Notes
Thoughts & Goings-Ons
Less, More
Inspired by William Jansson
Less
Screen time
Consumption
Pettifoggery
Guilt
Perfectionism
More
Creation
Fresh flowers
Reading
Paper
Silence
Coffee Dates
“I am not a good friend. I have never been capable of or willing to commit to the maintenance that the rules of friendship dictate. I cannot remember birthdays. I do not want to meet for coffee. I will not host the baby shower. I won’t text back because it’s an eternal game of Ping-Pong, the texting. It never ends. I inevitably disappoint friends, so after enough of that, I decided I would stop trying. I don’t want to live in constant debt. This is okay with me. I have a sister and children and a dog. One cannot have it all. —Untamed, by Glennon Doyle
The first time I read the above, I cried. And let me pause here to note that crying is not a default reaction for me. I’m more of a, “Boy oh boy, is my journal ever going to hear about this one” kind of emoter.
But that passage unexpectedly skewered a dark, hidden, ashamed corner of my soul. Glennon is obviously describing herself, but she could have been describing me down to the letter (minus the having children part, and I’m actually rather good at birthdays).
Only this version of me that I recognized in Glennon’s description? It’s not one that I celebrated, let up to the surface, or even acknowledged. It was more filed away under the “Deep Character Flaws To Hopefully Fix Someday” recess of my psyche.
This is perhaps entirely ego-centric, but it had never occurred to me that, I’m not the only one. I am not the only woman missing this friendship chip. Or at we’ve been told as friendship is supposed to look.
I was in my late 30s when I read Untamed, which means I’d spent 3+ decades hating myself for the very truth Glennon states with such confidence in another, related passage of the book:
“I am a sensitive, introverted woman, which means that I love humanity but actual human beings are tricky for me. I love people but not in person. For example, I would die for you but not, like...meet you for coffee. I became a writer so I could stay at home alone in my pajamas, reading and writing about the importance of human connection and community.”
Again, she it felt like she was inside my head. No, not my head. My soul.
“I love people, but not in person.”
I’ve never felt so seen.
There are exceptions, of course. My husband and I live and work in a small Manhattan apartment. And though we spend all-day, every-day together, I never feel drained in his presence. Perhaps because the most beautiful partnerships make room for long stretches of completely loving silence.
And I don’t never like seeing other human beings.
But like Glennon, I am not a good friend or family member in the classic sense. Glennon’s repeated references to “meeting for coffee” hit especially close to home, because a coffee date” is my actual nightmare. Even when it’s proposed by someone I love dearly.
Because that’s another thing I know about myself: I do love dearly. Deeply.
It just doesn’t look the way it’s “supposed to.” To repurpose Glennon’s phrasing, I don’t always love best in person.
You won’t find my most treasured experiences or connections on my Calendars app or Resy/Opentable history, because that’s rarely where they happen.
They come in the form of long weekly email exchanges with my friend Jen. These emails take me hours to write, and I cherish every minute of the process. When I get her equally long emails in response, I feel closer to her than anyone.
Or in the way my friend Laura and I will go months without any kind of interaction, and then drop in with out-of-the-blue text message that skips right over any sort of “what’s new with you” nonsense and drops right into something raw and weird.
Or a recent extended text message exchange with a family member that went deeper than any in-person conversation I’ve had over appetizers in more than a decade.
The email or message I write someone after we’ve hung out in person, because I’ve had the time my little brain needs to process all the things that were said aloud, so that I can respond with more depth than I’m able to in person.
It’s taken me decades to figure this out, but I think I was put on this earth to write. Stories, ideas, emails, text messages, letters, blog posts, captions.
Writing is my purpose, my higher calling. It’s what I do better than anything else, and though it’s taken me awhile to really get this:
It’s how I connect.
I’m not saying that everyone is like this, and I’m not saying my way is better. But I think I’m done pretending face-to-face is better for everyone.
When I first read Untamed several years ago, my biggest take away was the relief that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t the only “bad friend.”
But I recently revisited the book, and this time, something new jumped out at me.
