May in review | getting older, good old NYC dilemma, and monthly recs
Whether you're a beautiful stranger or a human I know, I'm equally glad you're here. Now pour yourself a glass of your favorite liquid, sit down somewhere quiet and let's get started.
May was crazy. It’s always like this for my friends and family because, for some reason, at some point, most of us decided to be born in May. Specifically, in the second half of it. Even more specifically, in its very last week.
As a result, this beautiful month of spring is always as special as it is insane. With a ton of social gatherings, travel, celebrations, parties, calls and messages, and—my favorite—gifts purchasing followed by gifts wrapping followed by gifts giving and, finally, followed by gifts receiving.
If not for my love for May, I’d hate this month for how exhausting it is. But love prevails, and with my social batteries fully uncharged, I’m still happy it happened. And now I can’t wait to share what’s been on my mind lately.
So, without further ado, let’s dive right in. Head-first, of course. Because we’re reckless and cool and we’re not afraid of water.
Being back in New York City wasn’t what I thought it would be.
Ever since devastating wildfires hit LA in January, I’ve been on the weirdest journey in my relationships with where we chose to live. At first, when the fire was in full swing, I was just scared and heartbroken to see one of my favorite places on earth getting destroyed like that. Quickly and ruthlessly.
Then, when the fires were finally contained and we no longer spend most of our screen time on Watch Duty—an app where you could track the progress of fires and their containment in real time—I felt even more love and attachment to Los Angeles and California at large. I started to appreciate the beauty of our home even more so than I did before. But then something shifted in me and a dark feeling of doubt filled my thoughts.
Was it a good idea to choose to live in a place so prone to natural disasters? What if the fires come back? Of course they will, they always do. What if the big one (as in the earthquake) will happen really soon? What if with all the climate change this land will soon become completely uninhabitable? What about buying property? Will there even be insurance options for it in the years to come? Should we have stayed in New York City? Should we…come back?
I never admitted it to myself fully, let alone to anyone else, but I spent a couple months of spring toying with the idea of moving back to NYC. Not necessarily right now, but maybe in a year or two.
Before falling asleep, I would open Trulia or Zillow and browse apartment listings in my favorite parts of New York City, thinking of where would we live should we decide to move back and, painfully, how much a monthly rent in a really nice neighborhood would cost. I wasn’t seriously considering this, not yet, not to the point of even sharing these thoughts with my husband or my closest friends back in NYC, but the idea was with me.
So when we flew to NYC for a week in late May, I was almost certain the trip would make me realize I belonged there. That it was always meant to be, us coming back. After all, it was May, and in May, New York City is as beautiful as it gets (same is true for the city in October!). I thought I’d get mesmerized by the shining skyline, I’d feel butterflies in my stomach walking the streets of SoHo, I'd get goosebumps watching the sunset from a rooftop bar. And in one of those random beautiful moments, I’d stop and say: we should come back.
Long story short, that did not happen.
May in NYC was lovely, if only a bit rainy this year. I looked at the skyline in the blue hour, the city was giving in to the night, the last reflections of sunlight in the glass of skyscrapers getting replaced by the flickering lights. And it was mesmerizing, if only a bit overwhelming. Too much concrete, too many sounds, so little air to breathe. Walking around SoHo was nice, if only the streets were dirtier and messier than I remembered. And then there was the sunset at a rooftop bar, and it was everything you expect from NYC and more, and I was happy to be there and then, if only a little homesick.
“I don’t think I’ll ever want to live here again,” I told my husband while looking through the window of our friend’s apartment featuring stunning views of Manhattan at night. “I don’t think I can like it anymore, now when I know how different our lives can be.”
He smiled and made a sound that I took as a sign of relief. “Good to hear,” he said. “I mean, look at all these cars and concrete and parking lots and highways. There’s all you see, there’s nothing else.”
We spent an absolutely incredible week in the city we used to call home. No longer locals, we didn’t have to deal with any inconveniences life in NYC brings. We were only there for the highlights. The restaurants and the theater and the shopping and the lovely walks around the nicest neighborhoods. We spent time with friends and family. We celebrated birthdays and weddings and life itself. We had the creme de la creme of what New York City can offer, and yet I was so ridiculously happy to get back to LA.
Our first morning back home, jet-lagged and red-eyed, we went for an early morning walk around Venice and I smiled like an idiot. The smells of blooming trees, the coffee shops where barista knows your name and remembers exactly how you like your morning matcha, the familiarity of little streets filled with greenery and flowers, the salty fresh air, the blue sky, the surfers biking to the beach to catch that wave—we were home.
Ever since coming back, I no longer have doubts. I’ll always have my New York, and I will always say it’s one of the greatest places on earth to be a tourist in, but the city has lost its magic to me. I can no longer like a lifestyle you inevitable adapt, a person you inevitable become in a city like New York. My home is on the opposite coast, my ocean is Pacific, my time zone is PST, my inner compass will always point West, to California.
Getting older isn’t what I thought it would be.
I turned 33 years old a couple weeks ago. I’m a proper adult now. Wow.
I feel happy about my age. I feel confident telling people how old I am. And, frankly, I genuinely like the way I look at the moment.
A couple weeks before my birthday, during my therapy session, I said something I never thought I’d say in my right mind.
“I wouldn’t want to come back to my twenties,” I said so casually and matter-of-factly as if I were telling that of course I like ice cream or obviously Monday comes after Sunday.
And it’s funny how having said this, I had to do some reverse-engineering to figure out exactly why was I feeling this way. And so I did some thinking. Out loud, in the safe environment of a therapy session, with no censorship whatsoever. And now, as I’ve lived with this insight for a while, I feel comfortable sharing it here, too.
