My Unintentional Roommate: Living in Elon Musk's World

I don’t know Elon Musk. We’ve never met. We don’t move in the same circles (he moves in circles that orbit Mars; I move in circles that involve finding a parking spot at Trader Joe’s).

And yet, I feel like I’ve been inadvertently living in a guest house on his mental estate for the last decade.

Here is a brief history of my one-sided relationship with the man who wants to put a chip in my brain.

The Electric Envy (The Tesla Phase)

It started on the highway. I was driving my reliable, gas-guzzling sedan—a car that vibrated aggressively if I went over 65 mph—when a silent, spaceship-looking vehicle glided past me. No engine noise. No exhaust. Just a glowing "T" and a driver who looked smugly comfortable.

That was the moment I entered the "Tesla Envy" phase.

  • The Dream: I convinced myself I was going to buy a Model S. I built one on the website. I chose the "Ludicrous Mode" option, mostly because I liked the Spaceballs reference.

  • The Reality: I looked at my bank account and realized I could afford... a tire. Maybe a hubcap. I stuck with my vibrating sedan, but every time I pumped gas, I felt like I was betraying the future.

The Rocket Watcher (The SpaceX Phase)

Then came the rockets.

There was a specific Tuesday where I sat in my pajamas, eating a bowl of lukewarm cereal, watching two rocket boosters land simultaneously on a drone ship in the middle of the ocean. It looked like CGI. It looked like magic.

I looked at the rockets landing themselves. Then I looked at my own life, where I had just failed to toss a crumpled paper towel into the trash can from three feet away.

Elon was trying to make humanity a multi-planetary species. I was trying to motivate myself to fold laundry. The contrast was humbling.

The Blue Bird (The Twitter/X Phase)

And then, he bought the town square.

I’ve been on "The App Formerly Known as Twitter" for years. It was a chaotic place, sure, but it was our chaos. Then Elon walked in carrying a literal kitchen sink (a joke that Dad humor would reject as too on-the-nose).

Suddenly, my feed changed.

  • Before: Funny observations about cats and live-tweeting the Oscars.

  • After: Debates about free speech, verified checkmarks that cost $8, and the Algorithm deciding I really needed to see conspiracy theories about ancient architecture.

It felt like a new landlord bought your apartment building and immediately started painting the walls neon grey and removing the front door "for efficiency."

The Brain Chip (The Neuralink Phase)

Now we’re talking about Neuralink. Putting chips in brains.

Part of me is terrified. This is the start of every dystopian sci-fi movie I’ve ever seen. But the other part of me? The part that constantly forgets where I put my keys or the name of that actor who was in that one movie?

That part is thinking, "You know... maybe a searchable database in my hippocampus wouldn't be the worst thing."

Conclusion: Mars or Bust?

Elon says he wants to die on Mars, "just not on impact."

Me? I’m happy here on Earth. I like oxygen. I like the atmosphere shielding me from radiation. I like 24-hour diners. But I can’t help but watch what he does next. It’s like watching a high-budget reality show where the stakes are the actual future of humanity.

I’ll stay down here, driving my gas car and typing with my un-chipped fingers, watching the rockets go up. Good luck up there, Elon. If you need someone to test if the Martian soil is suitable for growing coffee beans, call me.

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