I guess we'll never know

This year really snatched everything, huh?

Guys, I'm eating junk and watching rubbish! You better come out and stop me! 20th Century Fox.

I turned 35 this year if we’re going by mathematics and birth certificates, so I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the places I’ve been and the choices I’ve made, and what it is I plan to do with the one wild and precious life I have left. The Pattern told me that it’s likely I feel a force field around my hopes and dreams, and that’s one way to put it, sweetie! I thought maybe I could use the quarantine to reshape my entire identity but instead it was lots of crying and writer’s block and depression naps and depression showers and living vicariously through my Sims, which has ironically reshaped my identity?? The sky was orange and the dog’s hair was fucking everywhere, and I found new spots in my apartment to stare into space from. Most mornings I looked at the clothes in my closet in mild disbelief, as if I didn’t know where they came from or who they belong to. Sis, remember skirts? My style has evolved into a rotating mix of oversize slogan sweatshirts, oversize prairie dresses, and an assortment of “day leggings” and “evening leggings” that I wear with “socks that should definitely be washed.” This year I’ve looked like I was either leaving a ‘90s workout class or surviving the Dust Bowl. I made sure to get photographic evidence of the few times I wore jeans or a full face of makeup to scroll back to on days when I hadn’t left the couch. 

And now it’s December, the Friday at 4:30 of the year. She’s almost done with work, ready to go home, wrapping things up or swearing she’ll do them next week, and then there’s that one person who wants to start a new project and D’s like, why are you giving me more to do at such an emotionally delicate time? Back when I was a working member of the Media Elite™ I spent much of mid-December throwing out bons mots like “Let’s put a pin in this,” and “Sounds good, I’ll circle back after the new year!” then forgetting about it completely. Things were so different back then because I had a desk calendar and a special password for Netflix screeners. Let’s chat about privilege! 

So this year I watched movies and TV shows along with everyone else and just sat quietly with my reactions rather than sharing them on the internet, which felt very ‘70s chic. It was a blessing not to be asked by a white person if I would write a thinkpiece on Black Is King. Normally I’d scramble to pitch “10 Reasons to Be Obsessed With The Queen’s Gambit” but the new me just texted a friend “OK, The Queen’s Gambit???” with a flame emoji. I’m a free bitch, baby! Speaking of friends, I rearranged my Top 8 this year! It was definitely a tough process but it’s all for the best because now I know where people stand emotionally and also morally, yikes. My mom texts me inspirational cartoon quotes from the Live Love Laugh aisle of the internet and a recent one said we make friends “for a reason, a season, or a lifetime,” which I get. This is a season of Black Mirror and you gotta keep your bubble tight.

Lately, I’ve been a little stuck on alternative outcomes, not in a regretful way but in a logical, well-adjusted “What if this thing happened differently or not at all?” way. Over 300,000 people in this country have died and an equally alarming number of others refuse to accept the results of the election, and also the president has given up on his job like it’s Friday at 4:30 for real. I can recall times I tried to convince myself that what was happening actually wasn’t, but I do wonder what my life would look like if I didn’t believe in facts or science or things I can clearly see with my eyes. Would I be happier or sadder? Blissfully ignorant or filled with endless rage? I don’t understand why some people want to be oppressed so badly. It’s not exactly a trip to Disneyland.

In his essay for the New Yorker, Joshua Rothman writes about our infatuation with wondering what might have been. He explores the idea that capitalism has elevated our choices, thus increasing our number of unclimbed ladders and unlived lives, and argues that those unlived lives, though imagined, are still a very real part of who we are. I keep from wading too deep into the coulda-woulda-shouldas by trying to remind myself that we’ll never know. Because of my Scorpio placements, it’s terrifying for me to not know things! But it’s the only way I can avoid K-holes of self-doubt borne by the idea that I could somehow abandon this life and jump on my ghost ship. I remind myself over and over again that we’ll never know what could have happened this year if not for fucking Covid, or what would have happened if I sucked it up and stayed at my job, or what Derrick Barry should have done differently on All-Stars 5. Not only will we never ever know, but it barely matters anymore. This is where we are.

My main goal for 2020 was surviving 2020. Looking back is bittersweet because I have to admit that scattered amongst the whack-a-mole of garbage fires, there were a handful of highlights including but not limited to learning how to care for my natural hair, spending time with my dog, spontaneous day drinking, and “WAP” (there was only one ho in this house, sad). Now that we’re in the home stretch I can confirm that this year has taken every ounce of energy and sanity that I have, can you relate? It feels like the last five minutes of a workout class when I’m completely exhausted and honestly just lucky to be alive. And this is controversial but I don’t miss paying money to exercise my body in a room packed with other bodies, all breathing and sweating next to each other, with racist lighting and maybe a small fan in the corner. Sue me!

Currently keeping me afloat:

• Candles, candles, candles. I am a proud Candle Bitch and thankfully my loved ones know that they can throw any candle at me and I will burn it with a smile on my face. This year my incredible friend Danny gifted me Jonathan Adler’s Holiday Pop and the Heretic Violet Chachki Burlesque candle — the hotter it burns, the more naked she gets, and same! I also received this beauty from the lovelies at Meghan’s Mirror, and every time I light it I say a prayer for property in Montecito.

• All available holiday entertainment, especially this new R&B Christmas album the ‘90s sitcom Christmas episodes on Hulu. They really wanted kids to know the true meaning of the holiday, which is not about getting presents but being with your family and inviting homeless people over for dinner without asking your parents first.

• My plan to watch Home Alone while I’m home alone on Christmas. A solo holiday chills me but being able to do whatever the fuck I want on a holiday thrills me! If I can be alone on my birthday then I can surely be alone on Jesus’s birthday, and it doesn’t matter anyway because the true meaning of Christmas isn’t being with your family, it’s being with your presents, and I just ordered a new candle. (Sidenote: should I do candle content?)

If you’re reading this, I’m sending you all the vibes I can muster to help you finish this fuckshit strong. Stay safe and healthy and as mentally together as possible. If I could hold your hand without having a panic attack, I would, I promise! Happiest holidays, whatever you’re celebrating.