Fistfuls of Good: Q2 Check-In on 2023 Goals
I’m almost nervous to write this goals update because my life feels like it is going so well that I wonder if, by subjecting myself to this ritualized review, I’ll find the cracks in it.
I think about taking the “almost” out of that line before I realize it’s necessary.
I’m not actually nervous.
Being nervous is one of my starting conditions. Your computer boots up and asks you for your password, and I open my eyes and ask myself what I have to do that day and what could go wrong.
And yet lately, that’s not been true. I’m getting better at living in the present moment. At twisting the cap off a new day and letting the anxiety hiss out like carbon dioxide. I’ve been getting better at this for years — years of travel and living abroad and writing my goals down on the internet, of making the pilgrimage back to them once a quarter — and especially so these last three months.
This quarter has taught me to accept the goodness when it comes and not think too much about how long it’ll be there.
I want to tell that to Tennesee Williams, want to shake his shoulders when I see, browsing Twitter, a quote from him about the fleeting nature of joy: “I have been very happy lately, just wallowing in it selfishly, knowing it will not last very long, which is all the more reason to enjoy it now. I suppose life always ends badly for almost everybody. We must have long fingers and catch at whatever we can while it is passing near us.” You’re probably right, Tennessee, but why lose even a minute thinking of its end? What if it does last? What then?
I’ve just come from therapy. I brought my little black book filled with questions, observations, and timely lists of personal traits to work on and interpersonal situations to navigate, to work through them with my therapist across her pale, wide desk. We’ve done this every couple of weeks for the last year. Neither of us recognized that this week was our anniversary until I referenced the place I was in a little over a year ago when I wrote her and asked if she was seeing new patients. I remember taking our July 2022 introduction call from the red-walled vestibule of a Santander bank, turning into the corner when the tears came, hoping the Spanish woman draped in linen punching away at the ATM didn’t notice.
This afternoon, sitting across from my therapist — a Spanish woman I regularly cry in front of — I felt calm. We talked about knowing how to trust my body. About how good it feels to not be hiding parts of myself, or convincing myself I want things other than the things I actually want. We talked about feeling things deeply and learning to laugh at some of the anger and the overwhelm that can come with that. We talked about love.
I’m coming to the page to do another kind of mark-to-market. Not a reflection about a year back in therapy, but about three months back in my body, back in my brain, back in my life.
I’m sat in a quiet conference room at my coworking space, where three of the walls are pure white and one is white topped by a thick, purposeful border of unvarnished, taupe-streaked concrete. The tiles on the floor are blue and orange with blooming patches of faux-patina gray.
This place is new but pretends not to be, with these nods to what it might look like if time was allowed to carry out its work.
I am not new and I am not pretending to be. The marks time have left on me are present and accounted for. Visible in this very blog’s back posts.
I have never been good at pretending to be anything other than what I am. And right now, that person is someone who is grabbing fistfuls of good and holding them close, then scattering them loose over everyone and everything she loves.
Cherish my existing community and invest in new ones; love well and be well loved.
1. Continue to find community in Valencia. Part of living in a country I’m not from means befriending other outsiders. Part of being an outsider is leaving. My Valencia social circle has changed more than I’d imagined it would when I started. (More than my Buenos Aires circle did in a year, for sure.) I accept that now. I want to hug my people close and stay open to meeting new ones. How? Throw and attend goodbye parties. Be generous with my friends and listen to my instincts when I find people I click with. Plan things. Attend things. Spend a night a week in community.
A win. I love the people I love and I love welcoming new people over that threshold. I love feeling like I belong, in classes and at dinners and in friend groups. I also, though, feel better than I have in a while about belonging on my own, and learning how to balance time in community and time in solitude will be a focus area for the rest of this year.
2. Stay close with my people. Bringing together some of my all-time favorites for my birthday last year was soul-changingly fulfilling. I want to keep that energy, even when international reencuentros aren’t in the cards. How? Invest time in regular catch-ups and phone calls and video chats. Travel to see Miss Brin. Travel with and to my sister. See my aunt and my grandma. Make it to at least one big friend wedding in the States. See The Light Brigade for our retreat. Visit Cam and Camilla in London. Visit Jigs in Milan. Visit New York babies.
A win. I’ll get to see Marta three times this year. I’ll see Brinley and family members, and I’ll get to celebrate Ailie with all of our beautiful college friends at her wedding. Distance isn’t insurmountable and trips are always worth it, which is a good thing for me to remind myself of when I’m feeling dread about booking expensive flights and then dragging my body through their long hours.
