I don’t know if this is just me — and it may very well be — but sometimes I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. This experience runs a range from extremely exciting (who the F am I to be invited to attend fancy events like, say, the Opera in Rome, and on top of it, borrow fancy clothes to wear to said events) to somewhat painful (It is my job to talk to developers about evolving our CMS and how we plan to do that incorporating java script? I am so clueless on that front that it is likely the aforementioned question does not even make sense.) Lately, I am feeling much more of the latter pang than I am the former delight. And because I like to think that I am a living, breathing organism that represents the ethos of Man Repeller, I do not take lightly the monthly themes we set in place.
As it is Get Your Shit Together month, one thing I have been focusing on somewhat acutely is getting my adrenals together. As in, pooling together as many endorphins as humanly possible and emanating their effect everywhere I go. (E.g., if you are to see a glitter trail on a downtown New York sidewalk, my hope is that you’ll assume I was recently there farting sparkle because I am so damn happy.) In order to achieve this utopian level of euphoria, I have instituted a small practice that I’m calling The Happy Diet, wherein I have done exactly one thing each day this week to accommodate my most hedonistic pleasure bone and exactly nothing else.
Monday’s pleasure might be regarded as foolish by the world’s pragmatists, but I don’t care — I hauled ass from Bowery where I live to a tiny, seedy coffee shop that sells a disgustingly delicious almond-flavored coffee on 81st and Broadway near a doctor of mine, with whom I did not have an appointment. I read the paper on the 35 minute train ride over then sat there with my coffee, read some more of it, and came back downtown to work. It was such a fiery way to start the week.
Of course, stresses piled up as they are wont to through the progression of Monday (I had to interview four contractors to determine which one would build the conference room in our new office space, and how do you measure how good a contractor is, really?), which is why Tuesday’s happy was punctuated by making an important decision. Following work, I planned to attend a workout class and yes, sure, while working out is medically proven to pump endorphins out of your pores, you know what is not but feels spectacularly indulgent in a much more satisfying way? Skipping the damn workout, going home, ordering sushi and taking a bath with a glass of red wine in your hand. I listened to six-year-old music by the band Matt & Kim and asked myself: if this isn’t nice, what is?
On Wednesday afternoon, I was forced to take a phone call with a lawyer who has been asking me questions that I don’t understand about financial documents, “dragging,” investment details and equity. These are not conversations that come naturally to me. In fact, I zoned out three times thinking about a leopard print skirt. Following the one hour and 36-minute-long conversation (absolutely soul-crushing when you’re being billed for time you don’t want to spend doing something), I stepped out for a brisk walk, called a close friend I had not seen since February because life has been in our way, invited her to meet me for fro-yo at Forty Carrots and there we spoke about life and relationships and our feelings for 33 minutes before I returned to work high on life, full on cheesecake-flavored ice cream.
Because I had nothing planned for Thursday, I surmised on Wednesday night that I would wake up an hour earlier the following day to provide for myself a) ample time to meditate (sometimes it is really fucking hard for me to just sit down and do it but I have insofar as never regretted it), b) read a chapter of this book I’ve been working through for about two weeks — it’s boring because it’s like business school in hard cover, but makes me feel productive when I can get through stuff — so that c) when I dipped back into the pages of last week’s WSJ Magazine, I wouldn’t feel as guilty. The final reading material led me to discover this brand called Alumnae. I plan to obtain these at some point.
And as for Friday — reliable Friday! Because, as you know, an approaching Saturday is the world’s greatest state of mind to be in, I don’t quite feel like I need to do much. (At the time of this writing, it’s Thursday at 1:53 p.m.) That said, though, I do plan to leave work a little bit early, meet my grandmother at a cafe on the Upper East Side and drink a shitload of wine with her (she is a lush, what can I say?) until we can’t even remember what we’re talking about. By the time night falls and I’m ready to call it quits, I will surely remember the previous week — through the calls with contractors and lawyers and the inputting numbers in Excel — as the Best One Ever.