Wow, December again so soon?

Time always slips from my grasp, even though I find myself claiming I have so much of it. But it's December again, and soon I will be back, curled up in the living room armchair with a glass of Martinelli's, welcoming in the new year three hours early with the NYC ball drop.

But so much has happened for me to arrive there in that position again. The shell I had metaphorically shut myself into, my own prison, is now crumbled on the floor. This year I was like a chick in the midst of cracking open its shell. A struggle… then a breath of fresh air.

That fresh air was accompanied with the stress of growing up. The fear late at night that success is unobtainable. And even though some of my hopes of someone stumbling into my life were not fulfilled, I have learned to feel fulfilled with myself instead of searching for that satisfaction in others.

2025 was a good year for many things. Film. Books. Personal growth. My new-found love for K-Pop. I am hoping that 2026 will be even better. Best wishes.

Disclaimer:
I am not a pretentious fool.
I know my worth.
I am not going to write about
How the spirit of the people who built this country
Sways with the wind in our flag!!!!11!!!!1!!

No.
Cuz they didn't build this country.
At least, not for the most part.
We seem too often to forget the sacrifices
Of those with a little more melanin
Or a little less money
Than us.

At the risk of repeating myself,
I am not a pretentious fool.
I am not going to write
About the white men
Building this country now.
Cuz they're not, but

My mom is,
With her kindness
Which she channels into her work
And her food.

My dad is,
With his strength
Which he channels into his carpentry
And his love for all of us.

My brother is,
With his life
And his liberty
And his pursuit of happiness

And all their spreading of it.

I am not a pretentious fool.
I don't tend to prescribe definitions to people.
But when I see
My mother laying spices out to dry
My dad sawing away at a plank of wood (walnut, he says)
My brother excited because his hard work payed off
Their hands glow red, white, and blue.

So when I see the men on TV
Preaching their hate crimes like gospel
All I see
Is the crimson red
Staining their soft hands.

Tonight, stars are falling,

Over Chicago, New England, Texas,

From angry east to angry west,

Dark cars: hearses that we don't call hearses

Roll silently towards lively, warm houses,

And as they roll away,

The stars fall away,

And the sky is black

People, bright spots! 

Crowd the streets! Block the hearse! 

Populate the dark earth, so that our reflection in the night sky

Will be twice as bright as any stars ever could be.