Life is too damn short. TOO DAMN SHORT. And lately, it seems as if my life is flashing before my eyes on a large projector screen as I watch idly, instant replays. I’m helpless and can’t do much to change anything right now. I watch as I am haunted by regrets in slow motion.
I’m not a professional dancer. I have never appeared on So You Think You Can Dance. I never made it as a figure-skater, or into the Hartford Symphony Orchestra. I’m not a teacher, I haven’t changed the world, I don’t own my own business, I am not famous and I am still single. Now does that sound like the type of life that you would want to lead? It’s certainly not the kind of life that I want to lead. I mean, if I were to die tomorrow, I would not be happy knowing that I have failed, I am not financially dependent and I have failed my parents.
So what is it then? There is something about failure and taking risks that has me so unbelievable paralyzed. Each day, each breath is like another struggle.
I made poached pears for the first time, in a vanilla sugar water. It was magical. Poached pears are God’s gift to this Earth. They are so delicate, like walking on air.
Making poached fruit does not take long at all. A couple minutes of your time. Most of the work is done while the fruit is seeped in water.
Who said you can’t buy happiness? This is exactly what it looks like.