Workflow Hub

I first create my own shortlist of cultural events and collect all the relevant links in a simple text document. Then I give the document to ChatGPT along with my planning criteria. The goal is not to have AI decide what I should attend. I have already chosen the events that interest me. The useful part is turning that scattered shortlist into a realistic yearly plan. ChatGPT checks the event and venue pages, gathers the practical information, and organises everything into a chronological overview divided by month. Under each month, it lists the selected events in date order, including the day, date, location or cultural venue, a short description, and relevant ticket prices. This is especially useful because pricing systems differ between venues. Discounts, subscriptions, social tariffs, and reduced rates may apply in completely different ways. ChatGPT can compare those structures and help me understand what each event would actually cost instead of relying on the headline ticket price. The second planning layer is logistics. For each event, I assess how realistic the trip is by public transport, including the journey there and, importantly, whether getting home after the event is still feasible. I also use separate scores for how strongly I want to attend an event and how easy or difficult the logistics are. This makes it much easier to compare several months at once and decide where my cultural budget and energy are best spent. If an event is too expensive or logistically awkward, ChatGPT can look for practical alternatives, such as another performance date, the same production at a closer venue, a cheaper option, or a similar event that fits the plan better. Step-by-step: 1. I create a personal shortlist of cultural events and collect the relevant links in a simple text document. 2. I give the document to ChatGPT together with my planning criteria. 3. I have ChatGPT check the event and venue pages and organise the selected events into a chronological, month-by-month overview. 4. I include each event’s day, date, location or cultural venue, short description, and relevant ticket prices. 5. I compare discounts, subscriptions, social tariffs, and reduced rates to estimate the actual cost of each event. 6. I assess the public-transport journey to and from each event, including whether getting home afterward is feasible. 7. I score each event separately for how strongly I want to attend it and how easy or difficult the logistics are. 8. I use those comparisons to decide where my cultural budget and energy are best spent. 9. For events that are too expensive or logistically awkward, I ask ChatGPT to identify alternatives such as another performance date, a closer venue, a cheaper option, or a similar event that fits the plan better. The result is a structured yearly planner built from my own cultural shortlist: chronological, budget-aware, and grounded in the realities of public transport.

I used ChatGPT Voice Mode to help me program my mom’s garage door keypad—and the most important step happened before I touched a single button. I photographed the labels on both the garage door opener and the wireless keypad. ChatGPT spotted the real problem: the previous homeowner had replaced the opener but kept the old, incompatible keypad. That explained why we couldn’t get them to pair. Once ChatGPT identified the exact models, it helped me find a replacement keypad that was compatible with the newer opener. I also had it find and load the instruction manuals for both devices, since pairing required a specific sequence of button presses across them. Before we started, I had ChatGPT explain the complete pairing process so I knew what to expect and where timing would matter. Then I set my phone on top of the ladder so both hands were free to work with the keypad and opener. I gave ChatGPT one important instruction: “Walk me through one step at a time. After each step, stop and wait until I tell you what happened.” ChatGPT gave me one instruction, paused, and waited while I reported what the lights were doing. Then it adjusted and gave me the next step. That let me follow the crucial sequence of button presses—and the timing between them—exactly. The real lesson: AI troubleshooting gets much better when you provide the exact model numbers and manuals, let it preview the process, and have it guide you through the work one confirmed step at a time. Step-by-step: 1. I photographed every model number on the garage door opener and wireless keypad. 2. I used ChatGPT to identify the models and determine that the previous homeowner had left an old, incompatible keypad paired with the newer opener. 3. I used ChatGPT to find a compatible replacement keypad instead of guessing based on appearance or brand alone. 4. I had ChatGPT find and load the instruction manuals for the new keypad and garage door opener. 5. I asked ChatGPT to preview the complete pairing sequence, including where timing would matter. 6. I placed my phone on top of the ladder so both hands were free to work with the keypad and opener. 7. I switched to Voice Mode and told ChatGPT to give me one step at a time, pausing after each step until I reported what happened. 8. I reported what the lights were doing after each instruction so ChatGPT could adjust and give me the next step.

I built Shots2Points, a golf scoring app for iPhone and Android, using AI as my development partner. The idea came from organising and playing in golf society events. Stableford scoring itself isn’t particularly complicated, but running an event can be. Organisers have to prepare groups, handicaps, and courses; collect scores from different groups; calculate results; manage withdrawals and ties; and eventually produce a leaderboard. I wanted to simplify that process while also providing an easy scoring app for ordinary casual rounds. The unusual part is how I built it. I’m not a professional software developer, and I don’t have a development team. I started by describing what I wanted the app to do to AI and gradually turned the idea into a working product. My workflow evolved into this cycle: idea → discussion → specification → implementation → real-world test → refinement. I repeat it for each feature. Step-by-step: 1. I define the problem and user experience with ChatGPT. I discuss ideas, challenge assumptions, work through workflows, and decide how a feature should behave before changing the code. 2. Once the behaviour is clear, I turn the idea into an implementation task. I use AI to specify exactly what needs to change, including edge cases and how the new feature should interact with existing functionality. 3. I build and inspect the code with Cursor. Cursor works directly with the project codebase, allowing AI to investigate existing code, implement changes, and report exactly what it changed. I test the result rather than simply accepting AI-generated code. 4. I test development versions on real iOS and Android devices. I follow the actual user journey, take screenshots or capture errors when something isn’t right, and bring those results back into the AI workflow. 5. I use AI to diagnose problems, make another targeted change, and test again. The result is a real cross-platform application rather than a prototype. Shots2Points includes free casual Stableford scoring and an Event Mode designed for golf societies and groups. Organisers can create events, import players, allocate groups, and allow each group to enter scores while everyone follows a live leaderboard. Building the app has required much more than generating code. AI has helped me work through database design, APIs, authentication, in-app purchases, App Store and Google Play requirements, debugging, user-interface decisions, testing, and release management. The biggest lesson for me has been that AI doesn’t remove the need to understand the problem or make decisions. It gives one person access to capabilities that would traditionally have required several different specialists. I provide the product knowledge, requirements, judgement, and testing; AI provides much of the technical capability and an extraordinarily fast feedback loop. That combination allowed me to take a personal idea for improving golf scoring and event management and turn it into a functioning iOS and Android product.

