Braun & Brains

How to Remember Everything You Consume

We all have a graveyard of things we found interesting and lost…

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9 days ago · 5 likes · Rachel Braun

I was inspired to create a creative system for documenting media after watching this video by Mickey Galvin. I highly recommend checking it out.

I hesitate to call any of what I want to track “content” for this project because that feels trite and lackluster. What I am looking at is anything deeper than surface level “content”. Books, movies, more fleshed out ideas, or things that make my gears turn even if the subject is something vapid. I am in a world where short form videos wash over me like a shower with very good water pressure. They move fast and it feels good, but it’s no soak. It’s not sitting in an Epsom salt bath and marinating. You know what I mean. When you watch a movie and it stays with you for days. When you see a tweet and reference it for the next year. I think I come across ideas like that more than I realize and the fact that I’m not sitting with them is making them forgettable, and in turn making other things forgettable.

To keep it simple, the more experiences you have and see, the less boring you are (like I mentioned before here) and the more you deeply understand other things. This gives you a rounder, more encompassing understanding of yourself and your world as a whole. Things make more sense the more you take in and relate. As you do this, you start seeing what other experiences or information you need to have to fill out your web of understanding.

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As I explain in the other post, elaborative encoding is when your brain stores new information by relating it to something you already know. The more connections a piece of information has, the more paths your brain has to reach it later. More connections = more likely to remember. A good tip for this in practice is when someone tells you their name, try to relate it to something else that you know so you’re more likely to remember it the next time you hang out, or even later that night if you’re like me and forget names quite often. If you watch something and quickly scroll past it and don’t give your brain a second to sit there and relate it to something else, that information is more likely to go by the wayside, flowing right in one ear and right out the other. After you read a book, write a thoughtful review and try to connect it to other things in life. Same with movies. If you hear about a new concept, try to think about what it looks like in practice. Try to make a web of your life.

I am documenting what I find interesting with a Notion database and in the newsletter, I put behind a paywall how I made a shortcut automation on my phone and MacBook to send links to it every time I see something interesting. In reality, you can make a Google Sheet and track all of this too, or even a notes app on your phone. All of those are free (except for the newsletter paywall). I think it’s important not to make it in one social media app, like a folder on TikTok or saving on Twitter or a book on Goodreads, because you want to see all the ideas in one place. Of course, link your Goodreads reviews and your TikTok responses, but it’s really interesting seeing it all written out in one place. Whatever system works for you, do it.

I am going to track everything I consume for the month of July, and if it goes well, I will let you know.

I would love to know if you have a creative system and what that looks like. I am always around, send me a message or shoot me an email.

Have goals, have dreams, and try to reach them. Go do something even if it’s bad. We are being force-fed “slow living” propaganda and other media that tries to tell people that living a life that lacks anything that isn’t extreme comfort is enjoyable, when in fact it is the death of what makes us human. Stop trying to make every single part of your life “cozy” and do something.

I am not advising any extremes, but a healthy dose of curiosity that’s acted upon will make you feel more awake than any amount of rest days ever could. You can gain new perspectives, have something to talk about, expand your own views, and get to know yourself in a way that a life full of bumper lanes doesn’t allow. You can become interested in new things, which in turn will make you more interesting.

Living your life shows that you respect yourself and the limited time granted to us on earth.

Having the audacity to be confident in who you are, flawed and all, helps make life so much easier to explore. Going through the processes of becoming confident isn’t a vanity project, it’s a stepping stone to get the most of your experiences.

I’m not implying you have to travel the world and leave your job. You can stay right where you are for now if you need. Of course, if you can, travel and see the world and leave your job, that’s great, but at the minimum take full advantage of what your situation has to offer. I know not every life has endless and easy opportunities to end boredom, but a lack of ease is not an excuse. If you work all the time, change what you are listening to on your commute. Make it interesting, learn something. If I lived in bumblefuck, close to where I attended college, I would probably get chickens and learn to knit them sweaters. That’s what my grandma has done, who lives just north of bumblefuck. If you live at home with your parents and are laid off, that is the perfect time to get a library card.

Test out different ways of life and try things. Become vegan. Get really into the local choir. Watch movies from different countries, read news outlets from places you’ve never heard of, listen to music that no one else in your circle has heard before. Go out of your way to seek discomfort. When that all fails, start making those chicken sweaters and mail them to someone who owns chickens.

That is what makes a full life. That is what kills boring.

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Just a year and a half ago, I knew those streets like the back of my hand. What do I have now to show for it? If someone asked me where to go, I’d probably stammer and send them a Google Map I made of half-hearted recommendations that I started building and then forgot about.

I want to remember all the little spots I liked, from the pharmacy I went to, to the grocery store I liked for prepackaged sushi.

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So here, I am dropping my favorite spots off the Graham stop so I don’t forget. East Williamsburg is an awesome place, and the Graham stop alone has some fabulous places to shop, work from, eat at, and more.

I am not including bars because that alone would be its own newsletter. I also think that for a future newsletter, I could extend past this subway stop and create a thrift shop and boutique crawl. Stay tuned.

If you want to explore a new part of the city, or if you are looking for recommendations in the area as a resident, I hope you find this helpful. I am sure I missed many things, but I wanted to brain dump as much as I could now.

If you have anything you’d like to add, drop it in the comments so everyone else can see.

Enjoy, and let me know if you ever make your way to the area!

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The Graham L Guide: Food, Coffee, Shopping, and Errands

Food

• Fortunato Brothers: Italian bakery and gelato.

• Levantine: Fabulous Middle Eastern and Mediterranean food with vegetarian options, if you need them. One of my favorites.

• Simply Nova: Great fancier deli with smoked salmon and caviar.

• Anthony & Sons: Big-ass sandwiches.

• Balera: New date night spot! Italian food and wine.

• La Locanda: Family friendly Italian spot, cozy and authentic.

• Cozy Royale: Great burgers and phenomenal salads.

• Grass Roots Juicery: Smoothies, shakes, and bowls. Health food store too!

• Emily’s Pork Store: Good for picking up things for a charcuterie board.

• The Meat Hook: Good for burgers and brats. Same team as Cozy Royale.

• Good Thanks: Brunch that allows laptops.

• Uncle Louie G: Ice cream and shaved ice. Yes, they have soft serve.

• Mt. Fuji Market: Small Japanese grocery store with a good sushi deal.

• Carmine’s: Pizza, and a bar. Sue me!

Cafes

• As You Like: Love their matcha.

• Hungry Ghost: Great cafe but sometimes their wifi isn’t the best.

• Here BK: Coffee/bar.

• Land to Sea: Chinese coffee shop with really good pastries.

• Lella Alimentari: More of a little light lunch spot than a place I would work.

• Daytime: A very LGBTQ supportive coffee shop.

• Ringolevio: Attatched to Four Five Six, great cafe/bar. Inside is dark but nice outdoor seating.

• Variety: Basically my office. A coffee shop with a good latte and seats that face the window.

Shopping

• Bunny’s Vintage: Very well curated clothing.

• Artist & Craftsman Supply Williamsburg: Great craft store.

• Vaux: Reasonably priced and high quality finds.

• Farfalla Vintage: Cool if you like ’80s vintage.

• Nomia: Very chic boutique. I love their jewelry. A bit expensive.

• Leif: One of my favorite boutiques in the city, also has some home goods.

• The Shop by Calhoun & Co.: Home goods and kids’ items. Great for gifts.

• Casa Ziki: Beautiful home goods and some jewelry. A bit expensive.

Practical Errands

• Rosehip Social Florist: Flower and plant store, great vibes.

• NYC Pet: Solid pet store with lots of options.

• City Chemist: Upscale pharmacy with fancier hair and skin products.

• Saldo Drugs: This pharmacy has a printer, which they barley advertise.

• Super 99 Cents: The only discount store you will need.

• Lemon Tree: The best bodega for groceries, but not a grocery store.

Whenever we moved as kids, which was very often, my Mom would tell us, “You can pack a home up in boxes; you just need to find a house to put it in,” which I now believe to be partially correct. My family, my people, are what make someplace home.

A kitchen where my Mom is cooking, a chair where my Dad is napping, a basement where I hear my brothers playing video games, and a dinner table where my sister and I are making a mess with beads or clay with her iPad propped up watching reruns while she tells me what it’s like being younger and cooler than I will ever be. The door is never locked and we almost always have a guest, because our home feels like a home to all. At night, we sit in the living room and watch the nightly news on NBC followed by an episode of The Big Bang Theory. We’ve seen every episode so many times, I think we should be compensated personally. Half of our inside jokes are Big Bang Theory lines, equal parts cringe and sweet.

The house in Maryland is, by far, the largest house I have ever lived in. Growing up, I was used to tight quarters, shoving all my things into crevices in my bedroom to make it all fit, which turned out to be a blessing of a skill when I moved to the city. I didn’t mind it at all growing up; as the oldest, I got my own room, and we all hung out in the common space anyway, since our bedrooms were the size of Coke cans. At one point, while I was living in Stuy Town, I realized my closet was about the same size as some of the rooms I lived in growing up.

Spending time in close quarters gave me a better appreciation for apartment life than many of my peers have. I don’t yearn as much as they do for an office, a guest room, or other pleasures of a larger apartment or a suburban home. The feeling of home doesn’t just exist within the confines of a house; it can be outside, too. Those things would be nice, but I know I don’t need them to have a home.

I feel lucky that I grew up in tight spaces that created tight relationships.

I feel lucky I never left home because I was running away, but because I was told that no matter what, I would always have a home to come back to.

I feel lucky that I grew up with the utmost support. My family never told me I had to go to college or had to move out of my home. I could have told my parents I was joining the circus to train squirrels, that I identified as the color purple, that I’d changed my name to Miss Bucket Potty Pants, and that I needed to train the aforementioned squirrels in our basement. They would be okay with it, would help me build a purple squirrel circus setup in the basement, and would support me as long as I had a plan. That’s what a home is. That’s what a home does.

All of this makes it much harder to leave, wherever that may be, and come back to my apartment, which doesn’t feel like home because my people aren’t there. I like the little life I made here in my one-bed railroad, but I wonder how long it takes for a house to start feeling like a home after all the boxes are unpacked, the kitchen is set up, the chairs are in place, the table is covered in beads, a video game console is purchased, and the nightly news plays.

Every time I go back home and see how much I’ve missed, it makes me want to go back. This pain is the sweetest gift.

I hope one day I can make a house feel like home for someone just by being inside, and I hope it’s just as hard for them to leave.

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Photos from my weekend at home:

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As says, “we live in a city where being at the right place on the right night is everything.” I believe in this statement with my full chest.

When you first get to New York City, it’s hard to know if you are ever in the right place. Knowing you are at the right place, and being invited to the right place, takes reps, like most things in life. I would advise you to not knock anything until you try it. The more you go to, the more you will be invited out. If you are considering not attending something because it might “not be your thing,” remember that saying no to that event means saying no to three others that could come from it.

And yes, you should go even if it means going alone.

I don’t feel pity for those who mope in their apartments after ditching plans because their only option was to show up stag.

Some places I have gone solo to:

• A lot of parties, industry gatherings, and dinners

• A presentation on the reindeer situation in Finland (there is so much to get into with this, that’s another newsletter) hosted by the Scandinavia House

  

• A showcase that shows you the process of knitting a sweater ethically, from shearing the sheep to dyeing the wool with beets and everything else.

• The Italian festival (both in Brooklyn and Manhattan)

• Almost anything I see on a flyer that doesn’t scream “bait for human trafficking”

• The country of Finland for my first (but not last!) international solo trip (I did not see any reindeer)

• Cold plunge get-togethers (I don’t even like cold plunging that much but I really like the kinds of people who go to this kind of thing so I show up anyway)

Now that we got that out of the way, I have something to admit... I was a moper recently. Even as a seasoned professional, it’s been harder to attend events alone.

Something must have happened this winter in my hibernation state. It wasn't like this last summer, or the summer before that, or even the summer before that. The below-average temperatures must have been perfect breeding grounds for awkward teenager feelings to fester.

It started with Adam Faze’s birthday party a few weeks ago. It was a cool party at Night Moves, the speakeasy vinyl dance club connected to Michelin-starred restaurant The Four Horsemen, owned by James Murphy, frontman of the band LCD Soundsystem. While James wasn’t in attendance, it seemed like everyone who is anyone was. No phones were allowed, très chic! What wasn’t très chic was that I committed an immediate party faux pas by showing up incredibly on time.

I was so on time that I was the first one there. *Gasp*

Lucky enough, the second person through the door was comedian Michael Abber.

Along with being funny, he was a fabulous person to be sitting in an empty bar with for thirty minutes until others walked through the door. Once the room started filling up, he introduced me to his friends, one of whom was Sexy Damion, who was from Colorado but has never gone skiing. They were fun. I also met the artist Rex DeTiger (stream Whisper!!) who was kind and chatted with me while I hung out by the water cups. I felt annoying to them all and over hydrated. I didn’t want them to think I was leeching off their presence.

It also was the first time I ever questioned why anyone would talk to me. Everyone there was far cooler than me and, as all cool people do, they knew each other. This realization, even if the situation that brought it on had happened before, has literally never once crossed my mind except for maybe Greek life parties my freshman year of college, but I hardly remember those, as there were no water cups.

Everyone at Adam’s was having a good night with their cool friends and doing cool jobs with cooler conversation topics that did not involve the reindeer or Finland or cold plunges or the Italian Festival. Everyone branded themselves as a multifaceted creative while I felt like I was grasping at straws with the fact that I produced technology podcasts for a living, podcasts I wasn’t even on hosted by people I didn’t really know.

Normally at birthday parties, work doesn’t come up, but when you are an artist like so many of them were, it seeps into conversation because it is your soul, your reason to live. Tech podcasts are not my soul. They are my income. Which is deeply uncool to creatives. I kept my mouth shut about that and tried to take a fly on the wall approach which ended up making me feel like a creepy eavesdropper.

I left the party feeling a little slinky-like. I danced for a bit, and was ever so thankful for my new acquaintances Rex, Sexy Damion, and Michael the comedian. I don’t know how I would have survived the night without them. I think the only one of them who would remember me is Michael, and that is only because the lights were still on at the bar when we arrived too early.

They were all polite. It was my headspace that was the problem. My insecurity stemmed from caring too much about myself and who I wasn't while being in a crowded room, a recipe for disaster. When you care too much about yourself you forget how to be present. Looking back at it all, I could have easily shifted my attention outside of my body, but I just felt so stuck in it.

I know that if you were invited to something, there is a reason you should be there, if not for any reason other than fate.

That fate ended up being Michael, because although I was out of town for this last one he invited me to his comedy show and I have been wanting to go to more comedy shows, especially in Brooklyn. The next show I am in town for, I am determined to show up to very much on time.

A few days ago, I decided that I had to do two things:

1. Start embracing my creativity, because that is why I found all those people at the birthday party cool

2. Shake the feeling of being a mopey fly on the wall and get over myself

I marched in my little pink heels and pleated pants right up to the door of Boom at the Standard for ’s Come Undone launch party. I dropped off my coat in coat check to make sure I didn’t look like someone who was on their way out. I took the long way to the bar to scope the room out. I ordered some liquid courage. I then looked for other people who might have been a one-man show like me, or at least were speaking with people in the way where there is too much distance between them, so I know they aren’t buddy buddy.

If you haven’t been to Boom, you might have been to Le Bain, its trashy little sister who just can’t get a grip. Located in the same building, they both have bathrooms with the best views of the city. I could spend all night in there.

Where they really differ: Boom (fka Boom Boom Room and Top of the Standard) has a beautiful bar and conversation pit sitting room with floor to ceiling glass windows of the city, really one of the most beautiful spaces in all of Manhattan if you ask me.

Le Bain, on the other hand, has a hot tub full of so many diseases, chlorine bounces when it hits the water. If you ever, and I mean ever, see someone get into a hot tub at Le Bain, grab them by the hair and pull them out. Life or death situation.

At the beautiful Boom, I was determined to be more confident and less like I was being babysat. That is how I met the wonderful Lauren Ro, writer at the Strategist and fellow Brooklynite. She and I hung out all night (for about an hour) and even had a glass of champagne. I had a great time. We spoke about her family, our thoughts on the best towels, and Brooklyn, all topics I enjoy greatly.

The crowd was lively. I saw one of my favorite internet native poets and visual artists, Sotce, walk right by me like an elegant gazelle in a mini skirt. She embraces her creativity, very cool. I just stood there with my mouth agape at her grace that I forgot to say hello. I also heard there was someone from Summer House or some other reality TV show there too, but I don’t watch that trash. I prefer trash that is on TLC, mostly with the Amish involved.

In the conversation pit, there were cards with fun questions on them, and bananas with flowers coming out of them, reminiscent of the cover of Come Undone. The DJ was good and people danced to the side. The bartenders were fast, (a little too fast at the beginning for me when I didn’t meet Lauren yet and was trying to do something in the room.)

I didn’t get to meet Eddie, but if I see him again I would like to extend my sincerest thank-yous for the invite. I felt like I needed this party to get out of my solo rut. It was medicine.

Yesterday, I listened to his interview on How Long Gone and thought about what it would have been like if I could have split the crowd like the Red Sea and talked to him myself. Maybe next time after I read the book.

The day after the Boom party, I hosted my own rager with far less beautiful bathrooms. It was a meetup in the park. Every single person showed up alone.

While I did supply an array of picnic snacks (untouched), I did not bring alcohol because I thought people would go into the park house to get a drink. The Philosophy Club had other plans though and decided to plan their debate night right on the same night as my meetup in the park, making the bar more crowded than usual on a weeknight. Luckily, someone else rolled through with lots of wine.

After my last few solo events, I tried extra hard to make sure everyone who came solo felt important, even more so pre-social lubricant. I wanted to remember everyone’s names, and ask them questions, and know where they live, and not ask about work unless they wanted to. I had genuine interest in them. I wanted them to feel like they had a reason to be here.

I think the reason I had uncomfortable feelings lately while going solo to parties was exactly for this moment. It was the universe telling me how to handle it when I saw others in the same situation. I will be more attentive, more compassionate, and make sure everyone feels like they have a reason to be there if I am able. I hope I was doing this all before, but I feel much more aware and like I want to take action in a crowded room if I ever see someone alone. I want everyone to feel included and to never leave anything feeling slinky-like.

I hope you go to something alone this summer, and if you do go to something with friends, I hope you go up to someone who showed up solo. I hope that you are a great host to those who come without knowing anyone else. It just might be their right place on the right night.

Whatever the game is, Annalise is playing it.

