a quick stream of consciousness: it’s a new year. things are not magically different and we are still up against a global pandemic, white supremacy, late stage capitalism and all of the things but it’s nice to have a fresh page to look at. 2020 was important, it was difficult, painful, beautiful, lifetaking, lifegiving. and we are not the same that we were a year ago. time is strange because we have to put it into little measurable chapters to keep the world running but that’s all it really is, little arbitrary boxes that a pope named gregory made up a long time ago. still we need the little boxes. i’m excited to be in a new box, this one labeled 2021. but i also know a new box doesn’t change everything (maybe anything). we’ve experienced so much private, slow change this year, it’s almost unsettling to have a big public change happen (the mere increase of a number) and be expected to notice. where was the ball drop for every little change we lived through this year? how can we act like anything has changed when everything already had? hello fresh box, i am glad to meet you. i enter with new wisdom, old hope and a dash of grim determination just in case. 

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