At the beginning of 2025, I was full of hope. In February, I boarded a flight to St. Louis for a final stage job interview with a six-person panel. The role was remote, would return me to a senior-level position, and felt like the perfect next step in my career.

I got a rejection email a few days after returning from the trip. I was shocked. I had tried and failed at not getting my hopes up.

In true writer fashion, I wanted to write about it. But I felt a sense that the story wasn’t ready. People get rejected from jobs every day. There wasn’t enough tension.

Winter turned to Spring, and Spring brought a cascade of events.

In April, I joined my usual weekly one-on-one call with my manager, and HR was there. I was laid off.

No more than five days later, water was coming out from behind our TV. A bad storm damaged the house we were about to put up for sale—the house that my rapidly deteriorating mental health depended on selling.

Two weeks later, I got a credit monitoring email that said, “Check in on your new accounts.” I hadn’t opened any new accounts. Someone (a still unidentified scammer) had used my name, birthday, and social security number to take out thousands of dollars in fraudulent student loans.

I’ve long loved this quote by Philip Roth: “Nothing bad can happen to a writer. Everything is material.” And the material was quite literally pouring in (out of my house’s walls, for goodness sake!).

I had my story’s tension. I had my material. I had an almost constant eyelid twitch that my therapist said was likely a physical response to stress. Now what?

I’m not afraid to write about hard things, but I tend to only do it in retrospect. When the crisis is unfolding, I may take a few notes, but I’m not writing an in-the-moment analysis of my feelings. I can’t meaningfully observe a fire that I’m desperately trying to put out.

Instead of writing, I made my husband a witness to about one mental breakdown a week. I texted my best friend to say I could handle one or two of these things at a time, but not all of them at once. Couldn’t I have just been unemployed? Did I really have to be job searching in a terrible market, fighting with insurance to fix water damage, dealing with the house-listing process, and handling an identity theft case at the same time?

I maintained a certain distance from the urgency of it all to keep from completely losing my mind. But for once, I didn’t push past the feelings or push them away.

In a version of Christianity that I used to subscribe to but no longer do, folks have a habit of “spiritual bypassing,” which John Welwood, who coined the term, defined as “using spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep personal, emotional ‘unfinished business.’”

It’s the religious version of “toxic positivity.” I learned to deny unpleasant emotions and slap a “it’s God’s plan” or “everything happens for a reason” label to every situation.

But in this 2025 crisis avalanche, I said to hell with it. I still had to “let go and let God” in some respects—I had no choice but to wait with a lot of these scenarios—but I was too exhausted to dodge dark emotions or neatly spiritualize them the way my younger self had.

As explored in her book, Learning to Walk in the Dark, I had to adopt a new way of looking at darkness. She wrote: “After years of being taught that the way to deal with painful emotions is to get rid of them, it can take a lot of reschooling to learn to sit with them instead, finding out from those who feel them what they have learned by sleeping in the wilderness that those who sleep in comfortable houses may never know.”

I sat with depression. I got cozy with uncertainty. I leaned in scary close to my anger. I was uncomfortable and antsy for months on end, but I felt my feelings. I felt them all instead of immediately mining them for meaning.

When people ask why I read so many heavy books, I often admit it’s because I’ve had a relatively easy life. When it comes to other people’s stories, I’ve always viewed darkness as instructive. It was time I let my own darkness and discomfort teach me.

I spent a lot of last year in agony and suspension. I was waiting for the house to get repaired so we could list it (the year would end without that happening), waiting for call-backs about jobs, waiting for the eyelid twitch to stop, waiting for my life to restart.

I felt like Thomas Merton must have when he wrote the first line of his prayer in Thoughts in Solitude: “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.”

This story still doesn’t have a tidy ending or a big, dramatic lesson (part of me wishes it did), even though I’m writing this from the other side of that series of unfortunate events. I found another job. The house sold. We just moved to a new area, and it’s already doing wonders for my mental health. The fraudulent loans are finally being discharged.

I don’t know what the point in all of this is, but I know it’s not reaching the other side and saying, “Hooray! Look at me!” Maybe getting comfortable with “I don’t know” was the point.

One lesson I almost missed is that I wasn’t wrong for getting my hopes up. I got let down enough times to become more okay with it. I moved on because I had to, and the wait wasn’t a waste of time.

There was always a chance that none of it would work out the way I wanted. The timeline surely isn’t one I would’ve picked. But I told myself that even if everything doesn’t go the way I’ve planned it in my head (and it didn’t), it’s a story to tell. Maybe even a good one. Everything is material, but much of it is still raw material I’m doing my best to work with.

I try to edit my writing tightly, and you may notice this post isn’t that. Let’s just call it a life update letter to my pals on the internet. This is as close to one-pass writing as I get. I decided to share it with you anyway, but this remains an unfinished story.

Last year’s chapter showed me how to keep going without knowing the why or what’s next. It’s a lesson I’ve learned before, and can never set aside for long. Life twists the plot as it pleases. As the old Gospel jam goes, “I believe I’ll run on, and see what the end’s gonna be.”

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Happy New Year to you!

Despite all of the…things *gestures wildly* that were happening last year, one thing I never stopped doing was reading my little books (and big books—the first book I read in 2025 was over 800 pages long). And I could’ve read more if I wasn’t so distracted by *gestures wildly*, but I digress.

I finished the year having read 72 books, just over my reading goal of 70 books. I only mention the number so you’ll know how much these eight books stood out. The ratio feels important in this case. A top eight out of ten wouldn’t make most of them very impressive, right?

Either way, here’s the best of the best! I hope you’ll find something new to add to your TBR list and you’ll love it as much as I did.

1. Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

It’s only right for Martyr! to be first on this list. It was the first book to blow me away last year (the first 5-star!), and it was probably my favorite book of the year, if I must pick one.

Martyr! is about a young Iranian-American poet, Cyrus, and his search for meaning and belonging. His family history is full of mysteries, and after his father’s death, he grapples with his new identity as an adult orphan, flailing between addiction and sobriety, and quests for love and attention. His questions ultimately lead him on an art-filled journey to find the meaning of life and death, taking him to places he hadn’t expected and offering answers he didn’t know were possible.

I loved this book for its poetic prose (the author is a poet, after all), deep exploration of multiple themes (meaning, identity, art, addiction, love, sexuality, family), and unique narrative structure, which weaved in Cyrus’ writings and switched back and forth from scenes of Cyrus’ family in Iran decades prior and Cyrus’ present day-to-day life.

2. The Wedding People by Alison Espach

I get warm, fuzzy feelings when I think about The Wedding People, despite some of the darker elements present in this otherwise witty novel.

It’s about love, loss, and giving yourself another chance at life. The main character, Phoebe, has lost her marriage and her career ambitions. She had checked into a luxury hotel with her own plans when she was confronted by a tightly wound bride and her wedding guests. Phoebe has slipped through the cracks and, as the only person at the hotel who isn’t there for the wedding, the bride expects Phoebe to, at the very least, not ruin her wedding.

What unfolds is so much more, and I found these unexpected turns beautiful—for both Phoebe and the wedding party. This story reminded me how life’s unplanned detours can ultimately put you on the right path and why opening yourself up to strangers is a part of the joy of living.

I’d recommend reading this book at any point, but it’d be especially great for your summer reading list.

3. One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This by Omar El Akkad

This excellent book is a shining example of why you’ll likely never see a “best books of the year” list from me before the end of December. I snuck this short read in at the end of the year, and walked away amazed at how sharp and compelling it is.

The official book synopsis for One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This begins this way, providing important context:

On October 25, 2023, after just three weeks of the bombardment of Gaza, Omar El Akkad put out a tweet: “One day, when it’s safe, when there’s no personal downside to calling a thing what it is, when it’s too late to hold anyone accountable, everyone will have always been against this.”

The author provides the moral clarity we all need in this moment. Part memoir and part manifesto, he grapples with the lies the West has sold us, from “lesser evil” politicians to “freedom and justice for all,” and still manages to serve up hope and a vision for a better future. This book is incredible, and incredibly necessary.

4. How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water by Angie Cruz

I finished How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water exactly one month after I was laid off. I must’ve been subconsciously drawn to a main character who was also job searching, and I felt a sort of kindredness toward Cara Ramero.

Like Martyr!, I loved this book for its unique narrative structure. The story is told through Cara’s sessions with a job counselor, in which she overshares hilariously and attempts to navigate rising debt, neighborhood gentrification, grief, and estranged family relationships. Despite how not funny those topics are (plus unemployment), this story is full of humor and lightness and rich in wisdom. The writing is vibrant and immersive, and presents a nuanced, relatable depiction of rebuilding your life and identity after job loss.

5. Awake: A Memoir by Jen Hatmaker

I included Awake in my recent list of what I read for Nonfiction November, and as predicted, it stood out as one of the most well-written, memorable books I read last year.

I love memoirs (I read 12 in 2025), and this one was raw and sharp-witted in ways I didn’t expect. For one, I was familiar with Hatmaker’s history as a public figure in Christian spaces, but I wasn’t familiar with her writing game. The way she drew insight from some of the most painful moments of her life was masterful, and she revealed the lessons in gut-punching vignettes.

It’s a memoir primarily about her divorce—the title is inspired by hearing her husband whisper-talking to another woman while lying beside her in their bed, thinking she was asleep. The memoir isn’t wholly devoted to the divorce, though, and includes stories about her experiences and moments of enlightenment around growing up in purity culture and experiencing body shame, questioning the gender limitations she was taught in church, the way Christian media outlets treated her family, and coming into her own as someone who never expected to be divorced or find herself outside of the faith circles she once loved.

I loved this book for its candor, sharp writing, and tribute to the power of community.

6. Shark Heart: A Love Story by Emily Habeck

There’s a small chance I remember this book fondly because of how hard it had me bawling on a plane, but nevertheless, Shark Heart is a stunning portrait of loving someone who is slipping away.

I’ll borrow from my review for the rest:

Shark Heart strikes an impressive balance between beauty and bizarreness. The writing is poetic and stunning, and the premise is weird, but the author somehow conveys the intense emotions one might have if their new husband starts turning into a shark.

…Shark Heart represents a lot of what I love about literary fiction…don't just tell me that this man has a great white shark mutation condition and his wife is sad—show me how the hearts around him break a little more each time his skin changes or he grows a fin. Show me, through the kind of ridiculous assertion that a human could turn into a shark, how it feels to begin to lose someone who is technically still alive. Show me what it's like to no longer recognize yourself, lose control of your life and actions, and watch your unfulfilled dreams slip away.

…I had to "suspend my disbelief" to get the message and metaphor, but when I did, this love story felt as real as any other. It didn't make perfect sense for the world I live in, and it was still a powerful, imaginative picture of grief and loss. I didn't exactly believe it, and I didn't have to. It still made me feel it.

7. Women, Race, & Class by Angela Y. Davis

Women, Race, & Class is an incisive, powerful book that examines the history of the women’s liberation movement and how past racial inequalities continue to shape contemporary issues such as sexual violence, reproductive rights, and women's experiences in the workforce (particularly domestic work). I learned so much from this book.

This is the second time a book by Angela Y. Davis has landed on my top books of the year list (Freedom Is a Constant Struggle was on my 2023 list), and I’m continuously thankful for her voice as a scholar and political activist.

8. Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

Chain-Gang All-Stars is the book I’ve talked about more than any other in the past year. It’s easily one of the most engaging, memorable stories I read in 2025.

This book requires fiction readers (especially those in the United States) to reckon with their own reality, and that’s what I appreciated about it the most. While the story is set in a fictional world where two top female gladiators fight for their freedom in a for-profit, entertainment-based system, it’s impossible to miss the parallels between their world and ours.

It’s an action-packed story full of violence and uncomfortable moral dilemmas. Since it’s a dystopian novel, I wanted their depraved, immoral world to exist only in the land of make-believe, but it’s addressing harsh truths about the real prison system in America. This makes it a brilliant and timely book in my eyes.

As I said about it in a previous post:

[Chain-Gang All-Stars] tells an important story about what can happen when mass incarceration and unchecked capitalism meet, producing a society that’s so corrupt and morally bankrupt, it’s both hard and frighteningly easy to imagine.

Honorable Mentions

• Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century by Alice Wong

• Alligator Tears: A Memoir in Essays by Edgar Gomez

• The Message by Ta-Nehisi Coates

• The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois: A Novel by Honoree Fanonne Jeffers

Drop your favorite book(s) of 2025 in the comments—I’d love to hear what you loved reading and get some ideas for my 2026 reads. Happy reading, everyone!

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I’ve truly never been more excited for a year to end, let me tell ya. Despite how crazy 2025 was and how inconsistent I was with a lot of things this year, this monthly wrap-up post went out every single month. I committed, and I did it. It’s been fun to do a recap and now look back to see what I was doing and loving each month.

But I’m switching up the way I do these in 2026. They’ll be season-based, starting with the Winter Edit, which you can expect in March. I’m interested to see how opening up my posting schedule (by not having to accommodate these posts) influences my writing capacity.

A surprising number of you have reached out on Instagram and via text to let me know you enjoy these posts, and I appreciate that! You’ll likely still see the occasional monthly wrap-up on different themes next year, which is another way for me to challenge myself creatively.

So, here’s post 12 out of 12. We made it!

• Adithi Ramakrishnan, a reporter with the Associated Press, reached out to me for an interview and quoted me in her article about how to revive your love of books.

• Wild Aster Books, which opened in Chamblee earlier this year. I loved their moody atmosphere and friendly staff.

