At this time last month, I mentioned that 2025 was one of the worst years of my adult life. I’ve done my best not to use that hyperbole too much, but it did feel like the events made the outcome much worse. Sure, 2020 had a more significant health crisis, but there was ultimately a sense of optimism that concluded the year, giving all of us hope that things could be resolved faster than anyone predicted. Compare that to five years later, where controversy arose by the day, and the most positive thing anyone could say at this point is, “Only three years to go.” It sounds bleak, especially because the institutions that should’ve done anything to temper the impact haven't been working, which, in all honesty, has made it hard to participate in California cure-alls that feel closer to a placebo.
In my heart, I went into New Year’s Eve with the familiar rhetoric that 2026 just had to be better. Everything would settle down, and answers would begin to emerge from the chaos. On the one hand, certain things were better. Southern California didn’t have another catastrophic fire season in January, allowing everybody to self-reflect on the actions that have been taken so far. I’ve felt pride in knowing how the communities have come together to help each other and make a terrible situation easier to overcome. As the federal government pushes exclusionist rhetoric, it’s hard to recognize that people are generally kind and will help you in times of need.
I have to clarify this because so much of my life can get caught up in “the worst” stories that I overlook the good on a local level. It’s easy to fixate on how there have been hundreds of disasters, how this building in Washington D.C. that I’ve only ever seen from afar is at risk of a total facelift. However, there is something to pushing past one’s own anxiety when out in public and noticing the smiling face waving at you. They may do nothing else, but having that reassurance allows for relief. In a time when it feels like the president is actively trying to turn every citizen against each other, it’s important to not buy into the paranoia.
My heart goes out to the people living in Minnesota, facing one of the worst self-inflicted humanitarian crises of this administration. In a month where the United States has bombed Venezuela and started auctioning for Greenland using old-school colonialist talking points, it’s hard to ignore how much worse I.C.E. has been since they visited Los Angeles last June. Having personally lived within walking distance of a raid (in a less significant point, it was surreal to see it depicted on Last Week Tonight the following week), I recognized the fear of being swooped up off the street simply for looking the wrong way. I’ve thought of friends disappearing solely because they fit a profile of what I.C.E. wants for their stupid body count.
I won’t pretend to have an extensive knowledge of the Los Angeles raids for a proper comparison, but I do feel like Minnesota’s run has been closer to a horror show. There’s been a nonstop cavalcade of traumatic moments where children have been used for leverage, unarmed people have been assaulted, and at the time of writing this, there have been two innocent civilian deaths that have led to significant conversation on how heartless the I.C.E. agents are. For as much as I’ve been hesitant to support the actions of Luigi Mangione, I’ve taken some joy in watching Minnesotans do everything to make I.C.E. agents’ time in the state as miserable as possible. To me, it’s cathartic because joining I.C.E. was optional and, in general, has revealed support for harmful ideologies that have become less naked as time marches on. The handling of every disaster has been especially damning, as fatal shootings blame the victim without analysis, proving that figures like our vice president truly don’t care about your well-being.
There’s been a suggestion that tides are turning about support for this type of enforcement. As I said with the No Kings marches last year, I’ll believe it when I see it. This is a great start, and every person who stands up deserves commendation. However, I remember the Blue Wave from years back, where Democrats overwhelmingly won. It got things moving, but they need to keep moving. Change needs to happen, ideally punishing people involved with the same rationality that any lone figure would receive in the position. One can hope, anyway.
To avoid getting stuck in one large soapbox, let me just say that what is going on now has me worried for another major story in my January 2026. A few weeks ago, The Olympics opened up registration for LA28. I’ve been excited about this news since it was first announced and have even been enthusiastic about the chance to experience it with my younger family. While I haven’t bought tickets yet, I’ve done what I could to put in a good word and mentioned that, among my ideal sports, was volleyball. For one, I’m doing everything I can to avoid visiting the epicenter of Los Angeles, where I predict the biggest crowds will take place. I’m fine just visiting Anaheim and hope to see some of my CSULB alumni now competing for Olympic gold. Given that T.J. Defalco previously led Team U.S.A. to a bronze medal, I’m hopeful that I’ll see somebody really cement their legacy. I’ve also put up a word for canoe slalom tickets, which was my favorite discovery of the previous ceremony… and it takes place near Downtown Long Beach!