Not just that Glennon acknowledges this about herself, not just that she’s brave enough to put them in writing for the world to see and judge, but that she takes it a step further:
This is okay with me.
This is okay with me.
It’s a scenario I’ve never let myself even contemplate.
To be okay with ... me.
No wonder I cried.
Astrology & the Mid-Life Crisis
One of the first things I learned in my astrology journey after getting a handle on my birth chart and turning my learning towards transits was the oft-discussed Saturn Return.
It happens for everyone around age 30-ish and 60-ish. For the newbies out there, your Saturn Return is when Saturn has moved through all 12 of the Zodiac signs to return to the same place it was when you were born.
For example, on my birthday, Saturn was at 1 degree Scorpio. It returned to that position in October 2019 when I was 29, and will return to the position again in 2041 when I’m 58.
The short version is that your Saturn Return happens every 30 years, and its effects coincide with 2ish years of transformation. It’s a time in your life when you find yourself taking stock of your life, and are forced to reckon with the things that haven’t been working to make way for growth.
And in hindsight, I can see that my first Saturn Return happened right about the time that I blew up my entire life, quit my job, and moved across the country. But, I’ll confess: since I discovered astrology several years after my first Saturn Return, and well ahead of my second, my understanding of Saturn Return is retroactive and conceptual, rather than personal.
Which is why given my own age (42 as I write this), I’m much more actively engaged with a less-talked about transit.
The Neptune Square.
The over-simplified explanation here is that every 40-ish years, Neptune (for reference, she’s a slow-mover through the zodiac signs, so you generally share your Neptune “sign” with everyone people born the same time as you) moves into a position that’s 90 degrees from where Neptune was the day you were born—this is also known as your natal Neptune.
Anyway, in other words, this is kinda about Neptune squaring herself; where she was when you were born, and where she was 40ish years and 90 degrees after that date.
Now, in astrology, Neptune is generally a soft, floaty planet; she’s all about dreams, intuition, and spirituality. I always think of Neptune as the mystic of our planetary influence, the one who can access the other side of reality’s veil. I’m convinced that if you’ve experienced déjà vu, Neptune was probably involved. And if Neptune were a Harry Potter character, she’d be Luna. And yes, I know Luna means moon, but I said what I said and stand by it, and if you don’t know who Luna is or you’ve cancelled JK Rowling, don’t even worry about it and move on.
So back to Neptune Square. (Again, a square is simply the 90 degree angle between two planets). A square is a slightly more antagonistic aspect. Not bad (because there is no bad in astrology), but squares tend to bring conflict and friction on their path to growth.
In this case of our Neptune Square, this conflict and friction paired with a dreamy and ethereal planet means that we find ourselves questioning our life and purpose on a more existential level. It’s not uncommon to hit the Neptune Square right around 40 and all of a sudden look at everything you were steadily building in your 30s, and think,
“Wait? Is this it?!”
It sounds familiar, right? The cliché of the family man with a steady, well-paying job and responsible sedan who all of a sudden hits 40 and buys a leather jacket and red convertible, and quits showing up to work. The woman who’s been completely committed to her role as mom, and all of a sudden is like, “Hold up…where did I go?” The church-going homebody who comes home one day with a tattoo and a ticket to Dubai. The free-spirited hippie who decides at 40 that she wants the picket fence and sweater-set after all.
Most of the times, we know this as The Mid-Life Crisis.
Only us astrologers know that maybe there’s a planetary reason for it: The Neptune Square.
To ground this in something personal, I’ve been in the midst of my Neptune Square for the past couple years (though I didn’t know that was even a thing it as I was going through the heart of it) and I have been jokingly tell my husband that I start every single day writing the same thing in my journal:
What am I doing with my life?
Heavy stuff for such a whimsical planet!
And it kind of felt like it came out of nowhere. I was cruising along. Living my best life as a New York Times bestselling romance author (casual flex), something I’d wanted since I was about eight. And then all of a sudden around 39ish, something … shifted. It was no big epiphany (Neptune’s not like that), but more of a slow feeling of … maybe not discontent, so much as a sudden lack of obsession with what I thought was my dream.
