Yesterday, when I woke up, I was 29 years old with mere hours left in my twenties. Last night/this morning when I went to bed, I had entered into a new decade. 30. Thirty. Thir-ty. I've been practicing saying this for a few weeks, so my tongue wraps around the number nicely. It's also a plus that I happen to prefer even numbers. Most odd number years just end badly for me.
Turns out, I'm actually happy to enter my 30's. Single mom sounds better in your 30's than 20's. As though having a child out of wedlock in your 20's labels you as a loose woman. Nevermind that it was late 20's and I have no regrets. Stigmas are what they are. I don't feel yet that I've reached my prime. Which is funny, seeing as when I was entering into my 20's that 30 seems far away and ancient. How very very wrong I was on both accounts.
There are things that I want to accomplish this year, regardless of age, but now I think I'm turning them into goals for the decade. Things to do before 40. Not a bucket list, but just goals. For example, I want to be a better cook. I was a late bloomer with cooking. I burned myself on a waffle maker as a child and it put me out of the kitchen until I was 19 and living on my own. Even then, it started slowly. I picked up things here and there working in the restaurant industry that I would take home and practice. I looked online for recipes to work on making what has already been made. Then I started to get fearless. Now I try and throw things together that I think will taste good. There are complimentary colors, I like complimentary flavors. I work off feel vs recipe (unless, I'm specifically working off recipe), and there are no measurements for what I tend to make. I like winging it.
Part of this particular goal in cooking is french food. I am, and have always been, something of a francophile. Which is hilarious to me considering that while I have a passporte, I have yet to exit the United States with it. I had meant to go for my 30th this year, but it didn't work out. Mostly because of actual work. But that's another story. I digress... So I've been looking for French cookbooks lately, something I can start working out of ala Julie & Julia, only without the Julia Childs bit. I've never been a huge fan, and French cookbooks for Americans just seems somewhat patronizing. I'm sure there are some out there that will label me as blasphemous, but that's how I feel. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I want authenticity. Which, let me tell you, is hard to find in the Barnes & Nobles and Borders of this world. I'll continue looking for what it is that I'm looking for, and hopefully will have some good stories to tell about the adventures in the kitchen which will ensue. In the meantime, I'm trying to build up my cookware. Today I added souffle cups to my wish list. Along with a terrine and a hand mandolin.
I hope by the time I hit 31 that I'll have come farther in my cooking goal. This year is going to be an adventure.
4.3.10
25.11.09
Sticks and Stones
They tell you when you are little that words can't hurt you. They tell you this because they know that what they are telling you isn't true. Words hurt. Words can cut, slice, make you bleed. Words, when designed to hurt, can hurt years later after the initial pain has passed, upon remembering, to open the wound fresh. Words leave behind emotional scars that never truly go away. It doesn't matter how much time has passed, how different your life is now, they stick and come up when you don't expect.
I know this best because of the words that I have said, or held myself back from saying. I know the words that can break someone, make them feel small, unimportant, worthless. From the depths I can pull someone's weakest moment, their worst fear, their shame, and turn it against them. I don't say this because I'm proud of it. I say this because I'm not. It's odd really, how much power words hold over people. And more power still when knowing a person's weakness.
With age comes maturity and the wisdom to know that even though I have the capability of being that person, it's harder and far more rewarding to not be. I think back to the words that have hurt me, that shaped the person I am today, and there's great sadness there. There comes a time to let go. I am buried by words that hurt; the guilt of saying them and the pain of receiving them.
It's time to start fresh, to try on a positive outlook (and hope to god it fits). Life is hard enough without carrying all this old baggage with me. I want to send it away on the ocean tide and wash myself clean. 2010 is a new year. It's a great year for starting fresh, starting over, starting anew. I can't wait.
I know this best because of the words that I have said, or held myself back from saying. I know the words that can break someone, make them feel small, unimportant, worthless. From the depths I can pull someone's weakest moment, their worst fear, their shame, and turn it against them. I don't say this because I'm proud of it. I say this because I'm not. It's odd really, how much power words hold over people. And more power still when knowing a person's weakness.
With age comes maturity and the wisdom to know that even though I have the capability of being that person, it's harder and far more rewarding to not be. I think back to the words that have hurt me, that shaped the person I am today, and there's great sadness there. There comes a time to let go. I am buried by words that hurt; the guilt of saying them and the pain of receiving them.
It's time to start fresh, to try on a positive outlook (and hope to god it fits). Life is hard enough without carrying all this old baggage with me. I want to send it away on the ocean tide and wash myself clean. 2010 is a new year. It's a great year for starting fresh, starting over, starting anew. I can't wait.
23.11.09
Days and Dates
It has been 3 years, 9 months, 24 days since I last wrote in my blog. Looking back over those three years, I can see how this would fall to the wayside. Life happens, especially when you're busy creating and nurturing more life.
It has been 3 years, 2 days since I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. One of the more emotional days of my life, but in the end, one of the more blessed as well. Out of fear comes courage. I found that.
It has been 2 years, 3 months, 2 days since the day my daughter was born. I have never felt more powerful than I did on that day.
It has been 11 months, 8 days since I broke up with the father of my child. Love comes in many forms, but not for us. Not how it should be to go forward.
It has been 3 months, 8 days since I moved back in with the parents to get my feet on the ground. Now to figure out where to go from here.
Life happens and it happens when we're not paying attention. One moment I was writing about finding love and endless possibilities, now I'm writing about grains of sand through the hourglass. It happened in a blink. All of a sudden I have a two year old, my life is in a small state of upheaval, and I have only flashes of clarity in what remains of my brain.
In some small, momentous ways, life has moved forward for me, and in others, I'm right back where I started. The question becomes 'what have I learned from this'. I have answers for that, not all, but some. I have learned that I'm stronger than even I could have given myself credit for. I have learned that I don't have all the answers, that I can make them up as I go. I have learned that walls that are built brick-by-brick can be taken down the same way. I have learned that sometimes it's better not to define with labels what happens, but to let things happen organically. I have learned that who I actually am is a work in progress. I am learning to remember what parts of me I liked at certain points and to bring that back around again.
I'm starting over. Again. And I'm finding that I like it. Especially with a cute two year old partner in crime.
It has been 3 years, 2 days since I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. One of the more emotional days of my life, but in the end, one of the more blessed as well. Out of fear comes courage. I found that.
It has been 2 years, 3 months, 2 days since the day my daughter was born. I have never felt more powerful than I did on that day.
It has been 11 months, 8 days since I broke up with the father of my child. Love comes in many forms, but not for us. Not how it should be to go forward.
It has been 3 months, 8 days since I moved back in with the parents to get my feet on the ground. Now to figure out where to go from here.
Life happens and it happens when we're not paying attention. One moment I was writing about finding love and endless possibilities, now I'm writing about grains of sand through the hourglass. It happened in a blink. All of a sudden I have a two year old, my life is in a small state of upheaval, and I have only flashes of clarity in what remains of my brain.
In some small, momentous ways, life has moved forward for me, and in others, I'm right back where I started. The question becomes 'what have I learned from this'. I have answers for that, not all, but some. I have learned that I'm stronger than even I could have given myself credit for. I have learned that I don't have all the answers, that I can make them up as I go. I have learned that walls that are built brick-by-brick can be taken down the same way. I have learned that sometimes it's better not to define with labels what happens, but to let things happen organically. I have learned that who I actually am is a work in progress. I am learning to remember what parts of me I liked at certain points and to bring that back around again.
I'm starting over. Again. And I'm finding that I like it. Especially with a cute two year old partner in crime.
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