No Shame in Quitting What Isn’t for You - An Essay

I have spent my years teaching over 300 students by now, teaching Italian and English, preparing them for language exams, Matura exams, job interviews, everyday situations, traveling, private events, and so on. And it is such a shame that I cannot hug them, shake them, and tell them that everything is going to be okay. Because something that I’ve noticed with every single one of my students, from age 6 to 76, is that at one point or another they believe that they quit something and that people shouldn’t be “quitters,” and because of that, they think they are somehow less than. So let us examine for a moment this sense of “shame”.

I think society does not understand the difference between letting go of something and quitting. I understand that we want to push people not to quit, not to give up. Just because something is hard, you should still give it a try. I agree with that. I do believe that people might at times give up too easily. And here is where the third term comes in: Letting go, quitting, and giving up are three super-duper different things, and we keep mushing them together. Let me give you some very simple examples.

EDUCATION

I had a friend who started studying architecture, and it wasn’t for them. They left that university program, started a new bachelor course, finished that, got an MA, and even completed an extra course. But still, to this day, they bring up architecture as if it were a failure on their part that they never finished studying it. I understand that we come from different backgrounds. There might be pressure from parents, there might be expectations within a family, all kinds of things can come into play. But at the same time, I can never understand listening to this person describe their feelings about “failing” one university program when afterward they got at least three other degrees. It hurts my brain to think that this person thinks less of themselves for not finishing something. And I’ll tell you why I think this is an especially stupid example.

Having taught so many 18-year-olds who are about to finish high school/secondary school and head into higher education, I can tell you that they have absolutely no fucking clue what higher education looks like. I can also tell you that perhaps they don’t even know how to study properly because in Hungary, unfortunately, we have focused too much on preparing students for tests and exam situations as opposed to actually teaching them how to sit down and study. They try to shove as much information as they can into their short-term memory instead of their long-term memory. Some of them are lucky, of course. There are always exceptions to everything we talk about. They might have met the greatest teacher of their life, and that teacher may have helped them place some information into the right category, into the long-term boxes.

People decide to study things based on the experiences they had in high school, and many people decide to study something completely different because they hated everything they studied in high school. There can be variations. There are spectrums. There are endless possibilities. However, I can tell you from every single discussion I’ve had with my students that they just have no clue what to expect from university, and there is so much pressure put on people to immediately find the right thing.

Coming back to my friend who studied architecture, how were they supposed to know if it was going to be a good fit? They might have been told, well, you have a bit of math here, a bit of statistics there, a bit of physics there, but at the end of the day they didn’t know what kind of teachers they were going to meet, what the schedule was going to look like, what it’s like to have a full semester, what it’s like to have an exam period, what seminars are like, what lectures are like. It’s a completely different world.

And then we expect students, especially European students, because at least in America there is a long history of people leaving home and going to other states to study at university, community college, and all kinds of places. There is an expectation that you are supposed to leave the nest, and you do. But not in Hungary. A lot of people study from home. Many of them try to come to the big city unless they are already from Budapest. Otherwise, we also have big university towns that are very typical of Hungary. And when certain English-speaking universities left the country, we also lost some of the influx of international students, which is a very important thing for students who are trying to experience the world through higher education, to have classmates from different backgrounds, different skin colors, different cultures, different religions.

And you have no idea what that’s like when you’re living in the small bubble that is high school. So here you are, starting higher education. You have absolutely no idea what to expect. And in the EU, you can do that in several languages. You can even do it in another country. You must choose the right major immediately, even without knowing what higher education is actually like... why do we put them under even more pressure?

I always tell my students, just get in. Who the fuck cares if you don’t finish your first bachelor’s degree? Just get in, understand how university works, and then do what works for you. And if we could, for five minutes as a society, stop thinking of these students as failures for leaving something that does not work for them, that would be fantastic.

JOBS

But let’s not just talk about schooling because obviously there is a lot of pressure there. Let’s also talk about jobs. I have had so many students who clearly handled quitting as if it were some kind of personal failure. In most cases, the reasons were very simple. Let’s list a couple.

First of all, they might simply not like what they are doing. It’s too monotonous. It’s too much of the same thing every single day in a workplace where they were promised change, improvement, and a different perspective on life. And at the end of the day, they are still doing the same thing. They are not improving, and it bothers them.

I think a lot of people would love a job where they are completely left alone. They do their nine-to-five and then go home. But others want to improve. They want to do more. They want to see the fruits of their labor. And I find it incredibly important that people also think it’s fun and fulfilling to go to work.

Second, social relationships. So many people I’ve talked to have tried to come to terms with a stupid manager, a difficult coworker, or a higher-up who has no empathy and does not understand how the world works. Somebody who thinks your time matters less. Somebody who wants you to keep pushing forever.

I remember one specific time talking to my cousin, who was working with an insufferable woman. Now, I don’t want to make this about gender here. I have met plenty of narcissistic men who pretend to be grown-ups when emotionally they are still 16-year-old boys whose feelings got hurt and who still need the world to tell them they’re doing a good job. I have met fantastic men that I work with, and I have met horrible women. I have met horrible men and fantastic women as well. This is not about gender. This is about personality.

And I need everyone to understand the difference here because somebody that I might find narcissistic could be a perfectly good coworker for someone else. They found a way to work together. They understand each other’s tone. They find each other agreeable. They might never encounter the same issues that I would with someone who has narcissistic tendencies. In the same way, somebody might have a fantastic time working with the woman that my cousin finds insufferable.

This is perfectly normal. There is no universal agreement that somebody is “bad” and somebody else is “good.” We all have completely different personalities. There is a huge array of personalities that we encounter in life, and we are not going to mesh with all of them.

Coming back to the over 300 students I told you about, about 10% of them and I did not mesh. I’m very lucky that it’s only 10%, but I also think that’s a normal amount. Overall, people are agreeable, understanding, and open to others. 

I am not saying that this insufferable woman was going to be a bad boss for everyone, but I vividly remember my cousin feeling like they had failed because they couldn’t work well with this woman. And it’s so incredibly stupid. Who cares? Why do you have to, after everything you tried, still feel bad about not finding the right tone with someone? If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out, and that’s okay.

We always put ourselves into these difficult situations because we constantly weigh our options. On the one hand, I love my job, but I hate this person. On the other hand, if this changes, then maybe that changes too. There are incredible amounts of things to take into consideration, obviously. But I always say that if the bad outweighs the good, then it’s time to move on.

