We need to be adults about this: Waking up in your 30s feels like waking up from a hangover in your 20s. There is just no sense in hiding from it. When the clock ticks to 7:30, the customized alarm will chirp bird-sounds into my ear just in time to interrupt a dream where I have a happy family and an affordable mortgage. As I peel the side of my face from my sweat-drenched pillow, it soon becomes apparent that my neck can turn that way, but not that way. In fact, this is a fairly new Casper pillow, and the first night I used it, I had to spend four hours of the following morning with an ice pack on my neck. I have somehow managed to pull my calf and sprain my ankle on multiple occasions while rolling over in bed, and sleeping on my side is a risk that my shoulder will do that thing again. Everything is stiff; maybe I should get back into yoga. The dreary slog to the bathroom feels like I’m a pirate balancing on two peg legs. Maybe I’ll just sit at the edge of my bed and have an existential crisis.
Well, the quicker I start this day, the quicker it’ll be over. There are too many sigma grindset videos about early-morning cold showers, but I’m open to the idea that the most effective morning routine is lying down in the shower and having a beer. It’s the zen mindset, to deliberately start your day at rock bottom. Stephen Hawking was so smart because he had to do this. When your brain feels like it’s spiraling into the abyss, you’re tricked into thinking that the rest of the day can only get better. It’s a false set of confidence, an optimistic placebo effect. An early-morning cold plunge sets my schedule up in a way that makes the hardest part of my day over before 7 AM. It would be tempting to crawl back into bed as a treat. Starting your day off in a terrible, depressive state will trigger panic-induced productivity. Be hungover on a Tuesday. Piss on your kitchen floor. The bar cannot be raised if it is never lowered.
I’ve started taking AG1, though I don’t really feel like I’m at the pinnacle of health as much as I’m on top of the pyramid of health. Sometimes I like to watch sigma grindset videos while taking a mid-workday dump, which seems to have borked my algorithm, and now my phone bombards me with ads for TRT and collagen peptides. All of that seems unnecessary when I could harken back to the rich tapestry of my tri-state Italian-American cultural heritage and live like an old Italian man.
Buy leather sandals. Grow tomatoes in your backyard, make sauce with them, then dip bread in that sauce. Have a little glass of wine for lunch. Water down your driveway, and do it tarps off. Keep the garage door open all day, maybe even sit in there for a while in a lawn chair. Make your own cured meats, and hang them to dry in your garage. Immediately hand-pull any weeds out of the ground whenever you see one. Yell up any stairway for a woman named Marie or Donna, regardless of what your partner’s name is. Go to McDonald’s with your friends and have a coffee, then spit it out after the first sip and bully the cashier about it for 15 minutes. Make lemoncello that has the same alcohol strength as petroleum, then drink it every day as a digestivo. Buy a gold chain and a Speedo. Wear V-neck sweaters, and never wear sunscreen. Put a carpet in your basement. Lift iron weights and say “Mama Mia” whenever you max bench. Chainsmoke on your recliner while you watch the evening news. Observe local construction projects with your hands behind your back. Take lemon effervescente for the agida. Make vinegar with the bottle of wine the neighbors gave you at Christmas. Have an affogato once a day and blame everyone else for your problems.
My Italian grandpa had this exact routine, and he lived to 93 with abs.
Can’t wait until I’m in my 40s.
I sit in a lawn chair in the open garage door and say "Hi" to the neighbourhood as it walks by. I don't exercise as much as I should. I eat more ice cream than I should. I have a new orthopedic pillow from Obus Forme to help me sleep, with the collapse of all the soft stuff that used to keep the bones from touching each other and pinching the nerves in my neck. I eat a handful of meds and supplements every day. Today is my 37th sober birthday, thanks, but I'll take a pass on the alcoholic beverages and jack myself up on coffee. I watch more YouTube than I should in my electric recliner, in my old man pants (elastic waistband for the quick trips to the loo). I can't wait until I get to my 80's. My Mom is 96.
I get holistic acupuncture.
It rewires me, makes things circulate, pulls me into a meditative state.
I'll have music with that too.