(But not any bad ones, because the only thing she hates more than NOT playing the game is something that wastes her time, and bad games such a time suck.)

I live life like a duck. I look put together on top, floating by, but underneath the water, I am paddling my little legs like they are motorized and often blow by the parts of life that are supposed to be fun because I am trying to go so fast while being so put together, I forget what I am doing entirely. This is not only a mindfulness coach’s worst nightmare, but a very game-less way to live life.

Some examples of games Annalise plays:

• Duolingo: At one point, her streak was so long that she played through her father passing, the pandemic, her mother moving out of their childhood home, a life-changing breakup, and a move to another state. Unlike those of us who buy the premium version and forget about it (me), she did Duolingo every. single. day. On the worst days of her life, Annalise does her language learning games on that damn Duolingo app and on the best days of mine, I forget my phone has any purpose other than playing TikToks of cat adoption videos, which I send to Annalise.

• Toothbrush: This isn’t the most important one, but it is the most insane. Her toothbrush has an app where she literally tracks herself brushing her teeth. This is how I know, no matter the state she is getting home in, her teeth are getting brushed and tracked. I brush my teeth, but I have no idea if I am doing a good job or not. I don’t have an app to tell me. Annalise is definitely doing it better than all of us and her smile is proof.

• Fitness: Today, I was texting her about my awful experience at Barry’s (my watch didn’t sync, started on the floor, lower body focus, you know the drill) when she informed me she is leaning into their Pride Month challenge and doing a bunch of classes this month. Typical Annalise! If you know anything about Barry’s challenges, you would know they are basically just throwing peanuts at you, but it’s a game. This isn’t the first fitness challenge she has done, and not even at her first workout studio. She did Orangetheory so much in college, they gave her a job there. She woke up at the crack of dawn (something like 4:30 or 5 or something) and went to Orangetheory. I got home from the bar at 3am, so we were just missing each other.

She isn’t playing masochistic games exclusively. She also plays ones that others would deem fun, like going out every night on the weekend, jamming her days full of brunch, dinner, and rooftop house music sets, and capping it all off with a week in Ibiza. She basically has a fun-streak going. Annalise even threw her boyfriend a game-themed birthday party at a place that lets you do lawn games year-round indoors with a conveniently located bar inside.

If life was a game, she’d be winning it. She has a great time, and any chance she gets to make whatever task in front of her more interesting, she does it. How great is that?

During the summer of 2019, I admitted to someone at the company I was interning at that I downright hated it there. I have no idea why I did that, but they asked so I thought I’d be honest. They let me know that I would be free in a few weeks to venture to other opportunities, and if I’m in another situation that sucks and I hate it, to make it a game. If I was stapling paper all day, how many staples could I get through? Start timing yourself when you do daily reporting to see how fast you can get it done.

Somewhere along the way, I totally forgot that advice, but Annalise’s insane Duolingo habits, Bluetooth toothbrush, and go-big-or-go-home lifestyle reminded me.

I’m not saying that you should be doing your Duolingo streak while your partner is breaking up with you, I am not saying all of your appliances need to be tracking you, and I am not saying you have to do workout challenges. I’m not saying a lot of things.

But if you are faced with the opportunity to treat something like a game, play it.

Take yourself seriously, but not too seriously. Have fun in the mundane tasks. Stop being a duck and start being a human with a life. It’s much more entertaining that way.

This is only for you if you want to change.

I don’t always have my shit together. I have stretches where I do none of the things I said I would and I’m not writing this from on top of a mountain of neatly folded clothing and clean dishes.

However, even in my messy relationship with discipline, more on and off again than any high school relationship you’ve ever seen, discipline has made my life a hell of a lot easier.

There is so much in life we can’t control, like some health situations or the families we’re born into, but our own actions are one of the few things we do.

This is how, and why, I taught myself to be disciplined, for the most part.

BACKGROUND

One of my greatest skills is discipline. It started my senior year of college when I got unhealthily addicted to self-improvement videos, which benefited me in the long run but made me a bit of a nut for a while. I used to be a mess; my bedroom looked like the aftermath of a sample sale, my bags were full of whatever from the night before, my sleep schedule was in shambles, I have no idea if I ever drank water, and I had poor time management skills (which was probably the worst offender).

I grew up going to good schools that managed a lot of my life, and I was dedicated to soccer and cross country. I didn’t have to be disciplined because someone always made my schedule for me. I was a good rule follower which, as everyone knows, boils down to just being a follower. I was, in no way, building my own life, nor did I want the responsibility to do so. The structure created in my life was due to my loving tiger mom and teachers who wanted the privileged students in their school to do well. When I got to my massive state school for college, I was able to float by at the surface with classes thanks to the competitive schools that prepared me, but I wasn’t necessarily doing anything else. My major required an internship, so I got a good internship. My friends joined clubs and Greek life, so I joined clubs and Greek life. I did well at things because it was expected of me. At the surface, things were great, but below, things were kind of a trashcan.

I HAD A REASON TO CHANGE

My senior year I had enough. I was done skating by. I saw people my age really start to do well, and why not me? I didn’t want to be the person with a messy room, I didn’t want to be the person who stopped running, I didn’t want to be so many of the habits I built on myself. It wasn’t like I woke up one day and it all hit me, it sort of just boiled in me until I had enough with it all. I was so frustrated with myself. I didn’t have a hard life, there were no uphill battles, the system wasn’t against me. No excuses.

Hence, the discipline journey began. It goes up and down, like most things in life, but I am happy I taught myself how to be disciplined when I did. It has been six years now. I eat relatively healthy, I wake up early, I drink in moderation, I read, I floss, I wash my face every night. The one area of discipline I falter on is creating anything for myself, but I’ve gone over that before, and I am working on it! Right here! With this newsletter!

I COSPLAYED SOMEONE HAVING THEIR SHIT TOGETHER

I started off by watching videos of people whose lives were disciplined, like people living in tiny houses in the woods, like Isabel Paige, who had the same routines every day. Then, I started getting into the space where they taught you how to be disciplined. I now see these as repetitive and a bit guru-y, but it’s what I needed. My favorite was the account Better Ideas. Then, I would tell myself I was a totally different version of myself, like how performers have alter egos. That’s where things picked up a bit more.

I STARTED ON EASY MODE

I started to wake up early and read. To make it easy, I started off by picking up a random book that had a one-page-a-day format that I could reflect on, like a devotional. While I would venture to say you should choose a different book, I landed on the Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday. Some days, I would read one page, and some days I would read more, and then write about it and how stoicism related to my life.

Because I was already writing, I then wrote a to-do list. There, my morning journaling routine was born. It was an easy life and a reason to wake up at the same time every day.

I TOOK AWAY BARRIERS

After that, I hit the gym, which was in my building which helped a lot. I never went to the on-campus gym, even though it was state of the art and had a rock climbing wall. I chugged water while I walked or ran on the treadmill. I have never lived in a building with a gym since so I am very happy I had one at the start of this all.

After the gym, I got back into my apartment, showered, got my stuff together, and went to class.

This wasn’t a giant shift in my life, but cosplaying as someone who had their shit together in the morning like a monk with an internet consumption problem was the kick in the ass I needed to do the harder things, like creating structure while working for myself, making my own deadlines, running on my own time to train for half marathons, and writing a weekly newsletter.

I try to make things as easy as possible for myself. Sometimes I go on runs in pajama shorts because not having clean leggings shouldn’t be a barrier to running. I don’t have a specific day when my newsletter comes out. If I miss a day doing something, I don’t sweat it, because I know I can hop back on the wagon tomorrow. Things can come easy. Missing three days feels like a lot, but missing one doesn’t kill me.

I LET MYSELF BE A BEGINNER

I also gave myself permission to be bad at things. I know I am not a good writer, but at one point, I had a really shitty podcast and now I produce podcasts for a living. I know things take time, and I’m not a quitter. I tell myself I actually like being bad at things because it lets me do more. I am a bad dancer, but that doesn’t mean I won’t go to Zumba class with my friends. I have very little knowledge of Spanish and my pronunciation is bad, but that will not keep me from trying. I go through phases where I stop running and I just accept I’ll be a bad runner and then in a few weeks, I won’t be as bad.

I am ok at being a beginner, people expect beginners to be bad at things. It’s not embarrassing or a reason to stop, it’s just how things are, and I will put in whatever effort I have into it. Just because you are bad at something doesn’t mean it can’t be fun or a good experience. I have skied my entire life and I am so bad it’s comical. I ski like a baby deer learning to walk. That baby deer was unfortunately born without a front right leg or back left leg. They are also on an icy lake covered in olive oil. I still like to ski!

I FAKE IT TILL I MAKE IT

I pretty much follow the same steps above for everything now if I want to add a new routine into my life. I act like I am that person, the type of person who does whatever I want to do to the best of my ability. I find myself in characters in books or movies and value aspects in my friends that I want to emulate (that’s why it’s important to be mindful of who you spend time with!). I say no to fun when I need to and say yes when I want because I know I will go back to being disciplined tomorrow.

Don’t just take it from me. I am just a random person on the internet. Listen to other random people on the internet too.

I documented some notes from other Substacks on discipline that I found helpful.

How do you stay on top of your shit?

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Notes on Discipline Across Substack

train your attention span SO GOOD it feels weird to scroll by

• You need discipline because you live in a casino. Refreshing your feeds is a slot machine. The good news is you have to write your own rules.

