Preface
You are correct to assume, as the title of this story promises, that what you are about to read consists of my personal journal entries. While that is true, it is not entirely accurate or transparent. I’ll be selecting and pulling direct quotes from the black book that I carry around, yes. The entries exclusively stem from the last month of the year. The following excerpts are unedited, spare the intentional ellipses, however, which denote sections in my journal that were skipped. What I share is curated, for obvious reasons. Some things, I must not disclose, such as addresses and particular names. There are some things so private or so precious, as I was telling two friends earlier this year on separate instances, that I omit them from the pages of my diary, rather preferring to commit them to memory, no matter the almost fresh feelings they make me relive when I glance at an innocuous or seemingly unrelated reminder. The following is my reckoning with the conclusion of 2024. Bubbles and curtains.
Istart writing this in a familiar classroom: I have saved the majority of this year’s travel for the final month. To avoid the embarrassing iPhone reminder that storage is running low, I go to my camera roll, where a lot of cleaning needs to be done. I will doubtlessly take hundreds of pictures (if not thousands) on the upcoming trips, one to NYC and another to Denver. Before yesterday (December 1, 2024), my digital library of photos and videos consisted of over 11,000 pieces of media. On its surface, this is ridiculous. Yet it is proof of great fortune, an ongoing record of my never wanting to forget anything, my need to note or compulsion to capture. I romanticize every moment.
December 1, 2024: I’m on my way back home from the cemetery…It was similar to how I remember in that all the graves were marked by bouquets of mostly artificial flowers, contrasting with the yellow and brown lawn. It was different in that the pines were much taller than I recall, teenagers now. I was lucky to stand in their shade, as I left in a hurry, without sunscreen, hand lotion, and Carmex. The grave rests between the names Pedroza and Ceballos, about twenty feet away from where we parked the truck…Perhaps the most haunting thoughts are how I was greeted (upon opening the truck door, crows cawed) and the image of a lonesome woman who watered a nearby tree.
Mom said, “My parents are over there,” motioning to the southeast.
Ceci and I went to the store yesterday afternoon while Eli was at Beetlejuice The Musical, downtown. We had to purchase two condolence cards.
2:51pm: I’m at a coffee shop working on the computer, looking way more corporate than I am. I’m here primarily to organize and delete photos from my camera roll, an exercise that will easily inform a mental recollection of the year…the name on my receipt, which I needed for wifi access, is printed as “Hugi.”
- Instead of finding cash in an old jacket, I found an unactivated “Speedy Rewards” membership card, still attached to the promotional flier I folded.
- I wanted to exercise tonight…I got on the scale and was met with a flat reading…I stared at the numbers, illuminated by a blue backlight and decided against exercise, opting to watch the Bills vs. 49ers instead, an eventual blowout for Buffalo in snowy conditions.
- I ended the day by eating Lay’s Sour Cream & Onion chips and sipping on a small glass of Cabernet Sauvignon from Chile, a bottle opened on Thanksgiving, three evenings ago. The oxidized wine was tasty.
- For four nights straight, I plugged in the wrong cord to the humidifier. I can’t help but think that this means something.
December 2, 2024: Maybe the best part of fall days are the mornings — crisp, bright, clean, and grand.
- Overheard from a stranger: “I had the flu, then I got COVID. I got screwed so bad.”
I spilled a little bit of coffee into the car cupholders as I left for work this morning because the travel mug, a gift that says “COACH” on it, doesn’t fit the holder.
As I was falling asleep last night, it occurred to me that I am not in love with x, y, or z — but I am in love with, obsessed with, and tormented by the idea — the hows, ifs, and whens — of being in love. This, in my experience, is far worse than being under love’s spell. This realization swiftly brought about a sleep that lasted seven hours.
The sort of attitude headed into 2025, the vast unknown, is summed up by the end of a journal entry that is dated May 10, 2021: “Let’s see if fate operates on a grand and mad scale in my favor.”
On February 2 of this year, around 3:30pm, mom and I took photos of the same double rainbow that hung in the east, from different places. I love this, that we stopped at something beautiful and took the time to capture it with a photo.
