Do I quit, or just submit?

Forget the plans and focus on your preferences.

What Harry Styles taught me about empathy, ethics, and how to be a good person

A life of moving forward without looking ahead.

What to do when your brain needs ‘rewilding.’

Being able to change one's mind, to switch gears and change course is less of a privilege and more of a survival skill.

Summer days are ripe with the promise of bonus reading time.

How might we invite more poetry into our lives?

A re-read of Normal People illuminates the brilliance of the new BBC series

Maybe it’s a kind of mid-life crisis, maybe it’s just the timely reboot of High Fidelity, but making playlists has become my latest grasp at journalism.

Life itself is the proper binge, said Julia Child, because of course she did.

I’m bored of design bros, I’m bored of consultant bros, I’m bored of chef bros, I’m bored of politician bros. Just ugh. Enough already.

There's a hole in my core that used to be filled with dough.

What’s the focus?

A high and bright sun rising up over the rooftops and and not fading into dusk until just around 7pm.

Gathering at the table for serious conversations about feminism and food.

Frankly, if you’re not making a wholehearted attempt at reducing your meat consumption these days, I don’t know what you’re doing.

You're free to have a chuckle at my expense, but in a recent newsletter from The Numinous, my weekly 'Libra Rising' mantra was, "I am following whatever feels the most like fun to me."

The construct of a 9-to-5 workday is irrelevant and disconnected from the rhythms of our creativity and productivity. Sitting at a desk all day is literally killing us slowly. Our growth conforms to the shape of its container. Well goodbye to all that.

Women’s achievements often get wrapped up into a “we” of team, having been taught that stepping up to an “I” is immodest and ungenerous.

Here’s to another 364 possibilities.

I’ve never stopped thinking of this time of year as back-to-school, ideas and pencils sharpened and ready to get cracking with some new material. Unlike most, I’m unintimidated by a blank page; it’s an invitation, an offer I can’t refuse. 

On special occasions, my grandma wore Chanel No. 5, the height of sophistication. When getting ready, she’d give me a tiny spritz “on my pulse points” that I would relish all day, sniffing at my wrists.

“A woman who doesn’t wear perfume has no future.”

On this full moon morning, my open mind instead invited thoughts of self doubt and loneliness. Lying on my back in savasana, I get stuck in a dire loop of feeling lost and aimless, homesick for another time, or maybe another life.

There is almost never a time when I’m not reading and note-taking, day or night. Whether I’ve diving into sourdough or startups, I invent a curriculum for myself with a syllabus full of required reading. Is there, perhaps, a word out there that describes this sort of compulsive learning?

I mean, what else?

I was one of those rare teens who knew exactly what they wanted to become– a journalist- a music journalist, specifically- and when I got to college, I didn’t want to waste a minute forging that path.

Looking into the three-way mirror I was perplexed. Who is this person? Whose body is this? What even is this construction of fabric?

You wanna pizza me?