Cafe Venus

“That’s what I love about reading: one tiny thing will interest you in a book, and that tiny thing will lead you onto another book, and another bit there will lead you onto a third book. It’s geometrically progressive — all with no end in sight, and for no other reason than sheer enjoyment.”
– Juliet Ashton (12)

Not sure where to start. I just wrote a ton of stuff and realized that it was a mess. I think there were a few things that I really wanted to just make sense of. I don’t know if this gets read by someone somewhere. This is just the best therapy I got; but I kind of understand why people do this privately. I have been meaning to actually do this privately, since this is my favorite way to write for some reason. I think that will need to change soon — when I can figure out how to make that change I will probably find more neutral things to write about here. Maybe I’ll password it so I can just have friends who’d like to see it read it.
(more…)

So I’m restless. I need to do something. Anything. Now . . .

This isn’t how I planned it. But then again, I haven’t taken the time to implement any part of my plan — uh, at least the most recent version. I should be volunteering for something, somewhere. But I don’t really know what that means. I don’t know how much time I have before I need to stop and say it’s time to grow up.
(more…)

So today was my last day, and it happened to be with the Monday crew. I arrived early, and yet I didn’t feel the ambivalence that usually permeated my days with this group. We were given an enormous pile of beets to prepare. While the others spent time slicing the beets, I tore the bulbous roots from the greens so that the group would have a pile of beets to chop. Then I spent time sorting through the beet greens. This was not the most pleasant of tasks, especially when I would get the algae-like, pickled types of rotted greens. This took the whole two-hour shift and the box of beet greens seemed endless. Nearly at the the end of my shift, Bill hands me another box of greens, seemingly full of beautiful rainbow chard. Yet this was not to be — there were only about two or three bunches of rainbow chard. The rest of the box mostly held beet caps and their greens. But these greens were in questionable condition, and I made relatively quick work of much of it.
(more…)

I spent only one hour at the Food Center today, though I usually am supposed to work two-hour shifts. I met up with some graduate students in Communication theory while working. Three other girls and I worked on preparing food, but I worked apart from them on strawberries — undoubtedly the fruit selection for tonight’s meal. I was given what seemed an endless supply of strawberries in containers. Some of them were moldy, some of them were not too bad. I was to find the best ones and cap them, leaving them whole. Bill decided that he would probably pour some kind of yogurt over them.

While chatting today, I learned that the three other girls had recently been to a bachelorette party and had played a scavenging hunt game around town retrieving various items. I accidentally hit one of the girl with a strawberry since two of the girls stood alongside the compost bin. I apologized, but I wasn’t so sure that I was forgiven. Nevertheless, as the hour progressed, it went from being unusual to pleasant, and I had actually wished I had had time to do a two-hour shift with them.

I volunteered again with the Latter-Day Saints missionaries, but they were a lot more toned-down. I think realizing that I would not be their next convert helped. Also, Carrie wasn’t expecting me; I was early, and she gave me the task of making salads.
(more…)

So I took a long break. Not intentionally, but between chiropractor’s appointments (I had gotten into a car accident trying to find Kevin the day his house burned down and his cell phone shut off — same day — no seriously) and papers, I felt unable to volunteer. Also, I was a little discouraged thinking the Monday morning crew didn’t like me so much, and I was scheduled to work Mondays mostly. The Food Center was sort of weird. I would email Helen to tell her I couldn’t make it in and ask if could come in another day. Helen wouldn’t really respond; so I would intend to go on different days and fail to make it, but felt like no one really cared anyway.
(more…)

I’m just feeling wistful, longing, needing some other part of the universe to break off and put me at peace. I wish I could just stop the world. I feel like a professor might be upset at me for not going to her class. But I just can’t care. I’m worried about what it says about my future to be all tied up like this. But I have been here before, and somehow I survived. I just can’t care anymore. I just want to feel good and not unhappy or freaked out anymore. I have just been searching for the equilibrium between my work habits and the world around me. I don’t know if I’ll ever find it. (more…)

Gutschow begins her discussion about Buddhism in Zangskar, by describing the founder of Zangskar’s largest nunnery, Yeshe. Yeshe made a pilgrimage to visit the abbot of the Ganden monastery, the third-highest ecclesiastic of the time and the head of the Dalai Lama’s sect. She also point out the honor that Yeshe received when his daughter became a nun, proffering her the honor of being led into the village mounted as a bride would be displayed. They had a particular religious status conferred by the status of their abbot and founded the first full-fledged community of nuns in Karsha village.
(more…)

So I have this friend, who I really wouldn’t call a friend. I wanted to like her, and she did a lot of things for me; but I always have the feeling that when I am with her, I am holding a snake. I wanted to not believe it. I mean after a lifetime of judgmentalism, I just wanted to believe that people are people and they are just trying. All people make mistakes and no one is perfect. Except this person has always made me sad. I get the impression that she does things out of obligation and is all smiles and acts like my best friend, but she’s just not my friend. I can feel it. I feel hurt a little bit, knowing that people can still be nice to your face and wish they really weren’t with you. I suppose it doesn’t make her a bad person exactly . . . (more…)