And I am just so sorry that when people come to this conclusion, they think of it as quitting. I really don’t think it is. I think that is letting go. That is the moment where you realize, okay, I have done everything I could. I’m going to let this one go. It’s not my responsibility to fix something that feels unfixable. And too many people are sitting in the same shit, completely unable to move on to the next thing.

RELATIONSHIPS

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a big essay about a TV show where I talked about relationships and how people have a hard time quitting them as well, as in saying no to something that doesn’t work for them. We can put this into the work category too, but when it comes to friendships and relationships, people are always too slow to actually reach the moment where they should let go.

And again, I think it comes from the stigmatization of believing that if you stand up for yourself, if you say what you want, then you are selfish, egocentric, egomaniacal. You shouldn’t think about yourself. You should put everyone else’s needs before your own, and so on and so forth.

I understand that it can be incredibly difficult to think positively about yourself when the whole world tells you that every time you put yourself first, you are being egocentric. It’s so stupid. I can tell you that this is not the case.

There is a huge difference between somebody being harmful to society because they cannot see beyond themselves — and yes, I have seen such people in my life — and somebody saying that if they are emotionally dying in a situation, if the spark disappears from their eyes, if they are tired all the time, numb all the time, uncared for even by themselves, then maybe they shouldn’t stay in that position just because society tells them that otherwise they are “quitters.”

Who the fuck cares?

And I had to be over 35 to realize that it does not matter what other people think. Of course we are all creatures of habit. We all want validation from others. That’s why I can understand a narcissistic boss who needs their head patted every single week and needs to be told they’re doing a good job. I understand where it comes from. We all have these internal monologues and voices, and we are all susceptible to society telling us whether we are doing a good job or not.

But I’m here to tell you that you really need to turn that off.

Turn it off.

Saying, “No, this isn’t for me,” is not egocentric. Saying, “No, I am no longer happy in this situation,” is not selfish. I understand that some people’s feelings might get hurt or that some people might be inconvenienced. And honestly, most of the time, it’s just inconvenience that we are trying to avoid causing others. But inconvenience is fixable. Inconvenience does not last a lifetime. Inconvenience is exactly what it sounds like: inconvenient.

But you should not let yourself die inside, become numb, or push yourself into a depressive state because of a degree you didn’t finish, a relationship that doesn’t work, or a work environment that isn’t suited for you.

This is something that I could go on and on about. I just feel that people do not take the time to have proper conversations with others. When someone decides to quit something, let it go, or move on from it, ask them why. Instead of immediately feeling the need to judge them for that decision, sit down and ask, “Hey, why are you doing that? What’s happening? Why do you feel the need to change jobs? Why do you feel the need to quit university? Why do you feel the need to break up with someone?” There are so many discussions that could be incredibly easy to have and incredibly useful in understanding why another person has decided that something is no longer for them. But nobody seems willing to have those conversations.

I don’t know why, as a society, we are so fucking scared of conversation. I just don’t understand it. Everybody talks about how wonderful it is to sit down with a glass of wine and have a discussion with a friend. But then, when it comes to honestly telling someone why they feel the need to move on from a situation, why they feel that a relationship is no longer serving them — any type of relationship — suddenly nobody wants to stand up and say, “Hey, this isn’t for me.” I do not understand it, and I probably never will. And that is one of the reasons I am writing this entry as well.

Especially because — and this is something I learned in therapy while searching for answers — life puts red flags and stop signs in front of you when something is not right for you. You can easily tell yourself, “Oh no, I just have to overcome this.” That is such an easy thing to do, and it’s also an enormous amount of pressure to put yourself on just to keep going. But once you’ve spent years trying to work through those stop signs, trying to ignore those red flags, and they just keep coming, then why can’t you stop and think, “Huh, maybe I’m on the wrong road. Maybe I’m the one driving in the wrong direction. Maybe I took the wrong path.”

But no. The moment you stop, you are immediately labeled a quitter. And it is so incredibly harmful to people who are trying to express how unhappy they are in a situation for society to instantly label them as weak or incapable of handling challenges. 

We do this in relationships. 

We do this at work. 

We do this in families.

What if I recognize that a family member is fucking toxic? Why am I the one who has to forgive and forget? Why can’t I just let go? I am so tired of people being called selfish for standing up for themselves. And it is the same everywhere in the world.

QUITTING VS TRYING

To give you another example, I had a friend who started several schools after high school. They wanted to become a doctor, but it didn’t work out. They tried another field in medicine, and that didn’t work out either. Then they restarted with math and physics, took private lessons, and so on. They changed jobs in between and had periods of unemployment.

And I can tell that they look back on this period with shame. They look at their CV and think it is shameful to admit that they started school and didn’t finish them because society would label them a quitter. And it hurts my brain so much because why can’t we instead be proud of this person for continuing to try? He keeps fucking trying new things. He keeps applying to new schools. He keeps taking private lessons. He keeps trying to find the thing that will work for him. He’s not sitting there saying, “Oh well, it didn’t work out,” and then never trying again.

They keep fucking trying all the fucking time.

And instead, we judge them. We look at their CV and ask, “Why did you quit this? Why did you quit that?” And I understand that, as an employer, you want somebody reliable. But this is exactly where conversation comes in. This is why interviews exist. “Why did you leave those places?”

Because it didn’t feel right. Because it wasn’t for me. Because after experiencing higher education firsthand, I realized that this subject, this system, this path simply wasn’t right for me.

That is a perfectly normal thing.

And that is why we have job interviews. So instead of feeling ashamed of a CV that does not contain all the “right” things in the “right” places, why don’t we talk about the fact that the world is enormous and full of possibilities, and maybe we should congratulate the people who keep trying because trying is the hardest thing to do?

After so many failures and so many people telling you that you are bad, that you are a quitter, that you are supposed to hold one job for the rest of your life, why don’t we reward the people who realize something isn’t for them and still continue trying instead of giving up altogether? Because honestly, society itself is often horribly constructed, but that’s a discussion for another day.

LEAVING MY PHD

So, about eight years ago, I started my PhD studies, and at the time I told my dad, “I’m going to start and see what it’s like.” And he had a hard time understanding that, asking me “Why start if you’re not going to finish?” And it really struck me how he was driven by the notion that if you start something, you have to finish it.

But his generation is very different, and that’s why I think it’s unfair to expect a high school student to immediately know the right path for themselves. It’s no longer just a choice between becoming a doctor, a shepherd, or a lawyer. There are endless possibilities. And universities also push students into highly specialized branches and minors that might not even exist later as master’s programs. So here we are, blindly expecting people to create five-to-seven-year plans and follow them no matter what.

