I've logged out of my Facebook account. I believe I am going to just sunset from it and quietly delete it and move on. This is a new world and I don't feel very social.
I do write media and this is a function I have prepared for, but there is always more to know. At the moment I am somewhat struggling to get into my work.
I'm not sure if what I am doing is what I will be doing in the near future. I don't want to say much publicly. I just want to shake off the cobwebs and get to work.
In my dreams last night I couldn't solve tasks and couldn't really understand what was going wrong all of the time. I woke up at 4 a.m. and played video games until 6 a.m. or maybe later.
There's no point to this post, but there might be one in retrospect. Perhaps I just need to restore the concept of the quota.
Or maybe there's no point to any of this, and somehow writing serves no purpose except that of absurdism. What's the point of capturing a detail about the street, still narrowed by ice? Or the woman who gets stuck on the ice despite the storm being over for over two weeks? She has to carefully move around the car to get her child to escort her to the daycare next door.
I don't know what will become of any of us in the next few years. I'm not there yet. I'm trying to imagine the worst because I expect it. The way this country communicates has now poisoned our future and I have this sense that maybe I can help a little.
Or at least that's what I've told myself, and what I've devoted myself to trying to do, getting back to journalism in the spring of 2020. So on this first day of the fourth week of 2025, I'd better document what I can. Maybe it will help.
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