Welcome to Everything in Excess

Life updates and a leap into my new(sletter)

Hello!! It’s been 1,060 days since I last emailed you beautiful people. At the time, my book had just come out, and I was navigating living on my own and attending college in person for the first time. Since then, countless nows have passed (to quote the great Richard Powers). And although I’ve fastidiously documented each one in my journal and mind, I've shared little online. Having posted much of my life on social media since early adolescence, I think I needed a couple years’ break to just live.

photo by Jackie Radinsky

Reflections on the teenagehood of a paleo food influencer

I started food blogging when I was twelve, and it was always more about the food than the blog. Having grown up with no screens, I knew very little about the internet and never really had the urge to learn. So for a few sweet years, I would get home from school, bake, post my recipes to my blogspot site, and call it a day. Glorious. But as social media began worming its way into our lives, it became clear that in order to run a successful online brand–be it a paleo food blog or anything else–one had to market themselves.

So, even at 15, I understood that my blog's success hinged on crafting an idealistic Instagram lifestyle image. As I tapped into this new thing called the "wellness" world, my celebrity idols became yoga influencers in their twenties with over twenty thousand followers who regularly posted handstands in their activewear, and gluten-free food blogger mothers who somehow managed to pump out new recipes every day (three times my output–and with three kids!)

In an effort to mimic these women who'd mastered the marketing machine, my high school self would post the “healthiest” parts of my day as an inspiration to my audience–think: bright blue algae-infused matcha, or perhaps some cacao nib-maca-ashwagandha power balls. Year after year, I crafted an image of myself for other people's consumption. The entire time, I was aware that this image wasn't my whole self, but the doppelgänger I imagined people wanted to see. And although I had no illusions about which girl was real–the pristine algae matcha one, or the goofy mess–I got considerably worried that my followers might get it twisted. I found myself constantly frustrated that I had to create any one image of myself in the first place–all in order to get people to click the link in my bio and make my chocolate chip cookies.

As I used social media compulsively (for my brand, I’d say), I was worried that my posts might make other people feel badly about themselves. The absurdity was never lost on me of a lanky preteen pushing body acceptance, or posting about meditation apps for "letting go of stress" as a financially-supported teenager. While friends and family assured me that I was adding a net benefit to people's days by posting "positive" content, I had the sneaking suspicion that social media makes us feel badly about ourselves, no matter what content we are consuming—because it is designed that way. But despite my misgivings, I continued to post. Because that's just what you do.

My whole life, I'd wanted to write a book. And the deeper I got into the Instagramming, the stronger my urge became to share my ideas in a non-digital form. With a book, I thought, I could communicate deep ideas without having to make them about myself or my brand. Over the course of five years and thanks to many strokes of luck, I actually wrote and published a book!! On top of it all, I had the good fortune of an agent and publisher who never tried to dilute or dumb-down the concepts. Just as I'd always dreamed, I was able to share heartfelt ideas, funneled straight from my head and into the hands of actual people all over the world. This felt incredible.

But, of course, at the time of publication I discovered that even after writing a physical book, social media is everything. Authors are expected to maintain a hyper-active presence at all costs. You have to publish TikTok after TikTok tying the book to your personal brand, so that followers hit that link in bio, and mayyyybe actually buy the book. And dear god, the lengths one must go to in order to get people to click that link have grown exponentially! A few years ago, a well-lit selfie was the best way to market. For today’s algorithms, we're expected to post a 15-second vertical video either sobbing while relaying an extraordinarily personal story—or buck naked.

Somewhere along the line, the thought of keeping up with the increasingly extreme algorithms became sickening. This, coinciding with going off for college, made me realize two things: First, I wanted to have the experiences of a college student, whether or not they fit with my online wellness persona. Second, I didn't want to share them with the public.

