Air conditioning is one of those little luxuries I don't have at my apartment in L.A., but really, it's a necessity in Sacramento. Today was 101 degrees and there was pretty much nothing to do but stay inside or dunk into the swimming pool.
Yet coming home to Sacramento means a lot more than just getting heat comatose. It means reminders of what almost all of my young life has been like. It means getting taken care of. It means learning more about what has made me who I am and how I became the way I am and how my values were formed.
The hours and days keep melding into each other and it's perhaps going over the same place I've known for most of my life that makes each day feel effortless. Perhaps I should be worrying more about what's next and perhaps I should be working harder, but when I'm home, it's vacation and my mind succumbs to the simplicities of making my bed each day, pulling out a book during my free moments, and finding clean laundry on my bed ready to be sorted.
Let responsibilities wait a little bit longer until I return to Los Angeles. Is that O.K.?
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peace. Show all posts
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Today I Appreciate Cooking Pizza By Myself while Listening to Loud Music
There are some days when you just need to cook. Today's been a day of writing, writing, writing and memorizing French. Assuaging an exhausted brain can only be remedied in one way: with mindless activity.
Cooking may not be the case for everyone. Cleaning, gardening, and organizing all seem like approximately equivalent tasks in terms of the amount of mental exertion/energy it requires. Cooking requires some motivation, of course,to create and use the side of one's brain that says "OK, Jenae, take this recipe step one, two, three, four until completion."
Following steps is a beautifully mind-numbing yet all-consuming task. Simply focusing on stirring over the stove top or chopping up an onion is a perfect and simple way to relax. I've been wanting to make homemade pizza for ages, staring at the pizza pan thrown in the cabinet with the other pots and pans, debating what to make and how to make it.
I made a really simple recipe (and used pre-made pizza dough, which definitely does not make me a very legitimately gourmet cook, but whatever) and... it was fun. I cooked for myself by myself and it was probably one of the most satisfying experiences I've had in a long time. See, I love to cook for other people and I love to entertain, but I love the lack of pressure in simply experimenting on a recipe for me. There are no expectations when I'm cooking for me. If I mess up, it's my own fault and I'm the only one who really has to suffer the consequences. I don't have to justify any culinary choices to anyone but myself. Sure, it's a little lonely in the kitchen knowing that you're the only feeding yourself, but finding happiness in autonomy and realizing that being alone does not necessarily equate to loneliness is beautiful.
Doing something like cooking by yourself, too, provides an opportunity to just be and not worry about other people's expectations of how you should act, too. I didn't have to worry tonight about maintaining a conversation while attempting to pay attention to the stovetop. All I had to do was stir, focus on the Franz Liszt I had playing at high volume in the background, and... create great food. It's funny how simple life can be when experienced all alone every once in a while.
Now here's the greater question: to continue my culinary conquests (how's that for some alliteration) with a batch of sweet potato and walnut muffins or no?
Cooking may not be the case for everyone. Cleaning, gardening, and organizing all seem like approximately equivalent tasks in terms of the amount of mental exertion/energy it requires. Cooking requires some motivation, of course,to create and use the side of one's brain that says "OK, Jenae, take this recipe step one, two, three, four until completion."
Following steps is a beautifully mind-numbing yet all-consuming task. Simply focusing on stirring over the stove top or chopping up an onion is a perfect and simple way to relax. I've been wanting to make homemade pizza for ages, staring at the pizza pan thrown in the cabinet with the other pots and pans, debating what to make and how to make it.
I made a really simple recipe (and used pre-made pizza dough, which definitely does not make me a very legitimately gourmet cook, but whatever) and... it was fun. I cooked for myself by myself and it was probably one of the most satisfying experiences I've had in a long time. See, I love to cook for other people and I love to entertain, but I love the lack of pressure in simply experimenting on a recipe for me. There are no expectations when I'm cooking for me. If I mess up, it's my own fault and I'm the only one who really has to suffer the consequences. I don't have to justify any culinary choices to anyone but myself. Sure, it's a little lonely in the kitchen knowing that you're the only feeding yourself, but finding happiness in autonomy and realizing that being alone does not necessarily equate to loneliness is beautiful.
