Saturday, January 24, 2009

Task # 46: Buy a frivolous kitchen gadget

Frivolous: –adjective
1. characterized by lack of seriousness or sense.
2. self-indulgently carefree; unconcerned about or lacking any serious purpose.
3. (of a person) given to trifling or undue levity.
4. of little or no weight, worth, or importance; not worthy of serious notice

I defy this word, actively shaping my behavior throughout the day to avoid anything that may be possibly stamped with such embellishment. Give me black coffee. Shoes that I can slip on. One handbag for work, one for the weekend. Sure, I stray in some ways (aka: cereal addiction…I have 5 boxes right now) but for the most part, call me Practical. Functional. Even Frugal.
Simplicity appeals to me. Prone to imploding happiness via analytical discourse, paring things down into essential parts often prevents anxiety. Research has shown that the more choices we have, the more likely we are to worry, to feel unsure, and not to recognize our values when they are present.

Being single may foster easier access to simplicity. My routine syncopates around my self-designed routine. My goals and intentions are unencumbered by the immediate needs of others. Friends who are married and/or with children require more stuff, and definitely have intentions to do X or complete Y thwarted. With more bodies in the mix, one must acclimate to complication. So many of these friends then pontificate: “THIS IS THE TIME TO LIVE FRVIOUSLOUSY!” I respond by asking if being single means I should be doing things of little importance? Or that once you don on the responsibilities of family life simple pleasures evaporate?

Life, no matter what stage you are in, is too short to take too seriously, and too long not to live purposefully.
The 101 list engenders the extraordinary. For me, I need more trivialities. Bring on the trifles! Where’s the fribble around here?
I am even tempered in many of my passions. An avid cook and recipe sluether, I don’t own a blender. I have three cooking ware pans. So I bought a microplane a few weeks ago (okay, almost a month). I just brought it out a few nights ago, looking over my shoulder for a grandmother or something tsk tsking…this little product makes zesting (a lemon) grating (cheese) or pasting (ginger/garlic) a snap. With a little more work, I can do these tasks without such a device. But WOW! I am now in love! I am making fresh ginger/garlic paste with undue levity in a root vegetable roast, grating lemon in yogurt, slivering reggiano on my tofu soup. I swing the thing around like a scepter…queen of the facetious.
Isn’t it funny in a task about frivolity I tweaked out purpose? Ah…bad habits die hard

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PhD in clinical psychology. Single. Pushing 30. Suffering Whiplash from the Roaming 20s...Who am I? What do I want? Where do I belong? Welcome to my self-induced treatment, a testament that we can all be a little crazy in our search for significance.