I am a terrible person. I’ve spent my whole life thinking I’m warm and compassionate, but I recently discovered that actually, I’m kind of a bitch. My challenge—to spend a month eschewing gossip, complaint, cynicism, sarcasm and criticism with the goal of leading a more pleasant, calm and rewarding life—should have been simple enough. It wasn’t.

The first three days were a complete wash: I cracked sarcastic jokes, snarled at people on the subway and, on the second morning, announced “Ugh. Why is everything taking so long?” to the entire Starbucks staff. After this, I decided I needed to regroup and refocus. I began a process of semantic bargaining: no more insults, no more aggression; but if something was a query, a statement of fact or a “wish sentence,” it was in bounds. I started off with innocent questions: “Is it raining more than usual?” “Does this subway line always run at this pace?”; moved on to statements such as “It would be great if our waiter brought the check”; and in fights with my boyfriend, “I wish you were listening better,” and “I wish you weren’t acting like such a dickhead.” I knew it was cheating, but I wasn’t ready to quit cold turkey.

As the weeks wore on, it became evident that my life would have to change completely if I couldn’t be cynical. Without negativity, there were people I couldn’t engage in conversation—the video-store guy, my grandmother. And there were activities that were off-limits too. Try watching any reality-TV program without proclaiming, “Christ, that talentless jackass won again?”

Ultimately, I had a few days in which I pulled off an optimistic attitude morning till night—no slipups. And these were actually great days, where I felt lighter, happier and more connected to the people around me. I found out that the secret to a sunny disposition is pretty obvious: When you’re not bitching about something, you’re not dwelling on it, which leaves less room for neurosis and more room to be in a good mood. Being less on edge is also stabilizing and prepares you for handling New York’s unexpected altercations.

One night toward the end of the project, I was walking with a friend in Chelsea when a man passed me closely on the right, bodychecked me, spun around and accused me of bumping into him. “You know what you are?” he bellowed four inches from my face. “You’re a fucking skank. You think you’re cute, but you’re actually a fucking skank.” I ignored him, but he stood in front of me, waiting for a response. “I really don’t want your aggression or your negativity,” I said. “Please go away.” And he actually did.

When he was a safe distance ahead of us, my friend and I looked at each other. “God, I’ve never seen you so calm,” she said. “Yeah,” I replied. “I wish he had been nicer.”—Jennifer Romolini