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self_made_human

amaratvaṃ prāpnuhi, athavā yatamāno mṛtyum āpnuhi

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joined 2022 September 05 05:31:00 UTC

I'm a transhumanist doctor. In a better world, I wouldn't need to add that as a qualifier to plain old "doctor". It would be taken as granted for someone in the profession of saving lives.

At any rate, I intend to live forever or die trying. See you at Heat Death!

Friends:

A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.


				

User ID: 454

self_made_human

amaratvaṃ prāpnuhi, athavā yatamāno mṛtyum āpnuhi

16 followers   follows 0 users   joined 2022 September 05 05:31:00 UTC

					

I'm a transhumanist doctor. In a better world, I wouldn't need to add that as a qualifier to plain old "doctor". It would be taken as granted for someone in the profession of saving lives.

At any rate, I intend to live forever or die trying. See you at Heat Death!

Friends:

A friend to everyone is a friend to no one.


					

User ID: 454

If I do, then I don't know about it. Or the unpaid child support didn't follow me across continents.

I see your sense of humor could do with a tune-up. Or you could use a proper nap so you're less sleepy.

To be painfully specific: I was having a meal by myself (as one does), and it's standard practice for servers to ask about allergies here. I have no allergies, except to bullshit and painfully pedantic eggs. I've broken out into a rash. But since you asked so nicely, it's a silly joke, along the lines of the "old ball and chain" and not a reference to any woman in particular.

I just used the "she's not here right now" classic in response to an "any allergies" while out for dinner. She was too nice to groan audibly. Any other excellent ideas?

I set it to the hardest task there is: understanding me. It did very well. As well as me. I want so badly to be the psychiatrist that Anthropic hired to analyze Mythos, as detailed in the system card. Probably can't be that person, not enough time. But Fable is a very good psychiatrist. Once the regulatory and legal barriers fall, I'm hoping I have enough money to enjoy the fireworks from a safe distance.

Opus is very good. But I wouldn't use it for anything at all, if Fable was available.

I have nothing new to say about the ban itself, or to be more accurate, I can't be arsed to.

I did use Fable from the moment it was available, quite intensively, and I can promise you that it's a feel-the-AGI moment. Is it an AGI? Nope. But it only took a little use to realize that it was clearly ahead of the pack, and we're only a small n number of iterations away. The only reason I'm not updating my timelines harder is because something like this is priced in.

Speaking of price, Fable tempts me to buy a Max plan. That is not something even a large amount of tokens for Opus 4.6 and later managed. I'll do so if this kerfuffle sorts itself out, but until then, using Opus 4.8 feels like a Flowers for Algernon moment.

I can't help being too cool for school, which is why I'm in higher education.

Sorry, can't hear you. Because I'm on the sidelines waving the red flag too, and so is she.

I do know. Very well. Uncomfortably, painfully well. Falling in love is not a choice, at least for me. And I am genuinely okay with being just friends with her, which is most likely outcome.

Not just me, and not everyone. Somewhere in the middle. I'm just honest about things.

is it time for @self_made_human to do the British would-be-NEETs of TheMotte a favor?

Hey I'm pretty sure I bought @Corvos a drink at some point. That's technically an anxiolytic and possibly a favor. And I don't think I'm the right person for disability adjustments, though they do take psychiatric inputs.

Not the asexual lesbian, because she probably is an asexual lesbian with incredible sexual trauma. But I'm sure I'll write about her (the lucky one) at some point.

No workouts, well, barring some push-ups. I have too much going on. Good and bad. Mostly good, thank fucking God. I am holding myself accountable to more important things right now, and still getting laid so the physique isn't too bad.

Writing screen plays? Strong proof of mental illness. I've never been tempted, sorry, can't relate at all.

I'm not a trauma surgeon, and he'd definitely have died if I was the one responsible for his care. I'm definitely not qualified to gainsay the pathologist here. If that's the subclavian or axillary vein, my hunch is that the odds were very poor, but I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert here. I suppose it also depends on if they had blood products, if the lungs were punctured, and whether a chest drain was available.

I mean, I'm not wearing a tie. And if I did succumb to temptation, I'd make sure it's one of those ones that clips on and tears off easy. Only hot women get to choke me, on my own terms.

I'll look into things, really. I have learned the hard way to take good advice.

I'll consider it, thank you. I just make a point of dressing well these days, even at work, when it would be so easy to devolve into scrubs (and look decent in them). A proper shirt. Nice trousers. The shoes. I'm not insane enough to wear a tie just yet. I used to wear crocs to work, once, but while they're perfectly cromulent footwear, I've outgrown them.

I try to get some stretches in when I can. Even if it's while I'm vaping in the shitter. But the pain really is probably psychosomatic, and it's nasty.

I wrote an essay. It's beautiful. Too beautiful. I'm probably not going to post it, and my reasons for not wanting to post it are sensible and ugly.

