What Actually Moves People | AI Survival Diary #33
AI Survival Diary Series | #33
What actually moves people
In post #32, I landed on this:
"Rather than chasing some job that supposedly won't disappear, I think the more honest starting point is trying AI on my own work, and seeing for myself whether it's a tool that lightens the load, or a technology that's starting to shrink the job itself."
Following that question kept leading me to another one.
So then — what actually survives, in the end?
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One thing, at least, doesn't seem likely to disappear easily.
Moving people's hearts.
Writing. Video. Food. Clothes.
No matter how much AI can produce, the one who watches, buys, chooses, and likes something is still a person.
Something in a person has to move, before any action follows.
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Thinking that through, I turned the question back on myself.
Does my writing — my videos — actually move anyone?
Over a year into this series, I've started to see my own level more clearly.
When I wrote, I'd think, "this insight is decent enough."
But once it went up, the response never quite matched what I'd hoped.
At first I wondered if I'd picked the wrong direction entirely.
Then I started watching the videos that actually did well, over and over. And something else became clear.
"Huh — even I enjoy watching this."
"This is the bar you have to clear, to get real views."
Whether it moved you, helped you, told you something you didn't know, or just hooked your curiosity —
every one of them was, simply, worth watching.
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And then this thought came too.
"I've only just seen my own level — can I actually get better from here?"
"If I keep at it long enough, will it add up to something?"
A lot of thoughts, all at once.
And then, out of nowhere:
"This is basically starting a business. Being a creator."
"And this space is a genuine, all-out competition too."
The online market is bigger than offline, sure — but the competition is just as fierce, in proportion.
Can this actually sustain a living, in here?
I think I'm only now starting to see that reality clearly.
And looking at it through that lens, I went back and looked at everything I'd written so far.
If I'd known it would go this poorly, take this long, feel this uncertain —
I probably wouldn't have started at all.
Knocking on a door, over and over, with no idea when it'll open.
That's about where I'm standing right now.
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And one more thought keeps showing up.
Watching YouTube, watching TV — a lot of the well-known lecturers out there are around my age.
"Why can't I do that?"
Every time that question surfaces, I ask myself again.
Is this really just because I'm not good enough?
Then something from post #31 came back to me.
The famous, visible ones are the tiny few who made it through a very narrow door, out of a huge crowd.
I'm currently standing with the vast majority — still knocking, on the other side of that door.
Sure, ability is part of it. There's plenty for me to still get better at.
But at the same time, it was never a system where effort alone gets everyone through that narrow door.
This might not be entirely about my own ability.
From the start, it was a structure where huge numbers try, and only a tiny fraction ever reach the visible spot.
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It brought back my school years, out of nowhere.
"If I work hard, I'll get into a good university someday."
The more I ran toward that belief, the more I realized the wall that had looked small was actually several times my height.
Working life felt similar.
By my 40s or 50s, I thought I'd be further along than this...
It just didn't turn out that way.
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At this age, there's plenty to regret, but one thing I know for certain:
right now is as good as it gets.
Knowing that, I try to be happy in this moment — and then, somehow, I'm back to worrying over something hard, stressed out again.
And then I think, once more: "okay, let me try to be happy, right now."
Maybe that's just what middle age is.
Settling for a little less than the goal. Knowing the present is worth something, without quite being able to feel it. Regretting it anyway.
My head understands. My heart still doesn't fully cooperate.
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So, what does this tell us?
I started believing that if I just worked hard enough, I'd eventually arrive somewhere I wanted to be.
But the longer I kept at it, the higher the wall turned out to be — and standing in front of it, I started to see my own level, little by little.
Even in the AI era, moving people's hearts doesn't seem likely to disappear easily.
But the number of people trying to do exactly that might only grow.
So maybe what matters, in the end, isn't what you make — it's whether what you made actually moves someone.
And right now, I'm turning that question back onto my own writing, my own videos.
I still don't know if the door will open.
I don't know if I'm the one who'll manage to open it.
But for now, I think I'll keep knocking on that door.
In the next post, I want to follow one more question: in the middle of this endless competition, is there any way to actually get a little better?
