Primal cocoa.

I made cake tonight.
In a mug.

Four tablespoons each of flour and sugar, and two tablespoons of cocoa, stirred together. An egg, sloppily sloshed around the mug until the mix was wet. Three more tablespoons each of milk and canola oil, with a splash of vanilla extract. Pop it in the microwave for three minutes, and there you have it.
A hot ceramic cup brimming with a sickeningly dense, not-sweet-enough stack of empty calories, fit to satisfy only the basest of chocolate cravings.

This apartment, which seemed so sweet and bohemian — so liberating — when I moved in July is now little more than an airless, lightless, claustrophobic cave.
And tonight, I am a cave woman full of sushi takeout and hankering for chocolate, but lacking in my usual arsenal of Toll House semisweet morsels.

I am scattered.
And tired.
My body aches from sleeping in and working from a bad bed with a banging headboard (even when unprovoked) and rock-hard mattress.
I miss people. Some afternoons I go out and babble at shop clerks because they’re the first person I’ve spoken to in far too long.
I need more yoga pants. In different colors. This is what passes as a fashion statement for me.

I haven’t grocery shopped in what feels like months. There are clothes in piles all over my apartment; my sink is stacked with dirty dishes.

This lifestyle change has not been easy: Some days I feel like a rock star — what with the kicking of asses and the taking of names — and other days I feel like this.
One of my biggest motivators for quitting my job was being able to save my creative energy for writing. Writing for myself.
And now, it seems I have…so few words. Unless I’ve pissed someone off or something’s pissed me off, I just don’t find that there’s much to write about. Even the concept of NaNoWriMo makes those hunks of cake churn in my stomach.

A chill has settled over Chicago.
The holidays are coming.

I have no money, no energy, no motivation. Things never do work out exactly how we plan them, do they?

Something has to change.
I need to find my purpose.
Maybe it’s hiding under one of those piles of clothes. Be right back.


6 Responses to “Primal cocoa.”

  1. Tweets that mention Primal cocoa. | -- Says:

    […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Paige Worthy, Ruby Slater. Ruby Slater said: From @paigeworthy dot com: Primal cocoa. — […]

  2. Lisa Murtaugh Gangi Says:

    It IS a process, and a murky one at that. But hey, I’m a people — you can babble at me over lunch, say, week of the 15th? Pick a date; I’ll come down.

  3. Deanna Says:

    This isn’t so grim. I mean, it takes time to adjust to such enormous lifestyle changes. Give yourself a break. You’ll find your groove and kick ass.

    Sometimes cake in a mug is all you need, and there ain’t a damn thing wrong with that.

  4. Rachel H Says:

    Aww, it was cake in a mug that brought us together.

  5. J Webb Says:

    Hey lady. We are always on the search for something: I went and got a Master’s Degree in design, and even though a great experience with great people, did I really need to do that? Probably not, but I was searching for something more. What’s next, paging Dr. Design? I have also been navigating the waters of freelancing now. And it’s harder than people think to balance everything. Having three or four jobs during the week rather than the monotony of one is sometimes liberating and sometimes…just exhausting. I now have many bosses and deadlines to juggle. And that free time I got out of the deal? I should be making more work for myself, but instead, I just watch movies. There’s got to be a support group for following your dreams.

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