Table of Contents
Hi friends!
I’m not really in the mood for writing or consuming media this week unless it’s The Real Housewives of New York. I’m scared for our world. I don’t really feel like I’m saying anything new, so I’d rather just keep writing about fun fluff instead of stewing on things I can’t control.
Making a big deal about my birthday
Wednesday was my 26th birthday, and it was a really great day. I’m really good at making my birthday a big enough deal. My paranoia about the world also fueled celebrating the perfect way so that I can have no regrets about my joy. I spent my actual birthday consuming yumminess and seeing Gypsy on Broadway.
On Saturday, I had a dinner and bar-hopping situation with friends, which I was really nervous about but ended up being fun. I was too laissez faire with planning and invited everyone on Partiful with a button you can press to invite everyone who’s ever been invited to an event of yours before. I ended up forgetting some people and accidentally inviting people I don’t know who’d gone to parties I jointly hosted. I’ve had a few friend fractures this past month in a few different groups, finding myself in the middle of dueling parties that I haven’t really tried picking sides on and am just now wondering if that’s the right move. I just want everyone to get along and have fun, but this week brought me out from under my rock. At least it seemed like everyone enjoyed my party.
I woke up today in a bit of a rut, but I’ve mostly been good lately. I’m trying to get back into 5 days/week at the gym since I’m not sick anymore, but my lingering cough stopped that. I’m going to try to send this out early so I can hit the gym then go to yoga and feel human again.
I looked at my birthday issue last year, and I feel like I’m more seasoned than then if that makes sense. I was depressed but not really letting myself feel that way, and I was having a hard time with living in New York during the winter. I think I’m attacking this winter better, but the world feels like it’s in a worse place. I certainly love to distract myself, though. My NH friends Dev and David drove down to celebrate with me, just staying for a night and causing a ruckus like we do so well. The best moment of the weekend was when the restaurant we all went to for dinner gave Dev a vegetarian alternative to our fam-style chicken dinner, and she ended up loving it.
Each of my past ages seem to have a theme. 22 was just sad — bye dad, new city, first job, catastrophic friend breakups, waiting for something to give. 23 was about fitness, going to the gym for the first time and letting it make every part of my life in New Hampshire better. 24 was about fun; I just moved to New York and was voraciously chasing silliness. I think 25 was about learning, falling in love with podcasting, falling back in love with reading, and establishing routines so I can feel whole.
I have no idea what 26 has in store, but I already feel it and I’m already enjoying it.
25 things I learned at 25
People are starting to think they’re getting old. Not me though! Y’all be easy.
If you can tell someone’s upset but they won’t tell you because they want to be immature, it’s not your responsibility to be the bigger person (unless you REALLY want to).
Hiding in the bathroom at any function can sometimes be the best part, even if it’s a function you’re enjoying. There’s something about that exhale that lubricates the whole event.
I feel like I have fewer slutty friends than I used to (as in, new people are less slutty and old people are less slutty than they used to be), or maybe they just don’t tell me about their sexcapades!
I’m seeing friends of all aesthetics and personality types go down the path of centering men (as lovers, friends, whatever) and others wholly reject it.
I continue to trust men less, even the ones with good intentions. I don’t know what can make young men as a species more human. Usually they’d fall in love for the first time and their girlfriend would teach them about empathy, but now those boys aren’t getting girlfriends because they’re potentially too misogynistic to be saved — and girls are finding fuller lives without men.
If you want to do something, you can’t wait for someone else to do it with or for you.
If I get into conflicts with people, it’s usually because I can’t accept whatever provoked it. I start at square one and am just in disbelief that something so stupid happened, so much so that I can’t get into solving mode for a while. I need to learn how to accept the premise, even if I think it’s unworthy of my energy.
I don’t think healthy friendships should ever end, just change forms and sizes.
I also don’t think friendships should be hard. This isn’t to say there should be zero conflict, but when there is, it should be in both of your best interest to listen and forgive quickly.
People really live in their own universes with their own colors and rules. If you want to keep them in your life, you have to accept those even if your colors and rules are different.
When someone says they’re ready to go home, respect it. Unless it’s supposed to be the best night everrrrrr!
Eternal and unfortunate reminder that your mom is always right about your friends.
Spread love freely! Kiss people on the cheek. Channel great aunt realness.
Spread love freely! Tell people that you love them even if it’s loose. With friends, I don’t think you can ever say it too much or too early or to someone too distant.
I don’t remember the last time I lied or made up an excuse for canceling something; I’m just honest when I’m not feeling up to it. I think people who aren’t at my level there are frustratingly immature.
Marriage and kids still feel really far away, which I’m not mad about.
I’ve hated my body this year more than most other years of my life, but I don’t feel like 26 will be full of as much self-hatred.
The best way to fight seasonal depression is to keep forcing yourself to go outside. Gym motivation helps this for me.
I keep correcting people lately for their mispronunciation of tzatziki. It is NOT pronounced “ta-ZEEK-ee;” it’s “tza-TZEE-kee.” Some of you need to get hooked on phonics again and sound out a word.