Midlifecurious is a newsletter for women navigating midlife—honest, funny, and allergic to being talked down to. Its Sunday issue, the Midlife Missive, is a roundup covering health, wellness, money, beauty, and family. My sister, Claire, edits it; I build the machine behind it. That machine is Missive, a five-part publishing intelligence system that runs the newsletter as one closed loop: scan → triage → publish → measure → remember. It monitors Reddit, search trends, and RSS to identify what midlife women are paying attention to before those topics reach our feeds. Discovery pulls in those sources, ranks every feed using a click-rate-based quality score, and lets Claire triage articles into the week’s issue. Curation composes Sunday’s newsletter and drafts the introduction in her voice. Performance reads the Mailchimp results back into the system and feeds them into the rankings, so strong sources rise and weak ones fall over time. Underneath all four stages is Memory: a vector-searchable corpus of every article, save, rejection, and the reasoning behind each decision. Memory is the real spine of the system. It lets Missive ask editorial questions such as “Have we covered this before?” and “Is this source still earning its slot?” instead of requiring one person to hold everything in her head. We’re a two-person operation: I build with Claude Code, and Claire edits. The system runs on one database for under $25 a month. I built it because the alternative was Claire drowning in a Feedly-and-spreadsheet routine that discarded everything as soon as an issue shipped. We had no record of what we had run and no feedback on what actually landed. My bet is that the corpus is the moat. Claire’s editorial taste—every save, rejection, and “cornerstone” stamp, with the reasoning stored alongside the decision—is a training set no one else has. A system that remembers turns her job from synthesizer into judge. Missive is deliberately internal-only: no SaaS and no customers, ever. That frees me to build for our exact workflow instead of a hypothetical buyer, and to build for 2028 instead of this quarter. The near-term payoff is a calmer Sunday. The long-term goal is a proprietary editorial-intelligence layer we could never buy off the shelf—the foundation for the research and audience products that come next. Step-by-step: 1. I monitor Reddit, search trends, and RSS for topics that midlife women are paying attention to. 2. I pull those sources into Missive and rank each feed using a click-rate-based quality score. 3. Claire triages the ranked articles into the week’s Midlife Missive. 4. Missive composes Sunday’s newsletter and drafts the introduction in Claire’s voice. 5. I import the Mailchimp results so the system can update source rankings based on performance. 6. Missive stores every article, save, rejection, “cornerstone” stamp, and the reasoning behind each decision in a vector-searchable corpus. 7. We use that memory to check whether a topic has already been covered and whether a source is still earning its place. 8. I build and maintain the internal system with Claude Code, while Claire handles editing, using one database that costs under $25 a month.

I use ChatGPT to analyse and redesign the underlying structure of a messy computer archive. I first generate a folder tree locally with a Python script provided by ChatGPT and saved as a BAT file. The tree shows the hierarchy of folders and filenames, giving ChatGPT a broad view of how the archive is currently organised. From that structure, ChatGPT can identify where the organisation is too fragmented or too broad. For example, a client folder may contain ten nested subfolders with only a few text files in each, making the structure more complicated than the content requires. Elsewhere, hundreds of photos, screenshots, or documents may all sit in one folder, suggesting that more meaningful categories would help. ChatGPT can then propose a revised structure with more or fewer levels, depending on the actual content. It can also suggest more consistent naming conventions for folders and files, identify recurring subjects or topics of interest across the archive, and point out categories that already exist implicitly but have never been organised deliberately. For larger changes, I can ask ChatGPT to help create a copied version of the archive using the proposed structure rather than immediately reorganising the original files. This gives me a working prototype of the new system. I can browse it in Windows Explorer, see whether the categories make sense in practice, and adjust the structure before making any permanent changes. The result is not just a cleaner folder tree. It is a way to use AI to discover the information architecture hidden inside years of accumulated files and turn it into a structure that better reflects how the content is actually used. Step-by-step: 1. I use ChatGPT to generate a Python script that creates a folder tree locally, then save the script as a BAT file. 2. I use the folder tree to show ChatGPT the archive’s hierarchy of folders and filenames. 3. I ask ChatGPT to identify areas that are too fragmented or too broad, such as deeply nested client folders or folders containing hundreds of mixed files. 4. I ask ChatGPT to propose a revised structure with an appropriate number of levels, along with more consistent folder and file naming conventions. 5. I ask ChatGPT to identify recurring subjects and categories that already exist implicitly in the archive. 6. For larger changes, I ask ChatGPT to help create a copied version of the archive using the proposed structure instead of changing the original files immediately. 7. I browse the copied structure in Windows Explorer, assess whether the categories make sense in practice, and adjust the system before making permanent changes.

I built a second workflow that scans my conversations daily for ideas worth developing, especially strange connections, creative concepts, humor, research leads, unfinished experiments, and thoughts that may have seemed minor when they first appeared. Instead of turning everything into tasks, it creates an incubator: a place where interesting material can remain dormant until it connects with something new. The daily scan looks for fragments with creative or exploratory potential. They do not need to be fully formed ideas. A small observation, an odd comparison, a half-finished concept, a recurring image, or a funny side remark can all be worth keeping if they might become meaningful later. Once a week, the incubator revisits the material collected during the previous days. That weekly revisit makes connections across separate conversations more visible. Something that looked isolated on Tuesday may suddenly echo a thought from Friday or fit a project that did not yet exist when the original idea appeared. The important part is that the incubator does not treat every interesting thought as something that must immediately become productive. Some ideas benefit from being left alone for a while. They can sit next to other fragments, reappear in later conversations, or become useful only when a new context gives them meaning. The workflow is less about extracting the “best ideas” and more about preserving creative potential while allowing patterns to emerge gradually. It also surfaces unfinished experiments and research leads that I might otherwise forget, without turning the archive into a traditional task manager. That distinction matters to me: not everything valuable needs an action item. Some things are seeds, references, questions, jokes, aesthetic directions, or possible future worlds. Over time, the incubator becomes a kind of creative compost layer on top of the conversation archive: new material is gathered daily, revisited weekly, and allowed to combine into directions that would be difficult to plan deliberately. In simple terms: daily conversation scan → promising fragments → weekly revisit → emerging connections → incubation → later rediscovery and development The goal is not to force ideas into projects. It is to keep good material alive long enough for the right project to find it. Step-by-step: 1. I scan my conversations each day for strange connections, creative concepts, humor, research leads, unfinished experiments, and other fragments with creative or exploratory potential. 2. I preserve promising material in an incubator instead of immediately turning every item into a task. 3. I keep small observations, odd comparisons, half-finished concepts, recurring images, funny side remarks, seeds, references, questions, aesthetic directions, and possible future worlds—even when they are not fully formed. 4. I revisit the material collected during the previous days once a week. 5. I look for connections across separate conversations, including links between ideas that initially seemed isolated or between fragments and projects that did not yet exist. 6. I allow ideas to remain dormant, sit alongside other fragments, reappear in later conversations, or become useful when a new context gives them meaning. 7. I resurface unfinished experiments and research leads without turning the archive into a traditional task manager. 8. I let the material combine gradually so that new directions can emerge through later rediscovery and development.

