• On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog.
• That's even more true on social media platforms, which allow anonymous users to rile up other users.
• Elon Musk supercharged this idea when he bought Twitter. So it's no surprise that a lot of big accounts there turned out to be overseas trolls.

Breaking news from the everything app: Not everything you see on the everything app is real.

This is not news to you, of course: You are a savvy internet user.

But lots of other people seemed to be shocked to learn that some high-profile accounts on X, the app formerly known as Twitter, are not who they say they are: A new feature on the app lets you see (more or less) where people are posting from, and it turns out that lots of X accounts that position themselves as very interested in American politics and culture are coming from places like India, Thailand and Eastern Europe.

In my version of the internet, this unmasking is suffused with partisan glee, as folks point out "America First" or MAGA accounts that seem to be being made by people very far from America.

But the real surprise isn't where these accounts are posting from — it's that anyone's still surprised.

We've known forever that people like to misrepresent their identity online. Sometimes it's for lolz, sometimes it's for safety reasons. Sometimes it's a state-sponsored effort to destabilize a foe.

But the primary reason to type stuff under a fake name is money: The internet can turn outrage into clicks, and clicks into pennies, and if you do it enough, those pennies can add up.

Yes, the Russian military tried to influence the 2016 election by screwing around on social media. But a bunch of Macedonian teenagers were ginning up fake Facebook posts during the election, too — so they could direct traffic to ad-filled blogs.

"Yes, the info in the blogs is bad, false, and misleading but the rationale is that 'if it gets the people to click on it and engage, then use it,'" one of the teens told BuzzFeed.

There was lots of hand-wringing and investigating into disinformation and the like after the 2016 election. That energy has dissipated, but the core issue remains unchanged: Internet platforms that give users an incentive to reach people and rile them up will find lots of users trying to reach people and rile them up. And that incentive structure may be particularly appealing to people in countries where a few pennies go a long way.

And when Elon Musk bought Twitter in 2022, he didn't try to fix the problem at all: He accelerated it by creating a new system that paid Twitter users directly for creating engaging posts. He got what he paid for.

Still, it's too easy to see an opinion you don't like online and assume it's the work of an overseas troll farmer. Rage-bait works because it highlights divisions that already exist.

Which means what happens on X — or anywhere else on the internet — isn't necessarily fake. The money is real, the reach is real, and the effects are real, even if the people posting aren't who they claim to be.

But it's also not a reliable map of what people actually think. Most people don't post on social media at all. A handful of accounts — some real, some not — produce the noise that the rest of us mistake for consensus. This weekend's depantsing is a reminder to treat all of it with more skepticism, not to tune it out completely.

• A federal judge has temporarily blocked OpenAI from using the term "cameo" in the Sora video app.
• US District Judge Eumi K. Lee's ruling lasts until December 22.
• Cameo, the personalized video company, sued OpenAI for trademark infringement.

OpenAI may have to go back to the drawing board to name a core feature of its popular AI video generation app, Sora.

US District Judge Eumi K. Lee has ruled that OpenAI cannot use the word "cameo," or any other similar name, tied to the use or promotion of its Sora app, until December 22.

The AI company named a feature on the TikTok-esque app that creates a linkness of the user, a pet, or even an object in the app "cameos." On October 28, Cameo, the personalized video company, filed a trademark suit against OpenAI in federal court in California to stop it from using the word.

As of late Monday morning, OpenAI was still using "cameo" on the Sora app.

Lee wrote in her ruling that OpenAI is likely infringing on the trademark held by Cameo, known for allowing users to pay for personalized videos, often recorded by celebrities.

"Defendants' only argument to the contrary is that the requested injunction would 'harm OpenAI's ability to successfully launch its Sora app and other Sora 2 functionality,'" Lee wrote in a ruling issued on Friday. 'However, Defendants' harm arises from its own likely infringing use of a federally registered mark."

Cameo CEO Steven Galanis on X called for OpenAI to move swiftly to adhere to the judge's order.