  • Variable-ratio reinforcement: B.F. Skinner and Charles Ferster found that when rewards are given after an unpredictable number of actions, people stay engaged longer and put in more effort. This type of reward system also makes behaviors harder to stop.

• Have a boring window throughout the day where you just walk, do dishes, whatever, but make sure there is no input. This is to help reset your dopamine baseline. Boredom is the medicine.

• Protect the first hour of your day because whatever circuit you fire up first wins in the day. Make sure it doesn’t start as an infinite scroll. No phone, no email, no social. Read, write, chill out. Maybe I will start doing an apartment pickup right when I wake up instead of at night. That always keeps me off my phone.

5 Principles for Effortless Discipline by

• “…lasting change does not come from self-punishment but from self-respect.”

• Gentle discipline strips away internal friction. Ask yourself what the next light step is, how you can avoid fighting yourself, and find release over force. Wu wei is a Taoist principle, translated to effortless action. Embrace wu wei.

• Avoid perfectionism and rigid self-control.

how to be extremely disciplined by

• Ask yourself, “what would a disciplined person do” and then act on it. Be the person who acts.

• Reward consistency and effort rather than outcome or dramatic shifts.

Discipline Over Motivation by

• Don’t rely on motivation more than discipline to achieve your goals. Motivation is emotional but discipline is structural, creating stability. You won’t collapse every time your mood changes if you are disciplined. Continue to move when motivation disappears.

Discipline Is a Form of Self-Respect — 1 February by

• Honor yourself and the promises you make by being disciplined. Your life deserves structure and respect, which both come with discipline.

• Choose standards you can live with and let the discipline be an expression of care rather than severity or control.

Discipline Comes from Having No Choice by

• Change your environment, delete your socials, sell your TV or video games, get a dumb phone, do whatever it takes to make sure your environment is clean from distractions.

• Schedule well and kill the gaps where discipline goes to die and add in focus periods.

How to Trick Your Brain into Doing Difficult Things by

• You need to boost your own ego. If you say you are not athletic or you are a die-hard perfectionist, you won’t go to the gym and won’t put out anything that isn’t perfect. Change how you think about yourself.

• Pretend you are someone you aren’t for a little to set yourself up to become the person you want to be.

• Embrace being a beginner. You are learning, you are new, you are practicing, you are developing. Your brain thinks in dramatic messages, but don’t listen to it. It is not too hard, too much, and it can happen today.

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I crave getting in a car that’s been sitting in the hot sun and marinating there before putting my key in the ignition. I don’t even drive, but I would start for this feeling.

I dream of walking on the sunny side of the street and sitting in a chair that isn’t covered by an umbrella while outdoor dining, preferably with french fries in front of me.

I am meant to live the life of a lizard on a rock, though my easy-to-burn skin begs to differ.

Maybe it’s because I run cold, or the fact that I didn’t grow up with much air conditioning in the first place. Whenever I am in an air-conditioned room the air feels artificial rather than refreshing. In the winter, I feel like dry leaves, shaking and living in fear that if a stiff breeze goes by, I will crumble to dust right then and there.

If I could figure out how to make my laptop survive the abrasive heat, I would do my work on a folding chair on the sidewalk outside of my apartment all day long.

The heat makes me feel more entertained too. When it gets hot enough, all I need are my headphones. I could sit in the sun on a bench for hours and not think about anything else, like some type of temperature-controlled meditation. When it’s not hot, a to-do list runs through my head and how long it will take for me to get to my next destination sits like a sticky note on my brain. In the heat, everything just slides right off me. Sticky notes’ weak adhesion never stood a chance.

When it’s exceptionally hot like today, I want lukewarm water and no ice in my drinks. (I really like this about myself, it feels low maintenance and I never have to worry about heavy insulated water bottles.) The reason for my aversion to cold beverages is I get worried that the differing temperatures from inside my body and out will mess up my energy. (That sounds high maintenance.)

Recently, I found out this is a common belief in Traditional Chinese Medicine, with the thought that cold food and drinks mess up your body’s internal balance. I couldn’t believe it, I knew it all along!

Sacrifices are part of life though, and I will sacrifice my internal balance occasionally for ice cream. I use the term ice cream broadly, any frozen sweet treat doesn’t stand a chance.

This brings me to a list of frozen treats you should hunt for this heatwave.

Frozen Treat Guide, Summer 2026

Halo-Halo: Halo-halo is a Filipino dessert, translating to mix-mix in Tagalog. It’s made up of shaved ice, evaporated milk, and a bunch of mixed ingredients like coconut, tapioca pearls, ube ice cream, leche flan, palm fruit, and my favorite, sweetened red beans. If you haven’t had ube ice cream or red bean ice cream on its own before, I think you should do that first. They are excellent. When it’s first given to you, all the ice cream, fruits, jellies, and shaved ice are in a tall glass and it looks beautiful. You are going to be given a bowl to dump it into, and that is where the magic happens. It gets ugly, soupy, and is a phenomenal sweet treat. If you live in New York, I recently had halo-halo for my friend’s birthday at Kalye. They also have great cocktails.

Ice Cream Sandwiches: I am an ice cream sandwich aficionado. I go back and forth, enjoying classic ones that stick to the packaging, thick Van Leeuwen ones, creamery distributed ones that are akin to hockey pucks, and even the ones that are marketed as “frozen dessert” because they technically do not have ice cream in them. I will not be looking into this as I would like to preserve my peace. My favorites right now are the Japanese frozen waffle ice cream sandwiches that split in half. Great for sharing with a friend or not, depending on how your day is going.

Soft Serve: If you go all the way to SoHo only to find out Mimi’s frozen yogurt has a twenty-minute-long wait (it’s good, but if you are in dire need of a sweet treat forget about it), walk down the street to Upside Pizza. Next door is their frozen yogurt spot, Softside. They also do good milkshakes with bits of cookie in them. Really, I love soft serve from anywhere, I’m not picky, any ice cream truck will do.

Painkiller: I am dropping this in here because sometimes we need something a little harder than an ice cream. McCarren Parkhouse has you covered. Sit in the sun with your painkiller and enjoy watching everyone sit on picnic blankets in the dirt patches that seem to never grow grass anymore.

Mamita’s Coconut Cream: Frozen coconut cream that tastes as good as the inside of a Mounds bar. A bodega classic, it is like a creamier version of a coconut popsicle.

Ningxia Lemon Flavored Ice Cream: A candy-like outside and lemon inside, these taste as good as they will look on your Instagram story. These are the latest addition to my rotation and are a crowd favorite. You can find them in packs of three. I think these will be a hit if you have a dinner party and bring them out at the end.

Ice cream served in a coconut or a lemon, matching their respective casing: You can get these at Kaleidoscope Coffee in Greenpoint, however the owner told me he just gets them from Costco, a path I will not be taking as 1. they would take up too much valuable freezer space 2. I do not have a Costco membership 3. I don’t think I have self-control. I would fill my entire apartment with coconuts.

BONUS: My favorites from childhood (if you are ever in Germany, let me know if you get the chance to try it.)

• Bum Bum ice cream: I liked this ice cream growing up because the stick was a piece of gum covered in plastic you could rip off. I couldn’t have gum until I was older, so it was a good way to sneak it. Now whenever I have it, it brings me back to my childhood. Bum Bum was created as a tribute to the German tennis star Boris Becker, unfortunately nicknamed Bum Bum Boris. Mr. Bum Bum won his first Wimbledon championship in 1985 and the ice cream came out in 1986.

• Spaghettieis: Looking like a bowl of spaghetti, the Italo-German ice cream dish gets its shape by pushing vanilla ice cream through a Spätzle press, then topping it with strawberry sauce, coconut shavings, and whipped cream (not sweetened). According to Wikipedia, Spaghettieis was created by Dario Fontanella, a second-generation ice cream shop owner, in the late 1960s in Mannheim, a town 20 minutes away from my hometown of Heidelberg.

Honorable mention: Strawberry popsicles. I don’t count these as a treat. These are just a summer staple.

What did I miss?

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Obviously never happened. That summer, I wore my bank-branded backpack stuffed full like a turtle shell, never befriended a gallerista, and stunned in Old Navy slacks.

But I did find a downtown bar to sit outside of.

Welcome to Jeremy’s Ale House.

One of the great joys in life is sitting outside in New York City with a massive beer/Aperol spritz/Diet Coke, and Jeremy’s provides. What the place lacks in classy decor and a Dimes Square location, it makes up for with its outdoor seating in the historic Seaport district. There is a small porch with stools that offer excellent people watching and tables and chairs set up wobbly in the street below.

My favorite time to go is during the day to avoid the crowds. It is one of my go-to locations for catching up with friends over a Sunday afternoon drink and is in perfect proximity to both a McNally Jackson bookstore and a walking path by the East River waterfront if we want to extend our time together.

Last night, however, I went much later than usual and ventured past the outdoor seating of my dreams to the underbelly of the beast so I could watch the Knicks game with friends.

As someone who isn’t much of a night owl, the times I do go out I want to go all out. Being in a crowded bar makes me feel like I am living, as controversial as they might be. Especially if I am a part of the crowd itself with a group of friends, I tend to have a blast, especially if the bathroom line isn’t too long and getting a drink doesn’t take years off my life.

Jeremy’s last night was both crowded and fast, and I was a part of the crowd.

