The ball’s in your hands, or so you believe.
The playing field is equal, or so you think.
You’re doing what you think is best with your ball, or so you feel. So, are you there yet?
P.S.: Sorry for not posting in so long. With work and travel and an exciting art project, I just didn’t have the time to make anything new.
Everyone I know (myself included) is always beating themselves up: over where they are in their careers, what they could have done differently about lost loves, how they could have been there more for a parent, how they could be eating healthier, lost a little weight, been more hardworking, bought a house, been wiser with their money.
So sometimes, it’s important to remind yourself that you are only human and you’re doing the best you can. Be gentle with yourself. You are all you’ve got in this world.
Thought you should know that I am an awful tea snob. I inherited this from my parents, who carry their own tea when travelling, lest they have to drink Assam or worse, Malayasian tea (oh, the horror!)
Darjeeling first or second flush, no milk and very little sugar. Water on tea, not tea in water. And yes, absolutely no boiling.
For tea with milk, the fall flush, which has a more robust, muddy flavor. And by milk, I do mean a spot, really.
I eat a very healthy breakfast, and an even healthier lunch.
I also eat veggies and fruits, drink matcha tea with very watery skimmed milk and only one cup of coffee per day. However, on my way back home in the evenings, invariably, a sense of doom descends upon me. Why am I here, what am I doing with my life, am i really happy, should i start over, etc.
Then I come home and eat cake. Copious amounts of cake. And in fact, it does make everything better.
There was a time in my life when weekends brought with them a kind of restlessness. What will I do? How can I possibly be at home on Saturday night? What will the weekend nazis say about me if I hung out with myself? Will it be kind of pathetic? Fridays were spent in a flurry of phone calls, plans, outfits, and movie tickets.
But that has all changed. Weekend social anxiety has given way to sweat pants, Youtube and bits of cake in my hair. I now routinely choose sitting at home letting my belly hang out over social engagements that require me to suck it in, literally and figuratively. Weekend nazis be damned.
What do your weekends look like? Also, do you think it’s sad? Cuz, I kinda like it.