Today I Choose to be Jovial – How to be Jovial

Let’s talk about jovial. Jo-vi-al. Even the word sounds like something a Victorian grandmother would say while adjusting her corset. “Oh, Mildred, you’re looking positively jovial today!”

Nobody says jovial anymore. We say happy. Upbeat. Positive. But jovial? That’s reserved for Santa Claus and wine commercials.

Yet here I am, at 61, trying to be jovial. Because apparently “mildly cranky but functional” isn’t a life goal.

The Great Jovial Experiment of Last Tuesday

Last Tuesday, I decided to be jovial. Not just happy. JOVIAL. Full-on, ho-ho-ho, isn’t-life-grand jovial.

6:47 AM: I wake up and announce to my husband, “Good morning, my dear! What a GLORIOUS day to be alive!”

He checks my forehead for fever.

7:15 AM: I sing in the shower. Not humming. SINGING. Show tunes. The neighbors probably think I’m having a breakdown. (They’re not entirely wrong.)

8:30 AM: At the coffee shop, I tell the barista, “Isn’t it WONDERFUL how coffee brings us all together?” She looks at me like I’ve joined a cult. The coffee cult. Which, let’s be honest, I have.

By 10 AM, I’m exhausted. Being jovial is work. It’s like doing emotional CrossFit while wearing a tutu.

What Jovial Actually Means (Spoiler: It’s Not What You Think)

I looked it up. Jovial comes from Jupiter, the Roman god who was apparently cheerful between throwing lightning bolts at people. So basically, jovial means “happy but potentially dangerous.”

That I can work with.

Because here’s the thing: authentic jovial isn’t about being perpetually cheerful. It’s about finding genuine delight in life’s absurdities. It’s laughing at the cosmic joke while you’re part of the punchline.

Like yesterday, when I tried to look sophisticated at a wine tasting and pronounced Gewürztraminer like I was having a stroke. The sommelier’s face was priceless. I laughed so hard I snorted wine. THAT’S jovial.

The Problem with Fake Jovial (And Why We All Do It)

We’ve all met Fake Jovial. She’s at every party, laugh-screaming “ISN’T THIS FUN?” while her eyes scream “HELP ME.” She posts sunset photos with quotes about gratitude while secretly day-drinking.

I’ve been Fake Jovial. Hell, I’ve got a PhD in Fake Jovial. Smiled through:

• School plays where my kid was Tree #3
• Dinner parties where someone explained cryptocurrency for two hours
• Zoom meetings where we could have been emails
• Family reunions where Uncle Bob explains why the moon landing was fake

But Fake Jovial is exhausting. It’s like wearing Spanx for your personality. Everything’s squeezed into an unnatural shape, and you can’t wait to get home and let it all hang out.

The Jovial Reality Check

Real jovial hit me last Thursday. I was in line at the DMV (where joy goes to die), and the woman ahead of me had brought a folding chair, a sandwich, and a romance novel. Prepared for the siege.

“Smart,” I said.

“Honey,” she replied, “this is my third time here this week. I’ve named the security guard. That’s Bob. Bob likes crosswords.”

We spent the next hour trading DMV horror stories. She told me about the time she brought a birthday cake because it was cheaper than missing another day of work. I told her about my expired license photo where I look like a hungover raccoon.

We laughed until we cried. Real tears. At the DMV.

THAT’S jovial. Finding a fellow survivor in the trenches of bureaucracy and deciding to laugh instead of scream.

The Science of Jovial (Because Everything Needs Science Now)

Apparently, there’s research on this. (There’s research on everything. Someone’s probably researching why we research so much.)

Scientists say genuine laughter:

• Releases endorphins (nature’s morphine, but legal)
• Decreases stress hormones (goodbye, cortisol, you bastard)
• Boosts immune function (take that, flu season)
• Burns calories (the only exercise I’m interested in)

But here’s what they don’t tell you: forced laughter does the opposite. It’s like your body knows you’re lying and punishes you with more stress. Thanks, body. Really helpful.

My Accidental Jovial Toolkit

The News Diet
I stopped watching morning news. Instead, I watch videos of baby goats in pajamas. Same level of relevance to my life, 100% more joy.

The “What Would Make This Funny?” Game
Stuck in traffic? Pretend everyone’s racing to the world’s most important toilet paper sale. Waiting in line? Imagine everyone’s internal monologue set to dramatic opera music.

The Strategic F-Bomb
Nothing breaks tension like a well-placed profanity. “This meeting is running long” becomes “This meeting is running f***ing long” and suddenly everyone’s human again.

The DMV Friend Principle
Find your people in the worst places. Misery loves company, but it REALLY loves company that brings snacks and inappropriate jokes.

The 3 PM Dance Break
Every day at 3 PM, I play one song and dance like nobody’s watching. Because nobody is. Except the dog, and he’s seen worse.

When Jovial Goes Wrong (A Cautionary Tale)

Warning: There are times when jovial is inappropriate. I learned this at a funeral when I tried to “lighten the mood” with a story about the deceased’s toupee.

Turns out, not everyone knew it was a toupee.

Also inappropriate: job interviews, TSA checkpoints, couples therapy, and apparently, wine tastings where you snort Gewürztraminer.

The Truth About Choosing Jovial

Here’s what I know at 61: Life is absurd. We’re all just making it up as we go, pretending we know what we’re doing while secretly Googling everything.

You can either cry about it or laugh about it. And crying makes my mascara run. (The good stuff. The $30 mascara that promises to make me look 25. It doesn’t, but it does stay put through a good laugh-cry.)

So I choose jovial. Not the fake, Facebook-ready version. The real, snorting-laughing, finding-humor-in-the-DMV version.

The version that sees my husband trying to fold a fitted sheet and laughs until I pee a little. (Thanks, menopause!)

The version that names the spider in my bathroom Gerald and has full conversations with him about his life choices.

The version that realizes we’re all just trying to get through Tuesday.

Your Turn to Get Jovial (Or Don’t, I’m Not Your Mother)

What makes you genuinely laugh? Not polite laugh. Not social media “LOL” when you didn’t even smile. Real, snorting, maybe-peeing-a-little laughter?

Find that. Do more of that.

And if you see someone at the DMV with a folding chair and a sandwich, sit next to them. They know something the rest of us don’t.

Today I choose to be jovial. The real kind. The kind that finds humor in horror and friends in the DMV line. The kind that knows life is too short to pretend everything’s fine when we could be laughing about how it’s definitely not.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s 3 PM and Beyoncé is calling.