to watch their cat while my nephew and his wife went camping, my inside car door handle had stopped working. I had hurriedly and in frustration given maybe a bit too much force to the switch to roll the driver’s side window down so I could exit. After chatting with dad and my nephew, I’d gotten back in the car and found that the window switch had broken, too.

Hazards of driving an old car. My car was new in 1996 but increasingly less so every year after that. I’m the third owner, and while it continues to run with just minor maintenance – I joke that as long as I keep the fluids topped up, it’ll outlast me – some things are just worn and fragile. In fact, this is the second time the window switch has broken. It’s a cheap part, but annoying to replace.

Behind me I heard dad click the socket onto the extension-thingie. “Here, son,” he handed it down to me. I asked him to hold the window in place, then used both hands to put the socket on the bolt head, and turn it.

“Righty, tighty; lefty, loosey,” dad said, ironically.

I chuckled. “I know! I learned that from you, at least.”

I’d learned a lot from dad, including many lessons that seemed to be simple rules for living under his roof growing up, but turned out to be cleverly disguised as life lessons. When I was a kid, our roles would be reversed from what I was doing now. He’d be the one with his head and hands on thing he was fixing; I’d be the one who had to find and bring the right tool, the tool he’d forgotten he’d needed right then and there. That lesson was “know your tools” and I always thought it was like magic how he could look at a bolt and know, somehow, that it was a 12 mm, or a 3/8″, depending on the circumstances and the part.

“I don’t care if you borrow my tools,” he told me, “as long as you put them back where you found them.” Again, that’s something specific for him; he always tried to keep his toolbox organized, the garage neat and tidy; he’d clean up spilled oil, polish his Craftsman wrenches before sorting them into their proper places. But that’s also a lesson about life. It’s OK to share, but make sure you return what you’ve borrowed.

He taught me how to maintain a car, what the parts of the car did, and backed it up with the lesson “Don’t just be a parts-swapper; fix the problem.” He had unkind words for engineers who designed things without any care for how the things would be used; he dismissed them as idealist eggheads, generally speaking. Dad was always a blue-collar working-class guy. He got dirt under his fingernails, he barked his knuckles trying to turn a wrench in tight spaces. And even though I was distracted, angsty, and dealing with a brain that I would not learn until much much later operated in non-standard ways, I did learn from him.

Happy Father’s Day, dad. I would not be the person I am today without your guidance and advice. Love your guts.

Saturday Night Grief

Daily Story Project

It’s been a gray rainy day. Sure there have been moments where some blue sky shows through the clouds but those have been few and far between. I did manage to get out and do a short walk without getting too wet, but even that involved sheltering under a tree for a few minutes to avoid a shower that would have drenched me.

I’m restless and unfocused today, for reasons that I will post about shortly but can’t just yet. Bear with me. Good things have happened, but despite being positive news, it heralds a change, and I think I’m grieving the change, which… that’s weird, right? Oh, maybe not. Wait, I can’t ask you because you don’t know what this is all about.

Been basically snacking all day, since I’ve been primarily stuck inside. Coffee, two cherry turnovers, half a bag of Pirate Booty, a hot dog, three chicken tacos, a hot dog, a handful of mini cinnamon rolls, and a pickle. Oh, and a can of Squirt and a bottle of Mexican Coke. A lotta carbs. I’m sure the weird fuel I’m putting in my body has some kind of an effect on my mood, but I am not a fooditician so I cannot say for certain.

Worked on some maps for locations my players will definitely absolutely get to, and one location they might possibly get to, and another map for a location that’s really only important to me to detail. Once I start a map it comes together quickly, though I can endlessly add details unti the cows come home, which is a farming metaphor I don’t use often.

The change in weather has caused my ears to stop up, I think, leaving me fuzzy-headed and distracted by the sinus and ear pressure. Incredibly distracting and annoying.

It’s the middle of June and I had to turn my heat on in the apartment today. That just seems so weird. That’s how chilly it is today.

I got approved for a new credit card, a rewards card with no annual fee, which just seems incredibly reckless on the part of the credit card company, considering my ancient history with credit as well as the fact that I am currently unemployed and have been since October 13 last year. Far be it from me to shield giant financial institutions from the consequences of their own actions, though. First thing I did with the card was buy an MLB.tv subscription for the rest of the season. Go Dodgers!