• Puttshack. I went to a holiday party there and couldn’t believe how much fun I had playing mini golf.

• Wearing my wedding shoes out to our anniversary dinner.

• I attempted the 75 Booked challenge (but forgot about it a week in) and two personal readathons (but got distracted halfway through the day both times). These attempts still resulted in me reading a lot more and developing good habits, so it wasn’t for nothing.

• I found the Monarch app on a whim, and we switched to it for finances. I love the interface and re-categorizing expenses has been so satisfying.

• Arencia Fresh Green Rice Mochi Cleanser, which is doing great things for my skin.

This isn’t nearly everywhere or everything I ate, but the ones worth sharing:

• The Brown Butter Supper Club’s gingered velvet menu was amazing.

• Dan Pelosi’s chicken stew. Kroger pickup sabotaged me on multiple ingredients and it still turned out tasty. (Gift recipe link—expires in 30 days)

• Fresh sushi and other great dishes at UMI for our anniversary dinner.

• Necessary Purveyor’s Rocko’s Cutlet sandwich, an incredible chicken ceasar situation that blew me away for lunch.

• Smiley’s Burger Club. Their smash burger lived up to the hype I’d built in my head.

• Pho Hoang Long, which served up pho just as good (if not better) than any pho I’ve had on Buford Highway. (I said what I said!)

I’m not done reading for the month/year, but here are some of the best ones thus far:

• Neighbors and Other Stories by Diane Oliver: I really enjoyed this strong short story collection that portrays scenes of Black life in 1950s and 60s America.

• Disability Visibility: First-Person Stories from the Twenty-First Century by Alice Wong: After Alice Wong’s death in November, this book came back on my radar and ended up being one of my most impactful reads of the year. It’s an excellent collection of contemporary essays by disabled writers, sharing their experiences being misrepresented, underrepresented, and unconsidered in society, as well as their joys and hopes for disability justice in the future.

• Shadow Tag by Louise Erdrich: My first novel by Erdrich, despite collecting a bunch of her books over the years. In this one, a couple begins communicating via mind games after the wife discovers her husband has been reading her journal. It’s a moving story about identity, the complexity of love and family, and the destruction of alcoholism.

• One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This by Omar El Akkad: I knew this book was going to be a sharp indictment of the West’s inaction and complicity when it comes to genocide against Gaza, but it was even more incisive and powerful than I imagined.

• Page Break’s interviews with booksellers across the US.

• Sketchy Food Reviews. I never skip a video.

• Oprah’s special about estranged parents and going no contact. I’m not estranged from my parents, but this is an interesting topic to me, and I’ve spent a lot of time learning about it this year.

MUSIC

• Lucy Dacus’ Forever Is A Feeling indie-folk-pop album. I was surprised “Best Guess” wasn’t in my top five songs of the year.

• “Jammin” by RUBII, a soft hip-hop-ish bop I randomly discovered.

• Del Water Gap’s indie/alternative album, Chasing the Chimera.

• Soul Coffee, Alternative Frequency, and dark academic winter vibes playlists.

PODCASTS

• Diabolical Lies’ podcast episode on why we should try not to go to Starbucks this holiday season, breaking down the sustained labor strike and combined consumer and labor boycott.

• A Cup of Jo’s podcast episode, “That Time I Went to France,” where my IRL friend shares about her decision to pack up her life in Atlanta and move to the South of France, and what she learned in the process.

• Saved by the City’s podcast episode “God, Glam, and the Good Wife: The Rise of the Womanosphere,” where they explore womanhood in our current cultural moment and the rise of “tradwife” voices.

This weighted sloth, which I told my husband is “medically necessary” / RIP, K&W Cafeteria, a North Carolina legend / The triple flat ear piercing I’ve wanted for at least three years / Should I try pilates? / MUNA finished their album!!! / Getting more strict about not buying unnatural fibers / RIP, Parade, my favorite undies brand / How good Trader Joe’s cornbread crisps are / “What’s the best that could happen?”

As the middle of November was quickly approaching, I decided that I wanted to read nonfiction books for the rest of the month. It was “Nonfiction November” after all, and I’d been reading more fiction than usual.

I typically read slightly more nonfiction than fiction, except in 2019 when my reading was perfectly split. I mean, just look at this beautifully even chart!

So satisfying.

Anyway, here are the books I was able to get through once I locked in on Nonfiction November (in the order that I read them in) and my thoughts on each one:

1. AI Futures by Evgeny Morozov

It’s probably no secret that I’m not the biggest fan of AI, but I’m reasonable and realistic enough to acknowledge that we’re going to have to find a way to coexist with it without allowing it to destroy the planet or erode human creativity and intellect.

Evgeny Morozov’s book, AI Futures, challenges the false choice between accepting Silicon Valley’s vision of AI and rejecting it entirely. Morozov argues for a third way that’s rooted in a more humane technological tradition that existed before corporate dominance.

In his argument, he asserts that building political power is what’s needed to reclaim control of AI from Big Tech and create a future that serves everyone. The book includes contributions from writers who respond to his argument from different angles, including exploring the application of AI in the military, the political theory of algorithms, and copyright issues.

I picked this book up during Haymarket Books’ eBook sale (and it’s still on sale). I wanted to read a book on AI written by people who have thought deeply on the topic and still hold a healthy level of skepticism. This book was that, but wasn’t as straightforward on solutions as I hoped it would be.

I appreciated how many “AI and” intersections the book covered, but this strength also became a weakness in some pieces that I felt were too in the weeds on a topic and didn’t cover the AI connection sharply enough. I still learned a lot, though, and the essay about copyright after ChatGPT was the most memorable for me.

2. Awake: A Memoir by Jen Hatmaker

Reading Jen Hatmaker’s new memoir, Awake, felt like a full-circle moment of sorts. I remember when she and her now ex-husband were everywhere on the Christian media circuit, and a few years after she first rose to fame, she was someone I would have refused to read and written off as a heretic.

But when I read her memoir last month, I saw myself in the parts of her story where she talked about outgrowing the faith spaces you once knew and the scandal of changing your mind.

The memoir’s primary focus, however, was the dissolution of her 26-year marriage. The opening scene is her waking up at 2:30 AM and hearing her husband whisper-talking to another woman while lying beside her in their bed (this is not a spoiler—it’s in the official book synopsis). That moment blew up her life and the lives of their five kids. This memoir is a candid picture of her life immediately after that moment, during other landmark life events, during the divorce process, and in the first few years after the divorce.

Some of the most profoundly affecting parts for me were about how the media handled her expression of support for LGBTQ couples in 2016 and breaking the news about her 2020 divorce before her family was ready to share it. I remember both of these moments and never knew how much turmoil her family went through behind the scenes.

It was also gut-wrenching to read about all it takes to untangle a life that has been two people’s lives intertwined for almost thirty years. But as challenging as it was to read at times, I loved this book and the way she told her story through honest, beautifully written, and often funny vignettes. It’s a brilliant way to do a memoir, using her story as a tribute to mental health treatment, the power of community, exiting harmful religious systems, and healing after unexpected crises.

Awake is the only book on this list that I rated five stars, and you’ll see it again in my top books of the year post.

3. Invisible ADHD: Proven Mood and Life Management for Smart Yet Scattered Women by Shanna Pearson

I could probably write my own book about how women’s challenges with ADHD are so often missed and misdiagnosed (it would be a memoir). But if you want an ADHD coach’s insights, Invisible ADHD is a great breakdown that helps readers understand why their ADHD symptoms occur and how to make life easier.

It seems like every day—with every podcast I listen to or book I read about ADHD—I discover that some of my thought patterns and behaviors may be tied to ADHD. Invisible ADHD continued that trend, with eye-opening revelations about ADHD’s impact on hormones, mood, and the feelings of severe overwhelm that I know so intimately.

It could be a little corny and self-promotional, but Invisible ADHD is full of helpful strategies for communicating effectively, managing moods, optimizing memory, following through, and more. I got a lot out of reading it. It’s definitely geared toward women, but many of the tips would apply to anyone with ADHD.

4. That’s How They Get You: An Unruly Anthology of Black American Humor by Damon Young

At this point in the month, I was beginning to tire of nonfiction, so I decided to try some humor essays. I haven’t read much humor (outside of R. Eric Thomas’ two essay collections, which I loved), so I was excited for this one.

“Unruly” was a good way to describe this collection. It’s unapologetically Black and all over the place. I never knew what I’d get from one page to the next, and that was fun. The humor in That’s How They Get You is so magnificently Black culture-specific that it almost makes me uncomfortable that it’s available for public consumption, but I suppose that’s the beauty of it. In this compilation of essays, short stories, letters, and rants, a talented group of writers makes light of their good and bad experiences in the best way.

I didn’t love this anthology as much as I expected to, but I definitely enjoyed it. I’ve been reading Damon Young’s work since he was writing the Very Smart Brothas blog in 2008, and I’m ashamed that his book, What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker, has been collecting dust on my shelf for years. I’m positive that I would like that book more than That’s How They Get You, so I’ll let you know what I think when I finally read it.

*This review is based on an advance copy provided by the publisher.

5. Felon: Poems by Reginald Dwayne Betts

On a random day many years ago, I randomly thought, “I want to read some poetry by Black men.” That impulse led me to pick up Felon that day (along with The Tradition by Jericho Brown), and I finally read it last month to end Nonfiction November.

Betts showed himself to be a master poet with this collection. Felon is an inventive and impressive body of work that surprised me with its range across both subject and format.

The poems in Felon share a confronting truth about the prison system. Betts uses these poems to tell the story of a life shaped by incarceration, especially how it can bleed into every part of a person’s identity and existence. Through poems that capture his experiences with homelessness, relationships, love, grace, and fatherhood, he exposes the afterlife of prison and all the ways it can follow you home.

My favorite thing about this collection was the skillful way it moves between traditional forms and others, including redacted/blackout poems created from court documents. These poems were incredibly moving, bold, and creative.

That’s it! If you read anything good during Nonfiction November or just have a nonfiction book recommendation for me, let me know in the comments.

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Well, hello! I hope you’ve been having a cozy time as fall winds down. I haven’t had nearly enough pie, but hope to remedy that soon.

I love November because the Christmas lights start popping up everywhere, and that brings me instant joy. I’m still in survival mode, though, as evidenced by these facts:

1. I haven’t published anything since my last monthly wrap-up post.

2. This here post is being published on a Sunday.

3. I’m writing most of this on December 6th, and my Christmas tree still isn’t up. (If you don’t know, I’m usually a November 1st person.)

Anyway, thank you for being here! And here are my favorites from last month.

• The plaid nail set I had for most of the month. I was suddenly bitten by the nail art bug again, after probably a year of solid colors.

• A new Switchyards co-working space opened in Toco Hills. I loved working from this location because there are so many food options in the same shopping center.

• Adding IRL friends on Finch. Yay for self-care accountability and motivation!

• Thrifting success! I made out like a bandit at a few of my favorite Goodwills. I also enjoyed shopping at and donating to Lost-N-Found Youth Thrift Store (and feeling a bit better supporting their nonprofit, knowing donations are less likely to end up in a landfill).

• Got another fun little bookmark—this time sour gummies!—for the dopamine.

• Sézane opened up shop in Atlanta, and I was over the moon about it.

• Everlane’s ‘The Everywhere Pant.’ I bought these for work a few months back, and they’re in constant rotation. The fit and quality are great. I have them in Toffee.

• Attempting to get into playing Nintendo Switch games. (Would you believe my therapist suggested games to help get me out of my rumination cycles?) If you have recommendations, I like cozy games (but not necessarily life simulation ones like Animal Crossing) where I’m building something or completing tasks. And fighting games.

• Jocón (chicken and tomatillo stew) at home, which I really enjoyed but definitely shouldn’t have made on a weeknight. (Gift recipe link - good for 30 days)

• The Decatur Wine Festival was an incredibly good time. I can’t wait for next year.

• Bully Boy. Their grilled octopus unseated my former favorite grilled octopus in the Atlanta area (at Casi Cielo).

• The curry duck noodles at Hawkers. The dish was unfortunately Beltline-sized and priced (I’ve only been to the Beltline location), but the flavors were delicious and memorable.

• Dubai chocolate granola butter. It’s the only Dubai chocolate anything I’ve had, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. But it’s a fun snack, and I’m obsessed with the crunch in it.

• Woodworking by Emily St. James: This book was one of my most anticipated 2025 releases. The story has a lot to say about the expansiveness of identity and the roles we perform in life. It’s about a trans high school teacher living in a small town in South Dakota who, feeling awkward and precarious, reaches out to Abigail, one of her English students and the only other trans person she knows. I didn’t love it as much as I expected to because it was too long and the plot dragged in places, but it’s a heartwarming and ultimately impressive debut.

The other five books I read were for Nonfiction November, so I’ll save my thoughts for my next post about them. In the meantime, check out this post from last year:

• Lots of Balu Brigada, in preparation to see them live at Terminal West (they were as incredible live as I hoped).

• I was obsessed with “The Dress” by Dijon and Olivia Dean’s cover of it.

• Random throwback tracks, especially “So Good” by Destiny’s Child, and “Love Shoulda Brought You Home” and “He Wasn’t Man Enough” by Toni Braxton.

• “Folded” by Kehlani was on repeat. She’s making music that sounds like the R&B I grew up with, and I love it.

• This dark academic LoFi playlist got me through many hours of writing for work.

• The Maintenance Phase podcast’s episode on raw milk: the history behind its consumption and bans, and how we got where we are today.

