5 things for friday
what it's like to be jewish in america right now. plus: what i do when i'm feeling down, an amazing thriller, the most perfect risotto recipe, and more
happy friday, friends!
this was a week in which i felt, if not entirely down in the dumps, like i was riding a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. a heated conversation in my DMs set my tuesday off a rocky start, a job opportunity i’d known was a big swing but had applied to anyway sent a rejection email, penny had a cold that warranted a vet visit (she is on the mend, thankfully!). whatever sunshine had embedded itself in my soul last week seemed to have evaporated. my general MO in times like this is to look for the glimmers: the small moments—however silly or inconsequential—that bring me joy. that meant buying this giant bunch of lilacs, even though i knew they’d only live a couple of days on my counter. it meant treating myself to an enormous ice cream cone from my favorite east village shop on the way to therapy on tuesday, because that DM conversation had rattled me and i felt only two scoops of cookie dough could bring me back to equilibrium. it meant baking peanut butter cookies yesterday just because i felt like it, because there is a rhythm and a serenity to mixing ingredients, to beating peanut butter into sugar; adding eggs, then vanilla, then flour and baking soda and salt, until you’ve got a beautiful, caramel-colored dough.
it is easy to feel like the world is only darkness. darkness overtakes our instagram feeds. it overtakes our news cycle. it threatens to overtake our minds and our bodies and our hearts. and understandably so. there is indeed a lot of darkness out there. but there is also light, if we know to look for it. i may have felt stormy on tuesday morning, as i tapped angrily on my phone screen, trying to convey to a stranger who i’ve no duty to convince that i am not, in fact, uneducated, or in need of a visit to a holocaust exhibit. but mother nature blessed me with pure, unadultered sunshine on my walk up towards therapy. the universe gave me extra sprinkles on my cone.
i may feel untethered this week, a week in which i’ve made zero tangible progress on the job opportunity front, a week in which i’ve received rejections instead of offers. but that doesn’t mean that an offer won’t come. it doesn’t mean offers haven’t come—there have been others, offers i’ve turned down because they haven’t felt right. nor does it mean that i’ve made zero tangible progress on the other big project of my life right now: the fact that, despite not having an agent, despite not having a book deal, despite not knowing if i’ll ever have either one of those things, i’ve kept plodding away at my second novel, dedicating my time and my brain power to it with a vengeance. this week, i crossed the 60k word mark, rounding the bend toward the final portion of my story. it is, for now, progress for me and for me only—but it is real, tangible progress nonetheless.
i think the thing has been the hardest for me over the past few months has been attempting to unlearn the mindset i’ve adopted as a doer. some days, it feels like i could live in limbo forever, learn to embrace the slowness i’ve come to realize i don’t, in fact, hate as much as i thought i did. other days, i feel this unrelenting, insatiable pressure to have something to show for my time away from corporate america. this need to prove that even without a 9-5 job, even without any true employment at all, i am still doing things. i am constantly bucking against my own internal belief that i am only worthy if i am doing, and so therefore, i must do. at all times. with a vengeance.
yesterday, a friend texted me a link to career day his school (he’s a high school spanish teacher) is doing next week for their students. he asked if i might like to participate. i said yes immediately, because of course, that sounds wonderful and enjoyable and fun! and then i said, “but do you still want me if i’m not currently employed?” because there was this little voice in my head that said, well, you can’t talk about a job you’re not currently doing. you’re not a creative director if you’re not actively working as one. you’re not someone who works in advertising if you’re not currently working. i don’t know about you, but the little voices in my head? they are mean. it is work, real, hard, vital work, to push against them.
the friend wrote back a few minutes later. doesn’t matter that you’re unemployed - you’ll talk about your career / most recent position
because OF COURSE IT DOESN’T. just because i am currently taking a break from the career i love—a break i chose, with my own sound mind and body and soul!—doesn’t mean that i no longer have said career. taking a pause doesn’t erase the nearly 15 years of work i did to get to where i am. but try and tell that to the mean little voice in my head. because that voice: it wants me to be a doer. at all costs.