Tomorrow is Father’s Day and tomorrow’s post will be about my dad and how I’m happy he’s still here and how we have a good relationship. Not in exactly those words, of course. I plan on picking a story about something we shared together to illustrate that. So look out for that. If you would prefer to avoid stories about dads at all, for whatever reason, feel free to skip the blog tomorrow. I won’t mind; just wanted you to know.

AI is for shitposting

Tech

I’ve discovered the best use of generative AI, and that is trolling my D&D players.

OK, well, not trolling so much as giving them lore dumps, NPC images, and in-universe books and letters that would take me far too long to write and make interesting and unique. As long as I curate the images, and only share them privately to my players with the caveat that they’re possibly plagiarized from actual art so don’t post them on the world wide web, I think I’m on ethically-safe ground.

Why is that a concern of mine? Well, Molly White has done a much better job of going over the pros and cons of Large Language Models (LLMs) and Generative Pre-trained Transformers (GPTs) recently but here’s my take: most of the companies and organizatoins that are creating these LLMs are just scraping vast amounts of data off the open internet, without regard for consent of the writers, artists, and musicians. Also without much regard for the actual truth value of the information that’s out there, which means any repsonse (I hesitate to call them “answers”, because they’re not, except in the broad sense of being an answer to input) is not vetted or measured against the question “is this information true?”

AIs like these machine-learning models are just spicy autocorrect; they don’t “know” anything about the topics they put together responses for; they’re just putting words together in common and statistically-valid ways. And the image generators are essentially forging new images from bits and pieces of actual creative artist’s work. And in both cases, they don’t reference their sources; all the ones I’ve dealt with just phrase their responses in the most chirpy, confident manner. It’s easy to fall into the habit of thinking the response is based on factual knowledge; they’re not, every answer has to be checked before anyone relies on it. Taking that extra time to vet the information renders any time-savings almost moot.

But as long as someone goes in with that awareness, and aren’t relying on ChatGPT, Copilot, or Google AI or any of them for authoritative true statements, they can be quite clever and fun. Which leads me back to my original point.

Here, I made two robots create a song that is now canonically sung by bards of the city-state of Kopno’domas, jewel of the Sunset Coast. I give you “The Ballad of the Red Elves Invasion“.

Last session, my players were trying to make sense of a jar of rust-red sand they found in a dungeon, and an NPC they showed it to mentioned remembering a song about an invasion of Red Elves from a red plane of existence. My players joked that they didn’t want me to sing, but instead I opend a tab to OpenAI’s ChatGPT, gave it a simple prompt “Can you write a song in the style of a bardic ballad about an invasion of the red elves?” and it spit out these lyrics:

In a time of peace and gentle grace,
When meadows bloomed in fair embrace,
From the north there came a chilling breeze,
Whispering tales of looming seas.

In shadows deep, ‘neath moonlit skies,
The Red Elves marched with crimson eyes.
Their armor gleamed like blood-stained gold,
With hearts as fierce as legends told.

From forests dark and mountains high,
They came with neither hue nor cry.
The silent specters of the night,
Their power known, their presence fright.

Through village lanes and cities bright,
They cast a veil of endless night.
With blades that sang of ancient strife,
They sought to drain the realm of life.

The farmers’ fields, the merchants’ wares,
Were left to ruin, in dire despair.
The children’s laughter turned to cries,
As hope was choked ‘neath reddened skies.

Yet in this darkest, dire hour,
There rose a hero with a power.
A bard whose voice could quell the storm,
With melodies that hearts transform.

He sang of courage, valor, truth,
Of ancient oaths and warriors’ youth.
His words like fire, his notes like steel,
Awoke the land, made spirits heal.

The people rallied to his song,
Their fear dispelled, their hearts grown strong.
With every verse, with every rhyme,
They turned the tide, defied the time.

The Red Elves’ might began to wane,
Their cruel command, their ruthless reign.
For music’s magic, pure and free,
Restored the light, reclaimed the sea.

And as the dawn broke clear and bright,
The Red Elves fled into the night.
Their legend told in mournful tune,
Of how they met their fate too soon.

So let this tale be known to all,
Of how the brave can never fall.
With song and heart, with courage bold,
The land was saved, the story told.

I shared it with my players and we had a laugh. This morning, I discovered Udio, another generative-AI site that uses prompts to generate music and songs, so I fed in the lyrics above, with the additional prompt of “a song about the invasion of the Red Elves from outer space set in a fantasy world, defeated by an incredible bard” in the folk style, and that’s what it came back with. It’s probably using samples I don’t recognize… and yet, it’s fun and I enjoyed making (“making”) it and enjoyed sharing it with my players.

