(no subject)
Cooking mishaps and cooking triumphs.
Get up and try again.
I am so close to finishing a manuscript that it hurts to continue.
Grit my teeth and push on.
Life is hard. I find myself vacillating between a sense of grounded peace and a desperate ache for human contact, human connection. I have planted too many gardens and let them go.
My talents lie scattered. My room is a mess. In moments of lucidity I suspect that I am not happy.
I am teaching myself about whole grains. Taking on the spectrum all at once. This learning process is full of mistakes. I pick myself up and move on, but it is hard. My inner reserves do not feel boundless.
My moods are tied to the weather so strongly that it scares me. This is why I need to live somewhere sunny and warm -- my optimistic core is tested every time it rains.
Love, and my wok, will see me through.
Get up and try again.
I am so close to finishing a manuscript that it hurts to continue.
Grit my teeth and push on.
Life is hard. I find myself vacillating between a sense of grounded peace and a desperate ache for human contact, human connection. I have planted too many gardens and let them go.
My talents lie scattered. My room is a mess. In moments of lucidity I suspect that I am not happy.
I am teaching myself about whole grains. Taking on the spectrum all at once. This learning process is full of mistakes. I pick myself up and move on, but it is hard. My inner reserves do not feel boundless.
My moods are tied to the weather so strongly that it scares me. This is why I need to live somewhere sunny and warm -- my optimistic core is tested every time it rains.
Love, and my wok, will see me through.