Summer Solstice in the City

Weekend Reads v. 21.6.2025

Photo by yours truly. Apologies to Meghan who always has to wait for me to snap photos of signs and street corners.

I’m writing to you from a hotel in midtown Manhattan. It’s the kind of hotel that attracts tourists looking to buy a snow globe at Macy’s, take the elevator to the top of the Empire Center, and gaze up at the Statue of Liberty. It’s also the kind of hotel that is trendy in the right way and has a reliable coffee shop downstairs.

Since I was 6, I’ve visited New York City regularly for vacation, to attend church, to run errands, and for work. For so many years, I longed to live in this city. I imagined a life bursting with lunch dates, weekends spent running errands at my regular spots, and a Rolodex bursting with vibrant friends. I got all of those things, just on the other coast. I traveled to many places, but it was always this city that seemed so elusive and exclusive to me until one day it wasn’t.

As I walked some of my favorite streets today – Christopher Street, Madison Ave., and that stretch of Broadway in Soho that feels like an outdoor mall – I realized this city isn’t that much different than when I visited as an intimidated 16-year-old. Girls still think they are special by all dressing alike in their matching sets of Lycra shorts-and-tank-top accompanied by a tote bag. Finance bros still look ridiculous when they are trying to impress. The people who fell through the cracks still linger on park benches.

New York in and of itself isn’t magical. No city is, really. It's just a collection of buildings and people and maybe a few parks thrown in by the Council for good measure. It’s the glimpse of a cotton-candy sky between buildings on King St. that feels magical. It’s discovering you’re sitting next to a member of the Philharmonic in a restaurant stuffed with tiny tables and chairs that makes you feel connected to celebrity. It’s the reward of successfully navigating from one end of the borough to the other that makes you feel mighty. That magic people feel in New York might just be their own experience talking. It is such an unnatural place, after all. Here, the mundane can feel exhilarating.

There’s also something to be said about coming to New York City when you feel comfortable in your own skin. Because you’re always smack dab on top of others, this is a place that can feed off insecurities if you let it. But if you’re not concerned with the bank account of the guy to your left or the BMI of the girl wearing the aforementioned Lycra to your right, the city rolls out like a kaleidoscope of whimsy and beauty before you. While there’s something to be said for experiencing a city when you’re living on ramen and dreams, there’s also something to be said for experiencing a city when you can pick up the tab without always having to refresh your bank account app.

For so many years, I’d hoped – expected, really – to call this place home, but now I realize this wasn’t a city where I’d thrive. That honor went to Los Angeles, a place that smoothed off so many of my rough edges I wonder if I’d have been able to be who I am without her. New York stood firm with me – she would not be my hometown, but she would be a place that would welcome me through every stage of my life. She’d be here to show me how to have fun, how to be brave before an important meeting, and how to mark all the stages of my life.

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“I need to be a rich man” and other truths about singlehood.

Regardless of whether you are a student, knee-deep in a career, or retired, summer presents the opportunity to slow down. One writer takes full advantage of the permission the month of July provides to take a step back by going on an “annual screen sabbath” from her work as a blogger and podcaster during these 31 days. Even if we can’t afford to take an entire month off, this essay is a good reminder that we all need hard breaks from the daily grind.

On a related note, this piece about resting fallow for the summer – staying off screens a bit, reading more, and embracing slower patterns – was an interesting one.

This list of 100 practical life skills every 18-year-old should have is a good list for the over-18 crowd as well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few skills to pick up.

For all those who are spending weekends picking berries, here is a wonderful round up of recipes calling for berries.

When I’m in a reflective mood, I see I’ve played the role of self-saboteur. Perhaps it all comes out in the wash because if I hadn’t sabotaged those opportunities then I would not be where I am today. But this essay encouraged me to consider places in my life now where I may be selling myself short.

“I suspect that part of the reason it is so easy to fall into a self-saboteur’s state of mind is that we refuse to fully accept the incremental nature of success. It may seem to us that painting for 10 minutes today would accomplish nothing. So instead, we jump right to the end of the journey in our minds and imagine ourselves having succeeded already. And the first time we do that, it may well be that the satisfaction we get from the fantasy exceeds the rewards we’d derive from doing the work. While the accomplishment is, in the former case, unreal, the size of it makes up for its imaginary nature, at least on day one. The real achievement, by contrast, would be small at first.

But imaginary achievements are no achievements at all, and real achievements are small on any given day. Over time, however, they accumulate, and begin to pay dividends. On the flip side, the self-saboteur’s failure is gradual also. You cannot waste your life today. At worst, today you can waste a day. Of course, wasted time too accumulates.”

But seriously, why are people so obsessed with drinking massive amounts of water in the U.S.?

“The radical act of seeing black men.”

Reimaged rugs as art.

This jewelry with glass pendants feels very 90’s to me. Speaking of, GOSH everyone under 24 is dressed like they walked off the set of My So-Called Life, and it is making me feel quite old.

A series of screenshots reveals Chat GPT is a liar. (This.was.facinating.)

Finally reading this novel and so far, it’s outstanding.

The temps are starting to flirt with triple digits in American cities, so I want to take this opportunity to tell you a woman wore this into my office while wearing a suit, and I promise I’ve never seen such a boss move in my life. Portable fans don’t have to be lame; they can be lifesavers in the summer. (Obvs she removed the fan much like you’d remove a coat upon entering the cool, lifesaving AC in our building.)

Here are a few photos I quickly snapped yesterday that you might enjoy. What quick photos will you snap this weekend?

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