Blueberries and other worthwhile investments

Joy isn’t a grand gesture — it’s a carton of blueberries on a Tuesday.

Photo by Sherry Chen/The Barnard Bulletin

By Ankita Mandal

April 24, 2025

With my aptly chosen Trader Joe’s tote bag over my shoulder — a slight, almost ironic nod to the frugality I was choosing to ignore — I found myself wandering the aisles of Morton Williams mid-day after a particularly grueling Organic Chemistry lecture. You know the aisles: forever fluorescent, sneakily expensive, and annoyingly well-stocked with produce that always seems to toe the line between overpriced and irresistibly convenient.

I browsed through the cartons of my favorite, blueberries, each one nearly identical yet varying just enough in plumpness to justify overthinking my choice. $5.99 — outrageous, and depending on the week, can be a justifiable treat or an unattainable luxury. As I walked a lap around the store, I deciphered which week this was.

I circled back.

Sometimes, choosing joy looks like buying overpriced blueberries and eating them by the handful with your roommate, standing over your bed at midnight, no regrets.

There is a quiet kind of rebellion in doing a little extra for yourself, something that serves no other purpose than to make you happy. It feels almost philosophical, this tiny indulgence in a culture that is constantly nudging us toward restraint and delayed gratification.

But indulgence isn’t always about spending. I’ve had weeks where the blueberries weren’t an option, where treating myself meant something quieter, like walking to Riverside Park instead of studying for one more hour, or letting myself listen to an old album on repeat without multitasking. Sometimes joy means taking your time back, not your wallet out.

Going to a school as rigorous and self-directed as Barnard, we are trained to earn our joy. To hustle for it. To save now and celebrate later. But if I’ve learned anything from these tiny acts of softness, whether it’s impulse produce or a park bench in the sun, it’s that life doesn’t wait for the perfect moment to ripen. Joy, like blueberries, is best when you enjoy it while it’s still sweet.

I thought about this again on a flight back to New York from spring break. The girl next to me was struggling with her suitcase, one of those tiny yet somehow still overpacked ones that refused to fit in the overhead bin. Naturally, I made a joke about how I’m always that person, overestimating what I can carry through airports (and life). We ended up talking for the entire flight.

At one point, while laughing about our shared packing habits, she said, almost in passing: “It’s really nice to talk to a fellow over-packer.” It wasn’t life-changing, but it was disarmingly genuine — a small, unexpected pocket of warmth in the quiet chaos of travel. By the time we landed, we’d made loose plans to get chocolate croissants later that week. I’m not sure if we ever will, but honestly, that wasn’t the point. The moment had already done its work.

These little indulgences — the blueberries, the airplane conversation, the croissant plans we might never keep — are their own form of self-care. Their own micro-investments in a life that feels textured, connected, and alive.

Still, joy — even the smallest kind — can be a privilege. What feels like a minor splurge to one person might be impossible for another. And when your budget is built to the decimal, even a $5.99 decision takes up real space. That’s when it becomes important to remember that joy can also be creative. Sometimes it's borrowing your friend’s nail polish. Sometimes it’s making time to FaceTime someone who feels like home.

The core of indulgence is not the price tag; it’s the permission.

And the science behind it agrees. A study published in Frontiers of Psychology suggests that savoring small, positive experiences, like eating your favorite fruit or chatting with a stranger, significantly enhances emotional wellbeing. This act of “savoring” isn’t just about noticing something nice; it’s about pausing long enough to let joy register in your body. 

Another article from Harvard Health notes that positive emotions can lower physical stress markers in the body, improve resilience, and support long-term mental health. This is the part we often overlook. When we talk about self-care, we talk about recovery — spa days after burnout, sleep after collapse. But the science shows that joy can be preventative. It can keep you from unraveling in the first place. When you let yourself fully enjoy something, you’re not wasting time or being frivolous. You’re metabolizing happiness in a way that strengthens you from the inside out.

Micro-joy, micro-healing. The ROI is real — not just in how you feel in the moment, but in how you bounce back from everything that comes after it.

And for us — Barnard students, city dwellers, over-scheduled and stretched thin — it’s easy to believe that life should be all discipline and delay. We are taught to be practical, to stretch every dollar, to calendar every moment for maximum efficiency. But it’s precisely because of our full schedules and fluctuating bank accounts that these tiny, deliberate acts of satisfaction matter so much.

Self-care isn’t always a spa day or a grand gesture. Sometimes, it’s buying the berries because they look good and taste better. Sometimes, it’s the long walk home instead of rushing back. Sometimes it’s the extra hour of sunlight, the moment of rest you didn’t justify to anyone.

So debate the blueberries. Compliment the stranger. Say yes to the maybe-later croissant plan. Or take the walk, hum the song, stop working for five minutes longer than you think you should. These little investments might not change your whole life, but they will change your day. And sometimes, that is enough.

And later, when you’re snacking on those sweet, overpriced berries or sitting alone by the Hudson watching the light change, remember: you are worth the indulgence.