3. Be a good host. I loved having so many people come visit in 2022, and I want to keep the threshold propped open for the next 12 months to come. I want to be the host I felt lucky to find in my travels. I want to bring people who visit into this home that I love in this city that I love and wrap them up in care. And for people who share my city, I want them to come for breakfasts and baking dates and feel at home in my space. How? Keep my house and take care of it. Invest in things that matter to me: art, a stocked pantry, a Rolodex of all breakfast deals within a 20-minute walk. Welcome the people I know are coming (Tracey! Gabi! DZ! Dani! Katie?) and those who will.
Another quarter, another glorious win. In Q2 we saw Tracey, Sasha, and Michael occupy my guest room for laugh-filled weeks at a time. I love living alone but there’s nothing as sweet as sharing my space with my favorite humans. Going for croissants and coffee in the morning. Bringing them as my dates to tapas team and book club and birthday parties. Calling goodnight to each other before crawling into our respective beds and getting to do it all again the next day. And my house is feeling more like mine by the day: new books I’ve brought back from travels, new dishes I’ve formed with my own hands, new candles and blankets and art that feel exactly like me. I love having a home and I love getting to welcome my favorite people into it.
4. Build a stronger literary community. My writers’ group gives me support and accountability and no shortage of book recommendations. And I have book clubs in English and in Spanish I love. I want to keep those communities up and running, but I want to expand into a broader literary community, too. How? I want to start working with some kind of publishing enterprise again — being a reader for a journal, or planning a festival, or participating in some kind of English-language project here in Spain.
This is a maybe. I have kept up my existing reading / writing groups, and I have participated — albeit more sporadically than I’d like — in a summer-long creative writing workshop, through which I’ve met several other writers, though I don’t think I can yet call us friends. I haven’t done more to formally join a literary community, though I’ve gone to readings and events at three of my favorite bookstores in Valencia. So a maybe.
5. Be in love. I debated if this belonged on this list at all, and if it did, if it belonged here. But I believe in wanting things — in articulating needs and desires, in tacking a route towards them. I have never not been grateful for love, even if the me of five months ago would’ve struck a big red line through that sentence. “I live my life in widening circles /that reach out across the world. /I may not complete this last one /but I will give myself to it.” (Rilke.) How? Be open. Be communicative. Be experimental.
Hi, Laura, who I know will read this and then text me afterward! This goal is a win. I am in love. And I am in like. And I am wanting, wanting, wanting. It’s buzzy and warm and wonderful. Safe and sacred. And when I look back on the last three months, I can see it build, as inevitable as summer stretching out the days. I remember Jigs telling me in May, “Sounds like you’ll be in love in a few months.” I called her, today, in July, and told her she was right.
Make things.
6. Write regularly. I’ve tried for years to be prescriptive about how my writing should happen: morning pages, daily half-hours, long Sunday afternoons. I’m not saying any of that in 2023. How, then? Write six short stories and six essays I’m proud of. Length to be determined; subject matter, too. But I will write and I will finish things.
This is a win! I’m writing. This quarter, I wrote one essay and five flash fiction stories, which I think I’ll count as two stories total, partially because that makes sense re: average word count and that’s how many of them I think are ready for publication. That puts us almost at the complete short story goal (five of six) and chugging towards the essays (two of six).
7. Craft regularly. Craft is making. It is tactile and explorative and fun — and all of those things more than art is. I want to practice crafts I know I enjoy, like ceramics and cooking, and also try a few new ones. How? Keep up with once-weekly ceramics class and make and gift many beautiful, satisfyingly-hewn things. Take Sunday art classes whenever I can. Try a new craft (jewelry making, sewing, cooking class) at least twice.
Big win. Ceramics is the best. This quarter, I’ve worked on my first series: first, a set of bowls that are meant to be the same size and shape (and nearly are, with the exception of an inch or two of lip when I chipped one of the bowls off the wheel while trimming it, resulting in me having a liiiiiiittle, tiny mental breakdown and my teacher gently pushing me out of the way and sitting down at my stool to show me how to wear down the rest of the bowl, with water and a sponge and centrifugal force and patience, until the chip was entirely erased; sometimes ceramics is so much like therapy that I wonder if my teacher and my therapist are in cahoots). Second, three amphora, each slightly different but each with the same shape: narrow, then wide, then capped in a wide neck and braced with handles, holdable and useable and beautiful, too. I’ve gone to Sunday art class once, but otherwise haven’t been able to make it work with my schedule, and haven’t done new crafts, but am content exploring my making and crafting through just ceramics right now.
