Memos to Myself

Hey You.

Yes, You.  Stop being unhappy with yourself.  

You are perfect.  Stop wishing you looked like someone 

else or wishing people like you as much as they like 

someone else.  Stop trying to get attention from those 

who hurt you.  Stop hating your body, your face, 

your personality, your quirks:  love them.  Without 

those things, you wouldn't be you.  And why would you 

want to be anyone else?  Be confident with who you are.  

Smile: it will draw people in.  If anyone hates on you 

because of who you are, than stick your middle finger 

in the air and say "Screw it, my happiness will not depend 

on others anymore."  

I am happy because I love who I am.  

I love my flaws.  I love my imperfections.  They 

make me me.  And "me" is pretty amazing.

Copper Cupcakes

Whenever I'm upset, my favorite thing to do is bake.  Something about making cute cupcakes or that perfect pan of cornbread is somehow just so therapeutic for me.  I don't like being home alone at night, so whenever my mother would travel for meetings, I would stay up the entire night raiding the cabinets for ingredients, scouring the internet for recipes, and baking.  I'm not sure what it is about cooking that de-stresses me.  I think it's the concept of working with my hands, taking raw materials and combining them in ways that make something amazing in the end.


This is probably why I also love working at the anvil.  Making jewelry is actually my preferred outlet for stress.  The repetitive clang of metal clashing, the energy flowing through my body as I bring the hammer down in quick succession.  It is mindless work, a mechanical movement of my arms, yet at the same time I am sharply focused, molding the metal to my will to create a work of art.  The mindlessness of it helps me empty my mind of what is upsetting me, and being focused makes me hone in on something else, leaving no room to think about anything else but the weight of the hammer and the feel of hot copper against my hands.  Even though mindlessness and focus are contradictory, they seem to twine together into a moment of serenity when I'm working.


Unfortunately, though my thoughts keep me awake in the middle of the night, the neighbors definitely wouldn't appreciate the sound of my hammer awakening them from their rest at two in the morning.  So it's at these times that I turn to the kitchen.  I tend to feel at home in the kitchen (cue the age old joke about girls belonging in the kitchen).  It's true though.  I feel a sense of peace baking or cooking.  Maybe it's because cooking is something I taught myself.  I didn't grow up helping my mom cook or bake cookies like most girls did.  My family was pretty much "fend for yourself" when it came to food.  I had never even baked a batch of cookies from scratch until I was in high school.  Before that I had always scorned cooking.  I viewed it as "girly", and I wanted to stay as far from that adjective and the things I associated with it as I could.  When I finally realized how silly I was and gave baking a try, I found that I enjoyed it.  It was soothing.  I didn't really want to let people know I liked it though.  I wasn't good at it at first, and I used to get really discouraged because a lot of my friends were really good at baking, and I felt inferior because I wasn't.  I still get discouraged sometimes.


But as I continued to try and experiment, I learned and improved.  And as I improved, my self esteem improved too.  As a girl who, unfortunately, thrives on being told she did well, I am ecstatic every time someone tells me that they like what I make.  It makes me glow to know that I made something, and someone else enjoyed it.  Whether it's muffins I baked or a figure I made with clay, when I make something, and that something I made makes someone else happy, I am happy.