My Old Ways

Introducing, Silver Belle. My mini-Christmas tree was purchased two weeks ago. A chance to add a needed dose of holiday cheer to my life.

As this post begins, it’s Christmas Day. A perfect time to begin looking back at the year that was.

The title of this year-ending post comes from the opening track of Tame Impala’s 2025 album, “Deadbeat.

But as 2025 comes to a close, the Gallagher brothers of Oasis seem to sum up my sentiments perfectly.

On their 2000 live album, “Familiar To Millions,” frontman Liam Gallagher introduces the song “Live Forever,” which closed out their set. He says:

“Cheers. We’d play more, but it’s been a topsy, fucking weird year.”

To which his brother Noel replies, “Same as the last one?!”

2025 had its ups and downs.

From freezing in ten-degree weather in January, to sweating in one hundred and one degree heat in July.

That year, I also prioritized my creativity. From seeing my second book, “The Dawn of a Poetic Summer,” see the light of day after spending three years in my Google Docs. A year where I found a poetic community of sorts during my brief stay as a member of Gather. A time when I made my way back to the Ring of Daisies at the NYC Poetry Festival. Technical difficulties for sure, but I performed my poems. And a time where the worlds of work and art collided as a poem of mine was featured in WorkWell NYC’s city employee arts showcase, Art Is Life.

If you had told me that I would’ve spent most of this year dancing, I wouldn’t have believed you. But I did.

I attempted to find something fun and new to do. As French classes didn’t stick, neither did improv. The old pattern of analysis paralysis was rearing its ugly head. I couldn’t keep coming up with excuses for why I wasn’t doing anything.

Yet, the idea of dance kept coming up. So did the idea that I couldn’t move my body.

But what class to take?

After a friend, Nicolita, followed my Instagram feed, I found out that she was part of the Cucala Dance Company troupe, the Cucalindas. I came across the company website in March and signed up for a pair of Sunday drop-in classes. By the end of the partner work class, I wanted to keep going. The March social led to signing up for Salsa 101. Then Salsa 102 in April. I was a frequent visitor to most of the socials for the rest of the year.

As much as I grew to love salsa, I had my moments with tango. Of silent embraces as the music grew louder. With scenes of the sun setting along the Hudson River on summer nights. When the music goes, so does the sense of self-consciousness.

It was a year of trying to confront the albatross, walking the line between looking for love and being on my own.

I didn’t mind being in a church full of couples on Valentine’s night. Certainly not when Edith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose” is being performed under candlelight. Contrast this with “The Feels.” In the midst of all the touches, bodies, and eye gazes, it took me a bit of time to warm up.

2025 was a year of reckoning.

My parents aren’t in the best of health. Their various difficulties are becoming more obvious. It hasn’t been easy to grasp the idea that they’re aging. To be reminded that I need to think about my future a lot more often than I already do. I try my best to be as helpful as I possibly can. Even if it doesn’t feel like enough is being done most days.

I couldn’t leave my travels from this post. Both of them happened over six weeks this fall. A happy accident.

First up, a two-week stay at the artists and writers residency, Chateau d’Orquevaux, in mid-September.

The journey to the Ardennes took a long way round. Since I was accepted for the first time in the summer of 2023, I didn’t go. I was in an unstable place at the time, being a temp at my current job. Privately, I wondered if I actually belonged among actual artists. My inaction cost me my spot. This would not sit well with me.

I gave the application process another shot. To my shock, I got accepted again. It was a sign from up above. And so, I arrived in Paris.

The chateau’s a magical place. Nary a soul to be found in the village. Twenty-eight artists, photographers, and writers have all the time to create. Under star-lit skies at night.

There was no plan for what I wanted to do. Only the notion of writing a long-form piece. True to form, though, I still wrote poetry every day. Calling back to my invisible muse, Caterina, and a vision of my future self. I had something for the presentation, the Writer’s Open Studio, after two weeks of effort.

With a sigh of relief, I didn’t want to leave. I enjoyed the crew’s company throughout the residency.

Upon arriving at JFK on September 29th, the clock started ticking towards the second trip. One that was nine years in the making.

The return to Spain.

Unlike the accidental Orquevaux, Spain was fully planned. But there was a twist. I changed companies, and the tour was all solo travelers.

After a layover in Dublin, I arrived in Barcelona. From the first interaction with our guide, Mariola, at the airport, I knew that an amazing twelve days were in store.

Twenty-nine of us made up the group. Twenty-seven women and two men. It didn’t stop the fun, though. From Gaudí’s architectural wonders to Madrid’s royal majesty. The Andalusian passion of Seville and Granada, a hidden gem in Antequera. Being by the sea in Malaga after three days of rain.

Like Orquevaux, I didn’t want to say adios to the Familia. Most of our guides referred to us as a family. Half of our group missed us when they departed after we left Seville. But there was still joy abounding right up to the very last moments.

The mad dash known as December began with a new year of life and the start of my fourth decade on earth. This month has gone by so fast, in a blur of holiday parties, lights, and last shouts filled with salsa rhythms and tango tandas. One more week of 2025 is left to go as the holidays begin.

This post is only a snapshot of what’s happened in 2025. I couldn’t possibly do this crazy, joyful, and at times overwhelming year justice in these words.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that I went to see Soledad Barrio & Noche Flamenca at Joe’s Pub. This was the fourth time, and her mercurial presence always leaves me spellbound.

Among the many events this year, a high school reunion took place at the end of May. On a windy afternoon, some of LICHS’s Class of 2003 reunited at Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden.

What’s on the horizon for 2026?

I’ll be back in France next year as part of Jane Webster’s Chateau Life Residency. Chateau Bosgouet awaits next summer as my entry won the “Letter to Normandy” competition.

My year begins in the second week of January. Paying homage to David Bowie on the tenth anniversary of his death. Followed by a rendezvous with the reason my invisible muse exists, a performance of “Carmen” at the Metropolitan Opera. And visiting the “Tablao” of Flamenco Vivo.

From there, the rest of the story remains unwritten.

I want to thank everyone for their support this year. From friends, family, my coach, and my therapist. All the encouragement has propelled me forward. I can’t wait for 2026.

From me to you, I hope the new year brings all the peace, love, joy, and comfort. All the shining light, too.