And I think they were my dream. I don’t think I was lying to myself or unhappy in my 30s. And I’m 42 now, and actively writing another rom-com. All I can say for sure is that I found myself in a really confused and painful place right around 40. Every morning felt like I was waking up wanting something different, but I couldn’t quite see what through a relentless fog. I felt lost. Like there was something bigger and unknown for me out there, but that I just couldn’t see.
For some people, this is making room in their life for self-exploration and new “just for fun hobbies,” to go vegan, or sober, or to make their whole identity about marathons. Others might return to or explore religion for the first time, others find themselves in nature. And yes, others buy the cliché car, or get the tattoo in desperate attempt to scratch the elusive itch. To feel the void that’s always just out of clarity’s reach.
As far as how I finally found myself? Well, let’s just say that it’s finally making sense to me why, after a lifetime of rolling my eyes at astrology and horoscopes, and standing firmly in the camp of “prove it with science or get out,” I find myself immersed in all things tarot, witchy, and astrology.
Neptune is often about spirituality, and for me it definitely was.
My husband, I think, has struggled with my transformation. He used to be married to a woman who would laugh alongside him with the idea of Sedona, AZ being a vortex. A woman who had never even checked her horoscope, much less write them. Who didn’t have very specific thoughts of the Four of Swords card in tarot.
But these days, days, an entire section of our bookshelf is taken up with astrology books and tarot cards. He actually knows not just what VC moon is, but when it is, because I tell him every morning over coffee. He knows his own moon sign, and I don’t think he’s happy about that he knows it. (Though he’s a Virgo Sun and Capricorn Rising, so who can blame his skepticism…).
His journey is different, but no less present, in that subtle, but insidious way that is Neptune’s nature. My husband doesn’t believe in astrology, and that’s just fine by me, but I do. So I know his exact Neptune placement, and that he hasn’t been immune to The Change. His experience looks more like new and quiet boundaries that I don’t think he’s even realized he’s started to set the past couple years. The way he creates and protects time to be reflective and creative, while simultaneously making less time for small talk and shallow social niceties. He spends time spent with a pen and paper instead of on the computer, and has stocked our bookshelf with philosophy. He’s started saying no more often to other people’s agendas (mine included). Not in a defiant, rebellious kind of way, but more in what I think is his instinctive need to make time for depth instead of expectations.
As an enlightened society, we often brush off these phases as being simply part of the process of getting older. Wiser.
We can blame or attribute it grown, cynicism, or boundaries or “life’s experiences.”
The midlife crisis.
Or, we could pull up our birth chart, learn where Neptune is in the sky, relative to where it was when we were born, and allow the thought to slip in:
“I wonder…”
That is, after all … what Neptune asks of us.
Sagittarius Season
Welcome to Sagittarius season, aka that time of year you find yourself googling “can you learn archery as an adult” unironically and thinking maybe you should get around to that backpacking trip you considered for a hot minute four years ago.
It’s that time of year that wants all of us to forge new paths and say yes to adventure and the unknown.
If you’re new to astrology…
Welcome, newbies! A few things I wish I’d had spelled out plainly when I was first learning …
When I say “Sagittarius season” I simply mean stretch of time that from November 22 to December 21 2025, the sun in tropical astrology (the branch I talk about) is currently passing through the Sagittarius section of the Zodiac.
So, yes any baby born during this window would in fact “be” a Sagittarius, but I want to explain something that I struggled to grasp when I was first learning, even though it feels obvious now:
There’s a difference between Sagittarius season and being a Sagittarius. Pop astrology sometimes treats “the signs” like people or personality traits, and that can be fun, but it’s not really accurate. The Zodiac signs are more like energy; which is why you can have a lot of Sagittarius traits, even if you weren’t born in November/December (one or more of your birth chart’s other placements might be in Sag).
And even if none of the planets or your key points were dancing through Sagittarius when you were born, that doesn’t mean when you’re immune to its effects when a planet passes through Sagittarius now.
What is Sagittarius Season All About
Sagittarius energy is all about expansion and exploration. It often gets sort of over-simplified as the “traveler” energy, as though all of us will suddenly itching to hop on a plane, planning optional. But I think of it more as being about momentum. It can be about physical momentum like taking a trip or going somewhere new, but the less-talked about side of Sagittarius is that it can also be about mental and emotional momentum.