So I looked at my dad, and to his question as to why start start in the first place replied, “Because I have no clue what a doctorate program is actually like.”

I knew what higher education was like. I knew what it was like to get a BA and an MA. I knew what exams were like, and I was good at them. I was comfortable in those social situations.

But I did not know what a PhD was actually like.

And honestly, even today I’m not sure I fully know because halfway through my PhD came COVID, which completely changed deadlines, exam formats, and some of the requirements of the program. I don’t know what my experience would be like if I started over today.

And we had this long conversation about how I needed to try it in order to know whether it fit me. By the end of the conversation, he completely understood what I was saying. I remember him telling me, “Oh, I can see you really thought this through.” And it was such a rewarding feeling. I think it was the first time I felt that my father saw an adult in me instead of a child just taking out toys from the cupboard, throwing them around and never actually putting them away.

And there I was, seven years later, deciding to stop.

I completed all the courses, all the publications, all the conferences, all the teaching, all the requirements in my PhD program at a Hungarian university. But I kept feeling socially inadequate. I kept feeling unhappy with the structure of the exams, the final defense, and the entire system.

I hated it.

And I was angry at it because I felt that it did not reflect the actual knowledge I had gained during those seven years. It did not reflect my research. I felt that nobody on my defense committee would genuinely give a single fuck about all the work I had put into it, and I simply did not want to force myself through that process.

And bear in mind reader, this is not the opponent or chair's fault, academics are famously overworked with administrative tasks that have nothing to do with furthering education, and have much more to do with legal liabilities. I do not blame my teachers for not getting super invested in my research, that was my job, but the system was not going to change for me. 

I was very proud of the work I did. I had a colleague read what I wrote, and we had a two-hour conversation about it where they pointed out all the flaws but also talked about the positive things I had included. I was able to share my research and my passion for it.

And after that conversation, I realized that I had already gotten what I wanted out of the experience.

I did not need to go through the bureaucratic nightmare of finding university professors to sit on a committee when many of them did not want to be there, did not care about my topic, and did not really care about my work. At best, even if they had read it, they probably would not have given me feedback that would meaningfully improve my writing.

Because that’s the thing — it can always be better.

That is exactly what I hate about the defense process. It’s always, “This is good, but…” And I understand that. My writing will never be perfect. Nothing ever is. But I never felt that these defense committees were genuinely interested in discussing the merit of my research.

And I find that especially painful because the entire application process for a PhD is built around explaining why your research matters, why it deserves funding, what value it adds to academia or society. But once you reach the defense stage, all of that disappears.

Nobody cares.

For seven years, I could not let go of the resentment I felt toward the defense process. So there I was. I did everything I could. I was a good student and I completed every requirement.

And I’m happy that I had the experience.

And I’m not even saying that I will never finish it.

But I will never look at myself as a quitter for eventually coming to the conclusion that if something pushes me toward “no” for seven straight years, then maybe I was right to say no.

I can also tell you, that because there were some really rewarding parts of the PhD process I was many times blind to the red flags and the stop signs. 

And I need to add, that I was scared. Scared of the unknown. Quitting something you have done for years -- something that has become part of your personality --,  is incredibly hard. I could not imagine myself not teaching in higher education... until I did. Circumstance brought me to try myself out and despite everything I found a new path. 

So, at the end of the this entry all I can do is paraphrase the many insightful quotes that keep popping up on my feeds, emphasizing that being stuck in something that isn't for you is actually harmful in the long run. So, I do believe that there is no shame in quitting something that isn't for you.

Streaming Is Not Ruining Cinema, Directors Are - An Essay

This is something I’ve been wanting to write for a long time. A few years back, in 2021, I actually spent an entire year watching movies—365 of them. Of course, some were films I had already seen. I rewatched favorites around Christmas or my birthday, and others were movies I had only partially seen as a kid in the ’90s—films that I couldn’t remember and I thought, “What the heck was that actually about?” So I went back, rewatched them properly and made up for a lot of things I missed out on.

There were also films I remembered only from posters my sister had in her room. I remembered the casting vividly but had no idea what they were about. And then there were sequels—so many films had sequels I never saw or even knew existed. I was curious. 

As I got into it, I started watching more and more films, including classics. I watched Citizen Kane (1941) for the first time and understood why it’s considered a masterpiece. It’s a brilliant film that honestly still holds up today. But there were others where I definitely hit the speed button—like Gone with the Wind (1939). At one point, I slowed it back down just to hear how the characters spoke, and it sounded exactly the same as when it was sped up. It was ridiculous, and I still laugh thinking about it. Yes, it has iconic scenes, but it’s also a four-hour film…

Side note: when I told my mom I had watched it, she said, “The book is better.” And I just thought, “Oh, mother, there are entire communities on the internet that would cherish you.” That memory always makes me laugh.

After watching 365 films, I realized something: every three-hour movie could be two hours, and every two-hour movie could be 90 minutes. It’s ridiculous how long movies have become.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I love movies. I think storytelling in film is exceptional. I love focused, intimate stories, and I also love chaotic, multi-thread narratives. I enjoy Christmas films, sci-fi, action—everything. And honestly, I feel like action movies are being overlooked. Films like Ballerina (2025) and The Running Man (2025) were phenomenal. I had such a great time with them. Sometimes the films I expect the least from end up surprising me the most. Twisters (2024), the sequel to Twister (1996), was incredible. I even brought friends to see it in the cinema multiple times. It’s refreshing to watch films that aren’t trying to reinvent the wheel—they just tell a story, look good, and deliver action. That’s enough. I don’t need constant reinvention. I’m tired of people trying to redefine genres instead of simply making enjoyable films.

I once attended a talk by an old cinema projectionist. He told incredible stories about working with film reels—rewinding them, transporting them between cinemas, even running them through hallways to screen multiple films at once. It was fascinating. He also explained that movies became popular partly because they became shorter—around 90 minutes—allowing cinemas to show them multiple times a day, as they managed to rewind the reels much much faster. That efficiency helped grow the audience.

So what happened exactly, besides difficulties caused by covid, that lead to a somewhat decrease in the success of cinema? Well, people blame streaming, but I don’t think that’s the real issue.

