You ever pause mid-sip of your morning coffee or during the lull of a Sunday afternoon to think about the things that quietly hold your life together? I’m not talking about the grand stuff like love, ambition, or Beyoncé’s catalog—though, honestly, shoutout to all three. I’m talking about the everyday essentials. The unsung heroes of the daily grind. The things that, if taken away, would make you feel just a little less… you.
These are the things I can’t live without. Not because they define me, but because they keep me grounded, inspired, and, let's be real, slightly more tolerable to the people around me.
Grab your coffee—or whatever gets you through the day—and let’s take a look at the items keeping my life (and, occasionally, my sanity) intact.
1. The Perfect Notebook: Where Chaos Meets Clarity
There’s something sacred about cracking open a new notebook. No, I don’t mean the fancy, overpriced leather-bound ones that make you feel guilty for ruining them with regular thoughts. I mean the mid-range spiral-bound beauty that’s durable but unprecious, begging you to scrawl everything from brilliant musings to grocery lists.
My current ride-or-die is a Moleskine Cahier journal. Thin enough to toss into my backpack and sturdy enough to survive the urban jungle that is Chicago public transportation. Every big idea I’ve written—whether a novel chapter or a metaphor I’m entirely too proud of—started with scratchy penmanship in one of these bad boys.
Much like a good relationship, a notebook doesn’t judge your mess. It just holds space for it.
2. My Grandfather’s Jazz Records: A Soundtrack for the Soul
Listen, streaming services are great… until they recommend yet another “chill vibes” playlist that is neither chill nor vibey. Enter my vinyl collection, passed down from my late grandfather. Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Billie Holiday—they don’t just play music; they tell stories.
When life gets loud, impossible, or downright rude, I put on Kind of Blue and let the trumpet do the talking. The crackle of the vinyl? That’s the sweet sound of nostalgia. It’s less about the sound quality and more about the quality of feeling—which, coincidentally, is a great relationship metaphor.
3. The Comfiest Hoodie: A Hug in Clothing Form
You’ve heard of emotional support animals, but let me introduce you to my emotional support hoodie. It’s oversized, soft in a way that defies the laws of textile physics, and carries just a faint whiff of the lavender detergent my mom always uses. (Yes, I steal her laundry recipes.)
If you’ve ever been ghosted on a dating app or had a bad day at work, you know that wrapping yourself in a hoodie can feel like your best friend saying, “You’ll get through this.” Mine is a classic gray Champion number I picked up during a college sale. Wear it enough, and it’ll wear you back into shape.
4. The South Side Church Picnic Folding Chair
To the untrained eye, this is just a $10 collapsible lawn chair. To me, it’s a front-row seat to memories of laughter, family, and some of the best potluck mac and cheese mankind has ever known.
This chair has made appearances at everything from block parties to poetry readings in the park. It’s collapsible convenience meets cultural significance. Plus, when my friends and I gather for impromptu porch talks about the latest neighborhood drama (or our equally dramatic dating lives), this little chair works overtime.
5. My "Break-the-Day" Coffee Routine
Before we dive in here: Don’t judge me, okay? This isn’t about caffeine addiction—it’s about ritual. Morning coffee is my reset button. It’s less “fuel for the hustle” and more “pause for the process.”
There’s something meditative about grinding the beans, listening as the kettle hums to a boil, and pouring a stream of liquid gold into my favorite chipped mug. (She’s battle-tested, like me.) Pair it with some morning sun streaming through my window and that first deep sip tastes like hope. Or at least like a passable excuse to start my to-do list.
6. The Books That Keep Teaching Me What Love Is
I can’t name just one, but I will say this: Any book by James Baldwin or Gwendolyn Brooks demands a permanent spot on my shelf. Baldwin taught me that love is raw, messy, and, oh yeah, political sometimes. Brooks taught me about resilience, beauty, and the poetry of everyday people—which, in a city like Chicago, is all around if you’re paying attention.
Books like these don’t just inspire my writing; they shape the way I show up in relationships. They remind me that love is equal parts honest conversation and quiet observation. And sometimes, it’s in the details the world overlooks.
7. My Aunt’s Sweet Potato Pie Recipe: Legacy, Baked Fresh
This one’s not easily replaced, but it’s also not meant to be. My aunt’s handwritten recipe for sweet potato pie lives in my kitchen like a sacred scroll. I’ve tried tweaking it to be “healthier” or “trendier” but… nah. The original always wins.
Not only does the pie taste like pure joy—it’s also my default offering at Friendsgivings, housewarmings, or the occasional “Welcome to the South Side” gesture for new neighbors. It’s the kind of thing you gather around, the way good relationships gather you when life feels all kinds of scattered.
8. The Walk to Think (and Feel)
Some people meditate. Some people vent in group chats. Me? I walk. Whether it’s along the Lakefront Trail or through the tree-lined streets of Hyde Park, there’s magic in putting one foot in front of the other.
Chicago has a way of wearing you down and building you right back up in the same breath. I lace up my sneakers, head outside, and let the city remind me that even the most chaotic days can give you clarity if you listen. Bonus: There’s always a great mom-and-pop coffee shop waiting at the end of the trek.
Encouragement from the Margins
Sure, you could look at a list like this and think, “It’s just notebooks and hoodies and pie. What’s the big deal?” But that’s exactly the point. Life—and love—isn’t just about major milestones; it’s about all the small things that hold us together.
Your essentials might look different than mine. Maybe it’s the earbuds you reach for when you need to drown out the noise or the text thread with your cousins that operates as a group therapy session. Whatever those things are, cherish them. They’re your lifeline on the complicated (but beautiful) road to connection.
Whether you’re battling dating angst, work stress, or just trying to figure out what your next step looks like, never underestimate the power of these little anchors in keeping you afloat. As the great Gwendolyn Brooks once said, “Live not for battles won. Live not for the end of the song. Live in the along.”
And maybe, just maybe, pack a folding chair while you’re at it. Even if life doesn’t give you a front-row seat, that chair will.
