Abundance Indicators: An Inventory of Spring

Notes & photos on where I went, what I watched, wore, and loved this spring

Jun 18, 2026

“Spring is the time of plans and projects.”
― Leo Tolstoy

I may not love every season1, but I love seasons. You know? Any chance at a new beginning is of utmost interest to me.

Spring was good to me, which I didn’t realize until I started selecting photos to share for this post. She came and went but left her mark in blooms and mild weather with a breeze across three cities. I went to the Greater Chicago Area twice2 and New York City once3.

In New York, they know to never call a woman “ma’am,” but the more respectable and non-derogatory “miss.” I wish there was a way to bring this custom over to LA... For a city with such a debilitating anti-aging obsession, you would think it’s possible, but I get called “ma’am” more often than not. Every time it makes my head bolt up in horror and surprise, as if to ask, “Are you talking to ME?”

I am always humbled on a fashion level when I visit New York. All the girls are wearing cashmere sweaters, cable-knit sweaters, ballet flats galore and trenchcoats. I don’t own a single one of these things, but now I aspire to.

I ate ramen at a private window at Ichiran in Midtown, sat in a community garden in Nolita with a coffee, and did my personal favorite tourist route: a subway ride to Zabar’s for black and white cookies, then to a bench in Central Park.

As for the Midwest, there was a period when I first moved away where revisiting felt painful and cruelly alienating. It felt like I was being forced to look into a mirror of all the past versions of myself I was desperately trying to forget, to remember all the old sad stories I didn’t want to read anymore. Suddenly, the place I’d lived in the longest no longer felt like home, and I was failing to fit back in with the updated model of myself. But this year, I was able to just appreciate it as a place again – where the wheat and weeds blow in the gusty wind and the red-winged blackbirds keep watch in the trees.

Places have memories. It’s part of a life lived. That’s all.

In general, I am trying to capture how beauty and dread can coexist right now. Everything is awful and everything is a recession indicator. But I watched a very determined beaver carry a pile of twigs over to his dam in a marsh pond overflooded from torrential rains. I spied on an egret and a great blue heron – very private, regal creatures. (It’s like they know they’re being watched and they say, “no thank you” and slink away into the background.)

They’re already starting the elite-ification of reading and writing to normalize AI, but Spencer Pratt is out of the LA mayoral race, and The Odyssey and Charli xcx’s new album will be out in a month.

Things can be good, too. Believe it not.

I finally saw Obsession4 and all I could think about was how Nikki’s life was ruined. I watched Wanda and Chungking Express on the plane – back-to-back. I binged Too Much and Hacks5 on my phone while doing chores and making dinner.

I listened to Olivia Rodrigo’s “you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love” (it’s giving me Smashing Pumpkins/Cocteau Twins/90s alt rock vibes in the best way), Bassvictim’s “?” (unsettling, but at times lovely) and Slayyyter’s “WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA” (punk rock/hyper pop masterpiece, no notes) on repeat.

I’m struck by how, except when you’re young, you really need to prioritize in life, figuring out in what order you should divide up your time and energy. If you don’t get that sort of system set by a certain age, you’ll lack focus and your life will be out of balance.

– Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

I read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. It made me think about routines in a new way, mainly because Murakami (a fellow Capricorn) possesses a discipline and drive that feels superhuman to me. My routines have been a mess since I moved to LA four years ago. But to be fair, I never tried to be a person until I moved to LA. Caring for myself is still new to me. What I’ve found so far is that I do best when I make everything as low-pressure and appear as “unscheduled” as possible. It’s like I’m trying to fool myself into thinking that structure is freedom, and then somehow it works.

In the spring, I got really into sweater vests and flats. I documented approximately a million different flowers. I forced myself to consume new media instead of relistening to the same podcast episodes over and over again (my own personal recession indicator). I traveled back to familiar places and found myself invigorated by them. I always forget that the very act of going somewhere else forces me to see things differently. Every time I return, I feel like I’ve gotten out of a mini-rut I didn’t even know I was in before the trip. The same goes for anything I watched, read or listened to this season. I am a more interesting person when I am actively interested.

I finished the first draft of one short story and the third draft of another story, from the desk in my bedroom with the windows open after dark. I walked my normal number of steps in LA and an astonishing number twice that amount in NYC. I got a new tattoo. I ate on patios with friends and family and sat in many movie theaters.

Springtime, in the end, was a bit about plans and projects – but more so beautiful abandon and wandering.