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Monday, May 7, 2012

Naff: it's a word, shuddup.

Urgh, so I'm going through one of those completely naff existential crisis phases.

It's just so boring, how can I be so cliche?! My strong willed, confident female self is horrified.

But those truths aside, why do my feelings not just do whatever my brain tells them to do? Seriously, get with the program, feelings!

...It's kind of a dirty word, right? *Feeeeeelings*. Urgh!

I do know what's going on, and I do know the best remedy is to drink a cup of concrete, princess, and harden the fuck up; but that's still no magic wand.

The marvellous Married One is a hairs breadth from handing in her thesis, and I just made risotto.

I need my heart to stop pining for the-one-who-rejected. It's a chorizo broccoli risotto, the Baby One's Ex cooked me a fabulous chorizo mushroom version last night, and I'm so inspired right now (my contrib was a parfait for desert).

I'm feeling ridiculously, *ridiculously* insecure and unlovable and my risotto needs some kind of creamer, a tablespoon of cream cheese stirred through, perhaps.

I'm not a fan of the grieving process, I miss my tea-buddy, and it jumps out at me at unpredictable moments. The chorizo I brought for my risotto could be a little spicier.

Is my thesis good enough? Do I have enough data? Is my writing 'scientific' enough? Would blue cheese have ruined my risotto?

Am I going to find a good postdoc? Find love? Find a good strong Parmesan for future risottos?

Blah blah blah insecure, unlovable blah blah blah, mushrooms browned in butter would have made a perfect topping for my risotto.

Do I matter? To the world? To individuals? To risotto aficionados?



Yeah. Risotto.



What did you have for dinner?

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