• Hey, what’s going on with books?: A super detailed reflection on the state of the publishing industry, from what’s going on with the fantasy genre and bookstores to the commoditization of books as physical objects.

• The Christian Bookstore Rejects: Sarah Bessey’s thoughts on being a devout Christian author who writes books geared for Christians and yet is almost never stocked in Christian bookstores.

• The Doom Spenders: An insightful longform piece that is a “portrait of a generation on the instalment plan.” It focuses on the financial habits and mindsets of Gen Z Canadians, but I’d say everything applies to folks in the US, too.

• a guide to emotional hygiene for overthinkers: Exactly what it sounds like—an affirming (and corrective) guide for those of us who are prone to overthinking.

The butter turkey I saw on someone’s Thanksgiving IG story / The olives graphic tee I should’ve bought from Nuuly / New York really did that—there is hope for us yet / The concept of random themed gatherings for very small groups / The Anthro skirt I was waiting to go on sale, which did and immediately sold out / Kayla Nicole’s Halloween costume / I can’t wait to host again / My mom’s sweet potato pie, which I’ll be reunited with soon

October is such a fun month. It brings me joy to see people get creative with their costumes, especially the clever, punny, and DIY ones (despite buying mine straight from Spirit Halloween this year).

Between the fun, I’ve been trying to strike a balance between writing for work and writing for myself, and I’m getting into a better rhythm. I’m also trying to keep my mental health together despite one particular life project (that will hopefully free me by the end of the year) threatening to take it further off the rails. More on that later. Sigh.

But here are the highlights—what I did, ate, read, loved, listened to, and thought too much about in October!

• Going to the Decatur Book Festival, as I have every year since moving to Atlanta in 2018. It’s always lovely to be surrounded by book people.

• Finding fun new grocery items at Trader Joe’s and ALDI that I saw on the Trader Joe’s Talia and ALDI All the Time accounts.

• This “citron green” sweater I can’t stop wearing every week (okay, twice in a week once…).

• Tailoring! I finally found a good tailor via personal recommendation. I’d forgotten how much of a difference it makes.

• The Focus Friend app, a tool that helps me put my phone aside more often (while an adorable little bean knits something!).

• The Dr. Martens Zeb Zag mules that finally came out in a bright enough color for me. They were comfortable right out of the box, and I wear them all the time.

• My local library! I’ve been neglecting my personal library to borrow new releases, but at least it’s free.

• The charm necklace I made at It’s Especially Lucky for a friend’s birthday. It adds a touch more whimsy to outfits.

• Ruby’s Sourdough Pizza impressed me. It’s like I’m on a pizza tasting tour or something.

• The Modern Proper’s Green Chicken Chili Soup at home. (I’d cut the chicken smaller than the recipe instructs or shred it next time.)

• My first muffuletta sandwich at Motorboat. Yum.

• Lots of ramen, but I especially loved Ginya Izakaya (as always) and Hikaru, a new-to-me spot.

My favorites were…

• These Heathens by Mia McKenzie: A novel set in the 1960s about a teenager from a small town in Georgia who travels to Atlanta to get an abortion. She finds herself scandalized at meeting atheists, passionate civil rights leaders, women who love women, and other people she has been taught were evil. I didn’t think this book was perfectly executed, but I really liked it for its honest and realistic portrayal of a small-town girl's perspective and the vibrant settings.

• Finlay Donovan Is Killing It by Elle Cosimano: Even though I missed the book club I read this for, I’m still thankful for it because I really enjoyed this book and probably wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise. It’s a mystery about a single mom and struggling novelist who gets caught up in a real-life murder investigation. It was chaotic and entertaining.

• Queer & Christian by Brandan Robertson: I technically read this one at the tail end of September and forgot to include it last month. It’s easily one of the best books I’ve read on the topic, and I’ve read many. I don’t, however, recommend that it be anyone’s first book on the topic. *Disclaimer: I read an advance copy gifted to me by the publisher for review purposes.

• Women, Race, & Class Angela Y. Davis: Does this legendary scholar ever miss? I’ve loved everything I’ve ever read by her. This one is a powerful deep dive into the history of the women’s liberation movement, covering racism and elitism in feminist movements, contemporary issues, and more. I learned so much. My only 5-star read in October.

• Hannah Jadagu’s new indie/dream pop EP, Normal Today.

• Amber Mark’s new R&B/soul album, Pretty Idea.

• Hayley Williams’ alt-pop album, Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party (released in August).

• “Dracula” by Tame Impala, a great song in general, but especially great for October vibes.

• “What A God” by SEU Worship. I leave most contemporary Christian music alone these days (hymn me, please), but this song has been on repeat.

• The “How to Plan Unstructured Time” episode of the From Stuck to Started podcast was full of helpful gems because I’m out here raw dogging ADHD at the moment.

• The Bible for Normal People podcast’s episode “The Faith of Gen Z” with Dr. Angela Patterson.

• These autumn vintage jazz and Fujiyama Beats playlists for instrumentals while working, and this Neo Soul Oasis playlist to catch a vibe and also mourn D’Angelo.

• I gave up “the sick girl” identity and found acceptance: A beautiful reflection on navigating faith and identity while struggling with an invisible chronic illness. I described it as “raw, insightful, and layered” right after reading it. (Disclaimer: I know the author IRL!)

• No Good Art Comes From Greed: An excellent critique of Taylor Swift’s latest album and recent business practices written by a (former?) fan.

• Here’s Why Poor People Keep Voting Against Their Own Self-Interest: A plain, honest explanation for liberals who don’t get it.

• Let them be wrong about you: A frank, encouraging piece on not letting other people’s perceptions and expectations define you (that almost made me shed a tear).

The disco skeleton I definitely need, even though I’ve never decorated for Halloween in my life / The concept of subway surfing and the two kids who recently died doing it / The recent wave of progressive political wins / Low dopamine menus / Chanel’s Spring 2026 RTW collection / This sour gummies bookmark / The secondhand embarassment I felt listening to TS’s TLOASG album and still can’t shake / Large polka dot patterns / This adorable little bat shirt I should’ve gotten for October but didn’t

By Kate Baer. Via @poetryisnotaluxury.

Self-help is a multi-billion-dollar industry because millions of vulnerable, desperate people worldwide simply want to feel better.

Can we blame them? They’ve been raised on inferiority and shame in a culture that overvalues productivity and material wealth, and told that all of their problems are their own fault. In walks a book with an aggressive title, promising to change their life for the low price of a $28 hardcover.

After the book is purchased and read, the reader often gets a temporary high from its oversimplistic, blind affirmations. Just reading the book was another form of avoidance. It made them feel better temporarily, even if they went on to make zero life changes in the future.

That’s because many self-help books are full of fluff that produces good feelings that are encouraging in the moment, but are ultimately fleeting. At best, these books are distracting placebos with messages that oversimplify life’s problems. At worst, they’re complete nonsense written by an unqualified person who will gaslight you for 250 pages or more. As David Letterman said in a sketch for The Late Show: “And now Dr. Phil’s latest book, Here’s Some More Advice I Pulled Out of My Ass.”

There’s a lot more I could say about the self-help book genre and industry as a whole, but I’m here to recommend books, and I’ve found that not all books categorized as “self-help” fit the stereotype of fluff-filled garbage.

I’ve been the person desperately seeking answers and a quick life fix, so I’ve been burned by plenty of these books. But a few stuck with me and proved to defy the negative associations of their “self-help” label. Here they are, plus why I thought they were different:

1. Atomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones

Because I’m not afraid of any of you, I’m going to start with one of the most popular, beloved, and widely criticized books in the genre. I read Atomic Habits in 2020, and from what I remember, it was self-help that was actually helpful because it’s practical.

The author doesn’t spend time beating up the reader for being “lazy” or selling productivity snake oil, but instead focuses on the value of small, incremental efforts in habit formation. The book doesn’t drag on for much longer than it needs to. It recommends simple ways to stack positive habits using methods that apply broadly—not because they’re shallow, but because what it takes to build a habit doesn’t vary extensively from one person to the next (except for cases of neurodivergence and such, which come up later in this list).

2. The Good Enough Job: Reclaiming Life from Work

As someone who writes for a living and for fun, and who has worked in industries like nonprofit and ministry where your identity is closely tied to your job, The Good Enough Job invited me to reframe how I view work.

The advice in this book isn’t based on vibes, but on reporting and interviews with people who have learned the “I am not my job” lessons and walked the walk.

3. Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating

Diet culture is sneaky, despite how ineffective dieting has proven to be for most people. Anti-Diet explores the history of diet culture and how it often masquerades as “wellness” and fitness.

The author—a registered dietician!—draws on scientific research and her experiences with patients to explain how people can improve their health without obsessing over diets and weight.

4. Are You Mad at Me?: How to Stop Focusing on What Others Think and Start Living for You

Are You Mad at Me? is my most recent “self-help” read and the book that inspired this post. A psychotherapist wrote it, and it breaks down the meaning of “fawning,” a survival mechanism that can manifest as chronic people pleasing.

It’s full of exercises and client stories that demonstrate how responses like people-pleasing, over-explaining, and over-apologizing develop and can be overcome.

5. Fighting for Our Friendships: The Science and Art of Conflict and Connection in Women’s Relationships

I’ve probably sung this book’s praises enough on this blog, but Fighting for Our Friendships is another self-help book that gets a pass from me on the basis of being practical and fluff-free.

There’s science, psychology, exercises, and perhaps most importantly, real-life solutions for relatable friendship conflicts.

6. How to Keep House While Drowning: A Gentle Approach to Cleaning and Organizing

Written by a therapist (and overall very smart person with good takes that I recommend following on social media), How to Keep House While Drowning is a guide and a lifeline for people who have been taught to associate their ability to keep a perfect cleaning schedule with their worth as a person.

I read it shortly after I was diagnosed with ADHD, and it was a short and sharp companion in my journey to more self-compassion. It includes creative solutions and gracious modifications for days when rhythms are off and attention spans are extra short.

7. The Baby Decision: How to Make the Most Important Decision of Your Life

This part of the list is pretty niche, which is how these last three books got their place at the end. The Baby Decision’s author is a psychotherapist who has helped people make the life-changing choice of whether or not to have children for over thirty years.

It’s in-depth and represents the best of what self-help can be (but too often isn’t): a guide to uncovering self-knowledge through exercises designed by a qualified, competent professional (similar to how therapy works, but more of a first step).

8. How to ADHD: An Insider’s Guide to Working with Your Brain (Not Against It)

You didn’t think I could leave this one out, did you? How to ADHD is another book that won’t apply to everyone, but those who can use it will likely agree that it’s a shining example of “self-help.”

It leaves no stone unturned when it comes to ADHD-specific challenges, strategies, and solutions, including how to manage time, how to sleep, and how to get better at emotional regulation. I’ll defend this one until the end!

I know it seems crazy to go in on the self-help industry and then recommend eight self-help books, but each has truly helped me in some way. I hope they’ll help you, too, should you decide to read them.

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When I board a plane and then watch it slide through the clouds as it takes me somewhere else, I’m always in the exciting state of being between two places. But when I went to Panama in August, I was in between more than land and sky.

I was in month four of unemployment, waiting for a man to call me back. Never had I ever, even in my dating days, waited so anxiously for a man to call me back.

I was unencumbered and unscheduled, so it was a good time to take a trip. I was on the cusp of a substantial life change, so it was a strange time to take a trip. But the trip was booked long before the job was lost, and I still had a wild and precious life to live. I had a birthday girl (age neutral) to celebrate.

And celebrate we would, after I pushed thoughts of a job offer to the back of my mind, shoved my phone into the bottom of my bag, and found comfort in distracting myself with the details around me.

I tried to live in the moments as they unfolded on night one: Playing the hook and ring game for the first time in a crowded bar filled with millennial tourists and our guides, singing the R&B songs of our youth at the top of our lungs.

I pushed away the nagging feeling that I should be applying for more jobs and turned my focus to a new mission: making sure the birthday girl heard her favorite 2010s club banger. In my “good feelings” memory repository, I added: Skipping carefree through the unfamiliar cobblestone streets. The screams we and the other tourists from Atlanta let out when the song came on. The confetti on the floor after we’d finally heard it.

In Panama, I found myself in a liminal space, suspended between my unstructured job-searching days and my eventual return to work and routine. The vibrant streets of Panama City, with their striking neoclassical architecture and colorful arched doors, conspired to make me forget the phone call I was waiting for. It felt insignificant (at least for the time being) as I walked through a centuries-old plaza.

On day three, we boarded a small cruise ship for a tour of the legendary Panama Canal. As I climbed back and forth from one deck to the other, I tested the limits of my motion sickness patches. Three hours in, as their miraculous effects started to wear off a little, I googled, “motion sickness cruise remedies.” A few people said to pick a place to stand and then just stare at the horizon.

And so I stared—at the back of the guy in the green hat’s head, at the knot in the big mooring ball rope on the ship, at the wide expanse of waterway and the gigantic ships passing through ahead of ours.

There was a small black dot out in the distance. I gazed directly at it, trying not to be sick, and it helped a little. The dot got smaller and smaller as our ship moved onward. That’s how the phone call was beginning to feel, too.

I started putting my phone away more often, especially at restaurants. It felt cheesy, glancing around to see what I could notice. I was taking in the tiniest details of my environment and taking note of every flavor in every dish, banking these memories as if I’d never be this free again.

No matter what happened with the phone call, something would change when I returned home. But I tried to choose delight instead, noticing how much the chefs in Panama loved edible flowers on everything and tiger nuts in everything.

