clearing my twitter-addled mind

This weekend was my birthday, so Renan and I took a trip up to the Hudson Valley just a couple hours outside of New York City, and spent a few days in a little Airbnb on the river. We drove, having recently purchased a used car, and it was my first time leaving New York City since the first week of March — nearly four months in which I stayed largely within a one mile radius of my Brooklyn apartment.

In the Before Times, I used to travel at least a couple times a month, whether for work or for weddings or trips with friends. I went from being the type of person who always kept her suitcase half-packed for the next trip, to having to dig my suitcase out from the back of my closet where it had been collecting dust. Also in the Before Times, the idea of “vacation” to me meant getting on a plane and going somewhere far, far away; putting a lot of distance between me and my everyday life was the only real way to clear my head, I thought.

I stayed in NYC throughout the entire lockdown period; it really didn’t even seem like a question to me of whether I would stay or go. After seven years here, New York feels more like my home than anywhere else, and there was no natural place that would make sense to “escape” to. And at times, staying here was nice: I felt like a part of the community; I supported local businesses in my neighborhood, cheered on my rooftop at 7pm with everyone else, baked bread and grew scallions and did Zoom workouts while we waited months for the case numbers to come down. As we watch case numbers go up in many other states around the country, it feels like New York is now the safest place to be.

But as much as I love Brooklyn, it was also really nice to leave; and though we still can’t fly or really travel anywhere, we could at least drive a couple hours away and get a change of scenery within our own state. (I realize I am immensely privileged to even afford to get away for a few days.) I brought my laptop but ended up never opening it. I took a break from Twitter (highly recommend) and didn’t read the news for a couple days.

Instead, I sat on our deck by the river and read books, did yoga outside, went hiking, visited nearby wineries, and made dinner on the grill every night. All of these things were small joys that felt impossibly far-off just a few months ago, and I felt especially grateful to be able to enjoy these things now after being on lockdown for so many months. It felt like a real reset, a way to clear my Twitter-addled mind for a few days. If you can find a brief escape, I can’t recommend it enough.

What I’m reading

The end of the girlboss is here, Gen/Medium.

Food media must work harder to solve its racism problem, Grub Street.

The “grateful to be here” generation has some apologizing to do, Refinery29.

Where did my ambition go?, Gen/Medium.

What America asks of working parents is impossible, The Atlantic.

I’ll never be able to cook the bad news away. But I try anyway, Bon Appetit.

What is owed, New York Times Magazine.

The internet, mon amour, 1843.

CSAs for the One Percent, Eater.

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