Signs displayed after Hands Off protest in Northampton MA.
It’s that time of year when I usually compile my favorite books and movies from the past twelve months. Offline, I do a lot of reflection during this end-of-year period, not just about books and media, but about events that have happened, places visited, new memories acquired. Taking stock of what went well, what didn’t, and setting fresh intentions. I eat up all that New Year’s stuff.
Part of this year’s reflection has been to finally face and ponder upon my online silence. I haven’t posted here on my “Wondering” blog for all of 2025 (my most recent post was last year’s books and media reflection!). I haven’t posted to Instagram either. Or really to any of my go-to digital channels.
I wish I could say that I had more intentionality behind my going mostly dark online. That it was in protest of corrupt digital media corporations. Or that my digital absence was replaced with more in-person presence. While I’ve tried to live more IRL this year, I can’t say that’s the main correlation.
I think the truest reason why I’ve been quiet online is because I feel I haven’t had much positive to say or share. The internet most days feels like a swirly pool of collective despair and burnout that I don’t feel it is useful to contribute to, even when I feel some of that despair and burnout myself.
Behold! The 2025 Chocolate Depression Cake I made! No really, that’s what it’s called.
I want to be someone who finds and shares light in the dark. I strive to approach life with humor, curiosity, and care. But, alas, despite being a connoisseur of silver linings, I cannot deny that 2025 has totally sucked.
Maybe it’s late-stage capitalism. Maybe it’s the state of the world, the horrors of an active genocide and the impacts of fascist chaos we now live under in the U.S. So many people around me losing or nearly losing their jobs, benefits, health care access, and (understandably) their sanity. Maybe I entered this year already burned out, having not yet processed compounding crises going back to March 2020. Whatever the reason may be, I haven’t found very much to laugh at or find light in. At least not for long.
I also feel that the internet has the unfortunate tendency to flatten the real complexity and nuance of human experience. Under the digital attention economy, we’ve all been conditioned for quick swipes and sound bites. Even a long-form, somewhat rambly blog post like this doesn’t feel like it even begins to scrape at the depths of what has been this past year.
My 2025 in summary right here!
So, I guess maybe sharing my thoughts to the interwebs has fallen aside as a priority this year. But hey, I’m still here! And no, it hasn’t all been negative.
Here’s a recap of some not-so-bad things that happened in my 2025 life:
1. I started making little zines and poetry books
I’ve been living in Northampton long enough that I’m now making zines. I took a bookbinding class at Looky Here in Greenfield and fulfilled my years-long dream of using an awl. I now have my very own awl and know more about paper grain and bone folders than I ever dreamed. I also started teaching myself illustration in Procreate.
My biggest achievement is self-publishing Party in the Well, an illustrated book of thirteen rhymes I wrote this year. I’ve been kicking around the idea for months and it felt so good to see it to completion. Shout out to the awesome folks at Paradise Copies in Northampton for helping me see it to print.
2. I discovered the UMass Amherst dining hall
Ok, this should probably say that I attended the 2025 Juniper Summer Writing Institute at UMass Amherst, where I got to workshop my writing with some wonderfully smart and talented writers. However, my biggest memory of the weeklong workshop is how much I ate in one week. It was scandalous. Full-course, buffet-style breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.
At one point, mid-week, I started recording everything that I was eating just for posterity. Tandoori salmon with cumin rice. Peruvian shrimp with rice and beans. I admit I might’ve even snuck out some food to bring home. UMass has some of the ugliest academic buildings I’ve ever seen, and yet some of the finest food in Western Massachusetts. What a delicious discovery!
3. I became briefly obsessed with Shakers and almost became a Quaker
On one of my trips back west from New Hampshire, I stopped by Fruitlands Museum in Harvard, MA, expecting to learn about the failed Transcendentalist commune that was once there. Instead, I picked up a mild obsession with Shakers that I still haven’t been able to well… shake (badum-tsss).
Coping with 2025 life with pudding cups and a Ken Burns documentary about Shakers
Little did I know that Fruitlands is also home to the World’s First Shaker Museum. I knew next to nothing about Shakers except that they were really good at making furniture. Turns out they were great at making so many things. Like they invented the damn clothespin! The part of me that really loves discipline became smitten with the Shaker lifestyle. Cue me watching Ken Burns’ 1984 documentary about Shakers, and me deciding that I should become one because there’s only a handful left alive now.
Since Shakers are “Shaking Quakers” I then plotted to attend a local Friends meeting, because at least that would be Shaker-adjacent. But the meeting time is inconvenient for me, and I have an irrational fear that the Spirit will compel me to stand and shout something stupid like “Spaghetti!” during silent worship. I might still go though. That’s a 2026 decision.
4. I joined some lovely local groups and kept going to them even when I was feeling down
I skipped out on the Quaker meeting, but I did start attending a weekly Zen practice group. I’ve been wanting to practice group meditation for years now, and I finally worked up the nerve to go try it out. I’m glad I did. I didn’t expect sitting for an hour in silence with others to be so grounding.
I also joined a sweet, queer book group this year and started volunteering monthly with Great Falls Books Through Bars, packing books and responding to book requests from incarcerated folks across the country. And I continued going to a weekly writing group at the library, and that’s been meaningful.
I tried hard to find reasons to be around other humans in 2025 and show up and be present even when I wasn’t feeling 100% mentally at my best.
5. I sniffed a corpse flower
Yes, I consider this a positive thing! A blooming corpse flower is a rare event! When I read that it had bloomed, I got up early to walk to the Smith College Botanic Garden, waited in a little line, and then took a big whiff.
After less than 48 hours, it was already starting to wilt, and didn’t smell nearly as potent as I’d expected, but it was still an awesome experience.
6. I got to reconnect with distant people and places more often
It feels kind of ridiculous that now that I live farther from my family and coastal friends and coworkers than I ever have, I see them more than I did when I lived closer to Boston during the pandemic. I loved that I was able to visit New Hampshire and the Boston North Shore multiple times this year.
Some of my fondest memories of the year were in familiar coastal places. Like visiting Crane Beach for the first time in years, a place I would go to so often when I lived in Ipswich. Celebrating my friends’ daughter’s seventh birthday. Meeting my other friends’ new adorable baby. Taking a walk through the cemetery with my mom and her pointing out graves of our dead relatives I never knew were buried there.
It’s double-edged. On the one hand it leaves me wondering why I moved inland, farther away from the people and places I’m already connected to. On the other hand, it makes visiting feel like a special occasion worth savoring.
7. I walked by this Garfield-hugging alien nearly every day since August
I joined a co-working space in August, so I no longer spend the majority of my days isolated in my apartment anymore. That’s been pretty great for my mental health. But maybe even more positive is the wacky window display at the psychedelic record store that’s a few doors down from the workspace. Sometimes it’s the little weird joys that keep us going, right?
These 2025 highlights don’t fix the state of the world, and they don't solve burnout, but for now, they’re enough of a bridge to get me into 2026. See you there, for whatever it brings.