a spoonful wasn't enough
QOTD
SP:"What does she do?"
FP:"Oh, she's a full time psycho."
This year, I do think I will start writing more. There's been a lot in my head that could use to get out lately, and not many opportunities for me to say all I'd like to, when I'd like to.
I spent a good while in the company of my favourite bean product last night. Making truffles was deceptively easy and led me to believe that chocolate was both fun and easy to work with. Be as messy as you want, and eventually everything gets coated in cocoa powder - it all looks pretty in the end. Not so with molded chocolate stuff, as I have discovered. Attempt moderate finickiness; but if you don't have the right equipment on hand, it's going to come out looking pretty ugly. Which it did. But it's still chocolate, and that's what really matters.
As this time of year often leads me to do, I've been getting rather introspective. Actually, I'm passing from that stage into the next; getting restless. I've realized that while I pay fairly close attention to my various cycles on smaller scales, I haven't been paying much attention to larger cyclical patterns in my thoughts and behaviors. I need to pay more attention to this. There's many things I should pay more attention too. I've been looking back over the past few years, and there's some things I'm really missing. I miss things like falling off horses; trying not to fall out of little sailboats into Lake Superior; playing pool by candlelight when the power goes out; eating breakfast on my garage roof while the sun rises; watching the moon reflected in my teacup outside on bare november nights; melting into lakeside rocks while the morning mist burned away, barefoot and with a good book in hand; getting out for hikes two or three times a week; biking across town in a midnight rainstorm for no reason. I miss feeling like a bit of lone wolf, curious and hungry. I miss the things that drove me out to wander. I miss the things that drove me to wonder. I want to lay in the grass on summer afternoons and dream again.
Scott, funkypeaches and I have become regular late night fixtures at the Husky, in dark corner table #14. The waitress now winces when she sees me, knowing I will ask if they have veggie burgers that day, followed by fruit salad when she says no to my first request, leading to rye toast and finally resorting to fries. She was very apologetic tonight. We discussed the possibility of turning this regular event into a show, filling the fourth chair with a special guest each evening. We also discussed the potential making of Ghetto Donuts(: The motherf*cking movie, yo). Sometimes I don't think it's possible I'll laugh that hard again. And then the conversation hits a new low. Food stamps, acid, ethnic stereotypes, golf carts, sawed off shotguns, and images of red jelly splattering walls = me wanting to take up film just because that was the funniest conversation I've had in days.
"...and that's how we make the holes."
~ Scott, in donut shop proprietor accent holding an imaginary shotgun
Thunder Bay, you're breaking my heart. I wish sometimes I could get away forever, but I don't think I'll ever fully escape, no matter how far away physically I may get. And you sure know I don't want to leave tomorrow for Toronto. But I will, reluctantly, once more. When I return, I hope many things have settled out; I have not enjoyed the little swirling intrigues of this trip. Perhaps it is a case of imagining the past to have had greener grass, but the complications of the social groups around me seemed to be less uncomfortable and more amusing in the past. Now it just seems worn, put on and foolish. I'll admit I think I may still yet be showing my naivete about people, and also that I may be holding those around me to ideas of what sort of people I want to see them as. Perhaps I have not wanted to admit to myself that my friends are allowed to change as well, and it's not just me who wants to be free to evolve beyond how I have been seen, and how I saw myself in the past. We can just as easily have certain prejudices about those we care for as negative ones about those we don't. Logically I know I should be able to work around to unifying all the present changes into my view of things, just as I never lose my strong unified sense of self despite expressing and exploring the many facets I have. But while I'm trying to let things settle in, the feeling remains that the attitude is now less innocent, and more cynically hedonistic lately. (I'm not sure that those are the right words for what I mean, but none better are coming to mind.) And this jars a bit because at heart I'm an old-fashioned, overly romantic and idealistic type in personal actions by preference, even while trying my best to stand up for, and act according to open-minded principals. Really, I suppose the base of it must be a fear I will lose my small and tenuous place in the social fabric here, that I will fall out due to passivity, and my social ineptitude. Or that self doubt or defensiveness will cause me to pull away as I have done before, retreating farther than I should into lone wolf mode, sacrificing outer life for inner, keeping what I'm afraid of - other people - at bay. That only looks emotionally safer superficially, and I'm deluding myself if I think otherwise. The world is far more open for me to wander now, and I am a little nervous that some of the compulsions I feel may lead me too far outwards, ostensibly to find myself, but ending up with me losing that which I may regret. I am always led back to some search for balance.
