Yesterday I made a list of people I needed to call to schedule appointments. At the top of the list: allergist. Mom called yesterday morning and said, “Have you seen the wheat doctor yet? I really want you to be able to eat bread again.” I think the next time I come to town, she’d like to be able to serve “normal food” again. It’s very difficult to eat like a proper Polish girl without pierogies. Also, I don’t like life as much without pierogies. Continue reading
Song: “Love Song”
The sound of The Cure reminds me of my first year I moved to Houston. I went to two different schools in that time, and it was a huge switch from living in Jackson, Mississsippi. The music changed completely. Back in Jackson, I was pretty much on my own in terms of finding music to listen to. I read Rolling Stone like it was a handbook to getting out of that town. I was already the weird one back then, earning the nickname “Satanic” because I liked Guns n’ Roses and Metallica much more than anything Top 40 had to offer. But once I moved to Texas, that’s when I first heard The Cure. Boy, did everything change after that. Continue reading
I met a man over the weekend who lives in a Zen Buddhist retreat. I think he’s technically a monk. He’s the kind of guy who had major life changes and then moved away, found inner peace, and now lives off of next to nothing in a remote, self-containing, life-affirming, meditation-and-chanting sort of way.
In other words, the kind of person I find fascinating, yet would never, ever want to be. I started asking him questions. Continue reading