2023, a reflection.

it’s that time again— december’s here and marching on as its wont to do. and with its marching, comes the cyclical stirring in me to look back— at my camera roll, my playlists, my heart and disposition. and this year, my first instinct is to question, how are we here and now already? it still feels like it’s 2020 and we’re all on the precipice of something that won’t be snuffed out… i don’t do this often enough anymore; excavate and examine and exercise my fingers on a keyboard (or in a notebook, for that matter). but i love this time of year, with its gimmicky sparkles and best intentions. and i’ll keep joining the chorus of reflection as long as i’ll let me.

on the first day of 2023, i hung out with a litter of puppies, boosting my serotonin as high as it could fly. and a few days later, i found the most beautiful banded tulip (sans creature) i’ve ever seen, a string of good signs i was glad to hold onto in the midst of ‘more of the same.’ it was a new year, but i was still clocking in to the same jobs on the same days, still combing the beach for treasure, still…me.

to get out of a lingering bout of restlessness, i pressed ‘purchase’ on a resale ticket for a show at the Ryman and made the long february drive to sit in a pew and sing songs about the complicated nuances of returning home. i felt it in my bones, alone and alive. i had coffees, meals, and drinks with friends— the way it ought to be. and i’d like to think i drove home like new, doused in a snifter of amaro and new perspective.

as winter trudged on, i leaned into the magic of having something to look forward to, all the while trying to press into everyday moments as they whirred on by: midday ice-skating, a thoughtfully cooked valentines dinner with the best person i know, a road trip to a tiny show in north carolina to hug a friend and dance along.

by springtime, i’d feel full in the way i’m always chasing: small under the snowcapped mountains of montana, laughing ‘til we cried as a stetson flew off into the riverbank. soaked to the bone in a nosebleed seat singing along with taylor swift ‘til 2am. fresh in love on a long weekend at the starlight, the taste of Lewandowski’s rose cuvee still on my lips.

summer was sticky with southern heat, work’s busy season punctuated with beach days, jumping in the ocean just to cool off. we’d drink mai tais and sour beers and espresso tonics, play at the arcade with the tourists, get out of town when we could. just as the heat began to lift a bit, i found myself in new york again, the timing serendipitous— a walk to la cantine for tea and toast each morning, late night pizza and all-day cheerses, a few nights seeing friends play their songs, a little like old times. i developed my first roll of film in a long time and felt new again.

the rest of 2023 played out like a song that comes on at just the right time— las jaras on the boardwalk at sunset, too many baseball game hot dogs, a weekend in wilmington ft. walks for coffee and beer and some of the best meals i’ve ever had. making the rounds of nashville firsts, lasts, and favorites, squeezing every ounce out of each day, because what the hell else could be more true and right? there was halloween weekend in rhode island with some of the best, narragansetts on a boat at sunset and feather boas at the bar after dark. and then, there were christmas parties and dog cuddles and laughing under a blanket, looking up at the stars, thinking with all its stops and starts, mundanity and excitement, this life can be quite alright.

and like it was meant to be, before the year ended, i found myself singing those same songs i sang in that pew back in february, only this time i sat close, and i wasn’t alone. i let go and scream-sang along, teary, with a whole new year of life behind me. i’m 28 now, and by this point maybe i thought i’d have kept taking more photos and writing more books that might be seen and read by more people ( i still could!). but for now, what i’ve got is this small corner of the internet with my grainy photos and rambling end-of-year reflections i do to celebrate and remember it all. and for that, i choose to be grateful, open, and full of something like hope.

BEST OF 2023

RECORDS (favorite track)

  1. I Miss You Already + I Haven’t Left Yet - Del Water Gap (Doll House)

  2. Paint My Bedroom Black - Holly Humberstone (title track)

  3. Zach Bryan - Zach Bryan (Fear and Fridays)

  4. Sunburn - Dominic Fike (Frisky)

  5. Messy - Olivia Dean (UFO)

SONGS

  1. Time Ain’t Accidental - Jess Williamson

  2. ifshitfuq - Meg Elsier

  3. Gimme Back My Soul - Medium Build

  4. Cubic Zirconia - Katy Kirby

  5. Spring - Briston Maroney

BOOKS

  1. Maame - Jessica George

  2. Happiness Falls - Angie Kim

  3. Lessons in Chemistry - Bonnie Garmus

  4. Nora Goes Off Script - Annabel Monaghan

  5. Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros

2022, a reflection.

a preamble:

each year before i start writing my ‘year in review,’ i reread my words from the year prior. it’s a bit of contemplative comfort, a nod of gratitude to the days that got me here. and usually, the process helps me descend into the open-hearted nostalgia required for the task of reflection. but this year more than anything, i was surprised– and kind of impressed.

the words i wrote last year really struck me; i used to have such a finger on the pulse of who i am. i used to spend my time differently. i used to write and photograph my life as often as i did anything else, and 2022 has seen me doing far less of each. thus, i’d like to speak an intention into 2023 before i even start to look back. it’s something i once would have considered backwards, and it is– but beautifully so. here’s to more words, more film!

now, a rewind. the last hours of 2021 began with a few friends at the bar we always go to, and dwindled across the street at a party i snuck into (with permission) so i could have that illustrious midnight kiss. as 2022 rushed in, i felt like i was a part of something. and i was; i am.

so it was a new year with more of the same– the same two jobs where i make the same drinks, the same brown-and-blue bedroom, the same morning coffee order, the same deep-down warmth of being in love. i’ve come to believe there’s a particular bravery when it comes to both staying put and leaving for somewhere new, and this year i started to tread the line between wanting them both. 2020’s favorite song, Oxbow, would learn to loop in my mind, “i want it all, all.”