Under a ceiling covered in women’s brassieres and scribbled on foam tiles, I ordered a beer the size of my head, a Coke, and two seltzers from a brand that definitely wasn’t around when I was in college. I pushed through the sea to find the seat my dear friend Annalise had saved for me, and we all scream-talked at each other very loudly and laughed even louder, until I started getting worried my eardrums were going to pop right out of my head. Then we went outside, through the porch doors, to be with the classy outdoor drinkers and cigarette smokers until we cooled down. It was a cycle of this and was a blast.

Last night, there was no bouncer and a lot of cheering. The crowd was a bit younger than usual, which I verified by overhearing some talk about the lines at Parker House and the Princeton getting out of hand. (Nightmare material.)

New York’s lack of space has resulted in nightlife locations shapeshifting to fit the clientele depending on the time of day. Bars that cater to just one type of person go under after that type exhausts their time there. They move on to the next. Places like Jeremy’s are able to stick around because they can catch what is thrown at them (and because of their outdoor seating).

I recommend going to a crowded bar with your friends. Scream and laugh. Then go to that same bar a few weeks later during a different time of day and marvel at how empty it is and how the entire essence of the place has shifted.

The next sunny Saturday, go to Jeremy’s with a few people. Even better, go during the day or right after dinner. Have the whole place to yourself.

Enjoy.

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When I first moved to Brooklyn, I was determined to become a real neighbor. The kind that can hold your spare key for you, get your packages if you are away, offer you butter and sugar because Lord knows I’m not using them. While living in Manhattan, I lived in buildings with revolving doors of neighbors, and to be frank I also moved every single year due to downsizing roommates one by one until I eventually moved stag to my one-bedroom here in the Italian area of Williamsburg.

Unlike my previous arrangement, my building has been untouched by modern influences, with stairwells that feel like old hallways of someone’s haunted home rather than an apartment building. My fridge is white, cabinets are honey wood, and I wouldn’t change a thing. It feels untouched. I don’t miss the elevator or the silver appliances or the rich recent grads living below me.

In those apartments, I was never rooted. There was no perennial opportunity in sight. I grew up moving around often, attending three high schools alone, so while the act of moving is stressful and brings up more unresolved trauma than I’d like to admit, I never thought of it as unusual or a burden. I just thought it was something people did. I never even considered staying in one place. I was constantly thinking about the next apartment.

I am proud to say that I am a changed woman (for now). I am not only going on my second year in my current apartment, but I know every single person’s name in my building along with their cats’ names! I hold exactly one spare key, have brought in countless packages, put salt on the stoop when it is icy, and even helped one neighbor move things into her apartment after her mother went to a nursing home and had to downsize immensely, leading to the most boxes I have ever seen in an already furnished and full apartment.

After that, we sat and talked until three in the morning, with one other neighbor from my building who drove her all the way to her mother’s house out of the city to get the towering boxes. We each drank one bottle of wine that they got on their trip to Italy last year. At first I thought they went together, but I came to realize they went separately, visiting their own hometowns, and they told me a lot of people from the area did that over the summer, mostly to southern Italy. The late-night conversation was worth the severe hangover, as many are.

It was that night that I learned about where I really lived. Several of my neighbors have lived in the building for over thirty years and are now on their second landlord here. More than one person moved into the building after moving out of their family homes, located right down the street. They are not just from the area, they are the area. They know everyone. Everyone knows them. I feel lucky they always have their doors open for me, an outsider with a history of rotating doors.

I talked to my neighbors that night about my pursuits to be the best I could be and about everyone I’ve met from our area. The woman at the laundromat, the man who sits outside and tells me who to vote for when I walk by, the contractor who says he will do literally anything to my apartment if I pay him. They knew them all, they knew their siblings, they knew their parents, and some of them they were even married to at one point. They also slid in that the movie Donnie Brasco is filmed right in our neighborhood.

Along the way, I mentioned that I asked our landlord if I could mail him my check for rent, and he responded absolutely not, but I could drop it off at Carmine’s and Sons pizzeria, not to be confused with Carmine’s in Time Square. I can only pay my landlord by check. He comes by every first of the month, unless that first of the month is a Sunday; then he comes on Saturday. To my surprise, my neighbors thought that dropping it off at Carmine’s was incredibly reasonable and an even more favorable thing to do than mailing it. Lucky me! As they went on, I realized Carmine’s is equivalent to the Vatican of Williamsburg for my Italian neighbors. Holy. Unmatched. Run by a pope-like man everyone respects (named Carmine, of course). If you mention the pizza shop Tony’s Pizza to my neighbors, which is directly across the street from Carmine’s, they will tell you it is no competition at all. That place is completely different. It doesn’t serve the same purpose as Carmine’s. It is a pizza place, it’s not Carmine’s.

If you ever find yourself at the Graham Stop in Williamsburg (my neighbors said to never call it East Williamsburg under any circumstances), you must stop by Carmine’s. It is split into two. On the left side, you can get pizza, and there’s a sign for an espresso bar. On the right you will see the sports bar and restaurant in the back. Technically, the left is called Carmine’s and the right is called Carmine’s and Sons, but everyone just calls the whole thing Carmine’s.

Carmine’s has been around for about 47 years. Gaetano Gangone, the original owner, was a baker in Italy and Venezuela before moving to the United States, where he continued to work in bakeries and pizza shops. Ten years after living here, he opened his own pizza place, calling it Ray’s Pizzeria. When Gaetano’s son Carmine took over the family joint in 1992, it was renamed Carmine and Son’s.

While walking to work, I will see older gentlemen at the aforementioned espresso bar, which is actually just the pizza counter with an espresso machine in the back. When I walk home, I see people with bar slices looking like they’ve been sitting there for hours. Even at lunch during the workday, people are in there. Every day of the week, except for Tuesdays, Carmine’s acts as a meeting spot. It isn’t a gatekept place kept only for the old guard. It is open and welcoming. I have gone countless times alone to grab a slice of pizza, and it is a typical spot for watching games with my friends. I am too intimidated to go in during the mornings for espresso. Maybe one day.

There aren’t very many places I can think of that so greatly accept the old and the new across age demographics quite like Carmine’s.

Legend (InstagramI has it that they have a batting cage on their roof, which I believe considering that they sell shirts for the Italian Baseball League on their website.

When the Knicks won a game recently, Carmine’s lit off fireworks in the street. He paints the fire hydrant outside in the colors of the Italian flag. At the Italian festival, which my neighbors have been involved with since childhood, Carmine’s sells pizza. It is a true New York establishment if there ever was one.

During the night with the wine and the boxes, one of my neighbors mentioned he worked there for years. The other told me she has known Carmine’s family since she was a kid, and when her own son passed, Carmine’s gave money to the foundation made in her son’s name that offers college scholarships. Carmine’s runs deep.

While I was at Carmine’s for a Knicks game, I got talking with one of the employees, Joe (who is fondly referred to as the priest on Carmine’s Instagram). I mentioned the neighbor who kindly drove all the way out of the city to get the boxes, and in response Joe went on for five straight minutes about how my neighbor is the best guy around. (He really is.) The people of Carmine’s know and love their people and love their community.

It is a place that is respected. It is a place that is trusted. Regulars might be people who have lived here for sixty years or six years.

To be a neighbor doesn’t mean living next to others. It doesn’t even mean bringing in packages or putting salt on the stoop. It’s being a part of the neighborhood itself, which takes time. If you want a community, it takes effort, and years, and resigning leases, and going to get pizza with everyone even if you really don’t want pizza right now, because as they say, convenience is the cost of community.

I will continue to try, in my second year, to be a better neighbor than before, becoming a bit more like the essence of Carmine’s.

To experience New York, you must go where New Yorkers go. New Yorkers go to Carmine’s.

It was humbling and worth it.

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Over time, the skin has thinned out, and I am now in the mood to partake in the act of rejection exposure therapy all over again.

I’ve always loved blogs, from Tumblr to Medium and now Substack. Even on Reddit, when I find someone who responds to a question in a way that I find just a bit strange, I will go into their profile and read every response I can find. Strangers who I don’t know, will never know, and who aren’t even sharing their identity on the internet.

I think of it like reading someone’s diary. Even if it’s boring, the day-to-day details, what they microwaved for dinner or how they reorganized their shoes, are interesting to me because it’s simply not my dinner or my shoes.

The act of people-watching through my screen has become one of my favorite pastimes, second only to the same in real life.

I want to know what it feels like to be a girl who lives in downtown Manhattan and works in fashion, or one in the Midwest who writes a romance blog during her downtime as a night nurse, or about life in Costa Rica after a messy divorce. I want to know about the mom of three living in New Jersey, and the recently unemployed woman who sees the severance package as a sign, as a gift from God.

I want to breathe every life that isn’t mine, and the internet provides.

Once your eyes are open to the uniqueness of human life, creativity, and expression, it becomes hard to blink. Knowing that other people are living their lives inspires me to live mine. So much of the information we consume is meant to make us feel like we have to constantly improve in some way, whether that’s the latest thing to buy or the latest food to cut, but too much of that makes you selfish. Life is so much bigger. Reading about others is a good reminder that the universe doesn’t revolve around my timeline, or anyone else’s.

Because of all this, I want to share some writers and other internet people whose documentations of life I admire, on the chance that you will value them, and the universe they’ve crafted, as much as I do.

