About a month ago, I was sitting in a tiny airport with three hours left before boarding, feeling sorry for myself. I had gotten a terrible cold mid-trip. The person next to me had YouTube blasting without headphones. The row behind me had a leg-shaker, and I mean a very committed one, the kind where the whole bench shakes. I had just eaten a panini that had really, truly let me down, even under airport standards.

I was doomscrolling when an Atlantic article crossed my feed. The caption read: “The simple fact that we are here, conscious and aware, is so unlikely that it borders on the miraculous. Because we experience that miracle every day, we treat it as ordinary, even guaranteed, mostly unnoticed at all.”

I saved it immediately, along with the approximately one thousand other “smart” articles I save and never read.

Then the YouTube guy paused his video to take a phone call. Without headphones, of course. And something in me just gave up the fight. I opened the article.

It’s by Alan Lightman, a physicist and novelist, and it moved me in the best way possible. He writes about the odds of you being born as exactly the person you are today, this specific combination of DNA, this specific consciousness, this specific person sitting in this specific plastic chair next to this specific inconsiderate stranger. He puts it like this: if you placed a ruler stretching from Earth to Pluto, one inch of that distance would be you. The rest would be all the other human beings that could have existed from that same moment of conception, but never did.

I had to put my phone down.

Not in a zen way. More in a “I need a minute, and also I think I need to call my mom” way.

Because here’s what got to me: we spend so much of our lives moving through our days on autopilot. Worrying about deadlines, eating disappointing paninis, silently fuming at strangers on their phones. And somewhere underneath all of that, completely unnoticed, is the fact that we are here at all. That out of a hundred thousand billion possible human beings that could have existed from any single moment of conception, we are the ones that made it. We won a lottery we didn’t even know we’d entered.

We are all improbable miracles, annoying each other in airports.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot since. How easy it is to postpone joy, assuming there will always be more time. How rarely we stop to notice life itself. And how sometimes it takes a YouTube guy without headphones and a truly bad panini to crack us open enough to remember.

When did you last stop and actually feel lucky to be alive? Not in a big dramatic way. Just a moment where it hit you.

–Isa

What came out of this conversation was something I hadn’t quite named before: for the past few years, I’ve simply been waiting. Not for anything specific—just for confirmation that the choice I’m about to make is the right one. And because that confirmation never comes, I don’t choose at all. I just wait, and I tell myself I’ll know when I’m ready. That when x, y, or z happens, the gut feeling will become so overwhelming that I’ll just know. Or better yet, someone will just tell me what to do.

The story I’ve told myself since I can remember goes like this: 1+1=2, right? So if I am a good person, if I work hard, if I make responsible decisions, if I move through the world leading with a moral compass, if I have a happy family and a loving marriage—then all of those things should add up. They should equal happiness, confidence, clarity, conviction, safety. They should equal knowing which door to walk through next.

The confusing part—the part that’s been quietly unsettling me—is that all the inputs are right. I’ve checked them. And somehow the output still doesn’t match. I still find myself standing in front of decisions, big and small, completely paralyzed. The equation should work. So why doesn’t it feel like it is?

What I’m slowly realizing is that I haven’t just been waiting for the right answer. I’ve been waiting for confirmation of the right answer. For someone—a therapist, a friend, the universe, a perfectly timed sign—to lean over and say: yes, that one. That’s the door. Open it. And because no one does that (because no one can ever do that), I just… wait. Telling myself I’ll know when I’m ready.

My therapist pointed out, gently, that this is incredibly common—that most people with perfectionist tendencies do some version of this. And I nodded like I understood, while a small part of me thought: but surely my version is a little more complicated and paralyzing, no?

Which is, of course, also black-and-white thinking. Either I’m uniquely broken, or I’m boringly ordinary. No gray in that thought either.

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I hadn’t connected that pattern to my daily life until this weekend, when I came home to find my husband David on our patio, sketching. Just —sketching. Trying things out, making marks, not particularly worried about what was coming out of it.

I stood there watching him for a moment, and I felt something I can only describe as longing.

Not for the sketching itself. For the way of being that the sketching represented. That ease of doing something just to do it. That optimistic naivety about the outcome — or maybe not naivety at all, maybe just freedom. The freedom to begin without knowing where you’ll end up, and to be genuinely okay with that. He wasn’t making it a big deal. That was the thing. He was just in the moment.

I think about how much of my life I've spent making it a big deal. I make every choice feel heavier than it needs to be. I scan every direction for risk before I've even decided to move. In that moment, watching him, I felt the distance between his way of being and mine—not as a judgment, just as a fact. I wonder sometimes what it would feel like to just pick up the pencil. What that freedom would actually feel like.

That image of him stayed with me through the rest of the session. Because what my therapist said next reframed everything: the need for certainty before acting isn’t really about being careful or thorough or responsible. It’s an illusion of safety. A convincing one, but an illusion nonetheless.

The gray area, I’m learning, is not a waiting room.

I’ve been treating it like one—like if I sit in it long enough, patiently enough, with enough self-reflection and journaling and therapy and good intentions, eventually a number will be called and someone will wave me into the room where the answers live. But the gray area is not the thing you pass through to get to clarity. It is the clarity. Or at least, the most honest version of it. Life doesn’t resolve into clean lines the way I want it to. Nobody gets the confirmation. Everyone is just choosing, and then living with what they chose, and then choosing again.

I find that both terrifying and, on my best days, a little freeing.

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I’ve been curious lately about why the human mind does this at all—why so many of us default to black-and-white thinking in the first place. There’s something almost primal about it, this desire to sort the world into safe and unsafe, right and wrong, good decision and bad decision. Ambiguity is uncomfortable because it can’t be solved, only inhabited.

