✨KITTING AROUND✨
🌟 BLOG 360–Are you a r-o-b-o-t? 🌟
This Video will let you know more about me–
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8QFnD1yGc
This Blog is Best Read on a Laptop, Rather than Your Phone.
By KIT SUMMERS — World-Class Juggler to World-Class Comeback
To Learn More about Kit, Go Here >> https://kitsummers.com/about-kit/
Once upon a life, I made gravity nervous—
Headlining at Ballys, tossing clubs with a grin.
Seven of them. A world record—
Because physics loves a good insult. 😄
Then came the truck—the coma.
Thirty-seven silent days offstage.
And here I am now—not juggling clubs.
But throwing purpose, grit, and joy.
Balancing healing, catching courage.
Tossing hope sky-high. 🤹♂️
The mission grew bigger than applause.
Now I lift humans. I write to stay connected.
I write because it’s how I breathe.
If these words help you, too?
That’s magic catching air. 🎉
What’s next on Kit’s journey through life?
Back to juggling? Back to life?
Stay with Kit and find out.
Life can get better.
Life will get better. ✨
1) THE BEGINNINGS
Every story asks this question first: Where do I begin?
The answer is simple—and also complicated.
It began a long, long time ago, when I was very young…
Lately, things don’t seem to be lining up for me in a good way. Or is that the way I am perceiving it? My daughters, Jasmine and April, don’t call or connect with me. I’ve become very lonely without anyone. And so many other things.
At this point, you already know I use ChatGPT.com—
and let me be crystal clear, spotlight-on-the-stage clear:
Every idea. Every sentence. Every story.
They all start inside my own head. 🧠✨
I write the blog. I choose the words. I wrestle with the thoughts.
Then—only then—I invite Chat in like a trusted editor who says,
“Hey… what if we polished this diamond just a little more?”
Chat doesn’t think for me.
It doesn’t feel for me. It doesn’t live for me.
It helps me clarify, tighten, and brighten—like good lighting on a stage that was already built. 🎭💡
The voice is mine. The heartbeat is mine. The scars and sparks are mine.
Think of it this way:
I’m still the juggler, throwing objects into the air.
Chat helps me keep them flying better… and shining a little brighter. 🤹♂️✨
The soul? 100% human.
The experience? Earned the hard way.
The juggling? Chat helps me keep the balls in the air—dropping fewer along the way.
The words? Mine—just wearing a cleaner, sharper suit when they step out to meet you.
And if they sparkle a bit more now?
Good. That means the message got through. 💥💙
2) THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK
Kit’s Daily Delights — Inspiration, Served Fresh.
>>>>> January 10—A Red Crayon?
This morning turned into a marathon of modern medicine—minus the running. 🩺😄
I arrived at the doctor’s office at 8:00 a.m., bright-eyed and compliant, and stayed until nearly noon… mostly waiting for one small but mighty event: a blood draw.
Yes. Hours. For blood.
At one point, I considered asking if I could borrow a red crayon—and draw my own blood, but they didn’t go for it. (Relax, medical professionals, I did not actually attempt a DIY phlebotomy.
Humor only. 😉)
In fairness, blood work isn’t trivial. It’s a crucial diagnostic snapshot—checking things like electrolytes, kidney function, inflammation markers, medication levels, and all those invisible numbers that quietly run the body’s backstage operations. These tests help rule things out, confirm what’s working, and catch what might be drifting off course. Slow? Yes. Important? Also yes.
But still… a long wait is a long wait.
Back at NR, the weekend rhythm kicked in—the familiar low-pulse pace. Fewer staff, fewer activities, fewer therapies. Weekends here tend to be more about maintenance than momentum. Bodies heal on their own schedules, and sometimes the best medicine available is rest, patience, and not throwing your red crayons at anyone. 🎨
So today was one of those days:
Not dramatic.
Not productive.
Not forward-charging.
No juggling involved.
But still part of the process.
Healing isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it whispers,
“Sit still. We’re working.”
>>>>> January 11—It’s a funny thing
I sit down each day with no map, no plan, no GPS recalculating.
Then suddenly… ideas show up.
They tap me on the shoulder,
Clear their throats,
And say, “Write us down.”
So I do.
And somewhere between the first word and the last sentence, a path appears.
Not because I forced it—but because I trusted it.
So tell me, my friend…
Sunday Musings from the Peanut Gallery ☀️
Sunday showed up right on schedule. I noticed—pleasantly—that church and God are not part of the NR program. Good. Religion and belief are deeply personal things, and they belong right there: personal. If believing in a religious God helps you, excellent—truly. Carry it proudly — don’t push it on me!
