Confessions of a Craft-Obsessed Creative: My Battle with Copycats and the Muse of AI

Jarsah Beyan Presents "Show me the money"

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Faq Ask questions 

Jarsah are you  Dating anyone?

I am private but no Im not dating anyone.
Are you online looking for a date? No, I am just focusing on myself and upcoming creative projects.

LOL,just In case any noisy butts out there wondering. More great projects coming out soon.

Do you have any kids? No, just aunty babies. 

How tall are you?5/8

                              

  My Battle with Copycats & AI

 Imagine walking around with a kaleidoscope inside your head, constantly churning out vibrant ideas that demand to be brought to life. That's me, a chronic case of "craft-obesity". My apartment explodes with the remnants of artistic explosions - paintings that scream emotions, sculptures whispering forgotten stories, poems etched on anything I can grab. Some nights, inspiration comes from the unlikeliest places. The negativity thrown my way by jealous trolls? Transformed into raw, powerful pieces. Each creation, a testament to resilience, sculpted from the flames of negativity.

But wait, isn't AI supposed to be the new artist in town? Don't get me wrong, I dig AI as a playful assistant. It helps me experiment and throws wild ideas around, but the spark, the heart of everything, is mine. Sure, it generates cool images, but without that human touch, it's just painted by numbers. It's like comparing a store-bought costume to one stitched with love and laughter.

Speaking of laughter, have I told you about my epic craft party? Imagine a haven of color, creativity flowing like spilled paint, and hesitant hands transforming into confident creators. That's the real magic, you see. Sharing the spark, igniting the artist within others.

But here's the rub: some folks online think I'm a one-woman AI factory, churning out content with a click. The audacity! Let me tell you, creating original content, from podcasts to poems, is like running a marathon fueled by passion and valerian tea (okay, maybe some CBD too). It takes blood, sweat, and inspiration (not to mention countless cups of tea!), not some magic algorithm.

I dedicate the song above to you Curtis. Scroll all the way down and read.

And to those big-name startup AI companies that steal my ideas and pretend I use their AI script to translate my poemcast or images you see on my poemcast, don't be deceived fellow creatives. I worked for a whole week manually translating my poemcast and adding music to it from scratch. I am used to staying silent and having big-name companies earn millions by pretending I used their bots to translate my poem cast, thinking it's a free-for-all. Shame on you. Copying is the ultimate insult to the heart and soul poured into every creation. Just because it looks effortless online doesn't mean it was. There's an invisible artist behind every piece, their struggle woven into the fabric of their work.

So, remember, there's an artist in all of us. But true creativity thrives on the human touch, not the cold logic of machines. Let's embrace AI as a tool, not a replacement. Let's celebrate the messy, passionate journey of creation because in the end, it's not about fame or fortune, but about leaving our unique mark on the world. Now, who's ready to get craft-obsessed with me? Watch the video below and let's get creative!

PS, I use Bard and Canva and other software for all my original prewritten poem cast and original images. No Ai you see on my blog helped me generate content. I decided to write this blog because companies watch me online and pretend I use them to create all my poem cast content when I only use their 1-second image generator. I am tired of AI companies offering a 5-dollar discount off a 15-dollar ai photo generator for an interview to promote their product while they make millions on my ideas and concepts without giving me a piece of the pie or credit

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So, yeah, I’ve been swamped lately. I mean, who could’ve guessed that balancing 82 different projects and “once-in-a-lifetime” opportunities would be a tad overwhelming? But don’t worry—my goal this year is to dust off all those glorious, “you’d-sell-your-soul-for-these” chances I’ve put on hold, and finally tackle every single one. And if you happen to be one of those people who kindly remind me about an opportunity I still haven't gotten to, please, don’t take it personally. I’m not ignoring you, I swear—I’ve just been a *tad* busy trying to learn data science, coding, and becoming a better animator. You know, *that* light hobby of learning to code and wrestle with data, because clearly, I thought I didn't have enough on my plate.

And while we’re on the subject, Mr. D. Curtis, hello again. I've noticed you've been crashing my zen lately, advertising your unfortunate “homeless” status in the background of my photos. But I must say, the irony is rich, given that you once faked a death certificate on me just to get your paws on my grandparents’ estate. Living the high life back then, weren’t you? While I was “deceased,” you were rolling in it, living large and proud. So if you’re hoping I’ll weep for your latest plight...well, you might need to grab a few tissues because my sympathies are fresh out.Well I guess Im too real & calm for most.

Oh, and it turns out your team of overseas partners in crime? They’re “otherwise occupied” at the moment, probably running faster than you at this point. You know, it’s funny: they’ll scheme with you, party hard, live it up on scammed luxury, but the second those jail doors creak open? Poof, they vanish. So you’ll be enjoying your alone time soon enough, right here on U.S. soil—no need to thank me.

But let me end with some good news. You didn’t get to *all* my family. Somehow, one heroic relative had the spine to stay loyal, wouldn’t take the hush money you offered, and, shocker, didn’t sell me out. So maybe that little shred of decency will help you sleep better at night...although, considering your past stunts, who am I kidding?

Anyway, I’ve got data science to conquer, and all those “mind-blowing” projects are waiting to be finished. So, if you could kindly not mess with my peace? Much appreciated. Bye now. Wondering who told? Well when you try to practice good karma, the men upstairs tend to let you know what going on behind your back in secret.