Chocolate Cakes and Hawaiian Princesses

I just sat here and wrote some good shit. I walk away from the keyboard and it fully disappeared. I’m sick and jet lagged.The six hour time difference has me up late into the morning, actually, maybe it’s the housewives. My couch is my new bestfriend because the livingroom is the coolest place in my home. I grew up a locked in my room kid. Every now and then, I would creep out into the living room, or open my room door and sing loudly, and scurry back in when someone came home. My safe space. To be able to have a place that is all mine, decorate it just how I want and be as foolish as I wanna be in every room, yeah, I can never show enough gratitude for this blessing.

I am a sociologist.

I like to think so at least.

Or maybe a voyuer?

I love reality shows. I really want to write a paper about the price of fame and even though I truly enjoy watching, I could not say it’s a worthwhile venture. There are outliers of course but overall many of these people are relegated solely to reality shows, almost unable to return to “regular life.” Maybe it’s because they don’t want to or they feel they can’t. Watching these so-called friendships dissolve, “repair” and dissolve again is mind-boggling. If the cause isn’t the cameras, the public perception must be that much more polarizing. Many of the early seasons seem to start off as true to self as can be, when you know you’re being filmed at least, but as time goes on the personas start to play a major role. The egos are so big on this show, chile. But what does all the shade, labels and money really mean in the end when you're rather unhappy with yourself? I give kudos to them for being about to put themselves on front street for public consumption. For building up high and tearing down as low as possible.

As much of myself as I’ve shared online, I don’t want to know what groups of folks think of me and my personal choices.

I never want to be rude and nasty, mean…yes, sometimes, but kind overall and authentic moreso.

I had the worst “Sunday scaries.” I was dreading going back to work only because I wanted to bask in my Hawaiian glow a bit longer, both in aura and skin color. I’m looking extra radiant and feeling myself needless to say. I will stop checking myself out in the mirror…tomorrow. I gave out my lovely little souvenirs and enjoyed catching up with my coworkers. I actually enjoy the people I work with, it makes the job bearable. I was so relaxed and the 170 emails hanging over my head didn’t feel good. I got them down to a good 30-or-so that really needed to be handled. My boss is away on vacation but he kicked even more emails my way. I could only do my best, boo, and I didn't stress myself out to do more than that.

One thing baking is reinforcing for me, which I know I need, is to slow down. You cannot rush mixing the ganache, especially not by boiling the heavy cream on high. You cannot rush baking the cake and eating or serving a half-done dessert. Cake baking is so relaxing. Until it’s not. Don’t tell my coworkers I dropped an egg shell in the cake as it was mixing. The extra crunch is purposeful. I baked two delicious, moist, dark chocolate cakes. I’m putting my product out for free, sweetening everyone’s days. The chocoalte cake disappears in 20-minutes and maybe 40-minutes for the carrot cake. I’ve made a few skeptics believers with that one. It’s free because I enjoy it but I’ve got a few people asking about orders.

The price of the brick is going up!

Your pusher woman,

xoxo,

Ashanti