It’s just never been my path. For me, it’s a little sad to see how much time people spend inventing stories instead of living their lives—but hey, to each their own cosmic playlist.🎶Humans have invented thousands of gods. If you have one, how did you pick yours? It’s probably how you were raised.
At 7 a.m., the scale made its dramatic entrance. 190 pounds. Yikes. 😬
My happy place is closer to 160. But let’s be fair—being here means no real chance to run, juggle, or properly move my body the way it loves to move. This isn’t laziness; it’s logistics.
This is not a setback. It’s a pause before momentum.
The scale doesn’t get the final vote—movement does.
And movement is coming. 🌱💥 watch me.
Here’s the good news, and it’s juicy. 🍅
The new place they’re setting me up to move to?
More land. More space. More freedom.
Room to juggle. Room to run. Room to think.
Room to grow a garden that will try to take over the planet.
Here he goes again—the man across the hall. I won’t say his name.
This time, he moved down the hallway on his hands and knees, completely naked.
His mind is injured. Guard yours carefully.
My heart went first to the nurse who stepped in to help him—and just as strongly to him. His mind drifts far from the present, untethered from place, purpose, even from himself. This is not a choice. His injury has taken the wheel, and he is no longer steering.
I just found out the man who lived across the hall has been moved to a full hospital—somewhere with more tools than NR can offer. I felt a real ache for him. When a brain injury takes the steering wheel, life can veer off in heartbreaking ways. None of this was his choice.
I hope he’s surrounded now by patience, skill, love, and kindness—and by people who remember the person still in there, even when his mind forgets the map. Moments like this remind me how fragile we all are… and how much compassion still matters, maybe more than anything. 💛
Moments like this land heavily.
They press on the chest and linger.
They remind us how fragile the mind truly is—and how deeply we depend on compassion when it falters. None of us is immune. None of us is promised clarity forever. The line between “me” and “that could be me” is thinner than we like to admit.
So we are invited—again and again—to ask the essential questions.
Not in panic, but in presence:
1–Who am I—beneath the labels and roles?
2–What am I becoming, right now, in this breath?
3–And what’s next—if I meet it with honesty, courage, and care?
These questions aren’t meant to frighten us.
They’re meant to wake us up. 🌱
So once again, I say this gently but firmly: protect your mind.
Care for it. Challenge it. Rest it. Feed it beauty and truth.
It is precious. It is powerful.
And it is the only one you have.
Brain injury can do that. It can hijack a person’s dignity, their awareness, their sense of self. It can take over a life—and sometimes not in gentle ways. Moments like that remind me how fortunate I am to have the level of control I still do. Grateful, aware, and humbled all at once.
A strange kind of tiredness has crept in lately. Not the ordinary, “I stayed up too late” kind—but a heavy, foggy sleepiness that rolls through my day without warning. Even when I believe I’ve slept enough, it arrives anyway, uninvited and undeniable.
This isn’t something I’ve always known. It’s only surfaced over the past few months, quietly but persistently, as if my body flipped a switch without asking my permission. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t invite it. Yet here it is—another reminder that sometimes life changes the rules mid-game, and all we can do is notice, adapt, and keep moving forward with as much grace as we can muster. 🌱
I went out today to pick up trash and cigarette butts. I skipped it yesterday—and wow, did the ground keep score. In one small patch alone, I counted at least thirty-five butts. 35. It still amazes me how often smoking seems to come with an invisible permission slip to litter anywhere. I may need to quietly observe who’s using that spot… the planet has filed a complaint. 🌍🚫
And then—whoops—my mind wandered into darker territory again. Those heavy thoughts showed up, the ones that whisper about un-life, about not seeing a future, about wondering why I even stay around. I hate when that happens. I can feel how I spiral, how my own thoughts pile on and make it harder to climb back out.
But here’s the truth I’m relearning, slowly and stubbornly: these thoughts are visitors, not landlords. They arrive uninvited, make a mess, and eventually leave. When they do, it helps to say something—to write it, to tell someone, to let a little air in. I’m still here. Still picking things up and still choosing, again and again, to stay.
And for today, that’s enough. 🌱
>>>>> January 12–Up long before the birds
The day began before dawn, my mind already awake while the world still slept.
Therapies were minimal today.
At 10 a.m., OT began—but the activity wasn’t for me. Another bean-bag-through-a-hole game. Cornhole’s cousin. I know these games work for some people, but for me, they feel like motion without meaning. Time is precious. I want mine to matter.
