Previously, in order to create a precedent, I wrote a year-end summary for 2022 in November. In fact, a lot of things happened in 2022, and there were a lot of things to say, but for a while, I couldn't remember them, and for a while, I couldn't say them.
I mentioned in a previous article that a quiet environment can make people think a lot. During this period of time, I thought about some things and wrote them down here:
We use our phones, when the phone runs out of battery, we charge it, and then continue to use the phone. When the phone runs out of battery again, we charge it again...
We wake up, finish what needs to be done, eat, go to bed, wake up again, do what needs to be done, and continue to go to bed...
It seems that each of us is trapped in one cycle after another, unable to break free. Birth, aging, illness, and death. Biologically speaking, this is controlled by genes, and from a certain perspective, it is also a kind of cycle.
Hutao, the master of the Wusheng Hall, once said, "Funerals and white affairs are the last dignity of mortals." We seem to rarely think about death, often because death is too heavy and we try to avoid it.
Since I came back from class, it has been quite a long time since I took a shower, washed my hair, or styled my hair. I have also seen on TV that some people go to the hair salon to get a haircut on the first day of reopening. (I feel that there is no need to imitate some bloggers and write about their infection experiences, there are too many, and most of them are similar)
Personal growth lies in acknowledging past mistakes, just as a nation needs to acknowledge its own faults. History will not erase any crime, whether good or evil, everyone's actions will be engraved in history and recorded in surveillance. If you don't acknowledge it, others will come to you. Some things cannot be whitewashed with words, only mistakes can be admitted.
On December 31, 2022, the classmates in our junior high school class gathered together for a New Year's Eve party through Tencent Meeting. Our school usually holds a party on the evening of December 31 because online teaching cannot be held. Our classmates in the class were still very excited, and one classmate live-streamed fireworks. (I felt down when the red envelope grabbing activity at the end was over, the red envelope was grabbed as soon as it was opened) There were nearly 3,000 messages in the class group that day.
I once explained to my Chinese teacher the significance of writing a blog, saying that it can record our thoughts at the moment, and when we look back in the future, it will have a different taste.
This is a quiet night, with a fairly sensitive phone, a good voice input method, and a person about to close their sleepy eyes, sitting on a chair and talking.