Good Days

I see people I love. I laugh a lot. I eat good food.

If I was asked to speak about the best day of my life, I’d choose December 30, 2020. I woke up early to go to Target with my sisters. It was very cold. We joked around and didn’t argue once and got Starbucks on the way back. It was one of those sunny winter days, and the light came through our big living room windows. I baked a big 3-layer chocolate cake and wrote a poem while it was in the oven. My best friend came over and we talked about books while I finished icing the cake. My dad came home with a Trader Joe’s bag full of stuff to make homemade pizzas for dinner. I remember what I was wearing, that my hair looked nice. I think I cried a little before I went to bed, just because I was happy.

That’s it. For a while, I thought back to it feeling silly, because it was probably a very average day through the eyes of many. Did that make me abnormal? Was there something wrong with me? It didn’t, and there wasn’t. Nothing special happened, but still, the day was special. I saw people I loved. I laughed a lot. I ate good food. I felt like myself and that’s what made it a good day.

By Jim Holland

There’s a TikTok trend going around where people film a clip of themselves every day and rate each day out of 10. I tried it this week as an experiment. Tuesday was the low of my week, a 3/10, but Thursday was a 10/10. The rest hovered between 5/6/7. Here’s what I did on Thursday: I woke up around 11. I booked my flight home for the spring. I got chairs delivered for my dining table. I went to Southbank Book Market with a new friend and we had pancakes for lunch. I bought lavender fig jam. I met another friend at a bookstore. We got McDonald’s for dinner and talked in my apartment for three hours. I saw people I loved. I laughed a lot. I ate good food. That’s all it is, every time. How lucky I am.

Judith Viorst writes in “The Pleasures of Ordinary Life”:

I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair.  A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to think that the “best days of my life” have to include something big, like getting married or starting my dream job. So far, it happens like this: three points for a good dinner. Two points for nice weather. One point for stepping on crunchy leaves. I calculated it like that. Not every day was 10/10, but none of them were 0/10. There was always a pleasure. It felt weird to analyze my days, but it helped to count the good things rather than deduct all the bad things. On the lower days, I was motivated by knowing the next day would be a blank slate. Every day is a new day, and every day could be 10/10 by the end of it. It’s worth taking the chance. I guess that’s what we live for.

Further Reading

"A Good Day" by Kait Rokowski (CW: suicidal ideation)

Night Walk by Franz Wright

On The Back Porch by Dorianne Laux

---

What I Enjoyed This Week

Recent Reads

• “Don’t Tell Me to Despair About the Climate: Hope Is a Right We Must Protect” by Morgan Florsheim for Yes! Magazine. I spend a lot of time thinking about the climate crisis these days, because I am told I have to. It’s everywhere. I do what I can: I take public transport, I limit my meat and dairy, I try to avoid plastic. But I still end up feeling dejected because most of it is out of my hands. Florsheim argues that there needs to be a culture that “fosters self-care alongside activism”, a perspective that I really appreciate. The climate crisis is ongoing. And, also, a bird is building a nest in the eaves outside my window. Come spring, there will be new birth. In shaky hands, I hold these two truths together.

• “Poem” by Ron Padgett: If you’re here — / and if you relax / for a moment / your back / and other parts / will arrive / and you can be / together, / with yourself, / a little happiness. I have been thinking about the idea of waiting for myself, giving myself extra time to get out of bed or walk to the bus stop, waiting until I can settle into my body. There’s no rush.

• The Departure by Denise Levertov. That childlike wonder of trying to possess what cannot be possessed. It makes me think of the lassoing of the moon from It’s a Wonderful Life.

Other Wonderful Things

• The Anthems podcast. Someone recommended this to me — each episode is voiced by an artist or creator who reflects upon a single word. They’re all under 10 minutes, so I’ve liked listening to one in the mornings as I have breakfast. I think about the word from my own perspective as I go about my day. I like “Stillness” and “Nostalgia” best so far.

• The French Dispatch (d. Wes Anderson). This was my return to the cinema, since watching Little Women in January 2020. It was a very warm welcome back. I love Wes Anderson’s films, and this one warmed all my insides in the same way as most of his work does. The colors were beautiful, the plot was charming and simple. I left in a daze.

• The Royal Academy of Arts Summer Exhibition. This was an overflow of art, often displayed floor to ceiling, sent in by average people and patrons of the Academy. Everything was new and different and I really enjoyed it. My favorite pieces were by Fredrick Cuming, who gently displayed the moon in his soft landscape paintings.

• This song, this song, and this song. Added to the playlist!

Thanks for reading. Wishing you many 10/10 days to come.

<3

Tara