Apparently, January of this year felt like forever. There were memes about it.
It took obliteration last month to make me realize the beauty before me.
December 3, 2024: Most trips to New York begin the same way, with little sleep. I got four hours last night, after a thrilling (gut-check) Broncos game. It was a shootout against the Browns in Denver.
The radio in the truck hadn’t been changed from two mornings ago. We listened to a Sirius station beaming classical tunes. Traffic on the way to the airport was limited. We got to Gate B6 (to Houston first) as the screen said there were 5 minutes to boarding. I guess I’ll get coffee and a bite in Houston.
- The Gemini horoscope in the newspaper ended with “Your presence commands respect.”
- God bless any professional alliance between Warner Bros. & Southwest Airlines for making both Dune pictures free while traveling. ❤ ❤
- The two babies on our previous flight loved dad. They displayed large smiles any time they caught his glance. Babies know.
Throughout my weight loss this year, the last hole on my belt has been used the most frequently…Now this belt feels borderline loose on my waist — a cause for mild concern. I’ve been running more because it’s my temple. Too many steps without enough food. It’s a simple caloric deficit. A few days before Thanksgiving, I felt mom’s gaze survey my entire height.
“Yes?”
“Nothing…”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s just that you’re so skinny.”
“I’m aware, thanks…Lots of racing lately. Sometimes a poor appetite. That’s all.”
…
“It’s just that you’re so tall.”
I’m like half an inch under six feet in height, which, to my sweet mother, is “so tall.”
“That’s why I’m eating right now.” Out of curiosity, I shot, “If I were obese, would you say anything?”
“No,” my mother answered.
That told me everything I needed to know. I can now see that the Atlantic is below me, thousands of feet below.
- In large and small ways, New York City shaped who I am today. There are so many memories that still reside here.
- I enjoyed a Nick Saban documentary on the way over.
10:16pm: We are in for the night. Rachel, Dad, and I had chamomile tea while out for bottled water. We had pizza earlier across the street, for dinner. The first Santa we saw was on a smoke break. A man in his 40s behind the pulled-down white beard. After lighting up and taking his first drag, he, according to Rachel, said, “Ho, ho, ho,” not so full of cheer.
I find it quite adorable watching Europeans witness jaywalking here. It takes them aback at first. They usually follow their shock with smiles and shrugs before jumping onto the streets to gleefully partake in the casual and ubiquitous activity, never leaving each other’s side, heads quickly turning to look up and down the street.
- Dad and I are sampling and sharing notes on the retrieved water: Poland Spring & Dasani. He was singing Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song” in a very sarcastic manner from the shower. “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…” echoed.
- The hotel room we’re staying in is on the 13th floor.
December 4, 2024: About thirty minutes before we awoke, the CEO of United Healthcare, Brian Thompson, was shot dead on the sidewalk in a targeted attack, outside of the hotel he was staying at, less than seven streets up from where we slept. Rachel, Dad, and I had breakfast across the street from the Plaza Hotel, in the cold shade around us. We took a stroll through Central Park. We met with mom and went to the NYC Public Library in Bryant Park, where we saw the original Winnie the Pooh, a Qur’an written on a very small booklet in the shape of a green leaf, and original pages from James Baldwin’s typewriter. From the library, we went off to go purchase used books.
4:30pm: Rockefeller Plaza. This tree is about 70 years old, I think, and is from Massachusetts.
The tree got lit today. There were lots of people and confusion. Mom made friends with fellow nurses from Berlin, Sabrina & Nicole. One of them had a tall son in his 20s, Kevin. Dad and Rachel had to leave early. So, in the end, it was mom and I who witnessed the tree light up around 10:00pm. Snow flurries began to fall around 8:38pm. The crowd cheered.
December 5, 2024: A 7.0 magnitude earthquake hit Northern California. The killer is still on the loose. They released his photo this morning, captured on footage from the hostel he stayed at. There were words/messages written on the bullet casings.
