Creative Reflection: A Year of Two AIs, Two Selves, and Asking Better Questions

This year, I spent a lot of time thinking. Not just about what I create, but how I think while creating it. I asked myself questions, tested ideas, and out of curiosity, ran those questions past AI. More than once. In different contexts. With very different results.

Picture with two versions of the same AI.

What surprised me was not what the tools said. It was how clearly my own boundaries showed up in the answers.

For my creative side, I was told I am a working artist with a playful mind and a practical backbone. I blend humor, observation, and empathy, whether I am writing about insects with secret lives, goats with diner waitress energy, or my own winding, slightly chaotic creative path. I care deeply about presentation, how art is described, framed, titled, hung, and understood by others. I am generous by nature, food planning, hosting, sharing recipes, making sure everyone takes something home, and that generosity spills into how I think about audiences for my art and writing. I am both intuitive and strategic. I trust my instincts, but I also want things done well. SEO. Gallery fit. Spacing. Pacing. Timing. I am not dabbling. I am building.

Reading that felt like seeing my year laid out in paint layers. Every painting, every story, every odd observation fits into a larger pattern. Curiosity guided by care. Whimsy anchored in discipline. Chaos shaped into something others can step into without needing a helmet. It felt alive. Familiar. Slightly strange in the best way.

Then there was the work version.

In my professional life, the reflection was precise, structured, and refreshingly unsentimental. I thrive when solving complex problems that demand clarity and structure. I am often the person others turn to when details matter and precision is non-negotiable. I step into situations where things need to be right, aligning moving parts, clarifying expectations, and making sure the foundation is solid before anything moves forward.

My communication style there is concise, constructive, and solution oriented. I focus on translating complexity into clear, actionable steps others can follow with confidence. Over the past year, I have shifted from reacting to individual issues to building repeatable frameworks that make life easier for everyone. I have moved beyond individual contributions into shaping processes, anchoring decisions to principles and guardrails, and applying my expertise across new contexts without lowering standards.

In other words, no goats. No secret insect lives. No paint on the keyboard.

Seen this way, the whole exercise becomes less about AI and more about creative reflection, about noticing how different parts of a life speak when asked the same question.

What struck me most was not the contrast, but the separation. I do not blur work and painting. I do not need to. Each part of my life has its own logic, language, and purpose. AI, for me, is not a creative engine or a decision maker. It is a verification tool. A mirror. A way to check whether my internal compass is still pointing where I think it is.

Looking at both reflections side by side, I can see the through line. Intention. Care. A desire to build things that hold, whether that is a process, a painting, or a story someone recognizes themselves in. One side values guardrails. The other values curiosity. Together, they make a life that feels both grounded and expansive.

So where does this all lead.

Probably to more asking. More building. More painting. More clarity at work. And occasionally, a goat that looks suspiciously like it has opinions about your coffee order.

Honestly, that feels like a pretty solid direction.

I plan on asking how I can be "better" next year. I'll let you know what it suggests! ;)

If any of this resonates, I invite you to reflect on your own year, your own creative paths, and maybe share a story or two. Ask the questions, follow the curiosities, and let the process surprise you.

Thanks for reading The 3rd Flamingo, a blog for art lovers, creative wanderers, and anyone who’s ever made a beautiful mess.