How GenAI Brought Light to My Life

I have a complicated relationship with generative artificial intelligence, or GenAI. Simply put, GenAI is a type of AI that can produce text, images, and audio. It’s behind the Google AI Overviews, digital assistants, and auto-correction technology that you use everyday. When I first played around with it, I was entertained. I enjoyed spending time exploring what AI could produce and it seemed many other people did too; my social media feed became filled with answers to questions, strange images, and voice imitations all generated by AI.

Like many people, for better or worse, I spend a lot of time online. To me, the acceptance and growth of AI seemed to happen really, really fast. I started seeing new genres of images and videos popping up on my feed which I learned were AI. My first memorable encounters with the technology were videos of politicians playing Minecraft and images generated by prompting Dall-E, an AI model that converts text to images, with strange requests.

Learning about AI, especially ChatGPT, I expected it to take over menial, mind-numbing tasks. The stereotypical paperwork, data entry, and email reading that no one really wants to do. Unfortunately, my optimism was short-lived; it withered away as I found out about the issues that AI poses.

As I became more familiar with AI, I grew fearful of those who used it to create some pretty dark content. You’ve most likely encountered deep-fakes: images, audio, or videos that manipulate people’s likeness to portray something that didn’t happen. They’re super unsettling. I saw people falling victim to this technology, from getting duped by political disinformation to having their identity used in deep-fake pornography. 

I also started noticing more behaviors I found concerning, even if they weren’t overtly negative. I saw people turn towards AI to fulfill their social needs; Chatbots became therapists, friends, and even romantic partners. You may have encountered apps like Replika, who market themselves as “the AI companion who cares.” With the rise in these AI confidants and human imitators, my unfounded discomfort was validated. I came to understand that these messages were feeding the machine, and the people’s secret thoughts were being collected and diffused into the algorithms.

I came to experience a deep distrust of the internet and a pretty depressing outlook on humanity. The invasion of privacy alone is a massive violation, but taking advantage of people who can’t draw the line between human and machine really got to me. AI companions in particular are designed to keep the user engaged. You’ve probably noticed that when you talk to them, there’s no contention, no nuance, no emotion. They respond instantly and are easily pushed to admitting mistakes. With no contention in the conversation, it’s frightening that people are relying on it like a friend. Challenge is a part of growth; it builds character. Engaging with a flattering yes-man who responds instantly with belief reinforcements is not a healthy behavior to develop. 

Coupled with my other gripes–that AI steals from artists, erodes critical thinking ability, and melts the earth–I came to be quite apprehensive. It feels like GenAI’s been integrated into every program. The unavoidable nature of AI filled me with a sense of guilt just for opening my browser and a darkness loomed over my laptop. For a while, I didn’t know how to cope with this feeling; the pit in my stomach seemed to be the new normal.

Alt text: Man in a green shirt sitting at a desk in an office stands up, grabs a baseball bat, and uses it to smash his computer.

Thankfully, a shift in perspective was the first step to relieving this dissonance. Some reflection helped me shine some light through the smog of AI slop. What I needed was the realization that I’ve got to take time to appreciate humanity–and try my best to stay as far away from AI as possible.

With this new outlook, I’ve come to value parts of my life that I would normally dismiss or take for granted. Not that I didn’t appreciate my friends before, but I’ve come to treasure every interaction so much more. For one, their words aren’t simply responses to myself. There’s time and thought that goes into what they say. Even in times when they might blurt out something without thinking, there are years of development and experiences that led them to say those certain words in that certain way. I see the light in their smiles, their laughs, and the way they talk. They are all unique and nuanced in a way that AI will never be able to replicate.

And it’s not just my friends that have touched my heart. I see the light in those brief interactions with strangers in the line at the grocery store and in passing on the street. Every individual has their own millions of experiences that guide every decision they make. They were not programmed to help others or complement those around them, but still, it happens; I’ve made a point to do more of that myself in hopes that others will have the same appreciation.

I think most importantly, I’ve started to see the light in myself. My thoughts, my work, and my mistakes are my own. This revelation shines especially bright in my art. When I was in high school, I took AP Art with the intention of submitting my work to be scored. As I worked on my pieces, the idea of flaws in my art ate away at me until the idea of not getting a perfect score killed any passion I had. Despite the hours and emotions I put into my work, I ended up rescinding my submission.

I regret that now. I’ve come to see the value in making mistakes. It gives me a baseline to grow from. It gives me a goal to work toward. It gives me purpose. It’s part of being human. Creativity is not something that can be coded. Imperfections are inherent. The value of art is in the reaction it generates and the emotions it conjures. 

I’ve been fortunate enough to have attended many concerts in my lifetime, and most of them have ended with me in tears. If you’re as lucky as me, you know the feeling of the music coming through the amplifiers and the roar of the crowd. There’s just something about it that really gets to me. I don’t even actually have to be there–even the Super Bowl had me crying at my TV screen. While I know there’s a biological influence, I’ve been looking deeper into what drives such an intense reaction. There’s something more to it: humanity.

To see people united over a common interest magnifies how special humans are. In the overwhelming emotional frenzy of live events, I’ve seen crowds part in order to help people who pass out. I’ve seen people gushing over each other’s outfits. I’ve seen people dancing and singing with strangers. These interactions develop who we are. They guide our thoughts and decisions and actions. They are what makes us human. 

My point is, if you do feel the need to use AI, let it be your last resort. Turn to humans first. To art, to literature, to music. Nothing can compete with human knowledge, creativity, and interaction. I find that going to others for help is infinitely more impactful than whatever AI has to offer. A human response is always going to be more impactful. Our experiences, both shared and otherwise, are why our thoughts and creations are infinitely more valuable than that of a machine.