From watching so many films, I’ve noticed that length is a major problem. Anything over three hours immediately feels excessive and I find myself actually breaking it up into multiple parts. Streaming came in, and people stopped going to theaters as much, at least they claim, although publishers put movies on streaming way too fast. And not only that, studios keep trying to squeeze life out of dead franchises instead of creating new ones.

Right now, there’s a lack of major cultural franchises. There’s no Hunger Games-level phenomenon capturing younger audiences (even with its spin-offs). Attempts like Divergent failed, it was just too soon and too similar. Remaking Harry Potter won’t fix anything. They already mishandled Fantastic Beasts. Money, money, money, money, money... It’s time to move on. I think perhaps the Fifty Shade films were the last successful attempt, and now Dune is really taking over, finally we have a franchise to look forward to, but needless to say, those are HUGE movies as well, over two hour run times and are massive undertakings of cinematic abilities, with VFX and CGI walking onto newer paths everyday. So I'm not saying that there is nothing good out there, because I also hate people who claim that "They don't make movies like they used to anymore", cause bitch... if you have not seen a single movie from the 80s, 70s, or the 60s, in your attempt to go back to the good old days, then you are just complaining to complain, and you have not had a single smart thought in years. 

The industry is going ahead and there are a lot of good things out there, yet cinema is... struggling. 

The number one problem that I identified is that marketing is terrible: I follow multiple trailer channels and still miss releases entirely. Then studios wonder why people don’t show up... Meanwhile, platforms like Netflix I think excel at marketing. They create interviews, extra content, and even original YouTube shows that interact with the shows and films made for their service. That’s smart promotion. HBO and Paramount can hate on Netflix all they want, but they are doing some very smart things. All these platforms are creating a lot of shows that they don't even keep on their platforms anymore because of mistakes in copyright, it's truly ridiculous. I am not saying that streaming services are without fault, but I would also not blame them blindly.

Then comes the big question: how do you bring people back to theaters?

Apparently—popcorn buckets. I have seen a lot of silly ones, I got a cool Godzilla one myself, and the Mission: Impossible one was insane, it was super expensive as well, but people love to collect these and despite the prices they are being sold with huge success. (Read about here.)

And honestly, I’m not surprised. But the real issue is film length.

Studios give massive creative freedom to directors like Tarantino, Scorsese, and James Cameron, and they produce films that feel endless. I’m not paying a fortune to sit through a four-hour movie while trying not to drink water.

And yes, the prices of tickets is also a factor of the problem that cannot be ignored, because I personally might feel better about missing a bit of the film to run to the toilet, but for the price I'm paying right now, I would rather not miss anything.

Give me a two-hour theatrical version and release the extended cut on streaming. It worked for The Lord of the Rings, we had solutions before, and I want to emphasize that example because DVDs are not around anymore. So if we are going to revolutionize DVDs then it is time to provide a space for director cuts and extended cuts as well, and that is not necessarily on the big screen. Add director commentaries and behind the scenes to streaming platforms as well! Even if I personally did not like the Justice League (2017) movie, I still have to admit that as a good example, that the Snyder cut was better having only been released on streaming, it really benefited from this approach.

Let audiences enjoy long versions at home, where they can pause.

This issue is even being mocked in shows like The Studio, where the producers are too afraid to challenge big directors. That’s the problem—no one edits them anymore. There was an episode with Ron Howard making a film, everybody loving it, but then at the very end his film had an almost one hour of extra materials, plot wise insignificant, of people just pensively looking into the wilderness, and that's it. And the whole joke was that nobody had the courage to tell Ron Howard that he shouldn't do this, because... he is f*cking Ron Howard. This one episode already zoomed in on the issue that the essay focuses on, that some big names have been given an immense amount of artistic liberty in order to "save cinema" and it isn't working.

Take Avatar—visually stunning, yes, but narratively repetitive. And then I understand the behind-the-scenes work of people who deal with CGI and VFX—these artists demonstrate fantastic craftsmanship when it comes to how films are created digitally. I understand the need for movies like Avatar, but then give that responsibility to someone who actually wants to write a compelling story. Maybe—just maybe—it would be nice if we actually had a plot in the movie. That’s something audiences still need every now and then, because otherwise all these graphics, CGI, and VFX elements could just as well exist as side projects or be used in short films. You could even create competitions, with people participating in the same types of challenges—I’ve seen things like this on YouTube. People there are incredibly talented and creative, yet developers refuse to invest in new creative voices. Instead, they keep putting money behind the same big directors, and those big names are old—very old.

They have these huge scripts in front of them—projects they wrote ages ago, knowing they would never get made because people kept telling them, “It has to be a hundred pages or shorter. We can’t make this.” And now it’s finally their time. But the material isn’t polished. It’s not the greatest thing they’ve ever written. It’s not nothing—it’s a good film, because these are talented directors with strong ideas. But at the same time, it’s just not good enough. It simply isn’t good. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019) by Tarantino: I loved the concept of this alternate history with a tragedy being prevented, but... did we really need extended scenes like watching Brad Pitt drive home for minutes on end? What does that tell me? What did we learn from this? 

These films often feel indulgent rather than necessary.

Blaming streaming ignores reality. Look at Zootopia 2 (2025)—a shorter, accessible film that performed incredibly well last year, truly beating any and all expectations. People still go to the cinema when the experience is enjoyable, and they bring the whole family!!! Prices are insane now and not only whole families got tickets for a cartoon, I'm sure they also bought the popcorn buckets and the oversized coke to go with it. 

I recently watched Project Hail Mary (2026)—a great film, but it could have ended 30 minutes earlier. When audiences are thinking, “This could have ended sooner,” that’s not a good sign. (Visually stunning, so make sure you see it! I'm sure it is a very good adaptation, but not every book translates as well when adapted.)

Even classics like The Godfather Part III could have been shorter, because the first two had a lot of story that justified it's length. Nonetheless, my local cinema did screen the first film again, but even if I love it... I couldn't bring myself to watch it, for that price? Knowing I will have to go to the bathroom anyway? No.

And I went to the movies 17 times last year, that is how much I love movies. I went to old screenings, I saw things twice, I saw them in original and sometimes dubbed. I f*cking love films. I want to go more. but the length of Dune and Doomsday is not getting me excited at all.

