Bloating. Even the word itself is ugly. It feels round and insulting. Normally, these descriptive words would translate directly to how I feel towards my own bulging belly. However, now, I am working towards the opposite (even as difficult as it is).
I miss being able to hug my family members. I miss smiling at familiar, unmasked faces on my college campus. I miss screaming at concerts until I have no voice left, as I move in sync with sweaty bodies around me. I miss cozy sleepovers filled with hysterical laughing fits. I miss being able to spontaneously leave my house, without needing a real reason why. I miss sitting in classrooms with my peers. I miss seeing others in person. I miss browsing at the grocery store without worrying about bringing a deadly sickness back home to my loved ones. I miss not having to live in constant fear about the state of the world around us.
It’s no secret, we’re in the middle of a pandemic. Schools and work places have gone online, people are confined to their homes, and everyone seems to be on edge. Though, if you read my last blog post, you’ll know I am not one to sulk in sadness. Rather, I try to look on the bright side of every (and I mean every) situation. Do I regret all of the little things that I had taken for granted in the months leading up to this crisis? Absolutely. Have I been continuously thinking about what life would be like right now if we weren’t in quarantine? Without a doubt. Have I let these thoughts consume my mind in its entirety? Some days it feels this way.
However, if I have learned anything from this pandemic, it’s that no aspect of life should taken for granted. (Not once did I expect to yearn for the opportunity to put away my groceries without having to wipe them down first.) Thus, I’ve been trying to be more appreciative of all of the little things around me.
And, to push this one step further and counter these feelings of despair, I have given myself a task.
Picture this. You’re seated at a rectangular table with your family, at a restaurant you’ve never been to before. A slight breeze from the swinging kitchen doors swirls around your legs as waiter after waiter brings out steaming trays of exotic-looking, colorful foods. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of the chefs at the grill, turning over pink cuts of meat with sharp silver tongs. The stovetop sizzles as the cuts are laid to rest, with oil popping around them. Finally, a plate is placed before you. Fleshy white meat sits in neatly thinned slices, aside a vibrant lemon wedge. A citrusy armona dances in the air as you gently squeeze droplets of lemon onto the fish. After tearing off a small chunk of the juicy meat, you gingerly place it on your tongue, letting the flavor soak in. The zesty taste of the lemon blends perfectly with the peppered breading that coats the fish. This is your first time trying seafood, and you are beyond satisfied.
If only my experiences trying seafood went exactly like that. On the contrary, I cannot name a single time where I have found any sliver of happiness while eating fish.
When my boyfriend and I decided to go out to breakfast after a night filled with greasy pizza, an entire tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, and other nighttime festivities, my stomach couldn’t stop churning. Like most URI students, I can attest that the “Sunday scaries” are real.
More times than not when I go out to breakfast, my options are slightly limited as a vegetarian. Typically, I can choose between the sugary-goodness of stacked French toast or plate-sized chocolate chip pancakes. Now, don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely die for either of those dishes. However, following a junk food-filled weekend, I craved a little bit of a change. I am by no means a strictly clean eater, but I am a strong believer in eating your colors.
So, when we settled on visiting T’s Restaurant in Narragansett, Rhode Island for breakfast, I knew I was in for a treat.
“The beginning is the most important part of the work.”– Plato
It has been months since I last wrote a post on here. Although it makes me feel decently ashamed of myself for not keeping up with something I truly love doing, I need to accept that this whole blogging/writing/journaling thing will take a bit of time to get the knack of. It is a learning curve, after all.
Excuses for why I haven’t been writing are unnecessary. Life happens, priorities get off track. All that matters is that I’ve come back to it and have not given up blogging for good.
I miss my mom every second of every day.
I feel it most at night, when I’m laying awake by myself. There are only so many things that can distract your mind when you’re in the silence of a darkened room.
It happens with long car rides too. Car rides can actually be the worst. I have an hour and a half drive from my university to my hometown, and doing it alone is enough to drive me mad some days. Podcasts aren’t so effective if your brain chooses to ignore them, no matter how hard you try to listen.
This summer, my boyfriend and I got lost driving through Canada. And, I mean lost. No cell service, no maps, and very little knowledge of the French language.
This may sound like an opportunity for adventure, an opportunity to just throw our heads back and have a spontaneously care-free drive until we somehow stumbled upon our destination.
But, that’s just not how life works (at least mine, anyway).
A friend of mine has been trying out a bunch of healthy, protein-filled recipes lately and shared this one with me, because of my undying love for bananas and pancakes.
And, let me tell you, it did not disappoint.
This minimal-ingredient, super simple recipe is perfect for quickly filling your belly up on mornings when you have a little bit of extra time, but not the entire day to be cooking.