Between bites of slow-simmered beef in caramel sauce and curry, and fresh fish that was clearly cooked over an open flame, I took my time at dinner. I dipped into every bottle of hot sauce on the table, using one made with their native aji chombo peppers to top a tender oxtail stew.

I spotted a couple sitting knees-to-knees (and almost nose-to-nose) at the corner of a table, sharing a bottle of wine. The woman poured the rest of her wine in the man’s glass, reminding me of my husband back home who will finish the food I can’t at restaurants. My “cleanup crew,” as I call him.

Not to be dramatic, but paying attention felt like a radical act. I knew I would one day sell my time and talents to power a capitalist society again, but today was not that day. So I forced myself to pause and appreciate the ambiguous territory I was living in and push away the anxious thoughts forming in the corner of my mind: When will this man call me about this job? How much of my identity and day-to-day life is about to change? Will this be my last glimpse of travel for a while?

On the last day of the trip, the phone call came. Sort of. Ten minutes before our bright green classic convertible was scheduled to arrive for one final tour, I saw an email from the man I expected to call me. It was a “no.” I didn’t get the job. I felt the blow of rejection for about twenty minutes, and every minute after, I mostly felt relief.

I would get a “yes” two weeks later. A better one, the type of “yes” I hadn’t known I needed when I was fixated on the other HR man calling to put me out of my job search misery.

But for my last day in Panama, I needed to notice every color in every corner, the contrast of a doorway painted bright canary yellow and deep emerald green. I needed to see one more smile from Wilson, the bellhop with the brightest energy morning, noon, and night.

I needed to hear the older Black man on the street shout “Black don’t crack!” to my friend and me as we rode around the historic quarter one last time in that ridiculous green tourist car. I needed that moment of us throwing back our heads and laughing.

I knew it was a privilege that I was able to take the trip at all. One person’s temporary problems, like the ones I brought with me, are trivial in the global scheme of things and even in the full story of my life.

I’m not invalidating the anxiety I felt, but putting it into perspective. As I learned more about Panama’s tragic history, I also saw the other side of the coin: the country’s beautiful indigenous roots and rich cultural heritage that formed despite the horrors its people experienced. The immense losses and inequality they’ve faced are an important part of their story, but it’s still only one part.

I didn’t know what life would look like when I crossed back over into my home country, my real life. This may be my last trip for a while. My “work from anywhere” days may be over. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe I’ll only go where PTO can take me—I’ll be forced to pay attention.

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I feel like I say this every month, but September was a whirlwind! I started a new job and adjusting to being a hybrid corporate girlie now has been…an adjustment.

Everything was down except my step count. My mental energy, my physical energy, my reading…all down. I’ve had plenty going on outside of that, too, but I’m getting the hang of it and still had my fun (see below!).

I haven’t had time to finish any essays, but I have more writing coming soon. That’s good news if you’re here for that and not this. I still have plenty of thoughts and opinions, don’t you worry.

Do let me know if you like these posts, though—I’m thinking about changing the way I do these wrapups in 2026, even though they’re fun for me. Anyway…

• Using Beli to track restaurants I’ve been to and want to visit—so fun! I’m apparently more active than 98% of Atlanta diners on the app. Oops.

• Now that I know how to use lip stains properly, this Fenty one has been the perfect amount of lip color for me.

• Instapaper filled the Pocket-sized hole in my heart (RIP), and I now have a place to save and read articles again.

• I own an insane number of mule/clog-style shoes. These half socks, which I bought years ago and admit look ridiculous, have come in clutch to prevent friction/sweaty feet now that I’m wearing all my mules a lot more (thanks to work).

• My cozy, colorful Hommey robe (also affectionately known as my “congrats on your new job robe”).

• I painted my nails in DND’s Blossom Pink, the perfect Barbie pink. It was bright and cute, and I’ve never gotten so many compliments on a nail color.

• This “rolling bones” graphic tee has been perfect for the start of fall while still allowing me to wear a vibrant color (it matches the aforementioned nail color, too).

• Made many anchovy recipes at home: arugula salad with anchovy dressing (a longest-reigning household fave), one-pot smoky fish with tomato, olives, and couscous, and garlicky chicken with lemon-anchovy sauce.

• In the latest “trying to be better at sleeping” news, the Aplos chili margarita mocktail with adaptogens has been a huge help and a nice wind-down drink.

• The fun to snack on (but kind of insanely expensive) Magic Spoon protein treats.

• Botiwalla Indian Street Grill makes a delicious lunch. It’s a new-ish restaurant from the folks behind Chai Pani, one of my favorites in the Atlanta area.

• Necessary Purveyor. Their focaccia sandwiches have me in a chokehold.

• So So Fed, finally, after at least three people told me I needed to eat there. It lived up to every ounce of hype.

I finished five books in September, and these are the three I want to tell you about:

• The Wedding People: A Novel: Swoon. I detailed why I loved it in this recent post about my favorite books of the summer.

• Are You Mad at Me?: How to Stop Focusing on What Others Think and Start Living for You: I liked and needed this more than I expected. It’s written by an actual psychotherapist, and I’m putting it in my “self-help that doesn’t suck” category (I might write a post about that soon).

• On Women: Essay collections written by brilliant people are always inspiring to me, and this one was no exception. I expected to be wowed by the essays about facism—and I wasn’t—but the ones about aging and beauty stood out most.

• The Last Black Man in San Francisco (2019): This might’ve been my first A24 movie. It’s about gentrification, friendship, and the meaning of home. It doesn’t tackle any of these things perfectly, but I loved it all the same.

• One Night in Idaho: The College Murders (2025): The case still stumps me and it’s so incredibly sad. This was a well made documentary, though.

• Shiny Happy People: A Teenage Holy War (2025): Maybe one day I’ll get tired of watching religious trauma documentaries. But not yet. This one was wild.

• The video of civil rights icon Cecil Williams walking at NY Fashion Week. I’ve watched it so many times and it makes my heart smile. 🥺

• Olivia Dean’s soulful new album, The Art of Loving was my favorite release of the month. Excellence from start to finish!

• Khatumu’s new album, free therapy. I fell in love with her indie folk music after discovering “hunting days,” and I’m so happy she has more music out now.

• I’ve really enjoyed Lola Young’s new album, I’m Only F**king Myself (especially “d£aler”!).

• For my instrumentals while working, these lofi autumn beats, autumn vintage jazz, and chillhop playlists.

By Assata Shakur.

I always get some of my best reading done in the summer. I spend a good amount of time seaside and poolside, and I can sit there with a book for hours.

And much like my list of books that capture very specific feelings, I often want to read something that feels like it should be read in the summer (despite not being a typical “beach read” person). The first book on this list is the perfect example of what I mean.

Without further ado…here are my top five.

1. The Wedding People by Alison Espach

The Wedding People is the most recent book I’ve finished, about a week before summer officially ended today. It’s also the most recent book that got my “cried” tag. I was determined to finish it while it was technically summer, and I’m so glad I did because it didn’t disappoint. In fact, it’s one of the very few books I’ve rated five stars this year.

The story begins with a woman named Phoebe, whose life and marriage have fallen apart. On a whim, she checks into a luxury hotel with her own plans, but when it turns out she’s the only guest not attending a wedding, her week takes an unexpected turn.

This story perfectly illustrates how life’s unplanned detours and a few encounters with random people can change everything.

2. How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water by Angie Cruz

Even if I hadn’t been in the same job search boat as the main character, Cara Romero, this summer, I’m sure I still would’ve loved How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water and its endearing heroine.

The book has a unique structure, where Cara, a mid-50s woman returning to the job market for the first time in decades, shares her story over the course of twelve sessions with a job counselor. As she tries to figure out what type of job she can try next, she navigates rising debt, neighborhood gentrification, loss, and family relationships, including the pain of not knowing what happened with her estranged son.

It’s short but still manages to be funny, insightful, and incredibly moving.

3. Chain Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

When I mentioned Chain Gang All-Stars in a previous post, I said it was excellent but hard to recommend. I stand by that, but it’s ultimately a really great book. It’s a dystopian novel that brilliantly addresses some harsh truths about America’s prison system—if you can stomach it.

In it, two top women gladiators fight for their freedom for the public’s entertainment. The world they live in is so depraved, so immoral, that it naturally progresses to a devastating situation with impossible moral choices and lethal consequences.

This story is action-packed and hard to look away from (unless you need a break from the violence, like I did). It tells an important story about what can happen when mass incarceration and unchecked capitalism meet, producing a society that’s so corrupt and morally bankrupt, it’s both hard and frighteningly easy to imagine.

4. The Girls Who Grew Big by Leila Mottley

The Girls Who Grew Big is another example of the ideal summer book for me. It’s set in Padua Beach, Florida, and felt just “summery” enough. And while it’s not light, it’s full of heart in the way books about female friendship typically are.

The story follows a group of teenage mothers who, together, face judgment from their small town neighbors, questions about who they can become, and the chaos that can unfold in the search for love.

“The girls” had each other’s backs, and there was something I loved about their realistic, untidy, nonlinear relationships and paths. It’s a brutally—and beautifully—raw representation of the ups and downs of friendship, girlhood, womanhood, and motherhood.

5. Alligator Tears by Edgar Gomez

Reading books set in Florida must’ve been my summer vibe, because Alligator Tears was another standout. I’ve read mostly nonfiction so far this year, but it’s the only nonfiction book that made this list.

This memoir in essays offered humor, sharp writing, and gritty, thrilling tales of survival and self-discovery. It’s a really strong collection that details the author’s coming-of-age journey, from queerness and love to making ends meet by any means necessary. It was a joy to read along as the author accomplished his dreams, and I didn’t want it to end.

That’s a wrap on summer reading! I had a good time, but I’m really excited for fall. I have a loose, unrealistic TBR full of Hunger Games books (finally), thrillers (because I usually do a spooky October), sci-fi, poetry collections, and cozy literary fiction.

I’d love to hear about the best book(s) you read this summer and/or what you’re planning to read during the fall.

Disclosure: I’m an affiliate of Bookshop.org and will earn a small commission if you click through and make a purchase of any of the books linked in this post.

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I left for Panama on August 1, kicking off a month of adventure. August is always fun. There’s my BFF’s birthday (which we were in Panama for) and a lot of end-of-summer goodness.

But this August was a time of extreme ups and downs. There was good news and bad news. I connected with many amazing people, old friends and new ones. I had job interviews and, finally, a job offer. I made progress on some important goals, but I also realized how many others remain stalled.

I also finished an essay on friendship that I’d been working on for a long time. Publishing it last week felt like a feat, which is why I so appreciate all the lovely feedback! Most has come through texts and Instagram DMs, but I’d also welcome a “like” (heart icon) and/or adding a comment, which helps increase its visibility so more people can discover it.

Here’s what else I was up to in August!

• Thrifting. A lot. I’ve always loved it, but recent finds reminded me how good it can get.

• My new hot sauce bookmark, which sparks joy and proves that using a proper bookmark instead of a random piece of paper can be nice sometimes.

• Walking as much as possible. Again, not new for me, but getting outside for a long walk was somewhat of a lifeline in August.

• Steam eye masks. A friend put me on, and they’ve helped me, a bad-at-sleep person with an overactive mind, relax and ease into sleep like nothing else has.

• The surprisingly helpful Finch self-care app.

• The Cantu satin-lined shower cap I randomly picked up at Nordstrom Rack. It actually fits all of my hair without a struggle!

• Virginia Highland. Yes, the entire neighborhood. It’s one of my favorites in Atlanta, and I met friends there multiple times in August. If I had millions of dollars, I’d buy a house there.

• COACH Brynn sandals. I bought them on sale at the end of summer last year and was afraid I wouldn’t wear them enough because of the color, but they came in clutch during my trip to Panama and were just as comfortable as my best sneakers.

• A friend got me the Baggu small crescent Madras bag for my birthday (in May) and fought Urban Outfitters’ backorder shenanigans for months to get it. She gave it to me in August, and I’ve been wearing it a ton because it magically goes with almost everything I own.

• Greek yogurt topped with coconut cashew no-sugar-added granola, blueberries, and granola butter for breakfast.

• Japanese curry because my household is still obsessed. I tried another chicken recipe and a hamburger steak version, and both turned out delicious.

• Nomad Snacks’ ramen-flavored popcorn. I found it at Sprouts and fell in love (and now can’t find it anymore).

• This lemon pepper chicken recipe, an unexpected banger (I used thighs instead of breasts and added capers).

• Okiboru Tsukemen & Ramen, a Michelin-rated spot. The bowls could be bigger, but the ramen was excellent.

• Bar Blanc, finally! Going there had become a running joke among my friends because two of us had made several unsuccessful attempts to eat there previously. We finally did, and had a great time with their steak and unlimited frites. They also make a good dirty martini.

• Jolene Jolene, Atlanta’s first bar for women’s sports, which I must mention even though I ended up there on a whim and only had drinks (which were good). But I will be going back because I want to try their food, and because the female-to-male ratio was like 50:1.

I read seven books in August and liked all of them. But I did have favorites:

• The Girls Who Grew Big: A novel by an author whose work never misses for me. It’s about a group of teenage mothers living in a small town on the Florida panhandle—their joys, sorrows, and situations. I loved its tender, brutally honest portrayals of sisterhood and motherhood.

• Alligator Tears: A memoir in essays (my jam!) and a survival story that is also set primarily in Florida. It shares the author’s wild and winding journey out of poverty and into the person he was always meant to be. I was both entertained and moved by the dark humor.

