Goodbye 2025

For the past few years, I’ve taken to this website to assemble a series of essays that I feel encapsulate what that year meant to me. In general, they’ve covered a range of topics that don’t always intersect in obvious ways. In my opinion, that is a sign of what a great year looks like: a mind open to a greater sense of discovery and a willingness to delve into new ideas that could help reshape your world. I’m not wishing to say that my recent Snapshot series wasn’t “diverse," but I couldn’t help but feel like it was still a tad redundant in the subtextual department.

I think it became clear when writing the original draft of this that I didn’t so much present a grand conclusion to the year but mostly recounted highlights from those other essays. It was the familiar story of political corruption, the uncertainty for generations ahead, and what it meant to be an artist in a time where everything is rooting against you. I’m not saying those topics aren’t important or even overblown, but I still came to the editing process for the original “Goodbye 2025” and found myself disengaged with what I had to say. It’s not that it wasn’t important, but more that I didn’t think it was the sentiment I wanted to leave the year on.

In short, my conflict with publishing what amounts to sensationalized jargon was that it conflicts with the messaging of this website. Yes, it’s designed to be commentary from my perspective, and I still believe it was faithful to that premise. However, my goal has never been to turn this into an overt politics account. A lot of writing in the past week feels like it was charged by topics that found me veering away from the joyous events of the year and more into the nihilistic viewpoint I don’t want to be associated with. 

It's difficult because the one takeaway I stand by is that 2025 was a terrible year. If judged solely on the larger arc, I’d go so far as to argue it was worse than 2020 solely on the grounds of expectations we had at New Year’s Eve. It’s true that the COVID-19 cases of illnesses and deaths are significantly down, and that has been a minor miracle. However, I look at December 2020 and notice the signs of optimism poking through with the promise of a new presidency and a vaccine rollout. Today, I’ve had to jump hurdles to find better messaging than, “I can’t believe there are three more years of this.” In terms of leadership inspiring confidence in their constituents, this has been an abysmal go of things. Even the Christmas Day message that this may be the last Merry Christmas doesn’t hide how hostile the future may look.

I ask myself how I could possibly find enthusiasm in a society that is led by a man who puts his name everywhere and tears down historic buildings while limiting freedoms for everyone who is not him. This year has been defined by frustration and fear, as much in the contemporary sense and a recognition that this ideology first took root 10 years ago and went from an antagonistic joke to a full-on assault against common sense. Efforts to find the good in the world that is crumbling some of its finest institutions are not easy to reach, and yet… I wanted to find a better narrative to say goodbye with.

This is a year where it’s easy to lose the self in the larger system. For many, that’s a crucial talking point. As someone who lives in Los Angeles County, it has been especially difficult to not have some opinion on the president, going back to his handling of the wildfires. I’m not sure how well it was reported, but on a trip where he talked with local politicians, he insulted a room of people talking diplomatically about the disaster by suggesting they’re not “the party of common sense” and that residents should return to burn areas and turn on their sprinklers. Along with traumatizing A.I. images of the Hollywood sign burning, it was a rough start to the year that only got worse as he sent I.C.E. agents to Home Depots under the false premise of So Cal being a war zone. Despite his antipathy, he also wants to take over The Olympics Committee, which… offends me on a very personal level that I choose not to get into here. It’s bizarre to live in a place where the president openly admits that he hates you and will not provide funding when disaster strikes again.

How does one find themselves in a society that is actively working against your community? While I am grateful to have not lost friends to I.C.E. yet, there’s still that concern that the day is coming. Students have been deported to concentration camps for expressing dissent. How soon until unmarked white vans pull up and kidnap innocent people in the name of patriotism? If nothing else, this renegade approach is bestowing fear and creating a country defined by anxiety and unfulfillment, distracted by culture wars that can’t hide how much effort has not been placed on improving the economy.

It is hard to admit, but life has moved on. Every disaster is followed by another day. Some issues are resolved while others remain in limbo for the time being. At some point, one risks being swallowed whole by the despair and never experiencing the joy that comes with being human. I’m aware this is a bit spoiled to admit, but it’s also the suggestion that a mother in a descending plane cannot put the mask on their child if they don’t have theirs on. The inability to take care of oneself is a sure way to avoid having the strength to make a difference.

Also, not every conflict is as elaborate as fighting the federal system. At some point, we are limited in achieving some greater change. Yes, I do find hope in the symbolism of No Kings marches. There are small ways we can find community and make a difference. Even in the wake of I.C.E. raids, I was able to attend a WNBA game where audience members shared “Melt Ice” signs to thunderous applause. There are signs of people wanting to push back, and I am desperately trying to find that enthusiasm to believe that this will be the thing that makes a difference. 

My saving grace is that I believe there’s more good than bad in the world. My concern is that this has been a year of doubt, and very little has been done to restore the balance. At every turn, the institutions I believed would protect corruption from occurring have proven faulty, and I keep wondering how one goes about restoring order. At this rate, I believe it won’t be done before I’m 50, but the sooner we get cleaning, the sooner we can shine again.

The conflict of 2025 is how much this year has been about looking at bigger pictures and sometimes ignoring your own. Even now, I feel like I’ve overlooked my personal achievements of writing a novel and a baker’s dozen of short stories. It’s been a productive year that’s seen me branch out into hobbies that are less internet-based. I’ve found more pleasure in ditching my phone and just letting the air rustle past my ears as I read outside. I’ve also participated in remodeling my home, which in itself is a reminder that sometimes a new perspective makes a difference. I’ve been less in the know of what hot pop culture stories are out there, and I’m fine with that. I’m aware that’s a trope of being in your late 30s, but in a time where the president seems obligated to be miserable on social media at 2 AM, I think I’ve won simply by having a clairvoyant mind.

I’ve also processed my concern for the future into helping the next. Again, not every change is about the big picture. Sometimes it involves bettering the lives of people you know, where an act of kindness may inspire warmth and vulnerability. Not having those exclusionist walls put up allows for a richer conversation to form, and the welcoming nature also makes the world more interesting. At this point, I think the most radical act that can be done is being a decent person. For me, that includes combating concerns of declining education rates by teaching my nieces fractions and sharing literature that I loved as a child. There’s a need to engage and give those younger than me the world they deserve. In some respects, I believe we’ve failed them, and it’s about time we remedy that.

How does one say goodbye to 2025, a year that I’m sure history books will consider as a colossal backslide? The best we can do is not lose our sense of self. In a world that is constantly rewriting and demolishing history, it’s more important than ever to not lose sight of what matters. Hold the values that matter. Remember the complications of American history and basic human empathy. Care about looking past the artifice and find something that matters. Ideally, the problems of today will be remedied tomorrow, though I am in a current state of doubt. I’m hoping that, like the meaning of the ball dropping, this too shall pass, that something new will be born, and we’ll see a world that I’ve long desired. Every generation deserves better than the last. That involves never losing sight of what matters to you. The weeds may be getting taller, but don’t lose hope. Something is out there waiting for us to find it.