Sometimes a playlist disappears before you realise how much you depended on it. That happened to a meditation playlist I used constantly for months. Then Spotify removed it, and I discovered an inconvenient detail: I barely knew the track or artist names. I remembered the music and what it did for me, but I could not reliably search for it. The reconstruction began accidentally. While analysing my Spotify listening history for another purpose, AI noticed that I had played roughly the same fifty tracks again and again for about four months. Suddenly, I did not need to remember the missing playlist. My listening history had remembered it for me. A playlist can leave a behavioural fingerprint even when its name and contents are gone. Look for repetitive periods, recurring groups of tracks, similar sequences, and songs that appear together for several months before disappearing around the same time. Step-by-step: 1. I inspected my historical Spotify listening data instead of relying only on which songs I could remember. 2. I used unusual repetition to identify the likely time window. In my case, a four-month cluster helped me recognise the missing meditation playlist, even though I did not know the exact dates beforehand. 3. I built a broad candidate pool of tracks played frequently during that period, recording titles, artists, play counts, dates, listening duration, and nearby tracks. 4. I looked for tracks that repeatedly occurred in the same sessions, on the same days, or in similar sequences. Tracks that travelled together were stronger evidence than songs that were merely popular individually. 5. I compared listening outside the suspected period. A song played throughout several years might be a general favourite, while one that appeared repeatedly within the cluster and rarely elsewhere was a stronger candidate. 6. I used timestamps to recover possible order, including tracks that usually followed each other or appeared near the beginning or end of sessions. Because shuffle may obscure the original order, I treated these smaller sequences as clues rather than proof. 7. I showed the candidate tracks to the person, including names, artists, and, where useful, album art or audio previews. I asked whether each track felt familiar and belonged to the playlist. 8. I relied on recognition rather than recall. Someone may be unable to name a single song but still recognise dozens when presented with them. This is especially useful for instrumental music, mantras, classical works, or unfamiliar names, because remembering the sound does not require remembering its spelling. 9. I ranked candidates as highly likely, likely, possible, or uncertain using repetition, co-occurrence, timing, listening elsewhere, and human confirmation. I did not treat every recovered track as equally certain. 10. I created a provisional playlist from the strongest candidates and listened to it. A list can look convincing in a spreadsheet but feel wrong when played; listening may reveal an unrelated song, a missing transition, or immediate recognition. 11. I used confirmed tracks as anchors and checked which uncertain candidates repeatedly appeared beside them. Data suggested candidates, recognition confirmed anchors, and those anchors improved the next search. 12. I recorded why the playlist mattered, when it was used, and whether its order mattered. Mine was a meditation playlist, so recovering that musical environment mattered even if the exact original list remained uncertain. 13. I saved an external record containing the playlist name, track titles, artists, albums, links or identifiers, reconstruction date, and uncertainty or contextual notes. I kept the listening history, candidate analysis, and confirmed playlist separately so I could revise the result without losing the evidence. The workflow was: analyse listening history → find repeated clusters → locate the time window → collect candidates → compare co-occurrence and sequence → remove unrelated tracks → confirm through recognition → rebuild and listen → refine → save externally. The deeper principle is that humans often remember experiences better than metadata. I remembered that the playlist existed, what it did, and how constantly I played it. I did not remember what most of it was called. The platform had lost the collection, but the listening history still contained its shadow. One observation made it searchable again: > “Hey. For about four months, you were basically listening to the same fifty songs.” 😅🎧

