Inspired by my roommate who, a few years ago, implemented something her and her boyfriend called “Niceness Movement ‘08” to curb the pattern of involuntary meanness they had developed toward each other, I decided to undertake a movement of my own.

As humans, it’s only natural to have negative thoughts during the course of a day. Whether it be a mean mental note on how ugly that girl’s sweater is, a sarcastic laugh at the boy who slammed into a wall while looking at his phone or an outright bashing of a contestant on American Idol, we all do it.

Feeling I was more judgmental than most of my peers, I pitched a story to my editor about a self-imposed “week of niceness” during which I would wholly refrain from any sort of meanness, spite or hatred.

Initially, my editor wanted me to immediately apologize to everyone I had a negative thought about in an attempt to remedy the situation. But after realizing that route might cause more harm than good (read: black eyes and broken limbs), we settled on the following guidelines:

Each time I did, said or thought something unpleasant, whatever it may be, I’d have to counter it with an equal, yet opposite reaction. I would also go out of my way to be kind, regardless of who the recipient was.

Unsure how to kick off my week of niceness, I baked cookies for my friends and co-workers. And while the cookies were much appreciated — and delicious — I realized that though the treats were palate pleasing, my action was entirely selfish. I had made the cookies. I had passed them around. I was receiving the compliments. I felt great about myself, but what was I really accomplishing for others?

With my first attempt an epic failure, I quickly changed gears. I decided the week wouldn’t be so much about being excessively nice to others, but rather seeing what kind of effect the no-meanness mantra would have on me.

Walking to class post-rule change, I was truly appalled with myself. I’d never been so conscious of my own thoughts before as when I was forced to pay attention to them. Things I would have never given a second thought were suddenly on the forefront of my mind: the annoying noise someone’s boots made on the sidewalk, the vapid conversation I overheard from two girls in front of me, the nauseating smell coming from that restaurant.

Normally, I would have made a mental note of my distaste and instantly moved on. Now, I was so aware of what I was thinking, and how truly mean and unnecessary it was, that self-loathing quickly set in. In my attempt to avoid negative thoughts, I found I was having more of them than ever.

It’s like when a friend points out that the professor says “um” at least once in every sentence. You had never noticed before, but now that your friend has made you aware of it, the “ums” punctuating the lecture are the only thing you can focus on.

But then, when you think about it, who was I to judge these people who I didn’t even know just because I had nothing better to do with my time and couldn’t get my mind off of my own neuroses? The kid with the irritating shoes had bought them for a reason. The stupid conversation was obviously important to the girls. The odor from the restaurant smelled good to someone.

I tried to occupy myself during those first few walks by looking at trees, the sidewalk, squirrels even — anything to keep me from glancing at something I could potentially find fault with. It was difficult, as I again found myself thinking things like, “what a fat rodent.” Why did my brain insist on functioning at such a mean and lowbrow level? My thoughts were spinning out of control and the harder I tried to stay away from the malicious thinking, the faster it flooded into my head.

I soon realized that being nice all the time is incredibly hard.

After a few days and a yoga class, I was able to get my mind out of the proverbial negativity gutter. I focused my energy on, however cliché, “happy thoughts,” and though it felt unnatural at first to force a smile and find the best in even the most dismal of situations, doing so eventually became second nature to me. When I stopped obsessing over unpleasantries and just let myself be, niceness — or at least ambivalence — came easy.

Things that would normally annoy me and trigger a snide remark didn’t seem that bad. Instead of complaining about a dirty dish left in the sink, I rinsed it off. I found myself smiling and laughing more frequently, enjoying minor details in things I’d never noticed before due to a fixation on something I deemed off-putting.

Negative Nancy was taking the week off, and I routinely woke to birds singing outside my window and furry woodland creatures bringing me fresh flowers Cinderella-style.