I’m at a coffee shop this morning — slightly chilly (forgot my sweater), slightly dehydrated (forgot my water bottle) — but the vibes are 100p and the creativity is flowing through me. I read this article once (is it annoying that I start every sentence with this) that talked about how we consume too much to be creative ourselves and I’ve definitely fallen victim to that. I’m constantly consuming other people’s art — movies, books, museums, tik toks, ig stories, newsletters, etc. Seldom do I feel the urge to create anything of my own. Most days, I avoid writing like the plague, which is ironic considering I’ve made a career out of it. I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to getting my inner musings *just right*. In real life, I can ramble for hours trying to make sense of what’s going on in my head but here… with my internet friends… I want everything to be crisp as hell. Sadly, it means I drop a newsletter once every 5 months because perfection is a silly goal.
I’ve been in Mexico City by myself for eight days now but it feels like I’ve been here for three months. It’s my fourth time here and I’ve noticed that I started to take the city for granted. No longer do I ooo and aaah over every minor thing. I find myself complaining about the pollution or how long it takes an uber to drive 2 km. This place used to be paradise on earth for me — a city sprawling with greenery, fresh croissants on every block, and a general lack of urgency in the air. I’m usually tempted to move here forever but this round? I miss my ordinary ass life in Houston. I may regret saying this as soon as I get back home but for now, I love being a normie.
I went to a boat party on Saturday with the nomad crew and while I met a ton of interesting people (an Olympic 2x swimmer, the founder of a successful start-up, etc) I no longer care about those things the way I once used to — collecting interesting friends for the day only to never see them again. It’s truly so empty! For those who watched Yeh Jewaani He Dewaani, I’ve essentially moved from my Bunny era into my Naina era. Maybe next week I’ll think differently but solo travel can be isolating in a way that’s hard to describe.
I used to think I was destined for so much more than an ordinary life in the city I grew up in but now I’m not so sure! What if I want nothing more in life than to help my dad plant his new garden, play weekly jong with azzy, or walk around memorial park for 2 hours with my besties. Houston used to feel like a cage but now that I’ve spent so much time bip bopping around I’m so grateful to have roots somewhere. People often tell me that I’m living the dream but truly, the grass is always greener on the other side. While my life is cooler on paper I envy those who get to come home to a significant other who wants nothing more than to watch the latest Netflix drop in bed.
I turned 25 last week and this birthday trip has given me a lot of clarity. It’s easy to let childhood dreams guide your trajectory but we forget that dreams can easily be rewritten. Just because 17-year-old Iman wanted to move to New York and take over the world doesn’t mean 25-year-old Iman wants the same thing. Younger me would be shocked to find out that all I want is a nice apartment close to home and a quaint artisanal grocery store that doubles as a pilates studio. My dreams are a lot smaller than they used to be but I no longer view them as settling. Cheers to growth