Something New

New column alert!

I started this for a guy. He was blonde and recently divorced, and it was 2022. I used my writing as an excuse for the wrong attention. I wrote about my dating life in real time while smirking at my computer with joy on late nights. I wanted the attention of many people I wrote about, like guy, so & so, him, that guy & the other one. I felt on top of the world when they read my writing, and like being hit by a bus when they called me names to their friends, didn’t notice me, got back together with their ex, and juggled dating two women and a beef-tallow-guzzling sister.

A few years and many dating stories later, I found myself having a hard time writing. I felt so close to all of my dreams coming true, but experienced extreme grief, friendships fell apart, and so much sadness around the world that I couldn’t find any words to express how I felt about what was going on.

I found a new hatred for New York. I let extreme jealousy get to me. I cried and cried and cried all the time, and I’d stay up late with my face glued to my computer and my fingers stuck to the keys, staring off into space, trying to find meaning in all of it. I rubbed up against strangers at protests and realized that if I froze or died, at least I would know in my heart that I tried to protect my loved ones and advocate for people around the world who had it way worse than me. I let days turn into months, and my pillow became the only place I could express myself.

I wasn’t doing anything except crying and complaining about everything. I couldn’t stand seeing friends have their birthdays and other momentous events and be excluded because I couldn’t get my act together. My eyes felt like glass, and I felt like I had no real friends, nothing to show for it, and left many texts unanswered because I thought I’d say the wrong thing and make it worse.

But through the exclusion of ‘friends’ and the uninspired writing ChatGPT helped me put together, I realized that you can’t escape the things that make you sad, but you can find happy things to counter them. And you can volunteer and donate your time. Or a listening ear. You can also remove yourself from aspects of your community that you hate, such as when they promote the wrong ideas about freedom and take the wrong side of history.

I spent almost all of 2025 in a state of grief. I read Kitchen Confidential twice and watched all of Law and Order. I argued with family members about politics and realized it’s more important to fight for peace than stand alone at a party questioning my worth.

And then, on a perfect weathered night, I thought of this idea for a new column. I was tired of hearing about the same people over and over again who added nothing to my life and tried to convince me to buy something. I realized I didn’t care about the musicians, tastemakers, and NYC elite that everyone else was writing about. Because who really cares about what yoga pants Megan Markle is wearing or trying every form of injectables? I realized it was not important information, and my brain was having a hard time shifting from disturbing infographics to influencer-sponsored content.

In all of that, I thought about how many people we are surrounded by who haven’t shared their stories yet, who are actually more interesting than someone with 10 million followers and a never-ending bank account. When you are a bitch everyone can tell.

And that’s when the idea for Portraits came along. A new newsletter about neighbors, loved ones, and inspiring people around the world with careers you often don’t know the details about, like a train conductor, a sugar sculptor, or a pharmacological scientist working with hallucinogenic properties to try and make people find more joy in life.

So I’m making the switch. This newsletter will no longer be about my silly little life, but the inspiring lives of others.

Please join me in welcoming Portraits into the world. Shouts and murmurs about people you’ve always wanted to know about. Like people who find themselves on cloud nine when repairing microscopes at universities or completing two years of clown school in a medieval French town.

Portraits will launch in a few days and be a continuous stream of essays throughout the year, once or twice a week. Now, more than ever, it’s time we band together. The world is better when we get to know our neighbors, because in doing so, we get to know ourselves, too.