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

2020, a reflection.

the first moments of 2020 were mostly laughable— i was surrounded by strangers in a charleston apartment, flecks of glitter stuck to my clothes from those flimsy, cardboard glasses. and then i was piled in the booth at a restaurant i never knew the name of, watching a half-serious fight break out while an unopened bottle of yuengling somehow spilled out into my bag of chinese take-out. driving home on january first, i chalked it up to a night i’d laugh about. or maybe one i’d even forget about, as living a life in new york felt like it was finally in reach. i guess instead, that night became some sort of omen for the year at hand: unusual chaos, collapsing plans, and the semi-sweet discomfort of becoming reacquainted with south carolina.

though nothing about this year has been foreseen or consistent, i knew i’d still inevitably dust off this space i take up on the internet to look back on how i spent 2020; and that in itself feels like enough of a victory. it’s been a year in three parts, distinguished by c*vid, by disposition and locale.

part 1 found me at the height of determinism, sitting in my hometown starbucks every morning, eyes glazing over at the massive spreadsheet of jobs i’d applied for in new york. i sent emails, fumbled through interviews, wrote an ungodly amount of cover letters. i started writing for a music publication and reading multiple books a week. i listened to the news every morning, ran every evening at the park down the street, watched a movie every night with my parents. i went to new york for a few days and flitted from bars, to shows, to parties with my friends— not knowing our glory days would be so short-lived.

in march i bought a plane ticket to california, and a few days later i cancelled it— so began part 2. i spent most evenings walking around our dead-end suburban neighborhood, on the phone with one friend or another. not having seen a friend in months, i really didn’t mind this new pesudo-reality at first. i exited out of my massive spreadsheet and re-opened the draft of my second book; by april, it was finished and printed. i baked bread and poptarts, perfected crispy zucchini and the NYT brown butter lemon pasta. i made a new cocktail recipe every night, which accidentally turned into my third self-published book. the week i sent it to print, the country plunged into unrest— and i sunk into an unshakeable state of frustration and apathy.

i got myself out of it the only way i knew how—making a move on a whim. enter, part 3. until june, i hadn’t been to litchfield since i was 18, but in july i applied for a barista job and drove down with a carry-on suitcase and very few expectations. yet, these months have held a barrage of reacquaintance: with the strip of beach i’ve always known, with family i haven’t seen in years, with versions of who i’ve been. most days i’ve biked to the beach, walked to the end and back with a beer, continually amassing a collection of shells i’m proud of. i’ve become a regular at my favorite restaurants and i’ve made friends. i’ve seen a blue moon, and more sunrises and sunsets than i can count. i’ve watched the tide change again and again, and over time, i fell into a rhythm that somehow, for now, feels right.

as this confusing question mark of a year comes to a close, i can’t help but feel grateful in the face of all the misplaced hope, lonely days, and re-routed plans…i wouldn’t be who i am now without it.

2020 BEST OF: ALBUMS, SONGS, BOOKS

FAVORITE ALBUMS:

Saint Cloud - Waxahatchee — my quarantine companion that somehow made southern suburbia sound beautiful.

Moveys - Slow Pulp — the definition of what it means to adapt, the echoes of my past lives in cities i’ve loved.

The Baby - Samia — an instant alone-time favorite, every track a piece of poetry.

Down Through - Gleemer — the emo small town soundtrack i’ve always wanted.

FAVORITE SONGS:

How Many Years? - Brother Moses — i never knew it was possible to pack so much heart into just 6 minutes.

Oxbow - Waxahatchee — one of the greatest track 1s in existence. “i want it all, all.”

Guest In Your Life - Sinai Vessel — this one will forever remind me of my one-song bike rides to the beach.

peace - Taylor Swift — the sound of an east coast sunrise, the sound of how it feels to be tethered to your life.

FAVORITE BOOKS:

during 2020, I set a goal to read 40 books—i ended up reading 61. which is WILD, yet a goal i’m really proud to have stuck to and exceeded. choosing favorites was nearly impossible, but here are 6 that changed me:

Book of Delights - Ross Gay — a practice of gratitude via essayettes. simple, human, observant; beautiful in the most rare and real way.

Swing Time - Zadie Smith — a novel about rhythm, about race, about friendship and love. there’s this quote that struck me deeply: “sometimes i wonder if people don’t want freedom a much as they want meaning.”

Find Me - Andre Aciman — i don’t think anyone has ever written dialogue and subtle banter more beautifully.

Where the Crawdads Sing - Delia Owens — a book that truly lived up to the hype; so many small moments of beauty and an ending i won’t forget. “…because people forget about creatures who live in shells.”

Trick Mirror - Jia Tolentino — the essay collection that made me think the most this year; there’s no critical thinker/writer i admire more than Jia Tolentino.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith — a book about nothing and everything all at once— in the best way.