Nothing feels like how it feels to read a good book. Going to the gym, going to church, and doing drugs all feel the same if you’re doing all of them correctly.
After years of ordering tacos at Chipotle because it’s what I’ve always done, I transitioned to burritos and now, finally, bowls like an adult.
Maybe this is a delusional thing to say, but this was a minimal-FOMO year. I made time for the right stuff, but I also was not good at making time for just me until it got cold out.
People are constantly compensating for however they felt like their high school experience went, and it somehow feels more present now than it did a few years ago.
If you do good stuff for long enough, you feel better.
This week’s photo is from right before Meera and I crushed the 2-person chocolate soufflé from Minetta Tavern. It obviously slapped.
Current fixations I want to mention
Food & Drink
Can you judge a bar by its website? The Woo Woo has this 8-bit, purposefully retro website that I liked the design enough of to go. This speakeasy’s obnoxious, profane password is hidden on the site, so you can ring the bell and say it to gain entry. After descending a few flights of stairs, you arrive to a small entry room covered in 80s porn magazines. When you push the bookshelf in front of you, you’re transported to an open, neon bar playing the best hits from that decade. This bar is right next to a Broadway theater, so it’s the perfect place for pre-show drinks or to wow an out-of-towner. Our server was this extremely nice gay who gave me a free blowjob shot when I mentioned it was my birthday. The shot, which you’re not supposed to use your hands to drink, was actually sweet and delicious. The actual drink I ordered is called the Dirty Dancing, a sweet cocktail with a flambéd top blowtorched into a penis shape. It's all very obnoxious but very delicious. We ordered truffle fries which were thick and did not skimp out on the truffle, which is rare in this town. Tip is included and our server refused to let us tip more than that. The place is really queer, and the menu is on this fun laminated paper that’s supposed to be like a newspaper, including two “articles” talking about the bar’s philosophy. I’ll take any reminder to live an authentic life.
Music
I listened to two big albums this week: EUSEXUA by FKA Twigs and Hurry Up Tomorrow by The Weeknd. I don’t feel like I’m in the right headspace to take in new music and actually like it properly. I feel too stupid for EUSEXUA and too smart for Hurry Up Tomorrow. FKA Twigs’ new album is really good, but it isn’t something I can casually listen to and add onto a playlist. I think it’s meant for big headphones and walking in the cold for the entire album’s length. She gets minus points for doing a song with North West, but unfortunately that song is the catchiest one. I think “Drums of Death” is my favorite song because it scratches an itch…or maybe “Wanderlust” but that might be just because it feels like it has a normal song structure. Her songs feel more like performance art than digestible one-off songs. It’s good and I like it the more I listen, but I’m not smart enough to love it fully. As for The Weeknd, I would love this album if I’d never heard any of his past music before. It’s grand, the transitions are smooth, and the features are pretty fun. However, he isn’t giving us anything he hasn’t given before, and I find all the songs pretty forgettable aside from the singles I’ve had time to get acquainted with already. The latter half of the album is a snooze. Maybe I need more time with it.
Internet & Pop Culture
This is honestly pretty dumb and just something that I like, and I don’t really expect anyone else to. There’s this random (Canadian?) drag queen named Gravy who makes videos poorly freestyling verses on Drag Race songs. Each one talks about snatching the crown and slaying everyone. There’s this great mix of confidence and timidity that I look forward to every time she makes a video.
Television & Maybe Movies
I am fulfilling my womanly duties and am midway through the third season of The Real Housewives of New York. This season has been so interesting because we’re starting to see the housewives change as their fame grows. My mom hyped me up for this impeccable scene after Ramona takes her 14-year-old daughter, Avery, to her first fashion show. Avery is a pampered, conservative girl who we spend a lot of season one with. Ramona really loves her daughter to the best of her ability. Now in season 3, they run into another housewife who haphazardly invites Ramona to an after party to meet Perez Hilton of all people. Ramona takes her up on this and — get this — shoves Avery into a cab to go home so she can go out for the night. Avery looks so confused and asks I’m going home alone? because she clearly hasn’t been in a situation like this before. Ramona is happy to ditch her previous values for her newfound fame, and it’s going to be interesting to see her fall further down into debauchery. I’m still a Bethenny stan, and it’s just so cringe but real to watch her and Jill’s friendship end. Jill refuses to give Bethenny real closure and is incapable of moving forward. I’m so excited to get to the reunion episode and see how the public reacts.
Journalism & Literature
The world is making me sad, so I’ve been turning to history to escape. This week’s Bowery Boys episode “Italian Harlem: New York’s Forgotten Little Italy” dives into how East Harlem used to be very Italian before it was “Spanish,” full of working immigrants. It’s just interesting to learn about neighborhood turnover, which I’ve been reading more about this week in The Power Broker.
Something I Saw in the Wild
I chose Minetta Tavern for my birthday dinner because they offer very late reservations. As we walked down quiet Minetta Lane at 10:45 p.m. to hit the restaurant on the corner of loud, lousy MacDougal, we passed right by a couple. The boy was watching the girl, who was yelling and crying on the phone. She said, Mom, they framed us but we didn’t do it. She sounded more frustrated than sad.