constellations #102: twenty-twenty-four

thoughts on a blue and bright year

Hi again.

In recollections I keep mistaking June 1 as the halfway point of the calendar year, though of course it isn’t. But this year, for me, the date functioned like a fulcrum, gently tilting a year that had otherwise been on a downward slide. I was on the beach; my friends were there; the weather was perfect. There was hardly anyone else around and we were covered in mosquito bites when I admitted that I was having — had been having, really — a pretty rough time, emotionally speaking — feeling pretty mired in despair, guilty, tired, directionless, more or less devoid of hope; you know how it goes, blues running the game. I was kind of crying behind my sunglasses, which didn’t feel nearly as chic as you might think. My friends were sweet and kind and patient, which helped. Really, I felt a burden lifting. And I didn’t feel better immediately but I did feel better, much better, eventually. 

Looking back now, it all feels like a blur, like a world away. I don’t even recognize that girl in her sunglasses, or how she was feeling. Instead, lately, I’ve been feeling a kind of joy and gratitude — a lightness, maybe — that has surprised me with its lasting sweetness. I’m not sure what happened, not sure why I now wake up feeling some measure of peace. All I know is I’m grateful for it, and I know it won’t last forever, and I am holding very tight to it while I can. I guess that’s the story of this year: emerging from a dark blue period into something brighter and more serene. Or at least, that’s a story. Other stories: I published some writing I’m proud of, and I got to watch the birth of the Turning the Tables book, and while I didn’t find a new full-time job, I did land some contract gigs I’m very happy about; I felt near-constant despair about the needless death and suffering in the world, especially in Gaza but also everywhere; I started to feel some clarity about my future, finally, slowly. A few times, I got out of the city and out of the state and out of the country — upstate and down the coast and across the Atlantic — and it nearly always lent me new perspective. I played in a band, sang karaoke, went skiing, read to toddlers, ran in the sun, got dressed up, hosted a reading, called my friends, had the best banana split of my life. I was busy, busy, busy, and I have perhaps never felt less lonely — a dramatic turn from the recent past. If you are reading this, you are probably part of that un-loneliness, and I appreciate it.

At my lowest, in the past few years, I believed that the darkness I felt had always been part of me and always would be. And I guess I still believe that’s true. But I want to believe, too, that that’s also true of this magic I’ve been feeling lately, whatever it is. I guess I would call that hope. No matter what comes in 2025, I hope I can keep it alive. I hope that for you, too.

So anyway. Each December, as a tradition with myself, I make a list of the things that guided me through the year (see: 2023; 2022; 2021; 2020; 2019; 2018; 2017). Here is my accounting for 2024, plus some other miscellany.

june 1 — photo by matt

boredom: One true thing about me is that when I am very bored I get very depressed. My parents learned this lesson when I was in first grade and I’d throw a fit and refuse to get out of the car once we arrived at school each morning. At first they were concerned that I was getting bullied or something but no; it turns out, I was just really, really bored. My parents were relieved to realize this but historically I personally have had more trouble actually internalizing it. As I mentioned, I felt pretty awful for much of this year, and eventually I started to think this was partially related to a lack of gratifying and productive work (and, barring that, a larger sense of purpose keeping me occupied). Whenever I remembered this fact about myself I would, once again, try to make myself busy. It usually helped. I hope to remember this lesson in the future.

bulk shift at the Park Slope Food Coop: I joined the coop this year. (Hold for rapturous applause from other Brooklyn yuppies.) It’s fun to be part of something and I love collectivist values. I mostly work the bulk shift because I like smelling the spices and teas and getting first-hand experience with all the chocolate-covered things and small snack items. If you have a favorite coop shift, let me know, otherwise I’ll stay sorting cashews in the basement for all of 2025.

custom google maps: All year I’ve been consulting two maps I made: one listing all the places I’ve visited in New York City (places like bars, restaurants, bakeries, cafes, shops, etc.) and one listing all the places in the city I want to go. They’re private lists and I try to keep them up-to-date — every dinner date I go on or random third-location dive bar I hit with a friend or strange little vintage shop I hear about. I wish I had started these maps when I first moved here, of course; I’m sure I’m missing a few spots that I visited and loved then forgot, or had long been meaning to check out. Still, it’s been nice to have my little documents of recommendations and desires.

editing: Many years ago, when I interviewed for a journalism internship while in graduate school, the hiring managers asked me if I had any editing experience and I said, Well no, not professionally, but I have four siblings and I have edited every serious assignment they’ve ever written for school. (This is to say: I have always felt like an editor.) I guess that worked because I got the internship, and then I worked there for almost seven years. Eventually I learned how to be a real editor at that job — eventually it was my job title — from people who treated being an editor like an identity and a calling, who took serious pleasure and joy from the work. In my post-layoff morass last year, I felt like that intrinsic part of my personality got wounded, and I wondered if I would ever get to be an editor again — and, if I did, whether I’d still love it. Occasionally in the past year or so I would give feedback on friends’ cover letters or first drafts or random commissions, and I did love it, and that kept me afloat. But then this summer I got a temp job editing music criticism for real and I tapped right back into the joy; whenever someone asked how it was going I’d say, Oh, I just really love editing. And it’s true! I really do! And I’m really glad I get to do it again.