Think: fresh ideas, new directions, tackling big questions, or just an overall feeling of bright boldness, even if that’s not our usual nature. Sagittarius follows the introspective Scorpio season, so seeds you were planting during that inward-facing phase (even if you didn’t realize you were planting them) are breaking the surface and seeing the sunlight.
Here’s a personal example:
For the past several months, I’ve been scared to put my astrology-related content out there in public. In the few weeks right Halloween, I went sort of deep into the trenches (think lots of journaling) of trying to get at the root of why; what was holding me back from just… posting. Sharing. Talking about something that honestly gets me really excited.
The why is a whole other blog post for another day, but the short version was: I realized it was fear. Fear of putting myself out there into the world of astrology, tarot, witchcraft … all the woo stuff that has been calling to my soul for a couple years now. And at the root of that fear: fear of being judged for putting myself out there as a spiritual creator. Both from people in my personal life, who are not even remotely into or open to the mystical world, as well as classic imposter syndrome; fear of judgement from astrologers and tarot readers who’ve been at this so much longer than me.
It was a painful realization, and also necessary. And can’t say that the fear is gone, but it’s no coincidence that this past week, I’ve felt an influx of bold, “eff it, let’s just do it” energy. Thank you, Sagittarius season!
For you, it might look different. Maybe you’re wondering if it’s time to a new relationship or apartment. Maybe you suddenly can’t get enough of reading, perhaps in a new genre. It could be a new obsession with a hobby, philosophy, or project.
Or maybe it’s a little vague, a bit of restlessness that you’re not quite sure what to do with or what it wants from you. That’s okay! Make room for the exploration and then follow it!
Think of it this way: Sagittarius’s symbol is the archer. Imagine that you’re the archer. Point your arrow in a new direction, and then follow it.
It could be a detour, or it could be momentum on something you initiated previously, but the key is follow-through.
10 ways to make the most of Sagittarius Season’s Vibes
Book a day trip you’ve talked about for months and never taken.
Take a walk in a direction you don’t normally.
Pick a topic you’re curious about and go down a YouTube rabbit hole.
Rearrange and declutter one corner of your space so it feels less cramped and more open.
Sign up for an online course, an in-person class, or make time to visit a museum you wouldn’t normally.
Compliment someone; not their hair, their shoes, but something you genuinely admire about them.
Try a new brand genre, whether it’s music, podcast, or books.
Plan something fun for a random Tuesday instead of saving everything for weekends.
Dig up that “someday” list and choose one thing to act on in the next 30 days.
Take a different route to the grocery store even if it takes a bit longer; better yet, try a new grocery store!
Whatever it is that’s been calling your name, here’s your permission to get curious, dream big, and take your shot.
Your Compass
Your body is your compass.
That little knot in your stomach?
That’s your body telling you something is amiss.
The moments when your body is still and relaxed, your limbs lose and easy, when you don’t have to remember to take deep breaths? That’s telling you something to.
it knows when you’re at peace.
Pay attention. Pay attention to your body.
It knows when you’re in alignment with where you’re meant to be and who you’re meant to be.
It knows when you’re out of alignment too; when you’re trying to fold yourself into a role that doesn’t fit. Or trying to expand into a place that isn’t yours.
The next time your mind or the rest of the world is insisting one thing, but your chest feels tight, at the thought, take note. Pay attention. Listen.
Your body is a compass. Trust its direction.
Let Go
Dear Intorvert,
Let go.
Of the guilt of letting a message linger while you read a book, took a walk, watered your plants, or just existed. Of the guilt for letting the call go to voicemail.
Let go of guilt for saying no to brunch. For leaving the party early. For sending an email to the person who loves to gab on the phone. For passing on the big family reunion because you connect better one-on-one, or in writing. For having one friend instead of twenty. For being the quiet one at the table or meeting because you were thinking instead of talking. For not visiting, not stopping by, not speaking up, not performing.
