Today I’m drowning my sorrows and fears and stress in milk and chocolate oatmeal no-bake cookies. It started when I woke up at 10 am and realizing I’d slept through my 5:15 am alarm and two classes. I’d like to gasp in shock, swearing up and down that this is so unlike me! But let’s be real. I pull shenanigans like this all the time. And that got me thinking about what a failure I am.
Failure at what?
Be more specific.
Okay, life in this society.
What society is that?
21st Century America?? I don’t know!
Pardon my schizophrenia.
But I really do feel like a giant, culture-clashing failure most of the time. I’m fairly certain the Hipsters wouldn’t even take me. It’s pretty bad when you don’t even fit in with your society’s “nonconformists.” I think I just value different things from the rest of this society. I don’t care about money or success or a career or a nice house. I want to buy a big piece of land and live as simply as I can. But if you have read my post “Portland, the First Thanksgiving, and some apparently Communist leanings,” you probably know that already. Most days I don’t even know why I went to college. I know, I know. I have to get a degree if I ever want to be a teacher (and I do so want to be a teacher), but I just really, truly hate college.
I texted my boyfriend today saying, “I wish I had some faint idea of what my purpose is in this society against which I clash so violently.” Poor guy. He gets a gold star for dealing with my irrational emo self today. Then I plopped into this chair with the milk and cookies to wallow in self-pity and dwell on how much I don’t want to be doing what I’m doing in life right now. But unfortunately, that gloriously pessimistic thought begged a disappointingly productive question.
What do I want to do?
Nope. No comment. Too deep for today. My brain is fried and I refuse to think. So I slammed my mind shut in the question’s face and ate my cookies. But while I mentally jammed my shoulder up against the door to make sure it didn’t burst open, the answer climbed in the window. Sneaky little bugger.
I want to drown people’s sorrows and fears and stress in milk and chocolate oatmeal no-bake cookies.
Honestly, it’s not a new thought. I’ve known it for years that hospitality is my thing, but today was a good reminder. Someday, when I have my piece of land, I want my home to be the place where my world-weary friends can come and unload the heavy things they carry and rest. When relationships crumble, when employers downsize, when life happens, I want to be the one waiting for them with the milk and cookies.
Not too shabby a purpose, really.