If there’s any concern, it’s one that has hung over this entire essay so far like a rain cloud. Sometime last year, amid openly saying that he hated California, the president stated interest in wanting to be the head of The Olympic Committee. This news has been one of the more heartbreaking developments on a selfish level because it means that the thing I’ve been anticipating for eons may be ruined by one man’s arrogance, who couldn’t pay tribute to his presidential legacy without depicting his predecessor as an autopen. This isn’t the age of diplomacy. Part of me genuinely fears that it’s going to be nonstop complaints about when other countries win medals while contestants/guests get arrested for no reason, and (practically) cause a lot of boycotts. The insecurity to not allow an Olympic committee to do their professional job is offensive, let alone when it’s done by a man who gets hung up on who is and isn’t allowed to compete in sports.
The good/bad news is that this is roughly two years away. At most, I get to watch Southern California start building the infrastructure that will define the games. I will cease further comment other than I’m hopeful that a lot of my skepticism is just a toxic side effect of having lived through the past decade. I want to believe things will be a lot more mundane than what it’s been, where I can’t enjoy a weekend away from the news without discovering that another shooting has happened. It’s upsetting and, frankly, almost makes me want to recoil just so I can have any goodwill to get through the rest of my week. Hundreds of wonderful athletes deserve their glory. Let’s not make it about somebody who, ironically, complained about men taking women’s trophies before taking a woman's Nobel Peace Prize while, again ironically, threatening war when the transaction proved null and void.
I just want stability in this world. In funnier news, Southern California has substituted wildfires with a very inconsistent weather pattern. In the past 31 days, we’ve had everything from scattered rain to cold temperatures to weather not dissimilar from early summer. This is often all within the same week, making it hard to really plan in advance. As much as I love the personality, part of me wishes it would pick a lane for a while so I can get used to wearing jackets for a little bit (hint).
This has allowed me time to do significant yardwork that I’ve been putting off for a few weeks. In the process, I’ve been trying to find longer albums to put on while pulling weeds and mowing lawns, just to finally engage with longer media. I’m someone who wants to be fully invested when I listen, so it’s caused me to infrequently visit stuff that I’d otherwise like, such as 2.5-hour cast recordings like Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812. With that said, I did find one that fit the mood for a Saturday afternoon.
Full transparency. I am not a big fan of The Smashing Pumpkins. They were prominent in my youth, but that isn’t to say I had a built-in nostalgia. During high school, I listened to “Siamese Dream” and can honestly say that I didn’t get the appeal. Maybe it’s because my production sensibilities lean more towards punk with emphasis on bass, but I didn’t care for the heavy rock and psychedelia that drowned out the things I was interested in. I’m also now only reaching an age where I have gotten into atmospheric soundscapes, so a lot of their lengthy diatribes weren’t scratching any itch of teenage me.
And yet, I put on “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness” in part because I wanted to know what the big deal was. That album cover has been seared in my brain for decades, and there were at least four songs that became radio staples. If I liked any Smashing Pumpkins song, it would be something from here.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, I found myself transfixed by the entire two-hour experience. This could be because I personally love projects that aren’t afraid to be messy, constantly jumping around to different ideas in hopes of finding innovation. I’m not sure that the curation on this fully works, but there is this addictive feeling of just pressing play and going with where Billy Corgan’s imagination took him. Sometimes it’s erratic, and others are quiet and somber pieces that reflect on his aging vulnerability. Like most 90s bands that took off, his ability to blend less accessible genres with pop aesthetics is the real brilliance of the record. I think this lands more often than not, and if nothing gives me so much to think about. I’m now curious to see if “Adore” hits another sweet spot, though I seem to be impulsively just revisiting “Mellon Collie” every time I’m in need of a lengthy soundtrack.
I would also like to give a shoutout to two soundtracks that have already made 2026 a great year for music. Last year’s revival of Ragtime released a cast recording, and I’m here to say that Joshua Henry is the real deal. I haven’t seen him act, but his vocal work is some of the best I’ve heard, and I’m hopeful it will get him some Tony traction. I want to also shoutout Ben Levi Ross, whom I got to see on a tour of Dear Evan Hansen from the second row. I’m happy to see him finally on wax for a Broadway show. If you love this show, this is a fantastic use of your time.
I’m also a big fan of Daniel Blumberg’s work for The Testament of Ann Lee (2025). What I didn’t expect was that this musical would latch onto deep-seated feelings I’ve had about religious hymns. For as conflicting as the ideologies are, Mona Fastvold does an incredible job of capturing the power of song and dance. The harmonies are among the most beautiful I’ve heard in the last year. Also, to keep this brief, Amanda Seyfried gives one hell of a performance that ranks among her best work. I recognize this is one of the more beguiling movies currently in theaters, but I think it lands the intensity of its emotions very well thanks to a genuine respect Fastvold and crew have for Ann Lee’s journey.
