This morning, I cried.

Not because anything terrible happened.

I cried because I tried—really tried—to record a five-minute structured presentation, and I couldn’t get through it the way I wanted.

And immediately my brain went there:

How am I supposed to create content if I can’t make it through a five-minute structured recording?

The irony isn’t lost on me.

I’m building FACE IT !!! You’re Human, and apparently being human insists on showing up during production.

I eventually used AI to help create the presentation. I know that wasn’t necessarily what the assignment intended, and part of me struggled with that.

But in sitting with it afterward, I realized something important.

AI didn’t create FACE IT !!!. I did.

It didn’t live my life. It didn’t develop the framework. It didn’t decide what I believe. It didn’t write the experiences that became the ideas.

Technology helped me communicate something I was struggling to express in that particular format.

That’s different.

And that distinction matters—because it leads directly into something else I’ve been thinking about: what it means to be represented, imperfectly, in a digital world.

I Want My Avatar to Look Like Me

My mom recently commented that one side of my avatar’s face looked uneven.

I laughed because that’s actually accurate.

My face is sometimes uneven. One side can droop, and one eye can sit differently from the other.

And you know what?

I love that my avatar has imperfections.

As I become more comfortable using AI, I don’t want technology to slowly polish away everything that makes me recognizable as a human being.

I don’t need a flawless digital version of myself.

I want me, assisted by technology.

There’s a difference.

And for something called You’re Human, that difference matters.

That idea of noticing patterns in myself—what feels “me,” what feels cyclical, what feels unpredictable—naturally extends beyond appearance. It shows up in my emotions too.

Then There Are My New Moon Vibes 🌑

I’ve noticed another pattern about myself for years.

There are several days when I become unusually reflective and emotional. I can cry at Hallmark commercials. Folgers commercials. Those old AT&T long-distance commercials.

Yes, I just dated myself.

Sometimes I cry in the middle of absolutely nothing.

Then four or five days later—

BOOM. 💥

In the immortal spirit of Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand:

No more tears. Enough is enough.

I’ve also noticed another kind of energy around other parts of the lunar cycle.

So naturally, I’ve wondered:

Could the moon actually have something to do with it?

I’ve always heard the simple explanation that our bodies are mostly water, the moon moves the tides, therefore perhaps it affects us too.

Turns out, scientifically, that explanation doesn’t really hold up.

We’re not tiny oceans.

But the more interesting question isn’t whether that explanation is correct—it’s whether there’s any pattern at all worth paying attention to.

Research into lunar cycles and human biology hasn’t established that the moon directly controls our emotions. However, some studies have found intriguing associations between lunar cycles and things like sleep, circadian rhythms, and menstrual timing.

And sleep and circadian rhythms absolutely can influence energy, mood, and emotional sensitivity.

So the question shifts.

Not:

“Does the moon pull the water around inside Kim?”

But perhaps:

“Is there a biological or environmental rhythm—light, sleep, or circadian change—that creates a pattern I’ve learned to associate with the moon?”

I don’t know.

And that uncertainty is where curiosity begins.

What If I Actually Test It?

Instead of deciding my theory is true—or dismissing it because it sounds a little weird—I could treat it as something observable.

For six months, I could track:

My energy.

My sleep.

My emotional sensitivity.

My creativity.

My libido.

The days I unexpectedly cry.

And I wouldn’t even need to track the moon in real time while collecting the data.

Then afterward, I could overlay the lunar calendar.

Maybe I’ll discover a pattern.

Maybe I won’t.

Maybe I’ll discover something completely different.

That’s science.

Observation.

Curiosity.

Data.

And the willingness to revise your explanation when reality doesn’t match your assumption.

Maybe That’s the Bigger Point

This morning started with me feeling like I had failed because I couldn’t perform something in the expected way.

But as I move through these reflections—on AI, on appearance, on emotional cycles—I realize the thread connecting them is the same.

I don’t care as much anymore about being different.

Actually, I’m becoming fascinated by the differences.

Human beings aren’t standardized equipment.

Our faces aren’t perfectly symmetrical.

Our brains don’t process information the same way.

Our energy changes.

Our emotions move in rhythms we don’t always understand.

We adapt.

We create tools.

We find workarounds.

And now we have artificial intelligence capable of helping us express ourselves in new ways—but I don’t want it to erase the evidence that a human being was here.

I want it to help me express that humanity.

Keep the wrinkles.

Keep the asymmetry.

Keep the weird questions.

Keep the crying at commercials.

Keep the curiosity.

I’ll use the technology.

I’ll test the theories.

I’ll learn better ways to create.

But I’m keeping the imperfections.

Because they aren’t flaws in the system.

They are the system.

After all—

FACE IT !!!

You’re Human.