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Table of Contents
Hi friends!
Most of you probably had a bleak, cold week, but I have to brag instead because it was my birthday on Thursday. I love my birthday and love caring about it. Being 27 feels big and appropriate.
I also spent a lot of this week making this newsletter better. When I switched hosting platforms last year, I imported all of my old entries, but their formatting didn’t come through well. A year after knowing this is something I needed to remedy, I finally reedited all of them to look and flow more like how my entries are now. If you find a Mailchimp link I might have missed or anything else that looks strange, let me know. Check my searchable archive!
I also want to edit my website instead of keeping it in its default template. Since having thumbnails looks better on these sites, I went through and added them to all of my entries. It was super fun scrolling through my camera roll or sharable Google Images and finding pictures from those weeks that fit. I think they’re only visible on the web versions and not through email, but I’ll find out this week. I’ll have thumbnails at the top of my stories going forward, which will probably be a lot of sunsets and streetscapes. Today’s, though, is a picture Andje took at my party.
Why I am the best and worst host
Best
I am fun
My friends are fun
People mingle and meet each other either organically or through my manipulation
Great music
People can do or bring whatever and whoever as long they tell me first
Worst
I get so nervous about making sure everyone is having a good time
There is never a time I am madder at my friends (as a whole, not individually) than when they don’t follow my explicit or implicit party rules
My natural party state is to eventually be locked into a long conversation with someone in a corner and make both of us feel special, but I cannot do that when I have to bebop
I struggle balancing when to be responsible and when to be selfish
I love being all about me but am instinctively skeptical when everyone else is being all about me for the night
I Icarused with the invite list. I invited everyone that’s ever smiled at me and still forgot some people. Everyone wanted to bring their friends. A great philosopher once said A friend to all is a friend to none, and I was really being a friend to none.
I hoped it wouldn’t be too many people to fit into Blazers, the bar I chose for my party. It’s a new women’s sports bar in Williamsburg that I went to once before and thought Their back room would be fun to dance in if we moved the tables. I wanted to be the perfect guest for them while hitting the bar minimum.
They haven’t hosted a ton of events yet, particularly dancey ones. We were the first people to bring DJ stuff. My friend Tashi has spun for pregames and a family party before, but this would be her first time DJing for a jury of her peers. My birthday gift request to Meera was to perform a set of all songs I love and to not know any of its contents until it was happening. I wanted both ladies to have a good time and feel loved. I hoped their equipment would fit the bar, loud enough for the party but quiet enough to not disrupt other patrons or neighbors.
I was getting nervous in the weeks before the party, even though this is supposed to be an exciting thing, because I always get stressed about hosting. I am the one who curates this chaos and get mad at myself for doing so. This time, I decided that I would break this self-inflicted curse. By acknowledging that I am this way, I had time to voice my fears and delegate tasks to people who were happy to be leaned on.
I ended up having such a great day. After emerging from bed, Meera and I called Tashi and Jamie (my fellow DJ WAG) to tie the final bows of the night. This got me so excited, and Meera and I then shopped for party fits. The jumpsuit I rented ended up being too big, so I decided to put an Anthropologie gift card to good use. Meera and I rarely go shopping together and were electrified by the search for the perfect dress. Meera found these cheetah pants and really advocated for me to choose this cheetah dress from deep within the sale rack. I was skeptical of its ruffled sleeves, but it ended up fitting perfectly. I got a tiny blue purse to finish off the gift card.
Blazers’ sound system isn’t fully set up yet, so we had to bring our own speaker. After the one we ordered was too delayed, we stopped by Best Buy on the way home. Getting ready and cleaning the house in case we had afters made us 20 minutes late to the party, which made me want to crawl out of my skin but at least sounded chic.
If you are looking for a fun place to host a party, I could not have had a better experience than at Blazers. One of the owners was there the whole time to help me with whatever and bought my first drink. The drinks are delicious, the staff is unbelievably kind, and the space was great. I was not worried about meeting the bar minimum, and there was no rental fee.
Our party was in the back room, and I was worried that it would disrupt the front, where the bar is and the millennial lesbians were watching basketball. Thankfully, two large doors separate the rooms and keep everyone sequestered. I hope I get to host more parties there.
We moved all of the tables to the perimeter and had ample room for dancing and chatting. Lots of people came in and out, and the space didn’t feel cramped. Everything went off without a hitch aside from a friend’s phone getting stolen at the next bar we went to (lesbians would never steal a beautiful woman’s phone like that).
Our room reservation started at 6, and I was nervous about turnout with such an early party. Plus, how and when and how much should I feed people? A few Fini pizzas did the trick for our early birds, and the timing just meant that more people could come if they needed to hit two events within the night. There were enough people to watch Tashi and Meera’s fabulous sets and subsequent B2B.
