There are exactly two kinds of people.
People who hear a carefree pop song and think, “Oh, that’s catchy.”
And people who suddenly want to buy popsicles at 10 p.m., text the group chat “meet outside in ten,” and dance in the kitchen like the floor has been professionally waxed for absolutely no reason.
I aspire to be the second person.
Not because I secretly want to throw a celebrity-sized house party.
Mostly because somewhere between becoming an adult and learning words like mortgage and tax deduction, I accidentally started behaving like every fun decision required approval from an invisible committee.
Can I wear the ridiculous sunglasses?
Can I have pancakes for dinner?
Can I go for a walk even though I don’t have a fitness goal attached to it?
Can I buy flowers just because they look like they belong in a coming-of-age movie?
Who exactly am I asking?
The International Association of People Who Think Beige Is Exciting?
I’d like a refund.
Somewhere We Started Scheduling Joy
Remember when fun used to happen by accident?
One person yelled, “Come outside!”
And suddenly twelve children were inventing a game with rules that changed every thirty seconds.
Nobody made a spreadsheet.
Nobody optimized the experience.
Nobody measured their cloud-watching streak.
Now?
We schedule “quality time” three weeks in advance.
We need the right outfit.
The right weather.
The right playlist.
The right mood.
Meanwhile, summer is standing outside tapping its foot like,
“Are we doing this or not?”
the playlist that feels that way
I Think We’ve Been Waiting for a Life That Already Arrived
One day I realized I’d become weirdly good at postponing happiness.
I’ll relax after this project.
I’ll start living when work calms down.
I’ll read that book when life gets less busy.
I’ll invite friends over once my house looks like a Pinterest board instead of… whatever this is.
That’s adorable.
Life keeps happening while we’re waiting for the deluxe version.
What if this is it?
Not in a scary existential way.
In a wonderfully freeing way.
Maybe the random Tuesday deserves a soundtrack too.
Heres what i did on a random gloomy Tuesday recently: I’m up in the clouds
The Kitchen Is a Dance Floor. I Don’t Make the Rules.
Some songs have this magical ability to convince you that your hallway is a runway and your mop is a microphone.
You know the feeling.
One minute you’re putting away groceries.
The next you’re performing for an audience consisting of a houseplant and a confused pet.
That’s not embarrassing.
That’s civilization.
I don’t trust anyone who’s has never dramatically spun around while making pasta.
Those tiny ridiculous moments are suspiciously good for the soul.
Incidentally, this dance workout became my favourite memory
Go Dance With a Stranger…
…or don’t.
Maybe dance with your best friend.
Dance with your grandma.
Dance with the cousin who always says yes to terrible ideas.
Dance by yourself while waiting for the kettle to boil.
The point isn’t who you’re dancing with.
It’s remembering that not every joyful moment needs to become a perfectly curated memory.
Some moments are allowed to exist just because they made Tuesday significantly less boring.
Honestly?
That’s enough.
Your Inner Child Has Been Sending Passive-Aggressive Emails
Subject:
“Checking in.”
Dear Adult You,
Just wondering why we’ve replaced catching fireflies with checking notifications.
Also curious why buying bubble solution now feels “impractical.”
Respectfully,
The kid who once believed a stick could become a pirate sword.
P.S. We’d still like to build a blanket fort.
Every summer I become convinced my younger self had better priorities.
She understood that sprinklers were an event.
Lemonade deserved fancy glasses.
The longest route home was obviously the correct one.
And if music came on…
You danced.
End of discussion.
Embarrass the Algorithm
The internet desperately wants you to become a more efficient human.
Wake up earlier.
Optimize your mornings.
Track your habits.
Measure your sleep.
Count your steps.
Wonderful.
Now here’s today’s challenge.
Do one thing that cannot be tracked.
Lie on the grass.
Watch clouds.
Buy peaches because they smelled amazing.
Take photographs you’ll never post.
Read outside until the pages start curling from the humidity.
Laugh so hard somebody from another room asks what’s happening.
Good.
Keep them guessing.
Throw Tiny Parties
Not birthday parties.
Tiny parties.
An iced tea party for one.
A watermelon-cutting ceremony.
A sunset appreciation committee.
An evening dedicated entirely to making terrible playlists with unnecessarily dramatic names.
Nobody is stopping you.
Except maybe your own brain.
Mine occasionally says,
“Shouldn’t you be doing something productive?”
To which I’d like to reply,
“I am.”
I’m producing memories.
This Is Your Official Permission Slip
Actually, forget permission.
That’s the whole point.
Nobody is coming to hand you the perfect summer.
Nobody is arriving with a clipboard saying,
“Congratulations. You’ve now earned spontaneous joy.”
You have to steal it.
Steal the long walk.
Steal the extra scoop of ice cream.
Steal the hour spent doing absolutely nothing useful.
Steal the sunset.
Steal the dance in the kitchen.
Steal the playlist that makes your living room feel like the happiest place on Earth.
Because one day you’ll look back and realize the best parts weren’t the expensive ones.
They were the wonderfully unnecessary ones.
The laugh that lasted too long.
The friend who stayed until midnight.
The song that made everyone sing the wrong lyrics with complete confidence.
The popsicles at 10 p.m.
The kitchen concerts.
The walks that accidentally became adventures.
That’s the life I want.
Not perfect.
Not aesthetic every second.
Just gloriously alive.
So if today’s a random Tuesday…
Treat it like summer invited you to the party.
It already saved you a spot.
the nostalgia series
25 tiny nostalgia things before smartphones
Nature walks and summer traditions (2005 much?)
15 summer joys that cost less than a latte(bored and broke?)
my favourite summer activity: ‘the grind’ aerobics workout
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