Misperceived. Uniform circular discs sit side by side in the oven, looking pretty and glossy as a responsible macaron should. I’ve left them in for a minute or two longer than I should, so I take them out, and realise it was the tinted oven glass that made me think they were browning. I peel one off the baking paper. It comes off as a gooey mess on my fingertips.
____________. Famous last words for hinting an anticipation to join the workforce, because at least you can still wander around in trackies and uggs as a student, because I’m feel like I’m now stuttering around like a new-born goat.
Over-doing it. So I try again. Working more quickly. More methodologically, weighing out all the ingredients to begin with rather than doing it as I add bits and bobs into the mixing bowl. Might have mixed a bit too rigorously; the next batch were just ugly porous disks.
____________. But then when do you know when it’s overworking that’s the problem, and even if you are whether it’s ok to stop?
three four five…lost count. Sometimes it’s about getting all the intricate mechanisms in mixing, folding, piping right. Other times it’s about good timing, but most of the time it’s down to luck.
_____________________________. Starting each day hoping I’ll do something right for once, and wondering how many more second chances I’ll be given. What if life will always be about going through the motions, or even beating the motions just to afford the extra five minutes just to stare into space? Or even determining what are the right motions to go through?
To answer the voice in my own head, maybe living is just down to finding that one thing that can keep you going, whether it be during the day (packed lunch of steamed rice and chicken), week (yoga Mondays), month ([to be confirmed]), year ([to be confirmed]). And to somehow not lose yourself amongst it all, whoever yourself is.
P.S. I actually had half of this post typed out in September, and somehow without me noticing, autumn has crept up upon us. Two months ago I broke into a sweat wherever I walked, now I’m thankful for the crisp breeze as I scurry along, cursing mornings and eternally grateful to the inventor of caffeine (and seeing as I’m so grateful I should maybe learn said inventor’s name). Thank you for those who’ve wondered whether I’ll write again, and for motivating me to do so; I’m trying (which also happens to be a word I use about 100 times a day) to find my work-life balance. And perhaps more of a note to self than anyone else, I’ll (try to) keep this going.