Behind the Bedroom Door

Total mechanical and electronic failure

It started with the doorknob on my coat closet. Every time I grabbed it, it fell off. I've managed to shove it back in there until I can snag the right person to screwdriver it in for me. Then, my Palm Pilot died. True, it's practically a relic (Five years old? Six?), but I was still sorry to see it go. Now all my contacts are on my computer desk top. At home. Not the most convenient, but I find I mostly consult the contacts on my iPhone these days. Which I can't figure out how to get in alphabetical order. Waiting for someone to show me how to do that, too. Next, my camera died, my beloved Camera Power Shot that took me through Rome and populated Rome is Where the Heart Is with beautiful, color-drenched photos. Of course, I can also take photos with my iPhone, but there's no flash, and while it's great for landscape shots, it doesn't match the Cannon for quality. Next, my landline died. The machine still take messages, but the receiver is dead, despite my pressing every button, removing and reinserting the battery, plugging and unplugging. The phone is only 2 years old--same age as the camera! So, you guessed it, I'm using my iPhone, despite the fact that there is a phone company conspiracy that ensures that I get great reception everywhere but in my apartment. Finally, the wireless connection in my apartment is behaving unreliably, necessitating lots of rebooting and even more plugging and unplugging. But I can still rely on the iPhone! Perhaps I should simply get rid of everything but the iPhone? Either that, or enlist the help of some mechanically inclined man. I know this is old fashioned and pathetic and distinctly unfeminist, but when stuff breaks, that's when I miss having a man around on a regular basis. Maybe the Geek Squad should bill itself as a dating service?
Ciao--
Paola

Head of the happiness department

Truly, that is my informal title at work. (Articles Director is the one on the masthead.)  But "happiness" is what we call psychology at SELF magazine, or rather positive psychology. I get to immerse myself in all sorts of research that suggests that pursuing things, people and places that you feel passionate about, that have meaning to you (rather than just having a job or trying to get ahead) is key to living a happy life. At first, I'll admit, I was skeptical. But I'm a positive psychology convert--pursuing joy (intellectual, physical, emotional) leads to more joy. That means you have to figure out what nourishes you and gets your heart pumping, then fill your life with more of it. Not as easy as you might think when you're prone to guilt and overanalyzing and all that kind of NYC Upper West Side stuff. But it's fun to keep trying.

Ciao amici--

Paola