And I think for people like me, who have built a lot of identity around doing things well, ambiguity feels like a particular kind of threat. If I can’t know in advance whether something is the right choice, then I might make the wrong one. And if I make the wrong one—in front of myself, in front of others—then what does that say about me?

Maybe that’s where the waiting comes from. Not laziness or fear exactly, but something closer to: I’d rather wait than walk into the wrong room.

Except you can’t wait forever. At some point, the waiting is the wrong choice.

An yet again, I don’t have a resolution to offer here. I’m genuinely in the middle of this one—turning it over, sitting with it, occasionally arguing with it at 2am.

But I think something shifted for me yesterday. Not solved. Just shifted. The way furniture does when you move it a few inches—the room is the same, but there’s more light getting through somewhere.

Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe that’s actually what moving through things looks like—not a sudden revelation but a slow rearranging, done without guarantees, in the gray.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

–Isa

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I’ve been trying to pay closer attention to what actually makes my days nicer. Attention is strange like that…what you look for truly expands (the red car theory is very real). So I’ve started keeping a small inventory in my Notes app of the things—big, tiny, chaotic, silly, or surprisingly deep—that make my days sweeter. Here’s the first one. I’m calling it “A Brief Inventory of Delights.”

Take what you like, borrow anything that resonates and use this as an open invitation to notice your own delights.

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A Brief Inventory of Delights:

1. The perfect journaling pen.

My friend Patricia got it for me after her partner went down a Reddit rabbit hole to find “the perfect journaling pen.” And boy, he really did. It is perfection, doesn’t smudge, dries instantly, and glides in a way that makes me feel way more articulate than I actually am. Don’t thank me. Thank Patricia & Dustin.

2. A summer virtual tour of Monet’s house and gardens.

I came across photos of Monet’s home in France and audibly gasped. The colors. The garden. The light. I discovered there’s a virtual tour and wandered through Giverny in seconds, peeking into every nook and cranny. Not a substitute for the real thing, obviously. But a very good Tuesday escape.

3. A running list of satisfying things.

In the world of making yet more lists, I’ve also started one dedicated entirely to satisfying moments. Current entries include:

Proof that competence comes in strange forms ;)

4. Softer Shift’s 7-day journaling practice.

I’ve been moving through this gentle daily practice called Softer Shift—each day offers something to reflect on, something to practice, and a perspective to shift. It’s felt especially helpful as I close out this year ahead of the Lunar New Year, while feeling more tender than I care to admit. What I’ve learned each day is that there’s something powerful about growth and change that doesn’t feel aggressive or forced, but instead peaceful and calm.

5. The “Begin Anywhere” print by Ed Ruscha.

This print is framed in my therapist’s office, and even though I see it every week, it still hits every time.

6. An evening at Francis Gallery celebrating the Lunar New Year.

I attended Will Calver’s installation, 28 Moons, and participated in a guided journaling ritual accompanied by thoughtful prompts and a beautiful Mary Oliver quote. It felt intimate and expansive at the same time. What my friend Rosa has created with Francis is truly special, and it shows in evenings like this <3

7. A photography book of Lee Miller’s work.

My friends Sunny and Scott gifted me this beautiful book of her work, and her range shocked me. A really unique photographer and visionary.

And lastly, in the spirit of paying attention, a few thoughts to leave you with:

• What would make it onto your delight inventory this week?

• What’s been surprisingly satisfying?

• What are you choosing to see more of?

• What’s been better than expected?

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As always, thank you for reading.

Until next time!

–Isa

I’ve been in a tender place since the very beginning of it. Usually, the first week of January comes with all the clichés about riding the wave of momentum to try to become everything you’ve always wanted to be. This year felt different.

I mostly slept the first week because I got sick, and the second one I decided to continue resting, recover, and just read. I haven’t had a real reading habit since I was 17, when I binged every YA book I could get my hands on. This year, maybe because of the lack of clarity and the non-existent goal setting I usually force myself into around this time (obviously a different story if I actually accomplish those goals throughout the year), I finally rebelled and decided to let go of expectations and simply read for an entire week—while my body was sick and not letting me leave the bed.

Instead of resisting rest, I embraced it. I finally gave in to being sick: wearing pajamas all day, doing nothing, and not fighting it.

Well, and I read four books in two weeks.

For the first time in years, I was meeting my hunger to be moved and to learn something new, while also committing to getting through each book, word after word, page after page. All very different—some deep literary pieces, others simple beach reads—but all of them helped me reconnect with a part of myself I hadn’t visited in a while.

Reading doesn’t care if I’m impressive. It just asks me to pay attention. There’s no way to optimize it, no performance attached to it when it’s just me and the page. Maybe that’s why it felt so clarifying.

I told my therapist how much I wanted to focus on making people feel the way these books made me feel: seen, moved, understood.

She met my very earnest, slightly self-centered, somewhat bleak, one-dimensional idea with a simple rebuttal: “What if you didn’t think about the audience at all and instead created truly for yourself?”

If you’ve read some of my other pieces, you know how stuck I am on this idea—doing things for yourself, not getting lost in the performative, exploring what feels real and meaningful to you and no one else. And yet, here I was again, thinking I had found the seed of clarity, only to realize I was still chasing validation.

What would it actually mean to shift from “I want to do work that moves others” to work that simply moves me? Not as a means to anything else, just as an end in itself?

This isn’t a new idea. Most of the things I care about have started with truly connecting with myself. But they change faster than I want to admit and get diluted by my deeply rooted wound of trying to solve insecurities and fears with praise from others. I think this might be a battle I’ll always have to work on, but I’m committed to showing up for it, day by day.

