sometimes i think gravity is a pity

In March 2022, I wrote in my journal that "nothing seems worth remembering," and it's true that I didn't do much remembering this year. Between buying a new car after my accident, catching Covid, Oliver's kidney diagnosis, the giant blackhole of summer camps, turning 32, moving offices (again), starting a new job (again), learning I'm laughably vitamin deficient, demoralizing results at work, and the rest of the misery soup I've been floating in, recording anything ~for posterity~ felt pretty pointless. In many ways, it still feels pointless, but I've done a bit of last-minute introspection to help me leave 2022 with a better sense of what the fuck happened, and I was surprised by what I realized.

With the help of The Gentle Tarot deck, I did a seven-card reading on the year past and the year to come. I was a bit skeptical at first, because it was the most positive spread I've ever drawn, and I had no idea how it was going to apply to my life. Turns out, things are A Little Bit Good, Maybe.

( CUE LAST-MINUTE INSTROSPECTION )

One thing that brought me marked levels of joy and frustration this past year (as opposed to general flat malaise) was the reading goal I set for myself. I went in with the idea to try to read 52 books this year, knowing that I almost certainly would not achieve it. I wanted to see how close I could get, and it turns out, I read a lot of books and only liked a few of them. Which is a useful reminder for next year's goal that quality over quantity often holds true.

I'm posting the list, organized by how much I enjoyed the books, but without much commentary. Partly because (see above) I can barely remember anything that happened this year. Partly because it feels unnecessary. If you want to hear more or talk about any of these, feel free to ask!

( 2022 BOOK LIST )

Anyway, thanks for bearing with me! That's a wrap on 2022~