Comparing Tashi and Meera’s DJ styles makes me think of cooking a meal. Tashi follows her musical recipe to a T, being extremely technical and methodical about how songs fit together. Meera cooks based off of instinct (both in the set and in our real-life kitchen), instinctively adding spices and guessing what her ingredient proportions should be. Both ladies are great cooks and DJs.
I felt quite indulgent having my girlfriend craft a whole set for me to scream at, wondering how she would balance hitting my niches while keeping the collective engaged. She had certain songs she knew were crowd pleasers (“B2B” by Charli), others that would just be for me (Canadas Drag Race season 1 finale contestant remix of RuPaul’s “U Wear It Well”), and even made some of her own mashups (“Like That” by Doja Cat x “Mesytara” by Lamis Kan, probably coming to an FYP near you).
I like seeing new and old friends meet each other and specific friend mashups that only happen in the context of my parties. I think having a party is a social good (sorry to sound all Joy is Resistance) and brings meaning to the people you love if done well, instead of being a frustrating obligation (in the dead of winter). I always like seeing who surprises me as party all-stars, people who put themselves out there with others or who have an extra special moment with me amidst my comings and goings. Two of my favorite guests were a couple I haven’t seen in months that took full advantage of the night.
I did so many green tea shots and still got out of there hangover-free. It’s so fun to be refreshed by friends you haven’t seen in awhile and to lean on your major supports you see constantly. I said that I didn’t want a dessert or anything because I knew we couldn’t feed so many people, but Meera and Gabby surprised me with a cake anyway. Martha’s Country Bakery was just down the block, after all.
My only fall of the night was a physical one, mistaking the hardness of the snowy ice I stepped on emerging from the Uber to our second location. I rolled my ankle and am still recovering, but at least my ankle is no longer the size of a golf ball. This actually was perfect because I was ready for home anyway, so my friends were understanding of my early departure and still got to enjoy the rest of their nights. Everybody had wins.
I think I always have a little emotional slump after the highs of my birthday. However, I’ve been having a lot more fun with writing lately and think that might be the key to bucking my yearly trend. Speaking of yearly trends:
The theme of each of my years (postgrad)
22: Sad (bye dad, new (and weird) city, first job, catastrophic friend breakups, waiting for something to give)
23: Fitness (going to the gym for the first time and letting it make every part of my life in New Hampshire better)
24: Fun (just moved to New York and voraciously chasing silliness)
25: Learning (falling in love with podcasts, falling back in love with reading, and establishing routines so I can feel whole)
Now 26? Relationships, easily: friendships, romance, and how they all evolve together. My 25 things I learned from 25 was a clear foreshadowing of this, as most of them had to do with friendship.
I don’t feel like I can be the friend I want to be for everyone because I like too many people and overbook myself. When I’m spending time with someone, I forget about everyone else I’ve ever met and am just in love with what is in front of me. This is present and fun but doesn’t create the depth I wish to carry in the times between seeing someone. I am not much of a one-on-one texter, which creates low-maintenance friendships (not a bad thing). I think I’ve also become less likely to make plans and therefore spend time more with people that initiate with me, which is different than I’ve been in years past. I just want to be the best friend I can while/by still listening to my needs.
I’ve also found that my friends are more forgiving than I initially gave them credit for (even though they showed no indication of being unhelpful — I just always assume that people will eventually disappoint me). Adulthood has been a continual shedding of teenage and juvenile distrusting of peers. I am lucky!
26 things I learned from 26
People really think they’re getting old. Not me though! Y’all be easy.
Most of my friends aren’t my age; they’re mostly a year younger or a few years older.
I now feel far enough away from undergrad in my interests, values, and reflections.
I’m far enough to retry activities or reassess what I thought were rigid truths about myself from my first year in New York.
But I am channeling my high school self in how much I value group chats.
Biggest lesson of the year in three words: just say it.
Biggest lesson of every year in five words: it’s really not that deep.
You can’t expect people to do what you want unless you say it.
You can’t expect yourself to do what you want unless you say it!
You are only as much of a loser as you say that you are.
Once you get past the corniness, writing positive affirmations actually is helpful.
Talking to yourself will make you feel better, journaling while seated or recording voice memos while on the run.
Nipping it in the bud is almost always better than waiting.
Risks are there for the taking whenever you’re ready for them.
You’re allowed to let go.
When you’re looking for something, the universe provides opportunities for you to find it.
The more I watch The Real Housewives of New York, the more I say the word fabulous.
It’s now been a smidge over 5 years since my parents’ split and last talk with my dad. My mom opened a whole bagel shop, Ben started and graduated from college, and I had two stints in two cities. This period truly feels far away, and I’m forgetting details I used to rattle off with ease.
Dissonance between someone’s real-life persona vs. their social media or text language is off-putting.
Everyone around you always wants more from you but not in a bad way.
Some of the most memorable nights start from sitting alone with a book at a bar.
It’s really hard to drink less when you prioritize being social, but it’s slowly getting easier.