I am unsure how to interview people for written work. Do you send an email with a bunch of questions and they respond? Do we hop on a phone call? Do we do a Zoom? That feels too sterile. Maybe we should grab coffee, but recording a conversation in public feels too invasive. This will be a learning experience.

If you have any advice, or people you think I should follow, let me know.

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Let’s see how this goes.

Instead of blowing up my life entirely (which I always do it just a little bit during these times), I end up picking up new hobbies and activities. I start asking people to join me in the park, I go to craft stores, I get more into reading just so I have more excuses to go sit on benches in public. This results in a lot of junk, half-done crafts, and folding chairs, hence the need to purge before I start the season all over again.

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This season I also want to document my life more. I unfortunately have the memory of a father trying to address his teen daughter’s friends at a party. Last week, I went on a trip to Normandy, France, and today, my first Monday back, I can’t even remember what days we did what activities!

I am usually a very dedicated and determined person. I work for myself, have good time management skills, and if I say I’m going to do something, I will. Somewhere along the way, though, the act of creating for myself gets lost and slips through the cracks. I am not sure why. It’s important to me. I used to scrapbook and share photos after every trip, and now I just let memories and thoughts sit in my camera roll until one day I scroll by a picture and look at it like a painting in a museum that I vaguely remember, until I realize it was the cover of my history textbook in middle school. I create for other people every day, on time, without fail, sticking to schedules, but when it comes to me, I let it slide!

Not anymore. I want my journal entries to be something I look back on, not just my to-do list. I want to write about who I like, what I enjoy doing, what’s interesting, and anything under the sun.

Yesterday on the plane ride home, I read ’s latest post titled Here’s How To Finally Start Posting on Social. In it, she talks about a challenge where you readers can follow along for one month, posting every day, Monday through Friday, in the hopes that, at the end, they can find out why they should be posting. I like the idea of sticking with something and seeing a goal to accomplish. The difference for me during this processes is that I know why I want to post. I want to remember what I thought in this state of my life. I want to look back and say “wow, I can’t believe I ever thought that!” or “the person I mentioned… I miss them, I should reach out” or “I would relive any mundane day in that moment of my life a million times.” I want to preserve my days, and hopefully it will be good to look back on.

I also think I want to do something where I highlight the people I find interesting on this app, like and , or , who has excellent video essays. I wish I remembered all the people whose blogs I followed growing up, they helped shape me. I want to share the places I enjoyed visiting that I don’t hear many other people talking about, like the Alps in Tirol or the coastal towns of Galicia. I want to write down my favorite places to get coffee and my favorite shirts to wear and what my life is like living in New York City, something I dreamed about for so long.

There is a lot of flack on here about every newsletter being a diary entry, but who cares? I would love to read someones diary.

Let’s see how writing for this month goes. I have some trips and a project for work launching, but I don’t want life to get in the way of me remembering it.

Unrelated, but this is a nice painting. I hope she is calling her mom.

But then life got in the way.

You had an exam, a work presentation, the weather sucked, you got sick, and you just didn’t follow through or maybe you didn’t even start. Maybe that happens more often than you’d want. You are stuck in a cycle.

When you think about doing something hard and important, your brain sees it as a threat, creating internal struggles like stress, self-doubt, or anxiety, and to avoid that uncomfortable feeling, you do something easier, like just scrolling on your phone.

Each time you avoid doing the task and scroll, you feel relief, which teaches your brain to procrastinate again next time. You are building a procrastination muscle, and now it’s really strong.

This constant stimulation is keeping you from creating the life you want to live. In other words, yes, it is that damn phone’s fault.

Control over your mind is connected to the life you build, and all the time and energy you put into distraction and procrastination are keeping you in the same place. You are watching others build your dream life.

You have to work on completing whatever that hard thing is to get yourself out of the loop before procrastination eats at your life and keeps you as an audience member for someone else’s.

You have taught your brain to avoid doing hard things and now you have to unteach it.

Let me explain.

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Get out of your head, off your phone, and into your life.

You are not avoiding the task itself. You are avoiding how you think the task will make you feel. Usually, starting feels much worse in your head than it does in real life, and if you just did whatever it is that you had to do, you would see it’s not that bad.

But that’s easier said than done.

Somewhere in the mix of life, thinking has become a substitute for action. Thinking is a safe place, even if it’s overexaggerated. It’s clean-lined and things make more sense and there isn’t as much mess to clean up or steps to follow.

Thinking about doing the task can take over the space of doing the task. Thinking becomes your reality, until one day you realize that your life is in a constant state of analysis paralysis.

Even if the task that you are procrastinating is actually hard, like going on a long run, you have to think about the outcome, the reward. The cost is in the present but the reward is in the future.

But, we can’t just be driven by that long-awaited reward; our brains aren’t wired like that. Start combining different tasks together with ones you like. If you have to write, do it alongside your favorite cut of coffee. If you need to go on a run, save a podcast and only listen to it on that day.

Even better, take your big task and break it down into mini subtasks.

Practice being ok with not getting something done all in one day. Social media is a farce and makes you believe every task in the world can be done in under a minute, but good things take time and there are a ton of steps and that’s the fun part.

Break it down, make it digestible, celebrate small wins.

And don’t forget to create an environment that makes doing the hard thing just a little bit easier.

Create an environment that helps you achieve your goals.

I am not going to tell you to start waking up at 5am every day and delete all your social media, but I will say that the most disciplined people are not the ones with the most willpower; they are the ones who have built systems that make willpower less necessary.

For running, put everything you would need to take out the door in one spot. Instead of putting your running sunglasses with your other sunglasses, or chapstick with your other toiletries, or gum in your bag, keep it all in one drawer. Lower the friction.

Your brain isn’t good at multitasking, so the more distraction you have the harder it will be. Clean off your desk so it’s the best place to work or study. You don’t need the most professional, perfect system; you just need to make the system with the least amount of friction possible for your circumstances.

Another way you could do this is less physical, but it’s having an archive — for art, for work, for life. This could be photos for painters looking for references, phrases or words for writers.

Nothing is worse than wanting to do something but you don’t know where to start. If you want to go to a gym and you don’t really know what to do, have a folder of videos you’ve seen as references. If you want to cook more, take photos of the menu at a restaurant every time you see something that seems easy or interesting to make and add it to a folder. Don’t let not knowing where to start keep you away from doing something you are motivated about. You are your own goals.

Define yourself.

Finally, you have to do the hard thing, but you must also believe in yourself and believe you can do something hard. This is directly correlated to you actually taking the first steps to do whatever that something is.

Albert Bandura’s self-efficacy theory is the idea that an individual’s belief in their own capability to execute behaviors and achieve desired outcomes is the primary driver of motivation, behavior, and success.

If you want to become a famous painter or a marathon runner or a lawyer, you must believe you can become a famous painter or a marathon runner or a lawyer.

Reframe your goals in terms of your identity. You are the type of person that paints often. You are an artist. You are a runner. You are a creator. You are smart, you love school, you are good at your job. You are good with your money. Make identity-led goals and write these down, tell them to yourself. Don’t forget.

You might not want to train for that marathon, but you are a dedicated runner and that is your identity. Insert yourself into the goal. Visualize yourself as the kind of person that can get this task done.

If you want it but don’t think you can do it for some reason or the other, then you will never take the steps, and you are the one keeping you from reaching your potential, your goals, your dreams.

Do the hard thing. Believe in yourself.

Last year, I got myself out of a reading rut by finding one style of book and sticking to it, so my brain didn’t have to work as hard to get into something new. Our brains like routine, and I think when the next book feels like a seamless handoff from the last one, you can just keep going without rebuilding all of that momentum from scratch. I wasn’t flip-flopping between topics or adjusting to a completely different writing style every time I finished something, and that consistency helped me pick up the next book (almost) immediately. I don’t think this is something you should do forever, but if you’re struggling to read consistently, narrowing your focus for a while really does help. I was worried that if I made too big of a change between books, I’d fall off like riding a bike. An abrupt crash and then long standing feelings of bike hated to follow.

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While I am constantly listening to audiobooks, they are mostly celebrity memoirs read by the author. My books are different and serve a different purpose. The style I landed on was a very specific kind of novel, all New York based or at least New York adjacent, with a female narrator I didn’t necessarily like. They are low plot with a high psychological focus, and there is proximity to wealth and status, and most of the story is driven by small decisions rather than big events. The prose is generally restrained and controlled, which contrasts with the chaotic inner life of whoever is narrating. Identity is always a little unstable, and there is a constant ambiguity around control and what’s actually going on.

I think I like these books because the main characters are so deeply unlike me. I have a deep-seated want to be likeable by most people, while these women have no interest in being liked or even redeemable. I treat my entire life like an opportunity for growth, which is occasionally exhausting, and in these books, there is absolutely no growth. It’s more of an observation of their behavior over time, and it’s oddly relaxing.

I’m going to walk through three books that fit this mold, starting with the one I’d recommend least and ending with my favorite.

My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh is where this whole themed marathon started. I actually read it for the first time a few years ago at the same time as my mother, and I reread it this time around with less anxiety about conversations about the book over dinner. If you haven’t had the chance to read it (which is hard to imagine since it has been all over the place for years), it’s about a disaffected woman in New York who uses drugs to withdraw from life for a year, isolating herself and sleeping in hopes of getting rest. It’s dry and dark and is the first book I ever read where the main character just opts out of life entirely. There are a lot of reviews about it so I won’t bore you. It wasn’t my favorite and I hated the narrator, but something about a female antihero tickled my fancy and made me want to find more books like it. If you’re in a reading rut, I don’t actually think this is the one to start with, but it is the one that set the pattern for everything else I read after it.

