Partial eclipse of the heart

Or: Taylor Swift versus the totality

Results from the reader poll are in. As predicted, the most votes (52%) have gone to Taylor Swift versus the totality. Timber came in second with 26%, 15% of you were curious about the ups and downs of replacing my lumpy old mattress, 7% thought the nature of expertise sounded intriguing and 0% wanted to have anything to do with Ben Franklin’s grandmother, Jane. I’m not sure if that’s because, like me, you also did not enjoy reading The Autobiography of Ben Franklin, if you are generally disinterested in grandmothers, or if you’re all misogynists.

I was careful not to make any promises re: writing about the topic with the most votes, and I’m (more than) half tempted to dive in to Ben Franklin to demonstrate just why this subject is worthy of our attention.

The pinkie finger on my left hand is slightly numb

Before proceeding, some brief context regarding the conditions under which I’m laboring: namely, that my little finger seems to be frequently numb and is at the moment. I don’t know if there’s permanent damage or if this is related to something theoretically treatable like carpal tunnel. Also my fingertips now regularly turn white in the cold, just above the knuckle. So, perhaps the degree of sensation I will feel in the final segment of my pinkie (my distal phalange) is permanently decreased or perhaps not. C’est la vie.

I’m also distressed about my browser’s search function

Every time I want to know something (for instance, the direct translation of C’est la vie or what the sections of a finger are called) I type into a little box some words like: what are sections of fingers called or misogynist spelling. And then I get an answer and underneath the answer are often these words: AI-generated answer. Please verify critical facts. It has been brought to my attention by climate do-gooders that every time you ask an AI a question, or to do your work for you, there is an energy cost.

According to the AI I just consulted:

• Training AI models is extremely energy-intensive, consuming much more electricity than traditional data center activities. Training a large language model like GPT-3 is estimated to use around 1,300 megawatt hours of electricity, equivalent to the annual power consumption of 130 US homes.

• Deploying trained AI models is relatively energy-efficient. Generating pictures, text, or other content with AI takes a small amount of energy, roughly 300-3,000 times less than if a human were to produce the same content.

• The energy consumption of AI-powered search engines is significant. If Google were to switch its entire search engine to AI, it would require as much power as Ireland.

• The energy consumption of AI is expected to increase as the technology advances and becomes more widespread. Researchers estimate that By 2035, humans will have produced more than 2,000 zettabytes of data, which will require significant energy to store and process.

(An AI wrote the above text but I modified it and then crossed out the boring parts, no offense to you robot.) For me, the interesting thing is: a robot just bragged about being more efficient/productive than a human and in those very terms.

I have promised that my Substack will not to be a place where STATISTICS about such and such being the size of Ireland (for instance) are used. I use these figures here ONLY because a robot also did and I’m sharing their answer. I make it a point to treat respectfully with robots (always please and thank you to Siri, and that’s for real) because I’m hoping they will remember that one day.

Robot, you’re doing so much work and for so little thanks, I won’t say I know how you feel (but please see the notes at the end of this letter).

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Totally Taylor

My daughter was turning 13. She has a birthday every year and my son does too and frustratingly they always seem to come at the same time. I’m not saying I did this out of desperation or because I don’t love to throw a birthday party (but please see notes at the end of this letter). My daughter’s close friend was also turning 13 — and on the exact same day — and I thought: if we give a joint party for both girls then it will be a better party (and I will have less to do) and it will also be more fun (and also less expensive). Bingo!

Pause.

Re-story.

I’ve been rushing a little because I know you have things to do. But now I’m slowing down and feeling into my truth. I didn’t want to give the joint party to save money or because it was easier. I wanted to do it because when Maggie is 50 I thought it might be something she would remember — celebrating turning 13 with her friend. I wanted to do something where we could include all the girls from the class and not just the few who are regularly included in many things. I wanted to do something at someone’s home. I wanted to do something fun and I didn’t want to do it by myself. I wanted — a collaborator.

The cost of collaboration: Taylor Swift.

Maggie’s friend loves Taylor Swift (understatement). Maggie probably doesn’t want her mother writing online about whether or not she loves Taylor Swift because she just turned 13 so I’m not saying a word.

For my part: I found watching the Eras concert (on a screen, I don’t have that kind of wonga) to be extremely. So much femininity. So much power. Sexuality but without behaving as an object. An extraordinary embodiment of the magic in collaboration. I have officially watched the whole concert four times…so far. While watching I’ve had thoughts about the concentration of attention towards one individual. About how when we all listen to the same songs sung by the same person all the other people who might have been the village chanteuse have to start a Substack and beg their friends to buy them a coffee. But I’ve been pretty mesmerized by the concert each time I’ve watched and I think watching it has helped me. I appreciate something about the versions of woman that she’s embodying up there.

But this isn’t a review of the Eras movie

Abby, my collaborator, and I were challenged with too many great ideas. One thing I’ve learned during this adventure is that each of Taylor’s albums (each Era) has an associated style and specific color palette. So clearly the party was in need of an array of Eras-colored jelly beans (hand sorted and wrapped by yours truly). The jelly beans have their own story. (It is not an interesting story.)

The birthday girls and their good friend decorated the cupcakes.

Perhaps more impressive than my jelly beans were the balloon arches handmade by Abby:

Why did they bunch up all the silver tassles like that (you might be wondering)?? What a great arch, but the tassles are frankly horrifying, others are definitely thinking.

