NEW YEAR, NEW FLARE?
BY LIBBY DRISCOLL
Whether it’s my cognitive function beginning to buffer, or a repressed approach to the number I’ve reached, I’ve found myself having to think for a second when I’m asked for my age. For the first time in my life, it has left the tip of my tongue and settled comfortably in the pit of my belly, nudging and sinking further each time it returns from a visit to my lips.
I’m not one for New Year resolutions and never have been. The idea of beginning new habits and routines in the dead of winter is a little absurd and goes against nature - this is our time to reflect inward and rest. I have, however, pledged to do something of importance at least once a month since last year. The definition I place on ‘importance’ is admittedly quite loose, but the idea of gifting each month with its own individual significance is enough to satiate my innate desire to give everything meaning.
This decision (not resolution) stemmed in December of 2023. I sat in a pub with two of my close friends and with pints in hand we reflected on the year just passed. As we crossed off each month I had the harrowing realisation that I’d actually done jack shit that year. Whilst leaving a relationship and moving into my first apartment were still decent achievements, I still just felt like I hadn’t done anything of importance. There were no stories written that I’d want to carry through to the existence of my children nor many experiences that my older self would look fondly back on and wish to relive… just nothing.
As anyone in their twenties, or anyone who has experienced their twenties will know, the panic of making each day count is a futile kind of pressure. For women especially who grew up in an era of chick-flicks and patriarchal beauty standards that deemed us dead and gone at thirty (and whilst logically we know it isn’t the case) the imprint of a pseudo-social death still.. y’know, looms.
With the pandemic also taking two years from us, it’s no surprise that we’re experiencing a warped feeling around age. A whole fifth of the decade was placed on pause, so how were we ever going to navigate things ‘normally’? As I’m leaning slightly closer to thirty now, I’ve felt guilty about not staying out until the early hours of the morning and opting for quiet afternoon pints instead, almost like it’s an attack on my sprightly years that I’ll later regret. But then, when did I decide to live for an older, bitter version of myself that doesn’t even exist?
It’s tricky to admit defeat to change, especially when it’s tied to a chapter of youth ending. But my god, isn’t it romantic to find as much joy in the bottom of a single glass of wine and a pasta dish shared with friends around a kitchen table? And isn’t it completely absurd to be fearing age this much when we’re still so young?
Life happens so subtly that in the panic of, ‘how do I make my life count?!’, we glide through the doors that we so desperately used to claw at. Yes, I might have swapped drugs for Celestial Sleepy Teas and can’t remember the last time I stayed out past midnight, but why can’t simplicity be significant?
In a Western world ruled by capitalism and consumerism, levels of success will of course hugely differ from person to person. Whilst I don’t have a mortgage, a car or a dog (yet), I have almost everything my past self ever could have dreamed of, really. Abundance becomes buying the 75p spirali pasta instead of budgeting for the 24p penne. It’s waking up in the arms of my partner, and coming home to Aimée and sharing my day with her. It’s having a home with enough space to share food and wine with other beautiful beings. It’s creating art and music and making memories worth recording in a journal to share with my future children. Abundance is to happily settle into positive change and knowing it’s the right thing to do.
So, to circle back to my original point of doing one significant thing each month, this leads us to the new era of FLARE. Over four years on, and after hundreds of music reviews, countless gigs and three wonderful showcases, like life itself, the direction of FLARE is changing.
I’m eternally grateful to every musician who has shared their art with me and our numerous contributors. Without you, this little zine would never have made it off the ground. As a musician myself, music will always take up a huge space in my heart, but it feels like the right time to evolve FLARE into something new. Instead of focusing on music reviews, the magazine will now be a hub for creative writers, authors, poets and artists to share their work with the world.
The mag content will still work on a submission-based system, so if you have any pieces you would like to contribute and feature in FLARE, please check out our submissions page here. We’ll also be looking to host another event in the near future, so do keep an eye on our socials in the coming months.
Thank you to all the FLARE readers who have joined us so far - once again, I am eternally grateful.
Well, at least that’s January’s significance ticked off the list.