Doing something like cooking by yourself, too, provides an opportunity to just be and not worry about other people's expectations of how you should act, too. I didn't have to worry tonight about maintaining a conversation while attempting to pay attention to the stovetop. All I had to do was stir, focus on the Franz Liszt I had playing at high volume in the background, and... create great food. It's funny how simple life can be when experienced all alone every once in a while.
Now here's the greater question: to continue my culinary conquests (how's that for some alliteration) with a batch of sweet potato and walnut muffins or no?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Today I Appreciate the Self-Righteous, Eclectic Coffee Shop
Eek, I've missed two days of posting! It's been a crazy, busy week first week of school, but I took some notes on the past few days, so this will be an extra-special THR (look how an acronym enhances the cool factor of this blog) post with a few days' worth of appreciations in one.
Let me also preface this post by thanking everyone for thoughtful comments on the first few posts. The encouragement really helps keep me going, so thank you. :)
So, today, I felt a little claustrophobic in Westwood and decided to get coffee in Santa Monica. This tends to happen on Friday afternoons when I have no other class obligations or meetings or work. Keeping Fridays free is one of the greatest things I've ever done for myself; I can work all day on Saturday and Sunday if I'd like, but there's something psychologically pleasant and rewarding about having a FREE (read: "I-get-to-do-whatever-I-want-so-there") Friday. This is not to say I keep my Fridays homework-less necessarily, but I get to do it at my own pace and as a student, where obligations run one's life, that's probably the most marvelous feeling in the world.
Because of the nature of the column I write for "The Daily Bruin" (unofficially called "Exploring L.A.," offically called nothing), I tend to read NFT (Not For Tourists) and Losanjealous pretty regularly and discovered in NFT a coffee shop in East Santa Monica that makes coffee from a siphon.
What's a siphon? It's this: a tube running from the liquid in a vessel to a lower level outside the vessel so that atmospheric pressure forces the liquid through the tube (definition from wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn). Yes, coffee comes out of those liquid pressure tube things. Neat, huh?
Hence, I undertook a question to find this siphon coffee place after class, toting a heavy backpack and directions scrawled on to a tiny notepad. Let me say that I have a terrible, terrible sense of direction, so I wrote down very specific instructions (including, "if you hit this street, you've gone the wrong way. If you hit THIS street, you're going the right way! Hooray!").
Walking off the bus past Wilshire Boulevard, I walked through a neighborhood of palm-tree lined streets and low-rise pastel-colored apartments with small balconies and little, square garages right near the street. It was the sort of charming West L.A. neighborhood that helps you realize that in spite of all of L.A.'s general lack of charming, refreshing pockets of humanity and character exist. It really elevates one's spirits to know that there are people living in peaceful alcoves of a city that inherently cannot be described as "peaceful."
Cafe Balcony is part of a strip mall and the sign outside merely reads "CAFE" in giant block lettering. It could just have easily read "BAIL BONDS" or "LIQUOR" as it was an inconspicuous strip mall shop facing loud, urban Santa Monica Boulevard. Yet upon stepping inside, the place engendered all of the warmth, character, and soul that the outside lacked. I was the first one in the shop (as I had arrived there on bus an hour before it opened, so I just read outside for an hour. Woops.) and I ordered an iced Americano and sat for two hours, doing homework, reading, and writing. The cafe's red walls, mismatched wooden chairs, and wacky music selection (ranging from electro-pop to alternative folk rock to smooth jazz to - get this - opera) felt like a cozy place to settle in for the day.
With each breath I took, the smell of coffee warmed me all the way through my body. Sitting there is what I imagine going to a cafe in Paris would be like (as cliche as that sounds): no one rushes you, everyone is reading their own great books and simply enjoying time to reflect, focus, and rejuvenate. I appreciate coffee shops that don't rush you out, that don't tell you when to leave, and don't encourage you to act "artsy" if you don't want to. There are a lot of pretentions around sitting in a coffee shop and "being an artist," but when it comes down to it, when you have a place like Cafe Balcony that is simply pleasant and encourages time to just sit and reflect and be, that's enough for me to not worry about what anyone else may think of me. That must ultimately be the most freeing experience and I appreciate it after a week of feeling like I had to live up to academic/social expectations.
