The 2023 Exit Interview
A list of what got me through the year or vignettes that will make sense of 2023 for my future self
1. Kimchi:
I have always loved the little side plate of kimchi that is offered at Korean restaurants. Earlier this year I made the mistake of discovering that Costco started stocking kimchi in their inventory. Since then, I have cycled through so many bottles that the jars themselves have become indispensable storage units in my apartment. Now, those jars house paintbrushes, coconut flakes, cocoa powder and snack clips.
Throughout my first semester, I continued to Google if I had an addiction to kimchi if I could finish a bottle in 2 days, if there were severe health consequences to that, and if there was any reason for possible reasons that could explain this addiction.
I have fallen so far down the kimchi rabbithole that I landed into the ocean. Wegman's stocks a brand of "sea-chi", in which the napa cabbage is replaced with kelp. It tastes like a jar of spicy ocean, and it has a bitter aftertaste. The iodine and sodium levels are off the charts. When the kelp wriggles about in my mouth, I remember that this is what whales eat. When I swallow the metallic salty tang of the ocean, I will reach for another jar of kimchi, this one from the shelves of H-mart. In my understanding and practice of spirituality, I have experienced the divine in a bowl of kimchi.
2. Kaiju movies:
If you've ever watched a movie where a giant monstrous creature goes mish mash on a heavily populated city, and the massive skyscrapers and bridges tumble as this huge force of destruction paws around, then you've watched a Kaiju movie. The genre started in Japan as a post-war response and a way to make psychic sense for the volume of destruction unleashed by the end of WWII. Godzilla is the true classic of this genre (and continues to be one of the largest, and growing, franchises in this domain).
There was a time when movies about big monsters used to terrify me. Since then, I have seen what horrors and violence humans inflict on each other, and those weren't even in fiction. Some people are drawn to Kaiju movies because the creatures decimate entire metropolises. This represents an opportunity to build new worlds from the steaming debris of what is. This year, I have seen a lot of steaming debris. Perhaps these movies do communicate hope in their own strange manner. The political messaging behind Godzilla (and it's genre of movies) is clear: a way for nature to respond to the violence that humans have committed against it, a righteous rebalancing of what is right.
Objectively, they are the perfect movie to have running in the background as you do whatever task it is that you need to do. The CGI does the entire labor of carrying the movie and the beasts. The characters are there to exposition and have meaningless dialog like "that cry means it's trying to establish dominance". There is operatic music and the sense that at the end the balance between nature and human beings have been momentarily restored, that for a moment, we can all know peace.
3. Working out:
It is deeply disgusting to admit that working out helps me manage my anxiety and my energy. In my understanding and practice of spirituality, I have found the God concept in many shapes, and one of them happens to be a bike machine.
4. Being "old":
Ever since I have turned 26, I have wished to be 30, and I am excited to escape this purgatory of youth in the next year. During my first semester in business school, I felt a deep gratitude that I was older. I had spent enough time in the world figuring out values important to me such that I would not fall to the vicissitudes of playing comparison and conformism games. I can't speak for other young people, but I was dangerously impressionable, and I'm glad that I have spent enough time solidifying my sense of self before I was exposed to the chaotic and sometimes alien environment of business school.
5. Writing:
This year, I have written 228 journal entries, 33 blog posts (including this one), two articles for a student-run magazine at Penn, and at least 4 important reports or significant papers for classes that matter. I had no publications, but I did have a previous work of non-fiction nominated for the Best American Science and Nature Writing anthology by Dodge Magazine.
My other significant achievement is actually disclosing this blog to my parents, who (I'm sort of surprised) are extremely supportive of this. With the exception of assignments, I have found that writing is how I process the world. If I don't get these thoughts out into the world in some way, they will simply eat me alive. I am not unfortunately the kimchi that I seek.
6. Accepting my stupidity:
Throughout this year, I have come to increasing awareness of my stupidity. In the beginning, this bothered me greatly. I tried to fight it with all my might. At that time, I would say I had perhaps three brain cells held together by microplastics and scotch tape.
Since the fight, one of my brain cells has gone on strike and attempted to unionize the others. This effort was quashed effectively by me, simply because I am an overthinking tyrant and I cannot live up to the label without expending useless energy. The third brain cell has since resigned and continues to float in the void while the other two toil extra to make up for the increasing labor I have forced upon them. Ultimately, we arrived at a stalemate as my physical body was approaching burnout. The terms of the treaty we have signed since then have asked to protect my remaining brain cells on conditional and fair usage of the third brain cell. I may be stupid, but even with me, there are revolutionaries.
7. That we get to 2024:
There are a lot of hopes riding on 2024. It will be my first complete year in business school. It will be the year I turn 30. It will be a year of a lot more writing (most of you are aware of Rachel Stone). As with the writing, I hope to be reading more. I did an informal breakdown of all the books I’d read this year on my instagram here. But a better review is on my goodreads (please add me, I would love to be friends).
I also intend to reckon with my fear of swimming. I hope to be dancing more. Perhaps 2024 is the year I truly comport myself with abs. Perhaps 2024 is the year I finally stop swearing as much. In some ways, I hesitate to state my expectations for 2024 aloud because placing so much on a humble Gregorian calendar year is a recipe for disappointment. The way I like to think of it is that 2023 has been an inward-focusing year, and I'm excited for 2024 to be a much more external-facing one. I hope to see you all in the sunshine.