8. Host events. I debated whether this went in community or making or business (should I make money from these one day??), but it feels like it belongs thoroughly here. What I like most about having events is the full sensory leap of them: the theme, the decor, the food, the atmosphere, ready to be drawn up and played out. The making, and then the experiencing of what was made. How? I’d like to host something once a month: a dinner party; a games night; a party-party.
Yes — a win. Book exchange picnic, birthday dinners, Sunday Tea, San Juan. A veritable all-star class of gatherings and experiences. July has been a slower season, but we’ll get to that in our Q3 update, and (famously) my birthday will technically fall in Q3, which will hold its fair share of event-hosting-shine.
Take care of my body and brain; live in the present with them whenever possible.
9. Move my body regularly. How? Work out at least thrice a week. Walk as much as I can. Hit my favorite life metric: 10,000 steps.
This is a win. With volleyball and the gym, I work out at least three — oftentimes five or six — times a week. I haven’t been running lately, partly because it’s so hot and partly because I’m not waking up with anxiety in my throat pushing me out to do laps of the Turia. And technically I haven’t been hitting 10,000 steps, either. I feel fine about it.
10. Appreciate and care for my brain. How? Keep going to therapy. Use what I learn there. Go to psychiatry for as long as I need to. Spend time alone when needed, and with people when needed.
I think I’m going to count this as a win, because I wrote it the way I did. I still go to therapy (see intro paragraph) and I still use what I learn there. I haven’t gone to psychiatry since last year. I’m not fearful of my own company and I’m really proud of that; I love solo time and community time in equal measure.
11. Be outside — especially in water — whenever possible. Not going to recommit to my first-year-in-Valencia goal of getting in the ocean every month, though if it happens I’ll be happy. And as we learned in Bariloche, I like hiking fine, but it’s not a passion. I just want to be in and around nature: parks, beaches, water, gardens. How? Spend some part of most days outside.
This is a win, especially for last quarter. (For this quarter, see, once again, the heat index.) I’ve seen new-to-me calas and visited my favorite stretches of beach. I’ve laid many a blanket on many a patch of grass. I’ve visited new countries (The Netherlands, Greece, Bulgaria) and spent time seeing their natural highlights as well as their national cuisines. We love the outside.
Create future optionality.
12. Make enough money and save some of it. This is the first year in four years I don’t want to double my income. For one, I need less to live well in Spain than I did in New York, and for two, I’m taking Laura’s advice about ignoring the siren’s call of the hedonistic treadmill (the ingrained sense of “more is better”). In fact, I would like to halve how much I make. How? I’d like my business to gross $110,000 this year, and to save half of my profits, including in retirement accounts.
This is still a fail. So perhaps a win for avoiding the hedonistic treadmill? But no, I wanted to make and save some money this year, and to set myself up for future goals (a house?) by doing it. Instead, I’m working enough to cover my Wants and Needs but not more than that. Some of that is the economy. Some of that is my explicit prioritization to learn more and charge less. I would like a magic $40,000 to find its way to me this year, but even if it doesn’t, I feel fine about failing this goal.
13. Formalize my forays into writing. How? I want to publish three essays and three short stories in external outlets.
A maybe, because we’re now over halfway through the year and I’m not halfway through this goal. (Two publications, and I’d’ve liked to be at four.) But! I’m submitting and that feels great. This quarter alone, I sent in 22 submissions to different literary magazines and journals, mostly stories but a few essays, too. So far they’ve only gotten rejections, but I’m getting tiered rejections (aka when they say “We’re not taking this piece, BUT we really liked X thing about it, please submit again”) from some of my favorite places. And I’m going to keep going! So still hopeful about converting this to a win later down the line.
14. Finish a longer-term project. This is a goal from last year that I’m hoping my upcoming writers’ retreat lets me make real headway on. How? Finish a script or a book proposal or a story collection.
