Archive | July, 2011

This is how I write in a Seattle coffee shop

26 Jul

So, it’s been, err, months since my last post. And I’ve decided to switch things up a little, and that’ll come through in my next couple posts. I’ve realized that one can only do so much to your apartment, and mine is pretty damn cute and basically finished. I’m going to start putting myself out there a little bit more.

I just got back from my first solo vacation to Seattle. One day a couple months ago, I decided I wanted to go on vacation this summer. Two hours later, I’d booked a Bed & Breakfast in and a flight to Seattle, one of the only major U.S. cities I’d never gone to, hastily deciding to go on vacation all alone. While, yes, I did move to an entirely new continent by myself  at the ripe old age of 22, there was something different, more mature maybe?, about going on vacation alone.

Anyway, enough of that. I made it a point to write every day, and here’s what come through my fingertips on Day 3:

This cookie isn’t nearly as good as it should be. The mocha is pretty delicious, but nothing more spectacular than what I could find in Minneapolis. I think it’s the chocolate in the cookie. You can’t put semi-sweet chocolate chips in a chocolate-chocolate cookie: they have to be milk chocolate. Dark might work, but milk is best. Or white chocolate. But never semi-sweet.

Last night I watched fire dancers and an acrobat, trades that really need to be learned and honed. And I wondered who taught them, and if I could learn how to be a fire dancer or an acrobat. I thought that, yes, I probably could be an acrobat, as I’m strong and flexible and like heights. But where would I learn? I don’t know about fire dancing, as I would probably start either myself or a building on fire, maybe both. And, then, my thought turned to, is there a trade that I want to learn? Do I want to be a tradeswoman?

But just now, with the chocolate chips in a cookie, I realized that most people don’t know things like that. Most people can’t bake cookies without a recipe or measuring cups in a convection oven in another country, on another continent, even. But I can.

I’m also good at picking out clothes, for myself and other people, finding colors that look awesome together but that most people wouldn’t think to put together. Like right now, I’m wearing a canary yellow dress, cobalt blue shrug, and a lime green belt. And I’m rocking it. Everyone else is wearing black and blue jeans. And a couple guys are wearing army green shirts.

Back to cookies. I baked some of my best cookies in that convection oven. I guess because at home I stick with the recipes that I know are good. But that’s not what I want for my life. Good enough isn’t good enough for my life. I want awesome and horrible, because I know to get awesome you have to have horrible. To be happy, you need sad. To be in love, you need to have fallen out of love.

I know not everyone feels that way, but I do, and I don’t want to change that about myself.

Today I read a story about an 84-year-old woman who died after she had been struck by a boy on a skateboard. They quoted her husband of 65 years, who  said he was very lonely without her, as they’d been together since junior high school. And my second thought, after, that’s so sad! (well, maybe third thought, my first thought was most likely, “Shit fuck!, she got killed by a skateboard! That’s kind of an awesome way to go. (Go with me on this one.)), was, wow, they probably didn’t know what they were missing. Maybe they were really well suited for each other. But maybe they weren’t, and they didn’t know any better. If I ever get married, I want to go into it knowing my other options, and fully aware of my choice.

I’ve just decided, just this moment, that I’m going to start baking cookies without a recipe again. So I can know what I’ve been missing by using a guide these last couple of years.

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