“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language. And next year’s words await another voice.” — T.S. Eliot.
A few days ago, I saw one of my favorite comedians, Juston McKinney. He does a year-in-review show, and it was hilarious. At this time of year, everyone is thinking about what the past 12 months brought us and wondering how the next year will unfold. I thought about writing one of those updates like some of my friends put in their Christmas cards, but honestly, it didn’t seem like I’d accomplished much this year. Stayed employed, check. Stayed healthy, check. I took a lovely vacation and spent some time with friends, but I can’t imagine anyone is interested in a long update about my family, the dog, and what I thought about the food on the Queen Mary 2.
I got to thinking, though, since I don’t do Christmas cards if someone looked at my social media posts for the year, what would they think? It’s not that I care much about what people think, but I probably should be aware of what I put out in the world to avoid giving the wrong impression. Based on some posts from last year on my Facebook, this is probably what people think.
I’m a failed arsonist. Not once have I started a fire on purpose, like in the fireplace or outside around a firepit. However, several minor fire-adjacent incidents have occurred at my house and not just during this year. There seems to be a pattern involving cooking and things catching fire, but this year, I outdid myself, setting fire to some noodles while they were in a pot of boiling water.
I might be a cat. No, not because I wear furry clothes and drink milk from a saucer, but because I seem to have nine lives. I’ve already beaten cancer, but in 2024, I was walking along a flat, well-lit area and tripped over nothing but air. But wait, there’s more; throughout the year, I burned myself, got hit in the eye with a badminton bird, and nearly sliced off a finger, which needed four stitches. A horde of rogue wasps built a nest in my shed and tried to kill me, and I tripped over the dog and bashed my elbow so hard I saw stars. Oh, and I fell off a sailboat. To be fair, though, I was also in a car accident that could have been bad, but I didn’t get hurt.
I’m an oversharer. This is true: guilty as charged. I tend to use social media as a journal of sorts so I can look back at the mundane and the milestones. Perhaps it’s a self-esteem issue, but I did post pictures and updates every time I cleaned a closet or organized a cabinet. None of this was newsworthy, but did that stop me? No. It’s an accountability thing— if I need motivation, just looking back at the posts convinces me that I can do it. I am, however, very proud of the fact that I refrained from sharing some other moments that didn’t show the best side of me. That’s a truism of social media. No one posts their blooper reel; they post their highlight reel.
I don’t make formal resolutions, but rather, I make intentions. I decide on a few very vague concepts that I want to take into the new year, and then I try to apply them when and where I can. This year, I want to be more about gratitude and less about ranting like a cranky squirrel. At this time next year, maybe my social media year in review will include fewer accidents, small fires, and overshares.
A new year does require different words than the ones we’ve already said, and different voices can make a conversation better, so Happy New Year to all. To the year past, the year ahead, and all the best of times, let’s raise a glass to hanging in there for another trip around the sun.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.