The Catalogue is collecting the smallest reasons to feel better.

One day I found myself in Bryant Park, New York City, listening to the author of yet another self-help book about how to be happy. She had done tons of research, she said, and her profound advice to us on this day ranged from “get more sleep” to “try to exercise a little”. True enough, but come on!

Why is it that the happiness discourse has been completely taken over by self-help-literature-stupidity? Why do the people who try to teach us about happiness always seem so LAME?

Tired of the advice that is being poured over me by self-help books, women’s magazines etc., I’m cataloguing my own reasons for happiness. Turns out, usually it’s about the smallest details.