Pas Si Chic

I’m writing this as an escape.

There’s so much performative shenanigans littering the world that I have to do something that makes me feel sane.

Side note: I never imagined that at the ripe age of 24 writing into an algorithmic abyss would be the thing keeping me sane but, here we are. I mean, have you ever voluntarily taken up a hobby that requires you to eat your ego before throwing it up everywhere? Or, are you normal?

Like I said, I need an escape; if you know where we can find some frivolity for this pandemic please let me know. The speed at which white silence did a 180°, then evolved into the optical cacophony that was several white Senators kneeling in Kente cloth, is truly neck-breaking. And, during a pandemic.

We are still. living through. our first global pandemic.

Does anyone else’s brain zone out and totally forget about that, only to come to in a wave of anxiety? I have to laugh …or bake…every weekend, to get through this. Mind you, before my instant active dry yeast arrived almost three weeks ago, I had already analyzed all hundred of the existential crises I had had; if anything, now I’m just getting more creative with my coping mechanisms. I’m quite literally doing what floats my boat. I mean, yeast goes to your ass…right?

And every good bake or dinner requires a worthy dinner outfit. Yeah, I said it: dressing up to eat my dinner, or the things I bake myself, all alone, is the only thing keeping me sane right now. This girl loves her downtime, but I never intended to swap out glitzy dinner outfits for pseudo-groutfits (though, we never go full on grout over here) for this long. So, as a pick-me-up to the realization that I’ve been coordinating pseudo-groutfits with non-medical face masks for the past 4 months, I’ve been dressing up in for dinner.

Scoff if you’re boring, I’m gonna find a way to have fun.