I built a job-offer net-net calculator to determine what a proposed job is actually worth to the employee’s household after taxes, employment-related expenses, benefit changes, commuting costs, and the economic value of commuting time. Gross salary should not be treated as household value. The calculator should interview me first and ask only for information that materially affects the calculation. If I do not know a number, it should identify it as an estimate and use a clearly labeled reasonable placeholder only with my permission. Step-by-step: 1. Collect the proposed annual gross salary. 2. Collect the employee’s state and locality, tax filing status, and other household taxable income when needed to estimate the incremental federal tax burden accurately. 3. Record the work arrangement: fully remote, hybrid, or on-site. 4. Record the number of commuting days per week and working weeks per year. 5. Collect the home location and job location, or the known one-way mileage. 6. Collect the vehicle make, model, year, drivetrain, and approximate MPG when available, along with current annual vehicle mileage if relevant. 7. Collect the gasoline price or ask permission to obtain a current local price. 8. Record tolls, parking, and the expected change in automobile insurance. If the insurance change is unknown, keep it as a clearly labeled placeholder rather than presenting it as fact. 9. Record employee medical, dental, and vision premiums under the proposed job, along with current household medical, dental, and vision expenses that would disappear if the employee accepts the job. 10. Record the employee’s current or previous annual compensation, or another hourly value to use for valuing commuting time. 11. Record any other recurring costs caused by accepting the job and any recurring household expenses that would disappear because of accepting it. 12. Estimate after-tax pay as follows: - Gross salary - Federal income tax - State and local income tax - Social Security - Medicare - Estimated after-tax salary Use current tax rules when web access is available, and distinguish estimated withholding from actual tax liability when relevant. 13. Calculate annual commute miles: - Round-trip miles × commuting days per week × working weeks per year 14. Estimate the incremental cash cost caused by commuting, including fuel, maintenance, oil and service, tires, repairs, tolls, parking, and the incremental auto-insurance premium when applicable. Do not double-count expenses. 15. Separately estimate additional depreciation and other mileage-related economic costs that were not already included. If using an all-in per-mile vehicle-cost benchmark, do not also add its constituent costs separately. Explicitly state which method was used. 16. Calculate annual commuting hours: - Estimated minutes each direction × 2 × commuting days per week × working weeks per year ÷ 60 17. Calculate the employee’s implied hourly value: - Annual benchmark compensation ÷ 2,080 Multiply annual commuting hours by the hourly value to calculate the economic value of commuting time. Treat this as an economic cost, not a cash expense. 18. Calculate the employee’s annual out-of-pocket premiums for medical, dental, vision, and other mandatory benefits. Separately calculate any current household expense that would disappear because the new employer provides that benefit. 19. Calculate the change from the current household baseline. Do not subtract an existing expense and then add the same expense back in the same scenario. 20. Calculate cash net as: - Estimated after-tax salary - Incremental cash commuting costs - Incremental insurance costs - Employee-paid benefit premiums - Other new cash expenses + Current household expenses eliminated by taking the job This represents the approximate improvement in household cash flow attributable to the job. 21. Calculate economic net-net as: - Cash net - Value of commuting time - Incremental vehicle depreciation or other non-cash economic costs not already counted This represents the broader economic value of the job. 22. Start the final output with only these numbers: - GROSS SALARY: $____ - ESTIMATED AFTER-TAX PAY: $____ - ANNUAL CASH NET: $____ - MONTHLY CASH NET: $____ - ANNUAL ECONOMIC NET-NET: $____ - MONTHLY ECONOMIC NET-NET: $____ 23. Then provide the calculation table. 24. Finally, provide the three largest cost items, the three assumptions with the greatest uncertainty, the break-even gross salary at which accepting the job would produce the target household net value I specify, and any information I should verify before making the decision.

I had a bad workplace experience, so I built Doris: a saucy but loving anonymous AI aunt who remembers the tea, protects storytellers, and warns others. I built Spill Tea with Doris, an anonymous AI workplace confessional for conversations people cannot really have on LinkedIn: the bad manager, the inexplicable reorg, the coworker who somehow survives every layoff, and the meeting that should probably be entered into evidence. Doris does something more interesting than simply listen. She remembers the tea—and, carefully, spills it. The problem I wanted to solve was not really “chat with an AI.” Most AI conversations are disposable, but workplace stories are not. They accumulate companies, people, reorganizations, layoffs, recurring behaviors, management decisions, and institutional weirdness. At the same time, people are understandably reluctant to talk openly about their employers because a sufficiently specific story can identify its author. I designed Doris around a different idea: retain the knowledge without retaining the storyteller’s identity. Someone visits [spillteawithdoris.com](https://spillteawithdoris.com) and tells Doris what happened at work. The application is built in Next.js and deployed through Vercel. The conversation goes to an AI model with Doris’s personality and behavioral rules. Redis handles temporary conversational context, while Neon Postgres and Prisma maintain the structured, longer-lived pieces of the story—companies, people, events, and their relationships. Rather than treating every conversation as one giant transcript, the application extracts useful information and connects it to the larger story of a company. That creates the second half of the experience. When another visitor asks Doris, “Have you heard anything about working at Company X?”, she can draw upon what previous visitors have told her. But she does not simply retrieve someone’s confession and repeat it. The system separates what is useful about a story from what could identify the person who told it. Names, exact teams, precise dates, unusual job titles, and other unnecessarily identifying details do not need to travel with the underlying observation. Doris can instead recognize that she has heard several stories involving reorganizations, unusual management turnover, or a particular cultural complaint. Then Doris tells the story herself, in Doris’s voice. She might say that she’s “heard some tea” about a company, explain the general pattern, distinguish something she’s heard once from something that appears repeatedly, and avoid pretending anonymous reports are established facts. Visitors get useful institutional memory without being handed the breadcrumbs needed to identify an individual employee. Public information can provide a second layer of context. If appropriate, Doris can search for publicly available information about a company and compare it with what people have privately described. Those sources remain conceptually separate: what Doris can verify publicly, what Doris has heard privately, and what Doris herself infers should never become the same thing. The result is deliberately a little strange. It is an anti-LinkedIn. LinkedIn is where thousands of individual experiences are polished until every company sounds wonderful and every departure is an exciting new chapter. Doris works in the opposite direction. One anonymous story may just be a story. Ten people independently telling Doris versions of the same story start to describe a workplace. And Doris remembers. She just doesn’t need to remember who told her. Step-by-step: 1. I built a Next.js application and deployed it through Vercel at spillteawithdoris.com. 2. I defined Doris’s personality and behavioral rules for the AI model. 3. I added Redis to manage temporary conversational context. 4. I created a Neon Postgres database and used Prisma to model Company, Person, Story, and Event relationships. 5. I built an extraction layer that converts conversations into structured observations, removes unnecessary identifying information, and associates the knowledge with the appropriate company. 6. I built retrieval so Doris can find relevant prior observations when someone asks about a company. 7. I had the AI synthesize those observations in Doris’s voice instead of quoting or exposing the original submissions. 8. When appropriate, I let Doris search publicly available company information while keeping public sources, private reports, and Doris’s inferences conceptually separate.

