Is it even possible for a late 20s, early 30s person to post on social media if it doesn’t involve professionally photographed engagements, child rearing announcements, and or photo evidence that you (as a doctor, with a shameless plug that you are in fact a doctor), received the Covid-19 vaccine?Does the algorithm only show this kind of content?
A mere four ish years ago everyone was just dating as the opportunity presented itself. You’d go out on the weekend, since that was the lowest lift type of social interaction — getting drunk — and you’d meet a nice man from…
If you could design each and every day to your exact liking, what would that look like?
What’s the difference between better aligning yourself to your interests and plain recognition that work is hard?
Why is it so hard to motivate yourself while alone?
How is it possible to feel your personality and general self development has regressed? The evolution already exists, how could it just go away? Was the evolution real or just a change of environment or reality?
Does changing your reality change who you are? Can you change reality by how you interpret it or literally changing…
I recently read James Nestor’s highly anticipated book, Breath. The thesis of the book is that breathing through your nose has more health implications than we thought.
Recently I found myself lying in bed, unable to sleep nor calm myself down — a common occurrence for me this year given the unusual amount of uncertainty we’ve been tasked to interpret. I thought back to the third chapter of this book and decided to test out a theory. It worked faster and more palpably than I could have ever imagined.
Living in New York City was loud. You slept for about an hour a night, for six months straight. You were exhausted nearly constantly. Your apartment was on the first floor, the very first unit of the building, right on an avenue.
To be clear, this was not some cute, relatively quiet side street. Those rent prices were a bit out of your range. This was Christie Street, the south of Houston 2nd Avenue. Four lanes of bustling traffic in the heart of Downtown, right outside your window. The other thing that was right outside your bedroom window was the…
The phone rang.
He stared at it, took a long drag of his cigarette, and exhaled. He knew exactly who was calling. How could he not?
He wanted to pick up the phone, really he did. He wanted to make things right and ensure she wasn’t hurting. But it was too easy letting an extra six seconds cushion the reality of what was about to happen, and what he had already done. Closing his eyes, he allowed the faint hum of Frank Sinatra on the record player to drown out his thumping heartbeat and pangs of guilt.
The phone rang…
His alarm rang at the usual time of 4:30 am. Ordinarily, it would be difficult to wake up so early, but he had not fallen asleep to begin with.
If he got up by 4:30, he could make it to the airport by 5:30, and somehow make it to an 11:30 am Eastern time meeting. He lived in Santa Monica. If only he had thought to book his hotel starting on Sunday night instead on Monday. It’s not like he hadn’t been traveling for the past 5 weeks straight. What’s one more night in a hotel?
He rolled face-first onto…
“What’s the name on your reservation?”
“And you’ll be here for 3 nights?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“Great. So where did you come from?”
“Like…most recently come from or come from in life?”
The corners of the Hostel manager’s mouth turned up as he chuckled, “I guess both.”
“Well, I just drove about 7 hours from a farm outside of Auckland. I was Woofing there because I wanted to learn about sustainable agriculture. It was pretty cool I guess, but also mostly…terrible? Hence the 7-hour drive to escape to Wellington. But in general, I’m from the States. …
Liza had not packed “party clothes” for her year away, and for good reason. If anything, she wanted a break from drinking at restaurants and bars. A break from putting forth an image that felt probably slightly less than authentic. In DC it felt like that’s all anyone did. Happy hour after work turning into a night out. Waking up the next day for a boozy brunch first thing, with festivities carrying on through the night. It was expensive, exhausting and honestly boring. People getting drunk, scared to have real conversations, masking their self consciousness with an exorbitant amount of…
Interested in the human experience