New Years Morning, 2026
I feel like I flopped over the finish line from 2025 to 2026 like those insane marathon runners who get so dehydrated and exhausted that their legs go all wobbly. I attempted to ween myself off of social media for December, and did scale back considerably before posting a million saved up images for Christmas that I threw up on Instagram Stories for my viewers’ hopeful enjoyment (there were a LOT). But tapping out of, oh, 70% of current events didn’t do much for the mental state of exhaustion.
Some of this 2D feeling comes from having completed a project but having to sit on it for a bit longer. Some of it from constant static…inescapable when your day job is retail - you’re gonna hear about politics whether or not you want it. Having a couple days off to unravel, imbibe, eat all the salt and sugar within reach has coaxed me back into the 3rd dimension again. I still feel really, really tired. Driving in winter doesn’t help. It’s getting worse, I swear. I think people are getting their licenses out of mall vending machines. Spending time commuting feels like donating blood. I would appreciate some juice or a cookie after donating, please. You’re draining me.
No resolutions for me. Never prescribed to that notion. Years feel like chapters folding over, paper cut outs getting hung up, maybe as a lantern, the snowflakes you made in kindergarten, maybe just crumpled up failed experiments. It’s whatever. What I will be doing is setting aside the bags of sugar and salt I’ve been shoving in my gob and getting back to some semblance of routine. The brain fog needs some water and lime juice to rinse off the North Saskatchewan River brown out feeling.
I hope everyone had the type of time and space they needed over these past couple of weeks. Or crowded crushes of love and family. Whatever floats your boat. I’ve been up since five, having fallen asleep early last night to Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, a sleepy tradition. It was so quiet and peaceful as I stood in the cold of the balcony. I could hear the sound of the train crossing blocks away. Now, a couple hours later, snow removal. A siren. Keys in the hallway. The din rises. A few more early nights with fingers-crossed solid sleep and the ability to filter out that din will return.
I had a lot of plans I wanted to jam into yesterday, New Years Day, and none of them happened because I decided nothing was more important than rest in the softest clothes under the softest blanket. I succeeded at that, and that is enough.
Happy new year, everyone. Let’s make stuff this year.