So, I am a sucker for the movie theater. I went and took my mom to see My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3 (2023), and we had a blast. I went to see The Running Man—highly recommend it. Twisters and Ballerina from the last couple of years were fantastic. I love Mission: Impossible (2025), and that’s exactly the kind of film you have to see in theaters. Honestly, I didn’t feel it was too long—I loved it, just before you assume that I have some issue with a film that is over two hours, not at all. My issue is when that length adds nothing to the plot. A lot of people didn’t react well to Episode 8, but I don’t care. It was right up my alley, and I really loved the casting, the choices, the story, and how it was made. And Tom Cruise is going to Tom Cruise his way through a movie, no matter what. Think of the immense success that Barbie (2023) was because there was a proper marking behind the film. 

Truly too many big names are given liberties.  I have written my dissertation on old films by Scorsese, but the new ones I just refuse to see. I don’t need to watch them in theaters because I already know—from a mile away—what they’re going to be about, and I know they’ll be much longer than they need to be. So is giving this kind of artistic freedom to directors really the answer to saving Hollywood? Is it popcorn buckets? Or is it perhaps actual marketing—real marketing where you see normal trailers that don't spoil an entire film? Wouldn’t that be a faster and more effective way to reach audiences?

I don’t know—you tell me. Tell me what’s wrong. But I was not surprised by the success of Zootopia 2, and I am fairly certain that nobody truly enjoys a film if their bladder is about to explode.

But I’m far less interested in new films from Scorsese or Tarantino if they continue this trend of excessive length. And I am scared that more directors will follow this trend, simply because nobody will say not to Christopher Nolan film, or another Marvel super movie for that matter, no matter the cost or the final minute count.

So what’s the solution?

Better marketing. Smarter editing. Respect for audience time.

Make shorter theatrical cuts. Release extended versions on streaming. Create new franchises instead of recycling old ones.

Because people still love movies. Streaming hasn’t killed cinema—it’s just exposing what doesn’t work anymore. 

And honestly, no film is worth bursting you bladder for!

The Painful Truth of “Nobody Wants This” (2024) – Essay on Modern Relationships

(This post contains spoilers for season one and two.)

I have watched over 20,000 episodes of TV shows—countless hours in various languages, from French to Italian to English. I’ve watched the typical American hits, BBC shows, all kinds of TV series: sitcoms, dramas, anything and everything. I love it. I love fantasy, I love sci-fi, and I just love the narrative style of TV shows.

So when I saw the advertisement for the show Nobody Wants This (2024) starring Kristen Bell and Adam Brody, I immediately thought: yes, please—I’m invested.

The trailer is tricky because it hides the fact that this isn’t a conventional sitcom. The first season pulled me in. After being angry at the show during the second season, however, I think I finally realized what the show is really about. And I think most people have it wrong. In fact, the show might actually be much smarter than people give it credit for. What I want to explain in this essay is the message I believe the show is trying to convey. I haven’t really found many discussions about this online, so I thought I would write about it myself. I don’t know how many people this will reach, but I needed to get it out of my system. So here we go.

Right off the bat, the casting is incredible. I love everyone in this show. I also appreciate the nuance in the way the series explores a larger group in the United States that is often underrepresented unless there is some kind of deeper message attached to it. Faith is incredibly important to most people in the United States. I have taught American culture, and I have taught the ways in which history has shaped the world overall. Time and time again, religion remains a persistent force in defining how people behave and what they believe.

And here we are with an important character, the protagonist of the show, for whom faith is the number one priority. When you really think about it—and I have given lectures on this—in the United States you are very unlikely to be elected president unless you have some kind of religious affiliation. This is important. This is a huge topic. But a lot of people are thrown off by it.

For example, if a character in a TV show wears a cross around their neck, that’s generally considered normal. If they say they’re going to mass, that’s fine too. They don’t have to specify which church, where it is, or what state they’re in. But if someone says they’re Italian American, that already carries certain cultural connotations. If they say they’re Irish American, that also carries connotations. If someone is Latin American—of Spanish or Portuguese descent, whether they come from Colombia, Peru, or Mexico—it doesn’t matter. There is often an underlying religious background associated with that identity. In the United States, which has a very large population of people of Jewish descent, I honestly feel that we don’t see many discussions like the one this show attempts to have about faith.

For some people, faith is incredibly important. For a rabbi—like our main character Noah—it is absolutely central.

And questions of faith deserve to be debated in a much more thoughtful and serious way, because the United States still maintains a level of religious freedom that is quite unusual compared to many other parts of the world. Yes, you can see attacks on religion. Yes, you can see people using their faith to attack others as well. That’s a much bigger issue, and it’s not something we really have time to dive into here. It also isn’t particularly relevant to the TV show itself. What is important, however, is recognizing how deeply someone’s personality can be rooted in their faith. If they feel they cannot share that part of themselves—or if their partner doesn’t reciprocate the same level of interest or respect for it—that will inevitably lead to major problems in a relationship.

Then we have Joanne, the other protagonist, who has had her fair share of bad relationships, meeting a genuinely nice guy becomes incredibly important to her—someone she can truly connect with, someone she can vibe with, someone she can develop real feelings for. And you start to feel for these two people. They have very romantic scenes. They have the typical sitcom moments of “No, I choose you,” “No, you’re the most important thing,” “No, you are.” They exchange these beautiful declarations of love and commitment—about trying no matter what, trying even when it’s difficult to overcome certain obstacles, trying your best even when everything inside you—and everyone around you—is telling you that maybe you aren’t meant to be with this person.

And I’ll be honest: the first season felt very reminiscent of your typical romantic sitcom about people overcoming obstacles for love. But what happens after that?

What happens when love is not enough?

What happens when someone encounters problems that allude to the idea that people really don’t want this—exactly what the title suggests? Nobody wants to see their loved ones stuck in a relationship that may be filled with love, but where two people simply are not meant to be together. What happens then?

I was honestly very angry at this show because I was expecting a typical sitcom. I wanted romance. I wanted these two main characters to have incredible chemistry on screen. I wanted them to be so deeply in love that they restored my faith in humanity. But that’s not what I got. And I kept getting angrier and angrier.

Then I sat down with a friend and said, “Let’s talk about this show. What do you think about it?”

And for the first time, I realized something. I think the point of this show is not to portray a romantic sitcom fantasy. I think the point is to showcase a typical relationship in the 21st century. This show portrays something far more realistic: the countless people stuck in relationships that look perfectly fine on paper but are filled with underlying problems.

And I have seen so many friends go through exactly this situation so let’s break it down.

At first, Noah tells us that he is happy to have Joanne exactly as she is. He says he will refuse the job of becoming a rabbi. He will leave everything behind as long as they can be together. And this gesture is very sweet, but it is something that seems to just push of a larger problem. The second season arrives, and suddenly all the signs begin pointing to the same uncomfortable truth: these two people are not actually good for each other.

