For the past fifteen years, I’ve ended the year with a reread of Jacques Derrida’s Aporias. In 2010, I had borrowed the book from the University of Queensland’s Social Sciences and Humanities library which I haunted like the bookish postgraduate ghoul that I was, particularly the philosophy and Gothic aisle. It was a relatively thin book so I added it to my pile of NYE reads at breakneck speed — a yearly tradition in my world — along with LeGuin’s The Lathe of Heaven. I’d been on a journey of discovery with both Derrida and the duo of Deleuze & Guattari that year with many thanks to a philosophy reading group I’d been attending with invigorating discussions and arguments which had me wanting to know more. I picked up Aporias and I’m not going to lie: my first read was a very confused read. Nevertheless, some things did impress upon me so much that it’s become my yearly touchstone. In 2010, I needed Aporias before I knew I needed it. It helped me make sense of the senseless and the unknowable. It help me make sense of the trauma in my life. It became a way of understanding (or not understanding because who understands the unknowable) better – not just the text, but me the person: the person that I was, and the person that I wanted to be. In a sense, you could say that Aporias has become a dear friend that I spend time with once a year (with several catch-ups throughout the year when I’m working on something Derridean. An intellectual as well as personal touchstone).
Aporias is mainly Derrida talking about Death and notions he’s circled around in most of his most known texts – the impossibility of knowing the unknowable, of stepping through thresholds, of the foreigner and hospitality towards the foreigner/guest/unknowable. Some of these ideas are lynchpins in his Specters of Marx and of hauntology in general. I’d come back to the text with a sort of “hello, what’s up, let’s see what I’ll uncover this year” kind of feeling. Last year I started the draft of an academic article related to a thought (I’ve included Aporias in at least one of my previously published hauntological articles). Lately, I’ve really enjoyed translating the bits of French and Latin in it now that I am slightly more proficient in both.
Mostly, the text speaks to my ontological ramblings and permutations; my own questions about consciousness, the unknown and what it means to be dead. But I also circle back to the thought that New Year’s Eve is awaiting the death of an old year, to await the arrival of the New. And in that threshold is a temporal aporias. Of course we know these dates are arbitrary. It is only the death of the year as we know it in the Gregorian calendar and what is one day to the next anyway? But it’s the most commonly used demarcation of time set in intervals of days, weeks, months. Our work schedules, our holidays, our public holidays and various rituals are set to this calendar (even if there are overlaps with other calendars: Muslim, Chinese, Tamil etc).
2026 is unknowable and out of our control. Sure we can make plans, spreadsheets, checklists but from one year to the next we keep hoping “may next year be better” and for many, each year becomes a kind of temporal betrayal. I’m not sure 2026 will be brilliant or better for me. I do know that I intend to work very hard but also relatively smart. I know I want to take better care of my health, my focus and my quality of life. I also know certain things need to change in order to do so. Mostly in regards to my online life and how I engage. I hope this post serves as some indication of the change that is going to be happening on my blogs in 2026. I’ll probably be blogging more but certain kinds of posts will not be happening. I removed the accountability and checklists posts because nobody needs to see those things and I can motivate myself just as well with private accountability entries on physical journals. And I’m not going to list my accomplishments of the year etc because those things only make people feel bad and cause me anxiety to share. Instead I’ll tell you that my main accomplishment of 2025 is that I survived, with improved mental health and with a focus/clarity I hope to bring into the new year. I’ll still be around but the ways in which I engage on social media, and the ways in which I will express myself on these blogs will change. I’m excited for that change albeit apprehensive about the unknowable.
Whatever and however you celebrate, have a happy new year. Be kind to yourselves and nurture your own accomplishments and successes with the pride they deserve. Hold close to the things and people who are dear to you, and be happy!
Warm Wishes,
Anita