One other thing she said has stayed with me—something called the Paradoxical Theory of Change. The idea is that real change doesn’t happen through fixing or rejecting parts of yourself, but through fully accepting all of them exactly as they are. Even the ones you label as “bad,” or embarrassing, or inconvenient. Especially those. You don’t become who you want to be by fighting who you are. You become it by first letting yourself be it completely.

I keep writing about this—authenticity, performance, doing things for myself. I worry sometimes that I’m stuck on repeat. But maybe the repetition is the point. Maybe I have to keep coming back to it because I keep forgetting. Or because each time I think I’ve figured it out, I’m already halfway back to performing the having-figured-it-out.

I don’t think I fully know how to do that yet. But I’m trying to notice when my inner response is resistant instead of curious—when I’m at war with myself instead of listening. And maybe this space is part of that practice, too—letting those parts exist, without needing to turn them into something impressive.

This Substack, this space, and all of you who choose to read it are a true gift. And still, I want to keep returning to this as the truest version of myself possible. I’ll try not to edit myself as an automatic response. I’m committed to slowly letting others see who I really am—while I’m still figuring that out.

So maybe this is just a small recommitment. To keep exploring my thoughts here. For me, myself, and I. While also enjoying connecting with others about it. It’s a balance, ok?!

And now, after reading all this, maybe you’re thinking to yourself, “Okay, good for you, Isa! More power to you”, but you’re also curious about your own relationship with creating for yourself versus for others, so here are a few prompts to sit with. No right answers, just gentle curiosity.

• When you imagine doing something creative with zero audience—not even one person watching—what changes? What stays the same?

• If praise and criticism both disappeared tomorrow, what would you keep doing?

• What did you love doing before you understood what “being good at it” meant?

• What’s one thing you’re curious about right now that has nothing to do with who you’re supposed to be?

• If you could learn something slowly, with no deadline or outcome attached, what would it be?

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My Favorites Lately:

• Read: “Heart The Lover” by Lily King and “I Who Have Never Known Men” by Jacqueline Harpman. I know, I know—everyone and their mother is reading these right now. But they’re genuinely worth the hype, and pairing them back-to-back was exactly what I needed. (Turns out sometimes the algorithm gets it right, even if that feels like admitting defeat.)

• Watched: “Hamnet”, my favorite movie of the season. I went alone and sobbed the entire drive home. The idea of experiencing loss and feeling that unimaginable pain while also recognizing the beauty and gratitude of having felt that love in the first place—that’s what stayed with me.

• Listening to: Maisie Peters’ “Say My Name in Your Sleep”

• Eating at: “Daichan” in Studio City. The curry udon is to die for.

• Saved: This TikTok titled “It’s never too late to start over.” It’s been on my mind so much lately, especially after watching “Is This Thing On?”, which touches on similar ideas (highly recommend).

• Wrote: Wedding advice for The Wed! Such a fun excuse to reminisce and look back at wedding pictures. Read it here.

• Geeking over: My favorite Christmas gift from my sister (obviously!)—a film magazine called “Little White Lies”.

• Flipping through: This Imogen Cunningham book I got for my husband last week. Her work is unbelievable. It was so incredible to see her range beyond the flower photography she’s known for (which is still my favorite, of course).

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  Until next time!

  –Isa

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I used to be like that. I had a massive Backstreet Boys poster above my bed, a black-and-white shirtless model from an Armani Acqua di Gio ad taped unevenly to the closet door, and a corkboard covered in ticket stubs: Simple Plan, Shakira, The Killers, Britney (obviously), and Moenia (iykyk). The chaos was full of life, messy and loud, and exactly what it should be at that time of my life.

And now…my adult bedroom? Two recently hung family photos in frames that are falling apart, which David surprised me by putting up, and for months, I’ve been quietly thinking I need to swap the frames so they feel cuter. One painting. Blank walls. It’s a space that looks understood from the outside but under-expressed from the inside.

The rest of our house, I love—many pieces hold a memory, a story. But I’m realizing how much control I place on cohesiveness, on aesthetic “rightness,” on how the room will translate in a photo (ugh, hate to admit this). And it makes me wonder: When did we stop decorating from the inside out?

I’ve always believed our homes should feel like living archives of our experiences, travels, obsessions, and the strange little things that make us us. But somewhere along the way, I started editing myself. Curating instead of expressing. Matching instead of revealing myself.

When I was talking to my sister about all this, she mentioned an article called “When Did Everything Become So ‘Intentional’?” It points out how that word—intentional—has become so common in how we approach life: dating, wellness routines, social events, even brands. Being “intentional” suggests purpose, control, and mindfulness, but the article makes a great point — it can also make life feel rigid, performative, or overly curated.

And I realized…that mindset easily creeps into our homes too. Suddenly, every corner, every object, has to “fit the vision” or feel purposeful. Even things meant to bring joy are judged against some ideal of cohesion or aesthetic.

I don’t think “intentional” is a bad word or the wrong mindset to have, but it did make me wonder where I’ve become too intentional in ways that limit me. Maybe I need to loosen up, have more fun, and remember that not everything has to be so serious and carry so much weight.

Somewhere along the way, we started editing ourselves, treating our spaces like high-stakes productions. But really, you can allow yourself to be a little kitschy, a little playful. We’re layered people, why shouldn’t our spaces be too? They don’t have to be one-note or “perfectly curated.” If you want to display that Byredo perfume next to your Taylor Swift candle, go for it. Showing all the different parts of what you love only makes a space feel more human, more interesting, and unmistakably ours.

