I don't want to hate myself just for loving someone.
But I hate that I love people at my own expense.
What does unconditional love really mean?

Hershey's Kisses

Today in acting class we did an exercise involving dirty clothes and all the memories we could muster.

The directions: to fold all of the laundry in front of the class while telling the story of our lives. Mixing a completely mundane activity with an exposition of everything that led up to the product we were today, all in front of near strangers.

I was in for many surprises.

Getting to know classmates I never intended to know turned out to be a very rewarding experience. In my opinion, there's a big problem in the world with judging by face value; I am a chronic culprit of this. But as soon as somebody's story is revealed and the steps are retraced, suddenly there is empathy. And this understanding always paints the realization of how beautiful this person we just previously wrote off is and how much they have to offer. I'm not saying I wrote anyone off or do so often, but that I have found such a high level of appreciation for the people in my acting class, folding somebody's Cleveland Browns t-shirt in front of us. And for the people in this world in general.

But surprisingly, it wasn't just about the story they were telling that sparked my interest. I was also intrigued by the folding. Some would fold quickly and efficiently; others would improvise. Some would fold clothes against their bodies, others against the table surfaces. Some would fold, fold, fold, and fold one article of clothing in to nice, small packages, while others were done in two strokes. How they did things, how they finished a job...that was also on display in front of us.

And then it was my turn. 

The thing that struck me the most was how scared I was to tell my story, yet how excited I was to share it. And through my nerves, I began to talk. And I talked. And I kept talking and I kept folding...and suddenly the laundry was folded and I was at the end of my story.

Through all of my life, I always kept my focus on accomplishments. If I were to tick off the most important parts of my twenty years, it would be winning the ASYO concerto competition, organizing a benefit concert for the ASO, getting into CIM, etc. 

Yet as I told the "story of my life", none of these thoughts even crossed my mind. Only family. My family and everything they had done for me.

The times when my brother and I would wait outside on the doorstep for Mom to bring home the free hamburger she got while working at McDonald's that day.

Playing on the playground Dad built for us.

Eating the peanut butter and ham sandwiches Dad made for me to bring to school every day.

Mom moving back home.

Peter going to Columbia Law.

And in the end...isn't that what life is about? The people that gave to you and the people you give to?

Love.

And love in its purist form: family.

----

Peppermint Cake Pops

  

Dried flowers are so lovely.

They're so fragile, but they exude such peacefulness and reminiscence. 

You can put them in old Orangina bottles with rice and a ribbon.

Or put them in a mason jar with layers of sweet things inside.

You can pot them up as everlasting, no-need-to-water floral decorations.

 ....and even bedazzle them! All you need is hair spray and glitter.

And wa-la! Your room is instantly a little bit sweeter :)

How do you decorate your room?

---

Pumpkin Pie

I hear You say,
"My love is over,
It's underneath.
It's inside,
It's in between. 
The times that you doubt Me
When you can't feel,
The times that you question
'Is this for real?'
The times you're broken,
The times that you mend,
The times you hate me,
And the times that you bend.

"Well my love is over,

It's underneath.

It's inside,

It's in between.

The times that you're healing

And when your heart breaks...

The times that you feel like you've fallen from grace. 

The times you're hurting,

The times that you heal,

The times you go hungry and are tempted to steal.

In times of confusion,

In chaos and pain,

I'm there in your sorrow under the weight of your shame. 

I'm there through your heart-ache.

I'm there in the storm.

My love I will keep you by My power alone,

I don't care where you've fallen or where you have been

I'll never forsake you,

My love never ends.

It never ends."

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."  - John 14:27

-----

Chai Shortbread Cookies

Un jour mon prince viendra,
Un jour il me dira
Ces mots d'amour, si troublants et tendres
Que j'aurais tant plaisir à entendre !
Qu'il vienne, je l'attends,
Craintive et cœur battant,
Dans ses bras, alors,
Mon beau rêve enchanté
Deviendra réalité !




---------

Green Tea Cookies

Why do we care about what other people think?

Why do thoughts that could never physically come out and touch us or hurt us, torture us so effectively? 

Why does it matter?

It doesn't, that's what.

Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind...don't matter.

--Dr. Seuss

...and if all else fails, hug somebody you can always count on <3

------

Raspberry Chocolate Souffle

So, insomnia part two.
Insomnia is not your best friend...and unfortunately this not-so-best-friend has been visiting me often.
But instead of fighting it, I welcomed it in and asked it to play games with me.

Last night, we made a painting.

This painting as a lot of meaning to me actually. The music in the background is Claude Debussy's only string quartet in g minor. I chose specifically the 3rd movement of this four movement piece. The recording is below, and if you have just 9 minutes of your time and you need to be taken away, be taken away by this. If not, I suggest you to just stop at 5:10 and listen for just 10 seconds, to the most beautiful, heart-wrenching, tear inducing phrase...my gosh.

Working on this all night compelled me to contact one of the members of the quartet to thank them for their contribution to great music. As a violin performance major and an avid chamber musician, this was something I truly treasured. I managed to find the first violinist and emailed him.

I was worried...did he want some kid bothering him? Had he forgotten about this recording? Is it rude for me to just email him out of the blue?

But his response was so wonderful that I knew that I had been right to show my gratitude. His kind words were so appreciative, I was so happy I could make him happy today.

Never be shy to tell someone about how great they are. It will always be worth it.

----