Happy New Year! Don't be a pu$$y

milestones, my resolution, and some musings from my journal

Milestones

You can make a milestone out of anything. The rules are bent beyond rational explanation every day by people with far more influence than you or I. Look at the NBA: you’re watching a game and (I’m pulling this one out of my ass) Stan Van Gundy announces, “Jalen Suggs just set a new league record for most consecutive free throws made by a Saint Paul native in the month of DECEMBER! This young Magic team is making history!” What is anyone supposed to do with that information?

I hit some milestones just this morning:

• First attempt to drive to Dunkin without GPS (failed)

• First attempt to back into the driveway in the new car without using the crispy back-up camera (failed)

• First sip of Dunkin matcha (cursed)

This was the Year of the Milestone for me. There was professional success, yeah. Flickers of creative affirmation. But it was the classic shit that hurtled the stakes of my relationship to high heavens that really moved me. I became an adult many times over. I fell in love with the same person a bazillion ways, all predictable, American, perfect. Have a taste:

Body check: 48 hours before my wedding

The House We Bought and Lost

Blue Gatorade & Beef Jerky, Iced Coffee & Fries

Philadelphia, I cannot forget your sublime cruelty

Beauty Thief - for my daughter

Resolution

My resolution for 2025 is DON’T BE A PUSSY and I’ll be damned if I let the Soft Life propagandists stop me. I went for a walk yesterday and cried over a dead bird. In my defense, it was a large seagull splayed out in haunting crucifixion, its wings wide open and its legs stick straight. I don’t think that necessarily makes me a pussy but it’s illustrative of the sensitivity I seek to temper. I’m tired of being all woe is me about every pregnancy pain, every bad day at the office. In 2025 I will Stone Cold Stunner my own reflection and call that giving myself grace.

Musings

This is the journal I’ve kept since July. It is a Moleskine I got from work, a “gift” from the agency who manages some of our creative (notice their logo etched into the cover). Smeared with ink and half-thoughts. It’s very dear to me. Far dearer, in fact, than the other Moleskine filled with writing ideas and research and outlines. I thought it could be fun to lift some lines (verbatim) and share them here.

July 23, 2024: Cog in the machine vibes are strong today. Boss said my value isn’t based on what I like or am good at, but what I add to the business.

July 24, 2024: A quiet mind shouldn’t feel like such a luxury. Shouldn’t feel like something I have to strive for. A quiet mind should be the baseline, only porous to what I invite. And yet I feel more absorbent than ever. Running is the only real source of quiet. But I don’t want clarity that requires pulling the lever of my endorphins.

August 19, 2024: I just looked down at my hands and thought “three cheers for the worst dip mani of my life.” I am pregnant. Irrefutably, unmistakably growing a whole ass child. I think it’s really clicking for me, the inclination to protect this child and ensure everything goes right. The acceptance and surrender to all the elements crashing against me at once. These hormones are crazy and at the same time, the Prozac is flattening me a bit. It’s weird to feel at once numb and insane.

September 23, 2024: I want to go to nursing school. I want to blow my money on crypto and strippers and Annie’s mac & cheese.

October 21, 2024: When I get to the bottom of the page, it’s so hard to write and I wonder, has it always been that way? It feels almost symbolic of what I’m going through as a writer—this limitation of space and freedom that renders my work contrived and sloppy, unintelligible.

November 6, 2024: I don’t want to watch mass deportations of good people who come here to start lives and find opportunities.

November 10, 2024: I feel overcome with gratitude and tenderness today. It’s Mousse’s fourth birthday. I often feel like it could be just him and I left in this world and I’d be ok, that is how understood he makes me feel. I stared out over our yard this morning, observing all the animals start their days. The sky was so hazy pink, blue, and purple. I saw the bluest blue jay I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t believe it. I am just so happy here.

November 14, 2024: Refusing to give up my dream is the most audacious thing I’ll ever do.

November 26, 2024: I fear one day he will want a happier kind of woman who doesn’t complain because honestly, he doesn’t himself. He’s so good at being a person in this world and I often feel I am not. I am sensitive and erratic and terribly bound to hormonal whims. I find myself wishing I was easier quite often. I believe there exists many a maxim about the inescapable truth of our aloneness. Every battle of the mind and spirit must be won in private. Sure, we can be supported by loved ones—that’s almost all we have in life. But how things pan out ultimately rests in our own hands. My hands are very small and I am very weak but I hold on tightly and carry what I can.

December 22, 2024: I am excited to get my new pen tomorrow evening.

December 23, 2024: Using my new pen for the first time. I like it. Nothing too crazy, but it feels light and smooth.