The Coin by Yasmin Zaher is the next one I’d recommend. I read this with my old roommate and I thought it was well written, but I don’t think I will read it again. I would like to read another book by the author though. A very image-conscious woman in New York goes through life in a very routine way, focusing on taste and perception, and any small disruption unsettles her more and more. She is fragile and throughout the book you see her crack until she ultimately breaks. Everything felt so tightly wound the entire time, and you could sense that something was going to give. I think where it lost me a little is that by the end I didn’t feel like I got that much out of it, and it left me a little cold, but it is a well-executed spiral and I think it’s worth reading if you’re interested in this kind of book.

The Guest by Emma Cline is my favorite of the three, and the one I’d actually tell you to read first if you’re going to try any of these. The book follows a young woman who is drifting through the Hamptons, moving through social situations and circles she doesn’t really belong to, and she relies on her manipulation and survival instincts and charm throughout the whole thing. What I loved about it is that Emma Cline doesn’t overexplain anything, and you’re just watching this woman move through space and making your own judgments about her, and the whole thing has this low hum of tension underneath it that never really lets up. It isn’t very long so you can probably get it finished in a few days, if not one day with great weather and an iced coffee outside.

I do want to note that these are very depressing books. If you are in an emotional slump or going through something or struggling with your mental health, these are probably not the ones to reach for right now.

On a lighter note, I am currently reading Sex and Rage by Eve Babitz, which shares similar DNA to the books above, but isn’t as grey and gloomy. Similarities: the narrator is moving through the elite and aesthetic world in a way that feels familiar, she doesn’t quite fit into it, and there are strong focuses on relationships and social positioning, and the identity is fluid, and the book is very observational. Differences: there isn’t really a spiral the way there is in the other three. It’s far warmer and more romantic, and it feels more about movement even if there is little direction within that movement. I like the narrator and I hope for her, which is a nice change after spending time with women I didn’t particularly root for.

If you know of similar books, please share. If you ever got out of a reading rut, please share. If you hate all of these books, keep it to yourself.

I hope you get back into reading.

Now excuse me while I go audiobook Lena Dunham’s new memoir.

I found the most perfect pair from Massimo Dutti for under $200. I have been informed by , a fellow perfect shopper, that they have a heeled version as well at about 3cm high. My shoe closet is telling me no, but my heart is saying yes.

Things I like about my Massimo Dutti ballet flats

• Incredibly soft and malleable goatskin leather, which provides not only comfort but ease of travel if they are stuffed in my bag.

• No large bow, strap, or any defining feature other than a small knot. I’m hoping this will help them withstand the test of time.

• Rubber sole, so I could wear them out of the box and not have to make my way to the cobbler to add anything too industrial to the bottom. If shoes are leather-bottomed and low profile, I find that reinforcing the sole sometimes changes the shape of the shoe a little bit. Just enough that I notice.

• Room for a heel pad insert. I mostly get blisters on my heels and like to add a plush pad to the backs of my shoes, where they would rub the most. These shoes curved in such a way to hug the heel that the pad didn’t stick out or change the way my foot fit in the flats.

• Potential to be revived if needed. Remember when I said they were soft goat leather? I expect to give them a bit of TLC after a summer of wear. They seem high quality enough where it will be worth it and they won’t disintegrate, like some of my older vintage shoes have done in the past. Damn dry rot.

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Although those shoes did the job for me, I am happy to report my findings for research purposes. Just because they didn’t work for me doesn’t mean they wouldn’t work for you.

• Tony Bianco Martinez Leather Flats: I liked the look of The Row leather Mary Jane flats, but am unwilling to spend over $800 on a pair of shoes that aren’t able to either do my taxes or predict the future. After a quick search, I found Tony Bianco. The brand has been on my radar for their heels already, and I gave them a shot. I used the sizing chart, they ran big so I ordered a whole size down, and even after they came in I felt like something was off. They were, in fact, the kind of shoe that gave me the aforementioned flipper feet. Too wide, too slipper-like. They didn’t look as slimming as I wanted them to and there was too much room. Although they were extremely comfortable, and would have probably worked well with socks, I think the wide, flat shoe emphasizes my height, or lack thereof, so these made their way back to the post office to be returned. I will say I also went in store to their pop-up in Soho to try on other pairs of ballet flats, as the leather was amazingly soft, and had not only the worst service known to man but the lack of inventory was astonishing. I am a seven. How are there no sevens? That’s incredible.

  

• Camper Ballerinas Right: I tried these on in person in Williamsburg at one of my favorite stores called Shoe Market. Their Mary Janes were very cute and came in the most beautiful colors; periwinkle was my favorite. They were soft, but too narrow in the toe box for me. The sole of these was the best I tried in terms of sturdiness, they were almost sporty, and the strap was far thicker than the normal Mary Jane. If you are looking for something a bit more casual, these would be a great option.

• Madewell Greta Ballet Flat: I tried these on in store. These are a cult favorite by women on the internet and I could see myself getting them in the future, but honestly, after trying on so many Mary Janes, I came to realize that they just weren’t what I was looking for. What I liked about these is they came in so many different styles. What I didn’t love is how they wore on some people over time. During my research I found the toe squinched up in a way that looked like you kicked a door. I don’t mind worn shoes, but I don’t like the squinched look.

  

• Dolce Vita Ritla Leather Ballet Flats: Due to the toe box thing, I got these in a wide. Big mistake. Huge mistake. They were massive on me and, reading the reviews, everyone else felt the same. If they did fit, I believe they would have been more of a contender. The normal width was too narrow and the wide was too large in every way possible. It was a Goldilocks issue for these at the end of the day.

  

Going on to the flats I already own and why they aren’t the perfect pair. I will link similar options to what I have.

• Red suede Aerosoles flats: comfortable, but the toe box is too narrow so I can’t walk long distances. I also don’t love that the sole is tan and a little thick for such a dainty shoe. These are cute for work, and I love wearing them with navy pants and skirts, but the comfort is just not there. The suede is also a bit warm for summer and the shade of red is very bright.

• Jeffrey Campbell faux patent leather flats: These have done the job before but I didn’t want patent leather for my perfect flats. These also cut and give me blisters and have a limited shelf life due to their material. Overall, not super happy with these. I wear them in the winter with socks. Now that I write this, I’m considering gifting these away. If you are a size seven and live in New York, I’m more than happy to give these a home where they would be more appreciated.

• Gucci smoking slippers: Very wintery in look, the bottom is leather, narrow in the toe box, and very formal to me. Also, they have logos on them, although faint. Similarly to the red suede Aerosoles flats, they are not the best in summer. They look fabulous though and I love wearing them to dinner.

• Rothy’s Mary Janes: I am embarrassed I own these, I hate the material, I don’t think they look good, but I can’t lie. They are so comfortable. I wear these with gym shorts in the summer mostly and would never wear them to work.

• Honorable mention: Red Repetto Camille ballet flats with a small heel. Now, these aren’t necessarily flat so I’m hesitant to add them here, but I wanted to warn anyone who has been eyeing these. I am someone that will wear shoes that are a little uncomfortable for short periods of time occasionally. I get it. Sometimes the outfit needs it. But these… these are pain. They pinch everywhere, they run small, they don’t stretch, and you have toe cleavage. The term toe cleavage came to my attention when my dad, who never mentions clothing on other people ever even if that means they wore a banana hammock to church, told us there was someone working in a warehouse that he saw with far too much toe cleavage and he believed it was a safety hazard. Maybe when I’m in Paris I will try some non-patent leather Repetto’s on and report back, but I am not feeling confident.

Ballet flats I did not try, but you should and let me know if you like them.

• Margaux Demi Flats: Lots of reviews on these but I just didn’t think they would be very comfortable for long walks.

• Quince Italian Leather Handwoven Square Toe Ballet Flat: I have been eyeing these a while, I love the woven material.

• Everlane Day Mary Jane: I saw these in store after I bought my perfect flats and they were incredibly soft and so beautiful.

• Alohas Rosalind Ballet Flats: Funky option! Great wide toebox.

• Heaven Well Within Soft Leather Ballet Flats: These look so comfortable, I almost ordered these but got return-fatigue.

Now that I am done with my search for the perfect ballet flats, I am on to the perfect sweater. Lightweight, maybe a bit sheer, with a tight and relatively thick waistband so I can fold it up and everyone can see how great my belts are. I want it to be comprised of mostly, if not all, natural fibers (although wool I have issues with occasionally, the only type not bothering me being cashmere), and I want it to be black and a neutral tan (both), but I could be persuaded to buy grey if it is perfect. I don’t want wide arms, I want them to be fitted. I am stubby in the arms so even if the sleeves are three-quarter length that is ok. I don’t want the waistband to go up to my chest and I don’t want the cardigan to be a funky shape. I want it to look like the perfect, almost shrunken cardigan with a bit of room to move around in. If I ever find this perfect cardigan, you will be the first to know.

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Every day, I write in a journal, and I have for years. Some days I write pages and pages and others, it’s just a to-do list. I’m not following The Artist’s Way; they aren’t morning pages. If I just extend this process a bit more, and write here rather than scribble in my notebook, I think it might help.

