Sugar for grown ups

I love little specialty shops. That's one thing I love about New York- you can crave something, pretty much ANYTHING, and be able to find it somewhere. I just went to a bakery in downtown Chapel Hill, because I left my travel mug (full of coffee) in my room this morning, and needed a caffeine fix. Why a bakery? They have coffee, I need to take the bus, and they're literally right next to the bus stop. It's pretty good java, but that's not the point. I love going into this bakery. From the chalkboards outside telling me the daily cupcake flavors to the adorable signs in the gelato case to the exquisite wedding cakes in the window, this place has character. In marketing terms, it fills a 'unique need'. It feels traditional and modern at the same time, family-owned and still fresh. I feel sophisticated and hip walking out of the bakery, coffee in tow, which surprises me. A cupcake and glorified-ice-cream-place isn't the first thing that comes to mind when you think 'hip'. Somehow, they managed it.

A reflection on where I stand

I've been in a slump lately. I've felt trapped, almost. Suffocated by my life and lost in the routine.

I got myself back. It took a lucky combination of circumstances: lunch with a friend I'll always love, a class project that excites and terrifies me, deliberate thought about what I want my life to look like, and a clean room. It's cathartic to organize. It's as though the books I stack and the clothes I hang are outlets of thought. When I organize, I understand better what I want, with whom I want to surround myself, and how to pursue what makes me truly happy while making smart choices. A messy room, to me, results in messy thoughts. A (relative) lack of clutter is a lack of confusion. The process of sorting through the clutter is more than metaphorical. Cleaning my room isn't an emotional panacea, but it definitely promotes constructive thought.

I've remembered things about myself that will allow me to shape my circumstances to maximize happiness. I remembered that I need my space. I need time purely to myself, with nobody around, nobody talking to me, nobody monopolizing my attention. I remembered what I really value in friendship, and the factors that'll make it last. I remembered that when I self-isolate, I'm not myself. Balance of social involvement and me-time is crucial.

This post, now that I read over it, is incredibly self-centered. I don't think that's always a bad thing- personal reflection has value. It just has to be done in unobtrusive venues.

Whatever else anything is, it ought to begin by being personal.

I've been thinking a lot today about my Haitian friends. I went to Haiti (Cape Haitian) in the summer of 2007. One of my friends there, Shirley, spends a month every year in Miami with family. My 17 year old self could not understand why she didn't just move to America, with air conditioning, and electricity, and a better education for her kids... She responded to my foolishness with a simple phrase- "people are lonely there".

Compared to Haiti, it's true. My life is disgustingly isolated compared to Shirley's. I live in my own little bubble, something that's not uncommon in America. Haitians don't. They congregate all the time, it seems as though the entire block was in our courtyard from sunrise to well after sunset. They talk. Discuss ideas. Laugh. They never complain. I was there in June- the temperature pushed 100 every day, with humidity that made the South East United States blush. Sweat constantly dripped from my face. I was always covered in dirt (but somehow the Haitians never were. I swear, Haitians repel dirt). The stench of rotting trash was unavoidable. And yet- my time in Haiti was full of joy. I'm not going to say I didn't miss the material things. Sleeping outside during voodoo month with mosquito netting over my face got old. But more memorable than a lack of electricity or potable water were the relationships I formed.

There were three young men (I would guess early 20's) that I met in Haiti whom I hope to always be friends with. Their names were Peterson, Mackenson, and Jean-Louis. I was able to connect with them a lot because I spoke French; I've never been more grateful for that. Jean-Louis was boisterous and a comedian. Peterson was unassuming and incredibly driven (particularly when it came to learning English). Mackenson didn't say much, but he loved to listen and observe. One evening, we got into a heated discussion about marriage and the differences in gender roles (Haiti vs. America). I remember passionately trying to explain to them that, in an American marriage, the man and the woman are equal. They didn't really know what to do with that. Jean-Louis fought me on it. Peterson considered it from a cultural lens. Mackenson just listened. I have no idea what he thought. It will probably offend a lot of people that women and men are far from equal in Haiti. But you know what, it works for them. Women aren't oppressed by their husbands. On the contrary- they're adored. More so than most American relationships, I'd guess. Haitians love so actively. They love each other, their country, their world, and anyone who visits it. They're such happy people, and incredibly sociable. No loneliness in Haiti. No petty drama. Everyone looks out for each other.

I wish my reality were more like that. Maybe it's because we're so tied to our possessions. Haitians don't have much, so they rely on each other. Is there a way to have both? Running water and gleefully saying 'Bonjou!' to everyone you see? Great education and stable incomes without elitism, just wanting to share your joy with the people near you? If I find that world, I'm staying there. I'll look until I do.

Bouquets of sharpened pencils

Hello world. I don't know if anyone will read this, or if I'm merely writing for myself. Either way, this seems like an interesting adventure. I hope to voice my thoughts on my surroundings, my experiences, and my dreams. I don't want this to be a diary. My love life (as far as specifics go) will remain my own.

First off, I should explain my display name. I neither own a shop nor do I particularly love shopping. Shopgirl was Kathleen Kelly's online name (played by Meg Ryan) in You've Got Mail (1998). Meg Ryan was my hero growing up. We owned You've Got Mail on VHS when I was a kid, and I was enchanted by her mannerisms. As my theater teacher from high school would say, I have an "artist's crush" on Meg Ryan.

Kathleen Kelly is the reason that daisies are my favorite flower. Her life turned me on to Upper West Side living, something that is still attractive. Her approach to the everyday continues to inspire. ("Don't you just love New York in the fall?") She deals with the hard stuff- faded love, a failed business- beautifully. She appreciates simple pleasures, friendship, and family. She's a driven woman with a pure heart. She's the kind of person I want to be.

So, who am I? I'm an advertising student. I like to cook. Satirical news makes me laugh. I don't like cats. I have a sweet tooth, and it's probably going to be an issue when my metabolism slows down. Those things are fun facts, but they don't talk about the real 'me'. Hopefully my thoughts over time will help paint that picture.

Until then. Which might be right now. I'm in a writing mood.