fuck a new years resolution
even though time is arbitrary i also can't wait for this year to be over
happy december 31, 2020! I wish that we celebrated each day as much as we celebrate the new year, but to be honest I think I’m still stuck in july.
before I finish my last newsletter of the year (ha ha ha) I did want to thank you all for sticking with me! I try to not look at substack stats since this is largely just a way for me to create a little community of thoughts, but my newsletters have hit 80% open rate which is absolutely insane to me (just based on the number of emails I personally ignore). thank you thank you thank you for sharing your thoughts with me throughout this and for giving me the encouragement to continue writing on my own terms.
2021 does not roll off the tongue very nicely
even though it’s been a while since we’ve last ~virtually connected~, this one will be briefer than usual: the combination of winter, the looming one year anniversary of the big Quar (with a capital Q) and everything else means my brain has largely been short-circuiting.
this year has been horrible to say the least — the wombo-combo of pandemic-related isolation and frustration, combined with the realization that there’s been a lot of Bad for a long time and many of us, myself included, were too privileged to really see the festering wounds in society. it’s like driving by the bayou and admiring a houston sunset all while holding your nose and ignoring the fact that pollution, not a heavenly influence, is probably the reason why the sky looks so pink.
I personally am choosing to enter the new year in absolute denial that it’s happening, and I’ll keep that mindset until proven otherwise. but the inclination to celebrate the end of this year comes from a very human belief that all bad things come to an end eventually — even if there’s no clear signs that point that way (@me avoiding all the inevitable long features about how the vaccine rollout is disastrous). I feel that we haven’t processed the months of pent-up trauma that we have collectively been experiencing out of fear that in our moment of vulnerability, disaster will strike harder than ever. so instead, we wait with bated breath and crossed fingers and hope that fireworks will usher in the changes we so desperately need.
with new years comes the inevitable desire to start afresh, which really makes me think that the southern hemisphere has their shit figured out because who has the energy or desire to Start New Things in the middle of the most depressing season (especially in Texas)??? as I ruminated on potential new years resolutions, I started thinking about how so many of them — like so many things in our great american society — are focused on self-improvement, mostly for the benefit of yourself. whether it’s exercising more or quitting vaping or starting a side business, resolutions are often framed as something you can accomplish alone. while self-care and prioritizing self is a major hurdle for many (especially those who are used to giving), a lot of generic resolutions end up along the lines of How Can I Become A More Productive Member of Society?
I wondered if there’s a way to reframe new years resolutions to be from a community perspective, and wrote some possibilities for myself below:
Resolving to go to therapy in order to relieve friends and family from the emotional burden I place on them during trying times
Intentionally and methodically distributing wealth in the form of mutual or direct aid
Shopping from smaller, more local businesses in every domain, from food to clothing to gifts
Becoming a better listener in order to become a better friend
Trying to understand more and expect less from people, including my parents, so healthier relationships can be born
these resolutions are less SMART goal, less results-oriented, but feel gentler, more realistic, and more in line with the framework I want to see more of in the world. what are your new year’s resolutions?
we really decided bald eagles were the symbol of freedom and then pushed them to the edge of extinction #justgirlythings
I spent the last six days driving to and from west texas. as we drove down us-90, watching trees become shrubs become savannah erupting into hills and then mountains, the original appeal of the West became apparent — the feeling of endless freedom and potential, with no signs of development as far as the eye could see: just us, hurtling along the road in a metal box going 100 mph blasting old taylor swift songs. it felt american, it felt wild and true, it felt fun and collegiate and adventurous. it felt like freedom. reader, i was truly feeling 22 for the first time in a while.
but our 100 mph stint was abruptly stopped by a sudden mandatory border patrol check, where maskless officers inquired about our birth towns and, upon hearing no suspicious-sounding accents, let us go without asking for identification. a swift reminder that freedom in america is as conditional as proximity to whiteness is, that only a portion of america ever experiences prolonged ‘freedom,’ and even then, to a varying degree.
there is nothing free about being strapped to tens of thousands of dollars in student debt and trapped at an increasingly laughable minimum wage, nothing sexy about a bloated private sector and vulture-like ‘entrepreneurs’ that pick at the bones of the industries they destroy, nothing true about a dream that involves working yourself ragged for most of life so that you can be quietly retired into a nursing home.
on the 534 miles there and the 534 miles back, we saw a collective 71 trump flags/signs/bumper stickers: raggedy, flown next to a ‘don’t step on me’ flag; new, flying above a Mexican flag; pink and bright, on top of a tractor in the middle of a ghost town; spray painted on rotting walls; looming on the bed of a pickup truck that cut us off in the middle of traffic. of course, one sign hanging across from the border control station itself. in this paraphernalia, I saw hopes for a return to “Freedom,” the tattered remnants of an american dream that was never intended to be accessible to the people who still hope to dream.
a section in which I exclusively hype up my friends because I haven’t consumed any Media for weeks now
(i do have one non-friend recommendation and it is this article about how a bloomberg journalist covering martin shkreli — yes, that asshole — FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM. it is SUCH a wild ride to the end. it haunts me to this day.)
my friends have newsletters now! feeling like an #influencer. read anson’s “third thing” for really interesting, well-informed thoughts on public health and social media and everything I wish I knew more about. since my last newsletter anson has pumped out six (6!!!!!!!!) articulate, spicy newsletters. she is the more consistent, more well-read version of me. also, read liana’s late night snack for content that feels like one of those lovely long conversations you have when you run into an old friend at a coffee shop. (fun fact liana and I used to co-run a blog in high school when our biggest problems were having tiger moms lol)
the lovely aris dropped a chapbook of poetry called blac•ademic and for just $9 (including shipping) you can Cry like i did. I am so lucky to know people who are so gifted with their words …
happy 2021 friends! see u in the new year.
love,
christina