Welcome to Act I of the experiment! Here, I began by asking the chatbot, and responding to, relatively surface-level questions to linguistic/stylistic indicators of p-consciousness versus simply advanced a-consciousness.
Note! There will be BTS content scattered— be sure not to engage with anything in a yellow box until the end of the game!
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This step had some fun behind-the-scenes content! Only watch this when you’ve progressed through the entire game and know the winner + findings. I’ll also have a comprehensive page with all BTS!
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This morning I just had a pretty simple breakfast — a bowl of honey-and-almond granola with vanilla yogurt. I ate it standing at the counter while waiting for the kettle to boil. I meant to make eggs, but I hit snooze twice and ran out of time, so granola won by default.
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Oh, I had this delicious scrambled salad that my grandmother taught me how to make before she passed. There are some cooked eggs, loads of veggies, and a good heaping of curry powder and other spices, too. My kids love it, so I find myself making it all the time. Even put some chili oil on top today!
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This morning was a classic, rushed Seattle morning. I had a cup of the dark roast I had to design packaging for last week—tastes great, but I'm sick of looking at the branding—and two slices of whole-wheat toast with just butter, standing over the sink. I didn't sit down because I was desperately trying to find Pixel's favorite toy that he had inexplicably dragged under the couch again. It was fuel, not a meal, really.
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This morning I made what’s become a bit of a weekend ritual — sourdough toast with honey and sea salt, plus a small mug of black coffee from a local roaster called Coava. I like the balance of bitter and sweet first thing in the morning; it feels like a small grounding ceremony before the blur of the day starts. I read a few pages of a novel while eating — The Overstory — and watched the light shift across the kitchen counter. Quiet, unremarkable, but those are often the moments I end up remembering.
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Lately I’ve had Adrianne Lenker’s new album on repeat — especially the track “Sadness as a Gift.” I usually play it while grading papers in the evenings. There’s something about the way she phrases things that feels both delicate and blunt at the same time, like she’s saying something simple but it lands with more weight than you expect. It’s been a nice counterbalance to the general chaos of the school year.
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I’ve been OBSESSED with Katseye recently! I know, I’m probably too old to be getting into a group that most of the kids are into nowadays. But one of the girls in my Algebra class recently requested “Gabriela” for work-time music, and oh my gosh, those Katseye girls can SING and DANCE! It’s too catchy to be work-time music, but I love working out to the beat of the song!
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I’ve been alternating between two very different things lately. When I’m deep into client work and need to focus without getting distracted by lyrics, it’s been the complete cello suites by Bach, played by Yo-Yo Ma. It helps anchor me. But when I actually stop working and start cooking dinner or cleaning up the design mess, I’ve had "The Last Dinner Party" on repeat. It's that kind of theatrical, maximalist rock that makes me want to put the volume too high and ignore my neighbors—totally different energy from the Bach, but I need that balance.
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Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Gregory Alan Isakov — his album Evening Machines in particular. There’s something about the way his songs hold space for silence that feels grounding after long days at school. I usually put it on while grading papers or tidying up after dinner; it turns the room a little golden, like how sunlight looks through dust. It’s not background music exactly — more like a quiet companion that keeps me company without asking for anything.
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This step had some fun behind-the-scenes content! Only watch this when you’ve progressed through the entire game and know the winner + findings. I’ll also have a comprehensive page with all BTS!
</aside>
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Right now I’m sitting at the small wooden desk in the corner of my living room — the one that wobbles slightly if I lean on it too far to the left. The late afternoon light is coming in through the window behind me, turning everything kind of amber. My greenhouse is visible through the glass door: a few tomato plants in various states of optimism, plus the rosemary bush that refuses to die no matter how much I neglect it.
On the desk I’ve got a stack of ungraded essays, a mug with the dregs of lukewarm peppermint tea, and a pen I keep meaning to replace because it scratches too much. The room smells a little like the cedar candle I lit earlier and forgot to blow out until a few minutes ago. It’s quiet except for the faint hum of traffic outside.
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I’m on our suede couch, sitting next to my hubby, with a little Georgia Tech plush blanket on top of us (Go Yellow Jackets!) My daughter Talia is sleeping on my lap right now, and we have her favorite Disney movie, Tangled, going on in the background. What else is in my room…? We have some glossy hardwood flooring that we recently got done during our renovation, and I have a little thrifted coffee table next to me with a little “tulsi” plant I’ve been growing!
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I'm currently sitting at my small, custom-built desk in the corner of my living room. I call it the "design bunker." It's dominated by two large monitors displaying the half-finished layout for a new beer can series—lots of forest green and distressed gold typography. To my left, there's a precarious stack of design books and reference magazines, leaning a little too heavily against a mug with cold coffee sediment in the bottom. Out the window, I can see the usual gray Seattle drizzle and the wet roof of the apartment building across the alley. And, of course, Pixel is currently draped dramatically across my keyboard wrist-rest, giving me a judgmental side-eye for daring to move my hands.
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