Letters to the future

Yesterday evening I was made to write a letter for myself via the Seneca. Ironically it was a very emotionally difficult day for me and I had a lot to write about. Though I don't particularly wish to share all the details here I do want to share a part of that letter.

That part is how important my friends are to me. Though yesterday's shit-show there were so many people that I could turn to for advice or just freak out about to.
There was L, who told me to have strength when I couldn't take another step forward.
T, who told me that talking about it would definitely make me feel better and offered advice of his own.
K, who told me to follow my heart (hah, most succinct advice).
S, who reminded me that I'm not the only one with these problems and that my experiences can help others through theirs.
A, who left a sea salt brownie on my desk after hearing about what happened
C, who brought me a bag of sunchips after she heard it was my comfort food
D, who listened to all my problems and consoled me through them
R, who didn't question my need for a hug but just offered his services
and S walked with me for an hour and a half, all the way into Boston when I could hardly even walk straight.

Of course there are others as well, who have been so great. Writing that, and other parts of the letter, was all part of a cathartic healing process. As I folded, stuffed, and sealed the envelope it was with the knowledge that this feeling, all these feelings were transitory. But where-ever I am when I receive that letter I look forward to remembering or reinforcing the knowledge that there are people around me who care, and people who I need to take care of in turn.

My Professor's Comments on ONE

"Who is George Goy? Go? He is a Super Star!"
"Who was that Japanese guy? He was really good too."
"And who's that guy whose name kept being mentioned? He kept being called on by those other guys."
and
"I liked the spy one. Good job."

Read the first line

I am a bad flirt.

I've always known this, mostly because I don't dedicate much time to thinking about the act of flirting, and also when I think someone is trying to engage in meaningful eye contact with me I usually find it near impossible to look at them back. But also, as I have recently discovered, that I have come to terms with my own limitations after seeing the prowess of those around me.

For a while it would bother me, perhaps I should be more seductive. Surely everyone likes to be attractive, right? But recently I've begun to think of how it feels for the other side. And I think I know how the other side feels because they are probably just like me - drawn into the allure of those who are good at what they do, but most likely never to be one of them.

For, to me, attraction isn't a hard and fast game involving touching, laughing, and sidelong glances.
Instead, it is the irresistible urge to hug someone when you're both up at the net gathering tennis balls.
The strong pull of their shoulder as you're both somewhere up in the mountains gazing silently up at the stars as a party rages just next door.
A knee brushed against my own.
An awkward invitation to a dance after it has been mulled over all day.
Sitting in the trunk of a car, chatting until the sun set.
The comfort of knowing that their front porch will always be open to you, especially when you need it most.
An honest confession.

I guess I've always been a bad flirt because love has always managed to find me in special ways. Though the love may not have always lasted, the process of getting there holds so many precious and tender moments, I certainly have been spoiled, and therefore never really had to learn the art of flirtation.

Kat's Karniyarik: Moving West

Today I felt like moving away from all the Asian foods I've done. After all, I've already tackled Korean, Thai, and Chinese. Japanese I just eat too much of anyway.

But there's really nothing American that I particularly want to eat and nothing French that I can make. Then it hit me, what is east meets west? Is it fusion food like mac and cheese sushi? NO, it's Turkish!

After today though, I must say that Turkish isn't really eats meets west, but more of a style of its own. Mmnn, stuffed eggplant.

Misery poetry

Weekend retreats were a blast
Too bad weekends never last
Now there's so much work to do
that I'm stressed through and through
mostly because I now have the flu.

Poo.

Chez Kat part deux

I realized that I never ended up uploading the food photos.

I cannot make pancake-esque food for the life of me. Might as well just give up on it. The green curry, on the other hand, turned out well. I was going to make my own green curry paste but some of the ingredients (galangal, kaffir lime) were impossible for me to find so I gave up on that right quick.

The theme, I guess, was green. Down to the margaritas that went along with this meal. Yum.

SENECA

I got in. Yey (: