In the first minute of 2024, he kissed me and whispered, "this is gonna be our year."
We had a lot to look forward to. We were working together again, building something we thought we could be proud of. We were looking forward to simpler times in our new home after turmoil and loss in the family. And we were about to spend another year of savoring the time with our young children before the begin to find their independence.
Even when things didn't go our way, I held onto that mantra. This is supposed to be our year, I'd remind myself throughout every disappointment and defeat; what I'm experiencing now must just be part of the process. I would flash back to that moment on New Years Eve, and whatever I was facing became easier.
Ultimately, 2024 was just another year. We faced many challenges, and shared a lot of bright moments. On the whole, we have so much to be grateful for. The "our year" mantra didn't come true, but ti did keep my spirits up, and led me to look for evidence that Jer was be right. It helped me to see more of the light.
New year, new mantra
This year, I have a new mantra: Nobody is coming to save me.
It sounds dark as fuck, but the whole world feels dark as fuck right now. The best shot I have is to acknowledge the influence I have over my own life and the future of my family.
If 2025 ends up being my year, it won't be because I have an employer that's looking out for me; It won't be because the federal government is looking after my future; and it definitely won't be because big tech is making the world a better place. If 2025 ends up being my year, it will be because I used my energy to plan my own future; I invested in my own communities; and I formed intentional relationships with people I care about.
In all likelihood, 2025 will also be just another year. But when I recognize that nobody is coming to save me, I know that what I make of this year is in my own hands.
The beginning of the end
2010 was an inflection point in my life for many reasons. I was beginning to approach my new identities as wife and mom, and, I didn't know it yet, but I was winding down an important chapter in my career. Up until that time, I was doing things for me, in my own spaces, and sharing intentionally with people who shared my enthusiasm.
I posted to my own blog, where people only came to read what they were interested in. And I read the blogs of people I admired.
I participated in mailing lists and intentional communities for Drupal and other interest groups.
I went on photo walks with people I met on Flickr.
I mostly just did things for my own enjoyment, and used the internet just enough to connect with people who shared in that enjoyment.
"Social networking" began to take a new form around 2010 – and I'm starting to realize that it wasn't just me. Intentional communities languished: I spent more time on Twitter than curating my own spaces, we all started using Meetup to get together, and I ditched Flickr to start posting my kids' early childhood updates on Facebook.
Over the years, everything consolidated into a handful of platforms. And then everything got remixed and rearranged to suit the interests of the owners of those platforms. By 2020, we were all locked in, and they turned the heat up from bake to broil. We invented words like 'doomscrolling,' and, stood by as posts from our friends and loved ones were traded out for posts that hijack our engagement by triggering anger and righteousness, interspersed with lighthearted nothings to keep us pacified.
We all know how the story ends. I was one of millions who got caught up in the us-vs-them battles on X during the 2024 election cycle. It felt gross to participate in the vitriol, but it also felt important to take a stand: if I could somehow help to move the needle, if my candidate could win the election, we might all be OK.
I am gutted at the thought of how the next four years are going to play out, and the permanent implications of what's about to unfold. But, while I would never suggest that both sides are the same, the truth is that a Harris win would have kept me pretty complacent, without changing much otherwise.
One tiny upside of how things turned out is that I'm no longer under the illusion that some outside force is going to make everything OK. Nobody is coming to save us.
Party like it's 2010
After the election, I've avoided news and social networks, particularly X. But deleting my accounts would hurt me more than it would hurt big tech. My accounts are a source of serendipity and connection with people I'd otherwise lose touch with forever, and I'd feel the loss hard, without making any difference at all for the platforms.
I owe my career and most of my personal connections to the internet and to online communities, and I think that's worth fighting for. But it's time for us to think about how we're using using technology – why we're using technology – and who benefits.
I was on Facebook in 2010. And LinkedIn. And Twitter. I benefited from these platforms, but I didn't depend on them. I went there when I had something to say, or when I wanted to see what others were up to – I also used blogs and online communities for what they were built for. I was the one in control of my own participation.
I hope the trends in 2025 will include more online expression, but through open platforms that aren't all under one roof. The open-source blogging platform, Ghost, is a more than capable replacement for Medium or Substack, and a much safer home for our thoughts than Facebook or LinkedIn. Forum software like Discourse makes it easy to imagine going back to self-hosted communities after we ditched PHPNuke for Facebook groups. These technologies have evolved beautifully, and all we need to do is start using them.
I'm revisiting my relationship to the technologies that support my hobbies, and I'm re-engaging in activities I enjoyed in 2010. I'm joining more interest groups on both Facebook and Reddit, appreciating them at face value. I've started a 365 project on Flickr, which feels hilariously regressive, totally freeing, and has led to blogging on my personal site. Taking photos every day has led me back to more things I enjoy - exploring, cooking, family, and a stronger connection to my own surroundings.
Nobody is coming to save us, and that means we aren't beholden to anyone. We have more choices in how we save ourselves. Let's let go of expectations. Let's do more of what we love. Let's do it for ourselves.
Find your people, online and in person. Invest in your communities. And please send me a link to your RSS feed.