The Optimism Experiment

embonpoint asked: I think that this is such a great... thing/idea/project(?). Even though I'm young and not really in a quarter-life crisis kind of situation, I've recently felt the need to de-clutter my life and sort myself out and this is really inspiring.

I wish you lots of luck :) :) :)

Thank you! I need constant well wishes and friendly thoughts to keep me on track.

Anonymous asked: 25. In most countries that's a life sentence. I guess I've lived a lifetime according to the judicial system. I thought I'd be so much further by now. I thought I would have accomplished more. LIVED more. I've left a trail of burned bridges and a few fragments of relationships in my wake. I should have fallen in love more. I should have fallen in love less. I wish I'd spent more time in the light of sunrises and sunsets rather than the computer screen and it's 'sleep' mode. I wish I'd reached out to more people even if the connection was forced or awkward at first. I thought I'd be stronger on my feet by now- sure-footed, sea legs intact. I wish I'd spent less time living vicariously through characters in movies and stories and more time finding out the perks of being young and relatively unattached anything. I wish I'd spent less time online reading blogs; that I'd realize sooner that my Facebook friends weren't my real friends- maybe then I wouldn't be profusely and earnestly typing confessions to people anonymously because I have no priest or confidant. I wish I'd spent less time saving face and caring how I came across to people. I wish I'd been more foolish but not reckless. (Though I have a world ahead of me, and I often waste copious amounts of it-) I wish I had more time. More time to people-watch and flirt with the eyes of impossible potential lovers. To stand and small-talk in pleasant company albeit uncomfortableness of first impressions. To see a smile spread across an acquaintance's faces- for eons. I wish I'd done more. If this were an unwitting epilogue, what what would the story before have to show? 25. 25. 25. A life sentence. To be able to set myself free.

I’ve kept this one in my inbox for a while. I’m not sure what kind of response to give, so I’ll just put it here and let it stand on its own.

Maybe anonymous just wanted to get some things off their chest? That’s fine by me.

imapixie asked: let me just begin by saying that your tumblr nogreatillusion is lovely. i get a rush of delight when i see you've posted something pretty or profound or wistful.

i am also a transplant from a small town (in pennsylvania, just south of elmira, ny), and from reading your entries, i feel our experiences in coping with being in the city are very similar.

that being said, i think I remember reading that you used to dance... i was wondering if you've ever tried yoga. in a city that is so isolating, i've found going to the gym merely adds to my feelings of alienation and embarrassment. I found that a yoga class has the structure that i was used to in dance without the pressure to perform, not to mention a very warm and welcoming sense of community. trust me, you never feel alone in a yoga class - we all look really silly together. ;)

i also found it easier to stick to going to a scheduled class rather than trying to discipline myself into alotting a set amount of gym time on my own. there are several cheap yoga options around, and if you get through the first couple of days of feeling a little lost/sore/awkward, you'll not find a more fun way to take care of your mind and body.

Hi! I know I’m responding to this ages after you sent it, but please know that I read it when you did and appreciated it. I’m just terrible at responding.

I’ve done one (hot) yoga class, but I wasn’t really won over by it. We did some yoga/pilates in my dance classes when I was in high school, and while I think it has a lot of great toning, strengthening, relaxing benefits, I don’t think it’s the best route to go if you’re looking to shed pounds. That said, you’re probably right about the discipline of the group dynamic and I’m thinking about getting myself to some classes offered at my gym, including (but not limited to) yoga.

Thanks so much for you input! 

Day 48 (I think?): Your Blog Is Not Your Life Coach

Here’s the thing - I’m willing to admit that not all experiments can be successful. This one obviously has been something of a failure. I haven’t kept up with any of the things I wanted to. I’ve actually been working even more hours than I was a month and a half ago - generally about 55 hours per week. Toss in a 40 minute commute twice a day and an inclination to sleep at least 8 hours a night, and I’m pretty much booked solid. 

It hasn’t all been crying on the subway though. I’ve started going out a lot more after work, exploring all the bars/diners/late-night mexican restaurants that Soho has to offer. I’ve used my weekends wisely on trips to the beach and the high line. I have visited more neighborhoods, met some new people, and tried half a dozen margaritas.

But I still haven’t really achieved a balance. I still don’t feel happy in a peaceful way. The truth is I feel happy sometimes and then sick-sad and tired and defeated. I feel messy and terribly human. I can’t remember the last time I felt confident. I am not myself.

So, the goals are going to need tweaking and the plans, revising. Here’s what I’ve learned about halfway through this project:

- You are not superwoman, a robot, or a celebrity with a personal trainer and gaggle of professionals. You can’t do everything, and you will only let yourself down if you expect to.

- Go out any chance you get, as long as you have the energy - don’t worry if it fucks with your plan for getting up in the morning and going to the gym. Having fun is just as medicinal if you know your limits and stick to them.

- Never plan your night out. Don’t do shots. Don’t respond to men on the street who ask if they can talk to you for just a second.

- Don’t read too many exercise-centric magazines.

- Don’t eat anything you don’t like.

- Forget the treadmill. It will still be there when you’re ready for it. The gym is more than just the treadmill.

- Throw things away. Clear it out. Your apartment is small: make enough space for your life.