Whippets are in vogue in Williamsburg. Two images stand out from today’s walking around: (1) a baby in a stroller holding a lollipop in one hand and a dollar bill in the other. (2) A young man on the train who held a perfectly rolled and unlit joint.
Before catching a revival of “Cabaret” on Broadway, Rachel and I met with a longtime friend at a bar just north of McCarren Park. An employee of the clean and dimly lit establishment was stringing up white Christmas lights inside, aided by a small ladder.
I’ve gotten so many casual wafts of marijuana, sometimes from joints but mostly from pens.
NYC is the capital of imagining the rest of your life with someone by simply catching someone’s glance.
A man told me, “Those glasses are killer…I really want those glasses!”
My sister and I went to a bar in SoHo where all of the people who worked there shared the same English (Welsh?) accent. I was asked to help get a man out of the restroom, who’d locked himself in, sequestering himself from his girlfriend in a very stubborn fashion.
“You need to help me get him out.”
December 6, 2024: We had cookies and coffee for breakfast. My cookie was decorated with rainbow sprinkles. We’d gotten the goods from a bakery down the street. The coffee was brewed in the apartment. It feels like 17 degrees Fahrenheit outside, with the wind bringing temperatures down significantly. The room I’m sleeping in has three windows facing the street. It was very loud early this morning. As we get ready to step out, “The Godfather Part II” is playing on the television in the living room.
Two elderly women. One holding onto the other by the arm, friends. Broadway and W 50th:
“You’re never leaving my sight again.”
“Oh my god. That was awful.”
They exchanged these words with big smiles.
Adjacent to the Flatiron, which is under renovation, I stand beside a young woman, around my age, who is on the phone, speaking loudly. She’s complaining to someone on the other end about her mom’s visit to the city. “She was like talking to the Uber driver.”
There are white Christmas lights almost everywhere you look in midtown.
December 7, 2024: Last night on the ice, I must’ve been smiling the whole 60 minutes. The first two songs played were “You Make Loving Fun” by Fleetwood Mac and “The Dog Days Are Over” by Florence & the Machine.
Maybe right behind airports, this is the most fabulous place, that I’ve been to at least, to people-watch. People often carry, with their eyes, what they are feeling. Never what they are thinking…
Moving this many people on the subway safely every day is a miracle.
The Salvation Army bell ringers are dancing to “Feliz Navidad” in front of Radio City Music Hall, brimming with joy. “Take on Me” and “Jessie’s Girl” play later throughout the day, at different Salvation Army posts.
I lost my small notebook. It fell out of my back pocket somewhere in lower Manhattan, maybe when I was reaching for my gloves. The word “Visions” is written on the front. One lucky NY reader now has a mostly blank notebook. It’s their burden now.
December 8, 2024: A lady told me last night that her grandfather was also named Hugo…and she’s from Germany, born in Hamburg. Her daughter was surprised that I was from Texas, with “no accent” and “so chic.” My friend and I took their family’s Christmas portrait on the steps of a brownstone. They wanted to take our picture, but we opted just to take photos with them. Nice family from Jersey.
One day after my favorite meal in the world, I find myself in a McDonald’s drive-thru. I probably eat here twice a year.
December 9, 2024: How much of our identity and self-esteem is created and suspended by the opinion of others? That’s ceded power, right?
A clean inbox with no new mail, or social pings, is a salve for the soul. I feel that my life is in order.
When I told a friend that I didn’t want any part of this culture, the statement was answered with, “I can’t relate.”
I realized while folding and hanging clean laundry that the shirt I hung up months ago in a corner, to one day be cleaned of a grease spot, isn’t actually that dirty.
According to my Apple Watch, I just ran my fastest indoor 10k, which is encouraging. I don’t think I’m racing anymore this year…
They found a “suspect of interest” in the United Health CEO killing today. A young Italian man who was in Pennsylvania.
I’ve been watching hip-hop dance videos obsessively for the past 24 hours. Humans are amazing.
My smile lines are becoming more visible, equal evidence of my age and lots of happiness.
December 10, 2024: Bolillos are delicious. So simple. So honest.
