Rise and grind

Friends, I am so sorry about my recent lack of effort in creating this for you. Last week, I prioritized sending a high-quality product but at a later date. Today, I give you a low-quality product on the day I told you I would. I’m not even editing this one because I want it to come out before midnight. I’m the kind of person that cannot give myself slack because if I do, I will not return to my previous prime. Because of that, I give you a diary-style stream of consciousness.

Every English teacher told me to show, not tell. But I’m telling you now: the main takeaway of this entry is the immense amount of privilege I have and how poorly I would probably do in an apocalypse (or maybe that’s what I want you to think).

As we all are at the start of the year, I am at a transition. In the endless search for self-optimization, I’ve had an unconventional start to my year, which is pretty conventional for most people — getting up early, working out, and working hard after. I’m both really good and really bad at this.

I wrote about my friend Aimee when I watched her run the New York City Marathon last year. When she told me she wanted to try my gym, we had such a great time working out that she got a membership. I love having a friend to work out with, and I haven’t had that in a few months. Only one compromise: Aimee likes to work out in the morning. Like early in the morning. The earliest I would get up for the gym was 9 a.m….when I lived in New Hampshire and had work in the afternoon.

Last Wednesday(? maybe?), I set my 7:05, 7:10, and 7:15 alarms to get my a** out of bed. I hopped on a metaphorical conveyor belt I don’t feel like I’ve gotten off of yet. I walked to the gym as the sun rose. I felt like I was on a drug, nearly euphoric to have unlocked the secret of mornings. I listened to a f****** podcast on my walk! I never listen to those! This one was actually educational!

I did a whole arms and abs before an entire day of work. I felt a lil’ crash in the middle of the day. I went to bed before midnight, which deviated from my norm of 1-2 a.m. The next day, I did the same thing. Talk about building a routine! After never getting up this early to gym it out, I did it two days in a row.

I felt myself getting more done at my job, which is more necessary than usual. The company I work for undergoing a merrrrgerrr and my duties are changing, most notably for this transition period. I’ve been a bit nervous about it. I want to make a good impression on my new colleagues and seem like a competent person.

After a rambunctious weekend, I found myself in bed before midnight in preparation for today. For the first time, I went into the office I newly can work at, which is a big upgrade from my various WeWorks. I hopped on my L stop with the other fake hipsters, those who wear leather at night but blazers during the day. I traversed to the very bottom of Manhattan then more than 20 floors up a skyscraper.

The office has panoramic views of the whole city. It’s gorgeous. I do not have much time to take in the views. It’s go-go-go getting used to all of these new systems. You ever have one of those work days that gets harder as it goes on? I’m locked into my laptop, save for a moment for lunch. I realized my friend Ryan worked down the street, so we got Chipotle. FiDi is so…FiDi…that I went to the wrong Chipotle and had to meet him at the right one, which was a four minute walk away.

Today was a mix of exhausting and exhilarating. I remember my boss at my last job asked me what my career goal was now that I didn’t want to be a journalist, and I responded that, although I didn’t know what I would be doing, I wanted to be staring out of a floor-to-ceiling skyscraper window at the New York skyline. I achieved that dream today!

But, girl, I am tired. So tired that my dose of humor in this entry is to say Girl, I am tired. I’m barely a week into being an adult and am already so done with it. I even had a youthful weekend of apartment hunting and partying! And I’m in office for the rest of the week…I’m so done after just one day?

I never know if I’m being too hard or too easy on myself. It’s a gorgeous mix. My commute home is one people take every single day, and I zoned out like the rest of them. I don’t have anything profound to say about the mundanity. I am just so tired.

The luck doesn’t end there — I come home to my girlfriend cooking me dinner. Wow. And she is a great cook! Honey, I’m home! Like every ‘50s man, I was dead behind the eyes. I understood every selfish husband in that moment. I needed a few minutes to sit before I could return to myself and converse like a normal person with Meera.

I’ve been feeling both inspired and uninspired. I’ve had less mental space to write here, but I’m also doing all of these productive things I’ve written about wanting to do. I’m extra exhausted because I don’t see an end in sight yet. I wonder if I’ll ever see a friend again, if I’ll ever frolic through a field again, if I’ll ever return to childhood, learn to read, learn to walk, breathe!

I used to feel this way when I lived in New Hampshire and worked in person every day. It took me a whole year to adjust to that version of adulthood, and I envied my peers who trotted through New York without a care in the world. It’s weird existing as someone with both of those parts now.

I’m not even reading this over before sending it. If you’re strung up on resolutions and goals for the new year, you’re doing good just by breathing. I thought about doing an ins/outs but making an in/out list is already OUT in 2024.

Despite its needless meandering, I’m happy about this entry because it will either show the beginning of my metamorphosis…or an off week.

I’ve gotten a lot of you telling me how much my newsletter has inspired you to pick up writing for fun again (and thank you for telling me!). I want to give you an opportunity to bring some of that writing to a slightly public sphere.

Introducing the Guest Entry Pitch Form! If you have an idea for something you want to write about, send it in through this page I just made. Again, this is just telling me what you want to write about — not an entire entry. I’ll email you and we can work out its kinks.

I was planning on advertising this new slot anyway, and my frazzled-ness today only amplifies my desire for it to work out. You don’t have to be a professional at all, and I will help edit whatever you write!

Want to write in Gentrifier Olympics? Pitch your ideas here.