Philosophy, Thoughts, and Musings – Page 30

Overestimating Abilities: A Continuing Trend Moves into the World of Academia

This short observation notes that professors and many others believe they can identify AI-assisted writing based on vocabulary use, such as “delve,” “interplay,” “intricate,” and “captivated.” The writer reflects on using such words since the 1980s, suggesting subconscious AI use and critiques modern educators for favoring simplistic writing over complex prose. Additionally, he discusses the modern tendency to overestimate individual abilities in various tasks, such as pandemic response and legal document writing.

Earlier this morning, I read an article asserting that many professors are confident in their innate ability to identify papers authored with the assistance of CHATGPT and similar artificial intelligence tools. The article’s comments section revealed widespread agreement among its readers that they could do the same. It appears that one of the primary indicators of AI-generated content in their collective minds is the use of certain vocabulary, including words such as “delve,” “interplay,” “intricate,” and “captivated.”

This conclusion struck me as somewhat amusing, as it suggests that I have been subconsciously employing artificial intelligence in my writing since the 1980s. It seems AI must have been implanted in my psyche at birth, only to be activated when I commenced my collegiate writing endeavors. Upon reviewing several of my papers from that era, as well as some recent compositions, I noticed the word “delve” frequently appearing, often within the introductory paragraph. By contemporary academic standards, it appears I would be accused of plagiarism frequently, and without merit, by today’s professors, whom I consider to be lacking in literacy, vocabulary, and style.

These modern educators seem to favor a style of writing that is monosyllabic and nearly without style, characterized by grunts and groans, rather than the intricate and complex prose that I believe leads to captivating reading and meaningful conclusions.

It further reminds me of the modern predilection of individuals to overestimate their ability to perform almost any task, whether it be land an airplane, conduct research on how best to respond to pandemics (as opposed to, say, listening to individuals who studied for years at University on the topic), or writing that complex legal document that attorneys labor for hours to write precisely to avoid unpleasant surprises later even if it seems like something anyone should be able to jot off in minutes.

The Marvel of Dragonflies: Symbolism and Beauty

This sunny July morning, a dragonfly graced my backyard, flitting about in the sun. These creatures are truly marvelous, appearing as if crafted eons ago with a design that defies flight. They are unequivocally my favorite insect. Their ability to hover, dart, and flit brings me endless delight, matched only by their enthralling colors.

Facts worth knowing: Before they take flight as dragonflies, living for only about six months, they spend anywhere from two months to five years or more as larvae in the water. Their remarkable flying abilities are considered by some to symbolize poise and elegance. According to the beliefs of others, encountering a dragonfly flitting around you signifies impending change, while one landing on your person is seen as a sign of good fortune. Exploring the dragonfly’s symbolism online or at the library reveals countless interpretations, both auspicious and inauspicious.

Stenciled Velvet, c. 1902–10. Tiffany Studios. (America, New York, 1902–1932) Designer, Dorothy Marshall Hornblower (American, 1886–1968). Cleveland Museum of Art.

For my part, I hold the dragonfly in such high regard that I have included it in my personal emblem, preferring it over more traditional images, such as lions and crosses. This preference stems from its ability to achieve flight—an improbable feat given its construction. For me, the dragonfly represents not only the triumph of grace over physics but also the boundless possibilities inherent in life if only one dares to try.

Inspired by the dragonfly I saw earlier, I attempted the following poem:

Dragonfly with Wings of Sheen

In morning’s golden light it flies,
A creature from ancient skies,
Dragonfly, with wings of sheen,
In hues of emerald and marine.

Born of water, from nymph to winged sprite,
To dance on air, in pure delight,
With grace that mocks the laws of earth,
They flit and dart, in joyous mirth.

Their eyes, like gems, do catch the sun,
As through the reeds they deftly run,
A world of beauty in their flight,
A fleeting glimpse of pure delight.

O dragonfly, in summer’s glow,
Your dance of life, a magic show,
A whisper from a distant age,
With every wingbeat, nature’s sage.

So fragile yet so strong and free,
A marvel of biology,
In every swoop, in every leap,
A secret of the waters deep.

Fly on, dear dragonfly, so grand,
Across the waters, o’er the land,
In every glint, we see in you,
A symbol of resilience true.

Celestial Reflections: Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star Latin Translation

Exploring the translation of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” into Latin after creating additional stanzas for the rhyme, I was inspired by the contemporary Celtic music sound provided by Udio.com. The resulting creation, “Celestial Reflections,” is set to a Celtic vibe by Udio. This linguistic and musical endeavor is documented in a video titled “Reflexiones Caelestes” on Youtube. The link to the video is provided.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com

Occasionally attempting to translate simple English into easy Latin (with the assistance of memory, dictionaries, and software), and being quite taken with the contemporary Celtic sound of the music on Udio.com, I thought I would translate Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star into Latin, adding two additional stanzas of my own creation to the first one, and see what it sounded like when set to a Celtic vibe on Udio. “Celestial Reflections” (“Reflexiones Caelestes”) is the result.

“Celestial Reflections – Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”

My Latin is crude and rough, I admit. My first stanza is:

Micat, micat, parva stella,
Quam miror quid sis bella!
Sursum supra mundi alti,
Sicut gemma in caelo.

