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A few things living rent-free in my brain…

My internal clock is completely off. Gabriella’s Growth was neglected. The Edit was neglected. Posting? Never heard of her.

It feels especially ironic because this was also AI Week at work—and I was very much online there.

We were given the opportunity to pause our regular responsibilities, experiment with AI, and build tools our teams could actually use. They didn’t have to be perfect. The point was to stop overthinking, try something, and see where it could go.

And we leaned innnnn.

It reminded me that sometimes letting one part of your life become a little quieter gives you enough space to become excited about another part again.

Was my content calendar thriving? Absolutely not.

Did I feel completely revitalized by the end of the week? Weirdly, yes.

Anyway, back to the grind next week. 😂

Work hard.

Produce good work.

Become so useful that everyone eventually notices.

And yes, doing excellent work matters. Obviously.

But I’m becoming increasingly convinced that it’s only part of the job.

During AI Week, I worked on a prototype that brought different creative inputs, audience insights, and performance data into one place. The idea was to help teams evaluate campaigns before they launched, understand what was working afterward, and connect those insights more easily.

It was ambitious. It was not perfect. Some parts worked beautifully. Other parts were held together by optimism and aggressive troubleshooting.

But it solved a real problem.

Sometimes after several other projects had already been shared, when everyone had been sitting in the same meeting long enough to start emotionally preparing for lunch.

And somehow, people kept getting excited.

The project was highlighted across conversations with media, analytics, campaign marketing, customer marketing, and go-to-market teams—not simply because the work existed, but because people could understand what it might unlock for them.

That distinction has been living in my head ever since.

Good work matters.

But so does translating it.

So does storytelling.

So does knowing your audience.

So does building relationships before you need something from someone.

If I had to assign a completely unscientific percentage, I’d say doing strong work is maybe 60% of career growth.

The other 40% is whether people understand it, remember it, trust it, and trust you.

That doesn’t mean becoming the loudest person in every meeting or turning yourself into a walking résumé.

The people who excel aren’t always the people working the longest hours. Often, they’re the people who can connect the work to a larger goal, explain a complicated idea simply, and make others want to participate.

So yes, do excellent work.

It can’t.

A pale-yellow fitted set layered with an oversized denim jacket and finished with an ivory utility bag.

The matching base makes the outfit feel intentional, while the denim jacket keeps it casual enough for Texas days when I would like to be comfortable but do not want to look like I have formally surrendered. Also, because switching between hot outside and air conditioned inside is confusing for my body.

It’s easy, monochromatic, and requires almost no styling decisions—exactly the energy I need while my internal clock remains in another time zone.

Shop the outfit →

Shop the bag →

The mere exposure effect is the idea that repeated exposure can make something feel more familiar—and familiarity can influence how positively we perceive it.

Sometimes we become more comfortable with people, ideas, and things simply because we’ve encountered them more than once.

A large research review found that the effect is real but not endless; the results followed more of an inverted-U shape, meaning repetition can help until it eventually becomes too much. So no, this is not scientific permission to dominate every meeting until someone promotes you. 😂 Read the research.

The career connection feels pretty obvious, though.

If people consistently see you contributing thoughtful ideas, collaborating well, and delivering strong work, familiarity can make your value easier to recognize.

But—and this is important—familiarity is not the same thing as competence.

Visibility cannot rescue bad work forever.

The takeaway isn’t “make sure everyone sees you.”

It’s:

Give people enough opportunities to understand the good work you’re already doing.

In high school, I joined the rowing team—and candidly, I was terrible.

Like…truly not a hidden natural talent waiting to be discovered. 😂

I wasn’t the tallest person in the boat. I wasn’t the strongest. Things that seemed to click immediately for other people took me much longer to understand.

For a while, I thought the only solution was to work harder at becoming more like the naturally gifted rowers around me.

And yes, I did need to work harder.

But working harder wasn’t the entire answer.

I also had to get strategic.

I became extremely organized about practice. I paid attention to the tiny technical details. I studied where I was losing power, asked questions, and repeated the same movements until my body finally understood what everyone kept telling me to do.

If I couldn’t contribute by being the biggest or strongest person in the boat, I needed to figure out another way.

Technique became my advantage.