• What Are You Going Through: This beautiful literary fiction novel reads almost like a short story collection. In it, a woman describes her encounters with people throughout her life and in her day-to-day moments. It’s an intensely human and unconventional story that probes the meaning of life, death, companionship, and human connection.

• I fell off my goal to watch more movies and TV shows, but I did watch an unhinged number of videos from the Wayback Archives YouTube channel. They have old newscasts and documentaries on so many topics, including the AIDS and crack epidemics.

• Freakier Friday in theaters. I was motivated mainly by the MUNA (favorite band) cameo, but I liked it and even cried.

• A few mini documentaries and shows about an Atlanta man who failed at day trading and decided to kill people over it in 1999.

• Videos from the “Never beating the sheltered Christian kid allegations” social media trend (this one is me).

• This Yacht Rock Revival playlist. It’s still summer!!!

• Song that made me drop a tear in church.

• Balu Brigada’s incredible new indie rock/neo-disco/funk-adjacent album, Portal.

• spill tab’s latest fun, genre-bending “hypnotic alt-pop” album, ANGIE.

• The Aces and The Beaches, helping satisfy my itch for more female-fronted bands after seeing the Freakier Friday movie.

• Sexyy Red, inspired by this icon (not sorry).

• How (and why) I write from the messy middle: An extraordinary essay on why there’s value in creating from the void and writing through uncertainty. As someone with multiple essays lined up about everything I’ve been going through the past few months and plans to publish after they’re resolved, it made me consider writing something about why I don’t typically write from the middle but probably should (watch this space, I guess).

• Sinners in the Sugar Shack: The history behind Ernie Barnes’ famous painting, The Sugar Shack, including its national reach and cultural influence.

• (Almost) Everything I Know About Decluttering: A practical guide to getting rid of clutter—the reasons one might want to do it, how to get it done, etc.

• "How Can I Write At A Time Like This?": A thoughtful reflection by on how it’s possible to write even when the world is experiencing so much horror and pain.

• J. Crew used A.I. to counterfeit their own vibes: A story about the results of an investigation into J. Crew’s undisclosed A.I. use and what they were using it for (which is, frankly, embarrassing).

My nostalgic love for Yumbii / These Madewell flats that make me reconsider my reluctance to embrace flats being trendy again / Should I try my hand at travel writing? / I need a bike helmet! / Susan Sontag's brand of feminism / The super loud neon Kurt Geiger bags that I may only like because they’re loud / What happened to The Outer Banks, who made some Christian music I can get behind? / The joys and rewards of shopping secondhand / The $200+ Charlotte Stone sandals I got for less than $60 on Poshmark / Getting back into reading poetry

From @poetsorg.

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Ever since I stepped one tiny foot into a predominantly white elementary school, I’ve had a particular wisdom drilled into my head: Know who your real friends are. In other words, be wary and be careful—not everyone is your friend.

That wisdom has been valid into adulthood, too, and over the past 30 years or so, I’ve picked up many other lessons from the trial-and-error process of making and maintaining friendships. One of the most important lessons has been that what it takes to nurture a friendship, and even the nature of some of them, will change as the years go by.

In an article in The Atlantic about how friendship changes in adulthood, an interpersonal communication professor shared his observation that what we want from our friendships tends to be the same from childhood to adulthood: “Somebody to talk to, someone to depend on, and someone to enjoy.”

But that’s where the consistency seems to end. “These expectations remain the same,” he said, “But the circumstances under which they’re accomplished change.”

As if navigating friendship expectations versus circumstances wasn’t already difficult enough, I’ve noticed a few things that are making it harder. First, the pervasive individualism in our society and ever-evolving tradwife narratives encourage us to prioritize self-preservation, the nuclear family, and professional success at the expense of our friendships.

On top of that, there’s an increasingly popular phrase that dodges accountability like a punch was thrown, stokes the individualism that our society loves so much, and ruins the nature of community like nothing else: “I don’t owe anyone anything.”

We could argue that humans owe other humans—strangers—basic dignity, courtesy, and kindness. But I’ve noticed this “I don’t owe anyone anything” mindset is also seeping into the way people view and interact with their more intimate relationships, particularly those with friends. Friendship, now that we’re adults, sits at the very bottom of a lot of people’s priority list. That is, until life goes awry and they need a friend.

As is often said in online discourse about adult friendship, “Everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager.” Or like the posters that hung in my elementary school classrooms put it: “To have a friend, you have to be a friend.” The problem is that being a good villager or a good friend doesn’t always mean the same thing to everyone.

What does it take to be a good friend? What are reasonable expectations to have of our friends, especially now that we’re adults navigating things like demanding jobs, raising children, financial woes, and aging parents? How much of ourselves and our lives do we owe our friends? What, if anything, do they owe us in return?

It depends on who you ask.

If you’re asking me, friendship as an adult is incredibly important yet outrageously complex, and defining a “good friend” requires some nuance. That’s why it has taken me longer to write this article than any other.

The latest data and reports on friendship are full of contradictions. Because of social media, we’re technically more connected than ever. But it’s a false connection. Seeing people’s lives displayed online makes us feel like we’re keeping up with our friends and interacting with others when, in the real world, people are lonelier than ever.

A recent Harvard study found that my age group (ages 30–44) was the most lonely group (29% were “frequently or always lonely”). However, another study, which surveyed nearly 6,000 American adults about their friendships, found that very few people were actually dissatisfied with the number of friends they have.

Their issues, rather than not having friends (only 4% reported having none), were not feeling emotionally close to their friends and not knowing how to make time for them. As The Atlantic summed up the study’s findings in their article, The Friendship Paradox, “Americans have friends. We just never really see them.”

The unfortunate reality of adult friendship is that most of us want deep, active friendships, but very few of us structure our lives in a way that makes them possible. We all have other demands on our time and different waves of life that we’re journeying through. With limited time to spare, who and what will we choose to spend it with?

We can’t choose our blood family, but friendship is a choice, which places these relationships in territory that can feel more optional and informal. But since friendship is consistently linked with happiness (especially as we get older), it’s crucial to find a way to fit it in.

It’s clear, however, that common relationship hierarchies (romantic relationships above all others) and modern life structures (productivity over connection) aren’t working, and our inability to integrate our friendships into our lives is killing those relationships.

Almost two years ago, I posted a TikTok video about one-sided friendships. I had realized that, in some of my friendship dynamics, I was the friend who was most often reaching out and making plans, and I wondered how much reciprocity was fair to expect from friends who may be wired differently.

The video attracted more comments than I expected, and most people’s opinions fell into one of two categories:

1. Due to their personality type or ADHD (or some other neurodivergence), they struggle with the concept of time, object permanence, remembering to reach out, or initiating things in general. They’re grateful for their friends who are like me and continue to be the ones to reach out, as they often struggle to do so themselves.

2. They’re the friend who is always initiating contact and not getting the same energy back, and they struggle with the same feelings of frustration. They recognize that some circumstances deserve grace, but don’t know how much to give or for how long. They believe that people make time for who and what they want to make time for, and if their friends can respond to emails at work and remember to text their boyfriend back, they can send a simple text to check in on their friends.

Shortly after I posted the video, I decided that I sided with the people in the first category. People are wired differently, and this wiring can influence how effectively they maintain communication with those they care about.

I still believe that this is generally true, but now that I, too, have been diagnosed with ADHD, I have a much harder time accepting the neurodivergence/personality type excuse. I know many people—myself included—who are not neurotypical or extroverted, but still have thriving, active friendships because they value those relationships and choose to prioritize them.

I now agree more with what Chelsea Fagan, who has some of my favorite takes on friendship and community building, expressed in this video. Here’s part of what she said:

“I do not doubt that, for executive functioning reasons, some of these things are harder for certain people than for others, but life is hard for everyone, and most people have to go above and beyond to maintain these relationships.

One person may not have executive function issues, but maybe they're caring for a disabled parent, a single mom, working multiple jobs…or any other number of issues that many people have to go through in life that make it hard to maintain platonic relationships and build community.

The point is, it's fairly rare for anyone to have unlimited time, energy, and resources to dedicate to building community. It's just something you have to put in effort to do. If you're not gonna do that, fine. But you can't expect for other people to just be okay with that in perpetuity.”

In another video on the topic, she made other great points about being a villager in order to have a village, including:

“Many of the most fundamental aspects of community building and relationship maintenance are inherently, to some extent, kind of annoying. To do it requires showing up when we don't necessarily want to. Giving energy when we don't have a ton of it to go around. Requires honoring what we commit to. And it means, above all, accepting that we are not the main character. We are simply a character in a much greater story.

While that can feel counterintuitive at first, especially for some Americans, in the end, it actually does make us much happier and stronger as human beings to be part of a strong community. The village is not something that is given to you. It is something that is actively created. And if you are not willing to create it, then you should not expect to have it.”

And that’s what I’ve realized a lot of this friendship stuff comes down to: choices and priorities.

I think, read, and talk about friendship a lot. But no matter how many podcasts I listen to, books I read, or conversations I have about it, I’ve realized that different people often have different approaches to friendship, and the best I can do is pour my effort into those whose priorities and expectations most closely align with mine.

It’s not about who is invited to a birthday party (or a concert, as it usually is in my case). It’s not about who will flake on their friends to hang out with their boyfriend. It’s not about who takes three months to text back or who thinks social media “likes” count as connection. It’s about who is okay with that.

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Another aspect of adult friendship that I’ve had to grasp in order to stop getting my feelings hurt so often is the concept of friendship “levels,” which I’ve never been good at.

If I have a friend who’s not a close friend yet, I’m steadily trying to make them a close friend. I haven’t quite grasped the concept of fringe friends or acquaintances, but I’m trying to, because we no longer have Myspace’s Top 8 feature to show us where we stand with people.

I’ve heard countless stories about how the changing seasons of life (weddings, kids, moves, etc.) reveal mismatched friendship levels. For example, Friend A was shocked to find out that she wasn’t invited to be a bridesmaid in Friend B’s wedding because, if Friend A had been the one getting married, she would’ve asked Friend B to be in her wedding party.

But I don’t believe we have to wait for a wedding. The signs are all around us, and it’s not petty to pay attention to them. It’s easy for me to overestimate my role in someone’s life because I tend to take friendship so seriously, but when I know where I stand with friends and where my friends stand in my (often unintentional) hierarchy of friendships, I can match my expectations with the level of closeness I actually have with each one.

I say “actually” because a 2016 study found that only about 50% of perceived friendships are mutual. Around 94% of study participants expected their feelings about a friend to be reciprocated, but only 53% of them actually were. Ouch.

While it’s ego-bruising to realize you’re a fringe friend to someone you once considered a close friend, I ultimately feel grateful after I’ve overcome the initial hurt and shock. There are few things more antithetical to a healthy friendship than mislabeled relationships and misplaced expectations.

Now, I can adjust my expectations based on what the friend can actually offer, rather than what I wish they would offer. Instead of forcing closeness, I’m forced to re-evaluate: Is this the type of friend I want to have? Can I align with the level of friendship they want to give me, or should I let this go?

The hardest part for me to accept has been that, while I may be hurt, no one has (typically) done anything wrong. For some people, friendship is a priority, but I’m not one of the friends they prioritize. They may be an inconsistent friend to me, but someone else’s best friend. Who among us doesn’t have some people we’re much closer to than others? It’s natural.

Research has proven it, showing that our brains seem to limit the number of people who can play a meaningful role in our lives. For most of us, our capacity for simultaneous close friendships is capped at approximately five people.

In a podcast interview, Trevor Noah put it this way: “I almost don’t think there’s such a thing as a bad friend. I think you’re just in a bad friendship. Because they could be a great friend to somebody else, so I wouldn’t even define them as being a good or bad friend. I just go, ‘This is a bad friendship for you.’”

Not all friendships will be reciprocal or equally invested, and friendship approaches tend to vary as much as eye and hair color combinations. Friendship can be complex, but I believe this part is simple: We have to accurately assess the roles we play in our friends’ lives, determine what is acceptable friendship behavior to us, and navigate these relationships accordingly.

Despite how this 2,000+ word essay makes it look, I don’t spend all of my time overthinking about and researching friendship. I have the lessons I’ve learned about friendship tucked into my mind, but I mostly just feel free to enjoy it now.

Like most adults, I have a limited amount of energy, but I choose to spend some of it on my friendships because I cherish the beauty they’ve brought to my life. Cherishing them is why I prioritize them, and prioritizing them is how I plan to keep them. I agreed with Dolly Alderton when she said, “Nearly everything I know about love, I've learnt from my long-term friendships with women.”

I once watched an older woman read a poem titled “Keep Your Girlfriends” at a bridal shower. I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear this advice from someone of her generation, but I was. I’d been made to feel like a rebel for giving friendship such a high placement in my life.

The poem stressed what I always knew deep down: My friends, the women who would’ve been at my wedding whether my husband was or not, deserve their place.

I sat on a porch in Waycross, Georgia on a summer day, drinking iced tea and visiting with my Mother. "Don't forget your girlfriends," Mother advised, clinking the ice cubes in her glass. "No matter how much you love your husband, you are still going to need girlfriends. Remember to go places with them now and then; do things with them. And remember that girlfriends are not only friends, but sisters, daughters and other relatives too."

What a funny piece of advice, I thought. Hadn't I just gotten married? Hadn't I just joined the couple-world? I was now a married woman, for goodness sake, not a young girl who needed girlfriends. But I listened to my Mom. I kept contact with my girlfriends and made more each year. As the years tumbled by, one after another, gradually I came to understand that Mom really knew what she was talking about.