in some strange, twisted way, writing this out makes me proud of myself. because somewhere, deep, deep down, there was another little voice. one that was smaller, and perhaps more afraid, but one that was brave, too. brave enough to stand up to that mean voice. to say, no, not at all costs. one that believed there could be something better out there. even if it hurt to leave. even if it took a while to get to the other side. even if it was imperfect, or rocky, or painful. one that believer that even doers deserve rest.
and so, here i am. another week gone by, another week in which i ride the rollercoaster of the little voices, and the inner pressure to do, and stretch, and achieve. another week in which i try and silence the mean voices, and embolden the kind ones. another week in which i commit to my sanity, to my health, to the work that brings me pure, unadulterated joy. of the work that makes my brain feel like a live wire, hot and buzzy and excited. there may never be external validation for that work. i may end up taking a job i’m just okay with, rather than over the moon about. but i will know, deep down, that i listened to that voice. the voice that said, no, not at all costs.
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and now for our 5 things!
after i shared screenshots about a frustrating conversation i had on instagram, a friend sent me a link to this episode of code switch, and thank god she did (thank you, jess!). sometimes, you just need someone else to say the thing you’re trying to say, but cannot seem to put into words. this episode did that for me, perfectly and acutely detailing what it feels like to be an american jew in the current climate. i have long considered myself someone who tries to do the ‘right’ thing—to live in accordance with my values, as best i can—but this conflict has presented a climate in which i feel i cannot do anything right. if i say i’m pro-ceasefire, i’m a bad jew who doesn’t understand the history or the impact of the holocaust. if i say i believe in the right of the jewish people to have a place where they feel safe (considering that no such place has ever existed outside of israel), i am a colonizing asshole. i’m generalizing, obviously. but that is how it feels. like there is no right way. like no matter which way i choose, or which thing i say, i’m doing it wrong.
i feel horrified by the rise in anti-semitism here in the US, have walked by swastikas painted onto buildings in my very own neighborhood. i cannot imagine—truly, cannot imagine—what it is like to have family in israel right now, or even worse, to have a family member being held hostage by hamas. but as someone who has actually read and studied quite a bit of holocaust literature/content (arguably maybe even too much?!), i also cannot fathom feeling like “our” pain gives us the right to perpetrate similar crimes in gaza. to me, never again isn’t reserved for jews. it is for any minority group who has been made to feel like their lives are less than. never again, to me, means never again for anyone. and while i do not conflate the israeli government, nor the israeli military, with all israeli people or all jews (this is something i have heard a lot of people, including folks i would consider friends, doing), i also cannot and will not condone it. i can’t stand by and watch a people be herded into smaller and smaller spaces (scarily similar to the ghettos of WWII), then bombed into oblivion.
i have to believe there’s another way. i don’t have the answer, especially not for a problem this complicated. i don’t know what you do when a place is a holy land not just for one people, but for many. but this violence? it is not it. as i said to my friend hannah, who texted me on tuesday night to tell me she was “proud of me for standing up for what i believe,” i wish more people would acknowledge how painful it is to be a jew in this climate. my saying that statement does not negate how painful it is to be palestinian—it is not a contest, but if it were, i’d argue they have it worse—but rather, serves to remind the folks who may have lumped all jews into the ‘bad’ category that this is not a black and white, easy issue for all of us. it is not that for many (if not most!) of us.
if you can, i’d take the time to listen to this episode. it’s powerful, and likely does a better job of explaining my feelings than i have above. it is a window into how fraught these conversations are, and a reminder that nothing is simple.
olivia muenter is going to be an upcoming interviewee here in the newsletter, and since i’m planning to focus my questions on the topic of what it’s like to be a debut author (!!), she kindly offered to send me an ARC (advanced reader copy) of her book, such a bad influence, which comes out in june (preorder it here!). baby’s first ARC! how exciting. really, though, i was thrilled to receive an advance copy of olivia’s book, which she calls SABI (which, fun fact, is the name of a character in the book itself). i love a thriller, but i love a smart thriller more than anything, and SABI delivers on that. in droves. i’m not surprised, because olivia’s writing is both razor sharp and insanely beautiful, but man, what a treat to see someone whose writing you’ve long admired come to life in long-form.
