That's That Me Espresso
My little cousins are ruining my Spotify Wrapped
Hello my dear friends, and welcome to my third newsletter! Reporting to you from South London, where I am tippity tappiting on my computer alongside my 10-year old cousin Caroline on a Tuesday (Taco Tuesday, to be specific) evening. She is currently writing a story to submit to her school writing contest, heavily inspired by Percy Jackson, because obviously (I mean, were you ever more engrossed in a series than in Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus? Were you ever more alive?). I’m trying to be helpful by spelling out the names of the Greek gods, which is harder than I thought, because how do you sound out Dionysus? So anyway, everyone wish Caroline good luck on her writing competition, and without further ado, on y go!
First things first: SOS—Is my sense of self is dictated by Spotify Wrapped?
As I handed Caroline and Jocelyn microphones (read: wooden spoons) and turned the volume way up on Olivia Rodrigo’s “Get Him Back” (a real banger), an embarrassing thought crossed my mind: My little cousins are RUINING my Spotify Wrapped for this year. “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter1 was queued…seven times in a row. Basically, Sabrina Carpenter could end up in my top artists of the year—which would be absolutely devastating2.
Mmm, nothing like an irrational attachment to external metrics for telling me who I am, while lining the pockets of billionaires, instead of experiencing my own life, am I right?
A few months ago, a gray-haired hippie who frequently muttered about young people these days (something about being overeducated and those goddamn phones), advised me to “stop fucking thinking all the time,” his Turkish accent thick with exasperation, “you can’t think and number your way into living your life”, he’d say, “You have to feel it.”
What’s much more convenient, however, is deluding ourselves with manual amalgamations of curated profiles—Instagram feeds and GoodReads book logs; Strava activity graphs and school transcripts; Beli reviews and Spotify Wrapped. We are convinced that the public-facing sum of our consumption is a proper substitute for knowing ourselves, for authenticity.
These proxies are everywhere, capitalizing upon collective starvation from self-understanding, an aching hunger for someone to tell us who we are and that we’re doing okay.
I am only half-joking when I say that losing my 5-star AirBnb guest or Uber passenger ratings would have me questioning of how good of a human I am—with my Apple Screen Time report pinging and the DuoLingo bird squawking in the background. Perhaps while walking up the stairs four times before bed to get from 9,488 steps to 10,000…Desperately wondering if my 2025 Spotify Wrapped will include Sabrina Carpenter or not (move it up, down, left, right, oh, switch it up like Nintendo).
They make it easy to forget what ‘okay’ actually feels like. My Garmin watch was very pleased with the 35k steps I took the day I walked around Central London…in ballet flats, riding home on the tube that night with bloody blisters.3 And I secretly relished how short a (not great) book I read in February was because it was Easy Money for lengthening my 2025 book list. My brother’s friend chooses multi-layover flights because they improve his FlightMemory map, at the expense of convenience (and sleep).
Aristotle said that “knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” Forgive me for my candor, but how can you know yourself when it’s a piece of metal on your wrist telling you that now would be a good time to stand up, despite hips screaming at you for sitting at your desk all day? If Spotify Wrapped can tell you what city you belong in based on the music you listen to with more conviction than your own intuition4 ?
Maybe I’m being dramatic, exposing the infinite naïvité only an over-thinking, over-educated 23-year old can encapsulate in her worldly revelations. Perhaps the better you know yourself, the less weight these proxies carry. Perhaps you have a more casual relationship with your Uber passenger rating than I; you check your credit score with nonchalance. Maybe they are just meaningless numbers. Maybe it is conspiratorial of me to consider that they exist to tether us to a consumption-based capitalist system built upon a foundation of endless personal insecurities. Dunno.
I’ll spare you here: If Sabrina Carpenter does end up in my Top Artists this year, I hope to know myself well enough to recognize that “Espresso” is not in fact my personality. I hope it reminds me of the six weeks spent with my hilarious and adorable little cousins, dancing with wooden spoon mics and coloring mermaids in London. With “Espresso” in the background. Seven times in a row. (I know I Mountain-Dew it for ya…) (????)
“Do you see yourself through your own eyes, or do you take a bird’s eye view of your life, seeing only outside-in, from the perspective of a watcher?” (from How To Look Like Yourself)
Some other miscellaneous thoughts I’ve been thinking:
On AI: The other day, I was being ridiculous about some cute little bear cubs on a lake in the TV stock photo (naturally). And my little cousins were like “bro Alexandra that’s just AI.” As someone who has cried multiple times watching content narrated by David Attenborough, I was like 😮😮 It never crossed my mind that the baby bears weren’t actually real. I wonder how much more blurred kids’ understanding of truth, of beauty, rawness is today. Are they more or less vulnerable to misinformation? Are they more or less excited about, or trusting of, enamored by the magic in the world? Were the bear cubs really AI?