From 11 to 12, we gathered as a group to name all the U.S. states. Hints were offered. I knew most of them—having been to every state myself—but often stayed quiet so others could participate. Still, I felt the gap. Being in a room where the level of thinking is usually more difficult than my own, it’s exhausting. I don’t say that with judgment—just honesty.
While I was downstairs, I saw Terrie and asked about a few things for the garden. She reminded me I’m not supposed to be out there alone. That ship had already sailed—I’d been out there early this morning, gardening and cleaning. Maybe they don’t know yet. Either way, I’ll be moving on soon. I’m hoping the next place allows more trust, more freedom, and a little less absurdity.
Lately, I feel detached. Numb. Lonely. Afraid of what comes next. I hate admitting that.
What I do know—without question—is this: no one gets to control me or my will. Still, being here feels like watching my life idle in neutral while the clock keeps ticking. That’s the part that hurts the most.
This afternoon, I returned from a follow-up with the doctor—the same one who previously widened my throat and performed the colonoscopy. I had concerns. He found an issue in my throat, and they’ll be going back in to fix it. Another chapter. Another repair.
Still standing.
Still here.
Still moving—however slowly—forward.
And tomorrow?
We try again. 🌱
>>>>> January 13—More doctors
This morning began with yet another doctor’s appointment, followed by another one this afternoon. My body seems determined to audition for a medical mystery series. Random cramps pop up in different places, joining forces with the swelling in my legs. That’s just swell, indeed. I can’t help but wonder—what’s next?
Right now, I’m staring at two pills. Vitamins, technically. And yet I hesitate. I’m afraid they’ll get stuck in my throat. I hate that feeling—the panic, the helplessness. Truth be told, I don’t like much about life right now. When everything feels this heavy, it’s hard not to ask: if you don’t want to be here, why take pills at all?
Only one official stop on today’s itinerary: speech group with Lillie.
No parade. No confetti cannons.
Just me, a chair, and my ever-mysterious memory. 🧠✨
Of course, it turned into more memory work—
The very muscle that currently behaves like a cat.
Sometimes it comes when called.
Sometimes it stares at me, yawns, and walks away.
But here’s the quieter truth humming underneath it all:
Showing up still counts. Struggling still counts.
Sitting in the room and giving it an honest go? That absolutely counts. 💪
Memory may be wobbly, but effort isn’t.
Curiosity isn’t. Heart isn’t.
So today wasn’t about nailing answers or impressing anyone.
It was about practicing patience. Laughing when I could.
And reminding myself—again—that progress doesn’t always look like victory laps.
Sometimes it looks like staying in the game. 🎯
One group. One effort.
One more brick laid in the long, slow, noble rebuild.
And that, my friend, is nothing. ✨
Of course, it turned into more memory work—
The very muscle that currently behaves like a cat.
Sometimes it comes when called.
Sometimes it stares at me, yawns, and walks away.
I won’t sugarcoat it: this is not my strong suit right now.
Names slip. Details vanish. Facts do the Houdini.
And yes—watching that happen can sting.
Part of me wants to run—into the wild, into nowhere—and disappear for a while. This morning we drove nearly an hour to see a psychiatrist. Not really for me, I don’t think. I don’t know what could help my mental state right now. I know people want to help. I know I have to help myself, too. I just never imagined my life would feel this painfully off-track.
I can’t remember the name of the person who drove me this morning. The driver this afternoon—Karen—said nothing the entire ride. She went too fast, blew through stop signs, and kept the radio on in Spanish. The lack of words and the reckless driving rattled me. I was deeply relieved when we finally arrived.
As I headed in to see the doctor, I suggested Karen check out my website. She replied, “Why would I want to do that?” Fair enough. I wasn’t trying to recruit traffic—just offering a small window into who I am. Still, the comment landed harder than I expected.
Some days, even the smallest moments echo louder than they should. Yes—there’s a lot of noise lately. Inside. Outside. Everywhere. Still, I hold on to this hope: that my words might help you reach for your best, even when mine feel just out of reach.
Every day I tell myself, “Things have got to get better tomorrow.”
Then tomorrow arrives… and it looks suspiciously like today.
But hope is stubborn. And so am I.
So I keep speaking, keep writing,
keep believing that one of these tomorrows
will finally wink back and say, “Here we go.” 🌱✨
I just checked my feet and lower legs.
THEY’RE HUGE!
I don’t know which doctor to see about this.