"It's critical that @OpenAI adheres to Judge Lee's Temporary Restraining Order ASAP to prevent further irreparable harm to Cameo's brand and IP," he wrote, adding, "30% of all @BookCameo videos get created between Thanksgiving and Christmas so time is of the essence."

OpenAI said it looks "forward to continuing to make our case to the court."

"We disagree with the complaint's assertion that anyone can claim exclusive ownership over the word 'cameo,'" an OpenAI spokesperson said in a statement to Business Insider.

Lee has scheduled a hearing for December 19 on whether the temporary block should be made permanent.

Thanksgiving is one of the busiest travel times of the year. We visited Qatar's Hamad International and Singapore's Changi airports to see how they stack up. Between branded experiences and massive art installations, countries are pouring billions into their airports, vying to be named No. 1 in the world.

• When my dad sent me an email with the subject line, "Estate info," I cringed.
• But when my dad got ill just months later, the file became crucial.
• Creating a "when I die doc" is a powerful gift for those we leave behind.

When an email from my dad with the subject line "Estate Info" popped into my mailbox, I cringed.

My parents have been transparent about their estate planning for a long time — perhaps partially because when I was in my 20s, my younger brother died unexpectedly, and I became their only surviving child. When I was in my 30s and starting a family of my own, my parents even invited me to a planning meeting with their estate attorney.

Unfortunately, I needed it just a few months later, when my dad died 10 days after being diagnosed with cancer.

My dad chose his inheritance with his siblings

My dad comes by this pragmatic approach honestly. His parents, my grandparents, once invited their adult children over to choose which pieces of artwork they'd like when my grandparents died. A morbid spin on an art show, perhaps, but my grandparents felt strongly that allowing their children to participate in choosing their inheritance would make future life a smidge smoother.

So in 2019, when my dad sent me that email entitled "Estate info", I didn't welcome the email with open arms, but it also wasn't out of the blue. My dad was 74 and seemingly healthy at the time, and since his parents had lived to be 89 and 94, I figured I'd tuck the info away until some blurry future day when I needed it. Which I did end up needing.

My dad died on Father's Day

In an unfun twist of fate, the day after my dad died happened to be Father's Day. Instead of celebrating him and my husband over brunch, I was 3,000 miles away from my husband and kids, living out of a suitcase, revisiting the brutal physicality of grief, the way it feels like something had been ripped out of my chest.

While my world felt as if it'd ground to a halt, bureaucracy slows down for no one. My mom and I had to let people know my dad had died. We needed to choose a mortuary and contact my parents' attorney and financial advisor. We needed to order death certificates to bring or send to banks, life insurance companies, and utility companies.

Those days were a haze of shock, decisions, and tasks. While my dad's file didn't soften that feeling in my sternum, I often pondered how much worse it'd be if we'd had to embark on elaborate treasure hunts for important documents and information.

I wish I could thank my dad

The file my dad sent me contained all the information we'd need as we settled his estate, including:

• My parents' Social Security numbers
• A list of all bank accounts
• The physical location of important documents, like life insurance policies, house deeds, and other files
• Passwords
• Information on auto, home, health, and long-term care insurance
• Information on retirement benefits
• Information on a financial advisor
• Information on an estate attorney
• Information on advance care directives

It's been over six years now since my dad died. As I revisit that estate document, I'm struck by how much thought he put into creating it. I can picture him sitting at his kitchen island, pecking away at his laptop, trying to make sure he'd included every single bit of information we might need. He'd thought through everything — he'd even included the location of a document with biographical details we could use while writing his obituary.

Contemplating his own death in such detail couldn't have been pleasant. But he did it anyway. I think about the discomfort I'd felt when my parents openly talked about their estate plans, and I view it differently now. It's not fun to talk about death, but what's even less fun is when someone dies and the people left behind have to figure it all out — while grieving.

I've come to see my dad's file as what it was — a continuation of the steady love he'd been giving me my whole life. One last way, even after he was gone, that he could father me.

