Brain-Rot
Well, not me holding true to my word, redesigning and coding my entire fucking blog because the “user-friendly” Squarespace templates were giving basic at best. And then posting twice in one week. Is this what accountability looks like? I wouldn’t know. But I did do that.
It took years off my life, but I had a vision [imagine a That’s So Raven GIF here] and I haven’t been sleeping so I might as well be productive.
Actually, I wrote three blogs, but I fear I went a little too feral to post, even for me. So this is technically my third, and honestly, it’s a bit all over the place. Blame the lack of sleep. Apologies in advance, but these are my thoughts…
Honestly, how am I even in the same species category as Kaia Gerber? Feels very insulting for her, to be honest.
You know what else is gorgeous? Ggiata’s new PCH cookie. So salty and so sweet at the same time. Being a slut for that weird pistachio drizzle was not on my 2026 vision board, but here we are.
Sophie officially made more money than me last month, which is not surprising because she is an actual stunning queen, but it is equally insulting considering I have a career and she has a bed.
I think I’m good at what I do. I work endlessly to make sure I’m on top of everything, and yet my bank account is not telling the same story. Apparently being talented and being financially rewarded for it are two completely separate concepts.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living in an alternate universe depending on which Instagram algorithm I happen to be in at any given time.
Right now, I am Juror 11 on the Lindsay Clancy case. It is quite literally all I think about, and I’m brought back to real life when I hear myself explaining to someone how the CVS CT cameras show his hair curly in one video, then eight minutes later it’s straight in another, and he’s wearing completely different clothes.
They looked at me like I was crazy.
To be fair, I am.
But like… he did it, right?!
Anyway, speaking of people who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing...
I don’t think everyone needs to be an entrepreneur. Some of you need a supervisor.
Not everyone needs a personal brand, a seven-figure business, a podcast, a course, or a LinkedIn post about their “morning routine as a founder.” Sometimes the dream is simply having direct deposit hit every other Friday and nobody asking you to “circle back” after 6 p.m.
And honestly, I think we’ve done a lot of damage convincing everyone that if they aren’t monetizing every skill, hobby, thought, and childhood trauma, they’re somehow failing at life.
Rich coming from me, from my blog. LOL.
“Authenticity” has somehow become the most manufactured aesthetic on the internet.
Everyone is “being real” in the exact same beige apartment, wearing the exact same Parke crewneck, holding the exact same little matcha, talking about how they’ve “learned to slow down” after spending six hours filming themselves slowing down.
I don’t even know what authentic means anymore. If you have to announce that something is authentic, I’m immediately suspicious.
I am authentically awkward, overthinking every move or word I say, replaying conversations in my head and wondering if that weird thing I said three hours ago was, in fact, weird.
And I say this as someone who has spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to make things look effortless.
The internet has turned “effortless” into a full-time production with lighting, a content calendar, three camera angles, and someone in the comments saying, “Send me this post.”
Anyway, here is a photo dump to go with my brain dump.
Good luck out there.