and i tried my best to have it. with a bit of determination, 2022 would lend me some time away, stolen moments with people i love. reminiscing out late in both Jacksonville and Savannah, dinner on rooftops and in a yurt. the celebration of ‘1 year’ in Wilmington, a cancelled concert, yet cheers-ing anyway. a last minute road trip for a quick catch-up and to see RKS play ‘Work Out’ live for the first time, all to be back for work in the morning. 

spring and summer came and went, and my weeks stayed structured– thursday night dinner club, beach walks at low tide. i started reading again as the weather warmed; i had a goal of reading 20 books, and somehow ended up reading 93 (i saved $1703.65 by using the library this year!). when i wasn’t daydreaming, there were beach days and trips to Charleston: for concerts in the rain, cocktails and karaoke, meet-in-the-middle lunches. i turned 27 there too, over a clear morning hunting shark teeth and a rainy afternoon drinking cynar lemonades. 

in autumn the season slowed, and the beach seemed to sigh in relief. we went to baseball games and batting cages, played mini golf and arcade games. i went back to Nashville again and it still felt special. only this time, i found i miss its familiar streets, its restaurants i used to frequent, the people i love there. i still do want it all, all. 

winter’s around again and finds me fresh off my last trip of the year– taking in the magic of New York at christmastime. i breathed in the path to every old haunt, tried to freeze time over breakfasts with friends, walked Ridgewood in the rain for a solo dinner. i may have lived there for only a moment, but there’s no way i’d be me without those months.

and i suppose i wouldn’t be me without 2022 either. with all its comfort and confusion, library trips and beach walks, love and longing. as the year closes, i’m left feeling both settled and scattered, yet gratitude continues to punctuate each moment with some sense of peace. and for now, that’s all i really need. 

2022 BEST OF:

RECORDS:

  1. Stick Season - Noah Kahan (Homesick)

  2. Blue Rev - Alvvays (Tile by Tile)

  3. Highlight Reel - Trella (Float)

  4. Fruit from the Trees - Jack Van Cleaf (Rattlesnake)

  5. The Last Thing Left - Say Sue Me (The Memory of the Time)

SONGS:

  1. Boys - Indigo de Souza (an old song, but 2022’s new-to-me favorite!)

  2. Work Out - Rainbow Kitten Surprise

  3. Water Pressure - Another Michael

  4. The 1975 - The 1975

  5. Always Gonna Happen - Savannah Conley

BOOKS:

  1. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow - Gabrielle Zevin 

    • picked this up because i liked the cover, and an unlikely story about friendship and video games ended up being the most beautiful book i read all year.

  2. Oona Out of Order - Margarita Montimore

    • a book unique in structure, that felt like a movie from the first page i read. oona is maybe my favorite protagonist of any story ever.

  3. This Time Tomorrow - Emma Straub

    • Straub’s writing always impresses me, but this was her best yet. a non-gimmicky time travel story, a love letter to new york.

  4. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid

    • what can i say? it lived up to the hype.

  5. Funny You Should Ask - Elissa Sussman

    • i delved into some romance novels this year, and though i fell in love with Emily Henry’s writing, this story felt particularly human in the midst of its sparkling cheesiness.

 

2021, a reflection.

2021 has been…an anomaly. the very quality which makes reflection such a difficult task, is the same quality that deems reflection almost necessary. last new years’ eve unfolded at an inlet house party, with an assortment of virtual strangers, and one who would become a good friend. late night, cheap beer, the most excitement i’d had in months. i had a good feeling about 2021, and turns out i was right.

as the year rolled over, i kept walking on the beach— with new faces and old— still with an affinity for picking up shells along the way. and somehow, as the days passed, the place i was “biding my time” in while i “figured things out” started to feel a little more like home. and in the last days of february, before spring snuck in, i wrote my number on a napkin. and it turned out to be the unassuming start of something good.

i quit my job making coffee and started two more jobs making cocktails instead— like i’d wanted to all along. i went back to nashville for the first time since november 2019; its familiarity was endearing, its restaurants still special, its people still deeply important. but it didn’t feel like home anymore, and it felt peaceful to say so. i drove back to the beach fast, only stopping for gas, and left a barstool open beside me.

spring faded into summer in a haze, as less of my moments were spent on my own: bike rides for coffees and beers and pizza, walks around brookgreen to see the otters, late-night cheerses once we closed up the restaurants. friends came to town, and i found friends here. i turned 26 with my favorite dog in the world beside me, and i spent the day on a golf course in the rain. i found my first ever sharks tooth, and then i went out a few times a week to find more.

autumn found me on the go: a whirlwind weekend in new york for blue bottle and bars, for broadway, for long walks and friends and a surprise slice of delivered birthday cake. a quick, eventful trip to atlanta to see st. cloud played live; it felt like floating. a weekend in north carolina for pinegrove and the delight of being let into day-to-day ordinary. a 24-hour jaunt to greenville just to have dinner and breakfast with my friends.

and now winter leaves me with a routine i’ve come to love: coffee before work, cocktails as the day ends (new recipes each night), kitchen dances and card games, golden girls on the tv as my eyes close. 2021 may have found me writing less and reading less, but it also found me open— to change, to sameness, to hope, and love. and open is all i ever wanted to be.

here’s some music i loved this year, in no real order:

  1. true love - hovvdy

  2. cool dry place - katy kirby

  3. del water gap - del water gap

  4. if this isn’t nice, i don’t know what is - still woozy

  5. you have to watch your teeth get worse - james lockhart jr.

  6. sunflower - briston maroney

  7. imaginary people - charlie martin

  8. changephobia - rostam

  9. history of a feeling - madi diaz