I didn’t make it to midnight to see the stake put through 2025’s cold, black heart.
I fell asleep about 9, while listening to Hot Jazz New Year’s Eve on WAMU, and woke at 11 to Fred Astaire singing “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.” I turned it off, turned off the lights, and called it a year.
There were snow squalls overnight, and I woke to some light snow. Some of it melted in the sun, but it’s bitterly cold.
I went out to the store in the afternoon, and the roads were fine, if covered in salt and chemicals.
Swampy. My word for 2026 is “swampy.”
After two job rejections today, perhaps my 2026 will end up with me living in a van down by the river… err, swamp.
This year, I intend to read James Joyce’s Ulysses. There’s a Reddit group this year tackling it.
I intend to finish writing the book I started in November, which fell by the wayside as my dad was hospitalized (twice) and my mom died. I didn’t have the mental space to carry on from the twenty pages I wrote.
I intend to find a job. Unemployment sucks. I said to my mom, in one of our last conversations, maybe the last, that “something will shake off the tree,” but I only have a pile of rejections to show for my efforts. The market for marketing and comms professionals sucks.