Now, I need to write some songs for other lore dumps I can give to my players…

Another post about another day

General

Another day another dollar. Wait, I didn’t get a dollar today. I did perform a minor repair of my car, had a great job interview, got called back for a third job interview next week, and had dinner with the family at a fantastic, vegan, worker-owend cooperative Sri Lankan restaurant. But I did not earn a dollar.

I also thought and talked about D&D, hung out with my dad, talked to my bestie, and am now writing something completely random instead of the five or six other ideas I jotted down in my IDEAS file. But no dollar.

I drank not just one but two delicious pineapple ciders, a Mexican Coke, and a bunch of water. Made myself a chicken quesadilla, drank coffee for breakfast. No extra dollar to be found there.

I shaved, wore a white button-down collared shirt and black slacks at one point; t-shirt and jeans and trail shoes; workout clothes and running shoes; different t-shirt and cargo shorts; and a different t-shirt and sweat pants. Nobody paid me anything for those.

I’m thinking about going to bed early, because I got up a couple of hours before my normal wake-up time, and did a shorter walk than usual for my daily walk. Walked around the wrecking yard but somehow that did not count as exercise to my Watch, to which I have delegated the tracking of my exercise and physical activity, so I am now counting this time, sitting in front of my computer writing this post, as a “Mind & Body” exercise just to close my rings. None of this, alas, is worth being paid. It’s just maintenance of my physical form. No dollars for any of that.

I planned out, with my sister, getting my dad to and from some doctor’s appointments next week. Planned out what we’re doing for Father’s Day this weekend. Planned out a weekend-long game-playing vacation with my friends. Planned for the follow-up job interview next week. No extra dollars were given to me for any of those activities, though a few of them might lead to getting a salary. One lives in hope, of course, but the job market is tough these days.

I’m racking my brain right now to see if I recall anything else I did today. Y’know, for documentation purposes. I also racked my brain to answer a question about Azure AD DS, but came up empty. I didn’t have to rack my brain for the other five or six ideas I added to my IDEA file; those came to me naturally and in the normal course of thinking, and I immediately added them to the list so as not to forget them. No dollars, no quarters, no dimes, nickels or pennies. Nope.

I sang along to Harvey Danger songs. I used a digital map to help me navigate around the city. I used voice activation and my Watch to update my grocery list. I did not see any income from these activities.

So

Another day, no dollars.

This one’s for me

General

Tonight I am feeling many things and maybe, just maybe, writing about them will help me sort them out. Bear with me, this might just be personal ramblings and thoughts. I’m warning you up front; feel free to skip this one if it doesn’t interest you. This one’s for me.

It’s been a busy couple of days. That emergency I mentioned before is almost completely fixed; I still have some things to take care of but I have all the information and pieces I need to do that. But the stress of it is still with me, worrying about why it happened, and if I could have done anything to prevent it, and why it had to happen right now, alongside all the other things in my life I’m dealing with. Philosophically, as I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think bad or good things happen to me for some unknown reason. Things just happen and I get to decide how I react to them. But it is stressful to have to deal with several different minor crises at the same time.

The other minor crisis is the job hunt. I have been interviewing lately and that’s a good thing because eventually interviews should, under normal circumstances, lead to a job offer. But it’s been many months of searching, and many interviews, and I’m a bit tired of the process and wishing it was over. I do feel a sense of duty to show up, though, and I always give the best I can give at any one moment. The anxiety and stress feed my Inner Negative Voice, which tries to trick me into thinking I deserve bad news, but as mentioned I don’t actually believe that. All that Inner Negative Voice does is wear me down and tire me out and get me to lower my defenses against hopelessness. I’m stronger than that.

I’ve survived every bad day life has ever thrown at me. And I’ll survive many more. I’m not done yet, not by a long shot.

Might just need some rest, though. As soon as I’ve gotten this post to ~500 words, I’ll do that.

The other crisis is my dad’s living situation. He’s still staying with me, and I’m happy and glad to spend time with him and provide him with a place to stay while his living space is being repaired. But seeing him deal with the process of aging, and seeing how his health is declining (rightfully so, since he’s lived a long life already, full of all the things life can throw at someone), it’s eye-opening and… tragic? Tragic feels like the right word. He and I haven’t always gotten along, worse when I was much younger, but we have gotten to a good place in recent years, and I… I don’t want to think about him not being here. I’m not ready for that. I’ll just enjoy the time I do get to spend with him. I’m glad he’s here, in multiple senses of the word here. Here in my apartment, here in my life, here on the right side of the dirt, as he’s fond of saying.