Let go of the narrative that connection only has one definition. You are allowed to choose honesty over performative presence, and clarity over obligation. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for the people you love is to show up only when you can show up fully and in the way you can show up fully.
Not half-there, not because it’s expected, not stretched thin, not wishing you were somewhere else.
And the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to stop apologizing for that.
Best easy onion dip that actually tastes like onions
The old classic of stirring a packet of Lipton Onion Soup mix into sour cream to make a quick dip is a standby in our house. “Dinner” is often a huge platter of chopped veggies, Kettle jalapeño chips, and onion dip.
I say dinner in quotes like I’m mocking it, but actually it’s one of my favorite “dinners.”
So, I’m feeling smug to announce that I’ve improved the original with very minimal additional effort. Spending just 2 extra minutes will give you a satisfyingly chunky dip that’s more flavorful, more balanced, and more visually pleasing than the basic version.
What You Need
sour cream, 16oz
Lipton onion soup mix, 1 packet
red onion, 1/2 (more if you’re feeling bold, less if you’re delicate)
everything bagel seasoning, I use this one, but I don’t think it really matters
a bowl of some kind, we just mix ours directly in the food-storage container we’ll put in the fridge later and save a bowl.
What You Do
Stir your Lipton soup mix into the sour cream until well mixed
Chop or dice 1/2 a red onion. Pretty small, but not minced. Don’t overthink it. Stir the diced onion into the sour cream mixture.
Add several aggressive shakes of everything bagel seasoning. I don’t measure, and you shouldn’t either. Trust your heart.
Serve with veggies, crackers, chips, or as I just did, scooped onto Triscuits with a glass of rosé while standing over the kitchen sink like a god damn lady.
Some Thoughts
You can eat it right away, but if you’re serving it to guests, give it 30 or so minutes in the fridge first. This will give the dry bits in the Lipton soup mix a chance to rehydrate so nobody gets any “gritty” bites. That said, we never wait that long when it’s just the two of us, and regret nothing.
Yes, 1/2 a red onion is going to seem like a lot, but listen, onion dip should taste like onion. Adding real onion adds flavor, texture, and the bite of raw onion helps cut the richness of the sour cream in a good way for a more balanced dip.
But you can do less onion if you want. Or more! Be crazy.
You can also soak the onion in ice water for a bit to chill it out, literally and figuratively.
Bonus: onion has nutrients and antioxidants that are good for you.
Could you do an onion varietal other than red onion? I don’t see why not.
Can you even taste the Everything Bagel Seasoning? I honesty couldn’t say, but I’m not also not willing to omit it next time either. At the very least it makes the dip look like it’s more complex than it actually is and poppy seeds add a touch of elite snobbery that is most welcome in a dip made from a powder found in the soup aisle.
August Slipped Away
“August” isn’t my favorite Taylor Swift song, but I’ve always loved this line:
August slipped away like a bottle of wine.
And as I write this in late August, the line feels even more poignant.
I’m relatively outspoken about the fact that I am not a summer person. I’m not really a sun person. I’ll take a cloudy day over a sunny one, a rainy day over a cloudy. I do not like warm weather, and I loathe hot weather.
Still, for the most part, I made it a point this summer to let summer be summer, to find things to enjoy about it. I wrote a whole post about my intent here.
Months later, as summer* comes to a close, I think I did a pretty good job. I’m not going to say that my heart hasn’t lit up the past couple days which have been rainy and in the 60s here in NYC. Or that I didn’t watch this video by my favorite slow living YouTuber and immediately want to bake something with pumpkin (the fact that I like neither baking nor pumpkin says it all).
But mostly I went out of my way to find things to enjoy about summer in the city, and succeeded.
The way the sunlight crept into our bedroom at 5am, and the spectacular sunrises that often followed. The regular visits to our neighborhood bar where everyone knows our name (I know, I know) on a hot sticky day, where it’s almost entirely locals at the bar, sharing the same, “It’s hot as hell, but we’re home” kind of camaraderie.
I discovered my perfect summer top. This tank from LuluLemon which is technically a running top, but add a necklace and a skirt and it’s as “going out” friendly as it is gym-friendly.