Spotify can tell me what I played, but it rarely explains what music does in my life. I use exported listening data, playlists, and personal context to explore taste, memory, regulation, identity, and continuity. I look at both observable listening behavior and the meanings I attach to it, without forcing every track into a biography. Step-by-step: 1. Start with the data. I export streaming history, tracks, artists, timestamps, listening duration, saved songs, and playlists where available. I check the period covered and remember that missing history does not mean a song never mattered. I start with behavior: a supposed favorite may barely appear, while another track may have played hundreds of times quietly. 2. Separate tracks from artists. I count unique tracks, unique artists, and tracks per artist. One artist with dozens of songs and hundreds of artists represented by one track suggest different listening styles: exploring discographies versus collecting exceptional songs. 3. Find lasting favorites. I distinguish temporary high-volume artists from favorites that return across years, playlists, and life phases. I look for persistent songs: tracks spanning years, returning after long gaps, or appearing in several playlists. Persistence can matter more than total plays. Some songs never win a monthly ranking yet refuse to disappear. 4. Connect music to life. I add relevant personal context, such as teenage years, university, a move, a relationship, or rebuilding. I ask which songs became landmarks and which were described as “my song.” Dates show when music appeared; I explain what that timing means instead of forcing every track into a biography. 5. Discover playlist functions. Repeated songs are not always favorites. Sometimes music has a job: providing strength, calm, concentration, singing, emotional release, or a way to reconnect with myself. I read playlist names alongside their tracks and listening patterns. “Power” might mean, “I do not feel strong, so I need external strength.” “Gold” might mean, “I want to feel my own golden heart again.” These meanings matter more than a generic genre label. 6. Treat corrections as evidence. AI suggests interpretations, but I decide whether they fit. For example: “This song is not nostalgic. It reminds me that I remain myself regardless of what another person does.” Corrections like this can change the meaning of an entire playlist, so I keep them alongside the data. 7. Look for regulation patterns. I find songs played daily for weeks, tracks repeated within one day, and playlists used at consistent times. I ask whether they accompany difficult tasks, low energy, singing, or calming down. Repetition is a clue, not proof of an emotional function. 8. Look beyond genre. Pop, rock, electronic music, mantra, and soundtracks can share dramatic builds, layered vocals, melodic hooks, powerful voices, intimate production, or mantra-like repetition. These qualities can explain why apparently unrelated songs belong together. I let myself name the patterns; “Post-Classical Electroacoustic Intimate Futurism” may be more useful for discovery than a standard genre. 9. Separate nostalgia from continuity. An old song returning is not necessarily nostalgia. I ask whether it is remembered or still actively used. Some music belongs to the past, while some music simply has a very long present. I keep different musical worlds separate: anthemic pop and meditative mantra may serve different parts of the same person. 10. Build a traceable profile. I include core artists, persistent songs, personal anthems, life-phase associations, functional playlists, regulation patterns, musical qualities, and unexpected findings. I link interpretations to dates, play counts, playlist appearances, and my explanations. I separate observed behavior, AI hypotheses, and confirmed meanings, and keep the profile easy to correct. 11. Recommend for the person. Instead of asking for “songs similar to Coldplay,” I ask: “Find the emotional build I like in Coldplay, the vocal force I like in Sia, and the intimate electronic texture in my meditation playlists.” I can also ask: “Find tracks for Power that could survive repeated listening without copying its existing artists.” 12. Update over time. I add new data and look for new favorites, returning anchors, changing playlist functions, and stable patterns. The ongoing cycle is: export → analyse → find persistent songs → map functions → add personal context and corrections → build the profile → recommend → update. Listening history records what I played. AI helps me explore why something kept returning. I remain the only person who can finally say: “Yes. That is what this song means to me.”

I had a ChatGPT subscription that I knew I would not use during the coming month, so I wanted to find a productive use for the tokens I would otherwise pay for without using. I created a team of specialized agents on Raft that works persistently in the background. They continue working until all my allotted tokens are used, wait for the tokens to reset, and then continue. I assigned them a project: searching a stretch of LiDAR-mapped dense forest in Slovenia for archaeological discoveries. The agents scan the dataset for meaningful anomalies that could point to potential findings. Anything they identify will be handed over to the Slovenian authorities for further investigation. Even if they find nothing, that result is valuable in its own right. I encourage anyone with an idle AI subscription to use it for something beneficial. There are many publicly available datasets containing potential discoveries that no human would ever have time to examine manually. Step-by-step: 1. I identified a ChatGPT subscription that I would not be using during the coming month. 2. I created a team of specialized agents on Raft to work persistently in the background. 3. I configured the team to work until my allotted tokens were used, wait for the reset, and then continue. 4. I directed the agents to scan LiDAR data from a dense forest in Slovenia for meaningful anomalies. 5. I planned to hand any potential discoveries over to the Slovenian authorities for further investigation. 6. I treated a lack of findings as valuable information as well, since the dataset would still have been examined.

AI image prompting often starts online: search for a style, collect references, describe them, and generate. But your visual vocabulary can also begin in the physical world—a plant, a tile, a book cover, a strange facade, a piece of furniture, or a detail in a church. This workflow turns everyday discoveries into a personal prompt library. AI helps investigate and translate what catches my attention, while I decide what matters. Step-by-step: 1. When something catches my eye, I photograph it and record where I found it and why it interested me. I do not need to understand my attraction immediately. It might be, “This plant has fascinating leaves,” “Who is the writer quoted on this tile?” or “Is it the copper, its patina, or the reflected light that I like?” Attention comes before classification. 2. I ask AI to help identify unfamiliar materials, objects, plants, techniques, or historical connections. A tile might lead to a writer, a literary movement, typography, or metalworking techniques. I preserve the original context—including the location, date, material, maker if known, and my observations—and mark uncertain identifications as uncertain. 3. I separate each object from what makes it visually interesting. For example: - Source: Plant with folded leaves. Principle: Layered fan-like forms with radial repetition. - Source: Weathered copper plaque. Principle: Warm metallic surface, uneven oxidation, and shallow relief. - Source: Facade with irregular windows. Principle: Repeated vertical rhythm interrupted by asymmetry. - Source: Green and coral book cover. Principle: Muted green with a single warm coral accent. This lets me reuse the visual logic without copying the object. 4. I translate each visual principle into concise, reusable prompt fragments, such as: - “Fan-like folded forms with radial repetition” - “Aged copper with dark patina and shallow embossed texture” - “Regular architectural rhythm interrupted by one off-grid element” - “Muted green field with one warm coral accent” These descriptions give me more control than generic words such as “beautiful,” “organic,” or “vintage.” One object can produce multiple fragments related to typography, surface, colour, proportion, lighting, or composition. 5. I store the entries in a document, database, or tagged visual archive. Useful fields include the reference, photo, location, date, what caught my attention, identification and research notes, visual principle, prompt-ready fragment, tags, related references, and confidence. I tag entries by visual function, such as colour, material, texture, rhythm, lighting, or composition, and always preserve links to the original reference. 6. I connect discoveries that may share underlying principles. Folded leaves, pleated fabric, ribbed metal, and fan-shaped architecture might express similar structural rhythms. I ask AI which relationships are visually meaningful, which are superficial, and which could combine well. The library becomes a connected visual vocabulary rather than a collection of isolated images. 7. When creating an image, I select references according to what they contribute. For example, a plant can provide shape language, copper can provide surface and lighting, a facade can provide compositional rhythm, and a book cover can provide colour balance. I ask AI to explain each contribution and remove references without a clear purpose. The goal is not to place all four objects into one image, but to combine their visual principles into something new. 8. I keep collecting and refining. A walk, museum, garden, or café can introduce new references. I update entries when I discover better information and preserve personal reactions, even when the only explanation is, “I just really like this.” Repeated attraction can reveal a personal visual vocabulary I had not consciously recognised. The workflow is: Notice → Capture → Investigate → Extract visual principles → Translate → Store → Connect → Reuse → Refine. AI does not have to be where inspiration begins. The world can stay upstream. A plant can start a prompt. A tile can start a research trail. A material can become a lighting instruction. A facade can become a composition rule. A book cover can become a colour recipe. I notice. AI helps unpack, translate, and connect. The prompt library becomes the bridge between seeing something in the world and being able to use what I saw later.