Breaking: My hair is finally long enough to put it into a pony tail without 179 bobby pins holding it out of my face. I have yearned for this since the day I cut it. Obviously, this means that it is now Too Long and I need to cut it again. Circle of life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I brought Caroline and her school friend on a Saturday morning açaí run last weekend (cue: nostalgia for Santa Monica UbaTuba runs). Pleased to be creating the next generation of hobby joggers who spend their net worth on smoothie bowls when it’s definitely way too cold to be eating frozen things.
London smells delicious in April—jasmine, magnolias, gardenias. Daffodils are poking through every bit of unobstructed dirt on the sidewalks. The trees lining the streets are snow-white, but with cherry blossoms, not snow. Families are setting up soccer (ahem, football) pitches in Hyde Park, and trench coats no longer hide everyone’s outfits. Jocelyn made an Easter bonnet. Cadbury creme eggs. Springtime.
L8ly:
Reading//Short reads: I’ve been reading some great essays lately. Conservatives Are Winning Online by Kate Glavan (RIP Sea Moss Girlies) highlights the power of social media in politics—but not in the vote-for-me kind of way. In the birth-control-will-make-your-girlfriend-dump-you kind of way. The conservative agenda is winning because it has seamlessly slipped into non-political spheres—think religion, comedy, lifestyle, fashion. Anyway, you can read it here (ps, needless to say, this phenomena is not limited to American politics).
I also love all of Dr. Jessica Knurick’s work, like “Chronic Disease Isn’t a Mystery,” where she explains that the solution to chronic disease is not in Red 40 bans, but in systems that support and empower everybody to access quality healthcare, healthy food (think funding for schools to purchase local produce for lunch), safe ways to practice physical activity, be in nature, and time to rest…you get it.
And for a lighter, but no less thought-provoking read, I loved “let's be snobs again” by Elle Jones. And “how to be an explorer of your own life” from milk and cookies is wonderful, too.
Reading//Books: I rarely do this, but I am rereading Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (one of my favorite authors—you must read The Poisonwood Bible and The Bean Trees). I read Demon Copperhead this time last year, when senior year of college started to feel like running on a hamster wheel with 9 different-length legs, to the Nyon Cat music. Last week, I told someone I know who is reading it that I “loved” it, but realized in chagrin after racking my brains, that I could barely remember the protagonist’s name, let alone the plot line. So. Take two.
Eating: Cooking for kids is fun because there is nothing better than chopping vegetables and seasoning shrimp for an hour, only for Jocelyn’s cheese+flour tortilla to steal the show. I’m just kidding; I respect that this is a winning combo and I must say that she added bell peppers (of her own free will) when we made pizza last Monday. My 21-year old brother with a grown-up job in NYC still picks the peppers off of his pizza. Also my little cousins and I made sushi together last weekend, so fun. And we baked a vanilla buckwheat cake with raspberries and raspberry jam filling and buttercream frosting for Mother’s Day (UK) on Sunday, which was pretty delicious. Plus my go-to peanut-quinoa salad, Lebanese meatball bowls, kale salad (duh), fajitas, and many quesadillas. Grubbin!!!
Watching: You guys already know I don’t watch shows, but I watched Adolescence with my cousins (the adults, to be clear), and I did not expect to be so shaken by it. I am still processing, but I think that probably means that it’s Important and Real. Also the one-shot style filming was crazy impressive from a production talent standpoint (and I think made it feel more real life). It’s on Netflix.
Listening: See above. (…I’m working late…cause I’m a singerRR)
Creating: Mermaids and sea creatures, always nonstop. & occasionally writing letters to you guys, but the price of stamps in the UK is exorbitant and the exchange rate is not great if you get paid in dollars (rip).
From my Recents album:
Anyways, thats all for today! I love you guys so much! Thank you for reading, for listening to my half-formed thoughts, for letting me be wrong and ridiculous and maybe a little dramatic, but loving me regardless. I would loveeee to hear from you, as always. Big hug from me to you.
Love,
Ale
(say you can’t sleep baby i know, that’s that me espresso. move it up, down, left, right, oh switch it up like nintendo. i can’t relaaate to desperation, my give-a-fucks are on vacation. and I got this one boy, and he won't stop callin', when they act this way, I know I got 'em)☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️
Apparently Taylor is out and Sabrina is in with the kids these days, which is devastating and makes me feel like a senior citizen. Jesús Cristo.
Despite the fact that I literally shared my Wrapped with two people last year (Annabel and Laila, obviously).
⚠️tw: blisters:
Downright predatory for a 22-year old who has no idea what to do with her life. Because honestly I would consider moving to San Diego just because Spotify told me to.
I literally don't understand how these newsletters can be this good. I'm sitting in the library right now and grateful for the side armrests --> otherwise I would've completely fallen out of my chair 🙃
cuz im a singerrrrrrrr