there is time

6.21.26 - 6.27.26 Journal

6.21.26

Went for a walk with J and spent the entire time talking about what happens when we die. My favorite topic! Not kidding. We sat on a bench staring at a tree with a hole in the bottom. I told him I believe in reincarnation but only in the “who knows!” type of way. I believe in it because it’s comforting to me, it helps me cope. Not because I have never-ending faith that it’s true.

He told me he believes death is just the end. You’re snuffed out like a candle. He says that’s most likely to be true based on the evidence we have. I said I don’t know, there are plenty of things science doesn’t know yet. There’s a magic in the not-knowing.

We watched dogs splash around in a lake. It was so cute and I was so glad they are not my dogs & I don’t have to have a wet dog in my home if I do not want to.

We finally made the itinerary for our upcoming trip to Paris and Amsterdam. It’s right around the corner but I feel how I always do before travel - totally not processing the excitement, only a bit anxious for the amount of time I’m about to spend away from my usual routine. I yearn for the days of childhood when I would stew in anticipation for a trip. What the fuck happened to that little girl? ​

It’s father’s day so I gave dad a call and sent him a letter and he said it made him teary-eyed. This is suspect because I have quite literally never seen that man cry. But his response did make me cry. Sentimentality from a man who generally operates on logic alone is enough to tip me over and pour me out.

J and I went on one more walk before hunkering down to work for the night. We walked past a man and woman passing a bottle of wine back and forth and heard this snippet of conversation: ​

The man: “I don’t like your boxed wine.”

The woman: “This isn’t fucking boxed wine, are you insane!? It’s berry wine.”

6.22.26

I started reading An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures by Clarice Lispector this morning. I read “life isn’t a joke because in the middle of the day you die. A human being’s most pressing need was to become a human being,” and audibly said ‘holy shit.’ My annotations are very dumb so far but I’m having a great time.

I put on a serious outfit to work by myself at home. A black button down sleeveless top and a flow-y white skirt. Last year I saw an influencer from Spain wearing an outfit like this. All of my friends agreed she was my doppleganger. I literally posted a picture of her in the outfit on my personal Instagram story and got DMs from friends saying “love your outfit!” totally oblivious that the woman in the image was not me. So I decided to patch her outfit together for myself because I am insane.

I walked to the dentist in the rain. On the left wall of her office was a painting of a flower with “tranquility” written in script at the bottom. I laughed a little to myself because it felt like they were trying to cast a spell on me. “You will be so tranquil while I scrape your teeth.”

I don’t floss enough (I know, gross) so she gave me a tooth shaped mirror & demonstrated how to floss which made me feel like a 5 year old. But she was right. I was flossing incorrectly & needed to be taught a lesson.

6.23.36

I had a call with a client who was back from a bit of a hiatus. We talked about getting the project manager out of her mind, looking for ways to bring PLAY back into the process & using her podcast as a way to quiet the productivity worm that infiltrates every moment of our lives.

I sent her away with the question - what would this look like if you just prioritized doing exactly what you WANT to do THAT DAY with your podcast and let it grow from that? What if you took away some of the arbitrary rules and deadlines you’re putting on this because this is the one place in your life where you actually have the flexibility to do whatever you want?? Without an audience, a monetary incentive, or a boss telling you what to do, you have the most creative freedom you will ever have. What does it look like to make something when you’re truly free?

I wouldn’t give the advice of ‘take away all constraints & deadlines’ to everyone. Many people (including myself), need to learn how to work within constraints to feel most creative. But for some people, constraint is the default in every area of their life & they need to learn how to go with the flow.

I’m OBSESSED with using our creative projects as a way to give ourselves what we need & enhance our lives outside of the project. With this client, we don’t even use the word project. We call them sandboxes to further distance the mental project manager.

6.24.26

I’m irritated by how terrible some of the paths in Prospect Park are. It’s not accessible! I think of the disabled, the elderly, and the guy we watched fall flat on his face on his morning run and I wonder why we’re made to navigate buckling tiles in a park with such heavy foot traffic! Am I curmudgeonly!? Maybe!

I just walked to the used bookstore a few blocks away and the woman working there had the most insanely gorgeous hair. I didn’t compliment her because I was already feeling awkward after putzing around with the step stool to grab The Left Hand of Darkness from the top shelf for a friends birthday tonight. I walked away shaking my head at myself because I should compliment people when i’m thinking nice thoughts about them.

At home, I got to work while J made lunch. Sometimes, I become aware of how much noise we make. Just vocal stemming literally all day long. Like, if I was an outside observer watching us go through our days, I might be like “holy shit! do they ever shut up?” We’re singing non-sense. We’re doing improv duets with almost no conscious awareness we’re doing it.