The longest government shutdown in US history hit air traffic controllers hard. Thirteen thousand worked without pay for over a month, taking up jobs driving for DoorDash and Instacart to survive.

But staff shortages in US control towers go back decades before the shutdown. Despite being fatigued and overworked, the remaining controllers hold thousands of lives in their hands every day.

Why is directing planes one of the most challenging jobs in the world? And why are there so few left to get passengers safely on the ground?

• Jony Ive said the device he's working on with OpenAI will be available in less than two years.
• Ive and OpenAI CEO Sam Altman remain mostly mum on what the mysterious device will be.
• Altman said he wants the device to feel vastly different than what's currently available.

Sam Altman and Jony Ive say they want OpenAI's mysterious device to be so irresistible that you might be tempted to eat it. But the pair recently revealed that at least one attempt wasn't that appetizing.

"There was an earlier prototype that we were quite excited about, but I did not have any feeling of, I want to pick up that thing and take a bite out of it," Altman said during an onstage conversation last week with Ive moderated by Laurene Powell Jobs at the Emmerson Collective's DemoDay. "And then, finally, we got there all of a sudden."

Altman said it was Ive who came up with the unusual-sounding test.

"I remember he said once early on, we'll know we have the design right?" Altman said. "I don't remember whether he said, when you want to lick it or take a bite out of it, or something like that."

A later prototype, Altman said, "finally got there."

Altman and Ive have continued to stay mostly mum about the details of OpenAI's long-awaited consumer device, which led the frontier model maker to team up with Ive, the legendary iPhone designer. After persistent prodding, Ive told Jobs that the OpenAI device will be available in "even less than" two years.

In May, OpenAI announced that it was buying Ive's AI hardware startup, IO, for roughly $6.5 billion. The pair also revealed that they were collaborating on a "family of AI products." Consumer devices are just one of the many industries OpenAI is trying to disrupt.

When people see their device, Altman said he hopes their reaction is, "That's it."

"Like it is so simple, but then it just does, as we were talking about, AI can do just so much for you that so much can fall away," Altman said. "And the degree to which Jony has chipped away at every little thing that this doesn't need to do or doesn't need to be in there is remarkable."

Altman said that he and Ive want their device to spark joy, a feeling he contrasted with how using current devices feels like "walking through Times Square" as users are bombarded by notifications.

"I understand how we got here, but I don't think it's making any of our lives peaceful and calm and just letting us focus on other stuff," he said.

Ive said that the best-designed products come with a "sense of inevitability" that belies the amount of thought and care that went into their creation.

"I can't bear products that are like a dog wagging their tail in your face, or products that are so proud that they solved a complicated problem, they want to remind you of how hard it was," he said. "I love solutions that teeter on appearing almost naive in their simplicity."

• My mom and I went to Italy to celebrate her retirement and tried to avoid the most touristy spots.
• We skipped popular cities like Florence and Rome and visited smaller ones, like Ravenna and Padua.
• They were relaxing and had few crowds. Next time we're in Italy, we'll visit other smaller cities.

When my mom retired, I wanted to celebrate with her in a big way. She wasn't interested in a traditional retirement party, so we planned a vacation instead.

Traveling with my mom has been one of my favorite ways to spend quality time together. Since we live on opposite sides of the country, it's a great way for us to see each other and explore the beautiful places around the world.

Since we had such a great trip to Italy last year, we decided to visit the country again for her retirement vacation. This time, however, we opted to skip the big cities in favor of less-popular destinations.

Rather than visiting places like Rome, Venice, and Florence, we traveled to smaller cities, like Padua and Ravenna.

By going off the beaten path, we hoped to find a more authentic Italian experience away from the crowds — and that's exactly what happened.

Cities like Rome and Venice can get overwhelmingly busy, but Italy has so much more to offer

When I brought my mom on her first trip to Italy last year, we prioritized visiting many of the country's main attractions, from the ancient ruins of Pompeii to St. Mark's Square in Venice.

Yet my mom's favorite moments from that trip were far away from the busy tourist areas. She enjoyed visiting crowded places like the Colosseum, but preferred our four-night stay in Sicily, where we had a peaceful getaway in Cefalù.

