I know I am not alone in feeling the way I do about social media. Perhaps what we are witnessing is the gradual fading of a once-dominant fad. It had a good run, but I must tread carefully to avoid immersing myself so deeply in it that I sacrifice my own humanity—the very essence of my existence. Humans are not meant to be passive recipients of predigested information; rather, we find joy in the process of assessing, analyzing, and synthesizing knowledge. Our bodies are designed for movement and labor, not for a machine to take over all our tasks while we remain idle.

I reflected on this deeply last night as I chose to work on programming with my old, well-worn laptop instead of my high-performance, recent computer. There was an undeniable craving within me for the struggles of the past—the challenge of learning, the process of comprehension, and the satisfaction of acquiring new skills. I appreciate the advances of modern technology, but I also recognize that social media, while still enjoyable for its original purpose of sharing meaningful content like music and videos, has undergone a troubling transformation. It now encourages endless engagement, drawing people further away from the fundamental aspects of what makes them human. Thankfully, only a few of my close friends have fallen prey to this algorithm-driven addiction. In the end, much of the hype surrounding modern digital culture may not live up to its grand promises. Human nature is resilient; behavioral shifts, especially ones attempting to push people into a purely virtual existence, face significant resistance. After all, we still have basic physical and mental needs that cannot be met through mere digital escapism. Living in a simulated world may offer temporary joy, much like daydreaming or fantasizing, but reality always calls us back—we must wake up, tend to our bodies, earn a living, cherish nature, and engage with the physical presence of those we love.

I am grateful that I have not lost touch with this reality. I use social media, but only as a form of entertainment. That is the extent of its value to me. I am, without a doubt, the type of user that Big Tech least desires—I refuse to dedicate excessive amounts of time to their platforms. Instead, I engage with digital tools on my own terms, using them as reminders of places I have visited, thoughts worth pondering, or music worth listening to. In that regard, social media does have value. Yet, I always return to my own creative outlets—developing personal websites, crafting my own narratives, and exploring ideas that originate from within me. That is the reason I was drawn to computing and the internet in the first place: self-expression on a platform of my own making. And despite the changing landscape of technology, I still find immense joy in programming.

There is much talk about AI replacing human programmers, but I do not believe that day will come soon—at least not for those of us who truly love the craft. Perhaps AI will cater to those who prefer cut-and-paste programming, but there will always be individuals who take pleasure in building from scratch. It is not about making life unnecessarily difficult; rather, there is an unparalleled satisfaction in creating something from nothing, fully understanding the process behind it. AI may assist, but it cannot replace the thrill of invention and problem-solving.

I take pride in the fact that I still have the discipline to manage my free time without being lured into the abyss of media designed to drain my mental energy. I am capable of resisting the "zombie juice" that so many fall victim to. And I know I am not alone—there are others who, like me, choose to live as nature and God intended. Thankfully, there are still those who critically filter the information they consume, turning to reliable sources like textbooks, reputable websites, and even select social media pages that continue to share insightful, useful, and inspiring content.

Politics, in its modern digital form, has never interested me. Platforms like Twitter (now X) failed to capture my engagement. I dabbled in posting content on Facebook, YouTube, and TikTok, initially intrigued by the numbers of views and likes, but that fascination quickly faded. I realized I had far more fulfilling pursuits—reading, blogging, exercising, meditating, and immersing myself in computing, which was my original passion when I pursued a second career in Computer Science and IT. Looking back, I see this as a blessing; my skills have provided me with a fulfilling way to stay engaged and productive, even in my later years. The joy of discovery, the excitement of relearning, and the discipline of applying old knowledge in new ways keep me alive, present, and spiritually attuned.

I firmly believe that everything I have learned was part of God's plan for me. I still recall the exhausting days when I worked full-time and attended evening classes, struggling to grasp complex topics like data structures, algorithms, memory management, and object-oriented programming. After late-night classes, I would stay up well past midnight, applying newly learned concepts to programming assignments, determined to meet deadlines. I never gave up, despite the grueling workload.

Now, I refuse to let all that experience go to waste simply because AI can automate certain tasks. Creativity has intrinsic value—how could I claim authorship of a painting that was merely generated by a machine? True creativity is a divine gift, a manifestation of human intellect and effort. The brain is a citadel of power; the body, its instrument. Surrendering all cognitive and physical engagement to machines would be an act of self-destruction. Science and medicine have long affirmed that both the mind and body require exercise to maintain their strength and function. If I allow machines to do all my thinking and physical labor, I risk atrophy—both mental and physical.

That is precisely the future that AI, as wielded by Big Tech, is steering us toward—a world where humans are passive consumers, tethered to the very machines they once controlled. How different is that from a dystopian existence, where we become mere extensions of the systems built to serve us? If we are not careful, we may find ourselves living like zombies, our independence and creativity eroded by an overreliance on artificial intelligence.

I refuse to walk that path. Instead, I will continue to engage with technology on my own terms, preserving my agency, intellect, and creativity. After all, life is meant to be lived—not merely processed by an algorithm.

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