small good things
There isn’t really anything to say about 2020 that hasn’t already been said. New years are so very arbitrary, like any demarcation of time and so many holidays—they have a grand cosmic significance but really, nothing is different. I agonized for so long over whether or not I wanted to write anything, because I genuinely have no desire to relive this year, but maybe someday when I feel ready, I’ll go back and read it, to remember the small bright spots that carried me through this year.
One thing I find the tiniest bit comforting is the thought of some faraway December 31st, when we’ll all ring in the new year, a mess of glitter and champagne and tears, and we’ll reflect on this absolute catastrophe of a year with a twisted sense of nostalgia. Remember this time X years ago? How crazy was that? And look where we are now.
I read a Vox piece about nostalgia, and an interesting revelation was that people often feel nostalgic for things that felt terrible at the time. It’s partly perspective, a reminder that whatever was so terrible was not life-ending, and partly the familiarity of knowing how the story will end.
Writing a traditional “year in review” felt wrong, and so this is not a year in a review but a very short list of things that I feel are worth acknowledging in a truly awful year. In the interest of a theme, it is resilience—the idea of personal strength in the midst of a total cataclysm, and the tiny bit of optimism that comes from it.
It’s a strange thing, to live through what you can consciously acknowledge is the worst year of your life. But I’m proud of the things I accomplished this year, even if they were just working through an insane amount of grief.
I remember taking this photo with eerie clarity, in Madison Square Park in the frosty darkness of early January—I remember fumbling with my camera strap because my hands were so cold, trying to get a shot of the crescent moon through the branches, everything was in layered shades of blue. It felt like a fresh start then, but it feels like a relic of another time now.
Small Good Things This Year
A deck that I made about Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s “WAP” went semi-viral in the strategy community; it was featured by a bunch of prominent strategists like Mark Pollard, Julian Cole, and James Whatley
Being invited as a guest on Mark Pollard’s Sweathead podcast (and being asked to design the very first annual report)
Receiving a scholarship to Scott Galloway’s Brand Sprint (designed to be a mini-MBA program) and completed three weeks of intensive study in brand strategy; it reminded me of what I love and miss about school and inspired me to learn more just for the sake of learning in 2021
Being selected out of over 2,600 applicants as the Bitch Media Writing Fellow in Pop Culture Criticism; I am so excited to write about my favorite topic with a feminist lens next year
Starting therapy—it has legitimately saved my mental health this year and I adore my therapist
Two of my friends adopted dogs: a mini Aussiedoodle named Adaline and a tiny Shiba Inu named Violet, and a third friend is currently fostering a series of dogs and texts me pictures (the last was a delightfully funny-looking one named Bliss; he was adopted!)
My very good friend got married, and while I’m sad there wasn’t an actual wedding, I’m excited for the real one post-pandemic—I’m picturing Gatsby-style revelry
The beautiful apartment that I was immensely sad to leave but that truly felt like home for a short time
The small joy of baking bread (and a lot of other things) from scratch
The Long Island City waterfront where I spent so many nights this year, full of loneliness and heartbreak and sadness, but where I also found some moments of peace and clarity
Discovering that you can order Asian snacks from the markets in Chinatown and they’ll deliver them to you
TikTok as a mental comfort before bedtime, like gradually smoothing your brain to sleep
Small corners of the internet that were welcoming, kind, and helpful as we all moved our lives online
I have the best friends in the world who are there for me when it matters most
Despite a whole pandemic, so many of my friends left jobs they hated and started new ones and I am so happy and proud of them
Most importantly, I survived this godforsaken year—my therapist says healing from grief is not necessarily measured by remarkable milestones, but in small steps that you decide “count”
Arbitrary as it is, a new year feels like a fresh start, even if only symbolically. There’s always an inherent optimism to starting over. There will inevitably be pain and heartbreak and loneliness this year, but at least we can collectively agree that 2020 was, in fact, the absolute worst. Be kind to the people you love. Wear a mask. Cheers to 2021, let’s go.
