I’m a gelato fiend. Gelato – it’s sexy and comforting at the same time. It’s exotic. It’s decadent. Yet it’s also accessible. I’ve always loved gelato, but what got me thinking about getting serious about my passion for the dessert was this drool-inducing image on the Capogiro website. They’ve got the most inspired flavors – pear with bourbon, tahini, single malt scotch, hot pepper, honey truffled caramel! Augh! I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I lived in Philly, if only to try the daily flavors (they have 319 flavors to date!). I’m saving up to mail order a set of six pints. My list (so hard!):

1. Lancaster Mint Stracciatella
2. Nocciola Piedmontese
3. Cioccolato con Malt
4. Zenzero con Sesamo
5. Rosemary Honey Goat’s Milk
6. Meyer Lemon with Vodka

I go wild for ‘em weird flavors!

I gotta admit, most days I don’t really know what I want to do with my life. Everyone says it’s “normal” for people my age to feel that way. “Take your time,” some might even add. But considering the opportunities I’ve add, do I really have that luxury? Do any of us?

I feel that there’s this unspoken pressure for my generation to do something great in our 20′s. After all, we had a wealth of resources available to us – a good education (plus top-notch grad studies for some), financial stability, a solid network of influential families and friends, successful and supportive mentors, and finally, that Chinese business sense that supposedly runs in our blood.

I feel that I’ve been given so much, and have nothing spectacular to show for it. Not because I don’t have the abilities or the resources, but because I just don’t know where I’m going. Baggage, is what I’ve got.

I came upon this blog post by Ian Yabarra that asks some soul-searching questions on what your life would look like without baggage, repeated here:

What would you do…
1. if you had a billion dollars? (Now money is no object.)
2. if your parents were completely supportive of any path you chose? (Now your parents can’t make you do something.)
3. if your older sibling(s) weren’t so successful? (Now you’re not trying to live up to something you’re not.)
4. if your friends weren’t all going to work in finance (or another industry)? (Now you’re not letting peer pressure pistol whip you.)
5. if we could all travel at the speed of thought? (Now you can live where you want and work where you want, no problem.)
6. if you had graduated from the best college in the world? (Now you’re not paralyzed by a lack of the “perfect” brand–whatever that is.)
7. if you had gotten perfect grades in school? (Now you’re not hung up on GPA.)
8. if you could start doing it tomorrow? (Now you’re not worried about stress on your family or paying your bills during a transition period.)
9. if you had started doing it back when you wish you had? (Now you’re not thinking it’s too late start now.)
10. What would you do if you could do anything you wanted? (Because you can.)

Something to think about…

I didn’t think I’d be writing one more of these for a while, but this one really knocked the wind out of me.

This morning I left my apartment to get some lunch. I walked out the front porch when – swoosh! Thump!…. Thump! Thump! Thump! I had slipped and fallen on my butt on a step, then another, then another until I hit the ground. I got to my feet slowly, wincing at the sharp ache on my rear. The steps were covered with a sheen of ice.
I spent the entire day, sitting and standing, in a persistent state of humiliation and pain. Curse you landlord!

At 8:55 am this morning, I found that I had locked myself in my apartment. Yes, locked in.

My front door has a chain lock which I secure every night before I go to bed. Last night I must not have been paying attention because the part that slides into the plate was half in half out. The diameter of the chain end fits within a few millimeters of the opening, but the angle of how it was stuck in the night before prevented it from aligning correctly. I struggled with the darn thing for ten minutes, all the while imagining the sheer ridiculousness of having to call someone to rescue me. Finally, already late for work, I liberated myself with a cry of exasperation. Nuts, it was just nuts.

*Reasons I Hate My Apartment
(Reasons #1 and 2 disappeared when my previous web host screwed me over with their ineptitude.)

29 degrees out and my fingers are numb and swollen again! As if I needed one more reason to be avoid the cold.

Attacks of Raynaud’s phenomenon are caused by an intensification of the body’s natural response to cold… [T]he thermoregulatory vessels overreact to cold exposure with sudden and intense spasmodic contractions of these small blood vessels that supply blood to the skin of the fingers, toes, ears, face, and other body areas.

Wholly incompatible with winter or just hypochondriac?