going to shows alone: I love going to shows with my friends, obviously. But I love live music enough that I often go to shows by myself and, for a variety of reasons, that was especially true this year. It’s fun! I show up whenever I want, I drink one or two Diet Cokes from the bar, I read something dumb on my phone in between sets, maybe I run into a friend or two, maybe I wind up driving them home. If you don’t do this regularly, I recommend it.

gnarly rae jepsen: aka the Carly Rae Jepsen cover band I am in. We played our second-ever show this year. Our first was a Halloween cover band show in 2018. The gig this year was to celebrate the 40th birthday of our drummer, Brandon. He booked this birthday celebration show and played five straight sets that night (a couple with his current bands, a couple with some reunited groups, and then our cover band) — an incredible feat. Anyway we started planning the Gnarly Rae reunion in January, began rehearsing in June, practiced all through the summer, and performed in late August, so it was a constant presence throughout most of my year. Playing the show was incredibly fun; we sounded amazing; so many friends showed up … truly a special experience all around.

heart on fire emoji (❤️‍🔥): My #1 emoji of the year. It feels soooo earnest and pure. Also in May I spotted a $4 cropped t-shirt with this symbol on it in a church thrift store and my friend Sean bought it for me and then I wore it nonstop for the rest of the summer.

realizing that desire can change: I used to think consistency was a central factor in the validity of my (or others’) desires but I’m not sure I believe that anymore. No longer wanting things I used to want, or starting to want things I used to find boring or cringe or too conventional or otherwise distasteful — this is all ok, usually. I suppose saying “desire” connotes romance but I don’t mean it that way (I am something of a paragon of consistency in that regard, lol) — I mean it about what I want for my life, big-picture, who I want to be and how I want to be understood. I spent a lot of time thinking about these questions this year, and wound up with answers that felt new to me — which was confusing and yet also thrilling. Anyway this isn’t the same thing as saying one should renege on a commitment or give up when something gets hard. It’s just an acknowledgement that I haven’t always known everything I know now, and the world isn’t the same as it once was, and neither am I, and as a result of these changes, my desires might change. Being open to change makes me feel very alive.

trying to be a good person: Another main reason I felt awful for much of the year, to be honest — we live in a corrupt world full of broken systems and impossible ethical bargains, and often this year I felt pretty hopeless about configuring a morally defensible existence that is also full of joy and pleasure and community, and about being brave and strong enough to do what I know is right. The year has come to a close and I didn’t figure out how to do this, obviously, but eventually I stopped thinking I deserved constant heartache and punishment for that sin. Instead I started to believe that my commitment to these questions would inevitably lead me in the right direction, and that I was not individually responsible for solving these problems once and for all, and that hiding from my privileges would not make me less responsible for them, and that, crucially, the people I love and trust would like to help me with these questions rather than shame me for my complicity or wave away my concerns. I do think I will be somewhere in this loop of fear and moral ambiguity forever but at least right now I do believe it’s more noble to be here — in it and continually failing — than to be hopeless.

weightlifting: Late last year I got yet another injury that kept me from running so I decided it was time to actually get serious about strength training (which serious runners will tell you is 100% necessary to avoid injuries but which I had only ever performed in a casual, ad-hoc way, for which I suffered the consequences). So I joined a gym and started Casey Johnston’s Liftoff: Couch to Barbell: my first experience with a very focused and detailed progressive-overload lifting program, which rocks and I highly recommend. I more or less stuck with lifting all year this year, though I got less precious about it after I completed Liftoff. I wouldn’t say I got so much stronger, honestly, but many of the benefits are extra-muscular — that is, I think it’s cool that I now know what a deadlift is and how to do one, and I think it’s cool that I faced my fears of the squat rack and the bench press and the loud obnoxious men at my gym.

etc: tie-dye; tofu; microdosing; codependency; hair accessories; physical therapy; group chats; the beach; the New York Liberty; crying in public; Bad Luck Bar; friends of friends; short skirts; saying life is so crazy out loud to Matt apropos of nothing; live theater; being in love

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in for 2025 (a wishlist): making out; making money; making friends at parties; the wisdom of experience; low-key book clubs; shades of purple; limited engagement; horse girls (loving them, being them); having a nightcap

out for 2025 (a wishlist): whole milk discourse; scarcity mindset; unnecessary gendering (“girl” dinner/walks/etc.); obsessions with self-actualization; trying to make french fries fancy; cultural criticism that is just an excuse for superfluous neologisms; ontological confusion about a blog post (fun, light, silly) vs. an essay (thoughtful, nuanced, well-edited)

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Thank you so much for reading constellations this year. I wish you health, happiness, and hope in 2025 and beyond. See you soon.

xo,
M