I wouldn’t want to come back to my twenties because today’s version of me is so much better in any ways. It’s not like my 25-year-old self was bad, of course not, but it’s just so much easier living in the body and headspace of who I am today.
In my early-to-mid twenties, I was an anxious wreck. I was a workaholic, too. I liked staying busy, being in a rush, feeling stressed out and tired and slightly hangover because that, so I believed, was the indicator of my life being full and important.
I didn’t yet know how damaging it was to listen to my inner critic’s voice as it was the ultimate source of truth. I didn’t know how to manage my emotions. I didn’t know myself well enough, and so I had no idea what behaviors and habits and patterns of thinking were depleting my energy and what I could possibly do to restore it.
I was hitting my max or trying to. I had some good achievements. There’s a lot I accomplished in my twenties that I’m genuinely proud of. And I know I wouldn’t be where I am and who I am today without the past I had.
And yet, I find a lot more joy living in my body and being in my headspace now than I did ten years ago. I’m a much calmer person. And on days when I’m not, I know exactly what to do (or not to do) in order to recalibrate. I have a much better body. I know how to feed it well, I know what kind of movement make me feel my best and look my hottest, I know that true self-care is a hot bath or sauna or massage and not a whole bar of chocolate or a bottle of wine or a bowl of pasta close to bedtime. And I also know that sometimes (just sometimes!) a bit of chocolate or a glass of my favorite red or some good old carbs in the evening is OK too. But I know those are treats, not self-care. I begin to realize how essential good night’s sleep is and try to prioritize it more often than not. And yet it doesn’t mean I can’t stay up till 2am when I the book is too good to put down. I can and I will. But as an exception rather than a rule. And it only makes it more special.
All this to say, I guess the best part about getting older is that you know yourself better, and so living this life gets a bit easier.
And it seems to be a perfect segue to the our next segment.
Idea of the month
It’s something I heard someone say on a podcast and it stuck with me. And I want you to give it some thought and, next time you turn a year older, don’t obsess over aging or time slipping away. Think of how lucky you are, really.
It is a privilege to get older.
Not everyone gets to experience being an adult. And how lucky we all are to celebrate another birthday, to complete another lap around the sun, to make another wish while blowing candles.
Monthly recs
To watch (a TV show)
My dearest friend Ira recommended this one to me. Not once, and maybe not even twice. But I was busy with my other commitments on HBO and Hulu and Apple TV and Paramount+, and so it’s been on my “to watch” list for a while.
And when I finally started watching it, I couldn’t stop. It’s only one season (for now!), but what a season it is. Two ballet theaters—one in NYC and one in Paris—agree to exchange their best dancers and choreographers for a season, for marketing reasons, just to fresh things up. And also because this is what the biggest investor wants.
And that’s when the beautiful mess and drama begins. It’s funny in a way only a mix of French and American humor can be. It’s passionate and intense as any story where main characters live for the art. It’s absolutely beautiful to watch because contemporary ballet is just something else.
Give it a watch and let me know your thought. I mean, really! Watch it and then DM me and tell me how you liked it. I need more people to discuss it with.
To watch (a movie)
“The Room Next Door” by Pedro Almodóvar
I watched this one on a plane. It was heartbreaking, but in the most constructive, life-affirming way. “The Room Next Door” is a story of two long-lost friends reconnecting after one of them learns about the other’s terminal illness. What comes next will surprise you. And that’s all I’m going to say. Except for the fact that every single scene in this movie is stunning and the main characters are played by Julianna Moore and Tilda Swinton, and those two will break your heart in million pieces.
To follow
If you follow me on Instagram, you know I’m low-key obsessed with every room in my home having fresh flowers. It t makes me so happy to go flower shopping every Friday morning and spend a couple hours arranging flowers into bouquets.
If you’re anything like me (or just like to watch florists put together insane bouquets), give this account a follow. The vibe of the videos is unmatched. And there’s so much inspiration there. I promise!
To listen to
Damiano David’s first solo album “Funny little fears”
Much like the rest of Måneskin’s fan base, I was heartbroken when Damiano David released his first song outside of the band. It wasn’t clear at the time, but rumors had it the lead singer left his fellow musicians to pursue a solo career in music (as in your favorite rock band is no more).
Fast forward to May 2025, I’m giving the first listen to Damiano’s first solo album. I like a few songs, but not too many. But then I go for a run and play the album again, and I continue listening to it while taking a shower after a run. And then when I move from bathroom to kitchen and start prepping a dinner. And before I know it, I am obsessed. I like most songs, nearly all of them. And I am no longer sad he left the band. If anything, I feel so proud and happy for the young artist to take a risk and leave the band when it was hitting its max. It takes a lot of courage to trade certain triumph here and now for possible but not guaranteed success in the future. Bravo!
If you’re not ready to listen to the entire album, start with “The First Time.” Lately, this song’s playing in my head even when the music isn’t on.
Wrapping it up
If you made it to this bit of the letter, you are one really dedicated reader. And for that I thank you. Unless, of course, you just scrolled to the end without reading, ha! Jokes aside, I’m so happy to share this cozy corner of the internet with you. I’ll be back in a month and I hope that you will, too.
Oh, and please don’t be shy. Screenshot a thought or idea that resonated with you this month and share it with your friends on social media. Let’s grow this little community of ours a little further! ♦
Omg I can’t believe we were so close to get you back as our neighbor ♥️🥹🥲 Anyway so happy you love that much the place you live in! And it’s always amazing to have family on the other very beautiful side of the country 😍