The next test
The most difficult day of a new habit continues to be all of them.
But then you get up the next morning, finish washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen from the previous day’s work, and head to a breakfast at the office among more than a hundred of your colleagues, again.
But of course when you arrive there are a hundred more co-workers, a wholly other team who has gathered in Oakland for their in-person time. Faces you may not have seen in months, or sometimes years. Hugs in the hallway, waves through walls of glass, minute-long reminiscences of how fun things had been six re-orgs ago.
Each interaction a tiny gift—a tiny burst of heartfelt joy—that also expends a tiny spoon.
Then there’s buying my lead lunch from my favorite tiny Thai spot downtown, in the few minutes we had to ourselves. And then scooping up a dozen co-workers to embark on a kayaking adventure I had not myself experienced and thus did not know what to expect (or how to help set folks’ expectations).
There was plenty of nervous excitement, but not one of us expected what came next.
A nearly windless, warm and sunny day out on the open waters of San Francisco Bay. Harbor seals, and pelicans, and cormorants, with views of the SF skyline, the Bay Bridge, and the USS Hornet (a decommissioned aircraft carrier from WWII, now a floating historical museum).
We arrived back at the beach, each of us fully astonished by the experience, and found ourselves greeted by an osprey warming himself in the late afternoon sun.
And yet despite how hard we have just pushed our physical bodies (I will have trouble moving in the morning) the day is far from done. There’s the return to the office/hotel to get changed for dinner with a different small group, including folks we might not know. Helping folks load their transit card for the BART ride into SF.
Contributing to a 7-person conversation (something my brain is not naturally wired for) and sharing small plates (something I am even less naturally wired for).
Continuing to spend spoons beyond the point of being gone, compartmentalizing away the consciousness that this project lay in waiting.
My day was swallowed up by the surges, ebbs, and flows of living and working. I did not spend the day processing—or even looking at—the onslaught of daily “news”, as TFP announces his collaborators—a grotesquerie of blowhards, kooks, racists, and co-authors of Project 2025. On the water I did not stop to reflect on the impact of TFP’s tariffs on the Port of Oakland we paddled alongside.
This is meant to be more than a journal of self-reflection. It is meant to be a call to daily action. And there will be even more tiring days ahead.
One thing today
Tonight I set up a monthly contribution to CalMatters, a California-focused nonprofit newsroom.
All of the @#$%ing things
Night 6: Made homemade donuts for my team
Night 5: Opted into a paid Buttondown tier
Night 4: Reviewed my local election results
Night 3: Deactivated my X account
Night 2: Contributed to my local nonprofit newsroom
Night 1: Started by starting
Words, sorts, and thinks by Chris Ereneta, from Oakland, California. Thoughtful feedback and questions are welcomed at that.often@gmail.com