The Experience

I read somewhere recently that you should spend money on experiences, not material goods. Well, today I tried.

See, a while back, I did what every poor college kid does, and bought the cheapest stuff I could find at the grocery store. I bought corn tortillas, which ended up being a baaad decision really. What can you do with corn tortillas? They're dry, flaky, and mostly flavorless. Anyways, after a few failed food attempts, I decided I would worry about them later and just focus on my crazy week. So the weekend rolls around, and my mind drifts back to those tortillas...

I started researching recipes, finally landing on taquitos. It felt like a perfect opportunity to cook for the house--and an opportunity to try out a new recipe after my brilliant success with Thai peanut sauce the other day. Because I'm cheap, I decided to go with the corn and black bean recipe and forego the chicken. I already had black beans, so voila! I was in business.

Well, I had to go grocery shopping to pick up some extra stuff: corn, cilantro, garlic, onion, cheese, and guacamole. I also bought a dessert because why not? Family dinner deserves a dessert. I splurged a bit. Anyways, my roommate Alicia and I started our marathon in the kitchen, chopping the onion, garlic, and cilantro. prepping the corn and beans, sweating the garlic and onion, etc. Well, we get to the step in which we had to roll the taquitos and my tortillas just are not cooperating. No matter how hard we tried, they wouldn't hydrate or would just pathetically split. I googled technique after technique and didn't have any luck. Laid out in the pan, they were kinda hideous. Here I had spent all this time and money to try to make a nice dinner and I thought it would be ruined by a bunch of stupid tortillas.

During the prep, I kind of taught Alicia how to dice onions and prep garlic for the first time. We had a lot of good laughs at being domestic. And when I started freaking out, Alicia simply told me that we still had dessert and that McDonald's was just down the street. She even insisted on setting the table, lighting a candle, and putting up the flowers that Katelyn brought home from work. It was a full blown family dinner.

So the taquitos come out of the oven, and while some of them looked a bit rough, they tasted pretty dang good. We also had salsa, sour cream, and guac which helped. After serving after serving of taquitos and a strawberry cheese danish, we agreed that it had all worked out. Not to mention the sheer hilarity of the things that are said when you sit us all down together at one table. Afterwards, Alicia and I cleaned up and did all the dishes, all while joking that perhaps we would not completely fail in being able to complete domestic tasks in our future.

Hell yeah I splurged. Hell yeah it was nerve wracking to think that dinner would fail. And hell yeah it was an awesome experience. To be entirely honest, tonight was one of the best days of my summer so far. Forget my frustrating morning at work, the exhaustion, the tough week ahead. Today I watched a lot of soccer, drank a lot of tea, and spent a lot of time over onions, a hot stove, and a hotter oven.

The experiences are what we want. It's not necessarily the food, but the people you share it with that make a perfect meal. It's not the movie, but the people you get to lean into during the scary parts. It's not the financial cost of taking a trip to Scotland, or moving to Seattle, it's the thrill, the sights, the sounds, the adrenaline, the feeling you get when you hold up that pair of hiking boots that took you 98 miles across the West Highland Way along Loch Lomond.

Spend money on the experiences? don't mind if I do.

Be well. Share your happiness. Live the epic life.

-Megan

A Curious Absence of Fear

There's a poem by Robert Burns titled "To a Mouse", which contains a famous line that in simple English translates to:

"But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,"

Fun fact: This poem is the inspiration for the John Steinbeck novel. Another fun fact: Robert Burns wrote the poem, "Auld Lang Syne" which is the basis for the sad song everyone sings on New Years'.

Now, I talk about this because I have a heck of a lot of events coming up. I'm starting senior year, prepping for that (hopefully!) hiking trip to Scotland, prepping for my Grad school applications and grad school itself, which would involve a massive uprooting of my life and moving somewhere out west... I'm on the brink of a massive life transition. Moving to Undergrad felt risky and unsafe and new... and now it feels like childs' play compared to what I need to do.

But here's the thing... if you know me, you know how much of a planner I am. I always play it safe, never take risks, according to my friend, I never jump without knowing I have a safe place to land. But with all of this? I'm not afraid. I'm not worried. It worries me how NOT worried I am. I just want to go out and do it!

I was talking to my friend, Nick, about this Scotland trip. He went when he was a freshman. After learning it's a 98 mile trek, I remember drowning in my own excitement, eagerness, or restlessness. I started looking up incredible hiking boots. :P I know 98 miles may be torture at times, but I WANT it. I CRAVE it. Years, maybe even as little as months ago, I would be worried and scared and timid... My anxiety would twist and turn all the cons into massive, insurmountable obstacles. Not this time.

See, I'm the equivalent of the mouse Robert Burns was referring to. I planned out my life to the point where everything was safe and accounted for. The plan was there, I just had to live it out. Well... they went askew. I did everything I possibly could, with as much diligence as I could, and I still watched part of my life fall apart in front of me.

A wise professor once told me (while I was crying in her office) that there is a certain freedom and relief in realizing that every life situation, even those that we take to be stable, has the chance of ending or suddenly falling apart. As someone who craves stability and plans everything, I hated it when she said that. But as I'm preparing for my future, and just trying to live it without knowing what the final product is going to look like, I can finally appreciate all the merit and truth in her words.

I don't have everything planned out. I have a strategy, but very few expectations of what it will look like, or sound like, or smell like, or taste like, when I'm in Scotland or Seattle. I'm just taking every day as it comes.

The last line of the poem? "And forward, though I cannot see. I guess and fear!" That's where I differ from Burn's narrator. I guess and hope and look forward to it all. Come what may.

Be well,

Megan