I am lucky to be running out of space for books…According to my Spotify wrapped, July 14 was the day I listened to the most music this year.
My coworker thought I had been cast in a Broadway show, and that I wasn’t returning from New York. This was probably a misunderstanding or a fast-burning rumor of unknown origin.
At least my Duolingo streak is 477 days.
December 11, 2024: My Co-Star horoscope today is stupid and erroneous. I will pay it no mind.
Everywhere I go, the “Defying Gravity” riff.
Malibu is on fire. Another paradise consumed by flame.
As this year winds down, this is the summary of 2024: Not terrible, not excellent. My standards and expectations are maybe unobtainable, and I’m always dissatisfied with what is sufficient, as far as my own personal efforts go. When I rest my head on the pillow at night, I often contemplate what else I could have done — what I fell short of throughout the day. The thoughts and feelings of being inadequate, by one’s own measure (i.e., self-pity), is a piss poor sob story that gets nowhere. It’s not a good way to end the day, which essentially is the beginning of a new one. This is not to say that I have been dissatisfied with the year. Quite the contrary. I’ve had prolonged moments of peace and contentment. Beyond the stability and consistency of my own health, and that of my most beloved, what more can I ask for? Am I greedy for wanting anything else?
December 12, 2024: I am optimistic about the future of America because I have come to know some of her children. They give me hope and fill me with confidence. It’s more often the adults in my circles that drain my soul and temper my spirits.
December 13, 2024: I begin my day by folding laundry and sipping coffee. The Doors’ “The End” is playing. I can see that my desk is scattered with notes. Among them is a folded flash card, where I scribbled remarks I gave at an award ceremony last December. I found it yesterday, tucked into the breast pocket of the wool jacket that I wore. I remember that speech well. I initially forgot to thank my twin sister, who was in the crowd, which prompted me to rush for the mic again before the event concluded. This omission is odd because her name is the only one on the card. Everyone else is referred to via pronouns. It’s that time of the year again. Time to find the cash and trash in coats we put away at winter’s end.
I saw Jupiter from an airplane for the first time in my life earlier. It was majestic. I kept my eyes on the sky for the Geminids meteor shower, to no avail.
I can see neighborhoods illuminated by Christmas lights as I fly over suburban Denver. So much spirit and cheer.
December 14, 2024: Another compliment on my glasses today, from another stranger, this time on my round frames. “They fit your face well, baby.” The lady from which this compliment came, after I said thanks, then asked if I was “Here for the theatre thing.” I told her I was unaware of such an event. “Go Broncos,” she remarked, bagging my items in a brown paper bag.
Dad to a colleague of his at dinner: “I’ve been thinking lately — dangerous, I know…”
The same colleague mistook me for being 23, to which I just immediately said, “Thank you, but no.”
“Stupid lucky” was a term that I kept saying at the end of last year, to assess the collective personal and familial circumstances. I find myself saying it again. Typing it again. Thinking about it again.
December 15, 2024: A young man, probably a couple of years older than me, stopped me on my way to the bathroom at the Broncos game. He said, “Hey” with a smile as if he knew me, dapped me up, and walked away. It was the sort of interaction you’d share with a former college roommate. I don’t think I had ever met the guy. Maybe he was in Scottsdale on my birthday, where I won over a crowd in 90 minutes, unbeknownst to me.
We had dinner at a diner, steps away from the hotel. I had a veggie omelette. Dad had a gyro. And we sat at the counter, directly across from the kitchen, first appetizing on chips, salsa, and guacamole. The man next to me was talking to a couple to his left. He had their attention for the majority of the hour, talking about the Trump assassination attempt and Luigi Mangione — “the New York shooter.” The couple was completely transfixed, swept away in the stories and the man’s thoughts on the subjects, which were borderline conspiratorial. “I don’t watch the news,” he told them early in the conversation. “I’m from Los Angeles,” he said even earlier in the conversation. The couple got very few words in. It’s a miracle the man even touched his food through the sparsely broken-up monologue.