They love each other, which is wonderful. I honestly wish we lived in a world where love alone was enough. But it isn’t. And the reason this bothers me so much is because I keep seeing the same thing happen in real life.

I have watched friends go through the exact same situation. In fact, I have one friend in particular with whom I have had this exact conversation many times. Every time we sit down to talk about their relationship, I find myself making arguments for why they should probably separate. And every time, they push back.

They tell me their relationship is perfect. They tell me this is exactly where they should be. This is what they need. But then the next time we talk, when I suggest that maybe there is someone else who would be a better match for them, they suddenly say something completely different.

“Maybe that’s not who I’m supposed to be with.”

“Maybe I should try something else.”

“Maybe I should do this instead.”

And I find myself sitting there thinking: have you noticed that every time we talk about this, you say the exact opposite of what you said before? They usually laugh and say, “That must be annoying, isn’t it?”

But it’s not really about annoyance. I just wish they would figure out what they actually want. Because at the end of the day, what so many people are deeply afraid of is being single.

And I don’t understand why being alone—even for a short time—is so terrifying to people.

If you cannot sit alone with your own thoughts for five minutes, I honestly don’t think you should be in a relationship. And you probably shouldn’t have kids either. This is obviously a much bigger discussion, but honestly—don’t have kids if you cannot sit alone with your thoughts for five minutes. Because you know what involves a lot of quiet moments, patience, and reflection? Raising children.

And that’s when all the issues you never dealt with suddenly come back to confront you. When you’re holding a child in front of you and realizing that all the emotional baggage you avoided dealing with should probably have been addressed in therapy years ago. That’s a very rude awakening. Go see a therapist. Learn to live alone. Move out of your parents’ house—not with a girlfriend or a boyfriend, but by yourself. Spend some time alone. Figure out who you are.

Figure out how you like your eggs!

This might sound like a strange reference, but there’s a great example of this in the movie Runaway Bride (1999) with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere. If you don’t know how you like your eggs because you keep eating them the way your current partner prefers them, then you probably have bigger issues to deal with before entering another relationship. But people are afraid of being alone. And do you know what they do instead? They don’t leave a relationship until they are absolutely certain they can enter another one. They prepare the next relationship before leaving the current one. Technically, they can still say, “Well, I’m still here. I haven’t left. I haven’t cheated.” But emotionally, they’re already halfway out the door. And that’s one of the cruelest things you can do to someone. Because you’re not giving the other person the chance to understand what’s happening.

You’re not giving them the chance to process the relationship ending.

You’re avoiding confrontation. You’re avoiding the difficult conversation. Instead of having a mature discussion and acknowledging that the relationship has run its course, you quietly step away while the other person is still emotionally invested.

In sitcoms, relationships often end in very beautiful ways. Even when they are painful, there is usually some sense of closure. Real life rarely gives you that. So sometimes you have to create that closure yourself.

Have the difficult conversation.

Sit down with someone and say goodbye.

Tell them that the relationship mattered.

Thank them for the time you shared together.

Allow them the dignity of understanding that a chapter of their life has ended. That healing process might take two weeks. It might take three years. But at least they will know what happened. And that’s why watching this show became so frustrating for me.

Because here we have two characters whom the entire world is telling, “Maybe you shouldn’t be together.” Yet the show frames their constant struggle as something romantic. We are supposed to admire the fact that they keep fighting for the relationship. We are supposed to find it beautiful that they refuse to give up.

But honestly? I think they’re being idiots. I genuinely think they should break up.

And if they still miss each other after breaking up, then maybe they should consider coming back together. Instead, the second season ends with them being together again—even though none of the fundamental issues between them have actually been resolved. Joanne might convert to Judaism.

But honestly, who cares at this point?

Because it feels less like a genuine spiritual journey and more like a desperate attempt to avoid losing the relationship. And Noah keeps claiming that faith isn’t the most important thing to him. But the entire second season demonstrates that it absolutely is.

They fight about Valentine’s Day. They fight about gifts. There are toxic dynamics involving their exes. And most importantly, they don’t actually grow together. That’s my biggest problem with the show.

Does that make it a bad show?

No.

In fact, I’ll be completely honest: I hated the second season when I first watched it because it felt repetitive. But when I stepped back and compared it to the relationships I see around me—friends who probably shouldn’t be married, friends who probably shouldn’t be having children, friends who maybe shouldn’t even be dating right now—I started seeing the parallels everywhere.

And that made me reconsider what the show might actually be trying to do. Maybe the point of the show isn’t to present a romantic fantasy. Maybe the point is to show what relationships actually look like in the 21st century. Because a lot of relationships look exactly like this.

There are small positive moments:

“He got me a nice gift.”

“He supports my career.”

“He talks openly about his feelings.”

“My partner’s family accepts me.”

All of those things matter. They add weight to the positive side of the scale. But at the end of the day, the real question remains: is it enough? Is it enough that other people approve of your relationship? If the relationship itself doesn’t make you happy, does the approval of friends and family really matter? And what about the constant hope that the other person will eventually change? Is that really a healthy foundation for a relationship? Waiting for someone to suddenly fall in love with your hobbies, your values, your needs? I don’t think it is.

People can change.

Relationships can evolve.

But if you’re only one year into a relationship and both partners are already asking the other to become someone completely different, that’s probably a sign that something isn’t working. And that’s the uncomfortable truth this show seems to explore.

Sometimes people stay together not because the relationship is healthy, but because the alternative—being alone and starting over—feels too frightening. If that’s the message the show is trying to convey, then it has absolutely succeeded.

Because watching it is genuinely painful. Not because it’s badly written. But because it feels too real.

And maybe that’s exactly the point.

What's Next On My List? Pawn Shop Chronicles

 As per tradition, every year I try to look at one of Paul Walker's films, missing him dearly still, and I am slowly but surely running out of films from his filmography that I had never seen. There are some works from his early years where he barely had any big scenes. There are some where he's quite young, he started out as a young actor, but thankfully I still have a couple to go. 

Pawn Shop Chronicles (2013)

One of these was Pawn Shop Chronicles, and I just did not know what to expect with this film, but to my biggest delight, it wasn't about driving cars, it wasn't about being an undercover cop, and surprisingly, despite how incredibly insane this whole idea is and the whole story is, it was just one of the best performances I had ever seen from Paul Walker. He was playing with his voice, he was playing with his body, his interactions with the other cast members was lifted, he had perfect chemistry, some of the weirdest dialogue options, some of the weirdest scenes, it was just such a good time and a good ride.

