Too often, adult life can feel like an undeserved stream of one minor catastrophe after another. On Monday, you had an important meeting with your Executive Director, so you decided to take extra care with your make-up, only to find out too late that what you thought was a good copy of a ‘subtle everyday highlight and contour!’ youtube tutorial in fact made you look like a demented panda. And maybe on Wednesday, you had a hot date with a cute girl, so you dropped your car off at the car wash only to have it returned reeking of fried fish and old feet. Or, perhaps on Thursday, you found yourself in a puddle of helpless tears, because after spending 3 frantic weeks working to get an important business proposal to your (please God!) investor, your computer crashed taking with it all the facts and figures you need.
Your mother lied to you when she said that hard work always pays off – what she ought to have said instead was that hard work sucks, but is made bearable by all the well spent Saturdays, Sundays and, work permitting, gleefully reckless Friday nights.
So. Shake off life’s sucker punches. Find yourself a pitcher of strong liquor and dive head first into it. Look about you for another human and gift them with a smile. Dance upon the streets like world peace has been declared. Whisper “IDGAF about you!” quietly but fervently to your computer. For today, life livers, is Friday and the weekend is waiting.
Here are a few things to help you get into it.
1.The utterly wonderful new album, Blood, from one of my deep-and-true girl crushes, Lianne La Havas. The entire album is glory. I mean it, guys- you need this album in your life. Go and buy it, like a person, but in the meantime listen to the whole beautiful thing here:
2. This fantastic piece by bound-to-be-famous Nigerian writer Akwaeke Emezi on growing up in Aba. Read the whole thing here, delight in the extract below:
I spent my entire childhood in Aba, a commercial town in the south of Nigeria, where both my siblings were born. When I came back to the country after leaving for college, I knew from my first circling of the Lagos crowd that the location of my childhood would be ammunition against people who thought I didn’t belong, that I wasn’t Nigerian enough. No one could argue with Aba. It was my best card, even better than being born in Umuahia, where my father and grandfather were born. It made me authentic in a way that was absolute; you couldn’t question if someone who grew up in Aba was a ‘real’ Nigerian. No one could say anything. Aba didn’t match the background they assumed for me: that I must have grown up outside Nigeria, because I smelled too foreign, right down to my blood. The truth felt like a story. I wanted to tell them we never had running water, that the cockroach eggs gelled into the egg grooves of the fridge door, that the concrete over the soakaway broke open and stayed open. The smell became part of our air and when one of the little chicks fell into the hole, my sister called me wicked for not helping it out. I said none of this, though. I just smiled at their shock and listened to the jokes about how Aba people can make and sell a fake version of anything, even a glass of water.
3. This Vine, by the hilarious AlliCattt, which is a perfect representation of how I feel whenever I do any sort of exercise:
Today’s featured image is from The Kitchn, and it’s of two glasses of cucumber-rosemary gin and tonics. I’m going to be making many of these- using this recipe– this weekend, you should too.
GO FORTH AND FROLIC.