a postmortem of year 32
milestones, fails, and the universe's swift kick in my ass in one fell swoop
Housekeeping + Cool Things—
Before we get to this month’s missive, I wanted to share some of the cool things I’ve been up to behind the scenes. This one’s a long post (I got the near email length limit bar up on the screen—another milestone to celebrate for the year! Haven’t received one of these since 2024 lol) so if it gets cut off in your inbox, click through to read on the website.
I’m Blood Tree Literature’s new CNF Editor!
Here is an updated version of the schpiel I posted on Substack notes:
I’m a creative non-fiction editor at Blood Tree Literature (thanks Sub Club + Chill Subs for the post where I found said position.)
Our submissions open from Oct 1-30 and non-fiction is notoriously slow for subs. So… why not get your drafts ready? There’s a free submission period, but if you aren’t able to pay the fee, please e-mail our team for a fee-waiver, as they’re always available.
As an editor, I want to see submissions that push the boundaries of non-fiction. Art is political, and I want to see your art and how it stands up against fascism. (I also will take your hot-take craft essays as long as they are well written, but criticism and reviews should be turfed to our Features or Reviews editors) I want to read your hyper-analytical takes on your current obsessions, but I also want to witness you enjoying what you write. I can always tell if you’re having a good time writing something ;-)
If you want an idea of whose work I love, look no further than Substack! My fave non-fiction writers:Alexander Chee, Chloé Cooper Jones, Emma Copley Eisenberg, Esmé Weijun Wang, Meghan O’Rourke, Jami Nakamura Lin— amongst others not featured: T Kira Madden, Annie Liontas.
Give me your unhinged a la youngmi mayer & Jacqueline Novak; or yearn the way Mia Arias Tsang does or teach me something new like Gabe Dunn does every single time he posts something new.
I want to see submissions from QTBIPOC THE MOST. Please, this is a wonderful opportunity for me to publish your work, so SUBMIT!
Mutual Aid Ask/Non-Spon-Con
One of my best friends, former business/astrology mentor, and all-around wonderful human has been in an emergency housing situation for the last year, and it’s getting down to the wire. I want to note that this isn’t sponsored content, I believe in Amaya’s work and have personally benefitted, so I wanted to share it with you all.
If you like my work, and want to go more in depth on creativity and following your heart’s creative true north, I recommend signing up for Amaya’s newest workshop. Unlike her vaulted work (also linked down below,) this new course is tailored towards a general audience and speaks to creativity in a way I haven’t seen since Julia Cameron’s The Writer’s Way.
If you’re interested, please buy or respond here if you have any questions. I’ve worked with Amaya on a 1:1 level over the last five years, and she’s one of my dearest friends and colleagues. Right now, she’s fighting an eviction and slumlord, so any amount you can buy or support her helps. Her work is also essential
On the Ninth House Year (32):
In one of my past lives as a professional astrologer, I counselled clients by interpreting the stars.
After an initial reading, I suggested clients follow up when they felt necessary—otherwise, once a year, around their birthday, was sufficient. During a solar return (birthday) reading, I interpreted the cosmic forecast for the year ahead and reflecting on the year before. One of the forecasting techniques I used is called annual profections, a Hellenistic-era timing method.
In short, one’s life can be linked to a 12-year cycle, and on one’s birthday each year—the themes of the house (1st house → ‘you,’ ‘appearance,’'; 2nd house → ‘money,’ ‘possessions’, etc.) corresponding to one’s age—a “new year” starts. I know this all might sound like bullshit, but when I mapped them among major life events, I found some of the overlying themes to be true.
For instance, right before I turned 28, while I was still in a 4th house profection year, my spouse and I moved into a place we bought. When I was 30—a 7th house year—my partner and I wed over the course of three different celebrations.
At 32, my 9th house year feels no different.
Using profections, I surmised the year ahead would revolve around applying to graduate school—something I’d put off the last few years as I scrambled to get a handle on my pain and health. Shortly after turning 32, I applied for everything I could possibly think of. I aimed for online, part-time social work programs with one full-time because it was local—the universe spat out a state school with an advanced generalist program. When he heard I had an interview with the full-time program, my spouse expressed skepticism: “I don’t think you’re gonna travel that far every day without getting sick of it. You might burn out.” I ignored him and submitted myself for consideration for a few workshops and conferences. I prepared slides for a conference I’d agree to participate early 2025, using the end of 2024 to cram in a few more visual aids as I worked on the presentation.
