We all have those people we follow on social media whose lives seem so… pleasant. Every day, their story is filled with aesthetic snippets of their coffee, notebooks, or the graphic design on their vintage t-shirt. When they go on a walk, they don’t just go on a walk; they go on a walk on a perfectly leaf-covered path in funky sneakers and perfectly placed retro headphones. Or the times I’ve read Joan Didion and she beautifully described even the dullest details and noticed everything, the color of the fabric on a couch or the yard of a home. I’ve always wondered why I didn’t live like that. Why wasn’t my life as memorable as theirs?
A couple of weeks ago I tried to romanticize the mundane. We’ve all heard it on TikTok, romanticize this and romanticize that, but I’d never actually gone out to seek that sort of comfort or enjoyment from tedious and unpleasant things. Impossible, I thought, how could I possibly romanticize taking out the trash from the four shared bathrooms in my house to fulfill my weekly chores? Or studying all week, only to get a low B on a midterm and have it bring my grade down a million percent. Working shift after shift only to blow through my money in a matter of two days. Because this is my everyday life, and the point was to make life more enjoyable — right?
So I started to do just that. In the morning, when I woke up and all the bathroom stalls were taken, it wasn’t the start of a bad day. No, instead, I was thankful that I even had the opportunity to live amongst so many interesting people — just another silly quirk of life at the co-ops. The color-filled hallways, full of unfinished murals and purple carpets that were once light blue, were cool and edgy — how many other people get to live in a house full of so much vibrant life? During midterm week, when I had no time for myself or anything, and would spend every free hour studying, my room got pretty messy. But I wasn’t lazy and it wasn’t gross — it was “girl messy” and Sophia Coppola would agree. Of course, I wouldn’t believe in most of this, but I did try to see the positive in every situation.
Somewhere along the way, it got less and less silly. Things that would normally ruin my day seemed less tragic. I took a bus home for a weekend, all 375 miles to Los Angeles, and it was fine, but things quickly took a turn for the worst. During my bus ride back to Berkeley, the actual bus broke down — completely — in the middle of the freeway. The cars around swerved in a classic Fast Five manner and honks were heard from every direction. Thankfully no one was hurt and the driver was able to start the bus back up just to make it to the nearest exit where we waited for the mechanic, for hours and hours, in 90-degree weather. While this would have normally been enough to send me into the worst mood I’ve been in all year, it surprisingly wasn’t that awful. I got to know many interesting people. We all walked 15 minutes to the nearest gas station to buy snacks as the driver was cracking jokes. Now this is a very specific scenario, but it applies to everything I experienced in college.
The ordinary parts of my day seemed better, more exciting. Walking to class, making yourself breakfast in the morning, going on a morning walk in your pajamas, doing homework, in-person exams, taking the bus to work — all of these things seem so much better when you appreciate them instead of making them yet another tedious item to check off your to-do list. They compose student life, which I only have so much time to experience. It’s much more relaxing to be okay with the imperfect.
A stain on your shirt? It just shows it’s been lived in. Misplaced your favorite pen? You needed a new one anyway; it’s the perfect weather to walk down College Ave. and visit the stationery store. They’re all just bits and pieces of life.