• 07 Dec, 2025 *

Good morning, almost afternoon. It’s 11:42am, and I have done the impossible task of getting up and bothering to make coffee before noon on a chilly Sunday such as this one.

The entire last week here has been nothing but beyond freezing temperatures, which is nice in the Christmassy sense, not so nice when you need to do anything outside. For example, today, I’m using my coffee as an excuse not to go out for groceries for as long as possible.

I have had Instagram on my phone for about 2 weeks now, and I sincerely think this is the one that will stick. My friend showed me an app that reroutes all of your Instagram messages so that you can receive them without using the app, and it has been the godsend that I’ve waited years for. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m really missing anything as I can check posts on my computer and see messages on my phone. A perfect medium.

In true zoomer fashion, always needing something to scroll, I’ve taken to surfing Substack over solo caf dinners. The irony isn’t lost on me that I’ve essentially traded one doomscrolling application for another, but I have been enjoying scrolling for essays to read over my evening coffee much more than reels, so that has to count for something.

Yesterday, I read a piece about the decline of deviance in modern society, exploring the statistics and cultural changes that lead to our more monotonous, safe lives today. In the later part of the piece, Adam Mastroianni writes about Arturo di Modica, the sculptor who created the Charging Bull statue on Wall Street in New York City. I had absolutely no idea that he had just, well, put it there without permission, and that it only stayed because of public outcry at the attempt of its removal.

There’s something so inspiring and alluring about those who just do what they feel is right, for themselves, for the environment around them. I’m sure that block of Wall Street was a very desolate place before Modica’s intervention. The key intrigue about Modica was just how transient he was through his own life. He was born in Sicily, then ran away from home to study art in Florence. He later immigrated to the US and worked odd jobs to support himself before eventually settling in Manhattan, in an illegal basement studio that he accessed through a literal hole in the ground.

This is not to say that I’m going to throw away everything to go study art someplace far from home. I’ve already strayed 5 or so hours away from home for architecture, and as much as I love my home city, being away has let me become ten times the person I would have been had I stayed, just by virtue of independence. However, the audacity of Modica to not shy away from what he felt was best for him is something I absolutely aspire to.

Most of my plans for the next little while have involved ways to hop on a train, hop on a plane, ways to take me further away. Just to see what’s out there for me that I haven’t discovered yet. That’s all just future thinking, though. For now, my day has stayed within a couple meters from my bed, and my window looks the same as it did last weekend, snow blowing around in a steady fashion. Life is long, it’ll all happen with time.

[#internet journal](https://zoeloukia.bearblog.dev/blog/?q=internet journal)