When I was a kid, I used to love writing. I mostly wrote songs and poems, always trying to be more grown up than I actually was. I loved the storytelling aspect. As I got older, I stopped. Maybe it was the change in my media consumption, a diet that consisted of YouTube videos and TV shows featuring troubled high school students I badly wanted to relate to and never could. Now, I want to take that same feeling back, getting into a flow state.

I want to keep the lack of barriers for my writing practice, like I do in my journal, and I want to do it five days a week and not the weekends, so it can fit right into my routine. I try to touch my laptop as little as possible over the weekends and I just know if I open it to do this, I would never get off. I have a hold on my calendar right now from 9 to 10 am. The perks of working with a lot of west coast people is being able to ease into my day and this can be part of it. Today I was twenty minutes late to the desk because I had to pick up my dry cleaning, but even 40 minutes of writing could help. On Tuesdays, I will write my other newsletter, which is less of a brain dump and more of a corralling of news that I find interesting.

I think about people who are able to write books. Sure, anyone can write one but not everyone does. It requires mental tenacity and finding a throughline in it all, whether that be the theme of a medical textbook or the storyline of a romance novel. Sitting down and just doing it is what separates those who have written a book and those who have not. Of course, publishing it is a different story. I am sure that’s a difficult part that I’m not taking into account.

Where I lack in spoken clarity, I make up for in sitting down and doing the damn work. You would be surprised how many people sit down and say they are going to do something and then don’t. So many people have dreams and aspirations that are crushed, not due to the lack of time or resources, but the absolute distraction that they let themselves fall into. I hope that my ability to stick to a routine and do the work, even on days like today where writing doesn’t seem that interesting and my brain feels empty, carries me.

I don’t have an end goal. Maybe I’ll write 100 issues and see how my writing changes over time. That might be fun.

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Something in between contrasto (Italian for contrast, where something feels different through comparison) and nyans (Swedish for subtle nuance, the small details you suddenly notice). Nothing changed, but you’re seeing everything differently.

Over the weekend, I visited my sweet friends that just moved. They are the first of us to ditch city life for suburbs, and not just any suburbs, Greenwich Backcountry. Greenwich is a beautiful place, the homes are massive with long driveways lined by trees. If you’re lucky to see the houses from the street, you can see the lawns are sprawling and cut all the same, so you can’t really tell where one property starts and one ends. It is manicured and perfect. I am making a generalization about Greenwich, most of it is like that to me as an outside visitor, but I know it’s quite large and the areas differ.

Greenwich, to my knowledge, is split between three main sections: Back Country, Mid-Country, and In-Town or Coastal. Backcountry, which is closest to Westchester County in New York, is very private. There are large acreages with estates and stables full of horses. Bordering that is Mid-Country Greenwich, which is more suburban and includes Stanwich Club, where I’ve gone for Christmas dinner the past few years. This is my biggest understanding of the region and I’ve been told it’s a very “classic Greenwich” suburban place. This connects on the other side to In-Town or Coastal Greenwich, which sits along the Long Island Sound. This includes Downtown, Cos Cob, and Old Greenwich. Here, life can be a bit more walkable and you have easy access to the Metro North to get into New York and I-95 for commuting, whereas Back Country is furthest from the trains and is much more quiet, secluded, and resembling a countryside more than any type of suburb I’ve been to. Backcountry is peaceful, hidden, and removed from normal life. If Downtown Greenwich yells, Backcountry whispers.

Unlike many of the Backcountry homes, my friend’s house is not an estate and there are no signs of equestrian life. It’s in the woods and is almost all glass. Their driveway is hard to find and instead of sprawling lawns surrounding the path, there are low stone walls and gardens. From inside the house, you can see there is a drop off in the back, and the stonework continues down, creating a path to the woods. Every way you turn you’re surrounded by either deep woods or bamboo, planted by the original owner of the house. To say it is stunning feels insulting, it is more than that. My friends have taken great care in preserving the landscape, spending hours and hours cleaning out the ever-expansive acreage.

Inside, their home is full of carpets from their trip to Marrakesh and pieces of Japanese art. Their furniture is curated to perfection, they both have beautiful taste. One half of the couple grew up in New Mexico and the other in Paris, right in the city. Their styles blend beautifully, although unexpectedly, and you can see that in their home. It isn’t a beige box, it isn’t a movie set. It’s warm and inviting and is straight out of a magazine. I love them together and seeing how beautifully they were able to conjoin their life in this home together makes me happy for them.

It was hard for me to not notice there were no knickknacks in their home. They gave us a tour of the whole place, inside every spare bathroom and walk-in closet, even where they keep their vacuum, and not a single knickknack was to be seen. I thought of my own home, a cobbled together one-bedroom apartment that I cherish but is far from anything I would call beautiful. If it weren’t for all the knickknacks, the apartment itself would probably fall to the ground. From my couch alone, I see four different types of bird knickknacks. One is glass, holding matches, one is plush with bunny ears from leftover Easter decor, one is wrought iron that looks like a pigeon, and one is a plastic bird driving a peanut my old roommate got me. I don’t even like birds all that much.

My apartment’s offputting nature doesn’t stop with the knickknacks. I have a great couch but it is an unfortunate one. It is the most comfortable couch you’ll ever sleep on, and many have done so. I can’t have a sectional or a pullout couch because I am in what they call a railroad apartment, which just means it’s one full floor that is very long and skinny. My couch is eight feet long and fairly deep, which can become even deeper when we take the back pillows off. It would absolutely be perfect if it wasn’t chocolate brown corduroy and far too large for the space. To spare my apartment, I won’t be sharing any more details, but I will say my friends had a large sectional all six of us could sit on with lots of room in between, plus comfortable chairs if people wanted to face the couch. I do not have any chairs other than my dining chairs and some stools I stack under my desk in case we have any visitors and I run out of dining chairs, which happens to be every time I have people over. They aren’t very comfortable.

At the end of the trip to my friend’s house, when we were wrapping up dinner, they pulled me aside and pointed up to a beam close to their ceiling. There I saw it, I finally saw a knickknack. It was the miniature cat figurine holding a fishing pole I got them last year. It was a dot of unperfect in a sea of Greenwich perfection. I had no idea how they could have gotten it up there and the thought of them discussing where to put the silly plastic figurine made me laugh. The cat figurine sat there smiling, overlooking their beautiful space just like I did all evening.

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I carry a big bag to work, always looking stuffed, and I think people can tell I have too many shoes by seeing my stuffed bag on the subway. A big, stuffed bag is a clear sign of someone who owns too many shoes. A whole wardrobe sits in my bedroom with shoes neatly organized into baskets on every single shelf. I even have a pair of shoes I bought for my twenty-second birthday that anyone would think are fabulous (a beautiful pair of vintage silk mule kitten heels. Put all those words into eBay and you will be dropped into heaven on a screen) but I never wear them. They sit in a box on top of the wardrobe.

One internal war I’ve faced head-on in my adult life is my inability to be sure of anything and my collection of shoes is evidence of that. I’ve never understood how anyone is truly sure of anything. Growing up it would take me hours to figure out what to wear, mostly focusing on the shoes. I am so short, that to me the shoes make the biggest difference. There is a huge difference, in my deranged world at least, between an event that requires height in the shoe or not. I would consult others, look at photos from the venue to see what people wore in the past, and compulsively check the weather because the only thing worse than wearing shoes that don’t fit the theme of the venue is wearing shoes that don’t fit the state of the weather. Would wearing heels be too much? Would I feel too short if I didn’t wear them? Would I be uncomfortable not wearing socks? Is this an outing that requires a shoe to have a sock? What if I want to go on a walk after and there are cobblestone streets and it starts snowing?

My sureness expands past shoes too. I haven’t had a full time job in years, unable to be certain that one company is right for me. I went to an engagement party for my dear friends that have been together since high school and couldn’t stop wondering how they were so certain that they were each other’s life partners for eternity. Love at first sight has got to be a chemical reaction more than a sign that the person is surely the one for you. When I first adopted my cat, I admitted to my boyfriend while in bed late at night, back facing him and looking at a wall, that I was unsure if I chose the right one at the shelter and I also had no idea if I would love her as much as I loved my previous cat. (This was so silly and thinking about it now I can’t believe I would ever say that but I did. I love my sweet cat Bodega more than my shoe collection and I was being dramatic, but you get the point). It almost feels like I am lacking some magical female intuition that everyone else has. The worst phrase I’ve heard in my entire life is “when you know, you know” because I’ve never known anything to be one hundred percent true and factual, ever. We are constantly debunking things we thought were known in the scientific world, so how am I, someone who is not a scientist, supposed to sit here and say I know something and am sure of it?

This unsureness has engulfed reality until now and my shoes have helped me see a sliver of self growth, even if it is minuscule to the eye. I think self growth is a bit like going to the gym in this case. I see it, because I see myself every day, but others probably won’t see it for a very long time. I know my unsureness is getting a bit better because over the past two years, despite my collection, I’ve worn the same shoes almost every single day. They are old mule loafers and they’ve seen planes, offices, bars, and grocery stores. They sit by my front door, not to be mistaken as a part of the wardrobe full of my other shoes. They aren’t very fashionable, they aren’t expensive, and they are more similar to something you would see a grandpa wear than someone trying to make a statement or replicate someone with impeccable taste from the 90s, but I am still so sure of them. I am so sure of them, that even though they aren’t the best shoes in the universe, I would get them resoled because I am so sure I will love them in the future. I am sure of something and that feels good.

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