A wee life update

Throughout college, social media remained a part of my life (read: addiction), but I slowly weaned myself off of the constant urge to share. And that felt… amazing. Gradually, I found myself experiencing moments without subconsciously plotting when I'd post them on Instagram or what caption I'd use. I'd go on trips without sharing travel recommendations to my audience. Something exciting–or sad–would happen, and the only people I'd tell were my actual friends (!)

And now, I get to give you all the updates I haven’t been broadcasting daily into the ether, making it all the more fun. I recently graduated UC Berkeley and now live in the wild techno-state of San Francisco. Out here, I’m walking the hilly streets and definitely getting myself on every surveillance shit list as a result of faking out each self-driving car I see. Now that I’m no longer in school, I have a lot of new mental space for Thoughts, which is why I’m itching to share again.

I’ve come to realize that the desire to communicate our ideas to others is beautiful, and very human. But we need the right outlet—one that’s not trying to suck everyone’s time and soul. For years, I've been seeking a platform that’s in between a post and a hardcover book, where fleshing out concepts is more important than churning out shock-factor videos on a daily basis. Substack feels right. So here we are :-)

"Everything In Moderation"

Any way you cut it, salted Kerrygold butter was the inspiration for the excessive theme.

Surprisingly often, I'll drop a casual reference to my butter habit in conversation. And almost every time I mention eating cold slices of butter as a snack, I’m met with a nervous chuckle. “Oh god I like butter too…” they all begin. At this point I’m smiling and nodding along in stoic solidarity with this fellow butter fiend, but then there’s that inevitable, dreaded pause. Ah, here it comes… “… in moderation.”

This phrase has always rubbed me the wrong way, because health heroes and experts use it as a catch-all for the best way to live–thereby shirking the responsibility of giving actual lifestyle advice. Turns out, the phrase as we know it today is only half of the story. The original saying comes from Oscar Wilde, who, in the 1800s said: “Everything in moderation, including moderation." Hm. So, I guess this advice doesn’t apply to everything like we thought it did?

It’s ironic that our capitalist society normalizes overconsumption, yet cautions against enjoying some of the simple, innocuous joys in life. Here in the West, corporations love pumping out vast quantities of cheap, nutrient-less food and unnecessary material goods for global mass consumption, which we gobble up with few qualms. Our hours of social media scrolling and online purchasing and industrial cereal and glossy cosmetics and FOMO are all socially acceptable. Yet when it comes to the primal joys in life—say, a thick cold golden chunk of salted butter—we stop ourselves.

Wait. Don’t have that. You shouldn’t. Okay. Just one tablespoon. Everything in moderation.

We’ve been conditioned to unconsciously overload on things that make money for the machine. But at the same time, the machine makes us feel badly about our consumption of things that aren’t bad for us. It’s one way they guilt-trip us into buying their stuff. As an accidental teenage influencer, I saw first-hand how the wellness industry functioned by making people feel excessive about their choices—like just a little too much. All the successful influencers made bank by pushing restrictive diets and supplements and powders and regimes. And just like that, corporations have figured out how to suck our money and self-esteem under the guise of “health.”

What they don’t pressure us to consume are the free things in life—like time in nature, or communing with friends over music and food.

With this newsletter, I want us to ask ourselves: What if we took the most fulfilling, delicious parts of our everyday lives, and experienced them a little more?

Everything In Excess is an exploration of what it means to live abundantly through things like community, food, the outdoors, and offline interactions. (And butter.)

butter by Poppy Wilkins

In a time when so many of us feel deeply saddened by the state of the world—both the status quo and the way things are heading—it feels more necessary than ever to experience abundant connection and interpersonal joy. My hope is that this newsletter can act as a little nudge to seek out abundance in our daily lives, even in the subtlest ways.

So, every 1-2 weeks, I'll be sending out an email with thoughts, stories, songs, and seasonal food. No mysterious algorithms or hyper-speed videos, just thoughts and conversations straight from me to you, and back again. Please subscribe if you feel so inclined, and you'll get the newsletter straight to your inbox.

I am so excited to start this new chapter with you! Next week, our first foray Into the Excess…