I’m getting scared.
Something strange. I just found out they are going to check on me every 15 minutes through the night. I will let you know how it goes.
(Come on now, are those really Kit’s feet?)
>>>>> January 14—Some hurts
Awake by 4 a.m.—before the birds, before the excuses, before the world clears its throat.
Here I go again. I didn’t hear them checking on me through the night, which is a relief. No footsteps. No flashlight pause. Just quiet. I’ll take quiet wherever I can find it these days.
This morning brings more blood work. The familiar rule applies: no eating, no drinking, just waiting. You see, I fast very quickly. Funny how the body becomes a list of instructions instead of a home. As I sit with the emptiness, I catch myself thinking about fasting—really fasting—a whole month. No food. Just willpower, green tea, and stubborn resolve. I know I could do it. Watch me. That fire still lives in here somewhere. 🔥
But I won’t sugarcoat it—things have gotten rough inside my head.
My daughters don’t call.
Loneliness presses in, heavy and uninvited.
My leg feels like it’s staging a full-blown rebellion.
And today… another needle, another vial, another reminder that I’m being measured and tested.
It’s a long list of “bad.” A loud one.
And yet—here I am. Still getting up and still moving forward. Still putting one foot in front of the other, even when I’m not sure what I’m walking toward. Maybe purpose hasn’t shown its face yet. Maybe it’s late. Maybe it’s shy. But I keep going anyway, because stopping has never been my style. 🚶♂️✨
Later, I was supposed to meet with Dino from 1:00 to 1:30, but he didn’t show. So I went looking. There’s something almost poetic about that—when the meeting doesn’t come to you, you find it. Eventually, we crossed paths, and we had a genuinely good conversation. Human. Grounded. Helpful.
And that was it.
That was the entirety of today’s therapy.
As I was working on this, lunch quietly arrived—like a gentle tap on the shoulder from the universe saying, “Hey… pause a moment.” I hadn’t even been keeping track of time. I was in that good place—the lost-in-creation place—where minutes slip by unnoticed, and the world softens around the edges. ✨
Green beans. Scalloped potatoes. Chicken—carefully prepared, cut into bite-sized pieces for a man temporarily traveling with only the upper half of his set of teeth. 😄
And you know what? It mattered.
They feed me well here. Not just calories, but care. Someone thought ahead. Someone made sure I could eat with dignity. Someone remembered me. 💚
It’s a small thing—until it isn’t.
Because in a season when so much feels uncertain, when the big questions loom loud and heavy, these quiet mercies whisper, “You are still being carried.”
Not a packed schedule.
Not a miracle cure.
Just one real conversation—and sometimes, that’s enough to keep the wheels turning.
As I was working on these words, lunch quietly arrived—like a gentle tap on the shoulder from the universe saying, “Hey… pause a moment.” I hadn’t even been keeping track of time. I was in that good place—the lost-in-creation place—where minutes slip by unnoticed, and the world softens around the edges. ✨
Because in a season when so much feels uncertain, when the big questions loom loud and heavy, these quiet mercies whisper, “You are still being carried.”
Sometimes inspiration doesn’t crash in like fireworks. 🎆
Sometimes it arrives on a tray.
Warm. Thoughtful. Ordinary.
And absolutely enough.
Even when the map is missing. 🌱
Every afternoon, right on schedule—
like it has a clipboard and a whistle—
My body waves a little white flag.
Not collapse-on-the-couch tired.
Not run-a-marathon tired.
This is that sneaky, syrupy, eyelids-turn-to-lead sleepy tiredness. 😴
The kind that tiptoes in, sits on your shoulders, and whispers,
“Pssst… wouldn’t it be nice to just… fade out for a bit?”
Now, we all know I don’t get much sleep, and I and sleep are currently in a long-distance relationship. So yes—this afternoon slump may be my body sending a perfectly reasonable memo:
“Dear Kit, you’re running on fumes again.”
A nap might help. A nap would help.
A classic standoff.
An old Western.
High noon in the nervous system. 🤠
And honestly? I don’t yet know the solution.
The answer may be a short nap.
It could be a movement.
It could be forgiveness.
Maybe it’s listening—really listening—to what this tiredness is trying to teach me.
For now, I notice it. I name it.
I don’t beat myself up for it.
Because even though I’m tired, I’m still here.
Still curious. Still playing the long game.
And that, my friends, counts as forward motion—even at half speed. 🚀✨
Come on now — is that really Kit?
But then there’s my mind.