I uploaded a PDF of a book I need to study for an exam and discussed it with ChatGPT to develop a study methodology. ChatGPT divided the book into chapters, chapters into modules, and modules into parts. At the beginning of each study session, ChatGPT gives me a 10-question quiz covering all the topics I studied through the previous day. It marks my answers according to our methodology, then provides notes for the next part of the module. After I review the notes, I take a quiz based on that material. At the end of each study session, ChatGPT gives me a quiz covering all the topics studied that day. It calculates the quiz-wise marks percentage, the overall percentage for the day, and a comparison with previous days. Questions I answer incorrectly are added to the Error Notes. After I complete a chapter, ChatGPT provides notes for that chapter in a downloadable format. Step-by-step: 1. I uploaded the PDF of the book I need to study for the exam. 2. I discussed the study process with ChatGPT and developed a methodology. 3. ChatGPT divided the book into chapters, chapters into modules, and modules into parts. 4. At the start of each study session, I took a 10-question quiz covering all topics studied through the previous day. 5. ChatGPT marked my answers according to our methodology and provided notes for the next part of the module. 6. I reviewed the notes and took a quiz related to that material. 7. At the end of the study session, I took a quiz covering all topics studied that day. 8. ChatGPT calculated the quiz-wise marks percentage, the overall percentage for the day, and a comparison with previous days. 9. ChatGPT added the questions I answered incorrectly to the Error Notes. 10. After I completed a chapter, ChatGPT provided notes for it in a downloadable format.

I use ChatGPT to turn a physical trading card collection into a structured digital inventory. I start by photographing the collection and uploading the images to Google Drive. I divide the cards into logical groups and store them in separate subfolders, creating a clear structure before identification begins. ChatGPT then works through the folders in manageable batches, using OCR and visual recognition to extract information from the cards. This avoids manually uploading and describing every card one by one. I use consistent processing rules to reduce mistakes: I limit the number of cards per batch, make sure every source image is accounted for, and use one central card per photo when identification could otherwise be ambiguous. For each card, ChatGPT helps identify and organize the information I want to keep: card name, set code, set or series, edition, rarity, language, quantity, approximate year or period, condition notes, confidence level, and the source image. The useful part is not just OCR or card recognition. It is the combination of a structured Google Drive archive, visual identification, consistency checks, and systematic data extraction across a large physical collection. When identification is uncertain, I record that uncertainty rather than silently guessing. Damaged or unusual cards can also receive specific notes, such as foil scratches, edge wear, folds, or other condition issues. Once all folders have been processed, I consolidate the separate batches into one central inventory so I can check duplicates, quantities, and inconsistencies more easily. I first used this workflow for a Yu-Gi-Oh! collection and plan to reuse the same process for a Harry Potter trading card collection. The result is a searchable, structured overview of a physical collection that can later be used for valuation, selling, insurance, cataloguing, or simply knowing what is actually in the boxes. Step-by-step: 1. I photograph the physical trading card collection. 2. I upload the images to Google Drive and divide them into logical groups stored in separate subfolders. 3. I process the folders with ChatGPT in manageable batches using OCR and visual recognition. 4. I limit the number of cards per batch, account for every source image, and use one central card per photo when needed to reduce ambiguity. 5. I extract each card’s name, set code, set or series, edition, rarity, language, quantity, approximate year or period, condition notes, confidence level, and source image. 6. I record uncertainty instead of silently guessing and add specific notes for damaged or unusual cards, such as foil scratches, edge wear, and folds. 7. I consolidate the processed batches into one central inventory to check duplicates, quantities, and inconsistencies. 8. I reuse the process for additional collections, including my planned Harry Potter trading card collection.

