Hi.
Work
The last day of my internship was last Friday. I wasn’t necessarily pumping out new features—just fixed a couple bugs, did some more user tests, and wrote my section of our paper submission to the Computation + Journalism symposium (which I’ll eventually link if it gets accepted).
My team did a lot of things to see me off. We went to a happy hour on Thursday night to a German restaurant called Cafe Mozart. There were very large beers, greasy potato pancakes, and pretzels. “Do you guys have final wisdom for me?” I asked. “What do you mean?” they replied. “Tell me how to be happy,” I said, only half-sarcastically.
They laughed. “Don’t be happy, just be content.”
On Friday, we got Jinya ramen for lunch. I’d been craving ramen all week, practically praying for rain so that it would be extra satisfying. As a rare occurrence, out of the 10 people who came to eat, not a single person forgot their umbrella, and I realized that when somebody forgets an umbrella and another person offers to share, it’s actually more convenient than trying to walk with two umbrellas bumping into each other. We looked very ridiculous. 10 of us, with 10 individual umbrellas, walking 10 minutes up 14th Street to lunch.
In the last 6 months, I’ve become much more of an adult. I say that cautiously, because every time I say I’m an adult, something comes along to make me feel like I don’t know anything at all (which makes me realize that maybe adults don’t actually know anything). Simon once told me that although your 20s are unstable, there’s a certain romanticized image of that instability that he sometimes misses. But finding joy in the monotony still seems important; it’s just another new challenge in life. Or maybe you can refuse the monotony? Is that possible? Idk.
These people took a chance on me, poured so much effort into helping me grow, yet somehow I feel like I can never properly show my gratitude or even fully explain it. Occasionally, it felt like I’d grown so fast, I was living in a dream—not necessarily because everything was perfect, but because I felt so far removed from my normal life. I thought that, at any minute, I would wake up back in Illinois, drowsy and immature and nestled in my shitty twin-sized dorm bed.
Life
Apart from my internship ending, I had Korean food twice and went to NYC for approximately eight hours.
My Airbnb host and I went out for dinner because he was leaving and wouldn’t be back before I move out. I ended up telling him about how I feel like I’m drifting from people back home, and am concerned about being single for 2 years now. This progressed into a long conversation about relationships. He’s in his 40s and unmarried, but dating someone, so it was interesting to get his perspective on what it means to be single and what he’s learned from breakups. “I spent 4 years single and heartbroken over one girl,” he said, “but my current relationship is the best so far.”
On the walk back to his house, he asked me if I thought free will exists. I said yes; he said no, because we’re all just a product of what we’re born into, no?
I shrugged and said I suppose. I later texted my philosophy major friend, who said:
“lol who the fuck knows
most people argue that the world is deterministic and that our psychologies are just the product of nature which is just the product of the world, so no
but then it seems arguably clear that I can just raise my hand out of my own volition, so yes”
well ok 🤷🏻♀️
I made plans a while back to see my friend Chloe in Hong Kong, but she evacuated because of the protests, so we made new plans in NYC, her home. My sister was coming to DC on Saturday night, and I didn’t want to show up late on Friday, so I just did a fuck it and booked a 7 am bus on Saturday and went for lunch at Jollibee, a viewing of Slave Play on Broadway which was very impactful but I can’t really summarize it well but you should totally see if you can make it to NYC between now and when it closes in early January, boba, and then dinner. After that whirlwind of 8 hours, I hopped on the 8 pm bus to DC.
Like many people, I have a weird fantasy relationship to New York. How could you not? But I grew up in a quiet place, and when I went back to DC with its quiet residential brownstones, I realized it wasn’t so bad, and I got a lot more confused about where I really want to be.
Play
This in-depth Eater piece on how definitions of authenticity have changed especially this year, but also throughout time. It goes both broadly and deeply because the author is very knowledgeable about both food and food media itself. I learned a lot from it! One point that I found very interesting:
“Authenticity is about aesthetics as much as anything else . . . In a 2019 report on Eater NY, Sara Kay found that when it came to restaurants serving European cuisine, Yelp reviewers associated authenticity with white tablecloths, elegance, and an overall positive dining experience. However, authenticity at non-European restaurants more often meant cheap food, dirty decor, and harried service. White people were allowed to be both authentic and upscale, while cuisine from people of color had to stay cheap and lowbrow to qualify.”
NYT: A look into Dobrusa, Moldova, a village of now only one person, Grisa Muntean. The article profiles him and the village. It’s so lonely but also so beautiful (maybe beautiful in a lonely way?). The photos on this one make my heart ache.
“The loneliness kills you,” Mr. Muntean, 65, said on a recent afternoon.
In celebration of my 8-hour trip to NYC, The Cut’s collection of New Yorkers’ favorite places in the city. It’s very specific and wistful in a way I stupidly adore: “I went on my first date with my now-husband in Washington Square Park. We sat in the same spot where I had sat with my roommate, on one of those stone benches on the south side of the park, facing the arch. We talked for hours, and I was really aware of all the couples who’d fallen in love in that park before me.”
Anyway. Enjoy this frank ocean remix.
Madison