Oh, the places you’ll go
For 364 days of the year, I cast a judgy eye at NYU students. I unfairly paint them all with the same brush, viewing them as the spoiled offspring of international oligarchs who treat New York City like a dilettante's playground—all take, no give.
Then there’s one day in May when all that goes out the window. I see a graduate wearing a purple gown trailed by parents who don’t look oligarch-y at all and are sheepishly trying to keep up with their child who has learned to walk at New York speed, and I turn into a sentimental mush. Even though I’m someone who rarely talks to strangers, I can’t resist saying, “Congratulations.” And I feel genuinely happy for the graduates and what they’ve accomplished and what they’re about to do.
What’s wrong with me? LOL.
I was thinking about this on Wednesday as I spied my first graduate of the day. I was returning from dropping my own 4th and 6th graders off at school, so I’m sure part of my mushiness was tied to realizing I would be that trailing parent soon enough (although hopefully I’ll be getting a better fit off). But I’ve felt that sense of joy for graduates since well before I had kids. My office used to be across the street from Radio City Music Hall, which hosted a lot of different graduations, and I remember lingering on 6th Avenue during those days taking it all in.
It might have to do with the fact that rarely in life do we recognize the moments that change everything in the moment. Graduations are an exception. They are a celebration of both what’s been accomplished and what is to come. And for the most part, people get that as it’s taking place.
There are plenty of graduation speeches on YouTube that sum up this idea better than I’m doing here. But I think what I’d want someone to take away from this piece is that while graduations are special, the reasons why they’re special don’t have to be special. (Did I just set a record for number of times using “special” in a sentence? That’s special.) If we make a concerted effort to be more present and recognize the importance of what’s happening in our lives when it’s happening (no matter how trivial or mundane it may seem at the time), we’ll be better equipped to live contentedly.
I had no idea that David Lynch directed commercials until reading this story on Highsnobiety, which talked about this 1993 Adidas ad for the Adidas Tubular sneaker. It is so weird in the most David Lynch way. I don’t know if I love the ad, but I love that it exists, and I love thinking about the Adidas executives' reactions when they first watched it.
Another weird interview channel. More specifically, another weird chicken-centric interview channel. Did we need this? Absolutely not. But I am still incredibly thankful the YouTube algorithm forced this very british, very funny chicken channel on me. I’ve only watched the Charli XCX (above) and Rosalía interviews so far, but Amelia is funny enough in both of those for me to recommend the entire channel. Maybe start with an artist you like, such as Finneas or Jack Harlow (🤮). Just wanted to get some Jack Harlow commentary in TBH.
I think Western Hydrodynamic Research makes some cool stuff. If I’m being honest, I really like the name. It has a great “Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” quality. I also like that it just isn’t that serious. Case in point: the campaign for their new collection, which just fully embraces the stock photo watermark instead of trying to make things look perfect.
No photos, no links, not even a real recipe! Today is my second Friday in a row using (mostly) veggies from my CSA to make a fat frittata. I was not a fan of these savory egg cakes for so long (too dry!) but I have seen the light. Look up a recipe if you want, but basically you just need to cook a bunch of veggies (spinach, mushrooms, potatoes, chard, arugula, whatever!!) with olive oil and set them aside to cool. Scramble 8 eggs in a bowl, add some parm and greek yogurt, scramble more. Combine with the veggies. Salt, pepper, red pepper flakes if you’d like. Then throw all of that in a hot, well-oiled pan until the bottom cooks nicely. Lift the cooked parts to let the runny parts under (you know that move). Then set it under the broiler to cook the top. Not too much, though. This is art, not science. You can always cook it more, but you can’t always convince someone that your overcooked frittata is an avoidable mistake and not how they all turn out.