When I first moved to New York, I made three fried eggs every morning with a bowl of oatmeal because it was reliable. This stopped in January, and I have not heated a pan since then. This has a lot to do with the fact that I am busy and that I no longer read for pleasure.
Alongside my routine of frying eggs in a shallow puddle of olive oil, more people began to tell me that I am opinionated. In Chicago, the city where I moved from and lived for seven years, people mentioned this characteristic less. I really am not sure why, but I am sure it has something to do with frying eggs and not having time. Perhaps it has something to do with the subway system. It could be any number of things.
I thought this was amusing at first until it began to be irritating, and I could not see past the fact that people (more than one may realize) hate to see a woman speak her mind. A professor recently told me that he loved me for this, which was reassuring, but for the most part, this observation is often not well-received by me. I don't really know how to go about this, considering I cannot help what I like and what I don't, and I really do not see any point in the refusal to express this. Besides, as a restaurant worker, I have to hear banal opinions all the time, so I feel that I should be able to say that I think Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation is baseless and ought not to be taken seriously without being interrogated about why I believe that. And I do, by the way, which does not mean that I do not still love to read it. (Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am trans and gay, but that's more boring and predictable.)
Anyway, I haven't fried eggs in a long time, and I really do miss them. I am just busy writing, working a part-time job, and going to class, which could also mean that my opinions and statements have become more curt and not as explained as they should be because I don't have the time, really. Instead, I am buying a banana, a Clif bar, and a Chobani yogurt at the deli every morning. As you can imagine, this is becoming costly--I know--and time is also money.
I might slow down soon, relax for a bit, but this seems highly unlikely, knowing myself as well as I do. But if it happens, I might actually finish Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes, which I have taken so much pleasure in picking up and putting down. What I have been reading lately has been for class, and it is mostly dull and generally bad. As I have said, this has to do with eggs and my opinions.
Obsessions: Meir Eshel (aka Absalon), haptics, wondering if all the vents on the subway car are connected, writing choppy sentences in otherwise professional emails, gcals, a quote by Roland Barthes about pleasures never being replaced but always mutating (or something like that)
b.b.