Maybe our spaces should have room for spontaneity, for things that just exist because they make us happy. That Backstreet Boys poster at fourteen? That corkboard of messy ticket stubs? Those spaces weren’t curated to impress anyone—they were alive, chaotic, unmistakably us.

So here’s what I want to remind myself—and maybe you too: put up the things that matter to you. A photo of your family, a souvenir from a trip, a ticket stub—whatever makes you pause and remember. It doesn’t have to match, fit a palette, or look “curated.” These little pieces are how your life shows up in a space. They’re the signs that someone lives here, that someone cared enough to notice, collect, and remember. They make the room feel like yours, created from the inside out rather than just something that looks understood from the outside.

‘Favorites’ Lately:

• Listening to – Lily Allen’s new album called “West End Girl”. After obsessively replaying it, I can now confirm I know every lyric by heart. I love going on the rollercoaster of a journey she takes us on.

• Reading – The Untethered Soul by Michael A Singer. I’ll do a Substack deep dive on this soon, but please do yourself a favor and read it. It’s pretty life-changing.

• Moved by – Emily Fishman’s “How It Feels“ Substack. Her ability to distill these super-specific yet universal feelings is really special. I feel so seen and inspired by her. She does it so creatively, with incredibly funny yet profound illustrations.

• Planning – To make the entirety of these toast recipes ASAP. I’m in desperate need of breakfast inspo, and even though these aren’t exactly groundbreaking, adding a tiny bit of creativity (and beauty!) can really move the needle for me.

• Reaching for – The most amazing incense by Vyrao that my friend Scott got me into. It fills my room with the most delicious scent.

• Obsessed with – Paintings by Spanish artist Guim Tió Zarraluki. He’s the only person who has made sleeping look interesting ha!

  Until next time!

  –Isa

Although there are other episodes I may have liked even more, there was something about the one titled “Does anyone like their job?” that unlocked a little nugget of insight—one I haven’t stopped thinking about since.

If you’ve been reading me for a while, it’ll come as no surprise that this question—how we relate to our work—is one I return to often. Maybe it’s because I’m still trying to rewire my brain to stop tying happiness and success to just one narrow source. Like PJ, the host of the podcast, I’ve always quietly believed that success is partly born out of a mix of worry, perfectionism, desperation, and obsessive overthinking. In other words: that the reward only comes after the suffering. (And maybe a lot of it.)

But by the end of the episode, PJ lands somewhere softer. He wonders whether the bigger question might be: “How do ambitious people find a way to be happy? How do they succeed without making their own misery part of the machinery that gets them there?”

And then this line:

“The desire to succeed can give you what you want while at the same time removing the ability to enjoy it. So maybe the secret power, sometimes, is to not try so hard.”

That snapped something into focus for me.

It made me think about the last thing I really, truly enjoyed making something—where that “secret power” came easily: the wedding jewelry I designed with my friend Oksana from Third Reasons. (Don’t worry—there will come a day when I stop talking about wedding things. Just… not today.)

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As I tried to understand why the process felt so satisfying, I kept circling around the same answer: I didn’t try so hard.

Not in the apathetic sense. Not in the lazy sense. But in a grounded, low-pressure, intuitive way.

I didn’t over-reference. I didn’t obsess. I didn’t try to force it to say something profound about me. I just trusted Oksana, found inspiration in something that felt personal and meaningful, and let the process flow. I simply stayed open. And because of that—what came out was better than anything I could’ve forced.

It was the same with my friend An from AV Patisserie and the cake. (I know, I know. These examples might sound too specific—of course it was easy, you were working with really talented, sensitive people who get you. But that’s not really the point.)

The point is: I wasn’t gripping. I wasn’t trying to make it perfect. I wasn’t so attached to the outcome that I forgot to enjoy the making.

And maybe… that’s the nugget to come back to every now and then.

I’m not here to argue that success should be effortless. Or that hard work is bad. But I am wondering if we over-glorify struggle. If we confuse effort with value. If the whole “the harder it is, the bigger the reward” thing needs to be questioned a bit.

I don’t know where the balance lives yet. But lately, I’m interested in this gentler kind of ambition—the kind that doesn’t self-destruct in the process. The kind that makes space for fun.

No hard conclusion. Just a thought I’m sitting with.

‘Favorites’ Lately:

• Listening to – These 'Morning Affirmations', my friend Alyssa recommended. A little cheesy, but so what? They've actually been such a sweet and kind way to wake up.

• Craving – This ‘Banana Boston Cream’ Pie from Paris Starn’s Substack. Looks unreal.

• Reading – The book ‘Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation of Women Against Themselves’. As someone who loves pop culture, this has been a mind-blowing read on how history and media have shaped female dynamics and competition.

• Tried – A 60min massage at Spencer’s in West Hollywood with Joanna Vargas. Highly highly recommend.

• Avoided – Changing my 15-year-old password… which led to me getting hacked on an old Hotmail account. On the plus side, I’m basically a pro-hacker now. PSA: don’t be like me—change yours.

• Loved – Discovering Pierre Boncompain’s work. See below.

Until next time!

–Isa

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Which is funny, because I’ve secretly resented weddings most of my life. Marriage too, if I’m honest. I never dreamt about a white dress or imagined floating through a party as the center of attention. I didn’t picture it—not because I was cynical, but because it never felt like me.

Some of that came from movies that sold us a flawless, magical version of love. Some of it was the catechism teacher who, when I was 8, told me I’d only be “complete” once I got married (thanks for that). And some of it was a quiet fear that I might never find someone to choose me that way.

Things changed with David. Slowly. Gently. The idea of marriage stopped feeling like a role I had to play, and started becoming something we could shape. Together.

When we began planning, we swore we’d do things differently. No drama, no pressure, no outdated traditions. Just a meaningful weekend to celebrate with the people we love.