SABI is the story of two sisters. hazel, who’s drifting in the way so many folks in their late twenties do, and evie, a child of the social media era who’s grown into a mega-popular, lifestyle influencer with a multi-million dollar career. when evie disappears, hazel is forced to confront her complicated relationship with her mother, the lies she’s been telling others—and herself—and her long-held perception that she knows evie better than anyone. it is a wild, twisty ride, and i straight up gasped at the ending.
ps: i was honored to be featured as part of olivia’s DESK TOUR series last friday! you can read my interview here, or at the link below.
pps: if you’re a big reader, follow me on goodreads! i try and rank/save every book i read (and i read about 50-60 a year!)
has anyone else started sugar on apple tv? it stars a deliriously handsome colin farrell as john sugar, a private investigator who specializes in missing persons cases, and who has been tapped to find the beloved granddaughter of hollywood producer jonathan siegel. as he digs into the case, sugar unearths a bevy of family secrets, and it soon becomes clear that there’s someone—if not quite a few someones—who do not want those secrets to get out. who will do just about anything to ensure those secrets do not get out. an homage to the private detective stories of the golden age of film, sugar intersperses fast-paced, suspenseful storytelling with old hollywood-style black and white crime procedural footage. the result is something that feels at once modern and classic. the only gripe i have with it is that there’s a lot of voiceover from sugar to the viewers. he’s not breaking the fourth wall (thank god, i despise that!), but he is narrating his story, which isn’t really my favorite. it’s the old show, don’t tell thing—while i appreciate the timbre of farrell’s voice, the narration takes me out of the story.
if you liked ripley, or the lincoln lawyer, or you like crime shows in general, this one’s for you!
things are starting to get reallllly good at the farmer’s market, which means it’s finally—finally!—real spring here in new york. it also means we’re knee deep in peak asparagus season. leek season, too! i took this as a sign to whip up some seriously good risotto earlier this week. i topped mine with sautéed scallops, but shrimp or grilled chicken would also be nice. you could also just serve it veggie and throw up the middle finger to protein, which i myself do more often than not. anywho! it was delicious, and so i thought i’d share it with you! before we dive in, i need you to know that for me, risotto is more of a guestimate game than a precise measurement one. as in, i’m going to be guessing at some of the measurements below, because i’ve been making risotto from memory for years and therefore don’t have anything written down. it’s honestly quite easy, so long as you’re patient! but if you’d like a TRUE lesson, take it from martha.
what you’ll need:
1 cup short grain rice. you should use arborio, traditionally, but i only had jasmine and it worked just fine!
5ish cups (a medium saucepan full, in my mind) of chicken stock. you can use water, or half water and half stock, or use bouillon cubes (that’s what i had at home!)
2-3 large leeks, thinly sliced. if you don’t have leeks, you can use 1/2 medium white onion, chopped.
1-2 tsbp olive oil
1/2 cup dry white wine, for deglazing the pan
1 cup finely grated parm (don’t skimp on the quality here, get the good stuff!)