She loved sipping espresso in peaceful piazzas, strolling the waterfront promenade at sunset, and shopping at local markets.

Compared to the hustle and bustle of Rome, Cefalù's small size and lack of crowds was a breath of fresh air.

So, when I planned her retirement trip, I looked beyond the best-known destinations. I searched travel blogs for the "best day trips" from cities like Milan, Bologna, Venice, and Rome.

I wanted to find small cities with convenient access to the country's biggest airports and train stations, as this would make it easier to travel from place to place.

After some research, I booked stays in the small cities of Ravenna (about 50 miles from Bologna) and Padua (just over 20 miles away from Venice).

Not only do the cities have convenient access to Italy's major transportation hubs, but they also offer plenty of historical and cultural sights to discover.

We loved the quaint, local feel of Italy's smaller cities

Throughout our trip, I felt confident that we made the right choice by skipping Italy's big cities.

Our first stop, Ravenna, is known for its fifth- and sixth-century Byzantine mosaics.

My mom and I were awestruck by sites like the Basilica di San Vitale, which features floor-to-ceiling mosaics with spectacularly intricate designs.

Ravenna welcomes a lot of tourists, but most seemed to be visiting on day trips from nearby cities, such as Bologna.

Many of these tourists left Ravenna as the afternoon hit, leaving a local feel on the city's streets by evening. There were few crowds, and we never had to make dinner reservations — not even in the middle of the historic center.

In Padua, we encountered a similar scenario. Sites like the Basilica of St. Anthony and Scrovegni Chapel were busy in the morning, but most tourists seemed to be gone before it got dark.

Since Padua is only a 30-minute train ride from Venice, I also assume most visitors were on day trips.

As crowds dwindled in both Ravenna and Padua, my mom and I spent our evenings trying local cuisine and sipping cocktails at outdoor bars.

We loved tasting Ravenna's famed cappelletti pasta, and never missed an opportunity for an Aperol Spritz, which originated in the city of Padua.

Visiting smaller cities gave us the best of both worlds, and I'd do it again

Italy is among the most visited countries in Europe.

For context, Venice alone typically receives well over 10 million visitors a year. (Though growing in popularity as a tourist destination, Padua sees a fraction of that.)

There's merit in visiting super-popular places like Rome and Florence on your first trip to Italy. After all, sights like the Sistine Chapel and Duomo are world-famous for a reason, and you could spend weeks in each city without running out of things to do.

Yet for my mom and me, the downsides of these big cities outweigh the benefits.

Though the attractions are noteworthy, they're often overshadowed by overwhelming crowds, especially during the peak summer season, which coincided with our trip in late May.

Visiting Ravenna and Padua, on the other hand, gave us the best of both worlds. We made wonderful memories together while exploring each city's historical attractions, and loved spending quiet evenings wandering around picturesque city centers.

Next time we visit Italy, we'll be sure to skip the big cities again to discover even more of the country's lesser-known destinations.

• I compared apple pie recipes by Martha Stewart and Ina Garten.
• Garten's crust called for shortening and used more citrus.
• I preferred Stewart's pie for its taste and the simplicity of its preparation process.

Apple pie is a fall staple, but if you're anything like me, you've stuck to buying it from a grocery store or a bakery.

Ahead of Thanksgiving, I decided to try baking an apple pie from scratch, but as a novice baker, I didn't know which recipe to use.

So I decided to try two from cooking icons who know what they're talking about: Martha Stewart's Old-Fashioned Apple Pie and Ina Garten's Deep-Dish Apple Pie.

My official review? Making apple pie is not for the faint of heart. But if you're feeling ambitious, read this, learn from my mistakes, and make sure you have all the kitchen gadgets required.

Here's how Ina Garten's and Martha Stewart's apple pies compared.

The first step of any good pie is the crust. These are the ingredients I needed for Stewart's recipe.

Her recipe called for flour, butter, sugar, ice water, and salt.