Ah, yes—my ever-vigilant, slightly stubborn, drum-major-with-a-whistle mind. 🥁
It snaps to attention and shouts:
“No naps! We have things to do! Thoughts to think! Words to write! Life to LIVE!”
So there I sit—Body begging for a power-down.
Mind refusing to surrender.
=====
On to a different subject–Somehow, through a clerical error, a cosmic prank, or Cupid with a subscription problem—I’ve been receiving a month-long supply of Viagra every single month. I don’t remember ordering it. I don’t remember needing it. And at the moment, there’s no lucky lady nearby to inspire any blue-pill heroics.
So there they sit.
A drawer full of potential.
A hopeful Kit looking on.
Hope in tablet form.
Confidence… still sealed.
I finally put a six-month pause on the deliveries—not because I’ve given up, oh no—but because I’m optimistic. Because I’m imagining a future where these little blue overachievers won’t gather dust… they’ll rise to the occasion, as I will, too.
Consider this a rain check on passion.
A promise deferred, not denied.
Stay tuned. 😏✨
>>>>> January 15— Theripyness
I spent the morning with Maura for OT. I have only therapy scheduled for today. We started by walking out to the garden to check on how things were growing. It had rained through the night—good, steady rain—the kind that makes the plants quietly smile and maybe, just maybe, makes you take a breath you didn’t know you needed.
Maura noticed my balance and walking were off today. I felt it too. No argument there. It makes me question everything. Am I getting worse, or am I improving? How do I compare to five years ago? Age, me, no–I’m still smiling at the age of 23.
Back inside, we worked on eye–hand coordination with the board I’ve nicknamed Wake-a-Mole. I didn’t do great. After a while, I just stopped trying. That’s been happening more lately. She suggested Scrabble, other games, maybe a puzzle, but I said no. We ended early. It circles back to the same brutal truth: when you don’t really care about living, it’s hard to care about games.
Next up was a cognitive group with Lillie. Word-finding, we played Boggle. I didn’t do well, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t have it in me to care. Here’s how the game works: you make words out of letters that are touching:
T A R S
E I L S
W N O T
R E C A
Words like tar, ton, net, not, and so on. How many can you find?
During the session, a man came through who seemed okay at first—clear speech, normal tone. Then he suddenly started yelling and cursing loudly. The brain injury was speaking for him. It’s a stark reminder of how fragile we all are.
Nothing scheduled for the afternoon, which always makes me wonder why I’m here. And then that strange tiredness came again—the sleepy weight that settles on me. I lay down on the bed, just waiting for something to change (it doesn’t.)
But here’s the quiet flicker of hope: even when it feels like I’m just lying there, waiting, there’s a tiny part of me that notices the rain, that still finds a little curiosity in a game of letters, and that wonders if tomorrow might feel a bit lighter. That tiny spark is still there, even if it’s just a whisper. And sometimes, a whisper of hope is enough to hold onto.
Just got back from making my rounds—the garden, the patio, my little kingdom of care. 🌱👑
One spot looked like a cigarette convention had come to a tragic end—at least 50 spent butts were dumped there. How does someone do that so mindlessly? It’s like littering and apathy shook hands and said, “Let’s ruin this corner.”
Strong winds today, too, so I chased down runaway trash like a one-person cleanup parade. 🧹💨
And yes… I wondered, as I often do:
Does anyone even notice that I’m quietly tending this place?
Keeping it decent.
Keeping it alive.
Even if they don’t—the garden and I know.
And today, that’s enough. 🌿✨
>>>>> January 16 —
Up early, as usual. Jump in the shower (no, I didn’t just go in there and jump up and down). Always feels great to be all cleaned up.
Only one therapy scheduled for today, Dina at 11 for half an hour. I really don’t know how this works in terms of therapy sessions and who sets them up. Why am I kept here??
As I was sleeping last night, this morning I awoke, these words came to mind >>
Speaking with Silence.
Of course, that will go toward a future blog. Do you have any other suggestions for me?
I just found out from the nurse that my weight has been increasing because, for some reason, my body is retaining fluids. She told me I will be given a diuretic later. Oh, lucky me. But I do like the chocolate I consume.
3) 🌟BLOG 360–Are you a r-o-b-o-t?
Click the box, if you can’t, then you ARE a robot!
HUMANS HAVE PERFECT MOVEMENT?
(Short answer: adorable thought. Incorrect answer. 😄)
We keep building robots in our own image.
Two arms. Two legs. A head perched neatly on top.
