Life Is Hard. Have Some Bits.

There is something deeply healing about having bits.

Not a fully curated personality. Not a performative online brand. Just tiny rituals of delight that make being alive feel a little softer.

I think somewhere along the way, a lot of us accidentally started treating adulthood like a waiting room. We move from task to task, answer emails, fold laundry, buy toothpaste, pay bills, and save all our joy for the “big things.” Vacations. Promotions. Milestones. Friday nights.

But intentional whimsy asks a different question:

What if your life could contain little sparks of joy every single day?

This year, I decided to bring back the wink. Not in a weird way. In a “life is funny and we are all in on the joke together” kind of way. A little wink after a joke. A tiny moment of charm. A reminder that sincerity and silliness can coexist.

I also started saying “sick, double digits” anytime someone tells me their age and they are between 10 and 99 years old.

“Thirty-two.”

“Sick, double digits.”

“Seventy-eight.”

“Sick. Double digits.”

It makes almost everyone laugh. Not because it is particularly clever, but because it catches people off guard. For one second, we stop performing adulthood and just get to be playful together.

That’s the thing about bits. They create connection.

I’ve started sending voice notes to friends instead of only texting. There is something so intimate about hearing someone laugh halfway through a story or hearing the grocery store music faintly in the background while they tell you about their day. Voice notes feel like opening the window instead of just peeking through the blinds.

Intentional whimsy is not about pretending life is easy. It is about refusing to make hardness your entire personality.

It is buying fancy glasses for Diet Coke.

Naming your houseplants.

Lighting a candle on a random Tuesday.

Making up theme songs for your cat.

Keeping stickers for no reason.

Waving at dogs from the car.

Creating traditions that nobody asked for but everyone eventually expects.

I think we underestimate how much these tiny choices shape a life.

People often talk about building a soft life as though it requires money or endless free time, but honestly, some of the softest moments are almost embarrassingly small. A friend who always sends you blurry sunset photos. Someone who says “text me when you get home.” A coworker who uses too many exclamation marks in the nicest way possible. The cashier who remembers your order. The neighbor who decorates excessively for every holiday.

These things matter because they remind us that life is not only meant to be survived. It is also meant to be noticed.

And maybe intentional whimsy is partly about becoming memorable to yourself.

Not in a “main character” way. In a “I was really here” way.

Years from now, I probably will not remember every stressful email I sent or every item on my to-do list. But I will remember laughing with friends over stupid recurring jokes. I will remember voice notes sent while walking through Costco. I will remember winking at strangers after a joke landed perfectly. I will remember the feeling of choosing delight on purpose.

There is a certain kind of adulthood that tries to convince us that seriousness is the same thing as maturity.

I don’t believe that anymore.

I think mature people are the ones brave enough to keep tenderness alive.

The ones who keep creating moments worth looking forward to.

The ones who understand that joy does not always arrive naturally — sometimes you have to plant it yourself.

So develop some bits.

Create tiny traditions.

Become the person who brings a little more warmth into ordinary moments.

Life is hard enough already.

You might as well make it interesting.