The next step was to mix the flour, butter, sugar, and salt in a food processor.

This is where I hit my first roadblock. My food processor wasn't big enough to fit all of the mixture, so I had to split it up and do multiple rounds of the mixture.

The recipe said to mix until it looked like "coarse meal" — I think it looks pretty accurate.

I then slowly mixed in ice water. Using cold ingredients like ice water and chilled butter helps keep the dough flaky for baking.

Since it would've been too difficult to portion out the water in the smaller food processor, I combined it all in my standing mixer.

After mixing in the water, I split the dough into two halves and put it in the fridge to chill.

That's for the top and bottom crusts. The recipe instructed that I should flatten both halves into discs.

This crust was pretty firm even before I put it away to chill. It didn't stick to the cutting board at all.

Next, I made Garten's crust.

Garten's recipe is similar bar one ingredient: It calls for flour, ice water, sugar, salt, butter, and shortening. I used Crisco.

The process was essentially the same, but this dough was much stickier.

Maybe it was the addition of the shortening; maybe I added too much ice water; maybe I made some other rookie mistake — but this dough was sticky.

I had to coat my hands in flour to get it out of the bowl and off the mixing tool.

I covered the cutting board in flour to counteract the stickiness of this dough.

It took a few minutes for me to successfully roll Garten's dough into a ball without leaving too much behind on the cutting board.

The Barefoot Contessa's recipe didn't say I should split the dough in half before chilling it, so I kept it in one ball.

I let them chill in the fridge overnight.

I decided I didn't have the mental fortitude to attempt making the pies on the same day, so I gave myself a full night to prepare.

The next day, I began making the filling for Garten's pie.

Both recipes recommended using Granny Smith apples, since they're firmer and don't get mealy when heated up.

Garten's recipe said to use 4 pounds of sliced apples. Thankfully, I had a food scale, otherwise I would've been eyeballing it. I ended up using nine large Granny Smith apples.

Next, I added spices and other flavorings.

I needed:

• A zested lemon
• A zested orange
• 2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon of fresh orange juice
• ½ cup of sugar
• ¼ cup of flour
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• ¾ teaspoon of ground cinnamon
• ½ teaspoon of ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon of ground allspice

Thankfully, I have a manual juicer, otherwise I would've been in trouble.

Here's what it looked like when it was mixed.

I was concerned the orange zest and orange juice would make this taste a bit too citrusy, but I trusted the process — I was sure the Contessa would not lead me astray.

This is where things started to go wrong. The crust was simply too sticky to roll out.

It may look good here, but let me tell you, I thought this was going to be the death of me.

I had to use what felt like a gallon of flour to make sure this wasn't getting stuck to my hands, the rolling pin, or the board. I couldn't believe that after nearly a full day in the fridge, it was still this soft.

Once I finally got it to a good size and texture, I couldn't get it into the pie dish. It was sticking to the board.

My only solution was to put the dish on top and then flip it over.

Flour was everywhere. But at this point I was so frustrated that covering my kitchen with flour was a price I was willing to pay.

But wouldn't you know — even after flipping it upside down, the crust was still partially stuck to the cutting board.

It took a couple of tries, but I eventually got the dough inside the dish. I piled the apples on top.

Although I was concerned there were too many apples, I had come this far following Garten's recipe and it was too late to turn back now.

Anyone who can perfectly crimp a pie's edges is a personal hero of mine.

I will never understand how people make this look easy. My crust was simultaneously too thin and not big enough.

If I stretched the top any more, the apples would start poking holes. But there wasn't enough to pinch the top and bottom together.

At some point, I gave up and brushed it with the egg wash (one egg and 1 tablespoon of water beaten together) all over, and sprinkled it with sugar.

This was not my finest work.

The pie baked for an hour and 15 minutes at 400 degrees.

To put it simply: It's not great looking. But I was excited to see how it tasted. Who cares if it wasn't at bakery quality?

Unfortunately, it didn't taste good either.

After letting it sit for a couple of hours, I excitedly dug in.