December 16, 2024: Looking out the large window…sometime around 7:00am, I saw a swarm of black birds flying over the downtown buildings, swooping past the full moon’s ascent…I admired the discipline of the construction workers at the corner below, physically warming up as a group (doing neck rolls and squats), as the temperature outside was 23 degrees Fahrenheit.
Idk why I’ve been drinking so much Smart Water lately.
I miss my dead dogs so much…They come to me in my dreams…I miss talking to them. I miss the walks, the playing, the shedding, the sneezes, the licks, the barks, and the dreaming.
So many leaves have fallen since my last run…Two people sat alone on different benches in the park. Both were staring off at the eastern skies, sunset behind them, probably contemplating different circumstances, or maybe shockingly similar ones.
What changed and what didn’t?
I’ve seen three roller bladers this month.
December 17, 2024: Exactly 365 days ago, I was sitting in a row of chairs by myself. Hundred of people at my back. For the first time in years, I’d allowed the blinders to fall, I saw their faces. I don’t recommend years of isolation to anyone, as — one year removed — I’m still recovering from it and the jarring contrast I encountered while somewhat slipping back into society.
How much of the world…comes from you?
December 18, 2024: It is funny how a fragment of reality, true information, can be made mythical with and by enough thought.
Last night I had a dream that I was in an auditorium full of young people. They made a mess of the large space, spilling and embedding LEGO pieces along the floor. I had them pick up every single piece. I woke up before the task was done.
It’s the season of stray gloves.
I’m inside the mall at 8:30am. I park far away to make sure I get the opportunity to walk through the empty building, shops not yet open. This is my favorite thing to do here, besides watching the films at the movie theatre inside. It smells like cleaning solution. The white floor tiles are glistening. I’m here to see “Interstellar” in IMAX.
Recalling yesterday evening, while I was on the courts, when I felt my face cramping. A smile had formed and stayed almost without me realizing. I was transfixed by the moonrise, a bright gibbous filtered and crowned by a misty cloud.
December 19, 2024: My horoscope via Co-Star, which I give little credence to (very typical Gemini behavior, so I’m told), has been hammering away at one consistent point the entire month: “The general theme of your life during this period is to contemplate the vastness of the universe and reconsider what role you want to play in it.”
Last night…We played video games and ate cheesy chips. Laughing that hard made me feel thirteen again. It was magical.
December 20, 2024: Endings are happening in small ways: a change of the linens, a new iPhone screen protector, a lens cleaner that needed to be thrown away and replaced.
17 seeds came from one cutie tangerine. This feels significant, like a fluke.
The public school students had early release from school for Christmas break today. They will get a full two weeks off to include the New Year. I saw high school kids running around the neighborhood, playing hide and seek or tag — or some combination of the two.
December 21, 2024: I started talking about the American Civil War with a friend last night and shortly after, he informed me that I’m 20% Millennial, 5% Gen Z, and 75% Silent Generation.
It’s the shortest day of the year, one of my least favorite days of the year because of how much I love sunlight. It’s 4:40pm, and the sun is in a hurry to shine on the other part of the world.
December 22, 2024: Michael Bublé is back, like Mariah — both in full swing, holding the season together with their voices.
I’ve been undergoing the most unusual sneezing fits the past week. I’m sounding like my father…I made friends with a black and vocal cat today. It was 65 degrees on the ride back home…From the grocery store we — Jacob, Rachel, and myself — rode top down, enjoying the mild temperature and full sunlight. We had stopped for egg nog. I was in the store for 6.5 minutes. I ran into nobody. When we got back to Cazul, Jacob and I put up Christmas lights — rather late, which is still better than never. His parents and uncle are coming over to watch the Cowboys play.
Still laughing about how, earlier this week, I accidentally purchased half a row of movie theatre tickets due to malfunctioning third-party software.