Spoiler: we hit every single cliché.

Guest list stress? Check. Tricky family dynamics? Check. Budget spirals, performance anxiety, “The Dress” spiral, a massive existential identity crisis? Check, check, check, check.

But here’s the part I didn’t expect: planning a wedding became a kind of emotional boot camp. It magnified things I’d been carrying for years—about control, vulnerability, being seen, being loved. I realized I wasn’t “above” caring. I cared deeply. And that was the hardest part to admit.

I deleted Instagram for a while (replaced the addiction with TikTok instead…) and came across this video where someone described wedding planning as a shedding process. Not just about logistics, but about letting go of old versions of yourself. That stuck with me and gave me the perspective shift I really needed.
What if all this stress was just a fast-track toward clarity?

Now, typing this from my honeymoon, I want to write it all down while it’s still fresh. Because even if you’re not planning a wedding, maybe you’re planning something—a move, a new chapter, a big project. And maybe, like me, you're learning how to hold things more loosely. To receive without flinching. To let go of the performance and just show up, fully.

So instead of offering wedding advice (I’m doing you a favor, trust me), I thought I’d write down the things that surprised me, delighted me, cracked me open. Not because you need to care about weddings—but because these tiny moments helped me zoom out and remember what matters when life feels like a performance.

Here are some of the things I want to remember:

Favorite Unphotographed Moment

Dancing to the last song of the night with David while all of our friends formed a circle around us, cheering us on. I Feel So Close played in the background as we jumped up and down, and for a second, it felt like a movie. I looked at David—completely present—and instead of fearing the night coming to an end (something I struggle with way too often), I just laughed, looked around, and thanked the moment I was in.
I felt pure, total joy just being there—without a single intrusive thought of it being too good to be true. Not once questioning the moment, just being in it.

Favorite Emotional Surprise

Right before walking up the aisle, Leticia—one of our wedding planners—noticed I was a bit flustered. She pulled me aside and said, “Take a breath. Let this feeling sink in. Remember that you’re marrying your best friend. None of this is for anyone else. When you read your vows, just look at him and you’ll feel grounded.”

Usually, advice like that sounds great in theory, but it leaves my brain the moment nerves kick in. Somehow, this time, it stayed with me. I did just that.
I read my vows without flinching, without rushing, without a shaky voice. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t performing. I was just sharing with David how I feel about him. That shift—from being hyper-aware of myself to simply focusing on him—completely changed the experience.

Favorite Thing That Went ‘Wrong’ (But Made It Better)

For a second, we thought it might rain. The clouds were rolling in just as we sat down for dinner in the garden, and we even saw a flash of lightning. My mom, being quite the character she is, ran to the lawn and stabbed knives into the ground—an old Mexican tradition to stop the rain. Did she really have to do it three times and leave three guests knifeless for a bit? Probably not. Did it work? It absolutely did. The sky cleared, and we laughed through it.

Favorite Unexpected Truth

Turns out, I’m not as socially introverted when I’m surrounded by people I love. I thought I’d feel self-conscious being the center of attention. But instead, I felt like I was floating in this overwhelming current of love. Not performing, just receiving. And for once, it didn’t make me shrink. It made me feel grateful. It was a reminder to be with the people who know me and David deeply—who’ve shaped us, and still do.

Favorite Detail with a Backstory

Two of my favorite elements from the wedding were the ones I worked on with friends: the cake, made by my friend An from Av Patisserie, and the custom jewelry David and I designed with our other friend Oksana from Third Reasons. One was sweet, so delicious and gone in minutes, the other will last a lifetime—but both felt deeply personal because of who helped bring them to life. There’s something about creating with people you love that makes the whole experience feel more textured and more yours. More on the process next week—can’t wait to share the full story.

Getting married obviously didn’t change me. But something in me did shift a little. Not in a dramatic, life-altering way—just a quiet loosening. These days, I feel a softness I didn’t expect. I’m still me, but maybe a version that trusts herself a tiny bit more. One that’s less interested in performing and more interested in feeling it all.

I used to think weddings were about perfection or spectacle. Now I think they’re just a very effective way to strip you down to your core beliefs—about love, control, family, visibility. And if you let them, they can show you what you’re ready to let go of.

No grand takeaway—just a few things I want to remember when I inevitably get sidetracked and wrapped up in distractions that don’t serve me.Thanks for being here and reading this. For letting me take up space in your inbox while I figure this out in real time.

–Isabella

The inspiration I've felt from feeling so seen and understood through this book has unlocked a creative energy in me and intuitively drew me back to writing this newsletter. For the first time, I'm approaching it without the usual anxiety and shame of having "dropped the ball on something yet again," and instead, I'm simply following the pull to share things that have filled my different inner buckets without overthinking and overintellectualizing them.

It's been a tough start to the year. Living in LA, the recent fires have been a somber reminder of how fragile and fleeting life can be. While everyone is processing this tragedy on different levels, it's made me reflect deeply on the impermanence and uncertainty of life itself on a whole new level. I've spent most of my life in a constant tug-of-war with uncertainty — resisting change, dreading endings, and desperately seeking some guarantee that the good things will last. I'm the type of person who in the same breath as saying hi, is already mourning the eventual goodbye, which ends up robbing me from actually being present in the moment itself.

What lies beneath this constant anxiety towards endings is a deep longing for certainty — a reassurance that nothing will change or end, which of course, will never come. Just when I thought I couldn't feel more seen by this book, I read a chapter called "On Letting the Moment Pass." Burkeman writes, "It's detrimental to approach good experiences like this: they're for living, not holding on to." He explains that sometimes the fleetingness of a moment "isn't a threat to what's unfolding but the very source of its value. The transience is the whole point." Let that really sink in...