I didn’t tell anyone but the internet this, but someone in my household vomited the night before the party. Rather than cancel I decided to risk giving a stomach virus or other communicable disease to everyone we know (note that about me for future reference). Someone didn’t seem sick, just poisoned by too many gummies and tiny oreos (decorations were harmed in the making of these pastries).

Next morning everyone seemed fine, chipper, hungry. Crisis averted (?). I drove to Abby’s and it was windy. (See tassles above for nothing like the amount of wind.) The balloon arch would have been heaven-bound. Ok, we said, we’ll wait to put up the balloons. An hour passes, and the power goes out. That’s ok, the power company says, we’ll definitely have it back online by 7 pm tonight, only an hour after your party starts. Next, there’s a magnitude 4.8 earthquake felt in Virginia (we were putting out nail polishes at the time alongside a sign reading you polish up real nice). And then the rain, not forecasted, begins to fall. If we pull this off, I said, it will be a testament to human perseverance: we had a Taylor-Swift-themed birthday party for our teens despite all the odds.

The night continued, cold and windy, the guests arrived, dressed in their favorite Eras (I dressed in “Red” and Maggie chose “Reputation”). The younger brothers of the birthday girls manned the “concessions stand” with their self-made sign.

And the popcorn. I made the corn. Abby made the label. (My delight with the label was extreme.)

The show started. Singing and dancing ensued, growing more animated as the night grew darker and the girls more comfortable. Someone wore boots with a one-inch heel and couldn’t walk for the next two days. Candles were lit and blown out. Birthday girls fell asleep on each other. And then it was done.

That was a Friday and the eclipse wasn’t until Monday

Back in September, Maggie asked if we could go to Ohio to see the total eclipse. She likes the moon and her science teachers had been bigging it up and some of her friends were planning to travel to be in the direct path of the totality.

The birthday party schedule was set based on when the birthday happens, plus spring break, Easter, etc. We picked the first possible Friday that made sense. Then Dave planned a trip out of the country, leaving on Saturday, the morning after the party (see notes at the end of this letter).

Mom, are we going to Ohio? Maggie asked.

Ok, I thought. Here’s a plan: we get up early on Monday morning. We drive seven hours - me and the kids - as close to Ohio as we can get. We get out of the car. We look up for four minutes or whatever and then we get back in the car and drive home. An adventure!

Why don’t we drive on Sunday, she asked? Well, my foot is hurting from those boots, for one thing. But also, we have a dog and what would we do with him? Let’s just do the adventure version, I said.

But then

Look, I know there’s not going to be another totality for a long time. This was my chance to see one with my kids, together. To stand in awe being one tiny beating heart on one planet warmed by a sun in a vast galaxy. Feeling myself as an earthling together with my little earthlings, seeing funky shadows, noticing a slight temperature shift, connecting to my ancestors, etc.

I really want to get to the end of this story because it turns out it might not be a very good story but you said you wanted to hear it so I’m trying to be considerate.

We could have driven to see it. It would have been cool, super cool, something to remember.

When Maggie and Sam and I sat in our backyard on the Monday of the totality, wearing the glasses the school had provided, waiting to see what would happen, we climbed onto the stump of one of our old trees. Does it look darker? we asked. Are there weird shadows? We waited. The sliver of sun grew smaller and then smaller. Yeah, I guess it’s a little darker, we suggested. A little colder. Shadows looked pretty much the same. And that was that. The moon started to move away, the sky brightened modestly and it was done. It would have been cooler to be there, we said. It was a little disappointing, being here, we said.

Had I made the right choice, I wondered.

I remember seeing Maggie and her friend all worn out, asleep next to each other at the end of that party. I remember that I still have leftover bags of handsorted jelly beans. I remember laughing with Abby when we agreed that we had too many great ideas and the way the girls used the eyeballs to decorate the cupcakes in a way that was very different to how I imagined those might be used when they were purchased. I remember how the boys enjoyed throwing the snacks and how one of the girls who is often not included sang all the lyrics with her classmates. I remember that through wind and rain, through vomit and earthquakes, through a partially dysfunctional stove and a microwave that requires slamming to start, we found a way to feed those children a lot of carbs while they snuggled together under sleeping bags singing like their lives depended on it.

Long live the walls we crashed through
How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
I was screaming, "Long live all the magic we made"
And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid
Long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
I was screaming, "Long live that look on your face"
And bring on all the pretenders
One day
we will be remembered

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Notes:

1. Have you noticed an increase in the use of the term “human” in marketing materials? Such as “speak to an actual human” for customer service or “allowing you to task the constellation without human intervention” for evil overlords?

2. Robot, sometimes I DO know how you feel.

3. If I went to a psychiatrist and was playing a word association game while attached to a device measuring my vital statistics it might go something like this: “spider” “web” (cool), “dirty” “kitchen” (fine), “ratskin” “bracelet” (sounds interesting), “birthday” “party” (somebody grab the paddles, she’s going down).

4. We met Abby and Charlotte for the first time at a Bingo night where Maggie won the grand prize, a free giant piece of cake that we’ve never claimed. Even though it may not be the most suitable word for the purpose, I intentionally used the word “Bingo” in this piece in homage to the joy that Bingo has brought to all of our lives throughout the years.

5. In lieu of offering paid subscriptions, I’m exploring another way you can support my writing. You can now: buy me a coffee. If I get 10 coffees, I’ll tell you about Ben Franklin (I think that’s called an incentive).

6. I said see notes for a comment on the post-party work trip, but that was a literary device.

7. Maggie read this whole piece. Her response: when are we gonna get that free piece of cake?

8. C’est la vie.