The eve!

Paying special attention to groceries

I’ve never thought much about the significance of New Year’s. I guess other things mark passing time more visibly for me, like the changing of seasons, or the way my cat grows bigger, the way she feels a little heavier each time I lift her up and the braver she becomes, the less she hides under the bed or runs from visitors. Or maybe it’s marked by the aging of my dog, the couple of hairs that seem to turn gray overnight and how she has a harder time jumping onto my bed each time she tries, though it used to be so simple for her, so insouciant for both of us. It could also be the more careful I become with things like money and groceries, making sure I have enough for the next couple of weeks but not too many, not so many that the bread will mold by the time I go home, not so many that the oranges start to mold. It could be the way that I’ve begun to feel each clementine in the bag before tossing them into my cart, or the careful observation of mixed greens, the exchange of packages upon noticing one too many wilted leaves. The passing of time is marked by my hair growing longer, my curls flattened down by the new weight they support. It could be the folds in my flesh and the wrinkles appearing on my forehead, the ones inferring that I spend my time smiling too hard or laughing too frequently. It could be the way my “junk” drawer can barely close, the way I barely have space for more trinkets or postcards to hang, the way my hallway always smells like cigarettes. What separates youth from adulthood, if there is any one thing? How do I know childhood has passed, and when must I force myself to abandon it?

People use the days following Christmas to form resolutions. People spend three weeks after the first remembering them and keeping consistent. People let them fade, people tuck them under the covers until next year, alter them so to an outsider, they have succeeded at attaining a semi-realistic goal they have rephrased for five years in a row, just to have something to work towards, to find some sort of stability or agency over the unknown, the unruly. Sometimes, a resolution sticks, and influences. But most of the time, it marks lost time rather than a peaceful progression, which is why for the most part, I have tried to avoid resolutions for the past few years. One thing a fading childhood has taught me is that we are not as immortal as we like to believe. Time moves quickly, and there’s no reason to prolong an aspiration until another year begins, until whatever concept we have of time changes, until the numbers go up. 

So, after completely dissing on resolutions and the significance of New Years, I will choose the opposite approach in the rest of this newsletter, because I think we can benefit from some hope on a day that exists as drunkenly beautiful, and as a paralyzing terror. Will I still be making resolutions? Yes! But, not in a checklist, not in an Instagram-ad “365 days of cleansing” type of way. Not in the form of targeted-ads trying to sell me on losing weight or throwing away sugar or an app to double my productivity. Just some things I want to do, for no particular reason other than that I think I would enjoy them. A simple list of hope, one full of grace and flexibility, one I know I am not likely to complete. One where I will be alright, with or without. 

My list:

Travel to Latin America, on my own

Read twenty books

Journal more

Try to write once a week (or more)

Learn more about tarot and practice

Spend more consciously

Drink more water in the mornings 

Practice collective action

I do not want to spend time trying to change. I know change comes naturally, and I know there’s no possible way to make one year a steady journey to self-improvement, whatever that means. There is nothing we should have to change to be more valued by society, more loved. The love you receive should be centered around who you are today, not what you might turn into. I know I’ll make mistakes and I know some of my bad habits will linger. I also know that I will accomplish things I’ve been wanting to, whether consciously or not, ones that couldn’t have been written on a list of resolutions. This year, I finally switched my medication, and I can cry again! I can feel so much more than I could for almost three years. I never would have predicted that, and it wasn’t an obvious accomplishment, but it has changed me for the better. There’s ways you can want to progress and things you want to conquer, but many of the more important ones won’t make the list. Their lack of prediction and planning does not diminish their importance. 

None of this lessens how much I love celebrating New Years, and how sweet of a tradition it is to observe. People coming together in Times Square to wait for midnight to roll around before kissing loved ones and drinking out of sweet, tall glasses is one of those things that makes me love humans. I am currently preparing to host an evening of dancing, drinks, mac & cheese, and 2023 recap slideshows. I love New Years for giving me an excuse to celebrate my beautiful friends, to make messes and clean them up with the people who make me whole. 

I’ll be starting some more paywalled posts in the new year, but there will still be plenty of public posts. Paid subscriptions are 40% off for one week, at $3 per month. If you’d like to support an independent writer, consider subscribing! https://bugbela.substack.com/newyears 

Thank you for staying with me through 2023. I look forward to many more years of Substack, more words and adventures to share, and especially more top sheets! Much love, and happy eve