The Gentle Rebellion

Let’s talk about people who eat bananas with a fork. This is a real thing, and once you see it, you cannot unsee it. There are people in this world who don’t just peel a banana and eat it like a normal human being—no, no. They peel the banana just halfway, cut it into little pieces inside the peel, and then—brace yourself—eat it with a fork. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering if these are the same people who cut their sandwiches into perfect triangles and eat their pizza with a knife and fork, which, in my opinion, is some kind of crime against humanity. But, there’s something oddly fascinating about this banana-cutting crew.

For starters, there is a level of dedication here that borders on artistic. Picture it: you’re at breakfast, one of those trendy spots where oat milk costs extra. You see someone take a banana, and you expect the usual—peel, bite, done. But no, this person is different. They take their time. They peel it just enough to expose the banana but leave the peel on, like it’s some kind of protective cloak. Then, with a small paring knife, they slice it into bite-sized rounds right there in the skin, perfectly uniform, like tiny yellow medallions. And then, out comes the fork, and they delicately spear each piece, one at a time, as if eating anything directly with their hands would simply be too barbaric.

And you think to yourself, who has time for this? Who has the luxury of eating like this, of making a whole ritual out of something so simple, so mundane? But then you pause. Maybe it’s not about time. Maybe it’s about control. Control over the rush. Over the chaos. Over everything spinning too fast. Maybe they’ve figured something out that you haven’t. Maybe they know something you don’t.

The image of the banana and the fork lingers, like a tune that’s been playing softly in the background all day, the kind of thing you didn’t even realize was there. It stays with you. There’s a grace to it, a kind of deliberate gentleness that doesn’t quite fit into the world you know. It unsettles you. These people, the ones with their forks and their careful slices, they are rejecting the way most of us barrel through life. They’re making a quiet stand against the rush, against the mindless way we gulp things down without a second thought. And while the rest of us are speeding up, pushing faster, faster, they’re doing something different. They’re slowing down.

Maybe it’s the dawn of a new age, a gentle rebellion against the messiness we’re used to. A tiny, civilized defiance against the hurry. 

Maybe we should pause, too. Take stock of the things we barely notice, like bananas or whatever else we’re rushing through life. Maybe we all need to slow down, even if the moment feels a little off, even if it doesn’t make sense. Maybe that’s where the real living happens.

Here’s an image to process

There’s this wildly talented, slightly awkward kid called AI who just moved into the neighborhood. It’s got that raw, untapped creativity oozing out of its pores, like a puppy that hasn’t quite grown into its paws yet. He’s fast—faster than you, faster than me, faster than we’d like to admit. But that’s not why he’s here. AI is here for something a lot less scary and a lot more... well, human.

It’s like that kid who can solve a Rubik's Cube in under a minute but really just wants someone to play Legos with. AI can speed things up; but what it really wants to do is make things more interesting, more colorful, more unexpected. You know that feeling when you find an idea hidden in the back of your mind, in that dusty corner you haven’t checked in years? AI helps you find those ideas. And the reason we overlook them is that we’ve become these proper grown-ups, convinced we already know where to look, like the way you always leave your keys on the kitchen counter. You know where to look for them, so you stop checking anywhere else.

But AI just wants to play, really.

It’s here tugging at your sleeve, saying, “Hey, can we just mess around for a bit?” It wants you to stop treating it like some alien, space tool and start seeing it as a partner in crime. A co-conspirator in creativity. Play with it. Every day, for a little while. Like when you used to play tag with your cousins until the sun went down, or how you still do silly voices for your niece at family dinners, until one of the slightly tipsy uncles cracks a joke that’s so ridiculous, you start a business around it, and suddenly you’re the family legend.

So here’s the deal: play is where the real magic happens. That’s where your true genius comes out to stretch its legs. So, if you take AI by the hand and let it lead you, I can pretty much guarantee it’ll take you straight to that secret stash where Uncle Jim hides the good stuff. And sure, if you get caught, you’ll be in more trouble than you bargained for, but oh, the stories you’ll have.

Now, you could stay stuck on this notion, obsessing over how AI is all about efficiency, how it’s supposed to get you from process A to process B faster than ever before. But let’s be real: Do you, or anyone you know, get a thrill from faster processes? Or do you get excited when you stumble across something new that makes your eyes light up like you’ve just discovered fire? Yeah, I thought so.

Letting AI into your world is kind of like that Hemingway line about bankruptcy: it happens little by little, and then all at once. Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in strong emotions, wondering how you ever lived without this kid.

Your image is now fully processed, and this is what we’ve got: AI, the new kid in town, brimming with wild energy but still figuring things out. So be a good sport. Take the kid under your wing, show it around, let it be part of the gang. Who knows, maybe years from now, when this kid is all grown up and making headlines, it’ll look back and remember you were the one who didn’t act like it was the Joker out to get you.

And who knows, maybe it’ll even end up as your Batman, swooping in from the shadows of ordinary days, just when you need it most.

Oh, the irony. Dark thoughts are winning trophies and you want to get rid of them.

This is your gold, sit with it. Bad days can get you places.

Let those heavy thoughts take over—the ones that make you feel small, trapped, like your words are caught in a vice. Let them stack up, closing in around you like prison bars. Feel the images that flood your mind, vivid, detailed, generating faster than any AI could dream of. Say it out loud: ChatGPT on a lousy prompt spits out more than you can muster on your best days. Now you’re thinking: “I’m a fraud, folks. Lock me up and throw away the key.” Let those negative thoughts come all the way up to the surface, like ants at a picnic. Let them ruin everything.

And then, run.

Run as fast as you can and open that notebook. Open that laptop. Open that mind of yours. Those things closing in on you? They’re not prison bars. They are the lines of a page, and you’re about to write something on them. Don’t second-guess it—just type. Let the words spill out. Write like no one will ever read it. Write in the margins, between the lines, and keep going until the ink runs dry. Write thought your frantic fears, the boredom, the angry hopelessness and wanting to quit forever. Don’t worry if it’s ugly. Write it all—the raw, the rough, the ridiculous. You should know this: a flower doesn’t grow where it’s hard and thick; it blossoms where it’s muddy and filthy, and vulnerable. So just keep building, and when the wall is tall enough, forget all about it. Step as far away from it as you can. Drown your restless mind in cold showers. Swim for hours. Nap on bathroom floors if you have to. Find a place, any place, that feels like a sanctuary. But when you return, face that wall head-on. Look that bull right in the eye.

Gather all your negative thoughts and squeeze them for every single, juicy little bit they’ve got.

This is your gold.

Fear is a tool

Fear is a tool. One you can use to make AI movies, for example. 

This 39-second-long trailer took me only hours to make. So don’t expect miracles. But every frame in it? I made it from words alone. All AI videos, images, articles, you name it. They are all as good as your ability to use the prompts, and once you figure out how to get those right, there’ll be no stopping you. Now THAT’S scary.

Go on, make some art. Turn your fear into a weapon.

*Audio and voiceover & video script sourced from the Robert Pattinson-led original movie, The Batman.

Made with gpt, openart.ai and pika.ai