So, what made this movie interesting is that it was divided into three separate chapters, connected by Vincent D'Onofrio and Chi McBride's character. People who came in and went out of the pawnshop were connected throughout the story. Gotta say, I liked that hook. Obviously, if it's chronicles, like the title suggests, that it's going to deal with a lot of stories within that area, within that state. But at the same time, I needed a bit more from the story to actually, let's say, appreciate the connections. Because Elvis's story really wasn't about anything other than getting to his gig. I didn't see much of the connection from him to the other story lines. And in that sense, it was just very disjointed from the first, which was a very short story, to the second, which made up basically two-thirds of the film. And the third one, I was completely unclear on at the end. I am uncertain about how these three were actually connected.

Now, taking them separately. The first one was about Paul Walker and he and his friend trying to rip off the person that has been supplying them with the drugs that they have been selling, thinking that they're gonna have a big score. And his interactions with his companion and just playing a good old meth head was very entertaining, very fun, unique as well. His take on the character was insane. At the end of the film there were a couple of blooper reels with him in it and they were just so insanely unique and funny and silly. It does not compare to any of his other roles. And at the same time I was very sad because then he died at the end of his segment, sorry, spoiler alert, and it was the best character so I was very sad to not see him in the rest of the film. 

Because the rest of the film left me with a very weird punch in the gut. The second story starred such incredible actors as Matt Dillon and Elijah Wood. It was just insane to see a man trying to find his wife who had gone missing and only to find her being a victim of sexual abuse, of physical abuse, having become a slave to a disgusting perverted man played by Wood, which is a very unlike character for him. And it just left this feeling in my stomach that I was deeply disgusted by. And the man freed other women who were also abused of by this disgusting man who unfortunately by the end of the film we find out survived, despite him being one of those true motherf*ckers that you would be very happy to see in the ground. And I never, it just, it got to my stomach the way women are treated, the issues with Stockholm syndrome, the disgusting abuse of it all. It was just too much. It was fucking too much. And the last story from the film didn't really give us a good conclusion to that because at the end, yes, we can see all three stories coming together. But it still was so much deeper than all the other shit in the film... there was an imbalance. I was deeply disturbed, disgusted. I just left wanting an actual resolve, an actual solution to the situation, not having seen one, not having gotten one from the story was abysmal. And the main guy, the husband, Matt Dillon's character who tried to save his wife, obviously he did not know how to cope with somebody suffering a severe Stockholm syndrome and believing that her captor is actually her savior. It makes sense that it caused a lot of damage in their relationship and there really wasn't a relationship to fix there. But overall, it was just gut-wrenching how disgusting it was and how he was the one who, through karma, in the end also died. But he died trying to save her so it really didn't feel satisfactory.

Finally, the last story was about an Elvis impersonator, played by Brendan Fraser, who was very good in this role. It drove me insane that he was in this small f*cking town and people didn't recognize his outfit. He was so f*cking clearly Elvis, it could not have been anybody but Elvis, and it did not make sense. And this town, which up until then was just a southern town with meth heads and, I don't know, some assholes, it turned into this very weird, very disgusting place where the guy who is actually proposing ideas about Jesus was the devil ... I didn't understand. And then Fraser's character sang one song, which was just drawn out and very long, and the girls who had escaped from their abuser were there. And instead of me feeling like at least these girls will be, I don't know, will find some joy in being free from whatever it is that they went through, the dude shows up and takes them back into captivity. And the Elvis guy.... the whole thing was weird. I can tell it was on purpose, but I don't know to what end. His ex-girlfriend, who was a bitch, was also taken by Wood's character, and I did not like that twist, I don't care for it, I don't think it was, I don't know, smart. But all these girls were dressed in flags, and was this symbolism that the United States is a fucking rotten, disgusting place? I don't understand. 

There was a barbershop scene where people in town were insane, and again, I don't know if it was just this Elvis character's view of the town that this was just a bit fucking weird. So the movie started off with fantastic acting, fantastic dialogues, silly but insane people trying their best at life, and just being idiots, ultimate idiots, with fantastic dialogue. And then it turned completely stomach churning, and then finally the last chapter was just weird. And I didn't see how these three actually connected. There was a bit of a running joke that one of the stories was brought on by a guy who sold a ring to the pawn shop, and then he finds that same ring at the side of the road, and then he sells it again. Ha ha ha, cool. The film has left me with more questions than answers. Now, should you watch it? I do think that for the first half of it, it's worth it. And the acting is brilliant, with an A-lister class of actors. There are these American films which are just chapters of something, and I do believe this was supposed to be one of those. And I understand if that's all it wanted to be, to be a chapter, but overall it wasn't disgusting enough, nor was it scary enough to elicit deeper meanings. And it wasn't silly enough to be laughable, unfortunately. So it kind of fell in between. 

If you are a fan of Paul Walker, and that is why we are here at the end of the day, I do suggest you watch it, you check it out, because his acting in it is brilliant. It's too bad that it's only done in the first half of the film, well first one third of the film, but for him it's worth it. This was to date the last film that he appeared in before his passing. So this one was special even for that sense. And yeah, I do think that it's worth a watch, but lower your expectations. 

Thanks so much for reading. Make sure to look around the blog for other posts, and if not sooner, then I'll see you next year on the celebration of his birthday.

Exit Stage Left: Quitting Academia

It has been a couple of months now since I made the decision to quit my PhD. I was close to finishing, but life happened. More than anything, I felt completely burned out—and I’ll have a separate blog post about that soon (still working on it). What has become very clear over the past few weeks, though, is that I made the right decision when I left my academic career behind.

There were many reasons behind my decision, but three in particular stand out. I wanted to write about them because, of all the things people warned me about when I started my PhD, these three were ones no one saw coming.

1) A TECH MOGUL BOUGHT AND DESTROYED

ONE OF MY RESEARCH PLATFORMS

Over the years, I developed a deep fascination with John F. Kennedy—and also RichardNixon. I spent years searching for new angles to analyze their media presence: how they opened (and tried to close) the door to the White House, how they were portrayed in popular culture, and how their ability—or failure—to establish a relationship with the media shaped their legacies. I wrote several essays on the subject, and some were even published.