- You will carry these things with you: insecurities, guilt, anxiety. Don’t let anyone make you feel weak for allowing yourself to feel them. You care. That’s important.

- Love your weekends, love yourself.

Day WhateverTheFuck

I’ve been drowning myself in mental to-do lists, emotional guilt-trips, and self-esteem shredding sessions. 

I can’t keep up with this experiment, which in turn has made me feel worse about all of the things I was hoping to fix. As soon as I get on track with one thing, I find myself slipping somewhere else. I can’t really even have fun anymore without reminding myself of all the things I should be doing instead. 

I don’t know how other people work this many hours and still have a life and clean apartments, and healthy dinners, and good relationships. How do they have hobbies? How do they have children? The phrase “a juggling act” is such a euphemism. It makes it sound like trying to deal with a million tasks at once is goddamn trip to the circus. It’s not and I don’t know how to do this anymore.

For the record, I’m still not giving up on this. There’s still a part of me convinced I can do it all. 

Pin Up Girls

So, my days off have been changed again, which means that Saturdays are now my Mondays. Do you know how depressing that is? It means everyone on the internet is writing about their awesome weekend plans while I mourn the death of another weekend and try to gulp down the awful lump of dread in my throat.

Today I am particularly Not Looking Forward To Work, which means I took my anxiety as an excuse to skip the gym and eat cold pizza and Ciao Bella chocolate smores for lunch, which are basically very fancy ice cream sandwiches. What can I say? I go hard.

I console myself with the fact that my apartment is freakishly tidy from yesterday’s cleanathon 2011, after which I even managed to squeeze in a half-assed workout and a trip to the grocery store (hence the ice cream sandwich smores). 

Maybe it’s time to kick my motivation up a notch? Should I start posting pictures of back in the day Britney Spears on my fridge or invest in some of those masochistic workout tapes where a drill sergeant woman orders me to perform more crunches OR ELSE? I don’t know. I don’t know if I could take it, considering the fact that my eyes welled up with tears yesterday when a sixty year old man gave me an exasperated arm gesture because I was standing in his way and couldn’t make up my mind about which direction to cross the street. I’m not exactly a strong person, right now, in case the ice cream sandwiches didn’t already make that clear.

Honestly, insanely toned Britney doesn’t really do it for me either. I don’t want abs of steel! Really! Muscles aren’t my thing. I also recognize that these curves aren’t going to disappear, and I’m fine with that. Maybe I just need some (slightly) more attainable inspiration. For that, I turn to this chick:

I don’t know who she is, but damn. She looks amazing. She also looks like she enjoys the occasional cold pizza for breakfast. 

Inspiration #2 - The Rocketeer Era Jennifer Connelly

I maintain that this was Jennifer’s heyday. It’s almost shocking when you realize how few Hollywood women share a similar physique these days. Now, obviously I have a long way to go before I can even begin to compare myself to JC’s pre-diet days. But it feels more achievable than the idea that I’ll wake up in a few months in Cameron Diaz’s body if I just put down the pizza slice. 

UGH. YOU GUYS.

Maybe this blog is actually an experiment in how many times a day I can quietly say “Get it together, Caroline!”

Today:

Woke up almost on time.

Ate some cheese and strawberries.

Eventually successfully got undressed.

Tore through all my drawers for work clothes. Everything moderately appropriate is wrinkled or covered in a thick layer of lint. 

Skipped the goddamn gym for the millionth time.

Noon: still not dressed, showered, or started on the dishes in the sink. (Not just today’s dishes. Let’s be real, here.)

It’s hot. I need A/C. My days off changed again. I worked seven days in a row last week and then left for the weekend for my sister’s bridal shower. I have more excuses than I have wrinkled cardigans and that’s saying something.

Anonymous asked: Hey, don't be so down on yourself! At the risk of making a cliched but oh so true statement it takes a lot of courage to admit to yourself (and others) that your life isn't necessarily going the way you want it to and that you need to make changes for the better. I mean look, you're a gorgeous woman, a very talented writer, you live in New York City and you have a steady job, so i say just start with those four things and go from there. Who said turning things around in your life was an overnight process? I know it can be easy to get frustrated but these things take time. So chill out, have a glass of wine (or drink it straight from the bottle, as i sometimes prefer) and if it takes more than 100 days, so what! At least you're making an effort. :)

I hope I haven’t given the impression that I’m totally defeated, yet. This blog should probably be entitled The Honesty Experiment, because that seems to be what’s really at the heart of it right now. I’m trying to be entirely honest about how hard it is to get up early and go to the gym and get enough sleep and keep your house clean and be a damn adult all the time. It’s DIFFICULT! Managing your life is hard stuff. And I probably have more mood swings than most.

Everyone has days where they feel unsuccessful. Where none of their old clothes fit and their job kicked their ass and that trip to the gym is just not gonna happen. I’m working on getting to a place where this isn’t every other day for me. 

I’m fully aware that this is going to be tough. Probably tougher than I thought it would be. Thanks for your encouragement, and I am two steps ahead of you on the wine. 

Reason #78 Why I Should Probably Go To The Gym More Often

Today I strained a muscle in the back of my neck while trying to remove my sports bra.

I am suddenly, profoundly aware of how every movement I make involves a painful turn or tilt of my head.