(Trust me, the mesh at the top can be either sporty OR fancy…though by “going out” I mostly mean to the local bar mentioned above…)
We have a little cheap bistro-type table in our bedroom with two really uncomfortable chairs. It mostly doubles as a recording studio when one of us needs to be on a call/zoom or video without bothering the other person in the main part of the apartment that serves as living room/office/dining.
But this summer we’ve brought cocktails, a scented candle and conversation to that little table, watching both sunsets and thunderstorms over the Hudson while tackling all those big topics that lurk beneath the surface without us really realizing it until they’re out.
What are we doing with our lives? Are we responsible for other people’s own emotions? Is it selfish to tether our happiness to other people? And is it selfish to choose what brings us peace? Are we supposed to love our work, or are we meant to separate out work from play? Is AI ruining the world, or saving it? Why has life gotten SO much better since we distanced ourselves from the news?
Light, casual stuff like that.
Anth’s little indoor garden is thriving. My art cart has gotten daily use. I love my summer quilt a weird amount. Toast in the morning. Salmon for lunch. Whispering Angel Rosé. Golf is on every weekend, afternoons and evenings spent reading by daylight, no lamps required.
August slipped away like a bottle of wine.
I’m more aware this year that summer is coming to a close, but for once, I’m not trying to hasten it away.
I won’t miss it. But I’m glad it was here.
* My soul lives by meteorological summer, which ends on August 31st, not astronomical summer which ends September 22. I live in a world in which September = autumn.
gezellig
gezellig (adjective)
noun form: gezelligheid
A Dutch word without a perfect English translation. It’s more of a vibe—a sense of warm contentment.
Think: groups of of friends laughing in a bustling bar on a rainy night. Curled up the couch beside your favorite person with a good book and a flickering candle. A thick piece of toast and a cup of tea.
It’s about a place, a moment, a feeling that makes you want to linger.
Further reading: https://dutchwafflecompany.us/blogs/blog/what-does-gezellig-mean
Eat The Frog
Eat the Frog is a productivity approach created by author Brian Tracey, author of Eat That Frog.
[ Eat That Frog has always felt a strange word choice to my mind, so I always refer to it as Eat the Frog, but the concepts are identical ]
It involves choosing the most crucial, challenging item on your to do list, and doing that first.
This ensures that you don’t procrastinate by doing the easier/more fun tasks and risk “the frog” getting pushed to tomorrow. It means that your day will feel like “smooth sailing” after the frog’s out of the way, no looming sense of dread.
In practice: Simply write your to do list for the day, then circle the task that you’re dreading the most (because it feels hard or unpleasant), and do that first.
A personal note: If anyone were to ask me how I published 40+ books within a 10 year span, I’d attribute it to Eat The Frog. When I’m on deadline, my daily wordcount always comes first (well, after my dog’s needs, and if I had kids, after theirs). But I don’t check email, or social media, or the news, or even my text messages until the writing is done. I don’t do laundry, unload the dishwasher, I don’t even shower until the daily wordcount is done.
Writing is hard, or at least it is for me, therefore writing must come first.
The good stuff
The good stuff.
A passport full of stamps. Big family gatherings. Kids on the honor roll and varsity soccer team. Brunch plans. Dinner parties full of laughter that last until midnight. Book club, the New Year’s Eve party, the weekly Friday pizza after the softball game. Getting the promotion, hosting the fundraiser. A full holiday table. The annual beach trip with your best friends, the surprise party for the milestone birthday, the backyard barbecues, the tickets to that concert. Catching up with someone over coffee, trying that new restaurant everyone’s talking about, baby showers, bridal showers, themed costume parties …
These, we are told, are the moments. The ones to savor, chase, cherish. The ones that go on the holiday card, the social media posts. The ones you rattle off when asked “what have you been up to?”
You know. The good stuff.
And maybe you enjoy some of these, or all of these.
Or maybe your favorite moments, the ones that you savor, chase, and cherish, look different.
Maybe your idea of the perfect day is a completely open calendar. Perhaps that’s your idea of the perfect month.