Besides the extreme sogginess of the bottom crust, which I know even the most experienced bakers have trouble with, I thought the orange taste was overpowering.

And unfortunately for me, I don't like orange-flavored things. So when I bit into this apple pie and it tasted like an orange pie, I almost gagged.

Once I got over the initial orange-forward flavor, I thought the crust and the apples tasted good. I especially liked a slice paired with vanilla ice cream.

But overall, I was not pleased with how this turned out.

I waited another day before attempting Stewart's recipe, which called for 12 apples.

After making Garten's recipe, I felt like I had been standing for two hours. My back couldn't take baking another full pie.

So the next day, I spent 10 minutes peeling, coring, and slicing 12 apples — three more than I had used for Garten's recipe.

I have to admit, for both Stewart and Garten's recipes, I probably should've cut the apples into smaller pieces, but I was already so tired from using the slicer that I just couldn't face any further work. Lesson learned!

The ingredients for the filling in Stewart's recipe were a little different.

This recipe called for:

• 2 tablespoons of flour
• ¾ cup of sugar
• The zest and juice of one lemon
• 1 ½ teaspoons of cinnamon
• ½ teaspoon of nutmeg
• A pinch of ground cloves

In other words: Compared to Garten's recipe, it contained less flour, more sugar, no oranges, more cinnamon, and cloves instead of allspice.

Neither bowl was big enough for me to toss the apples effectively, so I split them.

This is something writers like to call foreshadowing.

If Garten's dough was too sticky, Stewart's was a bit too firm.

Still, this experience was better. I'd take getting a workout while rolling dough over making a mess of my entire kitchen with flour and sticky dough any day.

In order to have a reasonably sized pie, I ended up having to ditch around two or three apples.

I should've known that I wasn't going to be able to fit all the apples in my pie dish, but I was still annoyed at the waste.

This recipe called for 2 tablespoons of butter to be cut and spread out on top of the apples before putting the top crust on.

When it was assembled, I thought it was way more recognizable as a pie, at least to me.

After I brushed this with the egg wash, crimped the edges, dusted it with sugar, and cut vents in the top, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.

My first pie attempt wasn't even solid enough to cut vents into.

I breathed a sigh of relief when this came out of the oven.

It baked in the oven for an hour at 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

Is this the perfect-looking apple pie? No. But it's definitely better than my first try.

This was a lot less soggy, but also more hollow somehow.

After letting it sit for an hour, I cut into my pie. I was surprised to see how hollow the top was. It's possible I should've created bigger vents for steam to escape the pastry.

However, thankfully, it wasn't as soggy as my first pie.

I preferred the taste of this pie much more than Garten's recipe — this tasted like apples and cinnamon and sugar, not orange.

As my dad noted after taking a bite, it might not look great, but it tasted how it was supposed to.

If I had to recommend following one recipe, it'd be Martha Stewart's. But if you're a novice baker like me, honestly, I'd stick to store-bought.

I can confidently say I never want to bake apple pie again, and I definitely never want to make my own crust again.

If you prefer a tangier apple pie, then I'd say Ina Garten's is the one for you — just make sure you have buckets of flour on deck.

But if you're looking for a more classic sweet apple pie, go with Martha Stewart, although both pair deliciously with vanilla ice cream.

This was a challenge for me, someone who considers themselves an OK baker at best. This Thanksgiving, I'll be sticking with my Stop and Shop pies, thank you very much.

How tall could we really build? After a century of competition, skyscrapers are reaching new extremes: Saudi Arabia's upcoming 1-kilometer-tall Kingdom Tower in Jeddah is set to triple the Empire State Building's height. In this episode of "The Limit," we climbed inside the hidden parts of the world's tallest towers and talked to the people who built them to ask: What would it take to build a mile-high tower? Who would pay for it? And why do we keep reaching higher?

• I lived in New York City for three years, but decided to return to my hometown Upstate.
• I don't miss the small living arrangements, cost of living, and hustle culture in NYC.
• However, I do miss things like the city's walkability and world-class experiences.

