Yesterday was Chris’s birthday, but more importantly, today marks one official year of Essays No One Asked For. The very first issue was sent out on Thursday, May 20, 2021, so today we have the rare opportunity of having the anniversary align with a regular newsletter release date on account of my choice to change the weekly drop day to Friday almost immediately after publishing the first issue. As we reach issue 52, I wanted to recap the last year, and deliver an exciting announcement.
When I started this newsletter, I had no idea how long this experiment would last. I had only a rough idea of what I might say, and no idea who would read it. I only knew that I wanted a reason to write more regularly, so I made one. I started most issues with a variation on the phrase “I don’t know what to say but here I am anyway,” and then managed to find several paragraphs of something to say, and for that, I’m proud of myself. There were many weeks when I considered not sending an issue out, because I didn’t feel like I had anything of value to say, but forced myself to because I knew that I needed to get out the unimportant drivel so that when I had something of value to say, I’d be prepared to say it.
As the year went on, I managed to find a few things that were worth saying. Growth, as they say, isn’t linear. I found that my favorite issues were often not the issues that would grow to be most popular. The issues that were favorites — whether mine or readers’ — were often followed by placeholders, issues that were written just to keep me in the routine of writing.
I still can't explain exactly what it is I like about writing, or why I do this. I still don’t know exactly what I’m hoping to get from this experience, but I do know what I’ve gotten already. I’ve become more in tune with, and more importantly, more accepting of my own emotions — especially the difficult ones — after a lifetime of trying to suppress any and all feelings. I’ve had meaningful conversations about what it means to be a person on this earth, live the one stupid and beautiful life we get to live, and make the most of it. I’ve created new friendships and strengthened existing ones by being willing to be honest and vulnerable. It’s still hard for me to verbally express most of the things I talk about here, but writing them down for anyone to read has given me the vocabulary and the practice to start being open with the real people in my life.
This newsletter has watched me complete school for Ayurveda and Esthetics, start a job, then a business, and question my path more times in the span of a month than most people question their path in a lifetime. It’s seen me start therapy and start to see the difference. I came out here, I got glasses here, I divulged my failures and my daddy issues here. I’ve documented almost every major life event throughout our last trip around the sun in these issues, creating a time capsule for myself, and for anyone who reads. I hope that when you look through the archives, you remember where you were when you read each issue for the first time. I hope you remember what you were going through and what you were thinking. I hope you related in some way, no matter how small, and can look back now and realize how far you’ve come.
For all I’ve learned, I’m no less embarrassed about my own existence than I was a year ago. In fact, I might have only grown more filled with shame as I begrudgingly push myself further and further out of my comfort zone and into the digital world. There are now strangers reading my words, of whom I am both incredulous and immensely grateful. Growth is a beautiful process, but not always a pretty or pleasant one.
Imposter syndrome never truly goes away. I started this newsletter unsure of its merit, and I continue writing this newsletter, unsure of my skills. A reminder that I heard recently and return to often keeps me writing even when I doubt myself and my work: you are the expert of your own lived experience. Nobody has lived the life I have, or experienced exactly the same events as I have in exactly the same way.
Remembering this helps, for a moment, until I start to wonder why anyone would want to know about my lived experience at all. I think we’re all a little nosy though, aren’t we? We’re all just searching for someone else who will tell us that we’re not alone. Humans love to think that their feelings are niche, but for the most part, they’re pretty universal. So, I may not be able to articulate current events with elegance, or wax poetic about the moon or love or any number of the things about which real poets write, but I can write about my lived experience and hopefully make you feel a little less alone in yours.
This newsletter started as a place of experimentation, a place where I could discard (or at least try to discard) my perfectionistic tendencies. I’ve sent out issues with typos, with particularly shitty poems, with regrettably few photos in the photo dump. I’ve spent a lifetime trying not to become better, but to avoid making mistakes in the first place. A friend told me once, when we worked together years ago, that he didn’t mind making mistakes because it meant that he was learning, a convenience I never afforded myself. If I could manage to simply be perfect the first time around, I thought, I wouldn’t have to worry about improving. I also felt that I didn’t have permission to improve, that people expected perfection instantly. To grow would be a sign that I hadn’t been good enough in the first place. This newsletter has allowed me a place to make mistakes intentionally and openly, to learn and truly become better.
In celebration of a full year of Essays No One Asked for, I’m launching a paid tier to this newsletter. The regular Friday issues will continue just as they are, complete with an essay that, famously, no one asked for, a collection of poems, and a dump of photos from my week. The paid tier is going to be a place of further experimentation for me. Issues will come out regularly, though not on a set day. At least once a week, you’ll receive an extra little surprise from me in your inbox. While the free newsletter is my home for writing, the paid tier will be home for experimenting with various forms of media — long- and short-form writing (of course), in addition to newer mediums, like voice notes, vlogs, poetry readings, and maybe even a podcast or two.
In extra celebration, I am running a discount on year-long subscriptions, now through the end of June. If you want to give me extra support and become a founding member, you can choose the amount you want to pay for a yearly subscription (it defaults to $100, but you can click the number and change it to anything over the regular $50/year price). I hate to be a business bitch, so if a paid subscription isn’t for you, know that I still appreciate you and will continue to see you right here every Friday.
Oh, and maybe consider sharing this newsletter with someone who you think might like it? I hear newsletters are making a major comeback. Imagine — e-mail! The communication medium we all wanted to forget about just a few years ago is back and better than ever, baby. That’s the fashion cyclical, I guess. And that’s my story.
i think susan sontag would hate me
not every thought is worth sharing
but what else would I do
with my time?
no one has ever accused me
of using many words
to say nothing but
maybe they should
escapism and no concept of time
I want to do everything and
I want to do it all right now
I’m listening to that band we liked
when we were 16 and angry at the world
I’m no less angry but
now I like songs that make me forget
intellectual poem
I’m sick of trying
to like brown liquor and
nobody talks about how
bad the taste of a pencil is
what’s the difference between
bread crust and tree bark?
I’d love to hear about where you were last May compared to now. Drop a comment if you’re comfy with it, or reply to this email to talk to me directly. I will also say that this issue was not the best demonstration of my writing skills, so maybe check out some past issues if you’re new. We’ll close out with a final plug to subscribe and a plea to share with a friend, a lover, or an enemy. XX (kisses)
Until next week —
happy late birthday christopher! you both are very cute in your photo also. um last may I graduated from ciu :) thx for tuning in xx