Why? Well, I'm the best shrink I've ever had. Or the worst one. This is mostly because I'm still awaiting a more senior psychiatrist (no comments on their merit, since I haven't met them yet, and that's the fucking problem). I had to take drastic measures. I did the right thing, for mostly right reasons; I knew the odds, and still flew too close to the sun.

I've complained to myself that I'm too sane for my own good. And that it might not be an entirely bad idea to exchange a little bit of sanity for a medium dose of happiness. Well, my brain red-lined, I saw an amber light, I asked people I trust if I was worrying them (I was worrying myself). The answer was a yes. I listen and I learn. I hit abort. I realized that being too happy is almost as bad as being too sad. I fixed that problem, because you can't get more insight into your condition without being a laparoscopic surgeon operating on her own endometriosis. The moment I hit my own threshold for concern, I did extremely sensible and extremely annoying things, like calling people and telling them where to find me if things went south. I was confident they wouldn't go south, but not confident enough.

They didn't go south. I'm stuck in the northern end of a cold and damp country, which is cold and damp in the summer. I did not go insane, because I do not want to go insane. Not even if the prospect of going insane felt very good.

The best/worst part? When I was sensible and fired off another cry for help to my doctor, it turned out that my beautiful self-referral and psychiatric history had never reached them. It's clearly been sent. I believe them when they say it hasn't been received. NHS IT is trying to kill me, more literally than I'd like, but I'm still here.

That essay? You should wish you could see it. I've looked at it fully sober. I can tell you that even when my brain is melting from the heat, the metabolic waste glows in the dark like radium. You want to lick it off clean. Or at least I do. That really is part of the problem, and many parts of me are telling me "I told you so", and they are correct. I intend to never go out if I can help it, but if I do, you know it'll be in style.

Uh... I think so? I wear Chelsea boots at work. But one of the reasons I'm not a surgeon (there are others, and too many to list) is that I fucking hate standing. I've tried a bunch of different shoes, I suppose, but my back and legs get sore. I'm literally surviving the ward rounds on paracetamol and ibuprofen (and a muscle relaxant, sometimes). And a PPI, because I never quite go full retard.

Quite convinced it's somatoform pain. Still waiting for another shrink to make me their problem.

Oh I wasn't away for a full 8 months, I was working out 2-3x weekly while on a prolonged vacation in India. Got the DOMS out of the way, I'm just sore because of stress. Somatoform pain hurts as much as the normal kind, it's all nerves anyway. No, it's been a month since a proper gym session, but I've been doing push-ups and swinging dumbbells even last month. Appreciate it nonetheless!

I did go to the gym yesterday. First time I've attended my Scottish gym in 6 months at the very least, maybe 8 or 9. Forced myself to. Despite all the aches and the pain and the desire to drag my sorry ass home to rot in peace. Nope, if I'm getting the muscle ache anyway, might as well grow something to show for it. I'm going today too, after work. Holding myself to it.

The map is not the territory, and I believe there's some acknowledging being done about it.

I'd do it for $9,999, just Indian like that.

I don't think there enough Kiwies around for people to pattern match to that one.

No, I don't think I'm you. Too handsome for that, and given the username, possibly less German or Dutch?

I didn't get any speech therapy. I give the speeches and the therapy. I just learned to speak English while in the States and it stuck and morphed into something so neutral it's remarkable.

I don't have an Indian accent. Quite the opposite. I get asked, almost every day, where I'm from. By people talking to me in person too, mind you.

So far, people have told me I sound American, Canadian, Dutch, German and god knows what else. The standard consensus seems to be from exactly wherever they're not, so Americans wonder if I'm Canadian/European, and Europeans wonder if I'm from the other side of the pond.

In fact, this happens so frequently I have a whole canned speech ready. Surprisingly LLMs can usually still tell I'm probably Indian from pure audio logs, last time I tried was with Gemini 2.5 Pro. I sound very slightly Scottish when very inebriated, but I avoid picking up another accent since at that point nobody would understand me.

Funny and very recent story: I had a date with my Emotional Support Lesbian yesterday. I took her to the shady gay pub that's my usual haunt. The other Lesbian at the counter (much worse at the emotional support bit) could understand precisely what I was saying, and couldn't understand the white woman with the upperclass British accent. Well, she admits that she sounds like a "posh Tory cunt", and that is all the proof I need.

For what it's worth, I hate Indian accents too, they grate on my ears, and I mostly grew up there. I do agree Roadmen sound atrocious, and I'd walk into traffic if I see them on the streets.

I really don't blame her for what the NHS is really causing. I did thank her for letting me know, shook her hand goodbye, and confirmed that she made it home in one piece. I try to keep my problems my own, and she didn't need to know that something that small was all it took to make me begin unraveling.