Here is what I know about Girlfriends:

Girlfriends bring casseroles and scrub your bathroom when you need help. Girlfriends keep your children and keep your secrets.

Girlfriends give advice when you ask for it. Sometimes you take it, sometimes you don't. Girlfriends don't always tell you that you're right, but they're usually honest. Girlfriends still love you, even when they don't agree with your choices.

Girlfriends laugh with you, and you don't need canned jokes to start the laughter. Girlfriends pull you out of jams.

Girlfriends will give a party for your son or daughter when they get married or have a baby, in whichever order that comes! Girlfriends are there for you, in an instant and when the hard times come. Girlfriends listen when you lose a job or a friend. Girlfriends listen when your children break your heart.

Girlfriends listen when your parents' minds and bodies fail.

Girlfriends cry with you when someone you loved dies.

My daughters, sisters, family, and friends bless my life!

When we began this adventure we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other.

Keep your girlfriends.

And keep them I shall. It’s the very least I can do.

The word “owe” feels like it may be too strong to use in reference to friendship, since being a friend to someone shouldn’t feel like a chore or forced obligation. But when I think about the concept of community, there’s a certain amount of reciprocity required. How much is up to each of us to decide.

It’s up to us to recognize patterns of mutual investment or one-sided effort. There’s no one-size-fits-all definition of a “good friend.” What we owe each other in exchange for our friendship is ultimately negotiable.

As for me, I aim to deepen the few instead of trying to engage the many. I’ve learned to prioritize those who prioritize me. Across state lines and differing lifestyles, this never looks the same with every friend. That’s part of what makes these relationships special.

I’m trying to be the type of friend I want to have. I want to model consistency and care. To me, that’s what friendship is about: doing my best to stay connected, even when my best may look different from week to week. I at least owe them that.

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Largely written on March 22, 2024—well before…anything (more on that later).

The good news is

there are more tulip fields in the Netherlands than anyone who has tried to count tulip fields can count

Life can be as bitter as dandelion greens one minute, as delightful as warm bread fresh from the oven the next / Love exists / Love exists and it can be between friends, between lovers, between you and your pet lizard

Somewhere there's a dog being overprotective of a newborn baby / Newborn babies / A deep belly laugh with friends is as good a salve as any / If God is real to you, God is as close as your next breath / God is still real to me / It's not too late to start over, become someone you're proud of, someone no one recognizes / It's not too late

Somewhere there's a kid squealing with joy at the sight of a bubble / Libraries are still around / You can learn about anything you want / You're allowed to change your mind / The first sip of tea will always feel like a warm hug / You don't have to wear pants to bed / Single doesn't mean alone / Putting your face to the sun helps (just close your eyes first)

You don't have to agree with me / I don't have to agree with you / The Grand Canyon will be there whenever you can make it / It's not a competition / No one thinks about you as much as you think about you / No one is judging you as harshly as you're judging you / You can still play the games you loved as a child / You can get on eBay and buy that thing you loved as a child

If you can't find the silver lining today, you can keep looking tomorrow / You don't have to look for a silver lining or be grateful for the worst days / You have survived every last one of your worst days / Rainy days are good for something (for souls) / There are more books in the world than you can read in your lifetime / You get to write the ending

Most failure isn't fatal / You can learn to make your favorite food / You can get your favorite food delivered to your door within the hour / The farmers market opens early / You don't have to choose between waffles and pancakes / Tax season only comes once a year / Arizona Iced Tea is still 99-cents (for now) / We rebranded Tuesday into a perfect excuse to get tacos / You don't need an excuse to get tacos

You can quit, turn on your heels and walk away, move away, give the two-week notice, give no notice, give the ring back / You're not stuck / You have permission / You don't need permission / No one could post videos on social media when you were young / You can't get in trouble with your parents as an adult / Your therapist can't judge you (out loud) / You don't have to do it the way everyone else does it (life) / All you need is one yes.

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Y'all mind if I spin up another random monthly roundup right quick? I’m writing most of this from Panama, so it’s going out later than I planned, but July was a whirlwind of a month that’s worth reporting on. (BTW, I’m still playing around with the format for these “report” style posts, so you’ll notice a new section.)

If I’m honest, I barely remember last month. So much happened, including another beach trip that required me to relax and refocus. But I needed that break in routine, needed to hear the sound of waves and feel the breeze coming through a screen as I read my book in a rocking chair. I needed the reminder that my current chaos is temporary and, in the grand scheme of things like the ocean’s depth and the state of a starving world, small potatoes.

Anyway, here’s what I liked, did, ate, etc. in July!

• Beach towns, particularly the easily walkable (and bikeable!) ones like Seaside (Santa Rosa Beach), Florida, where I went with family in July.

• Bikes. I’m randomly rediscovering the joy of riding, and it’s great.

• Lucy & Yak’s Charlie shorts, which I have in leopard print. The quality is much better than any of my other shorts.

• The charm necklace I made at Lala Links in Seaside. I’ve wanted one for so long!

• Spontaneous hangouts. This was easier and more frequent when I lived in the city, but one “Are you at home? I’m near your neighborhood” call made me think about how much I love the casual, everyday moments of friendship.

• This double-wide padded chair from Buc-ee's, which I passed up the first time I saw it, but not the second!

• Doing my nails at home has been all fun and games until I over-filed them recently. Nailtiques Formula 2 and OPI Repair Mode helped me bring my nails back to life.

• Tower 28’s SOS Gel Cleanser, which I decided to try after my last one ran out. My skin has been much clearer since.

• howlongtoread.com because I couldn’t just read my book like a normal person; I wanted to test my reading speed and determine how long it’d take me to finish it.

• The butter candle at Gallion’s in Rosemary Beach, Florida

• Hot dogs on my grill with pico de gallo

• MTH Pizza, which some new friends recommended recently (hi, Erika!), and we’ve been there twice since

• I didn’t have the brain power necessary to make my own cookies for a gathering, so I bought Love & Cookies frozen cookie dough and was so impressed

• Primal Gourmet’s picadillo recipe from his cookbook (but also here)

• Spicy Caribbee’s Green Heat hot sauce has been making every dish better (I bought it in Puerto Rico)

I read six books in July. My favorites were:

• Audition: A Novel: This is a firmly modernist, deeply interior literary fiction novel. It won’t be for everyone, but it was for me. It’s hard to describe and even comprehend at parts, but the writing is stunning, and the book asks interesting questions about identity. My thoughts are the same as Roxane Gay’s: “I'll be honest—I don't know that I understand all that was going on here but this is sublime writing from one word to the next, from the first word to the last.”

• Splinters: Another Kind of Love Story: Within the divorce memoirs category, Splinters isn’t my #1. But just like Audition, it’s beautifully written. It’s an intimate exploration of love lost and new love found, motherhood and its complexities, and what taking our art seriously can mean for the other areas of our lives.

• Wake Up to Wonder: 22 Invitations to Amazement in the Everyday: I’ve barely been able to tolerate a lot of Christian books from traditional publishers lately, so I was surprised how much I liked this. This one highlights historical figures, such as Henri Nouwen and Fannie Lou Hamer, and dedicates a chapter to lessons from their lives, activism, faith practices, and more. I needed a lighter read, and this was a good one.

• Instead of branching out to new shows, I’m rewatching Girlfriends

• I also finally watched the first Shiny Happy People about the Duggars and plan to watch the new season soon (media about cults and cult-like things will always be my jam, I fear)

• I only got through three movies (that’s more than I’d usually watch in a year, so…), but my favorite was Crossing—hands down—about a seemingly cold and guarded retiree from Georgia who, along with her young neighbor, crosses the border into Turkey to search for her transgender niece (Whatever genre of movie this is, that’s my type)

Since consuming media other than books is a 2025 goal, I’ve been tracking TV shows on Serializd and movies on Letterboxd. Add me if you want!

• The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea podcast, which is about the “Satanic Panic” of the 1980s-90s (again with the cult-like things—I’m so predictable)

• My “seaside drive vibes” playlist (Larry and I made it when we were dating and filled it with perfectly beachy songs)

• Plenty of Olivia Dean

• I rediscovered Kehlani’s blue water road album and became re-obsessed with it

• My “now walk it out” playlist, which I made in 2021 and am still proud of, got a lot of play because I’ve been doing a lot of walking on trails

Film cameras / The cargo skirt I didn’t buy from Nuuly but should have / MTH Pizza’s Caesar salad with anchovies / How nothing hits like old time Gospel music / My husband saying this design reminds him of me (lol) / How at peace I feel in a screened in porch / This take on Christian parents setting their kids up to fail / Should I buy an e-bike? / Becoming a morning person again / Smash burgers, all the time

From @poetryisnotaluxury.

I love reading memoirs. You can be nosy, but with intellectual curiosity!

Reading in general is great for developing empathy and understanding others’ perspectives, but the memoir genre gives us the story directly from the source, and there’s so much we can learn from someone else’s experiences.

If you want to read more memoirs or if you love memoirs and you’re looking for a new one to read, here are my recommendations based on other genres you like.

Also, I’ve read 79 memoirs (thanks to StoryGraph for that data!), so this is part one of a series if you all like this post.

Historical Fiction Readers

• No Name in the Street by James Baldwin: Baldwin recounts his childhood growing up in Harlem, from early experiences that shaped him to historical events of the 1960s and 70s, revealing his despair during those times and speaking to contemporary conversations about racism, violence, injustice, and grief.

• The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother by James McBride: This narrative is as engaging and detailed as fiction, as McBride revisits his mother’s fascinating journey, reflects on historical events and social issues, and candidly describes his experiences as a mixed-race child growing up in poverty.

Family Saga Readers

• The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls: In one of the most unique and absorbing memoirs I’ve read, Walls describes the dysfunctional and unconventional circumstances in which she and her siblings grew up, and how, even after they became adults, their free-spirited, chronically unstable parents continued to choose homelessness.

• Heavy: An American Memoir by Kiese Laymon: Laymon’s signature eloquent writing style comes through in his powerful and challenging memoir, where he writes about growing up in Jackson, Mississippi, his complicated mother and family plagued by secrets and lies, and his struggles with weight and identity.

• Men We Reaped by Jesmyn Ward: Like Heavy, Men We Reaped is set in Mississippi. In her memoir, Ward tells the story of her childhood through the lens of loss, drawing parallels between the deaths of her brother and friends and the pressures that Black men are often overburdened by.

• Hell If We Don't Change Our Ways by Brittany Means: Means' unflinching memoir chronicles her childhood marked by abuse, violence, neglect, and instability, as she comes of age in the passenger seat while her mother escapes abusive relationships. (It probably goes without saying that most of these memoirs require trigger warnings for one thing or another, but this one especially; read my review for details.)

Black Lit Readers

• I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown: This memoir examines Brown’s experiences as a Black woman navigating predominantly white Christian spaces and institutions throughout her life. I wrote a long-form review of it for The Witness: A Black Christian Collective in 2018, which you can read here.

• Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford: This one could’ve easily fit into the previous category, too, because Ford’s memoir is a brave exploration of family trauma and a beautiful story of self-discovery. In it, she delves into her relationship with her incarcerated father, her complex relationship with her mother, and her coming-of-age woes as a Black woman growing up in the Midwest.

• Buck by M.K. Asante: Asante’s memoir tells his journey growing up in Philadelphia, navigating family struggles and mental health issues, as he eventually discovers the power of words and finds his life’s passion. He tells his story in a raw, matter-of-fact writing style and through hip hop lyrics (written by himself and others).

Romance and Spice Readers

• More: A Memoir of Open Marriage by Molly Roden Winter: This frank and charged memoir explores Winter’s decision to open her marriage and the emotional complexities and sexual adventures that followed. It has been—fairly, IMO—described as a bad representation of consensual non-monogamy, but Winter is a great writer and storyteller, and her experiences with motherhood, marriage, and steamy fun might make for an easy entry into the memoir genre for those who typically prefer books of the romance or smut variety.

• Who I Always Was: A Memoir In Essays by Theresa Okokon: Okokon’s memoir details her journey of coming into her own—her desires, her connection with Blackness after growing up in almost all-white suburbs in Wisconsin, and her understanding of her father’s mysterious death after he traveled to Nigeria when she was nine and never returned. Her dating stories and pop culture insights were my least favorite aspects of her story, but they would likely be welcome with romance readers.

Have you read any of these memoirs? Did you find a new one to read? Would you like more recommendations in part two based on other genres you enjoy? Let me know in the comments.

For more nonfiction book recommendations, check out this post:

A few months before we got married, someone said to me, “I guess you need to get rid of that pink pot in your kitchen now.”

If you’re uninitiated on the inner workings of gender-based nonsense, like my now-husband is, this person was implying that I shouldn’t have anything “girly” in common areas since I’d soon be sharing a house with a man.

I replied with something along the lines of, “If his masculinity were so fragile that he’d be upset about a pot being pink, I can assure you, I wouldn’t be marrying him.” (Today, I’d say something like, “Who says only women can have pink things?” and prepare for battle.)

When I told my husband this story years later, as we were scooping out that night’s dinner from the same pink pot, he was baffled. “What? Why would it matter what color the pot is?” he asked.

I launched into a “Misogyny 101” lesson, one of many I’ve shared with him over the course of our marriage. We discussed how some people see the color pink as a symbol of weakness and femininity at its most superficial and stereotypical, how, thanks to internalized misogyny, women sometimes grow to hate pink because of what society has taught them it represents, and how the sexist “pink is for girls” myth is more pervasive than many of us realize.