Maybe you’d love to spend weekend nights with your favorite TV characters while texting “your Person,” even if they’re seated right beside you. Not just some weekend nights. Most of them. All of them.
Perhaps you love to travel locally, or alone, or not at all. Maybe your idea of the perfect holiday involves pajamas, a really good sandwich, and peaceful solitude.
Maybe your closest and most cherished friendship centers around mailing them books you think they’ll love. Perhaps you love best from afar, or connect best through handwritten letters or funny postcards instead of in-person conversation.
Maybe the best thing about your year was finally finding the perfect bedding and getting consistently good sleep. Perhaps it was filling a sketchbook cover to cover, or your kids discovering the joy of a pillow fort that lasted a full week. Hours spent alone in your garden, toiling over the manuscript you’re meant to write, watching the sunrise and the sunset.
Perhaps your love language is inside jokes exchanged via text message. Or being given unlimited space. Or that person who never forgets to say Happy Birthday even if you don’t talk to them the rest of the year.
Maybe you feel intense joy in cooking the same meal over and over, or watching the rain, declining the phone call, or having a corner of the house that’s entirely your own. Perhaps it’s a really good peach. Your favorite song on repeat.
Don’t let anyone try to tell you these are the in-between moments, these are the moments.
Only you get to define your good stuff.
You are not the power supply
Dear Introvert,
You’ve heard that introverts need alone time in order to “recharge,” and you know this to be true.
A party on Friday leaves you craving a silent Saturday. Lunch with a talkative friend leaves you wilted. A family visit leaves you longing to hibernate for a month.
What you may not have heard:
You are under no obligation to have your batteries drained in the first place.
You are not the socket for other people’s recharge, leaving them full and you empty.
There is no rule that says you must operate at 50% in the name of being sociable. That you have to let yourself get down to 25% in the name of being a “good and caring person.”
Alone time is not merely a recovery aid, a reward for “going to the thing.” You are allowed to make alone time your default state. You are allowed to make choices that enable you to stay at 100%
Save your batteries for the absolute “musts,” and let the rest of the world find their own power supply.
You are not broken
This is the first entry in my Dear Introvert series—a collection of mini-essays dedicated to the quiet ones. I’ve felt called to write it for months, and am finally gathering the courage to put out there.
Dear Introvert,
You have been called quiet. Shy. Urged to “come out of your shell,” raise your hand, be more social, go more places, do more things.
To speak up, connect, to participate.
As though the only way to participate in being a human is out loud, face-to-face. As though if you just changed this tiny little thing of your entire personality, then you’d really thrive.
This is wrong. You do not need to become louder or more sociable or to meet other people where they are in order to be whole or worthy. To live a fulfilling life.
You are not less because you’re quiet. You’re not faulty because you like being alone. You are not flawed because you’d rather dream in the dark than dance in the light.
You do not need fixing. You are not broken.
Why years seem to pass faster as we get older
Proportionality
One year is a much larger fraction of a kid’s life than an adult’s. At age 10, a year is 10% of our entire life. At 50, a single year is only 2% of our life. The older we get, each year takes up “less space” in our overall lived experience. It feels less big, because proportionately, it is.
Memory Density
Our brains encode new and novel experiences with more richness than they do routine experiences. Childhood is filled with first-time events, while adulthood tends toward routine. Because we tend to have fewer “first experiences” as adults, our brain doesn’t have as many “memory markers” to flag.
Attention and Processing Speed
As we age, we process information more slowly and release less dopamine (a neurotransmitter tied to time perception). This means we may have less sensitivity to short intervals, making time feel as though it is passing more quickly.
Mathematical Modeling
Studies suggest our brains measure time on a sliding scale: as we get older, we become less sensitive to small chunks of time, so days and years feel shorter.
Réfléchisseur
réfléchisseur
An old/archaic French word that translates to “one who reflects/ponders.”
Some thoughts
I first came across the word while reading Montaigne, and it’s lingered ever since. I’m not sure why exactly other than I love the idea that there’s an actual term for someone who thinks instead of consumes/scrolls. Someone who will read a book and sits with it for months before writing a thoughtful discourse rather than rushing to TikTok to give a 90 second “hot take.”