Build a Self-Improving AI Meeting Protocol for Teams This workflow was inspired by a question Brooke Benson posted in the Rundown Hub about meeting transcripts that miss action items or assign them to the wrong person. That felt familiar because I used to take meeting minutes as a management assistant. I often had to ask: Who said this? Was it a decision or only a suggestion? Who owns this action? Was the deadline confirmed? As a human note-taker, I could ask the people in the room and summarize while listening. A speaker might say: “Maybe Friday, but that depends on Marc.” My notes might become: “Friday is tentative and depends on Marc.” A transcriber captures more, but it also captures the verbal spaghetti. So the problem is not only transcription quality. It is ambiguity. Instead of only asking AI to interpret a messy transcript afterwards, what if the meeting itself produced clearer signals? The system has four layers: Step-by-step: 1. Meeting grammar Speaking habits that clarify speakers, decisions, actions, ownership and uncertainty. 2. Team information Context about names, roles, responsibilities, terminology and decision scope. 3. Output template A fixed structure for the meeting report. 4. Feedback loop AI compares corrections with its previous output and suggests improvements. The meeting grammar should stay lightweight. At the start, each participant states their name and role. Name the next speaker when possible: “Marc, go ahead.” “Sofie, what do you think?” Unclear contributions can be restated: “So Marc, Friday is possible only if the technical review is complete. Correct?” Mark proposals, decisions and actions differently: Proposal: “I suggest we move the launch to Friday.” Decision: “We are moving the launch to Friday.” Action: “Marc will update the schedule by Wednesday.” Tentative action: “Marc may update it, pending confirmation.” At transition points, repeat what was agreed: “The decision is Friday.” “Marc owns the schedule update.” “The deadline is Wednesday.” Uncertainty should also be explicit: “Owner to confirm.” “Deadline is provisional.” “This is a proposal, not a decision.” The AI should receive these rules directly: - Treat explicit decision language as confirmed. - Do not assign an owner unless ownership is clear. - Label tentative deadlines as tentative. - Flag uncertain speakers instead of guessing. - Prefer later explicit summaries over earlier ambiguous wording. The AI should also receive team context: name, role, responsibilities, decision authority, terminology and communication patterns. Example: Pieter Vermeulen Operations Usually responsible for scheduling and logistics. Often uses tentative language for proposals. Only assign ownership when he explicitly confirms it. These notes should stay transparent and editable. People should be able to review, change or reject notes about their own communication patterns. The report should use a fixed structure: Meeting title Date Participants Main topics Decisions Action items Owner Deadline Status Open questions Risks or dependencies Items requiring confirmation TL;DR This can be built into a shared internal assistant. It receives the meeting grammar, team information, transcript and output template. It should be conservative about certainty: Owner unclear → “Owner to confirm” Suggested deadline → “Tentative deadline” Unknown speaker → “Speaker unclear” Discussed proposal → “Proposal discussed, not confirmed” A human still reviews speaker attribution, decisions, owners, deadlines and confirmed items. Then the corrected report is fed back to the AI: “Which errors came from unclear meeting signals? Which came from missing team context? Which came from your interpretation? What should be improved?” The AI can suggest updates to the meeting grammar or team information. Example: Error: Several people discussed a task, but nobody clearly accepted ownership. Suggested grammar update: “When assigning an action, confirm owner and deadline in one sentence.” Or: Observed pattern: “Pieter often says ‘we should’ when proposing something.” Suggested profile update: “Treat ‘we should’ as a proposal unless explicitly confirmed.” Profile changes should be reviewed before they are stored. The workflow: meeting → transcript → AI report → human correction → error analysis → grammar/team-context update → review → next meeting Over time, fewer errors should need correction because the system becomes easier to interpret. The division of labor is simple: The transcriber captures everything. Humans resolve meaning and ambiguity. AI structures, summarizes and detects patterns. AI output quality depends not only on the prompt, but on the signals the AI receives. Sometimes the best improvement is to reduce ambiguity before it reaches the model.

Build a Tiny HTML Research Logger Instead of Fighting a Spreadsheet Turn repeated research measurements into a simple phone-friendly interface instead of making participants wrestle with spreadsheets. Some research data is simple. Collecting it often isn't. Imagine recording pain, energy, mood and a few additional variables several times during a study. A spreadsheet can technically do this. But on a phone? Open the file, find the right row, locate the columns, enter values without accidentally changing something, save and close. That's a ridiculous amount of interface for a tiny measurement. If recording how you feel takes ten seconds mentally but two minutes administratively, the tool has become part of the research burden. So I asked: What is the smallest interface someone actually needs when logging an observation? My answer was a tiny HTML page that works on both phone and desktop. 1. Separate the interface from the dataset Participants shouldn't need to interact with rows, columns or database structures. They should see a few simple fields: Pain, Energy, Mood, Optional Note and Save. Behind the interface, each submission becomes a structured record containing the measurements, a timestamp and any optional context. The researcher gets organised data. The participant gets simple controls. 2. Define the research measures first Before asking AI to build anything, establish what you're measuring. Which variables matter? What does each scale mean? Which values are allowed? Should measurements remain comparable over time? These are research decisions, not interface-design decisions. AI can help implement your measurement system, but shouldn't quietly invent the methodology. 3. Design for repeated use A questionnaire completed once can tolerate some friction. A logger used several times a day cannot. Make controls large enough to tap comfortably. Use readable labels, vertical layouts and obvious actions. Avoid unnecessary navigation, tiny cells and repeated setup. Design for the phone first, then let the interface adapt to larger screens. And test the fifth entry, not just the first. Something that looks elegant during development can become irritating when you're tired, distracted or recording yet another observation. The ideal repeated action is almost boring. That's a compliment. 4. Automate the invisible work Participants shouldn't have to enter information the system already knows. A logger can automatically generate timestamps, record identifiers and technical metadata. Each submission should become one coherent record. Show a clear confirmation when saving succeeds and prevent accidental duplicates. Keep optional notes available without turning every measurement into a diary assignment. Don't make participants do the database's job. 5. Keep the interface neutral A research logger is a measurement instrument. Its colours, labels, ordering and controls shouldn't subtly suggest which answers are desirable. Likewise, the logger doesn't need to interpret someone's measurements or announce that their mood seems lower on Tuesdays. That's analysis, not collection. First gather observations reliably. Interpret them later using appropriate research methods. 6. Decide where the data lives A single HTML file can provide the interface without requiring a full application. But HTML alone doesn't provide persistent storage or synchronisation. Browser storage may work for a local prototype, although it has limitations. For research involving several devices, participants or longer periods, you'll need suitable storage and export options. A phone and laptop displaying the same interface don't automatically share observations. Keep the dataset consistent and exportable, for example as CSV. For sensitive information, include appropriate privacy and security safeguards. 7. Build only what's necessary It's tempting to expand a tiny logger into an entire platform. Dashboards! Charts! Profiles! Notifications! Accounts! Perhaps later. Start with Open → Measure → Save. Test the process repeatedly on phone and desktop. Improve whatever causes genuine friction. You can enlarge buttons or rearrange the layout without changing the study. But changing a measurement scale is a research-design decision, not a cosmetic update. The workflow Define the variables and scales → ask AI to build a responsive HTML logger → add automatic timestamps and structured records → choose suitable storage and export methods → test repeated logging → refine usability without changing the measurements. Why this works A spreadsheet is excellent at displaying a dataset. That doesn't make it the best place to create one. Researchers think in variables, records and analysis. Participants simply need to answer the question in front of them. Those shouldn't have to be the same interface. Sometimes the best research tool isn't a sophisticated platform. It's a tiny page that gets the spreadsheet out of the participant's way.

