A Midnight Intro

Introductions used to be my jam.

I've been christening creative spaces across the digital realm since before Instagram filters were a twinkle in Kevin Systrom's eye. From the community and poetry haven of LiveJournal to the culinary goddesses curating your favorite forever recipes on Blogger and let's not forget our coming-of-age saga on Tumblr (cue the soft grunge aesthetics and obscure song lyrics).

Those were the days.

Finding your tribe in the comments section, forging friendships over kindred obsessions, and occasionally jet-setting across the globe to meet your internet besties IRL. Yes, we did that.

There was even a boy, that one time.

While times have changed, we shouldn’t expect to be able to recreate that exact magic on a platform like Substack. However, Dare I say; we're crafting a sort of Third Space – not quite work, not quite home, but a cozy nook where ideas percolate and friendships bloom to create the perfect brew. It's where we can close the metaphorical door and be ourselves, share our stories, and maybe recreate a slice of those early days. When we were watching GIRLS with our roommates over bowls of chicken tikka masala, and opening our second bottle of $2 Buck Chuck pinot.

Suddenly, everything's different. There you are, face-to-face with your bathroom mirror, channeling your inner MacGyver as you contemplate using a bobby pin to prop up your suddenly droopy eyelid.

Remember when you'd forget your age and have to do that quick mental math? Now your body keeps a running tally, gleefully pinging you with updates like the world's least fun Tamagotchi. "You're 37!" it screams, usually right after you've attempted to touch your toes or considered staying out past 10 PM on a weeknight.

That life you sketched out in your Lisa Frank notebook? It's gathering dust. And you know what? That’s ok.

Remember when we thought our loved ones were invincible? Life had other plans, and we've learned to cherish memories. That solo silhouette in the mirror where you once imagined a partner? It's not a void—it's a canvas you've painted with experiences, strength, and a hint of wine stains.

And let's talk about that self-love journey. It wasn't an express train; it was more like trying to download a song with dial-up internet. But look at you, you've arrived. That reflection staring back at you? Masterpieces took time to create, and they were worth every brushstroke.

You've bloomed later than expected? Your growth wasn't delayed—it was curated. Every 'no,' every detour, every ugly cry in your car belting Alanis Morissette—it's all led to this moment.

So here's to us— to the ones who rewrote the script. Pour yourself something cozy or strong (this is a judgment-free zone) adjust your blue light glasses, and let's dive into this newsletter together. This is a place for those journeys taken and the ones to come, a space to keep creatively accountable and tuck into the occasional midnight treat.

Welcome to Midnight Marmalade, thanks for being here.