So here I am, sharing some things that have helped me sit with uncertainty lately — pieces of wisdom, entertainment, and music that have made me feel less alone in this constant dance with impermanence. Maybe you'll find something here that speaks to you too, or at least makes you feel seen in your own relationship with change and endings.

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My Favorite Read Of The Month:

‘Meditations for Mortals’ by Oliver Burkeman – If you couldn’t tell from the above, I’m really, really obsessed with this book. His approach to living well—by embracing our inherent limitations, like finite time and inevitable distractions, and guiding us to work with our current selves instead of against them—feels incredibly freeing. The book is also broken into really short chapters, designed to be read one per day for four weeks, which was a refreshing structure. It took me just 15 minutes a day.

My Favorite Watch Of The Month:

‘SNL50: Beyond Saturday Night’ on Peacock – This behind-the-scenes look at SNL couldn’t have come at a better time for my perfectionist soul. Watching the controlled chaos of their process was somehow both anxiety-inducing and deeply comforting. At one point, a producer says, “if we didn’t move this fast, we’d have time to overthink it”—and by default, the magic would get lost. Seeing how this iconic show embraces imperfection made me feel better about my own incredibly messy creative process, as well as the idea of working within limitations and restrictions.

My Favorite Listen of the Month:

‘DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS’ by Bad Bunny – I typed this entire newsletter while listening to this album, have driven around LA for the past month strictly listening to this album, and will probably cook tonight while listening to this album. Funny enough, I wasn’t the biggest Bad Bunny fan, but these songs quickly changed that. The album feels nostalgic, fun, and personal—exactly what I needed. I’ve also become addicted to watching TikToks of older generations of Puerto Rican families recognizing the sampled song in "Nueva Yol" and breaking into spontaneous dance parties. There’s something so pure about seeing multiple generations connect over music that bridges time and culture. (Also, if you haven’t fallen into this TikTok rabbit hole yet, I’m sorry—but also, you’re welcome!)

Talk Easy’s ‘The Week That Changed Los Angeles’ Episode – Whether you’re an LA local or not, this episode is an important listen. It reflects on the immeasurable loss caused by the recent fires, told through incredibly intimate personal stories that bring Altadena’s rich history to life. What moved me most were the stories of Altadena residents who have been part of the community for generations—people whose entire lives are rooted in family and tradition. Despite all the loss, there’s something quietly hopeful in their unwavering commitment to rebuilding and staying connected to the place and people they come from. Their dedication to helping others has become a powerful silver lining in the midst of this tragedy.

Until next time,

–Isa

This idea came to me because I've been feeling increasingly pressured to prove my self-worth, both to myself and others (a concept shocking to no one). Along with this, my struggles with anxiety, perfectionism, and decision paralysis have spiked. I'm aware of how much I tie my value and self-worth to productivity, creating something with monetary value, and demonstrating to the world that I'm “successful” (whatever success truly means).

So, the goal was simple: To engage in more play, not tied to any business venture, something not intended for validation, profit, content creation, etc. Something easily achievable that I could start and finish within a few hours. Low stakes, low expectations—just a few hours of play, with a clear and hopefully delicious outcome.

And I did it. From two failed poppy seed loaves (note to everyone: do not confuse baking soda with baking powder—it matters, trust me) to banana and miso caramel cups, apple tarts, and Japanese cheesecake, some were amazing, some were inedible. And it didn't matter. I achieved my goal, which felt like a big deal for someone who is overly critical of oneself and struggles to complete projects.

At first, I thought that the key to achieving my goal had to do with the combination of mixing the low-stakes aspect with play. But I quickly realized that it was more than that. While I sometimes baked for friends, I mostly did it for myself. That felt special. It was from me, to me. Cooking has always been celebrated because it’s seen as an act of love for others, something that brings people together, but it turns out to also be a pretty powerful act of self-love and healing when it's done for yourself. I found it to be as enjoyable (if not more because there was no pressure) as when I bake for friends and family. It was an intimate form of self-care that I hadn't experienced before. It felt meaningful.

So, with that said, this month's newsletter has a theme: food and the personal journey of how making it for yourself can help heal some of the small wounds that we all have. I hope you enjoy it and that it inspires you to play without expectations and to do more from you, to you.

Favorite Things I've Eaten This Month:

Desserts from Molly Baz’s ‘More is More’ – Three of my favorite desserts were from this book. I made the “Salted Malted Banoffee Trifle Cup”, “Miso Glazed Apple Tart” and “Poppy Cake.” All were delicious and easy to make, but with a creative twist that made the process so much more fun. Hunting some of the ingredients was quite the journey, but I will forever be grateful for anything that gives me an excuse to go to Target to hunt down Grape Nuts and Malted Milk Powder while accidentally stumbling into the skincare section, which I just can never stay away from. But I digress. The point is that this is a great place to start, not only to bake for your friends and upcoming dinner parties but also for yourself. All of them have a touch of nostalgia and ease that I know you will enjoy.

Dinner at ‘Sal’s Place’ – My friends and I are big fans of the podcast “How Long Gone,” and after hearing the hosts talk multiple times about this no-fuss, cash-only restaurant in Hollywood, we decided to branch out and try something new. And what can I say... I’m obsessed with this place. Funny enough, the food is not the most memorable thing, BUT the service, vibe, and energy are. I highly recommend calling your best friends and making up an excuse to get together and grab dinner here. P.S.–If you meet Siobhan, she will make your day and send over free dishes for you to try. She is amazing and truly makes you feel at home. Don’t forget to bring cash!