We’re not perfect, but I haven’t seen any studies on how we can build better. As if the human body were the final draft—Laminated, signed, and stamped “Approved by the Universe.” It isn’t. Robots will likely build themselves better.
Think about it, robots are already catching up to human intelligence. That part is happening fast.
But when it comes to movement, we hand them our exact old blueprint—
Knees that grind, spines that protest, balance that disappears at the worst possible moment.
Why? Because humans are the only model we know. Not because we’re optimal.
Not because we’re efficient. Just… familiar. Nature, meanwhile, is quietly laughing at us.
No one is taking the time to come up with a better format.
Wheels beat feet on roads.
Wings embarrass arms in the sky.
Octopus tentacles run circles around fingers in tight spaces.
No creature is perfect at everything—
So why are we forcing robots to cosplay as humans?
Here’s the real leap.
The grown-up question. The one that makes ego sweat.
What happens when we stop designing robots to look like us…
And let robots design themselves?
No nostalgia. No sacred anatomy. No, “this is how we’ve always done it.”
Just function. Just physics. Just evolution—on fast-forward. 🚀
The future of movement may not be walking.
It may roll. Flow. Glide. Swarm. Fold itself. Unfold itself.
Reshape itself moment by moment, like a thought changing its mind.
The question isn’t whether humans have perfect movement.
We clearly don’t. 😏
The real question is this:
Are we brave enough to let go of ourselves…
To reshape the human body?
Enjoy these robot videos >>
AI Exposed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPx2LCs0z9Q
Dancing?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kukXFi99v3A
Sex?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYfE5_P2CW4&t=62s
Juggling?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVtdjKgB75U
4) 🔥 A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET
✨ THE MAGIC OF QUOTES ✨
Quotes are tiny magic lanterns—glimmers of wisdom that light our way. They contain big truths in small packages, offering comfort, clarity, and courage when we need it most. A single line can steady a trembling heart, clarify a foggy thought, or remind us to keep moving toward our dreams with a whisper that says, “Keep going—there’s more ahead.”
“Robotics are beginning to cross that line from absolutely primitive motion to motion that resembles animal or human behavior.” – J. J. Abrams
“No robot will ever be as smart as YOU!” – Kit Summers.
“Robotics and other combinations will make the world pretty fantastic compared with today.” – Bill Gates.
“If something robotic can have responsibilities, then it should also have rights.” – Emily Berrington.
“History is not going to look kindly on us if we just keep our heads in the sand with arms folded. Autonomous robotics is an issue because it sounds too science fiction.” – Peter Singer.
“The way that the robotics market is going to grow, at least in the home, is that we’ll have several different special-purpose robots.” – Colin Angle.
“I hope that by 2050 the entire solar system will have been explored and mapped by flotillas of tiny robotic craft.” – Martin Rees.
“In the field of robotics, the future is limited only by our imagination.” – Bob Reiner.
“Robotics is not about making machines to serve us.
It’s about creating machines that can be our partners.” – Cynthia Breazeal.
“A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.” – Isaac Asimo.v
“A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.” – Isaac Asimov.
“Robots are the pioneers of exploring places where humans cannot go.” – David Hanson.
“Robotic engineers are modern-day magicians, bringing inanimate objects to Life.” – Ayanna Howard.d
“Robotics is not just a field of science; it’s a canvas for art, innovation, and progress.” – Rodney Brooks.
“Robotics isn’t about machines; it’s about creating companions that enhance human capabilities.” – Raffaello D’Andrea.
“There are an endless number of things to discover about robotics.
A lot of it is just too fantastic for people to believe.” – Daniel H. Wilson.
“Robots are interesting because they exist as a real technology that you can really study – you can get a degree in robotics – and they also have all this pop-culture real estate that they take up in people’s minds.” – Daniel H. Wilson.
“Sometimes a technology is so awe-inspiring that the imagination runs away with it – often far, far away from reality. Robots are like that. A lot of big and ultimately unfulfilled promises were made in robotics early on, based on preliminary successes.” – Daniel H. Wilson.
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5) YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK >>
Design your robot. 🤖✨
Roam the wild internet savanna. Gather ideas. Borrow boldly. Steal like an artist.
Then—here’s the fun part—don’t copy. Twist it. Flip it. Make it yours.
Be different on purpose. Find your way, not the well-worn one.
That’s where the magic hums.
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6) NEXT WEEK–BLOG 361–Living Beyond the Age of 100.
Write me today–kitsummers@gmail.com
7) FINAL THOUGHTS 🌟
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE!
