You know what’s funny? I’ve spent the better part of my adult life chasing the dream of efficiency. I’m that person who installs browser extensions to save two clicks and feels smug about it. I’ve fallen for the “this will change your productivity forever” pitch more times than I care to admit. And honestly, the whole industry is built on a massive, unspoken lie. Last month, I decided to track how long it took me…
There are a lot of terms I could use to describe myself last week, but I most definitely messed up. I made the amateur choice of checking my bank statement, something that is only marginally better than going to a dentist’s office or dealing with cyber money. What It revealed was just border lining what I would classify as poor financial planning: I had over 17 subscriptions that were all rapidly draining my funds with…
So there I was, surrounded by approximately fourteen billion individually wrapped ingredients, a 27-step recipe card that somehow required both a saucepan AND a skillet (why??), and a ticking clock reminding me I had exactly 37 minutes until my next Zoom call. The kitchen counter looked like a produce section had exploded. My recycling bin was already overflowing with tiny plastic bottles and miniature paper bags. And I had just realized the “45-minute easy weeknight…
Like with all modern tragedies this starts off with the same cliche phrase- optimism. And when I say optimism, I am referring to the unearned target that never quite gets acheived. “I am going to pop into FLATPACK FURNISIHNGS right now,” I claimed to myself. “After Saturday’s dinner, I will be picking up a bookshelf I have been looking for. It should take no longer than an hour, if that.” Initially, my assumptions were way…
I’ve always had this complicated relationship with the mirror. Some days, I gaze at my reflection and think, “Yeah, not bad!” Other days—which, let’s be honest, happen more frequently—I stand there cataloging every perceived flaw like I’m taking inventory at a shop of insecurities. For as long as I can remember, my stomach has been the main character in this little drama. Too round, too soft, too… present. It’s been the target of my harshest…
I used to think taking out the trash was one of life’s simplest activities. You put stuff in a bag, you take the bag outside, you forget about it. Done. A toddler could manage it. Hell, my neighbor’s criminally stupid Labrador once dragged an entire garbage bag out the doggy door and down the street. Even he understood the core concept: garbage goes away from living space. Then my building installed what the property management…
I should probably start this with a confession. I’m the proud owner of what my girlfriend has sarcastically dubbed “the Museum of Fitness Optimism” – an ever-growing collection of exercise equipment that enters my home with fanfare and eventually blends into the background like oddly shaped furniture. Last week, she nearly tripped over the resistance bands I’d left curled up like synthetic snakes on the living room floor. “For God’s sake, Ben! Another casualty for…
There was a period, not so far back, where relaying information was much more difficult than it is today. You would draft a letter, get an envelope, place a stamp, and physically make the effort to post the letter. The effort itself guaranteed that you would not squander your precious words on nonsense statements. “Just alerting you that I have noticed your letter,” would have never justified itself as a statement on its own. Now?…
It started with my girlfriend Mei’s peace lily. The thing was practically begging for mercy, drooping like a sad puppy despite her religious adherence to watering schedules and optimal sunlight exposure. “I think it’s clinically depressed,” she announced one morning. I glanced up from my coffee and the half-dissected clock radio parts scattered across our kitchen table. “Plants don’t have nervous systems. They can’t technically be depressed.” “Then why does it look like it wants…
I’ve always found it a bit ironic, you know, the way I obsessively check how many likes my meditation selfie gets. There I am, cross-legged on my yoga mat, eyes peacefully closed, caption reading “Finding my center #innerpeace #mindfulness” – and then I spend the next two hours refreshing the post to track its performance. God, that’s embarrassing to admit. But let’s be honest here – I’m not alone in this weird contradiction, am I?…