SP:"What does she do?"
FP:"Oh, she's a full time psycho."
This year, I do think I will start writing more. There's been a lot in my head that could use to get out lately, and not many opportunities for me to say all I'd like to, when I'd like to.
I spent a good while in the company of my favourite bean product last night. Making truffles was deceptively easy and led me to believe that chocolate was both fun and easy to work with. Be as messy as you want, and eventually everything gets coated in cocoa powder - it all looks pretty in the end. Not so with molded chocolate stuff, as I have discovered. Attempt moderate finickiness; but if you don't have the right equipment on hand, it's going to come out looking pretty ugly. Which it did. But it's still chocolate, and that's what really matters.
As this time of year often leads me to do, I've been getting rather introspective. Actually, I'm passing from that stage into the next; getting restless. I've realized that while I pay fairly close attention to my various cycles on smaller scales, I haven't been paying much attention to larger cyclical patterns in my thoughts and behaviors. I need to pay more attention to this. There's many things I should pay more attention too. I've been looking back over the past few years, and there's some things I'm really missing. I miss things like falling off horses; trying not to fall out of little sailboats into Lake Superior; playing pool by candlelight when the power goes out; eating breakfast on my garage roof while the sun rises; watching the moon reflected in my teacup outside on bare november nights; melting into lakeside rocks while the morning mist burned away, barefoot and with a good book in hand; getting out for hikes two or three times a week; biking across town in a midnight rainstorm for no reason. I miss feeling like a bit of lone wolf, curious and hungry. I miss the things that drove me out to wander. I miss the things that drove me to wonder. I want to lay in the grass on summer afternoons and dream again.
Scott, funkypeaches and I have become regular late night fixtures at the Husky, in dark corner table #14. The waitress now winces when she sees me, knowing I will ask if they have veggie burgers that day, followed by fruit salad when she says no to my first request, leading to rye toast and finally resorting to fries. She was very apologetic tonight. We discussed the possibility of turning this regular event into a show, filling the fourth chair with a special guest each evening. We also discussed the potential making of Ghetto Donuts(: The motherf*cking movie, yo). Sometimes I don't think it's possible I'll laugh that hard again. And then the conversation hits a new low. Food stamps, acid, ethnic stereotypes, golf carts, sawed off shotguns, and images of red jelly splattering walls = me wanting to take up film just because that was the funniest conversation I've had in days.
"...and that's how we make the holes."
~ Scott, in donut shop proprietor accent holding an imaginary shotgun
Thunder Bay, you're breaking my heart. I wish sometimes I could get away forever, but I don't think I'll ever fully escape, no matter how far away physically I may get. And you sure know I don't want to leave tomorrow for Toronto. But I will, reluctantly, once more. When I return, I hope many things have settled out; I have not enjoyed the little swirling intrigues of this trip. Perhaps it is a case of imagining the past to have had greener grass, but the complications of the social groups around me seemed to be less uncomfortable and more amusing in the past. Now it just seems worn, put on and foolish. I'll admit I think I may still yet be showing my naivete about people, and also that I may be holding those around me to ideas of what sort of people I want to see them as. Perhaps I have not wanted to admit to myself that my friends are allowed to change as well, and it's not just me who wants to be free to evolve beyond how I have been seen, and how I saw myself in the past. We can just as easily have certain prejudices about those we care for as negative ones about those we don't. Logically I know I should be able to work around to unifying all the present changes into my view of things, just as I never lose my strong unified sense of self despite expressing and exploring the many facets I have. But while I'm trying to let things settle in, the feeling remains that the attitude is now less innocent, and more cynically hedonistic lately. (I'm not sure that those are the right words for what I mean, but none better are coming to mind.) And this jars a bit because at heart I'm an old-fashioned, overly romantic and idealistic type in personal actions by preference, even while trying my best to stand up for, and act according to open-minded principals. Really, I suppose the base of it must be a fear I will lose my small and tenuous place in the social fabric here, that I will fall out due to passivity, and my social ineptitude. Or that self doubt or defensiveness will cause me to pull away as I have done before, retreating farther than I should into lone wolf mode, sacrificing outer life for inner, keeping what I'm afraid of - other people - at bay. That only looks emotionally safer superficially, and I'm deluding myself if I think otherwise. The world is far more open for me to wander now, and I am a little nervous that some of the compulsions I feel may lead me too far outwards, ostensibly to find myself, but ending up with me losing that which I may regret. I am always led back to some search for balance.