Public vulnerability is a skill that has atrophied as I’ve gotten older. While not quite like riding a bike, the rhythm is steeped in nostalgia. As I find my fearlessness again, bear with me.
At Least The Burnout Was Aesthetic
I know why I flopped in 2024, and there’s no one to blame but myself.
At the beginning of 2021, I had the job I’d wanted since graduation: I was a tech reporter working for a founding member of The Verge. The team Joshua Topolosky put together at Input Mag was the perfect mix of sharp, compassionate, and queer.
My pronouns and perspective were respected. I’d written an investigative piece that went so wide, three other outlets tried to poach me. I was freelancing for Thrillist, keeping a toe in the drinks and cannabis world. Our union had just been formally recognized. I had moved into the biggest place I’ve ever lived in as an adult with one of my partners.
I was miserable.
Stay safe, and learn your neighbor’s name!
Cheers,
Mx. J.