I’m often awake at 4am. I’m not sure if I’ve explained that here, but I call it my hour. 4am. For AM. For Anna M. Or Andrews-Mills. 4am. My hour. Sometimes, I write. Sometimes, I sit by the fire. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes, I ask questions, make art, pet the dog, stretch. The list goes on.

The five am hour fast approaches when I finally find my flow. When that hits, I tend to switch gears.

Maybe from school, ever hour is a new subject. Maybe from work, only so long to work on a single thing before the next meeting. Five am. My fitness hour. From Tai-bo boxing before high school, to a warm shower, a stretch, or even a healthy snack. Five am fitness.

Six am comes even faster. That’s when the research starts. My research hour. Maybe something popped up in my hour, or my fitness hour, or something been tickling my brain days or weeks. This hour is for those explorations. That research. Those threads. My six am research hour.

4am – My hour.
5am – Fitness hour.
6am – Research hour.

These hours often blend and mesh, swip and swap, ebb and flow, much like the tide. And sometimes, it’s about fittin’ this ass back into bed and researhing the inside of these eyelids.

But today… Today. I’m stuck on thoughts about agents, ai, llms. Curiosity, creativity, and inspiration. I’ve thought of these before, but where do they come from. What are they to these new things we are exploring. Can they even be translated. Do they need to be?

It seems all I have is more questions.

The tug of living is fast approaching. Coffee is starting to sound good. A fire is needed. I’m thinking about my dad, and to-do lists. The person next to me stirs. The dog barks. The geese honk. The stomach growls.

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Hope against hope, wish against wish, I think there will be more of this.

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