and now it's february again.
snow has tackled the ground here, making the world miserable. it's time for soup, it's time for tea, it's time to take a deep breath and remind ourselves that winter isn't forever.
i had a strange experience today that made me realize how out-of-the-norm my food and anthropology driven thoughts might be. while not going into too much detail, the small thought here is this: there is a whole world/community of food writers out there. there is not a large anthropological community. maybe the very nature of studying communities repels the creation of new ones and limits comfortable conversation to academic publications.
since i never seem to know where i'm going or how far flung to one field or another i may end up, it seems increasingly apparent that perhaps this little place might not fit in either community (be it real or imaginary). i don't write recipes. i haven't completed the graduate level of schooling (yet... or started it... yet). and i go through a ridiculous amount of literature and media that isn't always genre-specific but often relates and reinforces the underlying concepts i'm slowly working on connecting. half of the time i write intelligently and coherently and the other half of the time i'm lucky my sentences don't spiral on incessantly. i don't like to use capital letters because that might be misconstrued as being too assertive.
i think right now i'd really just like to go make some more tabasco cinnamon sugar cookies. that would make everything a lot better.