This is probably going to sound weird AF, but I don’t care. It works. So, stick with me.

A long time ago, I was told that otters won’t do anything that isn’t fun. I took that as gospel, after all, we were at a renowned aquarium, where ocean facts are spoken. And otters are delightful. Yes, there are certain things otters have to do, but they make it playful. They make it fun. From that point on, I decided to otterfy my life.

If we’re honest, there’s not a whole lot of fun in being an adult. Most everything is pressurized around time and money. But, it doesn’t have to be that way. It really doesn’t. We just need to learn how to make it fun.

You might be thinking, Hold on. Being an adult means being serious. Everything has to be serious. And, no, it fucking doesn’t. We can make things fun — or at least simpler and easier. Let’s get into that.

Don’t be mad when I say this but the first thing to do to have more fun is make the “have to/get to” exchange. Yes, we have to do certain things. But, when we reframe it as we get to, perspectives shift.

I have to do the dishes. Literally by hand. Because when you opt for a charming, older place in a beach city, you typically forgo a dishwasher. So, at least twice a day, I take out the gloves, soap and sponge, and I get to do the dishes.

When I made this language switch, it shifted my view of what I had to do. I appreciated the home I was in. That I had hot water any time I needed it. The clementine scent of the dish soap. The plates that I love, the food that I made, the kitchenware I’ve invested in. This was no longer a chore I resented, but a way to appreciate all that I have. And it became fun. I can pop in my AirPods and listen to music, a book or podcast and enjoy that, too.

I don’t have to exercise, either. I get to take care of myself. It’s not punishment but a good thing I’m doing for me.

I don’t have to go to work. I get to. And, if you’ve ever been out of work for a long period, you have an appreciation for steady income. And that takes the dread out of facing a workday. I get to go into the office, listen to my favorite radio stations (shoutout to The Independent FM and the SoCal Sound, which remains a terrible name for a really wonderful public radio station. Get their app and become a subscribing member), and while I’m at work, I get to laugh with my coworkers. We have running jokes and a good rapport, because we decided to make it fun.

Do you name your car? Maybe it’s a California thing, or maybe it’s just a me-and-my-friends kind of thing, but I name my car. Why? Because I love my car. Not in a materialistic way. But for the fact that I was able to purchase her — by the way, her name is Isabella Rossellini di Fiat, Rosie for short, because, of course, she’s red — and pay her off early. Rosie is reliable and fun to drive. She is a gift I gave myself, a reminder of how far I’ve come — when I was so in debt and my credit score was in the crapper — to being fully in the black and with an exceptional FICO. By the way, Rosie is my third Fiat, after Gianni and Giovanni. They were boys, because stick shifts.

Speaking of the importance of names, I learn the names of the people I regularly interact with and, if I can, their birthdays. I fist-bump fellow mask-wearers, because, to me, it’s fucking fun to be a NOVID. I give compliments and tip nicely, because it’s fun to see people smile at being acknowledged and appreciated.

It’s also fun for me to flash the loser L to a Cybertruck driver, pop an open-mouth-smile-thumbs-up to douchebag drivers, and say to a dude, “Hey, thanks for the mansplain.”

I wear t-shirts that let me speak my mind or share my interests. Doc Martens with a dress will never go out of style. And it’s fun.

There’s nothing in my closet or a drawer that I don’t love. Nothing. That makes getting dressed each day simple and easy. I stopped wearing foundation years ago, because that’s not fun. I stopped coloring my hair because sitting in that chair with chemicals on my head was not fun. I no longer wear stilettos. Stepping out of the male gaze? Super fun.

We don’t take into account what a bonus it is to embrace our goofball side. It’s fun! I mean, we don’t have to embarrass ourselves or others by being an utter fool, but we do get to make things more fun. We do get to lighten things up. The hip-wiggling inflatable frog person will always be my hero.

We don’t need to add stress to things that don’t need to be stressful, like going to work. Or resent things that are actually for our benefit, like doing dishes. Or what we are required to do each day, like getting dressed. And if we can lessen that stress or resentment by making things more enjoyable, why not do it?

If you’re afraid at being laughed at, I suggest learning to laugh with yourself immediately. Like the other day when I got distracted making an iced matcha latte and shook the new box of coconut milk…after I took off the lid. Yeah, that was fun. And I laughed as I mopped up the mess. Because who fucking does something like that? I guess this girl.

Otterfy. Whenever possible, otterfy. And it’s always possible.

If you aren’t sure about otters being the right mascot for Happy Rebels, just think of the surfboard stealing otter in Santa Cruz. Otters are punk AF.  They hold their ground and have a great time doing it. xo

https://www.vice.com/en/article/sea-otters-are-stealing-surfboards-at-an-alarming-rate/