Am I upset that it didn’t receive any Oscar nominations? Sure. But as someone who covered the race for nine years, I am familiar with the ups and downs of awards season, and The Testament of Ann Lee had the hallmarks of a film too niche to make the cut. I had personally believed that Bugonia (2025) was also going to be on that list, but I was pleasantly surprised. Still, that is the joy of going to a movie theater. You get to read the room and determine how people really feel. I remember walking out of Wonderstruck (2017) and knowing just by its dismal theatrical distribution that it wasn’t going to have any prominence. Even now, I feel like Fastvold’s latest is too little too late, if generous, but also too isolating if I’m being honest.
The films that made the cut continue to astound me, if just because it feels like the definition of a Best Picture race has come a long way in just a decade. I couldn’t imagine something like Sinners (2025) leading nominations in a time before The Shape of Water (2017). I’m also beyond impressed that we are looking at Paul Thomas Anderson finally having a front-runner status. Even if I am largely indifferent to One Battle After Another (2025) and think it feels covered in studio notes, there is something valuable about having films this contemporary that are visceral and capture the moment. Sure, I think Bugonia did it better. I would even argue that Marty Supreme (2025) is symbolically more effective at communicating America’s narcissistic drive, but a story that can’t help but remind me of I.C.E. agents raiding California seems like an apt thing to reward.
While I’m on the subject, I want to briefly mention how ecstatic I am to know that Marty Supreme is in the race. This is less because it’s a great movie, but more because it confirms that a new age of filmmaking is upon us. Following Anora (2023) and Sean Baker’s D.I.Y. approach, it’s nice to see Josh Safdie get a lot of attention for a towering achievement. I guess it’s because this feels like the practical evolution of mumblecore, where it becomes something more complex and artful, capturing ideas from elsewhere until it’s a singular vision. Not only that, but I remain floored that almost everyone involved with the Mary Bronstein cult film Yeast (2008) has now produced an Oscar-nominated film. For a long time, I thought it would only be Greta Gerwig, but I’m happy to see the love expanding. I pray this isn’t a short-lived phenomenon.
Also, quick shoutout to Best Animated Short nominee Jeremy Spears. He is a graduate of Cal State Long Beach, who was there many years before I ever set foot on campus, and I’m very much looking forward to checking out Forevergreen. I suppose it goes without saying, but hooray for Steven Spielberg as well. I know you just released a movie about how great your life was after you dropped out of CSULB, but I think you’ve made up for it.
Though speaking of Long Beach, I have a few stories. To start on a tangent, we officially have a baseball team! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome The Regulators! I hope they have success and build hometown pride. I’m still holding out hope that grand slams have a ritual of a Snoop Dogg sample saying, “put it in the air!” as the audience cheers. Given that we almost got MLB’s team The Angels, at one point, it’s nice to know we’ll have something more permanent.
On a more important note… it’s volleyball season again! On top of the fun games over at League One Volleyball, the NCAA division is heating up and bringing with it a fight for top dog status. When we last left CSULB, they had won nationals with one season phenom Moni Nikolov setting ace records. With that said, it was a senior-heavy year, meaning we lost a lot of people. Nikolov is playing professionally in Bulgaria now, and I have to wonder if number two UCLA just has more in the tank than we do. I’m planning to be at The Game of the Year™, so I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.
But for now, some concerns have been quelled. Despite not playing too many heavy-hitters, they have started the season on a winning streak. I’ve been to two games and watched the camaraderie on the sidelines. It’s a wonderful time and will likely only be more intense as the student section gets involved. I’m waiting for some serious competition to emerge, but I do love seeing the team this locked in from the jump, proving my skepticism wrong as they reflect a dominance that they’ve always been known for. Given that it’s also the first year without Coach Alan Knipe, who was involved with every national winning season, it’s a great unknown. I will stand by my man as they say, but I’m also hesitant about it being as flawless.
To start winding down, I suppose that I should highlight what I’m anticipating for 2026. I know that I started on a sour note, but let me clarify that a lot of that was from the perspective of a public standing. In my personal life, 2025 was a very productive year, and I found myself looking for new ways forward. I’m hoping to keep that energy going in the months ahead. In my opinion, one of the most important things for me to hold onto as I continue through the back half of my 30s is to be curious and open-minded. I look at figures like the president and see someone who has lost that spark, and it’s tragic to watch on a daily basis. I want to be open to exploring new ideas and welcome the next generation as the new innovators they could be. I’m not saying that I have to like any of it, but I want to understand.