When the 9th house, instead, demands travel, I answer. Happily.
While I waited for results, I went to Arizona for aforementioned conference, where I presented on disability justice in polyamory. It was semi-successful, but changed many views on how I want to engage in community spaces. In the spring, I got into grad school. However, I got into a few writing workshops, one where I was initially waitlisted, and another where I would meet one of my favorite writers and mentors. Both involved travel. My schedule, as predicted, slated a few solid months of travel (May with a partner, June for a writing program, and July for the other conference) which helped me recalibrate amidst a worsening hellscape (America, the beautiful– who said?) During my travels, I realized I was no longer someone who tolerated meaningless relations. I needed security and safety, even at the price of shedding friendships that no longer felt aligned with my values.
The month before my next birthday sees a jolt of activity, as if preparing me for a grand send-off to the next time lord.
My literary colleagues urged me to “make sure I got paid accordingly for my talent,” and by the end of August, I had been accepted to all the low-residency MFA programs I’d applied to. Upon sharing the good news, a poet friend pushed, “Congratulations! I think you should apply for full-residency programs because I firmly believe BIPOC shouldn’t pay for education. We add too much to the workshop experience.” I cried out of sheer overwhelm—even if I don’t want to go that path, I noted people believed in the work I threw out there.1
This ninth house year mirrored a previous one—at 20. During that time, I’d transferred universities, planned to graduate early and apply for post-baccalaureate pre-medical programs (under the delusion I could be a doctor, even with my crippling symptoms back then that caused me to miss classes and workouts) while trying to plan a multi-country backpacking trip. That shit was literal.
I’ve often mentioned how astrologers view time in cycles. I’ll go as far to say that if an astrologer doesn’t view time as cyclical and non-linear, they’re not a good one. Even if the cosmos turn out to be bullshit, I think our natural tendency towards pattern recognition and making can lead the most obsessive of us to gather data. Then, make meaning out of the statistics. I spent four years doing that for clients. Maybe that’s why birthdays feel so tedious, despite creating an entire profession around them.
On 11 Years with T—
As far as cycles go…
My last newsletter coincided with my 11-year anniversary with my spouse, T. We’ve only been married for two years, but we’ve been in a relationship for the last 11. This year, we celebrated with less fanfare because 1) I was out of town for a work trip; and 2) we’d spent most our budget on travel.
Yes, it’s strange when other writers read my work and crave more of his presence. When I mention this in passing, he shrugs and responds, “You can write about me more, but we live a pretty boring life.” In certain aspects, he’s correct—our mundane routines don’t scream intrigue—but that’s by design. The comedian Atsuko Okatsuka tells a joke in her latest special, Father, about getting a call from This American Life producers. “You never want to do a This American Life episode,” she opines, using humor to soften the traumatic blows, “if you do, that means your life was bad.” The rest of the joke lands when she says, “If you ever find yourself being one [an inspiration] that means someone fucked up.” While T and I have had our share of conflict and fuck-ups in our lives, our relationship does not garner airtime on NPR.2 In couples therapy, our therapist deemed us infuriatingly tolerant of the other that the change we’d come in for would never arrive if we kept accommodating the other.
We have grown into each other, able to sense the other’s emotions before they’ve processed. Our lives together revolve around caretaking and survival—which is the least glamorous part about being with someone. When they say “in sickness and in health,” I’d gather that 100% of our marriage tested that by throwing me into the deep end. During my worst moments, T has seen me shit myself, bought me adult incontinence pads and diapers during flares, thrown our soiled sheets in the laundry at 2 am when even those defenses fail.
Contrary to trauma and fuck-ups, T is the safest, most secure relationship I’ve had in my life. And that’s what makes him boring to write about. It is easy to fall in love with T when I talk about him to my friends and family because he is frankly, an amazing, funny and intelligent human being who just so happens to also be my best friend.
I’m aware not everyone has a T, but if you are so lucky to find one in your life to build and grow—tell them how much they matter to you, every chance you get. (But also romance shouldn’t be a central focus of one’s life, invest in your friendships and chosen family and communities ok bYYYEYEEEEEEEEE)
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My imposter syndrome and inability to receive compliments/validation are things I’m working on with my therapist lmao
It did, however, earn us a spot on the BBC. We had to pause mid-recording because our producer needed us to play up the drama. Whoops.