Only good things

General

Having trouble thinking of something to write tonight. Had an eventful day but most of it was negative or stressful and I’m not sure I want to share it all here. It did get half-way sorted out eventually, which is good, but it took a lot out of me.

Let’s see what good things happened. Bioware dropped the gameplay trailer for the next Dragon Age game and I could not be more excited. Varric is older and still a badass with empathy. The actual combat reminds me of the fast-paced action of Dragon Age 2 or Andromeda, which is a plus for me. Rogues can switch between melee and bow in combat again! As a dedicated rogue player I love that so much.

Talked to a friend about it and they said that it didn’t feel like Dragon Age to them, which I’ve heard others say. Their take on it is that to them, Dragon Age is serious and dark, and seeing Varric make quips and take a drink in the middle of a tense situation involving his old friend Solas. I could see their point… but I disagree. Yes, dark horrible things happen in Dragon Age games, but the characters are often cracking wise or sarcastic with each other in the midst of it all.

Like I said to my friend, Purple Hawke has entered the chat.

We do agree however that of course we will be playing it, of course we are. New Dragon Age game! And coming this Fall, which is sooner than I would have expected.

Hmmm. Other good things. Hung out with dad; he’s housesitting a very grumpy old cat this week, so I drove him over there. And got to info-dump about D&D with my nephew for almost an hour. We love sharing stories of our separate games with each other, although I’m always afraid I do more of the talking than the listening. My nephew is very kind to listen to my ramblings, though.

Our next game is tomorrow night. I have a city map that I’ve been working on and it’s enormous and detailed and almost entirely unnecessary for play but I’m having a blast. And I have another map I’ve been working on the past couple of days for a potential encounter. No spoilers in case my players read this but I’ve learned a lot of new tricks making this map. Have I talked about Inkarnate before? It’s so good. And they’ve added new Room and Path tools that make it so easy to outline a building or a wall or a fence or stairs. Just such a delight to use.

Because the emergency took up time I was supposed to use grocery shopping, I ordered pad Thai chicken tonight for dinner, which is an absolute favorite of mine. And I watched the next episode of The Acolyte, which explained some backstory that other shows might have held back or fed us in drips over the season. I’m glad they gave this to us in episode 3; it feels like they’re going to deal with the fallout of that backstory now. An old rule of improv is skip to the interesting part, and the writers of The Acolyte are following that advice. Good stuff!

See? I did have 500ish words of positive things in me tonight. Thanks for reading! Tomorrow is another job interview, bright and early. Something’s gotta happen soon!

The Algorithm Found Me

Tech

The algorithm finally found me, and it’s kind of terrifying, in an exciting way. Like a roller coaster, perhaps, but one whose maintenance and safety is unknown and untrusted and therefore viewed properly with suspicion.

Let me back up a bit. This is about TikTok, the current hot potato social media site. Sure, the US Government is hypocritically and for cynical reasons trying to force the Chinese government to give up control, and, failing that, ban it. I have opinions about that, surely, of course, but in the meantime, I have fun watching videos about comic books, D&D, lesbians, trans, and gay folks, and helping Palestine. Seriously that’s like 90% of my For You Page (FYP), the algorithmically-generated content it shows me. I don’t engage much, normally, just scroll through, like posts, maybe comment once in a while, and then close out.

Tragedy in Gaza

Recognition of the Palestinian genocide feels, from my view, to be the biggest social movement on the platform. (By the by, if you disagree with me on the word “genocide“, realize that the vast majority of UN member states as well as the International Criminal Court agrees with me, and I’m comfortable being on the side of the majority of the world.)

Related to that, a month or two ago, right after this year’s Met Gala, a lot of creators were calling out celebrities with large followings for not speaking out against genocide. The theory goes, if you have a large platform, you have a duty to use that platform to inform and direct your follower’s attention to things happening in the world. Especially, y’know, bad things. And minor social media influencer Hayley Kalil made a post from the Met Gala using the sound “Let them eat cake”, drawing immediate connection to the legendary inspiration for La Madame Guilotine and the French Revolution. A TikTok user named LadyFromTheOutside suggested we start not just unfollowing influencers like Kalil we disagree with, but also block them, a “digitine” – digital guilotine.

