This song has me nostalgic for my childhood and summer. The simple freedom of the season and of that age are what I miss. I knew that childhood was fleeting, even at that age, which made growing up a strange experience: I didn't want it to happen because of what I would lose, while knowing it was inevitable. Not that I would want to live a Peter-Pan life anyway, ha. That's a whole can-of-worms on its own.
I wonder what I'm waiting for, what is it that I think will motivate me, or inspire me, to start living my life the way I would like to? What's the hold-up? Fear? Fear that if I truly try, and I fail, I won't even have the hope of what could have been? Fear that if I go in the directions I want to, I'm letting go of what I know, trying to balance on a tightrope with little confidence in my ability to make it to the other side? The fear that if I really rely on myself, really embrace the responsibility to myself, that I will not be able to fulfill it or that I will wander down a path that I would not be able to return from if it doesn't pan out?
After all this philosophizing, I realize I have so much more to grow. The amount of cynicism I hold doesn't necessarily correlate with how mature I really am XD I wish maturity/growth/wisdom was guaranteed as we got older.
Maria Taylor's "Time Lapse Lifeline"
3.22.2011
3.04.2011
"It's Okay to Not Be Okay"
Sometimes a song can give the best advice that others can't find the words for or the means to give. I feel a little adolescent for quoting song lyrics to represent how I feel or what I'm thinking about, however, words (may they be my own or others') have the great power to connect and clarify the emotional and mental blur that overwhelming feelings/moods can be. The song is encouraging, and a little positive reminder of the possibilities that remain no matter what's going on in life, is enough to change perspective for the better.
2.22.2011
1.29.2011
Falling Up . . .
I hope I remember to incorporate the unexpected and whimsical into my home, when I finally become a 'grown-up' and create a home of my own, on my own. I hope the same for my life, otherwise, I think I might run the risk of not really living.
(Picture by Polly Reford via Anthology Magazine)
1.22.2011
Chillin' like Villains . . .
This Thursday, I got the chance to hang out with my two favorite Indians, Ruby and Tresa, before we'd all get busy with classes again. As a sort-of farewell, we decided to go eat in Astoria, rather than simply schlepping to our local cafe/bakery to waste our lives away together. We tried out Harissa, a Mediterranean restaurant-cafe on 34th St. and 30th Ave. I actually woke up early enough for it to still be considered morning, and so we arrived when it was basically empty, with only two other customers occupying the restaurant. The owner (I'm assuming) was chilling at a back table on his laptop, but welcomed us when we came in. The place was small but comfortable, with nice jazzy-ish music playing in the background. We took forever to order, because we're hungry, indecisive, nearly-broke college students, which naturally makes any restaurant outing into a slightly awkward affair. But that's okay, since I revel in the awkward. To give ourselves more time to think things over, we decided to get coffee first. I ordered a cappuccino, and the other two a latte and a regular coffee. We all got cappuccinos. I know it's a little thing, but it wasn't busy and my friend who ordered the regular coffee was still charged for a cappuccino. Eh, again it's more of an irritation rather than an offense, but I take my coffee seriously XD.
The menu contained a variety of food, ranging from hearty salads, to rice-meat dishes, sandwiches, soups, etc. I ordered a Cubano sandwich, which contained grilled chicken, bell peppers, an avocado-based sauce, and other seasonings. Tresa ordered the Kofta sandwich, and Ruby ordered the Falafel salad. Both sandwiches came with a side of fries and the salad came with hummus and pita. The food was definitely yummy. It wasn't orgasmic, life-changing, or anything insane, but it tasted wonderful. When we were almost done with out food, a regular customer came in with a friend to buy a chocolate covered croissant--which was crescent-shaped temptation--and was talking to the owner (who seemed to be the only one working in the store). The friend of the regular turned the convo to ethnic origins (in an amiable way), and because there was no logical way to keep any convo private (including our own) in the mostly empty place, we heard, laughed at, and so became part of there's. When the guys left, the owner commented on how everyone wants to know what you are, where you're from. It's ridiculous sometimes how people always want to know where you're from, and if you're not the same ethnicity as the questioner, similar/close-enough is acceptable as a means to connect to the other as well. It's apparent in every culture, I guess. It's not a bad thing, I just find it interesting that ethnic location can hold so much weight and lead to such an instant connection for some people. I've encountered that question so many times in my life, growing up in a diverse neighborhood, and living near a South Asian community. That question bothered me as a kid because I was a private person and felt that people would define their idea of me around the answer to that question.
