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year in the rearview (not your average year in review)

year in the rearview (not your average year in review)

a very Babe look at 2025—complete with random gifs, esoteric references, uncontextualized quotes, and half-baked thoughts on building shit in public

Laura Winberry
December 30, 2025 • Estimated Reading Time: 10 minutes

gm and welcome to issue 50 (holy shit). Um, there are 52 weeks in a year, so that means in two weeks this newsletter will be one whole year old. The Obama gif below expresses how this makes me feel.

As always, THANK YOU for being here. And please, feel free to share this newsletter with anyone else you think should be here too. It helps keeps the lights on. (Not really, I just like how dramatic and Dickensian that sounds.)

Last week I wrote about the unhealthy/healthy motivator called “wanting to proving others wrong,” why it isn’t naïve to want a world that doesn’t chew people up, and the things I both did and did not change my mind about in 2025.

This week I’m looking back at some of the chicanery that’s brought me to where I am now, including writing about prompt engineering and astrology in Babe’s first-ever issue (the hardest soft launch on the internet). Claude and Deepseek sliding into one another’s DMs. Skeuomorphism. My pivot from weekly web3, DeFi, and crypto learnings to Babe’s current and most personally resonant iteration: vibe-coding an app, building something out of nothing, and writing about the unfolding of these things in realtime. And more.

It’s been a wild ride and, undoubtedly, will continue to be one. Onward into the mess.

have you read Michelle Obama’s first memoir yet? it’s one of those rare books where listening to the audio version is just as good as, if not better, than reading the print one. also this is how a year of writing Babe makes me feel.

Objects in the rearview (some Babe things from 2025)

Here are two excerpts from issue one of Babe:

After too many hours spent staring at screens last week, I walked downtown to one of my favorite coffee spots. I had been so in it, and then—the imperfect unfolding of three-dimensional life outside and beyond this 15.4 inch screen kinda knocked me sideways.
The bars of sun and shadow on a bridge. The lone construction worker tethered into rebar (am I walking through an exhibit at The Whitney?). The seed-pod puffs catching light as they float off to create other worlds.

Babe’s inaugural issue

Maybe the real question isn't whether prompt engineering is just astrology for tech bros. Maybe it's about recognizing that humans will always create systems to understand forces beyond our control—whether those forces are planetary movements, what comes after life, or artificial intelligence.

And some thoughts on starting Babe in the first place: I’m glad I did it, and that I’m doing it, and that I get to write this thing every week—that it both began how it began, and that it’s morphed into what it is today. It couldn’t have happened any other way, and so it happened in the way it did. Imperfectly, full of profanity, and giving very few fucks about what it should sound like while still caring a whole lot about what it wants to be.

❝

“Looking at Pettit's photos from space, we see these human-made lights mixing with cosmic auroras and atmospherically filtered moonrises—our tiny attempts at brightness merging with the Universe's ancient glow.

And isn't that what we're maybe doing here, on earth? Trying to burn fucking bright (albeit briefly)—through the wind and the elements and the mess of life that never un-messes—while simultaneously wondering how to not burn it all down.”

- Me, Babe issue 5

Notes on skeuomorphism (plus everything informs everything else)

There was a Farcaster convo (that decentralized platform I’ve talked about before ) I had in June that really stuck with me—about how skeuomorphism seems "basic,” but less basic bitch, more basic human need. Like, we're talking fundamental cognitive psychology here. Users depend on elements and interfaces acting in ways that feel familiar, not because they're intellectually lazy, but because familiarity equals safety. And safety is a basic human need, right up there with food and shelter.

Fast forward to building an app and the brand around that app, and everything I’ve learned thus far has informed that building. Because that’s how life goes and shit is cumulative, in either a clarifying or burdening or growth-driving sort of way. And because everything informs everything else. Always It can’t not.

I know these statements aren’t revelatory or new. But they’re good to remember, and most often remembered when taking stock, so i’m sharing them here. For your benefit and mine.

throwback to Don Pettit's photos from the International Space Station

Always knock on the door (especially your own)—if no one answers, let yourself in

From issue 43:

“Going from cold outreach to a meeting to actually having to sell your vision—it's all the same muscle. Whether you're pitching yourself for a job or pitching your startup for funding, you're doing the same thing: convincing someone to bet on you and your plan instead of the safer, more traditional route.”

And:

“Knock on doors. Over and over again. Most won't open. Some will crack slightly. A few will swing wide open. You can't predict which is which, so you just keep fucking knocking. Or, open ‘em up and strut right in. They’ll either chase you out or say welcome, we’ve been waiting for you.

For fuck’s sake, knock on your own goddamn door. Create your own opportunities. Don't wait for someone to post the perfect job or send the perfect opportunity. Look at what exists and ask: how can I make this work for me in a way that’s beneficial for all?

Everything is practice. Every pitch, every cold email, every coffee meeting where you have to sell your vision—it's all training for the bigger thing you're building toward.

The hustle is the point. Not because grinding is noble or because rest isn't important. But because actively creating opportunities feels better than passively waiting for them. Also, as I’ve quoted before, nobody is coming to save you.”

holiday rain run

Other uncut gems from 2025

Clean your own damn toilet.

Setting boundaries is a privilege worth protecting. Not everyone can afford to say no to work that doesn't serve them. If you can, do it. And remember that not everyone has that option.

They were right about the buddy system.

Solo building is a misnomer. You can't actually do it alone. You need people to reflect things back to you, to remind you you're not delusional, to tell you when you're being too hard on yourself and laugh at/with you.

"Building in public" isn't just about transparency or marketing. It's about creating a network of people who can hold you when the work gets heavy.

Hustle is important. So is rest.

These might come off as super cheesy, but oh well.

The hustle is necessary, but it's not everything. You can't knock on doors forever without stopping to remember why you're knocking in the first place.
Rest is productive. Not in the capitalist sense of "recharging so you can work harder." But in the sense that being present and human and connected is the whole fucking point.

Dance is the answer. That feeling of being in a room full of people moving together to music, learning new combinations, sweating and hyping one another up and forgetting about apps and surveys and validation metrics for 90 minutes at a time is pure fucking gold.

When in doubt, dance it out.

That feeling of being in a room full of people moving together to music, learning new combinations, sweating and hyping one another up and forgetting about apps and surveys and validation metrics for 90 minutes at a time is pure fucking gold.

Dance is the answer. Full stop.

wherever tf you are, dance it out

That's issue 50 (!). Thanks for reading, and for being here all year long and being fucking fabulous. I mean it. I’ll see you on the dance floor of next week.

xoxo,

PS: Subscribe now if you're into this messy build-in-public energy. Miss the last issue? It’s right here. Also literally none of this is ever advice. I’m sharing what I learn through Babe, and perhaps you’ll learn from my mistakes. Hopefully, maybe, who knows, ily.