If zombies could bake.

A couple of posts ago I wrote “I wish I could work in a bakery or something” on a whim, I submitted a bunch of applications that night, then went to sleep. When I woke up, I had been invited to do a trial shift at a bakery, I went the next day, after 3 hours they offered me the job on the spot. Sometimes things work out that way, they’re easy and I don’t have to force anything. Sentiments of wu wei yknow? I’d like to live along that sort of line. Not that I don’t want to work hard, wait a while, or invest in things, it’s a different sort of “easy” harder for me to articulate. It’s more like, everything just being in alignment and falling into place.

I made a little post documenting some of the things I’ve been up to these past few weeks. Pressing flowers in books, the bakery job, feeling cute in my grandma cardigan, painting some, writing a lot,watching cartoons, crying a lot too. Someone commented “look at all the amazing things you do you’re such a beautiful person” that was nice of them. I don’t think it’s so amazing though, just yknow, doing hobbies, I think if I can spend my life doing things I enjoy then I won’t have wasted my life. 

So obviously there are some difficult days, but overall things are going well, it’s a lot of what I had prayed for last year yknow? If things didn’t go so seemingly horribly the last few months, there wouldn’t be so much I’m enjoying and looking forward to now. My god it was expensive though, I really lost everything. I got horny and downloaded the dating app again, came to my senses this afternoon and deleted it all, uuuhhgain! for the 50th time it feels like. Real conflict going on between the basal animal carnal instincts and the sickly sweet emotionality of my beeeeeing. More and more though I’m getting decent practice at living the way I want to. Just being yknow, uhhhh a leaf in the wind. 

When I was a toddler I had a book called The seasons of Arnold’s apple tree.  by Gail Gibbons 

I was very fond of it, we didn’t have seasons like that in Africa. I could only imagine the phenomena of trees changing with the weather. There’s something very soft in my core when I think about this book. It’s the sort of thing where, if I was a scorned villain too far gone in a movie or something, the hero would show it to me right before the climax of my evil plan, and it would shatter me. In highschool english class with Mr. Meyer, (the best teacher ever), Kim Davis offered an anecdote she had heard about a tribe somewhere that all sang a unique song for each baby that was born, all through out its childhood. When the baby grew up, if it committed some sort of transgression, the village would all gather up and sing the song unique to that person, can you imagine that? That would shatter me. 

My grandma had a song like that for me, with my original name. 

““*****,*****, how do you do? happy to see you, happyyyy to meet you!*****,***** how do you do? happy to see you my dear”

ouch!