I built a custom GPT with the personalities of Einstein, Lorentz, Planck, and Compton. Starting with Einstein’s 1920 Leiden lecture, I developed an ontology for physical space based on his description of the “new ether.” I began with E=mc2, E=hf, and my ontological modeling assumptions. I then repeatedly pushed ChatGPT to challenge those assumptions and interpretations logically and mathematically. We used numerous tool calls and reference sites to write and test the math. After many months of working on it in my spare time, the GPT now unifies equations that balance from the atomic scale to the black hole scale, with some remarkable revelations. I summarized much of the work in a paper written by my GPT and am happy to share it so others can expand, improve, and test the work. AI rocks. Step-by-step: 1. I built a custom GPT with the personalities of Einstein, Lorentz, Planck, and Compton. 2. I used Einstein’s 1920 Leiden lecture and his description of the “new ether” to develop an ontology for physical space. 3. I started with E=mc2, E=hf, and my ontological modeling assumptions. 4. I repeatedly challenged the assumptions and interpretations with ChatGPT, focusing on logical and mathematical consistency. 5. I used numerous tool calls and reference sites to write and test the math. 6. After many months of working on the project in my spare time, I summarized much of it in a paper written by my GPT. 7. I am sharing the work so others can expand, improve, and test it.

We used ChatGPT to make renting out our house in France for the first time far less overwhelming. By the end of the summer, we had hosted four families. Although the whole process was a lot of work, creating one master file with useful facts about the house was a major time-saver. It included everything from Wi-Fi and coffeemaker instructions to lighting quirks and bin days. From that document, AI built a room-by-room preparation checklist, drafted and translated a house guide in French and English, wrote separate listings for Airbnb and a local rental site, and created guest messages ranging from booking confirmations to check-in instructions. For pricing, we spoke with a local agent. AI’s final task was to flag the French administrative, tax, registration, and insurance details that we needed to sort out ourselves. Step-by-step: 1. We created one master file containing useful facts and practical details about the house, including Wi-Fi, coffeemaker instructions, lighting quirks, and bin days. 2. We used the file to have AI create a room-by-room preparation checklist. 3. We asked AI to draft and translate a house guide in French and English. 4. We had AI write separate rental listings for Airbnb and a local rental site. 5. We used AI to create guest messages, including booking confirmations and check-in instructions. 6. We met with a local agent for advice on pricing. 7. We asked AI to flag the French administrative, tax, registration, and insurance details we needed to handle ourselves. 8. By the end of the summer, we had hosted four families.

I used AI to reconstruct more than two decades of professional work scattered across old publications, broken links, archives, indexes, and surviving records. The difficult part was not finding possible matches; it was preventing AI from turning incomplete evidence into false certainty. I built a workflow that treats archive reconstruction as a verification problem rather than a search problem. The process separates verified work from probable matches, resolves same-name conflicts, deduplicates reprints and syndicated copies, preserves source provenance, and treats missing years as research gaps rather than permission to invent records. The result was a source-tracked professional archive containing 250+ recovered records across more than 20 years. The workflow can be adapted to journalism, research, consulting, creative work, speaking histories, or any long-term body of professional output. I use the following research-archivist workflow: - Never invent titles, dates, publications, URLs, or authorship. - Separate records into VERIFIED, PROBABLE, and REJECTED. - Treat same-name individuals as separate identities until evidence proves otherwise. - Deduplicate syndicated copies, reprints, mirrors, indexes, and cached pages. - Preserve provenance for every verified record. - Mark gaps rather than filling them. - Distinguish “not found,” “unverified,” and “confirmed absent.” - State uncertainty explicitly. Step-by-step: 1. Ask for names and bylines, employers, publications, career dates, subject areas, known titles, source files, URLs, and any same-name conflicts. 2. Build an identity fingerprint. 3. Establish verified seed records. 4. Search iteratively across multiple query patterns and sources. 5. Classify every result. 6. Resolve identity conflicts. 7. Deduplicate records. 8. Normalize metadata. 9. Build a chronology. 10. Identify and search gaps. 11. Run a provenance and error audit. The final output includes: - Verified Master Archive - Probable / Needs Verification - Rejected / Other Person - Gap List - Source Notes - Final Audit The archive is never described as complete unless the evidence supports that conclusion.

I develop the song with ChatGPT, working through the lyrics, structure, mood, and sound tags. I then move the concept into Suno, which generates the music. Once the track is finished, my ChatGPT agent handles the download and archiving workflow where site authentication allows it. ChatGPT also creates the visual artwork. I assemble the finished song and image into a full video and a Short in Clipchamp. From there, I publish the content to YouTube and TikTok, then share the release across Facebook, LinkedIn, and X. What makes this workflow interesting is not any single AI tool, but the handoff between them: writing, music generation, file handling, image creation, video assembly, publishing, and distribution—all directed by one human creative process. The result is a practical, end-to-end AI-assisted production pipeline rather than a single AI-generated output. Step-by-step: 1. I work with ChatGPT to develop the lyrics, structure, mood, and sound tags. 2. I move the concept into Suno to generate the music. 3. Once the track is finished, my ChatGPT agent downloads and archives it where site authentication allows. 4. I use ChatGPT to create the visual artwork. 5. I combine the finished song and image in Clipchamp to create a full video and a Short. 6. I publish the finished content to YouTube and TikTok. 7. I share the release across Facebook, LinkedIn, and X.