no goals just vibes

I’ve never known what to make of the dead week between Christmas and New Years.

Part post-holiday blues. Where the red, white, green lights and inflatable Santas and songs that sound like childhood as they crackle over the radio change from glorious to grotesque. Where the turn of the calendar looms large in my mind. The future pulled entirely into the present.

Part excitement. Pretending. As if I get to start over with the clocks. As if I’m suddenly endowed with crystal-clear foresight. As if these few days are the only chance I have to take my direction seriously.

I didn’t want to write about the New Year. I don’t have anything new to say. But writing anything else would betray what’s been bothering my brain: the future. How intense its glare is. How supple but unsteady it feels. How uncertain, amenable to change.

 
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