Cool people you actually like that are fun don’t need alcohol to have fun, and neither do you. Unless you aren’t fun.
I’ve gotten better at curing hangovers, but it’s gotten harder to overcome the malaise.
Just book the thing.
I am a writer! Like, I’m totally allowed to say it. I write a lot!
This week’s photo is from my birthday party. Cassandra handed me her phone with this written on it during Meera’s set.
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Current fixations I want to mention
Food & Drink
New York will always keep me romantic because it is always in control and shows me what I actually need. For my birthday, Meera and I tried walking into COTE to replicate the the transcendent experience we had for Justin’s birthday, but it turns out that they only seat two-tops super early or super late. We improvised a route to a few backups, but I hoped we would have success at Michelin one-star Casa Mono. We thankfully nabbed bar seats at the Spanish spot and warmed up in this dark, cozy cove. Everyone was really nice, and our sommelier recommended a very delicious, inexpensive white with a name I forget. This is a nice date spot with a huge wine list. Our server recommended 4–6 tapas for two people, and we got 6. We boxed most of the last two, which made for lovely leftovers. We started with pulpo, which was maybe some of the best octopus I’ve ever had. It was so crispy and not super fatty atop a refreshing salad. I can never say no to croquetas, and these big boys were steamy with an unconventional-but-welcome orange accent. Mussels had chorizo falling out of the shell into the yummiest broth we dipped the complimentary bread in once we soaked up its olive oil. The goat confit was kind of weird but mostly good. The goat itself slapped as did the pistachio and avocado, but something about the sauce didn’t hit. I don’t think it was bad; it was like it hit a sensitivity of mine. The skirt steak was tender and warm but was not a must-get. Patatas bravas were plentiful and are always fun. I could have told them it was my birthday and got a dessert out of it, but why would I do that when Caffè Panna is around the corner?
Music
I’m at the tail end (or maybe beyond that) of being an early adopter of Ninajirachi. Ryan showed me one of her songs over Christmas, and I knew I needed to get into her newest album. I Love My Computer has musings about relationships and self from a chronically online person. Some are dancier, while some are for chunky headphones and looking out at snow from a warm living room. One of my favorite artists from my nerdy preteenhood is Anamanaguchi, a band that rejiggered their instruments to make 8-bit sounds (most digestible song is one I still love called “Prom Night”), and she feels like a more grown-up, palatable successor. Some of her songs reminded me of Kero Kero Bonito and Princess Nokia in their whimsy. Most of the songs don’t really fit into my playlist vibe, but my favorites were opener “London Song,” bigger hit “F*ck My Computer,” and boppy “Battery Death.”
Internet & Pop Culture
Mike The Situation Sorrentino from Jersey Shore is opening a rehab, which is hopefully very cool. What is hilarious, though, is that his intervention room (called The Situation Room) has a framed picture of him that looks like a presidential portrait, American flag and all.
Television & Maybe Movies
I didn’t go into Sunday caring enough to watch The Grammys, but I watched most of it anyway. There were so many random production foibles that made me feel like we had shifted to a slightly different dimension. I’m happy with the majority of wins: joyful, fresh-faced Olivia Dean is a great Best New Artist; Gaga deserved her various wins; Bad Bunny’s Album of the Year could not have gone better. Although I liked other songs more than “Luther” by SZA and Kendrick, I am happy that they won Record of the Year and even happier with Cher’s ramble beforehand. The best moment of the night was when she read that Record of the Year goes to Luther Vandross. Girl, what decade are we in? Thankfully, Kendrick used her fumble to make a beautiful speech about him and his sample on the song. I think the obit performances, although beautiful, were too long. I did love the flowing of Best New Artist performances and think that Addison Rae did the best, channeling Britney for a new generation. I was not interested in everyone’s God talk tonight, but if people like SZA can show that any political affiliation can claim religion, then maybe it has a net positive? I don’t really want to hear about it at all, but it seems like this matters to people. Jellyroll is frustrating. I’d much rather hear Lola Young still get the f-bomb on the air after the censor thought they were done bleeping her. Teyana Taylor gets the Sydney Brown Hottest Person Award.
Brianna Bryson/Getty Images
Journalism & Literature
I try to avoid talking about him or listening to him, but I learned a lot from “The Superhuman President: A good-faith attempt to ascertain the truth about Donald Trump’s health” from Ben Terris at New York Magazine. Terris gets lots of face time with POTUS and his head cronies. It’s a great peek into how his inner circle enables him and spins the truth. Hearing Rubio and Miller in particular doing this is wild. Emperor, no clothes…you get it.
Something I Saw in the Wild
I took a few long walks this week despite the cold, one starting at Gabby’s place in Crown Heights and stopping at Noor’s on my way home. I saw this car in Bed Stuy and really liked the ways we can use the phrase Don’t Blame Them — Train Them!
Bark Bark