As usual, he thought it was all stupid. I think it’s stupid, too, but as someone who was socialized the way women typically are, I’m not surprised when silly (and commonly unspoken) gender rules pop up in the form of well-intentioned relationship advice or behavior expectations that someone assumes we adhere to.

His confusion tells me he managed to escape some (hopefully most, if not all) of the typical misogynistic programming that so many men I’ve met seemed to soak up like a sponge. So, puzzled and fascinated, I explain that his responses and experiences aren’t typical or universal, and how much harm men who believe the opposite continue to cause.

While my explanations resemble a type of emotional labor that women are often tasked with, his initial confusion is always welcome proof that misogyny is not innate—it’s learned.

And, by marrying a writer, he becomes a case study.

Multiple times, I’ve told my husband about a popular Christian figure’s latest scandal and watched him say, “Who?” These are often the people trying to keep toxic beliefs about gender roles alive, and he has no idea who they are. I’m happy for him.

I was in my early 20s when a few churches introduced me to their theological views and rules about cross-gender dynamics. While presented to me subtly, they were insidious, and they ultimately painted women as inherently tempting, threatening, and subservient to men.

One night, when I was almost in my mid-30s and far removed from those churches, I told my husband that I wanted to check on a mutual friend we hadn’t heard from in a while. But he should text the friend instead of me, I said. He asked, “Why don’t you just…text him?”

And so I explain that it “looks bad” to some people for a woman (especially a married one like me) to text a man, even in a context as platonic and straightforward as this one. I shared how this played out with male bosses and coworkers when I worked at a church: we couldn’t have one-on-one meetings or conversations without someone making it weird, and even riding to lunch together wasn’t allowed.

We both recognized a familiar thread running through these beliefs and rules, but our conversation revealed blind spots in the male experience. The obvious thread was misogynistic control and an allegiance to patriarchal systems, which taught men and women something different about modesty and purity, sold women a type of “separate but equal” theology about their roles in the home and church, and declared leadership as a male-only trait.

We talked about how some sects of Christianity bar women from pastoral positions simply on the basis of being women, and affirm men as the head of everything just because they’re men. I shared how many women grow up learning that it’s our responsibility to enforce the rules that were created to oppress and control us, which is why, in the contexts where I received my programming before my frontal lobe developed, it would come back on me for texting our friend.

I watched my husband’s jaw drop and heard him say, “I hate this. Burn it all down. Text him.”

Misogyny lazily writes women off as dangerous and unworthy, removing the need to exercise discernment, common decency, and nuance in things like cross-gender friendships and work relationships. It robs women of connection and multifaceted love by insisting we’re nothing more than a temptation to be avoided. It can also stall our professional growth, especially in ministry, as we watch our male colleagues being mentored by the male boss because no one is making their one-on-one time weird.

, who is all too familiar with misogyny in the Church, tackled this topic in her book, Why Can’t We Be Friends?, writing:

“When instead we regard one another as temptations, as means merely of gratifying sexual desires, or as threats to our image, and we do not regard one another honorably as brothers and sisters, we are not loving deeply.

…Table fellowship doesn’t cause affairs. Sexual impropriety arises from affections that are not rightly ordered. When this is the case, then yes, ordinary activities such as lunch, texting, and traveling in the same car can be avenues for bad behavior. But the table isn’t the problem. The problem is the heart.”

Misogyny perverts these “ordinary activities,” and this can be heavily reinforced and justified in churches. It’s not only Christians, and it’s not all Christians, but it’s in Christian spaces where I’ve witnessed the most cognitive dissonance about gender dynamics.

It’s where many can somehow see sexism in general as bad, but view patriarchy as good. It’s where many have convinced themselves that they can claim to love and honor women while relegating them to a lower station in their homes, churches, and society.

Some might say, “It’s not misogyny, it’s biblical,” and claim that the men doing harm are doing so as a twisted misapplication of proper theology, a theology that still places women under men. But their theology is what gives them the idea and often gives them a pass. They’re not harming women despite their theology, but because of it.

When I read the book A Well-Trained Wife earlier this year, the main thing that struck me was how the abuser’s beliefs were not a far cry from the sneaky, misogyny-laced theology that is still common in many churches.

I couldn’t help calling it out in my review, where I wrote, in part:

I have seen a small subset of reviewers trying to separate their rigid religious beliefs from the outcomes [the author] experienced and having to employ the "no true Scotsman" fallacy to do so. It's true that most Christians don't believe or behave in exactly this way. Still, this memoir reminded me that it's not a far leap from theological positions that say women must be submissive and subservient to men to abusive and oppressive situations like the author's.

Her story presents the patriarchy, which is often still upheld in some branches of Christianity today, as the clear problem. It's what allowed and emboldened men in authority to do the types of things described in her memoir…

…I don't want anyone going into this memoir writing it off too quickly as an extreme case without recognizing how destructive certain theologies can be and how much closer their own beliefs may be to patriarchal fundamentalism than they realize.

In stark contrast, my husband has long-term friendships with women who clearly felt safe with him (he was the “Man of Honor” in one of their weddings, standing on the bride’s side). Without prompting, he uses words like “agency” and “autonomy” when discussing our relationship.

We’re both thankful we can still have a faith that rejects the misogyny that Jesus never taught. I don’t know how he learned to be this way (maybe out of love and respect for the women in his life, his natural empathy, or his dedication to consent and compassion?), but I know it wasn’t from the American/evangelical/conservative Christianity we both know and have had different experiences within.

When he reacts to my experiences, it’s a mirror reflecting the absurdity of normalized sexism back to me.

I tend to attract men who buck against masculinity expectations and stereotypes, and whenever a “macho man” has somehow snuck into my orbit, it’s typically been a disaster. I once dated an Enneagram 8 oldest son, and it was a chaotic misadventure for both of us.

But the reason anyone for whom the “Enneagram 8 oldest son” description means something might have a negative reaction to it is because of the stereotype that a man like this would be excessively aggressive and dominant, rejecting vulnerability and embodying toxic masculinity. In many ways, that was true, and I believe it’s because of what cultural conditioning taught him about what made him a man and what role I was supposed to play in his life.

I don’t believe that emotional unavailability, objectification of women, and being domineering are inevitable characteristics of masculinity. That’s another lie that misogyny tells. I believe my generation can nurture a different kind of awareness in boys and men, one that preserves their capacity for genuine empathy, curiosity, and kindness.

In other words, it doesn’t have to be this way. When women like Katie Fillmore, the wife behind Pinkpill RX (which I discovered while writing this), and I spend time explaining our lived experiences to our husbands, we’re taking a swing that we hope will shatter any notion they might have had about our experiences being equal or even acceptable.

We can support men’s growth without taking full responsibility for it, and push our shared desire for a world without misogyny forward (because, let’s face it, misogyny and patriarchy are bad for men, too). We can do more than hope for a world where explanations like these become less and less necessary—we can make misogynistic attitudes and belief systems unwelcome today.

It feels like a privilege to love someone who makes misogyny feel foreign, but I want a world where all men have turned their backs on it. We have a very long way to go.

My husband isn’t a perfect man (and I’m not a perfect woman), but his existence proves that male socialization toward misogyny is something men can opt out of. The fact that he doesn’t get it fills me with a strange kind of hope. His questions are a window into what’s possible.

Well, folks, the transition to Substack didn’t go as smoothly as planned…but we made it. Like a few other things in my life right now, their posts import tool happened to break exactly when I needed it not to.

If I’d known I’d be faced with manually importing 158 posts from the past 13 years (and domain transfer woes and forfeiting any privacy unless I enable paid subscriptions), I might not have made the move. But I still believe this move was the right move, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t know what was coming, eh?

I decided to import only the last two years, a select few essays, and my top books of the year posts through 2018. The 2017 books post didn’t make it for the same reason I was ultimately at peace with not bringing old posts to this new space: I’m a very different person than I was back then.

A lot of what I wrote in the past, frankly, makes me cringe today. And while I initially wanted the full archive here for memory’s sake, I no longer stand by some of my beliefs or book recommendations from that era, and therefore, I’m not broken up about them no longer having an active presence on the internet soon. (I recognize that I may feel that way about 2025 posts in 10 years, too.)

I have them all saved in multiple places and file formats for reference purposes. As one of my friends joked…

Anyway, this wasn’t my only project in June. Here are a few other things I got up to!

• I used to go to the farmers’ market and cook based on random things I bought, so I got back to that little creative exercise.

• Summer Fridays’ Lip Butter Balm. I loved the free sample (Pink Sugar) so much that I had to get the full size (Poppy).

• Cleaning makeup tools more regularly with my brush/sponge shampoo and scrubbing mat.

• SAM-e supplements, supposedly a natural depression remedy (which are either working or giving me a placebo effect, so…still working?).

• Random road trips with friends and bookstore visits, this time to Bookish in East Atlanta and Thank You Books and Little Professor in Birmingham, AL.

• Caved and bought dad sneakers for my silly mental health walks. Dare I say they’re the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn?

• BAGGU’s pink lobster print, which I’ve mentioned before, but now have in the baby reusable bag and picnic blanket. Who wants to read outside with me when I figure out how to keep wasps away?

EATING OUT

• My annual summer lobster roll, this time from Skull Creek Dockside in Hilton Head, SC.

• Sammy’s, a cute and delicious new deli in Adair Park.

• Staplehouse (finally!), whose vibe, food, and drinks I adored.

• Boca in Summerhill, which makes a great mezcal margarita and has consistently good food and service, plus a bar that’s perfect for eating and reading alone before my book club in the area.

EATING AT HOME

• Mango sauce cups, a random find at Sprouts. My favorite fruit in purée form? Yes, please.

• I got garlic chives from the farmer’s market and made these gochujang pork and rice bowls with them (and 4x-ed the recipe).

• All hail these flavorful Greek lemon potatoes (gift recipe link).

FICTION

• When the Reckoning Comes: A thriller/horror novel about what happens when childhood friends reconnect for their friend’s wedding on a plantation. This was more engaging than I expected, but fell a little flat in the end.

• Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One: A book club pick and fun story about a lesbian clown trying to find her way in life, love, and career. Again, a strong start and a flat ending for me, but still a good time.

• Chain-Gang All-Stars: A dark dystopian novel centering on two women gladiators who are fighting for their freedom in a for-profit prison system. I had to take a break from it in May due to constant violence, but it’s a really impressive book that holds a mirror up to our current society and justice system.

NONFICTION

• Be Ready When the Luck Happens: A memoir by the iconic Ina Garten, which left much to be desired on the writing front, but was charming, interesting, and inspiring all the same.

• Shame-Sex Attraction: An essay collection that tells the stories of conversion “therapy” survivors and exposes these traumatic practices. Some essays were better than others, but it’s a solid compilation of some very important stories.

• There’s Always This Year: Despite the subtitle clearly being “On Basketball and Ascension,” these essays were more sports-centered than I was prepared for. This hindered my enjoyment somewhat, but the writing is truly excellent, and so are the author’s meditations on grief and community.

I enjoyed every book I read in June for different reasons, but some are hard to recommend for obvious reasons. Chain-Gang All-Stars is a good example, even though it was the standout.

MOVIES

• The Hunger Games (except The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes). I hadn’t seen any until recent watch nights on a family beach trip, but now I have many thoughts about the series’ cultural relevancy and plan to read the books soon.

• To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995), a heartwarming movie about three Manhattan drag queens who take a cross-country road trip. It didn’t exactly stand the test of time, but it was sweet.

• Do the Right Thing (1989), one of those classic Black movies that I’d seen bits and pieces of but never watched all the way through. I love the way this was produced. It was a perfect summer watch, with many good moments and quotes.

VIDEOS

• Pastor Shawn on the socials.

• Every Intervention episode that A&E uploads.

• The Tyler show, which almost made me want to go on a cruise.

• @jessicaslitfics, a new follow whose taste in books is pretty similar to mine and who has introduced me to some new titles.

MUSIC

• HAIM’s new album.

• “Savannah” by Jensen McRae on repeat because I’ll always love a haunting, emotional bop (see last month’s hyper-fixation song by Khatumu).

• This ”writing the summer away” playlist.

• Lots of MICHELLE. I missed their show in Atlanta, but they make the perfect summertime car music for me.

PODCASTS

• This “Favored or Forsaken” episode by Faith Adjacent had good thoughts on civil disobedience and the (frankly, tired) argument about Christians and spicy books.

• A Bit Fruity’s “The Antisemitism Panic” episode. I loved this sensible take, and they’re quickly becoming one of my favorite podcasts.

• I randomly stumbled upon Liz Moody’s podcast and liked her “Why Friendship Is So Hard These Days” episode. She covers several reasons adult friendships can be such a struggle and seven things that can help.

My emotional support mango popsicles with tajín / How one might resist #skinnytok and the resurgence of diet culture / This tequila teacup I randomly spotted at Ponce City Market / Miss Rachel’s bravery and critical activism / Little Shop of Stories in Decatur’s anniversary tee / Zohran Mamdani’s historic mayoral primary win in NY / This very valid question that I had also been pondering / What I’m going to do with the thousands of articles I saved now that Pocket is shutting down

One thing about me is that I've been in the blogosphere for a very long time. I started my first blog on Geocities in fifth grade (2001) and, since then, I've migrated wherever the bloggers and blog readers were at the time. I've had blogs on LiveJournal, Xanga, Tumblr, and others that I can no longer remember since a whopping 20 years have passed.

