once you’ve been to europe, you’re pretty much spoiled as far as good bread and good cheese go, methinks. after you’ve had fresh broetchen for breakfast every morning in germany, the limp, crumbly double-fiber bread your parents like to eat here doesn’t quite cut the mustard.
seriously, have you ever tried that bread? you’d think that double-fiber bread would be incredibly dense, and it is, in a way, once you get to chewing it, but it’s very fragile as far as toppings are concerned. i made a provolone and orange marmalade melt this afternoon, and mr. double-fiber was about as sturdy as wonderbread.
lately i’ve felt a strong desire to go visit exotic, colourful, strange and foreign places. morocco. turkey. egypt, greece, india, china, spain, italy, france — i’ve been writing a story in which one of the main characters is a gypsy, and the wandering spirit seems to have entered my soul. i really do love kansas and my life here, but everything is so similar day in and day out.
there is something almost frighteningly constricting about the business world. you wear suits — black suits — to your interviews if you want to impress your potential employers as someone who is serious and professional. sobriety and professionalism, i agree, are important, but there also should be passion for what you’re doing. how is your employer going to know who you are if everyone comes in looking the same, with the same pat answers to questions and the same sycophantic smile?
don’t get me wrong here. i’m not saying that all businesses should let their employees dress however they want to, whether that be dressy, bohemian or comfortable. but i’m just tired of this black, black, all black-and-high-heels world. the world of elevator music, platinum blondes with $50 manicures and metros in three piece suits. i’m not even actually in it, yet, but my recent tastes of it leave me thinking that there has to be something more to life.
maybe this is a lesson in submission.