How I live my life.
Well, my life is really very picturesque. There are so many “MOMENTS” that make up my life. Rarely am I living dully, out of habit, or boringly routine.
I appreciate all of the moments that comprise my life. Because I make it a point to live picturesquely so that any single moment of my life can be encapsulated in a short feeling or a few beautifully strung together words. It’s that whole “je ne sais quoi” feeling where you can’t really describe what makes the moments as beautiful as they really are.
Though for example a couple of weeks ago I spent my Sunday morning baking cupcakes in very French inspired liners on my white dining table with the rays of the sun streaming in through my windows and beating against my back. Luckily there was a slight breeze. This was just a week or so before this awful heat. And then they were baked. And they got decorated so nicely. And I folded some matching carrying boxes that fits just 4 cupcakes. Then I headed to lunch with the family. And when I came back I resumed my lazy Sunday.
And then the next day I took my cupcakes in their pretty liners and matching boxes and made deliveries.
I recorded a video of someone eating my cupcake. A reaction shot, if you will. And then I received a gorgeous smiling photo of pure pleasure of my baby cousin sticking his face into one of my cupcakes with chocolate smeared all over his face. And seeing people enjoying a small moment of life really made me feel happy.
This is what I consider living… picturesquely, where any moment lived can be captured as a feeling of beauty.
But then of course I offered cupcakes to J – more than happy to make the 20+ mile drive just to drop off cupcakes. And he said, “that’s a lovely gesture, but I don’t want any cupcakes.” To me this was pure denial of living and enjoying a life moment. He had not denied me, but denied a MOMENT. The moments that I so cherish. And that comprise my entire living, my entire being. He could have tossed them in the damn trash can for all I care. Or just left them in the box, unopened, while I made the heartfelt personal delivery. It was not so much about eating the actual cupcakes as the act of friendship that it symbolized.
I couldn’t give a damn about the actual cupcakes at the point of delivery. It would be about spending a few minutes together, smiling, laughing, and talking about how I made the cupcakes and how I think the frosting could have had a better texture because I used the wrong kind of sugar, or how I failed to have all-purpose flour and instead had to use cake flour.
It’s like scenes in movies where two people go to a coffee shop or a diner and order something very delicious but perhaps don’t partake in actually eating it. It’s the MOMENT I am concerned about, not the actual pastry.
And now, after a few weeks, I’m not upset. But a little confused.
Why would I still want to know someone that lives so differently from me? I am a dreamer, always and forever. Though I mean my head is screwed on pretty tightly to my body. I always acknowledge the practical alternative to my actions. I know practicality exists. But why sacrifice a beautiful dreamy moment in search of practicality?
Deepest of sighs.
Is it a lot to ask for someone equal to me? Similar to me? With a drive as high as mine? With aspirations as big as mine? With the capability to make change happen as easily as me?
I feel a little helpless here. Who you meet is left to chance. And chance is so… unpredictable. I feel such a loss of control over such a strange part of my life. A part of my life I wish were less important, more inconsequential.