6.25.26

My body is exhausted. I specify my body because my brain feels perfectly awake. Most of the time, it’s both. Today, I feel oddly imbalanced. Like my limbs are made of cement but my head is floating around unencumbered.

Perhaps this means today would be best spent laying in bed writing? Or maybe I should go against that urge and move my body because doing nothing can often be MORE exhausting than doing something??? Ring me if you understand the answer to this dilemma!! Taking care of my body leaves me confounded like nothing else!

I saw this quote by Nabeel S. Qureshi on Henrik Karlssons essay yesterday:

“Doing things is energizing, wasting time is depressing. You don’t need that much ‘rest’.”

This quote is equal parts irritating and fascinating to me. I think two things can be true at the same time. This might be some productivity culture bullshit while also being advice that holds some merit. I deal with chronic fatigue and mostly let it keep me in bed so I’m not cosigning this sentiment but I do want to experiment with the idea. Would it make me feel better or worse to go to the gym when my body feels exhausted already? I can only find out by trying.

Back from the gym. I’m both pissed off and relieved to find that working out did make me feel better. I almost feel like I am on drugs. The cement feeling is totally gone.

Frankie Simmons is right:

I am in love with people who can reframe things like this. Hell yeah! When I work out, I’m adding extra seasoning to bedtime and it’s going to feel awesome. That’s more motivating to me than...maybe anything I’ve ever seen. You cannot trick me into working out by making it a game!! Sports do not fool me! But the idea of seasoning my bedtime absolutely does.

6.26.26

Tonight, I’m going to happy hour with people I love a lot but haven’t seen in a long time. I have a bad habit of convincing myself that certain friends are too busy for me. My friend Lauren is such a social butterfly, I don’t always reach out because I don’t want to encroach. Mama is flying in so many circles, we have to let her spread her wings!! But when I do reach out, she always invites me along to whatever she has planned.She’s a generous super connector that has the uncanny ability to bring out the people person in me. I always feel like my most open, talkative, uninhibited self around her.

When I met her during freshmen year of college, we’d sit in her dorm room for hours getting high and eating frozen reeses. I’d record our conversations (with consent, lol) & then listen to them like a podcast in the morning. I’m a freak for podcasts, what can I say? I still have some of those conversations saved as voice notes on my phone.

I loved listening to her talk and I still do. Now, we meet up at all sorts of insane events she has some tangential connection to. I swear, she’s connected with this entire city. This time though, she just said she missed me. We have no event, no plan to meet up for. She reached out to me simply because she wants to see me and maybe it sounds a little childish but it’s reassuring to know I’m not just a tagalong friend, I’m someone she thinks about when nothing is going on.

Just read this article: Growing up is becoming who you were at 12, except this time you like her. & now I’m thinking about how I used to wear GIANT bows in my hair when I was 12. When I moved to a new school in 8th grade, they started calling me bow girl. In the school I was at before that, all of my friends wore bows by the time I left. I can’t confidently say it was me who started the trend but it’s not entirely outside the realm of possibility!

I don’t have the patience to look through old photos but I just peaked into my mom’s first day of school album & found this treasure:

The bow belt OVER the NYC graphic T? Perfection. She knew where she was going. The converse? Incredible. She was making it very clear she had Never Shout Never playing on that ipod & I respect her for that. I also had floral oxfords that looked like a pink version of this(the $5,000 price tag has to be a joke, right??).

Catching up with friends was nice. We spoke about breakups and move-ins, dead ants & dead deer. Around a tiny circular table in a loud, low lit bar, we confided in each other about how our ideas of god and motherhood are changing. On the way out, I saw the bartender from a place I used to frequent on the Upper West Side. Tipsy and astounded at the way this stranger had appeared in another borough, at another bar, I initiated an interaction with him that was so socially inept I refuse to retell it here.

6.27.26

Saw this tiktok on the bus. Started crying on the bus. Listened to the tiny snippet of the song all the way to Bushwick. Sometimes, I see what people are making and I’m convinced they’re Earth angels casting spells to calm us all the fuck down. This being one of those times.

I pulled myself together to get off the bus and meet my cousin for lunch before his flight out of town. I feel like an orange that’s just been peeled. Like my defenses are down & my guts are gonna come out and spill all over the table. Vulnerable and defenseless.

Luckily, my cousin is a college kid who just spent a week wrangling high schoolers through Brooklyn. He’s full of light-hearted, boyish charm and he doesn’t say a thing that makes me feel sentimental and weepy. We talk about the music he’s making with the drum set in his basement, the places he’ll go after graduation. You can feel the lifetime of possibilities spanning out in front of him. It’s interesting talking to someone who sits at the precipice of so many forks in the road. Oh, the people you will be. Oh, the places you will go.