Ins, Outs, and Uncomfortable In-Betweens

Thoughts on heartbreak, Salem the Cat, and the magic of a good friend

I have never been one for New Year’s resolutions, but I guess being a changeable person is the whole point.

I feel as though the world is turning around me and I am sitting still. No matter what I do, time keeps going and tomorrow keeps turning into today and today keeps turning into yesterday and part of me takes comfort in the fact that there’s nothing I have to do to propel time forward. When I lay in bed and do my mental checklist of the things that need to be done before I can sleep (take your medicine, brush your teeth, wash your face, do the chiropractor exercises that you’re not sure are doing anything), I take solace in the fact that even if I do none of these things, I will still wake up and it will be tomorrow. And tomorrow must be better than today because today sucks. Today I am grieving, my feet hurt, my car needs gas and I can’t seem to belly laugh, not even when my funniest coworker tells me about Reggie Watts’ cover of “Panama”. Every year, we go to bed on December 31st and take immense comfort in (and/or feel petrified by) the fact that even if we don’t wash our makeup off, next year will soon be today. We make lists: “ins” that we will take with us into the new year and “outs” that we will try our best to leave behind. Maybe we share them, unsure if we are offering them as advice or as a warning to those who uphold our “outs”. I love New Years because of the possibility it represents of a year full of reinvention and hope, and hate New Years because what if my plans aren’t sufficiently sexy and glamorous and the Instagram stories of the hottest girl in my junior year PoliSci seminar popping champagne on an East Village rooftop feels like a dull smack against my chest, knocking the wind out of me? Today, I am thinking about the former: a year full of possibility and the enrichment of new and old loves. Although I don’t know if I’m sharing them as advice or as a boundary, without further ado, my 2024 Ins and Outs.

In: heartbreak.

2023 started with a heartbreak that I truly thought might kill me. Now, I smile as I write that, not because there was anything silly about how earth-shattering that pain felt when I was in it, but because I am sitting here, writing this: it didn’t kill me. Heartbreak taught me that friendship can be that sweeping, climactic, life-affirming Great Love that we cut ourselves off at the knees by only looking for in romance. I learned that, to a good friend, your pain is not an imposition. I am not hoping for a heartbreak in 2024, but I like the concept: of being burned down by something and building something new, tougher, smarter, and braver out of the ashes. Plus, now my ex sometimes reads my Substack, and growing your audience is everything.

In: Salem the cat from Sabrina the Teenage Witch.

Salem is in every year. In the original 90s series, Salem is Sabrina’s unbelievably cunty familiar. He is a warlord who was convicted of scheming world domination and whose punishment is to live in the body of a cat. There is less to say about this one than that heavy opener, but I want to see him assume his rightful place in the cultural zeitgeist this year and I think it warrants the number-2 place on my list.

Out: being apolitical.

I would rather you believe something I find ridiculous than choose to believe nothing at all because your uncle told you that the system is broken and all politicians are equally bad and there is no point in engaging in any of it. The system is broken, most politicians are bad, and these are reasons to BE political. There is immense privilege in feeling comfortable leaving these matters in the hands of others because you don’t feel that it concerns you. This isn’t about people who aren’t caught up on current events or don’t like discussing them, that is none of my business. But when people choose not to engage in politics or educate themselves at all because they feel a.) above it all and/or b.) privileged enough that their rights aren’t under fire anyway, so they’re not too worried it, that pisses me off and lands firmly among my Outs.

In: caring a lot and trying hard.

I will not dispute that effortlessness is very cool. Applying messy red lipstick, tousling your hair, showing up late, and not falling asleep that night deeply nauseous about the possibility that everyone is mad at you about it: this is a cool, sexy, unbothered life. In 2024, this is far from the only way to be cool, and villainizing effort is soooo 2023. Caring about things and wanting to do a good job is awesome, and people who aren’t afraid to be passionate about the things that they value and to be seen breaking a sweat doing good work probably live longer than the people who are too afraid to fail so they just make fun of the people foolish enough to try. 

In: roommates.

I know that living alone is viewed as some sign of maturity and having your life together, but for me, success is sharing a kitchen with people who make me laugh until my stomach hurts (in a good way, for once).

In: crying.

The idea for this post came from a conversation where I was telling a great friend something I love about her and started to cry, overwhelmed by my luck to know someone like her and how nice it was to find the words to articulate the very specific admiration I have for her. I apologized, like we do when we feel a feeling too loudly or visibly, and my friend Anna put her hand over my hand and said “In: crying when you talk about your friends because you love them so much”. May 2024 be full of feelings that are too big for us to know quite what to do with and people who tell us that the depth of our love does not make us too much.

Out: vodka, because it is bad.

In: tequila, because it is splendid.

In: run-on sentences.

Out: the death of print journalism.

In: subscribing to Goose Gabs.