do it again now!
My motto for 2026 came to me in a song, another song, repeated questions, and a sign.
Last November, my friends from Disney invited me to play a game called Music League. It’s played in rounds; you submit a song based on the round’s theme and everyone votes on their favorites. One of the rounds was called “Sorry, Grandma” - songs you would be embarrassed to play in front of your Grandma. It was a hit.
My submission came to me quickly, though it was a song I had not heard in years from a band I don’t listen to actively: “The Bad Touch” by Bloodhound Gang. Aside from the extremely NSFW lyrics, there’s a single line in the chorus that kept coming back to me: do it again now! So simple, so catchy. It implies anything - a contrast to the verse’s pointed innuendos.
I found myself quoting it for weeks.
My 2025 was nothing short of a revelatory, magical year. Exactly what the doctor *cough therapist* ordered, the kind of fantasy people dream of when they hear the word “sabbatical.” The main takeaway? I can change my own life. Whenever I want. In ways I never expected. With the help of people I’ve known, and the people I’ve just met. I used to feel fully trapped - now the options feel endless. I just wish I had an easy answer of how I did it.
If I’m choosing a vacation, I’m not usually picking a place I’ve been to before. Even if I travel annually to one new country every year until I die, I won’t cross halfway through the UN list. But when my sister-in-law asked to go to NYC for her 30th birthday in November, I couldn’t hide my smile. I didn’t care that I was there this time last year, or that it will be my fifth time going. In the way I used to find excitement in the unknown, I had begun to appreciate the security in the familiar. And who could deny an autumn in New York?
So much of the last year was spent asking myself “Why?” Before I bought a shirt, made dinner plans, opened Instagram, or booked a flight, I hit myself with that three letter word, followed by my own version of Vogue’s 73 Questions. In the beginning, it was so much harder to answer and fight against the very prominent, very impulsive part of my mind. Lately, it’s gotten easier, but it still feels like my mind is operating on an overloaded hard drive.
By the time I finally listened to “Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party,” it was almost four months after its August release. I was on a bus from Hoboken to Manhattan, via the Lincoln Tunnel. I slid under the Hudson River that morning to cross New Jersey off of my list, and try taylor ham. This NYC trip was not like the others, but my constant side quests made it feel like mine just the same. A window seat in a new place, leftover food in my tote, tiny Beats shoved into my ears, playing catch up on new music. My sister-in-law and brother were playing tourist somewhere else; I was cosplaying as myself.
The album, enjoyable throughout, made me pause when “Discovery Channel” came on. While the verses tell a completely different story, it interlopes the chorus from “The Bad Touch.” I hummed the tune, but where Hayley Willliams sounds out a hiss between teeth, I filled in the spot where the original words should be: “do it again now.” It came out like a reflex, embedded from my recent hyperfixation, a little mantra that I’ve come to love.
Because my birthday is in October, I often approach January with a narrowed sense of my new year goals. I had successfully reflected with age for the last three months, neatly ramping up to the Gregorian calendar’s concept of time. 2026 arrived as a borderline irritation for the peripatetic life that I thought I wanted. It was clear I developed a strong sense of jealousy for almost everything, along with a lack of object permanence. It’s not that I’m not grateful - it’s that I’m greedy. To combat it, I decided to start the new year by taking stock, and fight the battle of patience that I’m so prone to losing.
When my bus arrived at Port Authority, I braced myself for the chaos that is the Times Square - 42nd Street subway station. It’s the last place I wanted to pass through, desperately searching for the 2. Clear signage spat me into a long stretch of hallway that I tackled at my usual transit pace. There were words on the beams above me, spelling out some sort of message. None of them were important enough to slow me, so I kept going, and going, until the last one glared at me.
Do it again.
Do you ever walk so steadily that you feel like a car on the freeway? Unable to stop, a side eye out the window in a subtle rubberneck? That’s what that felt like. My head was trying to spin around, but my legs were on their own journey. Out of all the words to see. I had to be hallucinating. I debated on turning around to take a photo, as proof that I’m not insane. But you know what they say about insanity (doing the same thing again and again).
