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# Slop, Soul, and the Reason I Keep Creating
- URL: https://www.mikebakerhq.com/writing/slop-soul-and-the-reason-i-keep-creating/
- Published: 2025-06-28T03:42:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-08-12T07:29:06.000Z
- Description: John Oliver was not wrong about AI slop. The internet is flooded with work that looks clean and says nothing. Here is why I keep creating anyway.
- Author: Mike Baker
- Tags: Human First, #Import 2026-08-01 07:39

*By Mike Baker*

[When John Oliver aired his segment on “AI slop,](https://youtu.be/TWpg1RmzAbc?ref=mikebakerhq.com)” I watched it closely. He wasn’t wrong. The internet is being flooded with content that looks clean but says nothing, AI-generated music made to game the algorithm, clickbait images, auto-written blogs built for SEO instead of truth. It's fast. It's hollow. And it's everywhere. 

But the danger isn’t just that the content is low-quality, it’s that it’s **disconnected**. Created for impressions, not impact. Built for reach, not relationship. And that matters.

Because there’s another side to this story. One that doesn’t trend in headlines. One that doesn’t start with a viral moment. It starts with pain. With love. With a cracked-open soul trying to stay in the fight. That’s the story I’m here to tell.

And it starts with my daughter.

She was diagnosed with endometriosis, a disease too often dismissed, misunderstood, or ignored. Watching her suffer day after day with pain that had no clear solution broke something in me. I couldn’t take it away. I couldn’t carry it for her. And as her dad, that kind of helplessness hit harder than anything I’ve ever faced.

I didn’t know how to fix it. But I knew I couldn’t disappear.

I needed a way to stay present, even when I couldn’t control the outcome. A way to stay close, even when the path was unclear. I needed a way to turn the ache into something useful.

So I started creating.

**[@EndoDad76](https://www.instagram.com/endodad76/?ref=mikebakerhq.com)** **was the beginning.**I started with the warrior images.

AI became the tool I used to bring my vision to life—portraits of strong, radiant, powerful women that echoed what I saw in my daughter and my wife. I paired those images with short, honest reflections. Not polished essays. Just real words. Small truths. Messages to say: *I see you. I believe you. You are not alone.*

It wasn’t about building a following. It was about staying in the story.

But something unexpected happened. People started reaching out.

From Brazil. Mexico. Ireland. Germany. Australia. South Africa. Women in pain. Partners trying to support them. Daughters. Friends. Strangers who weren’t strangers anymore.

They didn’t follow because it was clever. They followed because it was **real**.

And the words kept coming.

The posts turned into lyrics. The feelings turned into melodies. I started turning those fragments into songs—songs about grief, about hope, about staying when everything in you wants to run.

That’s how *[The Light We Share](https://open.spotify.com/album/6aNlQoyFmSmUJDRSudCHSl?si=3i%5FShaNsRf6j6-WH7sKftg&ref=mikebakerhq.com)*came to life. I wanted to write something that could travel beyond language, a message that no matter who you are or where you’re from, the light inside you matters. It connects us. It heals us. And it’s meant to be shared.

So I used AI tools to help translate it into **32 languages**. Not through a label. Not as a gimmick. But with care. With time. With heart. I wanted it to reach someone in a hospital room in Madrid just as much as someone standing in the kitchen in Coeur d’Alene. I wanted it to belong to everyone.

And somehow, it did.

Since then, I’ve kept writing.

**[I’ve written songs about mental health](https://open.spotify.com/album/6AxrZzLzKgbtz5xgIsNRML?si=KFV1XAe9S0u4joVzjNGSrw&ref=mikebakerhq.com)** **.** About anxiety and depression. About quiet breakdowns. About waking up and deciding to keep going even when nothing feels steady. Songs that don’t sugarcoat the struggle—but also don’t give up on the light.

**I’ve written songs about being a dad.** Not the kind built for social media highlight reels, but the real stuff. The mess. The fear. The mornings you feel like you’re failing. The nights you hope you’re getting at least one thing right.

**I’ve written love songs for my wife.** Soft ones. Steady ones. Songs built in the ordinary, where the most sacred parts of love really live. I don’t need fireworks—I need the kind of love that keeps showing up.

And I’m learning guitar. Not because I want to perform. Because I want to feel the music in my own hands. I want to grow into the sound I’m writing. I want to stretch. Even when I fumble through chords. Even when it’s slow.

And I’ll be honest, **ADHD makes that hard.**

My brain doesn’t do structure well. I forget things. I get overwhelmed before I even begin. Focus slips through my fingers. But when I’m creating, writing, producing, drawing, **my mind lights up in the best way**.

That fog clears. The world makes sense for a while. I feel *whole.* I feel *me.*

This isn’t just about content. This is about survival. This is how I stay grounded. This is how I give shape to the things I can’t carry any other way.

And this process has taken me places I never expected.

I’ve connected with people across the world—far beyond anything I ever imagined. Listeners, artists, parents, patients, advocates. Some have shared how the music helped them through a tough season. Others have told me it gave them language for something they hadn’t been able to express. A few said it inspired them to create again after a long silence.

I didn’t expect that. I just hoped the work would mean something to someone. Hearing that it has, it’s humbling. It reminds me why I started this in the first place. Not to perform. Not to go viral. But to connect.

And somehow, it’s happening. One song, one story, one honest message at a time. 

These aren’t numbers. They’re people. And the connection is real.

**Do I think there are problems with AI? Absolutely**. There are systems that exploit artists. There’s content being pumped out with no intention, no heart, and no accountability. That deserves pushback. We need better ethics. More transparency. We need to protect creators.

**But we also need room for people like me.**

People who use AI as a tool, not to automate, but to amplify something *human*. To tell stories they couldn’t tell any other way. To stay present in the hardest parts of life and find a way to turn them into light.

Because sometimes, what looks like art is actually someone trying to survive. And what looks like a song is actually someone whispering, “You’re not alone.”

If you’ve ever listened to a song I wrote and felt understood, If one of my images made you stop scrolling and feel your own strength, If something I posted gave you a breath you didn’t know you needed—

Then you already know what I’m trying to do.

**This isn’t slop.** **This is soul.** **This is story.** **This is connection.**

And I’ll keep showing up, not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I haven’t. Because there are still stories to tell. Because there are still people waiting to feel less alone.

And if anything I’ve made helps them breathe a little easier, helps them hold on a little longer, reminds them that light is still out there, then that’s enough. That’s everything.

Still here. Still trying. — Mike

To see all of my work, check out my links below: 

https://linktr.ee/MikeBakerHQ