1 small bunch of asparagus. trim the ends then cut into bite-size pieces
1 medium zucchini, cut into bite-sized pieces
basil (optional) for topping. italian flat-leaf parsley might also be nice here!
what you’ll do:
heat the stock in a medium saucepan (or make it from cubes). once it boils, bring it down to low. you just want to keep it warm, but you don’t want or need it to be bubbling.
in a large pot (you could use a staub dutch-oven style one, or a big deep skillet; i use this one), heat 1 tbsp olive oil, then toss in half of your sliced leeks and cook on medium until translucent and fragrant, about 2 minutes. you don’t want them to burn, so keep an eye out!
add in your diced veggies (asparagus and zucchini!), and toss to coat. if you need a bit more oil, drizzle it in. season with a sprinkling of sea salt and a few cracks of pepper, and saute until your veggies are al dente. you want them to be cooked, but still a fresh, bright green.
tip everything that’s in your skillet into a bowl, and set aside. you’ll put the veggies back into the risotto later.
add another tbsp of olive oil into the pan, along with the remainder of your leeks. repeat the step above—medium heat, translucent, etc.
next, add your cup of rice, and stir to coat in the oil/mix in with the leek. cook for another 1-2 minutes, until the rice is just starting to be translucent.
as soon as you see translucent rice, deglaze the pan with your white wine. if you don’t drink, you can use stock to do this part, but the heat burns off the alcohol! let the rice cook in the wine, stirring every so often. once the wine has nearly fully cooked in, you’ll start the fun part: adding the stock little by little.
using a measuring cup, add 1/2 cup of hot stock to the rice. stir constantly with a wooden spoon, until about 3/4 of the liquid is absorbed. repeat this process, 1/2 cup of stock at a time, until the rice begins to take on a creamy quality. for me, this is usually about 20 minutes. risotto is not hard, but it is hands (or eyes!) on. you have to keep an eye on it. you don’t ever want the liquid to fully evaporate, but rather, to add more liquid before that happens. you’re essentially slow-cooking the rice in the stock.
as the rice nears doneness (al dente but not crunch, creamy vibes), add your veggies + leeks mixture back in. stir to cook for another 2 or so minutes, then add your 1 cup of grated parm, little by little, into the risotto. this is what will take it to the next level—we’re talking pure creamy, cheesy goodness. season to taste with salt and pepper. maybe a squeeze of lemon if you’re feeling fancy!
serve immediately, then top with fresh herbs and the protein of your choice. i like basil, and scallops, but you do you.
this week brought new yorkers not one but two days that felt like straight up summer. sunny, muggy, air so thick you could slice it weather. which meant that this week, i broke out all the linen. the easy breezy material has been very much en vogue over the past few years, and i’ve slowly built up quite a collection of pieces. the newest of which came courtesy of my partnership with quince, a brand who has kindly gifted me a series of seasonal pieces (of my choosing!) in exchange for my sharing them on instagram.* i choose a selection of home products, including new bamboo sheets (verdict thus far is that I LOVE THEM) and a new linen quilt set, along with the PERFECT cashmere boyfriend sweater (this one, in oatmeal) and the dress you see above, which is in a color quince calls “chocolate” and which MIGHT just be my new favorite thing in my closet. it’s at once form fitting but loose, comfortable but chic, breezy but put-together. i snapped the not-so-great photo above to send to a kind gentleman i’ve been chatting with over the past few weeks (that’s all i’ll say about that for now!); you can see a much better product photo below. i’m in a size L; the back stretches to accommodate larger chests (bless!).
*ps: a peek behind the proverbial curtain, because i myself am always curious when the roles are reversed. quince is not paying me to create any content for them, but i do receive a small commission if you order from their site using my link. if i’ve influenced you to buy from quince, i’d love if you’d do just that—purchasing via my link shows the brand that my “influence” translates to sales, which could lead to paid partnership opportunities in the future. it’s at no extra cost to you, but does show them that i’m worth the squeeze.
and that, friends, is where i leave you. if you like this post, it would mean the world to me if you’d hit the little heart icon, as well as consider sharing it with your network—so that the grand weekly can be seen by more people.
I love what you shared about being a "do-er" and struggling with your identity without a "job". What you've done for yourself is so much more powerful than just accepting the offer that comes your way. You're actively choosing yourself and prioritizing soul-fulfilling actions, which takes time to unravel and re-learn.
That Quince dress is phenomenal. (I have four colors).
And also, thank you for sharing where you’re currently at with such eloquence and thoughtfulness.