My dad worked as a Rite Aid manager, so I picture the phrase “taking stock” quite literally. Looking at all the items that I’ve obtained, sorting them, pricing them. I’ve got an uncontrollable desire to do that for my entire life. I’m generally overwhelmed by the physical stuff that surrounds me. Mountains of clothes collected over the years. Seventy thousand photos on my phone. So many hair products for someone who is generally bad at doing their hair. And the emotional things, too.
I have gotten to a moment in my life that I really like, completely transformed from how I used to live. Nothing is as planned out, with broad strokes of ideas rather than specific items to accomplish. It’s similar to how I was living while travelling, except I don’t need to constantly refill my toiletry bag.
That mindset from last year, chasing joy, worked out so well for me, and instead of the next best thing, I think I want to sit with it. Being intentional with what I want. Asking myself the questions I don’t want to hear. Taking the time whenever I can. Simply put: by doing it all again.
The next morning, I sat alone at Davelle’s counter, a tiny spot in the Lower East Side, watching the trees through the window. When I was here in November 2024, the leaves were barely turning - we had to trudge deep into Prospect Park to see them. Now, in November 2025, the oranges and browns were everywhere. I thought of the phrase I saw all over Thailand: same same, but different. The only sound in the cafe was the scraping of a jammy spoon against toasted bread - my order being prepared.
Naturally, I saw the toast on TikTok. The berry cream cheese pattern was so soothing to look at online, and when it was placed in front of me, I was mesmerized. The calming repetition I no longer had an aversion to. How I wanted my life to look like, personified. I could hear the line being sung in my head. With my fork and knife, I took a bite.
I used to think “Wow, another year of the same? How dull.” A lesson I learned from changing my life? There’s a lot of it that will be so tedious and boring, but well worth the hassle. And honestly? I’m looking forward to it.
Actual Logistics for Those Inclined
I do not function well without goals, as arbitrary or indirect as they may be. But at the same time, the more specific a goal is (like read X number of books a year), I feel more reluctant to do it. I have some hard and fast rules, but most of my interests are in one big bucket. My main goal is to touch everything in that bucket as often as I can! While some specifics are new, it’s not really that different from what I’ve been doing. Think Arial Regular vs Arial Black. And I’m writing it here so if I’m ever sitting on my sofa with no idea what to do, I can remind myself!
Interested in:
Architecture Tours / Camping / Decluttering & Downsizing / Film Photography / Hiking / Learning Spanish / Meandering / National & State (& regular) Parks / Playing Chess / Pilates / Reading / Roller Blading & Skating / Volunteering / Writing
My 2025 Guidelines Continued
No alcohol for a year (started in October, on my birthday).
No concerts over $100 and/or for someone I’ve already seen.
Write one newsletter a month.
Walk + New Album
Closet cleanout + Depop
My Added 2026 Guidelines
Limit drives out to LA, ideally only once a month.
Daily photo clearout.
Limit social media to train commuting time (god, this one is so tough).
No Buy Year
Elaboration of the No Buy Year
When I say that I’m doing this, I get a lot of reactions in shock, thinking I’m not going to buy anything. Doing a No Buy Year is focusing on avoiding non-essential purchases. For me, this looks like clothes, beauty products, knickknacks, home decor, etc. I’ve done this once before and was more flexible, allowing purchases to replace specific items. This time I’m waiting out for longer, giving myself days to think about a purchase. I liked this Reddit post with green/yellow/red days, and will follow that format!
Other 2026 Notes
I took time reflecting to write this, and then pulled my tarot to see how it aligns (rather well). My colors of the year are leaning sky blue and bright orange. I started Problem Solving Therapy; fingers crossed that it’s the right fit for me. I will always link my New Years playlist but this is what my last quarter sounded like.
