Friday, June 25, 2010

Dancing around it.

You may have noticed that I've been skirting around the personal talk here lately.  I kind of am.

Let me tell you a few things about the "of lates" in my life.


-We were in Antwerp last weekend.  We saw more of the city and checked out an exhibition at the MOMU (fashion museum) on the significance/influence of the colour black in fashion throughout the ages.  The exhibition was pretty interesting and informative, and it was very cool to be so close to garments of excellent workmanship but I must say that the layout of the show was quite chaotic, and in the end it made viewing and taking in the show a little fatiguing, taking away from it, really.  In the name of preservation of the textiles the lighting was very low, and so I opted not to take photos.

-While in Antwerp, we spent a little time shopping.  Boyfriend discovered a trove of bright orange delights (he is a fan of the colour.)  I discovered that the buyer for the only Guess Jeans store in Belgium thinks that every girl in Belgium wants a bedazzled bum.  This one doesn't, and is now left wondering if she should order from Guess online, try the store in Lille, or just give up and wear skirts all the time.

- During this visit we discovered a lovely little restaurant named "Le Coup Vert" for dinner, and thought the breakfast offered by "Horta" gave an excellent start to the day, even despite our ice-queen server.  Also, I got my Starbucks fix, finally.


- Closer to home, I've been working on creating the perfect waffle.  I'm not there yet, but I'm getting closer.  It's still too buttery, and not dense enough, chewy enough, or sticky enough.


- I am being pressured asked to speak about my hopes and ideas for the future.  These are things I normally keep tucked just next to my heart, and rarely speak of.  The idea of an entire conversation centreing around these things terrifies me.  I feel that me vocalizing my dreams is akin to handing ammunition to others which they may use later to add a little extra sting for me, should I fail.  Petrified, intensely uncomfortable about this.

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Chitika