an announcement of sorts*

So, uh, I am going back to school. About nine months or so ago, thanks to either my therapist or my chemically stabilized moods or my waning ability to sell cheese with a smile 40 hours a week or my weariness of the ill effects of an irresponsible hedonistic lifestyle or probably some combination thereof, I got to thinking that maybe it was time that I get, like, a career, or something. Actually, the word "career" used to make me super squeamish and still does (I think it's the nerdy nasally sound of the "eer" part), so I'll just be calling it a profession. So long story short: I am applying to nursing school.

I've talked about it with my friends quite a bit, but it still feels weird for me to say out loud (or on the internet). Almost every major life decision I've ever made has been based on impulse and often irrational** gut feelings (see: Going to Columbia, My Five Apartments Since 2003, My First Tattoo). Except for the tramp stamp and the two times I attempted to save money by living with roommates, these have all been good decisions. But for me to be choosing a path that will affect the rest of my life based on practicality and lots of forethought and planning just doesn't feel like the me that I've been growing accustomed to for the last 28 years. And then there's the fact that I've been wavering on "what I want to be when I grow up" for, like, ever, and at times I've been so paralyzed by indecision that I've gotten overly excited about plans that never ended up getting realized. I'm afraid of crying wolf again.

But I've officially begun the application process with a pre-requisite college course I cannot afford, a volunteer gig at a hospital, and a GRE book (I recommend the SparkNotes version!), so I think I'm probably actually doing this. Change is hard, but I think I can do it. Case in point: I just made a week's worth of lunches for myself and no peanut butter or jelly was involved.

*The first time I typed this it came out "aorta," and I just registered for an Anatomy and Physiology class, so this MUST be the right decision, right?
**See above.

a 28 year old's first omelet

No, not the first omelet I have ever eaten (ooooh, brunch...), but the first I have ever made. I vaguely recall attempting an omelet back in the summer of 2003, but since I only recently learned that eggs should not be cooked on full blast but rather a medium-low heat setting, every time I've tried to make an egg dish I get frustrated and end up scrambling it and dousing it in salt and pepper to make up for the rubbery blandness. But no more!

I almost never cook for myself, so what prompted this extreme culinary adventure? Aside from financial woes due to a summer of living like a person who makes twice as much money as I do (woops), I have been selling cheese at the NYC Greenmarkets. Perks include outSTANDING people/dog watching (I've got an essay floating around in my head somewhere about market demographics, but until I regain comfort writing anything longer than a Facebook status update, I recommend this video from the amazingly insane Bill Cunningham), meeting character-filled country-mouse vendors, and, of course, free food.

Last week I snuck away from the cheese and paid a visit to the farm stand a few stalls down where one particularly attractive country mouse sells his produce. After a few minutes of swooning and pretending to inspect his organic pea shoots, I had to make a selection and grabbed the nearest item--a carton of eggs. (From his own chickens! He put them in that carton himself!) Anyway, so I got some eggs. And thanks to this fine lady, I made an omelet! Certainly not the "perfect" omelet, and not as pretty as hers, but it only stuck to the pan in a couple places and when you stuff something full of fresh goat cheese, well, you're doing pretty alright for yourself. I have also had recent success with egg salad, thanks to a website on how to hard boil an egg called How To Hard Boil an Egg.

I'm turning over a new leaf here, my friends.