One Word, One Year (2026)

Never Have I Ever played Truth or Dare at a sleepover.

While I was never offered the privilege, I strongly doubt anyone likes playing Truth or Dare.

Who desires to divulge late-night confessions like an AA meeting? Who envisions their reckless spontaneity to be diluted into a this-or-that icebreaker? Are roundtable interrogations and perverted improv games at the bedrock of bedtime shenanigans?

At least Spin the Bottle is forward about its intentions...

No one enjoys playing Truth or Dare... yet guests feel obligated to play. 'Cause that's just what you do at a sleepover.

New Year's Resolutions are the adult version of sleepover dares.

People only commit to these activities because of situational pressure. But rather than adolescent arousal, resolutions are emboldened by the holiday zeitgeist.

We are more committed to selling self-improvement than we are at self-improving. We buy this advertised renewal. We treat subscriptions and self-help books like fertilizer on a barren wasteland. All while nature reverts to hibernation and decay.

These outside forces may prompt you to drink more water or write more consistently, but these vows are non-binding and undisciplined. These promises pass through our minds easier than African countries.

New Year's Resolutions are corporate and tacky.

Kristen Balyeat offers an revision.

Pipe dreams are rarely realized. Such fulfillment requires coordination, execution, and dedication far too tiresome to routinely manage. Adverse to our wishful thinking, Balyeat lowers expectations to an easier target.

I do, however, in the spirit of turning over a new calendar year, love to pick a single word—an overarching theme to set the tone for the type of year I want to have.

I vastly prefer this method. The single-word approach untethers us from a narrowed task and asks us to focus on a general aspiration. Our chosen word is not an anchor, but a guiding star illuminating the path towards our desired future.

Our one-word theme provides flexibility. We are not beholden to specific activities like hour-long practices, scheduling, or dieting. Words like sacrifice, serenity, savor, and clarity are applicable in every situation. We attempt to engage with our words whenever we can.

When the year concludes, we do not judge ourselves on success and failure. We do not shame ourselves from straying from our starlight.

Rather, we contemplate our word.

When did we fulfill our word? When did we fall short? What did we learn about our word? What did we learn about ourselves? How has observing our word helped us grow?

I employed this single-word resolution for the past two years. 2024 was My Year of Courage and 2025 was My Year of Enjoy.

For 2026, the word quickly settled. Almost magnetic in its assertion.

2026 is My Year of Preserve.

I hate taking pictures on vacation.

Posing in front of the Eiffel Tower or the Merlion feels like an invasion. Even when my tourism supports their local economy, I can't help but feel culturally inept. Like my camera is seizing foreign property as a souvenir.

Perhaps a tourist selfie is not a Sharpie declaration of "I was here" but a desperate plea of "I was happy."

Look at where my wealth got me! I escaped the potholes, the Google Calendars, the 5 o'clock evening news, the tear gas and pepper spray, and my grease-stained microwave! Look at how one picture erases what took the world x amount of years to create!

Most relevantly, taking photos distracts us from the experience. I adore the spontaneity of travel, the excitement of exploration, the kaleidoscope of culture flooding my sensibilities and stirring my curiosities.

Frequent interruptions of forced smiles disrupt the natural flow of sightseeing. These photoshoots nerf a once open-ended adventure into a performative walkthrough. I would rather savor my first-person journey than reminisce through third-person graphics.

My parents insist on documenting every landmark, every spectacle, every experience. From adjusting the angle to positioning the lighting, my parents are masters at staging memories. These photos are treasured time capsules that will reinvigorate heartfelt moments years from now.

While the process is painstakingly picturesque, I understand their motives. Order and preparation are necessary for sustained enjoyment. I just prefer living in the moment over performing for the future.

I focus on the now. I perform whenever personally convenient. I pursue my passions. I complete my obligations. I smell the roses if they come by.

Parents look ahead. Internships, interviews, loan payments, appointments, the next load of laundry. All necessary, all deadening.

Looking ahead is staring into a bottomless cavern. Falling into despair occurs nightly, especially when my future preparations follow the capitalistic formula. Selling myself for a financial future is soul-crushing. Writing my resumé feels like creating my dating profile for the devil.

Sink deeper into the chasm. An invasive ecosystem flourishes. Insecurity festers in the cracks. Joy sputters out. Questions about identity, morality, and value are constantly heckled by shame.

Why am I so bad at confrontation? Will I ever withdraw from my vices? What future do I deserve? What about me is worth preserving?

Self-preservation is so discouraging with a fragile or fluctuating self-worth. To preserve my future, I will try to confront my insecurities without spiraling or deflecting. I commit to loving and accepting myself more.

My self-preservation starts with basic needs. Flossing and applying lotion everyday. Washing my bedsheets regularly. Learning how to cook complex meals. Reducing the excessive headphone volume usage notifications.

Larger preparations require the courage to ask for help. Such vulnerability and uncertainty is paralyzingly daunting, but weathering the storm should be easier with my trusted loved ones and friends at my side.

Preservation is present in my writing. As with vacation photos, these published stories are time capsules that portray my personality and passions throughout the year. My hope is that these articles create an archive of arguments, anecdotes, and critiques that can transport anyone into my madcap universe.

The author is nothing without their subject. Beyond my own story, I desire to preserve other perspectives and discoveries. I want to talk with more people, challenge stigmas, and break social barriers. I want to highlight humanity and preserve its fruits.

Whenever I write, I seek thought and depth. Whether its my deep dive into climate refugees or my ongoing Sabrina Carpenter series, I want to diligently research and write about these subjects. These stories deserve to be shared, to be discussed, to be preserved.

I enjoyed last year. I connected more with my humanity. I created projects for my own intrigue and satisfaction. I discovered new fixations and revisited childhood pastimes. I gleefully cackled at terrible music and ridiculous fanfics. I even made a bunch of amateur mashups cuz lol.

Enjoyment was the sound. This year, preservation is the tone.