Recently when I tried to post a comment on a friend's blog, the prompt to enter the coded word was presented with the phrase "Please prove you are not a robot." Really? Hmmm there are oh so many ways I think I can do that!
My first thought was, well first and foremost, I CAN'T DO MATH!!! That's not entirely true- I'm not dumb, but math concepts do take a bit more from me than other subjects. Robots, on the other hand, experience very little stress when doing math. They probably even like it. If they could feel. More about that later.
Robots don't mind doing housework. Big difference there.
How many robots have a Facebook page? Hmmm? Ok - so maybe I am a little too attached to my Facebook activities. But it's the best way I have of seeing pictures of my granddaughter. Which begs the point that robots don't have grandchildren. Or even children! Which means they don't have gray hair either. Do they even have hair? But I digress....I was talking about Facebook addictions. Robots don't have addictions - so they can't know the joy of chocolate either. I'll just leave it at that one.
Robots don't have fun. Do they? I mean, how often did Rosie kick up her heels on the Jetsons? Heck - Rosie didn't even HAVE heels! She had wheels. I for one never saw her kick up her wheels. No amusement park adrenalin for a robot. Or building sandcastles. Might clog up the gears. A robot can't possibly have the rush I feel when I absolutely smear an opponent in Words With Friends or Taboo.
And then there are culinary delights. Or disgusts. No robot would share my disdain for the pungent smell and taste of liver, nor my dreamy-eyed infatuation with a really good truffle. Or my near worship experience of the prime rib at The Tavern restaurant. Or knee melting phenomenon of the chocolate mousse. Or the anticipation of German cinnamon roasted almonds at summer fairs. Perhaps I shouldn't have left the addictions paragraph so soon. Suffice it to say, robots don't care about food. And I probably care too much. Let the chips fall where they may, I'll be a human. (Did somebody say chips? With French onion dip? mmmmmm)
I get tired, pick up viruses (how attractive), bleed and burp. I try not to do the latter in public. I sleep, read, shop, celebrate holidays and marvel over creation.
I have faith. I have doubts. I have a soul.
I have a family.
But the biggest difference I sense lately between a robot and me is the feelings factor.
Ah feelings. Yes, I've blogged about them before....but they are probably the main reason I can prove I am not a robot. Like right at this very moment - I am experiencing a wide range of feelings about losing out on a part in a show I was very excited to accept when offered. But it seems the rehearsal schedule won't accommodate my only evening of working to try and make money. I cannot change my contracted office time. But I need the income that those evenings bring - albeit a meager amount at times. So I am sad and frustrated. Feeling like I'm losing out. Probably a little angry. Sort of confused as well because I know there are other cast members who work certain evenings who are somehow managing to stay in the cast.
There are many people in my life whom I would say I love. And some of them even love me in return. Even better, some know how to speak my love language(s). Of course the flip side of love is when you feel rather unloved. Have had my share of that too. But maybe we need those experiences to make the love we do receive sweeter and more appreciated.
I have been deeply hurt and have shared the hurts of others. It might seem preferable to be a robot at those times, but in the long run, given the choice I would choose this human condition. I think. Ask me on a day when I'm not hurting.
I love to laugh. You may be able to program a robot to laugh, but they won't mean it. It won't come from the gut. They don't even have guts. Just wires and circuits. I can prove I am not a robot because when I have occasion to laugh, it is a throw the head back, gurgling up from the inside kind of laugh that I cannot contain. Which can cause a problem in some situations - like getting church giggles. Aren't they horrible? And yet wonderful at the same time?
I become completely absorbed in cheering for the Steelers. And I am devastated when they lose - especially big games. (Thanks a lot, Tim Tebow!) As with laughing, you may get a robot to cheer for your team, but it will be hollow and devoid of passion and loyalty.
It is actually a little scary living in a world that is becoming more and more like the Jetsons. How ridiculous it seemed to watch things like video chats. And talking to a machine and having it obey our commands. (Well, the woman inside my phone who is supposed to do what I ask aside - I think she is deficient in some way.) Watching my son tell his phone to send me a text message and having my phone brrriinnnngggg with that very message in a matter of seconds did freak me out, I've gotta tell you. But I'll really be unnerved when he jumps into his hover car to travel in midair through traffic to get someplace.
Next time I'm asked to prove I'm not a robot, I'm not sure if I'll accomplish that by bleeding, laughing, eating chocolate or chips, throwing a temper tantrum or throwing a party. But I will definitely try to make my proof beyond a reasonable doubt!