I’m also currently working on projects that will hopefully reveal themselves in time. For now, the big one is my next novel. As usual, I label it as Novel4 until a real name emerges. I’m not comfortable sharing any details at this point, but January has been about filling in the cracks of the outline and starting to build a more concrete universe. While I’m a bit behind my perceived schedule, I look at the staggered pacing of “Lava Lamp” and notice the value of taking my time, especially given that the current release date is TBD 2028-2029. I have time. I have time.
While there hasn’t been any significant development with it, I’m also planning to release a short story collection sometime before the year is out. I’m looking at finding 15-20 stories I’ve written in the past five years and ordering them in a style that I see fit. I also have a new story about visiting an art gallery that’s more antagonistic than realistic, but you’ll have to buy the book to know what I’m talking about. I’m curious to know how it will land, especially as it’ll be much less farcical and sporadic than “Esoteric Shapes” ended up being. Then again, I feel like my writing has grown less “irritable” since 2020, so fingers crossed it goes over well.
Sometimes it’s amazing to think about how a legacy is built. For as much as my success rate isn’t entirely there, I look at my overwhelming portfolio and notice the value of chronicling my evolution. Sometimes I’ll look back and prove myself wrong. I’ll think my writing was worse only to realize I had the instinct a decade ago. It’s not often, but I will read the older work and find myself laughing at jokes that I’m not sure other people find funny. I’m hopeful this next collection will keep that spirit alive.
The only thing I will say from there is that my next short story collection after this one will be more in tandem with Novel4 and center around the New Year’s Eve pieces. I’m not sure that they’re all good, but to me, they’re the perfect thematic embodiment of how I felt during that time, and I want to see how it works as a collective experiment.
But, before the month is out, there is one last thing to anticipate. At the time of publication, I spent Thursday night going to see the musical version of The Notebook. Much like tweens in the mid-2000s, there’s this feeling of needing to overcompensate my defense, but I love the music from the cast recording. It’s been a while since a show this overly emotional has made the rounds, and I think it’s very successful at conveying that experience. I’m hopeful that the show will have more poignancy, especially with how it navigates timelines and uses the recurring motifs. In general, I am not a sucker for Nicholas Sparks’ style, but The Notebook (2004) remains one of those cultural touchstones that doesn’t escape my affection. I may even buy the $5 tissue box just to have a souvenir.
Otherwise, life is just peachy. I’m taking advantage of the decent weather and trying to spend more time away from things that could be seen as constraining. While imperfect, I’ve tried to avoid social media until the afternoon, doing my best to not be overtaken by tragic stories until I’ve had one or two accomplishments to compare it to. Obviously, that’s easier said than done, but I am genuinely in the camp that stepping away can be a good thing. Sure, it means that I don’t understand the origin of that Jane Wickline bit about collecting buttons (which is amazing, by the way), but there’s value in everyone not having the same memories. It’s important to make your own. There’s a lot I don’t share with you. I hope you’re doing the same.
But until then, I’m going to welcome February by buying another bag of conversation hearts (which are my favorite candy, by the way). I’ll do what I can to get through Super Bowl Sunday without going crazy. I don’t know much about Bad Bunny’s music, but he’s my favorite part of Happy Gilmore 2 (2025). I probably should be more curious about Latin music, especially since Rosalia’s “Lux” is on another level transcendent. However, I’ll probably just watch and realize that it’s arguably the only thing at the game that won’t give me brain damage.
That may be it. I’m not sure I have much to say. I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing as much on here during January. I think my “hiatus” came with too much of a break in routine to desire writing a bunch of essays every week. I’m trying to get back into the swing of things. Hopefully, next month will go a little bit better. Then again, I’ve felt that way about a lot of life lately. There’s been plenty to give me optimism, but I also realize that you can only ever feel happy about things within your control. As Hidden Brain taught me: pain is inevitable, misery is not. You can choose to wallow in your shortcomings, or alter your perceptions. I’m not saying that in some stupid manosphere way. It’s something deeper than that. I promise.
I hope this month has found you well and that February is full of wonderful expectations. I know it’s a chaotic time that doesn’t fully make sense. The disappointment is insurmountable, and I don’t fault anyone who is taking it hard. I’m just hoping we find a healthy way to cope. Make a difference where you can, even if it’s just bettering your relationship with family or friends. Do something to make this time matter. I promise it’ll matter one day. So until then, take care of yourself, and I’ll talk with you soon.
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