Introduction to Bread 101 (2 credits)

A few days ago, we went to Cobbs to buy some bread.

(Normally, this isn't an activity worth blogging about, but I'll make an exception - just this once.)

It was late in the day, and they were getting ready to close. At the counter, was an older... gentleman? Lady? I'm not sure to be honest. But here's how it played out:

Buying bread is not rocket science. Buy what you like (sourdough) or buy what your conscience says you SHOULD like (multi grain). But for the love of Pete, please buy SOMETHING so that we may ALSO buy some bread and avoid the fast food demons that were attempting to foil our cheap and healthy eating plan for the week. This person had evidently crawled out of some pre-ancient Egyptian cave, and had never actually seen bread before. The poor kid at the counter was actually having to describe, loaf by loaf, what each and every type was. In detail.

"That's country grain. It's like multi grain. It's made from seven different types of grain."

"No no, that's country grain too. It just has sesame seeds on the outside. No, it's the same thing, but with sesame seeds."

After several minutes, we gave up and left. We almost cracked and ran across the street for KFC, but compromised and went for sushi instead.

I Will Post This.

Since New Years, I've been writing blogs - but not posting blogs.

I've been borderline emo of late, due to a lot of big changes in my life. But I'd rather keep my emo to myself, or at least, as much of it as I can. I'm not big on sharing the emo. Almost typed 'emu' there. The emu I can share.

Work is very busy, but it's keeping me happy. I like feeling appreciated for what I can contribute. I like working for a company that encourages exterior box contemplation. Making new friends, learning new things. Oddly enough, I feel a bit like I did just before I started high school some fifteen years ago: excited by the possibilities of finding new interests to fall in love with.

When I was in high school, the only thing that really got me through it was variety, and the fact that by grade ten I'd figured out the credit system and was able to devise a very personalised course load for the last three years of required academia. I structured my learning to focus mainly on arts - I liked to joke and call it my pre-BA. Choir, Vocal Jazz, Drawing and Painting, Ceramics, Drama, Acting for the Camera, English, Creative Writing, English Lit... and the list went on. I took the public school system by the balls, looked it straight in the eye, and said, "I've put up with years and years of shitty peers and shitty teachers, and now I'm taking the reigns. And you just try and stop me."

By my early twenties, when I had little to no accomplishments worth mentioning, I began pondering if my earlier plan to stick it to the man was more of a case of biting off my nose. I proceeded to carry around some serious self induced guilt for the next few years, convinced that I had royally humped my one chance at creating the proper foundation for a meaningful life. This toxic thought process spun ridiculously out of control, and counter productively so - rather than accepting my so-called 'mistakes', and attempting to have another go at things, I spiraled into a self-defeatist thought process that even further prolonged my getting on with life.

Okay. Where exactly am I going with this. I'm not sure, but the title is telling me tough luck skippy; wrap it up with a nice bow and let's be done.

I think where I'm trying to go with this is: I'm a different person. We're all different people. We're not pod people (thank God). The decisions that I made then were the right decisions, and the only bad decision I made was second guessing myself when life didn't come up roses the first time I stepped out the front door. Make a plan, stick to the plan.

Sticking with the plan now. Feels good.

Note to self: include chocolate with the plan.

Stating the Obvious.

Tonight it's dark.
Just like today, and the day before, and last week.
And last month.
It's quiet in the dark. Nothing moves, nothing speaks.
But behind a glass wall talk is seen.
Talk is cheap.
Just like you. And you. And you.

Blind.
Or so they thought.
Not. Really.
All is clear from where you sit. And between us there is
No smoke to hide that truth.
So go ahead.

If ignorance is bliss
Then I am in a very. Sad. Place.