But focusing on media meant also keeping up with its evolution. From the printed press to mass media to what now plagues our phones and screens: social media. President Barack Obama was the first to recognize its potential for campaigning, but even with an official White House profile, he didn’t yet use social media for serious campaigning. Still, slowly but surely, Twitter became one of the most widely used free platforms for political discourse in America.

I had charts, data, and numbers on how congressional and senatorial candidates used Twitter to campaign—and I loved doing that research. I was always online during presidential debates. Twitter functioned like a massive live chat room, with celebrities and friends reacting in real-time. It felt like being in a big room, discussing history as it happened. It was an incredible time. Seeing a random social media platform transform into a free forum where voters could reach their elected officials (and vice versa) was a sight to behold. I loved researching this.

But then social media changed—and right in front of my eyes, my research platform became… unavailable. First, President Trump created his own social media site, which wasn’t open to users outside the U.S. for nearly two years, making analysis much harder. News sites and pundits quoted his posts, of course, but conducting unbiased research meant accessing the material firsthand. Second, came Elon Musk’s acquisition of Twitter. Since then, content moderation has changed significantly.

People have left Twitter in large numbers, migrating to Meta’s Threads or the more independent Bluesky. But as of now, neither platform has reached Twitter’s scale. It’ll take time to see the numbers. Many influencers have already said Bluesky “feels like old Twitter,” but I’m not sure that’s enough to persuade people—especially political figures who benefited from Twitter’s free and open interface for so many years—to make the switch.

So whether my research can be continued remains uncertain. There are promising studies tracking how users move between platforms. But even if we believe Twitter played a significant role in Donald Trump’s re-election, just last week, despite Elon Musk’s efforts, the Wisconsin Supreme Court seat remained in Democratic hands.

The only real conclusion right now is that it’s too early to draw any real conclusions. More time needs to pass. We’ll see whether social media remains a collection of echo chambers or if free public discourse can return—and with it, candidates encouraged to use these platforms again. These echo chambers have continued to mislead us, as we saw clearly in both the 2016 and 2024 elections.

2) THE TOPIC OF MY DISSERTATION WAS MIGRATION TO THE UNITED STATES

When I started my PhD, I left behind the topic of Presidents and moved on to migration. There were several reasons for this—not only was my advisor well-versed in the field, but I also saw an opportunity to combine my other major, Italian, with my existing knowledge of American culture. The focus wasn’t just migration itself, but the representation of migration.

I worked extensively with Italian Americans, a group that fascinated me. From the first Italians who made the trip, to the fourth and fifth generations who still proudly identify as Italian today—everything about that trajectory blew my mind. I loved doing this research. I still love it. I can talk about it for hours. So many people told me I’d grow tired of it by the time I finished my PhD, but for me, that never happened. I was incredibly lucky in that way. It’s also part of why I didn’t want to quit. The stories I wanted to tell felt important—needed to be told.

Still, even when narrowing my focus to a small slice of the broader picture, I had to keep an eye on the whole thing… and parts of it are rotting. Right in front of my eyes.

When I heard that a father had been wrongfully deported to El Salvador—after a judge ruled he should not be detained, and despite his legal right to be in the U.S.—my gut reaction was disgust. This came on the heels of a similar case involving a Lebanese teacher, also wrongfully detained and deported. Every week brings another horror story: gross mismanagement, wrongful deportations, all from a racist government in power. And frankly, I can’t stomach it.

I can’t, in good conscience, just focus on past migrations. Trends must be analyzed; waves of movement have to be compared over time. But I can’t simply zoom in on the parts I enjoy researching. It’s impossible to do this work while ignoring the daily decisions being made by the Trump administration about migrants—both legal and undocumented. I wish I could just focus on Italian migration in the 20th century. But that’s not how this field works.

All of this is to say: I’m angry. I do love my research. Even after seven years in a PhD program, I never came to hate it. I never got bored. I just cannot, at least for now, bring myself to dig deeper.

3) ChatGPT

Here’s a hot take on academic writing: it’s boring, repetitive, and written in a style we like to call formal—when in reality, it’s just about stretching a five-word sentence into fifteen. There have been multiple studies showing that the mandatory academic articles we’re forced to write are read by, on average, 2–3 people. Can you imagine that?

Can you imagine having to publish just to get your PhD, to move up the academic ladder, to even be considered for a full-time teaching job—when virtually nobody reads the work? There’s a whole saying for it: “Publish or perish.” This pressure is so widespread that it birthed its own grim motto, yet each individual article gets read by two or three people. It’s ridiculous.

And it’s even more frustrating because not everyone is suited to endless publishing, presenting, and researching. Some of us—like me—are meant for teaching. And others should never, and I mean never, set foot in a classroom.

As ChatGPT became more well-known, I saw students experimenting with it. A few tried to cheat (thankfully not in my classes—and for that I’m grateful; it showed me they understood that writing skills matter, and this wasn’t just another class to pass and forget). Unlike many of my colleagues who panicked and assumed everyone would cheat, I wanted to explore the tool myself. I wanted to see how it could be integrated into the classroom.

But then I started using it… and it wrote, in seconds, a chapter that was better than anything I’d written for my dissertation. I was left feeling… empty.

What’s the point of forcing people to churn out publication after publication when, one: nobody reads them, and two: AI can do a better job? I was already struggling to convince myself that the conferences and papers were worth it—just so I could keep teaching in higher education. Because the fact that I was a good teacher—that I consistently had 30-33 students apply for a seminar that could only seat 15—meant nothing. My teaching ability, my connection with students, the work I put into making class engaging—none of it mattered in academia. And that makes me incredibly angry.

I knew the system from the start, but the workload expected of professors is beyond unreasonable. It's unsustainable. The result? Mediocre research. Mediocre teaching. Every student who complains that university sucks? They’re not wrong. The system is broken.

And insisting that publications still matter in the age of ChatGPT? In my humble opinion, that’s a scam.

Dear reader, this blog entry—this very one—was reviewed by AI. And I can tell you: it made it better. I know my limits as a writer. I love writing, but now I have a tool to help refine it.

So what’s the conclusion?

Nobody could have predicted these changes when I started my PhD. I don’t regret leaving academia—it’s a system that requires extensive reforms. But I do miss the classroom. I miss the energy of a lively discussion with students. And it breaks my heart to know that as long as the system values obscure papers more than human connection and effective teaching, there’s no future in higher education for teachers like me.

That deeply saddens me.

Still, we move forward. Some time has passed, and I know I made the right choice. I just hope I can recharge—and find my potential again.