As far as my other past few days go, I'm simply going to state what I appreciated: Wednesday I appreciated my USIE classmates (that is, other students teaching undergraduate seminars at UCLA in the spring like me) and Thursday I appreciated dancing with my co-workers to Depeche Mode (what a freeing experience that was, too!).
What a peaceful, lovely day thus far.
Let me also preface this post by thanking everyone for thoughtful comments on the first few posts. The encouragement really helps keep me going, so thank you. :)
So, today, I felt a little claustrophobic in Westwood and decided to get coffee in Santa Monica. This tends to happen on Friday afternoons when I have no other class obligations or meetings or work. Keeping Fridays free is one of the greatest things I've ever done for myself; I can work all day on Saturday and Sunday if I'd like, but there's something psychologically pleasant and rewarding about having a FREE (read: "I-get-to-do-whatever-I-want-so-there") Friday. This is not to say I keep my Fridays homework-less necessarily, but I get to do it at my own pace and as a student, where obligations run one's life, that's probably the most marvelous feeling in the world.
Because of the nature of the column I write for "The Daily Bruin" (unofficially called "Exploring L.A.," offically called nothing), I tend to read NFT (Not For Tourists) and Losanjealous pretty regularly and discovered in NFT a coffee shop in East Santa Monica that makes coffee from a siphon.
What's a siphon? It's this: a tube running from the liquid in a vessel to a lower level outside the vessel so that atmospheric pressure forces the liquid through the tube (definition from wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn). Yes, coffee comes out of those liquid pressure tube things. Neat, huh?
Hence, I undertook a question to find this siphon coffee place after class, toting a heavy backpack and directions scrawled on to a tiny notepad. Let me say that I have a terrible, terrible sense of direction, so I wrote down very specific instructions (including, "if you hit this street, you've gone the wrong way. If you hit THIS street, you're going the right way! Hooray!").
Walking off the bus past Wilshire Boulevard, I walked through a neighborhood of palm-tree lined streets and low-rise pastel-colored apartments with small balconies and little, square garages right near the street. It was the sort of charming West L.A. neighborhood that helps you realize that in spite of all of L.A.'s general lack of charming, refreshing pockets of humanity and character exist. It really elevates one's spirits to know that there are people living in peaceful alcoves of a city that inherently cannot be described as "peaceful."
Cafe Balcony is part of a strip mall and the sign outside merely reads "CAFE" in giant block lettering. It could just have easily read "BAIL BONDS" or "LIQUOR" as it was an inconspicuous strip mall shop facing loud, urban Santa Monica Boulevard. Yet upon stepping inside, the place engendered all of the warmth, character, and soul that the outside lacked. I was the first one in the shop (as I had arrived there on bus an hour before it opened, so I just read outside for an hour. Woops.) and I ordered an iced Americano and sat for two hours, doing homework, reading, and writing. The cafe's red walls, mismatched wooden chairs, and wacky music selection (ranging from electro-pop to alternative folk rock to smooth jazz to - get this - opera) felt like a cozy place to settle in for the day.
With each breath I took, the smell of coffee warmed me all the way through my body. Sitting there is what I imagine going to a cafe in Paris would be like (as cliche as that sounds): no one rushes you, everyone is reading their own great books and simply enjoying time to reflect, focus, and rejuvenate. I appreciate coffee shops that don't rush you out, that don't tell you when to leave, and don't encourage you to act "artsy" if you don't want to. There are a lot of pretentions around sitting in a coffee shop and "being an artist," but when it comes down to it, when you have a place like Cafe Balcony that is simply pleasant and encourages time to just sit and reflect and be, that's enough for me to not worry about what anyone else may think of me. That must ultimately be the most freeing experience and I appreciate it after a week of feeling like I had to live up to academic/social expectations.
As far as my other past few days go, I'm simply going to state what I appreciated: Wednesday I appreciated my USIE classmates (that is, other students teaching undergraduate seminars at UCLA in the spring like me) and Thursday I appreciated dancing with my co-workers to Depeche Mode (what a freeing experience that was, too!).
What a peaceful, lovely day thus far.
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