I woke up this morning and leisurely embraced that famous ol' rag of a paper while sipping a latte in my 400 thread count kingdom.
After running out to the grocery while my husband manned the domain (read: slept)feeding fifteen, (sometimes I exaggerate) loading one thing and emptying another, I returned a call, typed up my seven year olds' latest song (about love and being seventeen) encouraged one kid to start his homework, found the 3x5 note cards, swept, negotiating with my 13 year old about going to a movie vs. coming home, assisted my daughter's in washing their hair and picking out the day's clothes, I sat down to read the Style Section.
I'm a writer, (At least my publisher and agent think so. Fooled them.)so imagine my interest in Jan Hoffman's article about writer, Gretchen Rubin's latest, The Happiness Project.
I'm not a huge fan of self help books (anymore). Perhaps because I read my fair share (and my husband's) and lo and behold, I have a life I love. But hey, I get that some are better than others, and The Happiness project sounds clever enough. If nothing else, it made me look around my home and consider the possibilities of a life uncluttered. See, dreams are good I tell you. Good for soul. Good for the country. But I digress.
It was this little morsel of brilliance that I felt compelled to mention. In my mind's eye, I wouldn't be doing my job if I let this one fly. I mean, who else is going to speak up for wealthy white American's with vaginas. We are the forgotten ones. The ones it is still okay to bash. Our crime? You wonder, though it is so obvious. Our crime is: Having help. To the stake, bitches. To the stake.
Readers may not realize that she doesn’t live on the generic row of low-rise apartment houses on the cover of the book, suggesting the West Village or Park Slope in Brooklyn. Her triplex is in a neo-Georgian building on the Upper East Side.
And to those who may feel daunted by how she does it all — the charts, the reading, writing, exercising, volunteering, socializing, parenting, scrapbooking and glue-gunning? Relax. She has a sitter and a housecleaner.
Thank you Jan Hoffman. Thank you. For a moment there, I thought this former- Yale Undergrad/editor in chief Yale Law Journal who had researched Boethius, Schopenhauer, St Therese of Lisieux and Tolstoy might have had something interesting to say on the topic of (guffaw) happiness. But you, sister, have set me straight. This Rubin is a fraud. She lives on the UES people. She has a sitter. A housekeeper. A rich, white, Wall Street man in a suit father in law.
Wake up America.
I, for one, wouldn't be caught dead reading such low brow in public. In fact, I prefer the scholars. (Especially the ones in hard cover with even harder penises.)
I'm far too busy for Happiness fluff. There's the rest of style section after all.
So, ahem. No. I will not be running out to get my copy. I have standards.
Then again, there's always my kindle.