The Algorithm Bites the Hand that Feeds It

I feel confident that very few people continue to check-in and check-up on me on this website.

Perhaps it’s because I have broken the golden rule of content creation.

I have not been creating content.

And so, all of the history—all of my written Watson memory—fades into The Cloud—which I pay $2.99 monthly for.

To put it differently, I have not been feeding The Algorithm its daily bread and so The Algorithm does not bring the people to my words.

 But the algorithm bites the hand who feeds it? So, of course I stopped offering.  I stopped feeding it and started feeding myself.

And I have fed myself well, I think.

Nine months here in Argentina. A year cumulatively.

I can speak Spanish now. I am playing soccer again. I live in love’s abundance. I even started practicing yoga. (?) My soul and I are wholly inseverable.

I have fed myself full.

And I am ready to return stateside.

I am, however, terrified to lose the sunlight.

Come 2023 and I will have lived two years of my life without seeing the summer sun.

I can feel my body begging me to stay.

To which I tell my body: “but your tummy is full, you cannot eat much more here. “

To which it responds: “but at least I am tan.”

To which I respond: “but you have so many bug bites.”

To which it responds: “better than frost bites.”

To which I respond: “frost bite cannot be pluralized, but good try.”

I am not quite sure what I am writing here. I don’t feel like shouting much more.

My last update is that I am applying to all of these really bougie graduate programs and am looking forward to potentially moving to New Haven or the Bay Area with Sophia.

 :]

Vamos a ganar la copa mundial. (Argentina, not the USA.)

Capaz escribiré una vez más antes de irme.

I went to Brazil in August.

I am going to Uruguay next week for Thanksgiving.

Chau.

<3 Un beso, un abrazo

Sami