I wish a place like this was closer to my neighborhood. The owner was welcoming and found us amusing for sure, the food and coffee were good. Harissa seemed like a place where I could become a regular, spend a few hours with friends over a cup of coffee and a croissant.
And because we're fat-asses, we left Harissa, now in search of a bakery. We walked around, window-shopping, ended up buying shoes, talking and eating along the way. Though cold, it was a day well spent in my book.
Harissa Mediterranean Restaurant
34-05 30th Ave
Queens, NY 11103
The menu contained a variety of food, ranging from hearty salads, to rice-meat dishes, sandwiches, soups, etc. I ordered a Cubano sandwich, which contained grilled chicken, bell peppers, an avocado-based sauce, and other seasonings. Tresa ordered the Kofta sandwich, and Ruby ordered the Falafel salad. Both sandwiches came with a side of fries and the salad came with hummus and pita. The food was definitely yummy. It wasn't orgasmic, life-changing, or anything insane, but it tasted wonderful. When we were almost done with out food, a regular customer came in with a friend to buy a chocolate covered croissant--which was crescent-shaped temptation--and was talking to the owner (who seemed to be the only one working in the store). The friend of the regular turned the convo to ethnic origins (in an amiable way), and because there was no logical way to keep any convo private (including our own) in the mostly empty place, we heard, laughed at, and so became part of there's. When the guys left, the owner commented on how everyone wants to know what you are, where you're from. It's ridiculous sometimes how people always want to know where you're from, and if you're not the same ethnicity as the questioner, similar/close-enough is acceptable as a means to connect to the other as well. It's apparent in every culture, I guess. It's not a bad thing, I just find it interesting that ethnic location can hold so much weight and lead to such an instant connection for some people. I've encountered that question so many times in my life, growing up in a diverse neighborhood, and living near a South Asian community. That question bothered me as a kid because I was a private person and felt that people would define their idea of me around the answer to that question.
I wish a place like this was closer to my neighborhood. The owner was welcoming and found us amusing for sure, the food and coffee were good. Harissa seemed like a place where I could become a regular, spend a few hours with friends over a cup of coffee and a croissant.
And because we're fat-asses, we left Harissa, now in search of a bakery. We walked around, window-shopping, ended up buying shoes, talking and eating along the way. Though cold, it was a day well spent in my book.
Harissa Mediterranean Restaurant
34-05 30th Ave
Queens, NY 11103
Ugh, why can't I make coffee like this D:
The Falafel salad with hummus and pita. I stole one of the falafels, and they tasted fresh and were moist.
The Cubano and Kofta sandwiches.
The Falafel salad with hummus and pita. I stole one of the falafels, and they tasted fresh and were moist.
The Cubano and Kofta sandwiches.
Some interesting signs we encountered during our wandering:
I just liked that there was a pub named sissy.
The front of the bus said Ferrari; I had to take a double take.
I found it really disturbing there was a children's clothing store called "Temptation for Kids," and a little ironic that the store's "boy's department" displayed white frocks.
I really want a dog . . . can I adopt them all?? I never figured myself to be a dog person, but the puppies grew on me.
I just liked that there was a pub named sissy.
The front of the bus said Ferrari; I had to take a double take.
I found it really disturbing there was a children's clothing store called "Temptation for Kids," and a little ironic that the store's "boy's department" displayed white frocks.
I really want a dog . . . can I adopt them all?? I never figured myself to be a dog person, but the puppies grew on me.
12.29.2010
Wish List . . .
I'm lusting after this library (or bookstore, not sure). I wish I could spend some time spoiling my inner book worm by exploring all the floors and shelves.
12.22.2010
First day of a new season . . .
Yay, it's officially Winter! I love the moody-colored skies, bright sunshine, and the warm and fuzzy clothes needed to stay alive in the chill XD
Had three finals today, leaving me with a few lab reports to do before the semester comes to an end. I'm grateful for the month-long break.
Had three finals today, leaving me with a few lab reports to do before the semester comes to an end. I'm grateful for the month-long break.
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