1.22, 3.17

i feel a loss. somehow, with each week, i feel that more and more of me is being chipped off, exchanged for something cheaper and lower-grade. yes, things are killing me bit by bit and i just want to retain everything that is me.

amidst the hubbub of 'platoon bonding', i'm still waiting for a thousand confirmations on my scholarship and UK university applications. but a jennifer martin has been ever so prompt and helpful; honestly, she is alleviating my stress better than nigella's totally chocolate chocolate cookies do. those cocoa blocks have, in fact, been quite heaty.

still, i bake, and make things for the people who matter; probably because i need to make myself feel more worthy.
next week we are going outfield, so i'm just doing a few different cookies from tonight onwards and storing them in ziplocs. this is the beautiful cookie dough for jeffrey cookies, but with cake flour instead of plain flour; it was quite a successful experiment.

even though i had some cutesy hexagonal cookies on my final batch (these babies spread quite a lot in the oven), i shan't post any cookie photos yet. i'll wait until all the different cookies are done, and then take a photo of them gloriously piled together on a plate to serve (or not).

there are so many things i wish i could shout to the world in general. just make them see some truths that are staring them in their faces. like how it's been getting too hot. like why the cookies are called jeffrey cookies.

at this point in time, i feel a need to quote desperate housewives again: when the truth is ugly, people try to keep it hidden, because they know, if revealed, the damage it would do. so they conceal it within sturdy walls, or they place it behind closed doors, or they obscure it with clever disguises. but truth, no matter how ugly, always emerges. and someone we care about always ends up getting hurt. and someone else will revel in their pain, and that's the ugliest truth of all.

letting people into your house means letting them into your life.