The Fugio Cent
The Fugio Cent
Minted in 1797, the Fugue cent is the United States’ first official coin. It was made out of copper and thought to have been designed (at least in part) by Ben Franklin.
The front of the coin has a sun and sundial above the word Fugio, Latin for “I Fly.” At the bottom of the coin are the words “Mind Your Business,” thought to have been Franklin’s advice to American citizens, to, well,… mind their business.
On the back of the coin there are 13 linked circles (representing the 13 original colonial states) forming a chain around the words “We Are One.”
Chronotypes
Chronotypes describe the natural timing of your body clock—when you’re wired to wake, work, and wind down.
Chronotypes in Biology
Chronotypes are the nuances of our our individual Circadian rhythm. All of our bodies run on an internal clock that regulate sleep, alertness, and energy levels on a 24-hour cycle. But not everyone’s “clock” is set the same: some people naturally wake early and feel sharp in the morning, while others peak later in the day. Research shows this is influenced by genetics, age, and exposure to light. This is often measured on a morning-evening spectrum rather than in rigid categories.
Chronotypes in Pop Science
The popular version translates these rhythms into animal types—like bear, lion, wolf, and dolphin. They’re a simplified way of talking about whether you function best early, late, or in between, but have no medical or biological basis.
Bear – Energy follows the sun: awake with daylight, tired after dark.
Lion – Early riser with peak focus in the morning.
Wolf – Night owl who hits their stride later in the day.
Dolphin – Light sleeper with irregular energy and alertness.
Further reading: The Power of When by Michael Breus
5am
I wake up around 5am most days. I rarely miss a sunrise, and when I do, I’m disappointed.
When people hear this, they either think I’m nuts, or say something like, “Ugh, I wish I were a morning person…”
This post is for the latter group who wants to get up earlier, but “can’t…”
Listen, I’m not going to claim that chronotypes aren’t real, but I am going to tell you this:
I have not always been a morning person.
In my teens and early 20s, I could probably sleep until 11am when allowed. By my mid-to-late 20s I was in the corporate world with a desk job, where 9am meetings were the standard, and even then I would stay up well past midnight, and my mornings involved constant negotiations with myself, bargaining for just “one hit of more snooze button,” because I could get by without washing my hair one more day, and traffic probably wouldn’t be that bad…” Coffee was always hastily made, chugged from a travel mug in the car, and rarely enjoyed.
Learning to wake up at 5am took practice and a deliberate commitment to change.
I decided I wanted to be the type of person who woke up early, and it didn’t happen overnight (heh). And it took years of relying on a dreaded alarm before my body finally learned and loved the new rhythm.
As to the common argument that you can’t fall asleep early enough to allow you to get up early …
Well, here’s the unpleasant reality to that: You’ve got to be willing to put in a few days/weeks forcing yourself to get up at 5am even though you went to bed at 1am. It means you will be temporarily tired.
But being tired means you will also be excited for bed earlier than you’re used to.
And spoiler alert, the earlier you go to bed, the easier it is to get up early. Being an early riser is as much about your bed time as it is your wake-up time.
I’m not arguing for turning everyone into morning people. If it sounds like hell, don’t.
But for those who do want to join the sunrise club, take it from a former “night owl…”
You can change if you want to.
Picture: My Commonplace Book
Here’s a photo of my Commonplace book. I always love seeing other people’s notebooks but am too shy to share my own. Trying to “give back” a little bit…
Minimalist Websites
I relaunched a website template I built last year, but am always too nervous to put out into the world because its style is so very different from all of the other big website template shops out there. Much like my own website (the one you’re on now), it’s deliberately minimalist—so much so that I rebranded it as such from Capsule to … The Minimalist.
Not only do I love the aesthetics of an intentionally simple website (they’re harder to design than you would think—because there are so few details, the details matter), but text-focused websites are also incredibly user-friendly for both the site owner and site visitors.
I spend way more time on a website with a bunch of text links and content than I do one with animated buttons and giant banner images (also, they load faster and look equally good on mobile and desktop)
Here she is…
If you want to buy The Minimalist.