Posted May 23, 2012 at 4:50pm
So I am officially going to Senegal and China next year - just have to finish some paperwork, but everything’s kosher to go once I submit it.
I’ve been reading more blogs about Senegal and while about 25% of the time I wonder, “Why did I not just apply to France?!” (e.g. when I read about how there is no toilet paper), at the same time, I’m terribly excited. In a very frightened sort of manner.
I just have to make it through this semester (and this break - and find something interesting to do this summer).
kboxing
Last Tuesday, I was wearing my Warrior Dash shirt and Shane playfully mussed my hair when she said over her microphone that she was there, too. <3 girlcrush.
Posted March 25, 2012 at 9:10pm
This is Angela, with our mocha “improvisation” muffins (studded with 2 kinds of chocolate, 3 kinds of berries, and pomegranate cranberry sauce. Most “improvisational” part: soy sauce instead of salt).
I love doing stuff with Angela because everything we do is like this. Why follow the directions exactly?
Waffle time? Let’s throw some grapefruits in! (Or beets or purple sweet potatoes). Let’s pick some wild fennel or elderberries and guess at how you prepare them (both are awful). When we go up the fire trails, let’s take muddy shortcuts and climb through the trees.
She’s the kind of girl who would be perfect to take backpacking through Europe. It’s so great to explore new territory, even if the results are sometimes hilariously imperfect (the fennel…). When I have disposable income and a free week, it would be thrilling to go to the airport and find a random standby seat and just fly where the no-shows take you.
Posted March 25, 2012 at 9:06pm
Today I was walking down Sproul in the torrential downpour when a complete stranger came up behind me to share her umbrella with me. “Here you go,” she said, in a tone that indicated familiarity (when I’d turned around I’d expected to recognize who she was), but it was just that she couldn’t “imagine how terrible it would be without an umbrella.”
I was so overcome with her empathy and thoughtfulness. Yes, it was a simple act of giving that didn’t take much, but how often do you catch up with an umbrella-less stranger so that you can shelter them?
From our 15-second conversation, I could tell she was a first-year. Probably no mutual friends. But maybe I’ll see her again. :)
Every so often, you meet someone who just… blows you out of the water
They entrance you with their charm, with how entirely comfortable they are with themselves - I can’t really explain -
you’re just left feeling like Sayuri standing on that bridge, as if you could commit the rest of your life to chasing the Chairman.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been meeting these people more frequently. Is it just that now I’m meeting older people who have had the chance to fully mature? That I myself am able to more fully recognize the value of such people?
I want to become one of these people. Someone who inspires.
Had Ardbeg (standard expression) for our whiskey tasting yesterday. Whoa, I think this is the first time that I genuinely started liking whiskey. It’s about 50ish ppm phenols (most peaty standard expression) and the flavor was so completely different from other whiskeys I’ve had. This one was just sharp smoked meat, really. Like the meat my grandmother would smoke in our backyard with dried orange peels. None of that weird sweetness that you get from darker whiskeys… although I think that “weird” sweetness is something that one is supposed to strive for.
Posted March 8, 2012 at 10:29pm
Everything is so beautiful right now
Ballet ended early today so I treated myself to a midday café break.
Free Speech Movement Café. There was an empty seat inside but I wanted to be outside in the light and the breeze, like that summer two summers ago when I sat down with Jamie, like that summer four summers ago when I sat down with —-.
My exuberance is restrained. Sitting in the damaging sun is never an option, so my shoulders and toes are cold.
The black coffee has just cooled from scalding to barely drinkable. If I put the hole up to my mouth and take sips of air my taste receptors can still pick up the bitterness.
Ingrid Michaelson: Girls and Boys. The fragile echoing coldness of this album is perfect for this moment. I’m in such a better place than I was last month, when the world was a frightening avalanching frenzy.
My ankle is getting better. Running is getting rare but is thoroughly enjoyable.
I waitressed for the first time at Karma Kitchen. Honest praise is nice. I became that person I occasionally become, all smiles and grace and genuine concern.
I met a colleague at work. She works for the Bioenergy Analysis Team at EBI. She is so different than my safe-path friends and self. She went to international school for high school in Britain, and came to Virginia for undergrad. She moved to SF after graduating (justbecause) and she’s living.
(We discussed these things for an hour over Strada coffee, treated by our boss, after the Haas shooting yesterday).
It is possible that I detest the taste of black coffee. But every time I have it, the intensity of its flavor brings all of these moments to the surface.
Posted November 16, 2011 at 12:06pm
Q
It's not creepy if I follow you back and introduce myself! Shirley, just graduated in May, and glad you're enjoying my inane ramblings! How about you, stranger?
from:stasis
A
YAYY! I’m a senior. What won me over was your tea posts, Chinese movie posts, math comics, ability to surf the internet, HOT halloween costume, and of course, tea&cookies with your dad. (so yeah lots of things)
CRAP I don’t know how to use tumblr apparently. So now this is published. Wonderful.
My summer of Romance and Tea is now long gone, and to be truthful, I’ve since used my running as my sole method of detoxification. My teapot has been sitting on our kitchen counter for the past month untouched.
I opened it up tonight. Heated water from a freshly changed Brita filter. Measured a few shakes of rolled oolong into the strainer. Poured some tea into my special cup.
I closed my eyes.
Inhale.
There it was, the light, fragrant scent. Still faithfully preserved by its metal storage tin. My lungs filled slowly, then paused. I pursed my lips.
Exhale.
Tiny droplets of steam rushed madly up to cling to my opening pores. Deep, slow, complete breaths.
Inhale.
The calming scent.
Exhale.
The cleansing steam.
More breaths. When I feel ready, I lift the cups to my hesitant lips. They part a distance to allow a small amount of the hot liquid to enter. I let it roll like a wide wave over my tongue, then press it into the dome between my tongue and the roof of my mouth before swallowing.
