Sunday, January 29, 2012

my happiness project

I've always been someone bound by swinging moods and nostalgia. [And I've always figured that comes hand in hand with being someone who likes, or wants, to write.] During my latest downward swing, I booked a last-minute flight home to Florida to spend some quality time with my 'rents, in 80-degree weather while NYC was hit with the second snowfall of the very-up-and-down winter season.

I was surprised, during one of my Facebook-lurking sessions, to find that a girl I once worked with who is gorgeous, rich, seemingly successful at an awesome company that immerses her in
the life of Manhattan socialites and, to boot, was currently on vacation in St. Barth's, was reading a book called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Why could this girl possibly need to read anything on the subject of happiness??

Obviously, I immediately went out and picked myself up a copy. The book starts:
One April day, on a morning just like every other morning, I had a sudden realization: I was in danger of wasting my life. As I stared out of the rain-spattered window of a city bus, I saw that the years were slipping by. "What do I want from life, anyway?" I asked myself. "Well...I want to be happy." But I had never thought what made me happy or how I might be happier.
That felt like a very universal realization to me--something that I've been thinking about more and more over recent months, even the past year. Something, I guess, even a girl who looks to me has everything, might find herself thinking, too. So, that is where I am, now. Reading The Happiness Project and thinking how might I be happier... You might have guessed that, like Gretchen, I'm hoping spilling my guts to the blogosphere will be part of the answer.

I think one of the reasons I come and go so much from the fashion-blogging scene is that I'm afraid to show too much of myself, which really makes it all very limiting. That's because, as my boyfriend might say, I'm too cynical. Or, as I like to say, I'm exercising an appropriate amount of realism. If I really am who I am, it's possible I might say the wrong thing. It's possible that wrong thing may be found on a google search of my name by my current or prospective employer. It's possible I'll be kicked to the curb and left on the streets and end up homeless over a blog post!! Of course, all these other people seem to be doing all right. And, if I keep acting like this, I'll never know if I could've been Tavi-kid-genius or Man Repeller, the girl whose greatest gift [and money-making machine] is being herself through and through.

So, there it is, and here I am. I'm someone who really likes her parents and likes to go home just to spend time with them. I'm someone who likes to drink margaritas at lunchtime with her mom. I'm someone who would rather go to an ocean side art show or antique-hunting than lay out and get a tan [+ wrinkles, ladies]. I'm someone who loves Bukowski, but maybe a little less now that he's considered cool instead of slightly creepy. I'm someone who really can't keep up with all the tweets and the posts and the today's-outfit-taking, but because I've always wanted to will try anyway. Also, this is all sounding a bit cheesy, but I'm not someone who is cheesy. I am, as the boyfriend says, someone who is pretty cynical, so please don't let this scare you off.

Until next time..

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