One afternoon in Austin, while taking a break from exploring the city, I spied a pigeon sitting on the narrow ledge directly outside our hotel room window.
It was so unexpected. I grabbed my camera and moved toward him slowly.
And then, he saw me. I was sure that would be the end of our encounter.
Chris and I recently returned from a trip to Austin. He was attending the Interactive portion of South by Southwest and I took the opportunity to tag along and have myself a mini vacation. Prior to leaving, I asked Twitter and Facebook what I needed to see and where we needed to eat. As a result I ate at restaurants I probably wouldn’t have otherwise visited and I met an awesome new friend. Here are the highlights of my trip:
I’m noticing an unfortunate trend among a few of the people that I love, and I wanted to take a moment to remind everyone of something small that will make a big difference in the way you relate to the world.
And the way the world relates to you.
The things that you love, believe, and want can be good and even right, without something else being lesser or wrong. It is not necessary to deconstruct and cut down the lives and ideals (hell, even the shoes) that other people choose, or the mistakes that some people make, in order to support your own choices. Everyone has their own journey, and if you feel secure in yourself, own who you are, and truly believe in how you live—well then, that’s enough. That’s everything.
Also be aware that, even if you’re not directly disparaging those in your life, this break-down-build-up worldview can be alienating and exhausting. It’s much easier to feel positive toward someone when his or her happiness does not constantly come at the expense of something. If you’ve been standing atop a broken-down-other to justify your decisions, know that your footing will feel more secure and your happiness more sure if you’re grounded in self-adequacy instead.
You and the things you choose can be good, right, enough, without anyone else in the world being wrong. That’s not a criticism. It’s an affirmation.
Have a great week, everyone.
For me, baking is an exercise in creation.
The process is rather abstract. My mind constructs recipes by pulling from the vision of an end result, piecing together elements to bring something conceptual into existence. I imagine it and then I make it. And I tweak it if necessary from there. Ingredients come together in my head and kitchen the way my mind best relates to them: in measurements of volume (the familiar American measurements of cups and tablespoons). I enjoy the experience of scooping and leveling, practicing that deftness of hand that neither packs the cup nor leaves it loose with holes. This approach to baking produces wonderful, consistent results in my kitchen. It just works for me.
But not everybody’s brain “sees” baking this way. For people who want to create recipes of their own (and don’t have bizarre imaginations like mine) baking can be daunting. And if regular baking wasn’t intimidating enough, when a person has to eliminate gluten, baking at all can seem impossible. But it’s not. In fact, the act of creation that I experience as largely conceptual can also be experienced in very simple, numeric terms—thanks to ratios.
