Subscribe
Share
Share
Embed
Welcome. I’m Easter Ellen.
I write stories, reflections, and imagined entire worlds. Some are arguably true, some are suspiciously borrowed from memory, some are robustly exaggerated, and some are made up entirely from the pure delight of imagining.
Mostly, I write what persists stubbornly enough that I can no longer ignore it.
If you enjoy these pieces, subscribe so you do not miss the next one.
You can find more of my writing, reflections, audio pieces, and creative work at easterellen.com.
You can also find me on YouTube at EasterEllen, where I share longer stories, thoughts, and conversations about change, choice, self-trust, and moving forward.
Welcome. I’m Easter. I love stories - the funny ones, the tender ones, the strange little ones that show up with something to say. Today’s story is called…
I Think I Broke ChatGPT
ChatGPT had a few surprises for naïve me. Until I broke it.
Ok fine, I will try that stupid thing my son keeps telling me to try when I need to look something up. He’s so rude. No explanation, just a dry, barely-tolerating-me-again, repeated: “try ChatGPT”.
“Did you try ChatGPT? Don’t ask me again; ask ChatGPT… Mom… don’t bother… You know what I am going to say.”
Fine.
“Honey, what was the name of that thing that you told me to use for Google?”
“It is not Google Mom.”
“Ok, whatever… what is it?”
“Well, there are different models.”
A had a wave of confusion because Victoria’s Secret did not seem to fit what he was saying… “Oh, my God! Why, just why is a Google called a model????? What the actual???”
“You could use this Chinese one called… I am not sure, maybe Qwen or there is another French one for open source. Open source can be… “
I was drumming on the desk in a hard TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP! My voice was on the edge of anger. **_“Can you please just tell me what to do and stop speaking another language?”_**
I softened to the dumb mom needs her son badly tone. “Actually, honey, can you just type it in for me? This is making me feel really stupid.”
My son rolled his eyes, “Just look up ChatGPT.com.”
_Grrrrr….. stubborn mule_.
Ok fine. I will do it myself. I am bright; I figured out how to raise four kids. This can’t be that hard.
Wait. How do I find it?
Oh! Silly me! Of course… Google it. I am feeling brighter already.
My fingers dance on the keyboard (still shocked at how effortless the keys are compared to a typewriter). “What is ChatGPT?”
I am aghast.
I stare at the screen at some long-ass large language model explanation. Wait, this is wrong. I am not looking up anything to do with language. I refresh the page and type it again. Same result. I lean in. I see words. Words that I recognize as English, but that are so tangled that they have become a sublanguage that someone decidedly did not introduce me to.
I squint my eyes and furrow my brow. Maybe it will help me focus more. Why could I not understand this?
No. I figured it out. This was simply English pretending to be English.
Yok.
Google failed me again. Stupid, stupid Google. It actually made ME feel stupid. Who can’t look up something without 20 wrong ways to look it up first? If I want bangs, it shows me car accidents! If I ask for how to map my thoughts, I receive literal maps of Ivy League universities.
I have another brilliant thought; I love when I have these. I type in “ChatGPT.com” and wait.
A fairly bleak page stares at me with a little typing space. “Hi, what can I do for you?”
Tap, tap, tap. “Bangs for older women”
I get a scroll of letters suddenly filling themselves up in real-time on my screen. “Are you asking this for fine or thick hair “
I shake my head. What?
Think… think…. think….
“Honey, can you come here??????”
He actually came.
“I feel I did something wrong. Is this normal????? Did I do the search wrong?
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“Well, I asked about hair, and it is asking me about hair back.”
My face turned twenty shades of red, and I felt hot. “I think I broke it.”
He bellows.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Mom, it is an LLM.”
“FOR PETE’S SAKE, CAN YOU STOP SAYING THAT???”
“Mom, calm down. It is supposed to answer you back. It makes sure that it is giving the correct answer.
“It is AI.”
Well, that threw me for a loop! “AI???? Like in the movies where robots take over the planet?”
He laughs so hard he has tears. This is so not right. “No, Mom, not like in the movies. It is trained to have conversations with you.
_Conversations with me? What???_
“Whatever! Can I please look up how to do my hair?”
“Then ask it.”
Honey, that is the problem. I did! And then I broke it. It didn’t answer me. It asked me a question back.”
I was so embarrassed.
“Did you answer?”
“Of course not! That is just… just so wrong! Answer a computer??? No. That is not what computers are supposed to do.”
“Mom”, (sigh…) “Just answer.”
“Ugh, fine!”
My fingers did not fly. I was not sure how to ask a computer a question after it had asked me a question.
I was NOT smiling.
**_Author’s note:_** This is Part 1 of many. I have since learned to answer the computer. I still don’t like it.