Probably still a maybe. I did the calc the other week: I have written 30,000 words of material I have yet to publish anywhere. A word count range for fiction is 60,000-90,000 words/book. So…I have written half a book? Obviously not in that way, that it’s publishable or that it even all hangs together. But it feels good to be amassing work, to be revisiting it and editing it, to be seeing the themes and linkages between it. I’m excited about what continuously moving towards this goal looks like, buuuuuut I also don’t think it’s a win unless I actually write a book proposal (unlikely) or a novel draft (somehow feels … less unlikely, and what’s up with that??).
15. Renew my Spanish visa. I want to be able to keep living here legally. How? Successfully navigate this process in March.
A win! I didn’t get my new official documents until Q3 but we’ll count this as a big, fat, juicy, Spanish win. I have secured my legal residency until 2025. I’m really proud of myself and really excited to have the privilege to keep living this life.
Learn.
16. Do harder things in my business. How? Take on a few bigger-picture, white-space consulting projects, even if that means cutting some content or copy projects.
This is a win, and is playing out how I wanted it to at the beginning of the year. I’m working on one new big content project in Q3, and have continued working with my longest retainer client throughout the year, but otherwise have been focused on an in-depth consulting project that is as new as it is rewarding. I love learning new things, I love getting to work across responsibility areas, and most of all I love working with a team. My business isn’t going to reach the financial high-water mark set in 2022 but I’m finding the work much more interesting, so I’m glad to reflect that in this goal.
17. Get better at Spanish. How? At some point in 2023, take a class and pass a C2 exam. Get certified by the government as being proficient. (On a daily level, keep Spanish friends and read Spanish books, of course.)
Still a maybe, because I am getting better, I think (my vocab is improving the more books I read; who could’ve guessed), but I’m not taking a class and I haven’t passed an exam. Maybe I’ll look into doing that in the fall.
18. Stick with volleyball. How? Stay in class twice a week. Do at least four tournaments. Make the podium in one of them.
This is a win even though the podium thing hasn’t happened (yet). Will happily convert it to a maybe later this year if need be. I’ve played in three tournaments so far, with another coming up later this month. I love volleyball.
Consume beautiful things.
19. Read and love books. My relationship with books is maybe the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. How? A favorite annual goal, I will read four books each month, at least one of which isn’t fiction. I’ll keep a log of what I read and share my favorites.
A big, big win. I’ve filled up a bookshelf for the first time in years. Years and years and years. I am reading paper books — ones picked up in London and Milan and in Paris and Valencia, ones adopted from friends who were moving out or gifted from friends who were visiting — and I’m also, as always, reading digitally on my phone (thank you Aunt Carrie for the life hack that has most changed my life!). I’ve read an average of 6 books/month this quarter, with memoirs and one essay collection rounding out all the novels. I think next year I may try to focus on reading (1) more international authors and (2) more backlist (i.e. books published before 2018). But still quite happy with how this is going.
20. Eat and love food. I could fulfill this with a long Michelin-sponsored road trip or with a copy of Deb Perelman cookbook (hi loved ones, feel free to give me this) or with the continuation of my now-permanent Spanish breakfast habit (thank you Em and Carol!!). The how doesn’t matter here. I will do it most days and in many ways.
Giant win. We’ve had plates and plates of tostadas con tomate, served with steaming cortados and unopened packs of Valiente sugar. We’ve gone to Bulgaria and Greece and then Greece again, piling plates high with feta and tomatoes; we’ve scraped paella pans clean and we’ve made rice in our own home, toasting turmeric until the whole house smelled warm and earthy. I’ve cooked and eaten with pleasure and appreciation, and it feels great to have this part of me so fully, thoroughly back.
Breaking the scrying glass, just a liiiiiittle bit
I would love these updates to be written the last day of each quarter and then published the next, with a restful night of reflection time in between. I’d like to delineate my life cleanly with these arbitrary three-months blocks the financial industry adopted around 1800 and I adopted around 2007. But while I’m organized I’m not always reliable, and here I am, three weeks into Q3. I’m telling you about Q2 trying not to be influenced by the last 21 days and finding it impossible not to be.
My second Greece trip eked its way into this recap, even though I only got back a week ago and I shouldn’t reflect on it until September. A bit I developed on that trip has snuck in, too: holding up my fingers and saying, “Just a liiiiittle, liiiiittle bit” when what I mean is “A lot.”
I’ve pulled the future forward a little. And reflection of this sort always makes me double back to the past.
But now that this is done, and it’s still July, not yet September, I’m going to go back to the present. One day and one trip and one emotion at a time. And today, this afternoon, after posting this, the little bit I’m going to most be is in love.
xx KP