Favorite Things I've Watched This Month:

‘The Taste of Things’ by Tran Anh Hung – If there is one thing from this list that you walk away with, please let it be to watch this movie. It is one of the most incredible films I’ve ever seen. I had no expectations walking into it, so I won’t say much so you can experience it for yourself. The thing that I will say is that it's about food and about the love and patience that goes into making it. If you watch it, please report back. I want to talk about it as much as possible!

‘Dinner Time Live With David Chang’ – I’ve always been a huge Dave Chang fan; Majordomo is one of my favorite restaurants in LA and is the one to blame for me eating meat again after 15 years of being a vegetarian. This show, besides being an easy and fun watch, has taught me more than I expected. Chang is at times a chaotic cook who messes up a lot but doesn't dwell on it, pivoting over and over again. It's easy to think that the people I look up to have everything figured out, but watching Chang's journey shows that even though he messes up repeatedly, he simply keeps moving. It is pretty comforting to see. Disclaimer: I don't recommend watching this show hungry; it’ll make you angry not to be in the same room as him while tasting everything.

Favorite Things I've Read This Month:

‘Atelier September’ by Frederik Bille Brahe – I intended to flip through this cookbook before going to bed to get inspired for my baking challenge, but in fact, the last thing I did was pay attention to any of the food. Don’t get me wrong; everything looks delicious and beautiful, but the most special thing in it is the writing. I have way too many cookbooks, yet I’ve never actually read them besides skimming through the recipes, if even. Yet Frederik Bille Brahe, the chef of Atelier September (a lunch spot/coffee shop in Copenhagen) and author of this book, changed this for me. At the beginning of each chapter, he writes short paragraphs about what it means “to love, to leap, to feel, to belong, to define, to care, to dream, and to bloom” through the lens of his journey with food. The paragraph that moved me the most was this: “I have always lived on the edge of fear and failure. I wanted to be an architect but could barely read when I left school. I wanted to be the best chef in the world but never made it beyond the veggie section. I wanted to be a conceptual artist but did a lot more talking than making art. I wanted to open my own place, a small café with big ideas. I didn’t think anyone would ever come. It could be a giant failure. I leaped into the unknown. I was free. It was fun. It became something.”

‘Working With Your Hands Is Good for Your Brain’ by Markham Heid – Very much in line with what baking has done for me this past month, this article that my friend Steph shared with me speaks to how “working with one’s hands is stimulating to the brain, and that it could even help counteract this learned helplessness that some of us experience. When you put in effort and can see the exact product of that, like a scarf you knitted, it builds up a sense of accomplishment and control over your world.” This is how I’ve felt about something as trivial as baking can sound. Maybe this will inspire you to pick something up that will allow you to touch, feel, and make something with your hands.

Favorite Things I've Read This Month:

‘On Confidence’ by The School of Life – I've read this book three times (granted it's tiny) but it's one I often revisit for a confidence boost. As I mentioned, I've always admired those effortlessly confident people, assuming they're just born with an innate belief in themselves and their abilities. However, this book debunks that myth, portraying confidence as a ‘skill rather than a divine gift’. It emphasizes the importance of cultivating confidence, stating that it's not something to look down upon either. Instead, it's ‘the catalyst that transforms our talents into action in the world. We should embrace and develop confidence in confidence’.

‘This Year, I’m Going to Plan Less’ by Danielle Cohen – If you're like me and feel like February is the new January when it comes to feeling the momentum of forming new rituals to feel better, you’ll enjoy the ideas in this article. I find myself just now open to reading articles on forming new habits that in January I would find triggering and stressful because of the pressure to, in short, become a new, better person as soon as January 1st came along. Although I'm not a chronic planner like the author of this, I loved the idea of being open to more spontaneity in general, including low-stakes hangs, impromptu walks with friends, last-minute gatherings, etc.

Favorite Things I've Watched This Month:

‘A Murder at the End of the World’ – This show got me out of my slump of watching bad shows at home. My partner and I actually looked forward to Monday nights at 9:01 pm since that's when new episodes came out. It’s a classic whodunit story but with a more layered narrative that feels new and relevant to the times we live in, especially with AI. It was co-created by Britt Marling, whom I’m deeply obsessed with. I actually was able to see a live podcast recording (listen here) with her and was so inspired by her thoughtfulness and the way she looks at the world. Her representation of women in films, her overall optimism in life, and encouragement for the collective in a world too focused on individual growth are all themes she talked about, that also came through in the show. The soundtrack is amazing, too. You’ll have it on repeat, I promise.

‘Song Exploder’ (Season 2 Episode 4) – I’ve always been fascinated with how songs are made. I’ve watched countless videos to try to understand the magic behind creating a song, but one of the most special shows on the topic that I’ve seen is Song Exploder’s Natalia Lafourcade’s episode. It explores the making of the Mexican singer's song 'Hasta La Raíz,' which happens to be one of my favorites. The song is deeply personal and introspective, reflecting on themes of love, loss, and self-discovery. It talks about the journey of returning to one's roots, both metaphorically and literally, to find oneself and confront past experiences. Seeing a breakdown of how she made this song is an absolute joy. I highly recommend watching every epsiodes in this series; they are amazing (Sampha & Alicia Keys’ episode is a must too).

Favorite Things I've Listened To This Month:

‘The Next Big Idea’s: Psychology of Money’ Episode – Dario, the owner of 'Untitled,' one of my favorite bookstores in LA, recommended this episode a few months back. To be honest, the fact that it's done by LinkedIn wasn't exactly enticing, but I decided to give it a go anyway and it's definitely worth a listen. The interviewer chats about the dangers of comparing ourselves to others and drops some valuable wisdom about finding happiness by lowering our expectations.

