One of the most difficult ideas for my to wrap my head around is that I have the rest of my life.

Years and years and years. I could go to grad school in two years, or in five, or in ten; I can work one job for a while, and then work a different job, and then pick a Career, and then change my mind and pick a different one. The way I live now won’t be the way I live forever, and that means I should always try to enjoy what I’m doing because I might never be doing it the same way again. It also means that I don’t have to compare myself to my peers as if there’s a timeline I need to adhere to. The course of everyone’s life is different.

That is such a weird and abstract concept for me, because I’m used to being on a set track (ie school) where everyone moves at the same pace and makes decisions about the same things at the same time). I’m struggling with the new.

Are my prose expectations for YA too high, or is this book substandard? An important question.

Today was not a good day. Proven Remedy:

  • egg and swiss grilled cheese
  • boyfriend’s sweatshirt
  • my favorite tea (loashan black with toasted wild rice and cacao nibs, mhhhhmmm)
  • harry potter

Oops, your milkshake brought the inquisition to your yard.

unstodgyhistory:

It’s the middle ages, you’re experiencing some miraculous and obviously divine lactations, and you are THRILLED. I mean, who wouldn’t be! So comfy. The problem is, your entire village gets into an uproar over it, and your mum’s best friend’s sister tells her weaver cousin in the village over yonder about it, and the next thing you know, your parish priest is banging on your door in the middle of the night, and he writes to the bishop, and all of a sudden you’re kind of a celebrity.

You die soon, which is sad, but it’s not the end of your problems; after you die your entire village wants to see you canonized as an honest-to-goodness saint, so they can pray for your intercession on behalf of the souls of their dead family members. But the church is like, PROVE IT. And your priest is like f…uuuuckk, because how can you prove or disprove sanctity? How do we know you’re a divine favorite, and not just a nutter?

Which us brings us back to the quote I posted, and the following question: how did people in the middle ages seek to prove the godliness of their would-be saints? And why did this become more difficult over time? (For that matter, this being the 13th century and the absence of special agent Dana Scully acutely felt, what was proof of anything?)

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wynesthesia said: those carrots and green beans look amazing wowww. what is the purple thing an eggplant? and the peppers my goodness

yes to all of this. the skinny peppers are sweet and the bigger one is a spicy hungarian heirloom type. and underneath the green beans are another type of bean, a whiteish purple-spotted kind called Dragon Tongue. There’s probably 3 pounds of beans there. I’m gonna freeze some! I’M SO EXCITED BECAUSE FRESH FOOD.

I definitely recommend making friends with a farmer.
CSA share featuring an insane amount of organically grown veggies, fruits, and herbs, several of them heirloom varieties, for way cheaper than it would cost to buy them in a store. (Not pictured: two large watermelon).
Now I just have to decide how to eat all these beauties!

I definitely recommend making friends with a farmer.

CSA share featuring an insane amount of organically grown veggies, fruits, and herbs, several of them heirloom varieties, for way cheaper than it would cost to buy them in a store. (Not pictured: two large watermelon).

Now I just have to decide how to eat all these beauties!

Second September since graduating college and it still feels really weird and sad and demoralizing not to be taking classes. 

Austen keeps reminding me that even though I’m not in school, I’m still learning; I’m just learning how to do things like budget wisely, live in the city, travel on my own, make new friends, etc. 

Everything in my life, for the first time, is now a choice. That is both wonderful and terrible. I chose to live in this city. I chose this apartment. I choose, every day, to be with the person I love. I choose which friendships to invest time and effort in. I choose to stick with this job even when the money is tight. I choose to challenge myself. 

Last night I chose to berate myself to tears. Today I choose instead to be kind to myself. I made myself a latte. I ate a ripe nectarine. I wrote this post. I wrote down the following lines from Buddy Wakefield’s poem, “Amplified Stillness,” to carry around in my pocket:

I choose to release my hope for a better past, to discontinue boasting past glories, and to not justify any poor choice with having lived a hard life. 

I choose to speak with kindness and acceptance, even to myself.

I choose to be unapologetic for healthy living.

I choose to be unapologetic for living.

Thanks, Buddy, for reminding me that I always have a choice.