Mass blocking, posts about best ways to block, and posts trumpeting the success or failure of the bloking, ensued. And because of the way marketing and the TipTop algorithm works, mass blocking of celebrities caused a lot of problems for them. It was fun to watch and see the TikTok admins try to fix things, while marketing people explained in videos that it was working, to some degree of the word “working.”

Teamwork makes the dream work

When the anti-celebrity feelings rose, so also rose a sense of community among the non-celebrities; folks with small followings, or regular folks who just post regular things, not sponsored content. And a creator on TikTok named Jake (@jheisenburg) pointed out that just watching videos generates income for them, thanks to the Creativity Fund beta program. Qualified views on a video that gets over a certain amount of attention will be compensated by TikTok. Jake sat down and calculated how much money a specific number of views on a video would pay, and if they got X number of views, they could pay off their student loans.

That video, of course, went viral. People wanted to a) help this person pay off their debt, and b) wanted to get enough views on their videos to pay of their debts. The idea that people could get paid directly by the platform owners, without any viewers having to send their own money, was kind of like a gold rush moment. “All I need is five seconds of your time; don’t scroll away, please.” It spread like wildfire, and in a way, it was such a positive, wholesome moment. People helping each other out, with the bare minimum of attention. The main hashtag that emerged was #Teamwork because that’s what it felt like. Let’s all work together, use the tools the platform has given us, and maybe we can all benefit.

Eventually the details for what had to happen were sussed out. To even apply for the Creativity Fund, which is still in beta as of the writing of this post, a user on TikTok had to have 10,000 followers minimum, and had to have 700,000 qualified views. Once that threshhold was crossed, and their application for the Creativity Fund was accepted, then any view of 5 minutes or more on a video by that creator that was more than a minute long was deemed a “qualified view”, and each one of those was worth a certain amount of money. Not a lot, mind you, but some. And the more views that video got, the more money was paid out. Another caveat was that the videos had to be algorithmically pushed; you had to come across it on your FYP or it wouldn’t count.

TikTok demands organic engagement

TikTok was basically paying people to engage with the platform. They want videos to go viral. They want people to make fun, entertaining, or otherwise engaging content. The pay rewarded views; the other activities, liking, commenting, favoriting, and sharing, were signals to the algorithm that said “this one should be shown to more people.” That’s how the software figures out what “viral” is.

People who were over that threshhold started telling people how to play, and encouraging their followers to follow them so the creator could follow them back. People wanted to lift up creators under 10K, or even under 1K followers, which is the threshold when a creator can start doing Live streaming on the app, which is a great way to get views, followers, and also rewards like gifts and the like. People were hoping this trend would help them out, but they were also using it to generate donations for families in Palestine or the Congo. It felt, to me, sincere. It felt like community and working together. And you know me, I’m a sucker for community.

Saying “I’ll follow you back” is called a “follow train“, a quid pro quo that the platform hates, since it’s seen as gaming the algorithm and not “organic” engagement. But folks didn’t care, at least until TikTok started suppressing videos that used the hashtags or keywords. People found ways around that, as people always do, and the trend mutated a bit.

What the Hell am I doing here?

And now you have the context for my experience with the Teamwork hashtag. As I said above, I don’t really use social media to get huge numbers of views, engagement, or pay when it’s available. I think the most number of followers I’ve ever had in the past two decades is ~1500 on the shithole once known as Twitter (fuck you, Elon.) As of three weeks ago, on TikTok I followed a handful of friends and family, and another handful of interesting quirky creators, which totaled under 100. But I dug the idea that by watching other people’s videos I could help them out. Hell, I’m going to watch anyway.

At the height of the whole #Teamwork trend, I made a video where I said to anyone watching that they didn’t have to follow me back, they didn’t have to watch 5 seconds or more, they didn’t have to like or comment, because I am no where near having enough followers to even qualify. But I would do my best to watch their videos, comment if I could. I called it my Statement of Intent. I wanted to help, I expected no reward because I couldn’t give a shit who followed me or not, karma is real, I love you all. Sure, I’m unemployed. I could use another source of income right now. I just don’t have any clue how to get even 100 people to care enough about the random shit I sometimes post to click that “Follow” button on my account.

I knew that posting regularly also told the almighty algo that I was ready to be shown to a wider audience, so for a few days I posted daily, including a video where I mentioned being unemployed but looking for that dream job. I didn’t beg, not exactly… but it was kind of a beg post. I didn’t say send money directly. Was just putting out there that I’m looking for work. Not a beg, but an ad. That video got just under 700 views and a handful of comments in the first day it was on the platform, and then views trailed off. Oh, well, I figured that was my shot. I posted a couple more times, but gave up on the idea that my follower count would explode. I was happy just watching and helping others. My TikTok habits went back to where they were before the trend. I did gain a few followers over the next few weeks but the number stalled out around, I shit you not, 420, dude, which honestly felt a bit like a troll.