‘The Daily's: The Year of Taylor Swift’ Episode – Alright, before you roll your eyes, hear me out. I know many are Taylor'd out, but this episode is a must-listen, especially for those who wonder ‘why Taylor suddenly became so huge’ and what makes her music so special. I listened to it on the plane and teared up, then played it for my sister and skeptical dad and got emotional again. My ultimate goal is to listen to it with my partner (who couldn’t care less about her) to make him a fan once and for all, so I can play her songs wherever and whenever I want. Oh, and if you’re not already a fan please report back if it changes your perspective about her. It would make my day :)

If you know me, you're well aware that 'favorite' is practically the most frequently used word in my vocabulary. I admit, I’m known for calling too many things my favorites, but I’m just the type of person who can't contain their enthusiasm when stumbling upon something that enriches my mind in some way. My sister refers to these episodes as my 'monthly hyperfixations,' which can range from deep dives into existential topics to discussing the latest pop hit. I constantly seek content that adds value to my life, whether it's through profound insights or simply pure fun.

For me, stumbling upon an article that teaches me something new, a podcast that makes me feel less alone, or a pop culture gem that makes me laugh truly acts as fuel for my soul.

Through this newsletter, I aim to share my ever-expanding list of favorite articles, books, podcasts, movies, places, and more, with the hope that they'll ignite a spark in your life and potentially become your favorites too.

Without further ado, here are my September picks.

Favorite Things I've Read This Month:

'As if it Matters' by Amanda Greeley – This is one of my favorite (!) newsletters. The first piece I read, and one that I often revisit, is called ‘The Magic of Impermanence.’ I shared it with just about everyone I encountered, including the barista at Sightglass, my hairdresser, my 75-year-old neighbor, and friends over dinner. The author discusses our fixation with permanence and with labeling ourselves which more often than not hinders our ability to change and evolve. This month, she wrote a piece about creation vs. imitation that really resonated with me. As a creative who has grown somewhat jaded by current brands, I've been craving those with new perspectives and ideas that feel fresh and honest. Amanda ends with a simple but valuable suggestion on the first step to take: "Start with a conversation. Instead of looking around at what's been done or what everyone else is doing, think about what it is that you're trying to achieve and the feeling you want to evoke in people."

'Don't Believe Everything You Think' by Joseph Nguyen – If I had a penny for every self-help book I've read... I would be rich. However, this book, which I received as a gift, was genuinely helpful. I had no expectations and knew nothing about it, which made it a happy surprise. It's a quick and easy read that taught me helpful techniques for managing my anxious mind. The most significant takeaway was the idea of treating a thought differently from the act of thinking. A thought is an involuntary reaction, but the act of thinking is what you do with that thought. I found this concept incredibly liberating, as it made me feel more in control of my mind. I can't do much about the first thought that pops into my head, but I can practice not getting hung up on it.

'Whatever Happened to Having Taste?' by Rachel Tashjian – My friend Abe shared this article a bit ago, and the title instantly grabbed my attention. I've been questioning a lot about my own taste, especially after moving to LA, and I catch myself wondering if I genuinely like the things I like because of myself or if my environment and Instagram are steering me in that direction. This article offers so many interesting insights on taste and the influence the internet has on it. Even though it talks about The Real Housewives, which I know nothing about, the references to the rise and fall of influencers and how taste has become so homogeneous are, in my opinion, so spot-on. "The result is that our taste has become, as The Real Housewives suggested, only more homogeneous, more limited. It's hard to find something special — and why bother looking for it, anyway?"

Favorite Things I've Watched This Month:

'The Bear' – I know that probably 99% of people here have already watched and even re-watched this show. But I literally think about 'Forks,' the second season's seventh episode, on a weekly basis so I couldn't not talk about it. I won't spoil it, but witnessing this character's journey to find his purpose deeply moved me. Seeing him unlock something within himself that he had never connected with before was incredibly inspiring and a joy to watch. So, for the 1% who haven't seen it, please give it a try. It's worth enduring the high anxiety of other episodes, I promise. For the other 99%…watch it again.

Jungle's 'Back On 74' – I can't remember the last music video I watched in its entirety. Justin Timberlake's 'What Goes Around Comes Around' was the first to come to mind, which is both sad and terrifying. It came out in ‘07… Although I’m sure I’ve seen others since then, it surprises me how little I care for music videos in general now. So when I watched Jungle's new one, it reminded me what a fun watch they can be. This one made me smile.

'Home' (Season 2 Episode 2) – This episode shows an incredible glimpse into the lives of Mexican fashion designer Carla Fernandez and artist Pedro Reyes and how they created their beautiful and ever-evolving home in Mexico City. It was an incredibly inspiring watch, and getting to hear personal stories not only from them but also from their kids was very special. 

Favorite Things I've Listened To This Month:

‘Classy with Jonathan Menjivar’ – I came across this podcast per my mom's recommendation, and I cannot explain how much it blew my mind to hear the way the host and guests discuss class and other taboo topics related to it. I recommend starting with the first episode; it takes a moment to pick up, but it's worth it. I only listened to one episode at a time vs. binge the entire series because it makes you think a LOT, so I had to space them out to let them truly sink in.

Olivia Rodrigo's ‘Making The Bed’ – So yes... this early on is when I admit I'm an Olivia Rodrigo fan. I never thought I would say this, but sometimes it's actually fun to be transported to what it was like being a teenage girl and Rodrigo’s songs are the perfect nostalgia time-machine for that. My 15-year-old self would play ‘Making the bed’ on repeat, so to pay homage to that version of myself, my current 32-year-old self will do just that.

Until next time!

–Isabella

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