The American Classical League’s translation of the first stanza, which I looked up after I did my translation, is:

Mica, Mica, parva stella;
Miror quaenam sis tam bella.
Splendens eminus in illo,
Alba velut gemma caelo.

The differences are intriguing, as the second line in my translation, “How I wonder/marvel at what a beauty you are!”, contrasts with the League’s rendering, “I wonder what makes you so beautiful.” My third line, “Up above the world so high,” differs from the League’s “Shining afar in that place.” Similarly, my fourth line, “like a gem in the sky,” contrasts with the League’s “white like a gem in the heavens.” The primary distinction lies in the League’s effort to rhyme the Latin words, a technique I did not employ. Additionally, the League chose to specify the gem as explicitly white, enhancing its resemblance to a diamond. Such nuances underscore the divide between scholars and an amateur such as myself!

For those interested, the English translation of the two additional stanzas I added may be as follows:

Twinkle, twinkle, purest star, Your radiant form, Through the night you give brilliance, You make a path through the darkness.

Twinkle, twinkle, bright star, In the rare celestial path, You shine with eternal light, You tint the night with sweet sleep.

Poetic Reflections: Exploring the Fortress of the Mind

In “L’attente (Waiting) [2004]” by Gao Xingjian, the author finds an appropriate artwork to illustrate his reflections on retreating into a world of words as a sanctuary from the harsh external world, but also as a form of self-imposed isolation. The poem expresses the duality of words as both protection and confinement, shaping the author’s existence, reflecting a life intertwined with letters, sheltered yet constrained by the fortress of his mind.In “L’attente (Waiting) [2004]” by Gao Xingjian, the author finds an appropriate artwork to illustrate his reflections on retreating into a world of words as a sanctuary from the harsh external world, but also as a form of self-imposed isolation. The poem expresses the duality of words as both protection and confinement, shaping the author’s existence, reflecting a life intertwined with letters, sheltered yet constrained by the fortress of his mind.

*L’attente* (Waiting) [2004] by Gao Xingjian (b. 1940).

As I am confounded by life now, as I was in my youth, I retreat, as always, into a world of words, written on pages and assembled in books. These books surround me, forming walls that at times serve as battlements, the fortifications protecting me from the external perils of an incomprehensible, harsh, and hostile world, or so I tell myself. In other moments, however, these same walls are the confines of a cell, isolating me in solitude, depriving me of the air, sustenance, and human interactions necessary to life and sanity. Thus, the world of words is both my sanctuary and prison.

Of course, playing the poet much of late, and a bad one at that, I transmogrified the above thoughts, into the following:

I retreat, as always, into words,
Pages inked and bound in books,
Encircled by these silent guards,
My fortress walls, my quiet nooks.

At times they stand as battlements,
Shielding me from the world’s disdain,
A citadel where reason reigns,
Against the chaos, fear, and pain.

Yet oft they turn to prison walls,
Confines of a solitary cell,
Where air and sustenance are scarce,
And human warmth does not dwell.

This paradox my soul sustains,
A life in letters intertwined,
Sheltered by and yet constrained,
By the fortress of my mind.

A Crash of Memories on the Sighting of the First Lightning Bug of Summer

On Sunday evening, as the sun had just receded and I returned home, I found myself in my backyard. There, I witnessed the flicker of light from the tail of a lightning bug, the first I had seen this summer. In that instant, a crash of childhood memories, from so many decades ago, flooded my mind. It is remarkable how a single sight, much like a familiar smell, can trigger memories from so long ago.

The next morning, still smiling from the memories elicited by that twinkle in the night, I quickly sketched out the recollections that had cascaded through my mind in that luminous instant. I then spent a little time shaping them into form. For better or for worse, here is the result. I imagine only my siblings can fully appreciate these memories, as they are so deeply family-centric.

Memory Fragments of a Mahoning Valley Childhood

In the heart of summer, lightning bugs glowed bright,
Church festivals thrived, Saint Luke’s, Saint Pat’s in the night.
The Canfield Fair’s grand end of summer delight,
A crush of people, crash-up derby, under starry twilight.

Handel’s Ice Cream, a seasonal treasure so sweet,
A&W root beer floats, a frothy, chilled treat.
Sunday drives through Mill Creek Park’s serene retreat,
Fresh bread’s aroma from Schwebel’s bakery street.

Poulakos donuts after Sunday mass, divine,
Pierogies with butter and onions, St. Stan’s line.
Idora Park’s Wild Cat, Jack Rabbit in summertime,
Learning to swim at the downtown Y, feeling fine.*

Downtown shopping at Woolworth and Strouss, a spree,
Barney Bean, Gilligan’s Island, and more on TV.
Isaly’s chip chop ham sandwiches, more than we’d plea,
Dad’s Friday night football games on AM frequency.

Bowling leagues, Dusi Music, Conti Dance’s beat,
Mom at ceramics studio, weekly meet.
Family dinners nightly when Dad came home to eat,
Vegetable garden’s bounty, homegrown treats so neat.

Bicycles, unicycles, basketballs in the drive,
Chalk drawings, sandboxes, tree forts where dreams thrive.
Imagination abundant, throughout the neighborhood we’d roam,
Mahoning Valley memories, forever our home.

*In truth, I disliked the swimming lessons at the Y, the water was so cold that I shivered incessantly, teeth chattering and lips turning blue, every lesson — oh, and let me tell you that the smell of chlorine was overwhelming!