December 23, 2024: Everyone wants their tennis workout before Christmas. Within a window made possible by cancellation, I was at my closest Circle K. I’m probably in that building at least five times a week. I got a protein drink for a coworker, and a coffee and a (healthy?) Pop-Tart for myself. When I reached into the box for my snack and pulled out a blue feather, I stayed motionless — completely stunned by the soft object. I must’ve stood there just staring at it for thirty seconds, holding it in my right hand. It was deeply symbolic, somewhat reassuring my hunch that we are on the cusp of witnessing a great miracle.
A fortune cookie earlier this year reminded me that if we focus on the things we don’t have, we will never have enough.
December 24, 2024: Yesterday, my Yogi teabag read: “The only thing that can limit you is believing that you are limited. Become limitless.”
It’s nice to know that, while I’m not looking for a new job, I recently “hit it out of the park” in a series of interviews with one corporation.
It’s Christmas Eve. Around 6:00pm I was standing in the canned fruit section of the grocery store, which is open an hour later than usual (and closed tomorrow. I asked.), having to make three phone calls. This is life?
10:56pm: There’s a steady stream of fireworks booming somewhere outside in the near distance.
December 25, 2024: The fireworks haven’t stopped.
Scout came to me in my dream last night. Her presence was so natural that it took me a while to realize I was dreaming. Her cheeks were so soft and she looked happy.
December 26, 2024: I had a massage today. Then a haircut, where I got a military discount.
Yesterday was Christmas. Ceci and I saw the earliest screening of “Nosferatu,” the Rob Eggers remake. It was a delight to have her with me at the theatre.
It must’ve been the warmest Christmas ever…I shot a lot of our gathering on film: Rachel in town, her in-laws over, the boys, board games, chess, movies, eating, volleyball, opening gifts. It was a beautiful holiday, concluded by a group cleaning that left the kitchen spotless.
December 27, 2024: I dreamt of the end of the world last night in a very cliché way: zombie apocalypse.
Circa 1:45pm: My brother-in-law just got back from a gig. He came bearing donuts and hot chocolate. “I’ve got to take advantage of the time when calories don’t count.”
Alas, we find ourselves in the enchanted window of time between Christmas and New Year where work feels pointless and when cozy clothes feel appropriate no matter the setting. This is the void of Chaos the Greeks told about. I think it’s been just over a year since I’ve had hot chocolate. The last time was when Rachel and I were driving around Eastridge with the boys, admiring the houses illuminated by Christmas lights and decor — some quite Christian, others not so much. The top was down on that cold night. It was a much colder season last year.
December 28, 2024: I’m on my way to dinner to meet with my cousins, the ones who live here, the ones I love, the ones on my father’s side, the ones I seldom see. They told me that my older sister is supposedly in Washington, D.C. I haven’t confirmed this rumor, but it’s delicious.
December 29, 2024: Around 1:00am…two raccoons — perhaps related — crossed the street.
2:11am: No clue how I’m still awake. I’m on four hours of sleep. I’m so happy I don’t work in the morning.
I called Ceci this morning and confirmed that she was, in fact, not in D.C. I dreamt of being in a Catholic Church last night. I haven’t been to church in years.
Today is maybe the slowest Sunday of the year, characterized by a rare day off, the usual laundry, beckoning paperbacks, and a list of movies that need tackling. My eyes burn in what can only be exhaustion. I thought I slept sufficiently last night, but the Apple Watch data begs to differ. I really just need a good night’s rest. I’m trying, yet again, to grow facial hair, which will probably be gone by the new year.
2:26pm: Jimmy Carter just passed away.
December 30, 2024: I woke up with a sore throat, to very little surprise since I went to bed with one. I was telling two friends over for dinner last night that I felt one coming on, initially thinking the pain was due to food caught on the roof of my soft palate. It took an oral inspection to confirm that it was an inflamed tonsil. Since the morning, it’s all been remedied.
I found a window of time to run, moving to and fro the courts and the computer monitor. Runs don’t fix everything, but — oh boy — they sure do make things clearer. The flags in front of the Psychology building at UTEP were at half-staff, in light of President Carter’s passing. The university students apparently don’t return until the 21st of January, spare those returning for the “wintermester.” Acorns were everywhere. Three couples were at the park on cute dates. I folded laundry when I got back. I found my yellow lighter in the dryer — somehow surviving all the tumbling and heat. The butane luckily didn’t do anything to the clothes.
