fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the corporate culture of Journal.
Diary of Anony Elle
If you read the last post, forgive me… I was rambling. See, I have a plan! I have learned that perfection is not needed to start that plan. So, I just started it. I am committed and I will not allow my circumstances to deter me like I have many times before. Not this time. This time I am focused, dedicated, and willing to do everything that I need to do to achieve the outcome my babies and I deserve. I now know who I am, who they are, and what I am up against. I do not plan on being nice anymore, now that I know how stupid nice is. I do not wonder if they love me (“they” will be revealed soon) and I know who my enemies are; so I no longer have limits.
By Anony Elle10 months ago in Journal
The Quiet Link Between Evening Light and Restless Sleep
For a long time, I believed my restless sleep was caused by what happened in my head. Too much thinking. Too much stress. Too many unfinished thoughts that followed me into the night. I tried calming routines, earlier bedtimes, and stricter boundaries around work. Some nights improved. Many did not.
By illumipure10 months ago in Journal
Diary of Anony Elle
If you are reading this the battle has begun. I have packed a small suitcase, a small duffle bag, and a bookbag to begin my travels from Chicago to the Orlando area. I am looking for my babies and I will go to the highest mountain and the DEPTHS OF HELL to find them!
By Anony Elle10 months ago in Journal
Digital Landlords: Algorithmic Control in Bangladesh Ride-Sharing
By Tuhin Sarwar । Published: 13 January । 2024 । DHAKA, BANGLADESH At 4:30 AM, when most of Dhaka still sleeps, Mohammad Rahman starts his daily negotiation with an algorithm. He opens three ride-hailing apps simultaneously – Uber, Pathao, and local newcomer Shohoz watching the digital maps light up. His motorcycle, purchased with a high-interest loan, waits as he does. The algorithm will decide his day's fate.
By Tuhin Sarwar10 months ago in Journal
The 5 AM Myth: Why I Trashed My Alarm Clock to Finally Find My Edge. AI-Generated.
The blue light of the smartphone screen felt like a laser beam hitting my retinas at 4:58 AM. Outside my window, the world was a bruised purple—silent, freezing, and utterly indifferent to my "ambition."
By George Evan10 months ago in Journal
Mosquitoes' Bloodsucking Tubes Could Enable High-Definition 3D Printing
In science, progress often comes from unexpected places. Sometimes it arrives through billion-dollar instruments or massive computational models. Other times, it shows up in the anatomy of a creature most people spend their lives trying to avoid.
By The Biotech Lens 10 months ago in Journal
How The Destiny Swapper Was Dupped
What if your death had a due date? What if it were written not on paper, not in a hospital file, but carved into the bone-memory of your bloodline—an ancient marker ticking quietly beneath your skin like a clock no one else could hear?
By Omasanjuwa Ogharandukun10 months ago in Journal
The Gate We All Walk Through
I didn’t realize I’d disappeared until I saw my reflection and didn’t recognize myself. It wasn’t sudden. It was slow—a word silenced here, an opinion softened there, a laugh forced to match the room. I traded pieces of myself for acceptance, like coins dropped into a vending machine that never gave back what I paid for.
By KAMRAN AHMAD10 months ago in Journal
The Keeper of Secrets
I didn’t go in for a book. I went in to escape the rain. It was a gray Tuesday in March, the kind of day that presses down on your chest like a wet blanket. I’d just received news I wasn’t ready for—a job lost, a relationship frayed, the quiet unraveling of plans I’d spent years building. I walked without direction, shoulders hunched, until I saw it: a narrow storefront with a flickering “Open” sign and a window full of leaning paperbacks.
By KAMRAN AHMAD10 months ago in Journal
The Last Game of the Season
I didn’t go for the win. I went because it was the last game. The gym was packed—folding chairs lined the walls, parents stood in the back, and the buzz of nervous energy hung thick in the air. Two rival high schools, decades of history, one championship on the line. But I wasn’t there for the trophy. I was there for my nephew, who’d spent all season riding the bench.
By KAMRAN AHMAD10 months ago in Journal
The Man Who Fixed the Clock
I didn’t notice the clock was broken until it stopped. It sat on the corner shelf of my grandparents’ living room for as long as I could remember—brass, ornate, with Roman numerals and a soft, steady tick that marked the rhythm of every visit. My grandfather wound it every Sunday without fail, even in his nineties, even when his hands shook.
By KAMRAN AHMAD10 months ago in Journal
