The Morning Swell: Starting with Intention
My day starts early—too early, some might say, considering I’m not a tech mogul or a yoga visionary with a book deal. But 5:30 AM holds a certain magic. Santa Monica is still sleeping, the gray-blue haze of dawn just starting to peel away. I shuffle into my kitchen, where my French press sits waiting, whispering promises of caffeinated good cheer. And here’s my first ritual: I grind the coffee beans by hand. Yes, I know—there’s an electric grinder 20 feet away. But there’s something grounding about manually cranking those beans into submission. It reminds me of the relationships we cherish: good things usually require a little more effort, don’t they?

Once my coffee is brewing, I grab a blanket and step outside onto my balcony to watch the Pacific. The ocean is a mirror of life itself—sometimes calm and easy, other times a swirling mess, but always beautiful if you let it be. I don’t scroll through my phone during this time. It’s become a non-negotiable boundary for me. No emails, no Instagram. Just me, the waves, and maybe a nosy seagull or two. It’s my pocket of presence before the day pulls me in a thousand directions.

Pro-tip: Create a moment like this in your own morning, whether it’s listening to your favorite indie band (Fleetwood Mac is obviously timeless) or writing down a funny dream you had. Your mind deserves at least a few moments of peace before the chaos of notifications begins.

Midmorning: The Creative Hustle (In Sweatpants)
After breakfast—which usually contains an absurd amount of avocado because I’m a walking California cliché—I sit down to write. If I’m lucky, inspiration strikes like a lightning bolt. More often, though, it’s like trying to start a stubborn lawn mower. I stare at the blank screen, type and delete a few sentences, and consider whether I should pivot careers to pottery or goat herding instead.

Writing about relationships is a wonderfully ironic gig because no matter how much advice you dole out, relationships will always keep you humble. Take last week: I wrote about the importance of communication. The next day, I successfully misunderstood a friend’s text about dinner plans and showed up at the wrong restaurant. The Universe: 1. Chris: 0.

But I digress—writing isn’t just about typing words on a page. It’s also about listening to life. I take breaks to chat with the barista at my favorite coffee shop or compliment someone’s Great Dane at the park. These small moments are where the best material lives. Here’s where I geek out a little: there’s a concept in environmental science called "connectivity." It talks about how ecosystems rely on connections between species to thrive, and I think relationships are just like that. We grow better when we’re connected—to others, to nature, to ourselves.

Lunch Hour: Mixing the Mundane with the Quirky
By noon, I start thinking about food—not in a delicate, “Is it time for a kale smoothie?” way but in an “I'm absolutely having chips and guac with a side of existential craving” way. My lunch is a mix of practicality and indulgence. Some days, it’s a salad I convince myself is gourmet because I added goat cheese. Other days, I treat myself to tacos from the little spot down the road that looks sketchy but tastes like happiness.

Here’s a thing I’ve noticed about lunch: it’s more than just fuel; it’s a pause—midday punctuation. I like to use this time to unplug and daydream a bit. Where would I go if I could hop on a plane tomorrow? (Norway has been on my mind lately.) Which character from The Good Place am I most like? (Definitely Chidi, minus the bowties.) These mental wanderings often translate into better writing, and let’s be honest, better mental health.

If you want to sweeten your own lunchtime rituals, try spicing it up with a question to yourself: What if today were a date? What small thing would you do to impress yourself? Maybe it’s splurging on dessert or dressing up a little—even if, like me, you’re technically on a date with your laptop.

Afternoon Hike: My Love Language in Motion
Somewhere between 3 PM and the existential dread of late afternoon, I sneak out for a hike. Living in Santa Monica means access to trails that wind through chaparral hillsides, smelling of sage and ocean salt. Here’s my second secret ritual: I sometimes hike without headphones. The absence of music or podcasts feels countercultural in a world addicted to multitasking, but let me tell you—it’s a game-changer. The crunch of dirt under my boots, the faraway cry of a hawk—it’s nature at her most poetic, and it’s wildly clarifying. (Also, I’m less likely to miss spotting coyotes this way. Just saying.)

Hiking, to me, is like therapy—but cheaper and with better views. There’s something healing about moving your body through open spaces, especially after sitting hunched over a screen for hours. It’s on these hikes that I’ve had some of my best ideas and epiphanies—whether about my work or my personal life. Sometimes, it’s as simple as realizing I need to call my mom more often. Other times, it’s deeper, like redefining what I want out of a relationship. (Side note: I’m pretty sure nature wrote half of Steinbeck’s novels for him.)

Evening Rituals: Cooking, Connection, and a Little Chaos
Evenings are sacred, though that doesn’t mean they’re glamorous. I like to cook because it’s meditative (and because eating out in LA too often is a fast track to financial ruin). My go-to is some version of vegetable pasta—balanced, yet carb-heavy enough to keep me sane. Cooking reminds me of dating, but in reverse: instead of trying to impress someone else, you end up nourishing yourself. And sometimes there’s garlic involved, which is obviously a win.

I also make time for connection in the evenings. Whether it’s a long-overdue FaceTime session with a friend or grabbing happy hour with someone new, this is when I reflect on the day—and hear about everyone else’s escapades, too. In a way, these conversations are both research and relaxation. People, after all, are endlessly fascinating. The guy in my friend’s DMs who opened with, “Are you real, or did I dream you?”—he’s got guts, I’ll give him that.

Nightfall: Tidying the Mental Clutter
Before bed, I like to tie the day into a neat little bow—or at least try to. I journal, but not in a “Dear Diary, today was amazinggg” sort of way. It’s more scribbles than prose: what made me laugh, a snippet of dialogue overheard at the market, that time I crashed into my neighbor’s plant stand bringing my recycling out. It’s all fodder for future stories.

And full confession: I end my day with music. Not meditation apps or soothing whale songs, but my lovingly curated playlist of songs that make me feel like the hero of a deeply underrated indie film. Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams? Mandatory. Frank Ocean? Essential. Listening to music while lying in bed feels like an intimate act of self-care—the kind that’s indulgent but necessary.

Closing Thoughts: Finding Your Own Magic
My day isn’t glamorous, but it’s satisfying. It’s a mix of practicality, creativity, and a sprinkle of hedonism. And if there’s one takeaway, it’s this: relationships—whether with others or with yourself—are built in moments. Those small, cumulative rituals we return to over and over, shaping how we show up in the world.

So, find your own habits that make you feel alive. Whether it’s walking barefoot on the sand, eating tacos too often, or learning how to make your own pasta dough. Lean into these rituals unapologetically. The more you build a life you love, the more love you’ll naturally attract—and that, my friends, is a recipe for magic.