My year in lists.
Goodbye, 2024.
Because my brain is always a bit overripe this time of year—overfull, soft, prone to expiration at any given moment—I thought I’d make things easier on myself for my end-of-year recap. I originally had lofty goals of thoroughly reviewing my favorite books, films, and music, and writing more in depth about the milestones and highlights from this year, but I don’t have the energy for that right now. I can’t wake up before 8:30 AM anymore, and the burnout I’ve collected from this year has been compounded by holiday burnout and has settled deep in my bones. I’ll save all that loftiness for next year.
I write to you now from the Liminal Space, one of my favorite times of the year. This period feels almost sacred to me, a moment that hovers between two worlds and timelines and allows us to pause and recalibrate before beginning anew. December 25th ushers in an inevitable quiet whether you celebrate Christmas or not, since many places close their doors in observation. Our work slows, and deadlines are, for once, not the priority (or they are at least softer and more pliable during this time). I am free to reprise my role as flâneuse, wandering the aisles of my favorite bookstores or jotting down a piece of dialogue overheard at a coffee shop without worrying about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. It feels like observing the world outside of the bounds of time. It is my favorite.
In 2024, I sat flush against the very edges of my joy and sorrow. This year taught me how much feeling one person can hold and how structures that previously felt so eternal can shift almost instantly. Fortune is fickle, but this year did not make me succumb — it did, however, make me surrender. There is an important distinction between those two words. The first feels involuntary, while the latter implies some agency. I made the choice to let go of expectations for what’s to come.
In 2024, I…
Got married. Being married is fantastic, like a never-ending sleepover with someone who makes you laugh and you are also very attracted to. Highly recommend. We’ve reached such an extreme in Millennial skepticism toward traditional institutions that getting married almost felt subversive. I often questioned in my teens and early twenties whether or not I was the “marrying type,” but as Father John Misty once said, dating for 20 years just feels pretty civilian. So, reader, I married him. In quiet rebellion, we privately exchanged vows a few weeks before the actual wedding in Big Sur. We stayed at Deetjen’s, a famous refuge for several of my literary heroes and a place I’ve wanted to visit for some time. It was perfect.
Started grad school. Never have I ever been so overwhelmed, broke, and excited to have a completely different career. I have several more mental breakdowns to endure before I’m finished, but I’m halfway through and beginning my practicum in January. Time certainly flies when you’re having weekly meltdowns. Such is the irony of pursuing a career in mental health.
Got a formal ADHD diagnosis, which was surprisingly empowering. It also brought up a considerable amount of unexpected grief. Growing up in the '90s and early aughts, diagnosing little girls with ADHD was something we didn’t do, so I flew under the radar for years, internalizing the false narrative that I was faulty and less capable than everyone around me. Untangling those internalized beliefs with my therapist has been really fun (derogatory), and getting this diagnosis and finding the proper medications was life-changing (genuine, non-ironic).
Watched my husband start a new business. Seeing the growth and evolution of Ed’s labor of love, Search Results, was one of my favorite parts of this year. I’m on the edge of my front-row seat, so excited to see where this takes him. Next year, he’ll be doing the flea market circuit more frequently and will have a year-long popup at Elementi, so please stop by if you’re in the area. You can also follow his Instagram for updates or to buy anything he posts directly.
Started taking Substack & writing more seriously. I finally got comfortable calling myself a writer. I find it funny how such a slight shift in language can feel like staking a claim in your own life. Writing was always something I did automatically, so perhaps this is why, for so long, writing wasn’t something I considered — it was more of a reflex, something so intrinsically a part of me and my existence. To quote the great David Foster Wallace, it was like asking a fish, "How's the water?" What the hell is water?
Books I read.
I didn’t read as many books as I’d have liked, but I’m still impressed I managed to find the time to read twenty-four books in my first year of graduate school. My goal for 2025 is to get up to fifty, which I plan to achieve by cutting out mindless television and opening a void each night after dinner.
Honorable mentions: The Coin by Yasmin Zaher, Grief is for People by Sloane Crosley, and Sandwich by Catherine Newman.
Things I listened to.
According to my Spotify Wrapped, I only listened to Charli XCX, pop punk/emo, and ambient music this year. This is an intriguing bouquet of specific tastes and is only partially true. I revisited a handful of albums throughout the year, as well as some NTS shows and mixes from friends. Below are a few of my favorites, in no particular order.
Jessica Pratt (especially her new album, Here in the Pitch) • William Basinski • Ann Annie • Jefre Cantù-Ledesma • Hana Stretton • MJ Lenderman • Aphex Twin • Pharaoh Sanders • Grouper • Acopia • Midwife • TR/ST • Daedalus • Don Cherry • Nailah Hunter • Suzanne Kraft • Dean Blunt • Ana Roxanne
I’m ashamed to admit that the only podcast I really listened to this year was How Long Gone. It’s very silly and irreverent, but the two hosts always make me laugh, and they have great guests. I like that they intentionally shirk the typical interview questions, which somehow reveals more about the guest and their work than it does to explicitly ask them about whatever new book/film/album/restaurant they’re plugging. I loved this recent episode with Lili Anolik, which I listened to twice.
On NTS, I usually listen to Ambient Abracadabra or Perfect Sound Forever, but recently I’ve enjoyed listening to the breakfast shows with Macca and Flo, because Ed usually listens to one of the two. My friend Ryan, who I met at my seasonal job and whom I’ve bonded with over strange ambient music, also sent me some of their mixes (here and here), which I loved.
Films I watched.
