Caught in a New York thunderstorm, a suitcase on every floor, and the magic of living a big life.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again - probably with my last breath: I’m built to be on the move.

There’s something undeniably magnetic to me about trains and planes, packed suitcases, ticket stubs, and the rhythmic swap of hotel keys in different cities. It’s in these transitions that I feel most vividly myself. I haven’t slept in my own Los Angeles bed for more than a week since early May (and won’t until at least August), and honestly? I’m deliriously joyful. Exhausted, sun-warmed, thriving.

June wasn’t just busy - it was pivotal. Arguably the most transformative month of a year that’s already overflowing with growth, change, and quiet revolutions.

The month began in motion from the jump - wrapping the tail-end of two weeks back home, bouncing between my own bed, hotel rooms, and an ever-overflowing carry-on. That trip turned into the exact pause I didn’t realize I was desperate for. A grounded breath, a quiet heartbeat. A reminder that sometimes, the version of you that’s been struggling to land needs the kitchen you grew up in and the sound of cicadas at night to find her way back.

And then - New York.

I boarded a JFK-bound flight from LAX at six in the morning. After compression socks and plane journaling, I stepped directly off the subway and into a full-blown summer thunderstorm. Suitcase rattling behind me, freshly styled blowout soaked through, no umbrella in sight. It could’ve been a meltdown. Instead, it felt like a cinematic baptism: a messy, electric, cosmic initiation. As if the city herself had to drench me to my bones before I could receive the next version of myself.

From that point, it was magic. Four shows in two and a half days (details below). Sweating through an endless heatwave. Averaging four hours of sleep a night - in the best way. NYC restaurant staples and new foodie obsessions. Navigating Grand Central (have I mentioned my abiding love for trains?) to Greenwich, Connecticut and upstate New York for a friend’s wedding party. Spending the night tucked away in an unexpectedly stunning hotel that felt like its own film set. Early morning small-town strolls and gluten-free blueberry pancakes, followed by a Grand Central → LIRR → AirTrain → JFK → LAX journey that felt like its own cinematic arc.

I realized, more than ever, that this is how I’m meant to live. Awake. In motion. Fully immersed in the world. Sleeping somewhere different, waking somewhere new. My nervous system doesn’t settle in stillness - it exhales in transit. I’m more at peace when I’m deep in fresh experiences, perched on the edge of possibility. On long walks down humid city blocks, handwritten notes for NYC industry folks tucked into my tote bag like a modern-day Ingrid Bergman on a mission.

Walking through that thunderstorm felt like stepping into a new energetic frequency (yes, going full SoCal woo-woo). And the shifts didn’t stop once I touched back in LA.

I’ve made bold changes in my work: recalibrating my freelance client roster, releasing gigs that don’t serve the vision (or time commitment), and carving out intentional space for more aligned opportunities. Yes, freeing up time feels scary - but it’s also magnetic. Expansive. Liberating. And it’s working. I’m scaling my income in ways I’ve never experienced before, building a business that supports, rather than suffocates, my acting career. I’m onboarding new clients this summer (reach out here if you’re interested in social, branding, and marketing upleveling), and doing it in a way where my artistic career and my entrepreneurial gigs fuel each other rather than compete.

I finished The Magic for the third time, wrapped up a 15-day cleanse, and logged 12-mile days walking Manhattan streets, fueled by farmer’s market strawberries and decaf pistachio iced lattes from Blank Street Coffee. I reminded myself, over and over again, that the real magnetism is in how I show up - clear, grounded, and joyful.

I feel like I’ve been in a cocoon of inspired action all month. Every choice - from the mascara I switched to, to how I compose emails, to the no-holds-barred swings I’m taking in my career - has been part of a quiet metamorphosis. And now, as July rumbles into view, I feel ready to crack open the shell and emerge fully. Buzzing, rewired, clear. I’m feeling more like myself than I’ve ever been.

I’ll be traveling again next month (of course), but for now, I’m pausing just long enough to say - this life, this space, this version of me? I love her.

And if you’re reading this, wondering if it’s time to shift something, claim something, release something? It probably is.

Because the momentum you’re chasing isn’t something you chase at all.

You don’t chase it; you become it.

The Reads: My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Otessa Moshfegh, Great Big Beautiful Life by Emily Henry, A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway, The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith.

The Watchlist: A Woman Under the Influence by John Cassavetes, 28 Years Later by Danny Boyle, Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning by Christopher McQuarrie (if you know me at all), Overcompensating Season One, Slave Play. Not a Movie. A Play. by Jeremy O. Harris, and Grosse Pointe Blank by Richard Armitage.

The NYC Theatre Edit: Dead Outlaw, Sunset Blvd., Dilaria, and The Picture of Dorian Gray. (Dorian Gray might be the most breathtaking piece of theatre I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been privileged enough to see a LOT of gorgeous theatre in my life. Sarah was transcendent - funny, haunting, physically masterful. The conceit was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced from every level. It was like watching lightning take shape for two hours in real time. And this isn’t even coming from the bias of Dorian Gray as one of my favorite books.)

LA Theatre Edit: Take the Seventh Breath Twice at the Hollywood Fringe Festival (directed by my incredible mentor, Elizabeth Boykewich), and Hamlet at the Mark Taper Forum.

The NYC Restaurant Edit: Emmett’s on Grove, Buvette, Café Cluny, Rosemary’s, Friend of a Farmer. A Brooklyn farmer’s market, gluten-free goodies from Postcard, and Edith’s iced cafe slushie (frozen cold brew with oat milk and tahini… amen).

Mantra: The Universe already said yes.