hu cares | a gentle pat on the back

At some point along the way, it seems to have become fashionable to be anti-New Years resolution. And I mean, I get it. We are tired. We know we’re already (K)enough; we’re done with self-improvement, because it’s time for the conditions to improve, for once, not us. But I really love the energy a new year brings, and riding its momentum forward. The promise of a fresh start gives me an excuse to sit down and think about what I want out of the year, and what kind of person I want to be.

I’ve been alive long enough to know it’s unlikely I will completely reinvent myself between December 31 and January 1. Over the years, my resolutions have become less ambitious: one of my 2023 resolutions was to buy myself flowers more often. It was low-stress, imminently achievable, and something that will gave me a reason to seek joy. I’m also increasingly interested in process over product. How do I want to spend my days, and how can I convince myself to actually do that?

In December, I started thinking about what I would like to do more of in my daily life, and how to encourage myself to actually do those things. I feel great after a workout, but I don’t always feel up to it after a day of work. I’m much happier if I spend part of my evening drawing or writing or working on a new linocut, but it’s so much easier to scroll through my phone. And I feel delight whenever I discover a fantastic new album or find a new way to style clothes from my closet, but it’s less effort and more comfortable to stick to what I already know and like.

The first thing I thought of was adding these things to my to-do list, or using a “habit tracker,” where you mark down, everyday, whether you did something or not. But even just the thought of trying either option filled me with dread immediately; inevitably, I’d fail to complete the list or I’d miss a few days on the tracker and feel bad about it. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that guilt or shame doesn’t get me very far. I used to think that punishing myself for not completing a goal would lead to compliance, that berating myself in my head would convince me to shape up for next time. But no! The gentler I am with myself, the more confidence I feel, and the more motivated I am to continue on. Perhaps there was a way to give myself positive reinforcement instead?

Enter: stickers. Stickers! I bought a bunch of stickers, the same types my third grade teacher gave out for a job well done on homework, or cleaning up our classroom: foil stars, smiley faces, and, thanks to my friend Kate, cartoon animals offering their support with phrases like “Amazing!” and “Great job!” Those are high-value stickers, not only because they’re much bigger and bolder than the others, but because I imagine they come with the encouragement of a trusted pal. They also happen to be the ones I get for working on this newsletter. (Also: Kate conducted a Very Scientific Study at The Last Word on Nothing which, in retrospect, I am sure #influenced my idea to do this.)

Sticker for what I’m currently writing not pictured.

It’s only been ten days, so I’m not going to call it a success yet, but it’s been delightful to stand at the calendar each night and collect my little rewards. As a kid who always experienced anxiety around where to stick their hard-earned stickers — will I regret putting it on this notebook or folder?! — there’s something empowering and healing about the decisiveness with which the stickers go on the calendar. And, at the suggestion of my friend Julia, there will be prizes once I earn a certain number of stickers! (To stick with the elementary school theme, one of them is getting to buy a new book, which is the closest thing I can think of to attending a Scholastic Book Fair.)

I hope the external rewards will motivate me when the internal satisfaction will not, but so far, the latter is really what’s driving me. It’s really less about sticker itself, or the prize — after all, I’m an adult and I can buy a book whenever I want. It’s more that my silly system is fun, and it reminds me that I set it up because these are actually the things I like to do! It’s leaning into gentleness, a way to give myself a pat on the back for things that matter to me, because I’m the only one who can or will recognize myself for being good to myself.

In the same spirit: I drew some awards that I’d like to give myself, and I hope you will be generous in giving yourself, too, because you are the person in the best position to determine whether you have achieved them. And they are, in my opinion, big achievements, but invisible ones! We are congratulated on big milestones and those can feel good too, but honestly, learning to be nice to myself in my head — and choosing to do it when the mean voice shows up — has been way tougher than the stuff people tend to celebrate.

Unsolicited recommendations

• Mr. Kitters, who is actually not one cat but three. Each cat wears a little camera around its neck and while I have Opinions about outdoor cats I put aside while watching these videos, it is deeply soothing to watch them live their rich little lives. Their footsteps crunch in the snow, they mewl at their friends, they hang out under the trampoline in the yard.

• The podcast Who Shat on the Floor At My Wedding. The subject is self-explanatory, the hosts hilarious. I have a soft spot for people who take a deeply unserious question and apply the utmost seriousness to it.

• Future Me. Each year I write myself a letter and set it to send a year later; I always forget, and it’s a lovely little gift from myself. I once sent one ten years in the future and boy was it a trip! One of the questions I asked my future-me in that letter was if I married the guy I was dating at the time, and it turns out I did.

• The other night that guy and I were laying in bed and I asked him what he was watching on YouTube. “This guy is pouring liquid metal into anthills,” he said. People make some really beautiful sculptures doing this and I had no idea but I am so charmed by it.

• You know how sometimes you’re listening to a podcast episode you think is going to be about one thing but actually ends up being about everything? That was this episode of Search Engine, PJ Vogt's new podcast. (For what it’s worth, I’m really enjoying the entire show, so if you end up liking this, listen to the rest, too.)

• MUNA’s MUNA. I am late to this but now I am obsessed.

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Lately

• 2023 was a big year for A.I., and as ChatGPT has freaked people out, there have been more calls for A.I. regulation. In Slate, I wrote about how the conversations around regulating A.I. might feel new, but they’re really just a continuation of a years-long discussion around data privacy and algorithmic bias. And yes, of course I shoehorned a mention of SmarterChild into this piece, and am grateful to my editor Susan for letting it fly.

• I was on a panel at NYU about — only slightly meta! — newsletters on Substack. No, I have not watched it back and I never will, but my dad gets this newsletter and I figured if he hasn’t already found it from the Google alert I suspect he has for my name, maybe he’ll want the link.

• Speaking of my dad, he translated my last essay about my dog Maeby, into Chinese. It’s on his Medium page. Fun fact: some of my dad’s Chinese translations of poets like Lord Byron are now standard! (I have not fact checked this; you can take it up with my dad if this turns out to be false.)

• Imagine going to the club, but instead of clubbing, you’re asking people to fill out a survey about the drugs they do and also collecting their hair and saliva. Sounds sick, actually. For The Microdose, I interviewed Joseph Palamar, a researcher whose lab does this work.