2024 was a light year for me in terms of films, a trend I’m hoping to reverse in 2025. Refining my media consumption habits is a priority for the new year, especially with the inevitable onslaught of alarmist headlines from the crumbling legacy media as we usher in the next circus regime. But I digress. Below are a few of my favorite films from this year, presented in no particular order.
Perfect Blue (1994) dir. Satoshi Kon • The Worst Person in the World (2022) dir. Joachim Trier • Eileen (2023) dir. William Oldroyd • Flipside (2023) dir. Christopher Wilcha • Anora (2024) dir. Sean Baker • Bergman Island (2021) dir. Mia Hansen-Løve • The Wicker Man (1973) dir. Robin Hardy • Didi (2024) dir. Sean Wang • Perfect Days (2023) dir. Wim Wenders • Zone of Interest (2023) dir. Jonathan Glazer • Challengers (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino • Maxxxine (2024) dir. Ti West
Honorable mentions: Wicked (2024), which I honestly thought I would hate, but I left the theater sobbing. I also went to a screening of Joe Wright's Pride & Prejudice at Vidiots and had a stupidly wonderful time despite having seen this film dozens of times. Everyone in the audience was shrieking, quoting the most iconic lines, and gasping at a hand flex drenched in spicy historical context. My friend’s dad came with us, and his Very Midwest Dad reactions added an additional layer of entertainment — 10/10 experience.
My favorite newsletters I’ve sent:
This letter explores the tension between my desire for deep and meaningful engagement with difficult works of literature (Proust, Joyce, Wallace) and the unfortunate digital distractions of modern life.
“Now, in 2024, after spending almost ten years on a platform that desiccated my ability to concentrate, I must set about the task of rebuilding my mental endurance to Proustian, Joycean, and Foster-Wallacean (?) depths because there is so much beauty I want to consume that requires time, attention, and care, and my time on this planet is limited.”
This essay about the importance of being out in the world — how it fuels and stokes the fire of our creative endeavors and how these small but crucial interactions slowly disappear as we further ingratiate ourselves into fully remote work lifestyles and digital culture.
“We’re living in a pivotal cultural moment, one in which people are beginning to recognize that constant digital noise is a major source of the pain and disconnection we face every day. The apps we once used to foster connections have slowly replaced them, diluting and flattening what were once rich and dimensional lives.”
I am saving my favorite for last because I reference my queen Linda Nochlin. This essay explores how the unpaid or grossly underpaid labor of child-rearing and housework falls disproportionately on women of color and highlights the intersection of gender and race within societal power structures, ultimately leading to a significant underrepresentation of art and writing by women.
“Within this narrative, women fell to the wayside, doomed to be secondary characters within their own plot lines and obscured by layers of history while their husbands skyrocketed to fame.”
Some 2025 predictions.
Light dandy-ism. Or quaintrelle-ism. The slight aesthetic inflection of a tie, a vest, a penchant for a jaunty walk in the countryside, a la Sebastian Flyte. I’ve been inspired by these visuals lately, looking to people like Donna Tartt, Marlene Deitrich, Diane Keaton in Annie Hall, and Charlotte Gainsbourg when getting dressed. I think this could be the year of the quaintrelle, slightly different from simply women-wearing-menswear. There is an art to it.
Romanticism and Transcendentalism. As in John Keats and Henry David Thoreau. As our very human lives become more enmeshed with tech and AI, we will see an even more deliberate (and in some cases, performative) rejection of modernity. A return to analog forms of media, dumb phones, and “slower living,” hopefully in a less insufferable way.
A return to the classics. This may only apply to me, but 2025 will be a year of classics. I want to reread all my favorites and finally get around to reading any I missed. I’ve gathered several I’m excited to dig into in my recent book-related excursions: Middlemarch, Mrs. Dalloway, and The Brothers Karamazov. I’m craving something substantial and complex. Something that tests my endurance and makes me a better reader and writer. In Eric Hoel’s piece (published several years ago but still relevant), he explores how MFA programs have influenced the contemporary literary landscape, briefly referencing this shift while discussing Rachel Kushner’s reading habits:
“‘In truth I mostly revisit works of fiction I already love. I’m not the only one…’ and then she goes on to namecheck mostly dead novelists like Duras, Proust, Amis, Bellow. The implication being she doesn’t read contemporary literature, and doesn’t see why anyone would, given the wealth of past voices and the paucity of present ones.” (source)
Finally, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to everyone who has subscribed and taken the time to read my words this year. At the risk of being overly earnest, your support has been a source of both confidence and inspiration and is invaluable to me.
To those who have upgraded to paid subscriptions, I cannot thank you enough. Your generosity not only sustains this space but also motivates me to keep creating and evolving. I’m excited to see how this little corner of the internet takes shape in the year ahead.
Wishing you all a safe and joyful New Year’s Eve, and a New Year’s Day spent in a way that sets a meaningful tone for 2025. I’ll see you on the other side.
x Kait
Happy happy new year, Kait!! Xx
This!!! As a fellow 90’s and early 00’s ADHDer your lists always put words to feelings I haven’t quite been able to grasp. I’ve absolutely been gravitating to the creature comforts of my life prior to the arrival of a smart phone- Slow burning films, classic literature, thrifting, creativity and learning for the sake of creativity and learning. I hadn’t quite connected my return to these things as a rejection of modernity but I think you are absolutely right. I just finished Eileen (you were right… so bleak) and am in desperate need of a mental palate cleanser. I’m leaning towards Vanity Faire, but Orlando’s the Tenant of Wildfell Hall are also calling.