I always knew I'd live in New York City, and when the time came, I made the most of it. During my three years in the city, I experienced world-class entertainment, explored hidden gems in every borough, and built my dream career as a writer.

But last year, when I decided I was ready to start a family and (finally) save money, there was only one place I considered moving to: Rochester, my hometown in Upstate New York.

Do I ever catch myself wishing I could walk through Central Park on my way to a Broadway show? Of course. But do I also remember why I left when I load groceries into my car instead of schlepping them 10 blocks in the freezing rain? Absolutely.

Here's what I miss the most — and the least — about life in the Big Apple.

I miss New York City's walkability and convenient public transit.

On my first day of work in Manhattan, I decided to walk an hour from my apartment on the Upper East Side to my office in the Flatiron neighborhood, simply because I could.

On weekends, I'd amble aimlessly from street to street and avenue to avenue. I'd window shop in Midtown, photograph the brownstones in the West Village, and stroll through community gardens on the Upper West Side.

And when I wanted to explore boroughs farther away, there was the subway. For $2.90, I could try a new Greek restaurant in Astoria, take a trip to Coney Island, or enjoy an award-winning mochi doughnut in Williamsburg.

Today, I drive wherever I need to go. But in NYC, a swipe of my Metrocard was like a portal to another world.

I miss NYC's world-class experiences.

There's nothing quite like knowing the best food, culture, and entertainment are right outside your apartment door.

The city could satisfy whatever I was craving, whether it was hand-pulled noodles or delectable chocolate chip cookies.

When I needed to fill my night with unbridled laughter, I'd buy a last-minute ticket to the Comedy Cellar. For a quiet moment to read and write, I'd visit my favorite third place, the New York Public Library.

If I felt like being transported back in time, I'd snag a seat and a cocktail at one of many iconic jazz clubs, like Village Vanguard.

And all the world-renowned art museums, musicals, and talks at bookstores and cultural centers, like the 92nd Street Y, made my ridiculously high rent worth it.

I miss the abundance of career opportunities.

In my opinion, New York City is the mecca of creative careers, and as a writer chasing a variety of opportunities, I knew living there would set me up for success.

The steady stream of job listings proved that my dreams weren't so far-fetched — in fact, they were in demand. As an advertising and media hub, I thought it was the perfect place to pursue copywriting and journalism roles. And I knew that if I ever wanted to transfer my skills to another industry, I could do that, too.

Although Rochester boasts a growing startup scene, along with several marketing agencies, I plan to continue working remotely for global brands based in NYC for now.

On the other hand, I don't miss the pricey mixed drinks (and all other expenses).

As someone who believes they deserve a little treat every day, I know how quickly these "luxuries" can add up, especially in the city, which ranked as the 10th most expensive place to live in the US in 2025-2026 by US News & World Report.

For example, a cold brew from my favorite neighborhood café in the city costs $7.50 before tip — now it costs me just $4. Plus, a cocktail with a view of Lower Manhattan could easily come with a $32 price tag.

I also found that everything from a grocery run to a standard haircut costs more in New York City.

I'm happy to have left the small living spaces behind.

When I moved to Manhattan, I was lucky to score a beautiful apartment in a pre-war building — but what I didn't take into consideration was the massive rent increases each year.

With a large dog and plans to start a family, I knew it was time to trade our one-bedroom unit for a four-bedroom house.

Now, I have a backyard, a nursery for my baby, a dedicated office, and a spacious kitchen to cook and entertain — all while spending approximately $1,500 less each month.

I don't miss the hustle culture.

In my experience, a thriving career in NYC came with a cost: a lack of work-life balance.

Success required sacrifice — I found that long, often stressful hours were expected in order to climb the corporate ladder. As passionate as I am about my career, I want to work to live, not live to work — and my current role allows me to do so.

Although my employer is based in Manhattan, I work from the comfort of my own home, enjoying all the flexibility this brings.

Overall, the unforgettable years I spent in NYC brought me where I am today. There's no city like New York City, but there's no home like a hometown.