And then… last night, as I was getting in bed, I started getting a bananas amount of notifications from the app. People were commenting, people were following, and people were sharing. They were offering job hunting advice, they said things like “GenX is showing up for you!” and they were sending love, prayers, and good thoughts. When I finally set down my phone I had over 650 total followers. It was amazing, and a little terrifying. I’m an introvert, I don’t like being perceived. That was why I was OK when I hadn’t gone viral earlier; it was a relief. Now, though…

And again that’s not a lot of new friends. It takes 10K to get in the Creativity Fund, remember, and I was still a long, long, long way from that. But 1000 now seemed in reach, if the trend continued.

The algorithm pushed my stuff out to the right eyeballs, they took action, and even more eyeballs turned my direction, briefly. By the end of the day Sunday, as I write this, I have just over 900. I’ve been following most of them back (I don’t follow vocal fascists and Republicans, crypto bros, or empty accounts with no profile pic or videos; everyone else I do follow back.) I’ve replied to many of the kind comments, and chatted with a few (most of the chatters are shilling for their paid private porn, though, sadly; if I were employed with a solid handle on my bills, I’d probably toss them a few bucks. Why not? I like paying for my porn. Alas, not currently in that position.)

It’s good that we, the people, talk to each other. I suspect that’s why our government isn’t happy, coupled with the fact that we talk to each other on a platform who’s beholden to a government in a very competitive position to the US. There is a lot of pushback on both Democratic and Republican bullshit on the clock app and that’s gotta sting to them. But for now, it’s entertaining… and engaging. Just as it’s designed to be.

Failed quest trigger

General

I can still hear the crows cawing outside. They’ve been out there all afternoon. I first noticed them around 3:00 pm. There was a whole murder of them (nailed it!) and I could hear them circling around outside my computer room window, which is on my second floor. I got video of them and they were literally circling around above my patio. When I went out to see them, I tried talking to them, and they landed in trees just past my patio but did not stop cawing.

I went downstairs to see if dad was out on the patio; that’s where he goes to smoke. He wasn’t; he was on the couch watching TV. I asked him if he’d heard the crows and he hadn’t. I tried to get some more video but it was just sound; they weren’t in sight, just sitting on tree limbs.

I am the kind of person who respects crow’s intelligence and curiosity. I even talk to crows when I’m out and about. I treat them like friends, say hi, ask them how they’re doing. I rarely get an answer, though, and I never have any treats to give them, so I never expected to build up a relationship with the local crows.

So weird. OK, maybe it’s not weird. I edited my video clips together and posted them on Instagram and TikTok. My joke was that the Raven Queen had a mission for me.

You don’t know who the Raven Queen is? That’s a D&D reference; she’s one of the canonical D&D gods and her domain is death and memory. And I’ve used her as a motivator in my current campaign, even before I knew that Matt Mercer had used her for Vax’ildan’s (Liam O’Brien) character arc in Campaign One of his enormously popular Let’s Plays. The Raven Queen rules from her domain, which is in the Shadowfell, a dark mirror of the primary world, what us grognards called the Prime Material Plane. But, I digress.

Clearly these crows, corvid messengers of Our Lady of Death, had a message for me. But what could it be? I talked to them, told them it was safe to speak, that I was ready to listen, but they just continued squawking, agitated, non-stop. They were still doing it hours later. By now, the sun has gone down, and they’ve mostly stopped but every once in a while I can still hear one or more of them calling.

Sure, it could just be that they are alerting me and everyone around that there’s a hawk nearby. There’s a game I play that I’ve written about before called The Long Dark, and in that game, hearing crows can give useful information about the environment. Crows (in that game, I’m not sure if they do this in real life) will circle above a dead animal, making the carcass which provides meat, hides and guts easier to locate. And crows in the game have a special more agitated call that will alert the player of the presence of a bear. Gotta know where the bear is because it’s very dangerous if you’re not prepared.

That would be a mundane explanation, sure, but isn’t it pretty to think more interesting things, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone? I’m just sad that no matter what I tried I wasn’t able to trigger the quest. Nothing has shown up in my journal. Boooooo. Hopefully it’s not a timed quest. I’ll try again tomorrow.