The Lions are playing the 49ers right now. It hit 72 degrees Fahrenheit today. What the hell?
I caught up with the family after they had dinner together. I had to work. They wanted pastries and tea after having tacos. We went to a coffee house, where we bumped into a dear high school friend of mine visiting from…the Lake Michigan area. I’ll be having lunch with her and her boyfriend tomorrow.
1:56am: I’m winding down for sleep. I have four different chapsticks beside my bed. This is subconscious overkill, just like the three wristwatches on the chair at my desk. Things pile up easily.
Advice to my younger self? Find a way to keep Blockbuster open.
New Year’s Resolution? Be better than yesterday. That’s it. For me, there is no quarter, yearly, 5-year, or 10-year goal. That’s taking time, not yet allocated for me or anyone, for granted. So I will continue to simply throw one foot in front of the other. Breathe. I’ve made the mistake of planning too far ahead, and the danger there was not making enough room for mistakes — which can be essential to growth, no matter the initial urge to forever label such mistakes as misfortunes or personal shortfalls.
December 31, 2024: It’s the last day of the year. And it’s a Tuesday? That’s hilarious.
I got decent rest, although I’ve recently found it hard to, when given the opportunity to sleep in, stay in bed for eight hours. I often stir awake from a dream and reach for my watch to check the time, inexplicably excited about an occasion or a prospect that has not yet announced itself. The calendar is wide open today. I have no idea where I’ll be or who I will be with at midnight…work is, in a shocker, keeping me peeled away from dinner reservations.
It’s 58 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” played as I made my bed. I’m slightly congested — allergies brought upon by this season’s uncharacteristic warmth.
I think I found a place for the bookshelf I painted earlier this month.
From inside the Whataburger, I noticed that the window had a sticker, which I read backward, that said, “One Nation Under God 🇺🇸 Indivisible.”
This seems misguided…
6:56pm: I was able to make the dinner reservation, still in my work clothes, so feeling rather underdressed. We come here almost every New Year’s Eve, mainly for sushi. I gave up meat exactly three years ago today, in Las Vegas, on a cold and windy night.
2024, while special and fun and full of growth, was not all sunshine and rainbows, as they say. There were periods when I couldn’t bring myself to write, update my planner, journal, change the bedsheets, hang or fold clothes, clean my lenses, shower, dust, and look into other people’s eyes — which is still one of my greatest self-identified defects. The entire fall was near paralyzing, mostly brought upon by a restless mind, an imagination that equally romanticizes and catastrophizes every person, possibility, or situation, leaving me with a clear and gray neutral, a heavily muted eureka! I can locate the moment when things shifted perfectly. It was the night we entered fall. September 21-September 22. “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran was playing in the car. Something swept over me that night. Ultimately, I lost more weight and was sometimes nourished, throughout the season, by music alone. So many texts were left unanswered.
Part of it can be explained by my proximity to heartbreak. Many of the people I was interacting with — friends, family, and strangers — were reconciling with some variation of distress, often romantic. Their pain tried to attach itself.
The other main explanation was a change in being. I’m almost religiously ruled by logic or reason. Before allowing myself to feel anything, my brain instinctively aims to process the predicament or situation first, to explain why I’m nearing an emotion. I felt that this was (ironically) irrational — thinking first and feeling second. So I decided to feel first…Feeling first hurts. I wanted to be human, figure out what this all means. I still do. I am ravenous.
It is time to raise hell — to rail, rave, reap, and rally.
All month, I’ve been tugged back to, often reciting, a Robert Herrick quote, from his poem “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time.” I wrote it down three times in a notebook, in pencil, filling all three pages with large handwriting:
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow will be dying.”
Jump high. Dive in.
Hugo is a writer of politics, culture, and fiction. Follow him on Twitter/X (@hugosaysgo) for recommended reading and memes, and on Instagram (@hugosnaps) for photography. Happy reading.