And eventually, I stopped trying to win by someone else’s strengths.

I started building my own.

I think about that experience surprisingly often at work.

There will always be someone who is more analytical than you. More technical. More experienced. A stronger presenter. A faster writer. Better with numbers. Better connected. Better at confidently saying something they learned approximately four minutes ago.

Maybe you’re the person who can take a complicated idea and make everyone understand it.

Maybe you notice patterns other people miss.

Maybe you’re incredibly organized.

Maybe people trust you.

Maybe you ask the question that changes the direction of the meeting.

Maybe you aren’t the person who builds the most technically impressive solution—but you’re the one who understands why it matters, gets people excited about it, and helps it actually go somewhere.

Basically, sometimes you don’t find the perfect role.

That doesn’t mean avoiding the things you’re bad at. Some weaknesses still need work—trust me, my rowing technique did not improve through positive affirmations alone.

But I no longer believe success requires becoming the best at everything.

If you’re looking for a cute double-date spot in San Francisco, this one wasn’t even on my list.

My husband picked it.

So naturally, I had to determine whether he gets to keep his restaurant-recommendation privileges.

We went to Fable in the Castro, and honestly…I get it.

The garden patio is adorable, the atmosphere feels relaxed without becoming overly casual, and it’s one of those rare restaurants where you can actually hear everyone at the table. Revolutionary.

We ordered the squash blossom empanadas, pork chop, roasted chicken, and steak bavette. The vegetarian empanadas were unexpectedly delishhhh, but the pork chop was probably my favorite.

They don’t serve hard spirits, but their espresso-martini-inspired drink was genuinely so good that I did not feel deprived.

After dinner, we wandered around the neighborhood for a bit, which ended up being one of my favorite parts of the night.

It felt like the kind of evening where nobody was rushing to leave.

Does Paak keep his recommendation privileges?

I’d say yes.

For now.

👉 Live list here

Side A feels like a dinner party hosted by friends who have much better speakers than you do.

It’s part modern American bistro, part vinyl-listening bar, with live DJs spinning everything from soul and funk to disco and reggae. The menu is playful and a little ridiculous in the best way—think a bone marrow burger, short-rib gnocchi, and a “garbage salad” involving pork belly.

Come for dinner, stay because the music is good and suddenly nobody at the table is checking the time.

👉 Live list here

Selene is a sprawling Greek seafood restaurant in SoHo with a glass atrium, pink velvet banquettes, terraces, and enough gorgeous design details to make dinner feel like a brief Mediterranean vacation. The menu centers on seafood and shareable plates, including whole fish and caviar-topped spanakopita.

👉 Live list here

Hidden behind a curtain in Silver Lake, Bar di Bello is a tiny, jewel-box Italian restaurant where the room reportedly feels like one big table. The osso buco with saffron risotto, classic penne, and a martini sound like the correct order—assuming you can secure the very competitive reservation.

👉 Live list here

There was a place on Solano Avenue in Berkeley that made Thai tea smoothies when I was in high school, and apparently I have been chasing that exact experience ever since.

I found one at Bubble Tea Factory in Boerne, Texas—because yes, I’m still out here, friends—and it was sooo good.

Thick. Icy. Sweet. Slightly nostalgic.

Apparently regular Thai tea is no longer enough for me.

Bubble Tea Factory →

Phoebe Bridgers has been promoting new music through surprise shows announced with physical flyers, followed by performances where attendees lock away their phones.

Naturally, this intentionally offline campaign has become an enormous online conversation.

The internet simply cannot handle knowing something happened without receiving seventeen shaky videos from the third row.

The deeper nugget is that the mystery may be doing more promotional work than a traditional flood of content ever could. When everything is immediately available, access stops feeling special. Phoebe made access scarce—and suddenly everyone wanted in. Her upcoming tour is continuing the phone-free rule, using locked pouches during performances. WIRED covered the unconventional rollout, while Pitchfork reported from the phone-free Madison Square Garden show.

It’s giving Taylor Swift wedding.

As someone who unintentionally disappeared from the internet this week, I would like to clarify that mine was not an innovative marketing campaign.

I was just in Texas with no concept of time.

Thanks for spending a little part of your week with me!

See you in Issue No. 19. 🤎