Is This It?

Last week, for the first time since I started this little experiment of mine, I left the “Next Week” section open ended. No topic teaser because my brain hadn’t gotten there yet. And somehow, that felt less like an omission and more like a confession. Because if I’m being honest? I’m tired. Not chic-late-for-brunch tired. But bone-deep, “is-this-the-plot-now?” tired.

Then on Sunday, I took one step out of my apartment door and the dreaded neighbor encounter followed. We both boarded the elevator, heading downstairs. After a few pleasantries, he asked, "Are you going to the gym?" I said no. But what came next made me stop and think: "I always like to go to the gym on Sundays because it's a reminder of what a blessing the week ahead is going to be."

Blessings? On a Sunday? From a man going downstairs in his karate costume? Still, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe Sundays aren’t just about sweatpants and Uber Eats. Maybe they’re about hitting reset. About releasing the pressures and headlines of last week, and daring to believe the week ahead could be better.

Is this it? Are we all just exhausted neighbors in the same elevator, trying to convince ourselves that optimism is still worth the ride?

Lately, I feel like I’m drowning in a feed I never subscribed to. The news is toxic, politics are theater, and social media?... just the same fights, recycled and amplified by algorithms designed to reward cruelty. It’s like willingly walking into a storm, day after day, and then wondering why we’re soaked.

So last week, I called a time-out. I stopped doomscrolling, turned the volume down, and went old-school: a Bravo rewind to when reality TV felt messy but manageable. Housewives before glam squads. Project Runway when the harshest critique was “it looks a little mall.” Even Top Chef when the drama was about overcooked scallops, not personal takedowns.

You could argue that it’s mind-numbing content. But to me, it felt like something else entirely: a solid distraction. A reminder that I could still choose what filled my headspace. For a few hours, I wasn’t caught in the chaos of the world around me and I was in control.

And here’s the irony: reality TV reunions, for all their chaos, still required people to show up, face each other, and talk it out. Meanwhile, our politicians can’t even manage that. Maybe the guilty pleasure isn’t the drama at all… maybe it’s the fantasy of accountability. For a few hours, even if it was Housewives, I felt like I was watching adults in the room.

Even with the TV remote off, the performance doesn’t end. Job searching means every Zoom is an audition, every coffee chat is an opening night. Optimism is my costume, small talk my script.

And yet, no one warns you how draining it is to pitch yourself daily while waiting for the reviews to come in. I leave conversations tired - not from the effort, but from the hope.

Is this it? Is networking just career speed-dating? Showing up again and again with your best stories, hoping one of these conversations finally leads somewhere? I leave meetings optimistic, but also drained. Over dinner I’m reciting the day’s “accomplishments”, sometimes with little to show but another small step forward. The irony is that those baby steps do add up, yet in the moment they feel clumsy and endless. Forward, yes. Graceful? Not so much.

Then there’s my favorite, most exhausting role: Dad. Raising a two-year-old is like being on tour with Lady Gaga. Eat 👏🏼 park 👏🏼 gymnastics 👏🏼 another park 👏🏼 another meal 👏🏼 Frozen 👏🏼 

There’s no pause button, no intermission, just costume changes and encore after encore.

But then there are the tiny miracles. A giant smile from across the room as I’m preparing her food. A giggle when I chase her around the living room. A bedtime hug that whispers, thanks for showing up today, Dad.

What I realized this week is that the endless cycle of eat, park, Frozen, repeat can feel relentless (because it is). But the real joy isn’t about keeping up - it’s about passing your energy forward. One giggle, one hug, one simple smile at a time.

Even rest feels performative these days. I go to bed exhausted, wake up exhausted, and still have to find the motivation to roll out of bed (eventually I do, see above: two-year-old).

Enter my Eight Sleep mattress (Andrew Ross Sorkin once said it changed his life for the better, and that's all I needed to know to buy it.). For months, I thought of it as an overpriced climate-control gadget until I was reminded of its true power: waking me up with weaponized vibrations at 6am. Turns out my sleep is pretty solid - I even have the data to prove it. I just need a motivating factor to get up and go in the morning. 

It’s not glamorous. But it works. And sometimes, the biggest catalyst for change isn’t a new job or a bold headline. Sometimes, it’s literally beneath you.

So here I am: citizen, professional, parent - performing on all fronts, running on empty, and wondering when authenticity became just another costume.

Maybe my neighbor was right: Sundays are about blessings. Not because we need to perform gratitude, but because our bodies need a reminder that we can handle whatever’s next.

Is this it? Is modern life just an endless performance? Or do we finally get to choose which roles matter… and give ourselves permission to skip the rest of the show?

The weekly section where I will call out a fraction: something that felt like progress this week (like a fraction forward) and a fiction: something that turned out to be a distraction or illusion. 

🎯Fraction: This week, mid-run, I noticed the first leaves changing. In a world that feels heavy, letting a little beauty sneak in felt like proof that progress sometimes starts with paying attention.

🎭Fiction: The release of iOS 26. I’ll stan Apple ‘til the end, but if this update is proof of anything, it’s that exhaustion isn’t just personal - it’s institutional. Proof that not every shiny new thing actually shines.

A quick round-up of clips, headlines or stories, and cultural crumbs that made me pause and ask… is this it?

🎤Cardi B

I keep saying I’m tired, but then I look at Cardi B. Pregnant with her fourth child, fresh out of a courtroom, releasing an album (available by the time this hits your inbox), and announcing a tour - all in one week. Same 24 hours, very different stamina. Love her or not, her interview with Gayle King is proof: authenticity isn’t a buzzword, it’s a person.

🏡Mortgage Rates

A plot twist in the homeownership saga? Is this it? Rates fall, refis rise, and suddenly we’re all wondering if the dream of affording four walls and a roof is back on the table. Or is it just another teaser trailer for a movie that never actually premieres?

🧠Brainrot Summer

No anthem, no monoculture, just nostalgia loops and half-baked trends. They’re calling it “Brain Rot Summer,” and even Taco Bell is serving up a throwback meal. Is this it? The moment exhaustion stopped being a mood and became the whole vibe?

👖Gap x Katseye

Denim, dance, and a global girl group. Gap tapped Katseye and suddenly my feed felt… fun? Is this it? Proof that joy can be marketed back to us, and we’ll actually buy it?

If this week’s Is This It? gave you even a drop of fuel, don’t keep it to yourself. Share it with three people who are below a half tank and could use a little boost heading into their weekendUntil next Friday,
Chris

Next Week: A story that’s still writing itself… again