When I started this blog, Shannon Sometimes, during college in 2011, it was on Blogger/Blogspot. I eventually moved it to self-hosted WordPress, where it remained for many years before I moved it again to Ghost in early 2023.

Despite the rising popularity of Substack in 2023, I chose Ghost because it is open source and more customizable. I had also learned that Substack was getting heat for allowing Nazi content on the platform. I didn't love that, and didn't want to publish my writing (albeit non-monetized writing) on a platform that allowed blatant hate speech.

Substack ended up backtracking on their original, controversial perspective on the matter and removing pro-Nazi newsletters. The blogosphere moved on, and the Substack platform continued to grow.

And now, I've decided to do what I've done many times over the past two decades: go where the people are. Sure, there are plenty of people on Ghost, and it's a wonderful platform, but I've decided to move this blog to Substack for the following reasons:

1. I want more people to be able to find my work.

In other words, the Substack algorithm is currently unbeatable. Substack has become an incredible social media-like platform for creative people, and this social aspect helps people discover new publications to read.

Although this blog is a personal passion project, I put a lot of heart and soul into it, and creating these posts can be a significant amount of work. And while I love you all and the readership I've built here organically, I'd love to reach even more people who want to read words like the ones I write.

2. I already use and enjoy Substack as a reader.

I know that Substack's algorithm is effective for getting publications in front of new eyes because it has helped me discover many writers I subscribe to (some of whom I pay to access their work) and read regularly.

It'll be nice to join in and write in the same space where I already read, comment, and share all the time.

3. I'm not naive about the convenience factor.

I don't want any barriers between this blog and the people who want to read it. Again, I use the Substack app myself, and it's convenient to have almost all of the publications I subscribe to in one place. I want my readers who are already Substack users to enjoy the same convenience.

So, what exactly is changing?

Not much except the platform. The 100+ previous Shannon Sometimes posts will still be available. Soon, the shannonsometimes.com domain will direct to a Substack site instead of the one you're used to seeing.

I've already spoken with the kind folks at Ghost about this transition, and I'll be able to use the space I've already paid for to host my professional portfolio (with a different URL) once this blog is moved to Substack. I'm excited to move my portolio site from Wix, which sucks.

What do you need to do?

Nothing! This is just a heads up because I'm not sure whether Substack will email you about the switch. I didn't want you to be confused. Don't mark me as spam, please!

If you've enjoyed reading Shannon Sometimes, I hope you'll stick around and enjoy it just as much (or even more) in its new online space. I have a long list of essays, book recommendation lists, and other content I want to publish in the near future once this site migration project is done.

Thanks for your support thus far. Many of you have been around since at least the WordPress days. See you on the other side!

May is always a busy month for me because I'm busy being extra about my birthday. It's even more so now that I'm married, because I go further over the top trying to influence my husband to be more extra about his birthday, which is just a few days after mine.

This month was an interesting balance of getting small dopamine hits from wearing increasingly bright color combinations and cashing in points for beauty products that excite my brain's reward circuit, and forcing myself to press pause on my to-do list a few times for mental health reasons, even when I have a list of more "productive" things I feel I should be doing at all times.

With that long sentence said, it was a full month. Here's some of what I filled it with!

• Matcha and I have been locked in for a little while (I got laughed at for ordering the "grass lattes" in college), but I took an unintentionally long hiatus from making it at home. Coffee is just faster. I brought a few cans back from Japan in February, but it wasn't until May that I finally slowed down and started making matcha lattes at home again.

• I tried a new primer, and it gives me such a nice, soft glow on makeup days.

• I took a trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico for my birthday. My friends and I spent a day (yes, AM to PM) at Candado Beach Club, where I remembered that the cabana life is the life for me.

• I felt myself getting sick, but I successfully thwarted it with a combination of Wellness Formula (the 6-capsule dose!), Propolis Throat Spray, and Cymbiotika Liposomal Glutathione and Liposomal Vitamin C. I felt very accomplished.

• I accidentally let my Nuuly pause run out, so I rented this fun pool bar dress and cake print ruffle pants (among other things) for my birthday trip and dinner back home.

• I asked for Bright Peach, a dupe of Tom Ford's $400 Bitter Peach fragrance, for my birthday. It lasts so well for a dupe, but didn't smell as bright and fruity as I remembered. I went to Sephora to smell the real thing, and it smells exactly like it, though. Layering it with Jo Malone's Nectarine Blossom & Honey gave me more of the scent I was going for. A win!

• Unfortunately, Glossier's new Lip Glaze is good (I got Melty).

• For Memorial Day/my husband's birthday, I tried out a few new recipes, including grilled honey mustard chicken and peach salad, BBQ shrimp, and salted lemon cream pie from Alison Roman's cookbook, Sweet Enough.

• My snack obsessions were Outshine mango with tajín popsicles and cinnamon roll Goldfish (they're like graham crackers—not cheese).

• I didn't eat a single bad bite in Puerto Rico, but my favorite meals were at Deaverdura, Princesa, and Santaella.

• For my actual birthday, my husband and I went to Casa Balam in Decatur, a "modern Mexican" restaurant that turned out to be really good.

• My favorite book of the month was How Not to Drown in a Glass of Water, which is about a woman in her mid-50s who loses the job she has held for decades but is eager to share her life story with a job counselor. Through these conversations and ongoing months of unemployment, she makes some long-needed realizations about herself.

• I also really liked My Year of Rest and Relaxation, a weird little book about a young woman who "should" be happy, but would rather take a cocktail of drugs she gets from "one of the worst psychiatrists in the annals of literature" that will help her sleep for a year.

• A family member reminded me that I can access magazines through Libby with my library card, so I've subscribed to a few favorites (The Paris Review, The New York Review of Books, Condé Nast Traveler, etc.) to read for free!

• I did a good bit of my writing and other computer work while listening to Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings' album, Naturally (The Instrumentals). It was a nice, upbeat change to my usual lo-fi playlists.

• On the non-instrumental front, I had a female power ballads playlist phase.

• I listened to a lot of my indie girls, too: Jensen McRae, Katie Gavin, The Japanese House, and Rachel Chinouriri (who I'll see live in June!). They've been the perfect spring vibe.

• My top two hyperfixation songs were "hunting days" by Khatumu and "Best Guess" by Lucy Dacus. It's still a battle not to play them 20x a day, and I'm dangerously close to wearing out both songs. (I'm one of those people...)

• Jia Tolentino was on the Worklife podcast for a great episode about the dangers of identity capitalism. I read her essay collection, Trick Mirror, a few years ago, and she's such a sharp cultural critic.

• I read The Let Them Theory in May, too, which I didn't think was worth mentioning, but this If Books Could Kill podcast episode about it is worth a listen. The hosts pretty much sum up my thoughts on the book.

• This "5 Practices to Find More Joy" podcast episode with Dr. Judith Joseph exceeded my expectations. It was so refreshing and practical.

• I love watching Salary Transparent Street's social media videos. They also have a podcast where they recently broke down a report about which jobs are most at risk (and safest) from AI replacement and automation.

• This is a niche recommendation that only the Christians (and/or exvangelicals) among us will care about, but it was too good not to include. It's a podcast replay of a conference talk on the benefits of deconstruction by New Testament scholar Scot McKnight. I was introduced to him during a very different time in my life and faith, and it was encouraging to hear him speak positively about the "deconstruction" process and challenge some of the most annoying misconceptions about it.

• 28 slightly rude notes on writing – I loved these, especially #7: "All emotions are useful for writing except for bitterness."

• One thought for May: It's okay – Another list of thoughts, but these are of the gentle, refreshing, gracious variety. It's a "take what you need" type of piece, and I bet there's something in it for everyone.

• How Fish Fries Became a Staple of Black Southern Culture – A brief and lovely ode to the fish fry, its meaning, and its history.

• Good conversations I had last week – Tembe Denton-Hurst has an excellent newsletter, and this dispatch on a few things she's been discussing with her friends was particularly interesting. I might take inspiration for a simple list post of my own one day. My league of yappers and I have many great conversations about thought-provoking things that usually evolve into full essays on this blog.

This is a new section I'm testing out (a less chronically online friend requested a section with social media posts I created that month that she often misses but wants to see), but I posted very little in May.

• A little Bookstagram spotlight for the only bookstore I visited in Puerto Rico and the book I bought

• Photos of me wearing the aforementioned cake pants on my birthday, and a promo for the birthday essay I shared on this blog

• I posted most of what we did and ate in Puerto Rico in a "San Juan" highlight on my personal Instagram

How I really shouldn't have volunteered to do my own B12 shots at home / This colorful set from Dash and Dot / Why everything keeps closing in my old neighborhood / Baggu's new pink lobster print / This depressing AI-related Thread that I really wanted to be satire / The Kibbe body type test and whether it can be both helpful and wildly limited / Should I (reluctantly) move this blog to Substack, killing its individuality but expanding its reach? / The Taco Bell app / The college students who can't write essays anymore / What I want to grill next

Thanks for reading!

After a few years of avoiding and declining book clubs because I prefer to read what I like, when I like, and at the pace I like, I came back around and joined a few book clubs this year. No regrets! I'm having fun!

One of my favorite parts of book club meetings is hearing people describe how a book made them feel using some of the funniest metaphors, à la "this book felt like receiving a forehead kiss after a long day of changing poopy diapers." As I prepare for a few upcoming beach trips, I started searching my shelves for books that might make me feel a certain way.

As you may have picked up on if you've been following my book reviews for a while, I'm not exactly a "beach read" person in the traditional sense. But for the beach, I do prefer books that are a little lighter than what I'd typically read and don't require as much mental exertion.

That search for somewhat lighter books, along with some highly specific book club metaphors I've heard, inspired this post. I have read and loved (or really liked) all of these books. Enjoy, please!

1. Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann

I read Let the Great World Spin in 2017, and I still think about it. It's a historical fiction novel that feels more lively and contemporary than most other historical fiction books I've read. It paints a magical portrait of New York City in the 1970s by weaving together the interconnected lives of strangers.

2. Black Buck by Mateo Askaripour

See also: the feeling of watching a car crash you can't look away from. Black Buck is a sharp, satirical take on corporate America, and it's a wild ride. The reader follows Darren, a young Black man from Queens, on his journey from being a Starbucks barista to a cutthroat sales job at a tech startup.

What he faces in his new, predominantly white workplace is all too real and cringey, but also moving and hilarious as he navigates code-switching, ambition, and what success looks like for him.

3. Ghosts by Dolly Alderton

Ghosts is one of my all-time favorite books (I need to re-read it soon to confirm its standing). It's a novel about navigating life in your thirties through the eyes of Nina, a food writer who is facing some of modern womanhood's messiest realities: romantic disappointments, career uncertainties, loneliness, family dynamics, feeling like everyone has life figured out, female friendships, and watching your parents age.

Reading this feels like having a long-winded conversation with one of your deepest-thinking friends about everything that's keeping both of you up at night.

4. The Book of Delights: Essays by Ross Gay

The Book of Delights is one of only two nonfiction books on this list, and it's some of the lightest, breeziest nonfiction you'll ever read. The author spent a year paying careful attention to his life and writing about one thing that delighted him each day.

This essay collection is short and joyful, filled with simple pleasures (such as a perfectly ripe tomato) and heartwarming observations (like strangers helping each other out and musings about pickup basketball). His warm, observant writings help you see the small joys happening around you every day and are perfect for the sunny seasons.

5. The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer

I read The Interestings in 2018, and while I don't remember many details about it, I remember how it made me feel. It inspired thoughts about friendship that stuck with me.

The story follows a group of friends from their teenage years at an art camp in the '70s through their adult lives. It explores how our circumstances, talents, and ambitions shape who we become, and how there is often a gap between who we think we'll be and who we actually become. It's an honest look at the impact that jealousy and success can have on friendships as we grow up and grow into ourselves.

6. Here for It; Or, How to Save Your Soul in America: Essays by R. Eric Thomas

First things first: R. Eric Thomas is hilarious and I love him. Here for It, his debut essay collection, brilliantly combines memoir with cultural criticism, injecting humor into complex and challenging situations.

Thomas' essays provide deeply thoughtful insights into his life as a Black, gay writer navigating small-town Pennsylvania, marriage, internet fame, and more. Reading this felt like listening to my smart, funny friend explain how they're surviving in this life and what they've been thinking about.

7. If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin

In If Beale Street Could Talk (and no, I haven't seen the movie yet!), James Baldwin displays his usual talent for lyrical prose and love stories that are both intimately real and devastating. This novel tells the story of young lovers, Tish and Fonny, who fall in love in 1970s Harlem (this, unintentionally, marks the third 1970s book on this list...).

Their lives and vision of a future together are upended when Fonny is falsely accused of rape. Through Tish's point of view, Baldwin crafts a delicate, gut-wrenching portrait of Black love and family strength in the face of injustice. This book is an outstanding double-edged sword that shows both the beauty of Tish and Fonny's relationship and the brutal reality of racism in America.

8. Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

On a slightly lighter note, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine is about a socially awkward office worker who has set up a carefully structured, intentionally isolated life. Things begin to change for her when she meets and befriends Raymond, an IT guy from her office.

This isn't a love story, exactly (c'mon, you know I'm not a romance girlie—no offense to romance girlies), but a story of self-realization. Eleanor begins to realize that her isolation is masking deeper issues, and she'll need to learn to open her heart and connect with others in order to truly live her life. It's a hopeful and heartwarming story that I absolutely adored (and related to in many ways).

That's all! Happy beach/summer reading to the beat of your own drum!