Divine Decadence

I'd like you to take a moment to imagine a blondie. 
Not just any old blondie, but a luxurious, homemade, dessert. 

Picture your kitchen. 
Your oven is heated, the glow of its light illuminating a pan of golden goodness within. 
Breathe in the scents of vanilla and butterscotch, allowing them to flow through your nose, and past your salivary glands, teasing your tongue. You softly lick the corners of your mouth in search of the nectarious flavour, but there is nothing that can satisfy the desire welling up within you.

You wait patiently...enduringly, for the oven timer to sound like church bells sending off newlyweds, but the minutes drag. Until the melodic echoes of the timer ring, you are forced to stand close by, anticipating the warm, ooey, gooey, blondies.
You fantasize the taste, a graceful sweetness, gently offset by swirls of melted, dark chocolate. 
If only the time would fly. 

Stomach grumbles and drool puddles cast aside, you know that the wait will be worth the divine decadence that lies within your oven. 


If you could not tell, for months, I have a had devilish desire for blondies. 
Tonight, I finally caved.
After one hour of measuring and mixing, I now sit with my laptop, indulging in a beautiful treat, and sipping on a coffee to balance the sweet notes. 

I found a basic, toffee blondie recipe on Pinterest a couple of days ago and since then, my craving has exponentially increased. I am very pleased to say that the recipe was successful. I made some modifications because I didn't want my blondies to be defiled by copious amounts of sugar, and instead of adding Skor bits for toffee, I topped them with chocolate chips to create another flavour dimension. 
These decisions were worth it, although I think next time I will add even less sugar. 
Nevertheless, these blondies are still beautiful. 

Just in case this post has caused you to develop a desire that has left you lusting...and drooling, here is the modified recipe I used. 


Ingredients: 
2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
2 eggs
2 tablespoons vanilla
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
2 cups flour

The dough will be sticky, (which scared me a little, because I was unexpecting) and you will have to wet your fingers with cold water before you press it into a greased, 9x13 pan. 
Bake at 350 for 25 minutes, or until you can smell the deliciousness and the top is firm. 
The centre will still be a little jiggly, but it will cool and become amazing. 
Grab a fork and indulge.  

Devoured, Digested, Defecated...

 School has consumed me. My life, which was once full of joy and adventure, has been devoured and digested by the education system.

It's my final year of high school. Going into it I told myself I wouldn't stress. I laughed in my friends' faces when they questioned me.

"Get stressed out, are you kidding?" 

No. Not me. Not this year. 

I swore I would change my attitude this time around. I wouldn't let anything shake me up. I wouldn't freak myself out over life's insignificancies... 

Apparently when I made this decision, I had forgotten what it meant to be Laurel Farrell, the dedicated perfectionist and over-achieving enthusiast of everything.  

It is only the first week of November and I am officially done. 

The truth is that my courses are great and my workload is balanced. What is tiring me out is my never ending attempt to be the all-doing, ever-involved, amazing...and attractive high school senior. Like a hamster that doesn't know when to stop eating, I am unaware of my own saturation point. I continue to take on challenges and opportunities to help out others even when my stomach is so full that food begins to escape from my cardiac sphincter. As can be expected, this results in heart burn. 

For example, I have taken on so many opportunities to be involved this week that between classes, charity collections, student council meetings, music lessons, university presentations, scholarship applications and semi formals, there is no time left for myself. 

Do not misunderstand. I am not complaining. And yes, I do know how to tell people no. 

The truth is that I absolutely love being busy...it just tires you out after a while. 

This is why I have decided to make time right now, to blog for the first time in over a year. 

I haven't written in a very long time and the past few weeks I have felt as though I was missing something in my life. This is it. 

I believe that by making time for myself through blogging, I am avoiding complete digestion. I am back peddling through the duodenum and knocking on the pyloric sphincter, with the hopes that I can get back into the stomach. 

If I slow myself down, perhaps I can avoid the large intestine for a little while longer. Perhaps I can prevent myself from total defecation. 

And yes...this is the weirdest blog post I have ever written. 

A Letter of Emotion...I Have not Forsaken You!

Dear Readers, 

Have you ever been so full of emotion that you don't know what to do with yourself? 
Have you felt excitement, and fear, and love for those around you all at once?
And have these emotions been so strong that you simply have to accept the strange but beautiful combination of feelings?
This is what I have been going through for the past few months, and despite my efforts, I haven't been able to sit down and pin point my feelings about anything. Recently, I'm easily swayed and stirred, and in a matter of seconds, I often go from being absolutely furious, to so in love and so happy that I find myself laughing...and then later, I laugh at my own stupidity.
Am I bipolar? Honestly, it feels like it sometimes. 

I don't know how to explain what I've been going through other than saying that I've been stuffed and unable to vent. I'm filled to the brim with feelings that are so deep and so real, that no amount of poetry, or song writing, singing, dancing, or long conversations at Starbucks can do them justice. 
So I've kept them to myself. 
The truth be told, these feelings are mostly wonderful and most nights I fall asleep in awe of how blessed I am. Even still, there's a part of me that is full, and wants these feelings expressed. 
I've been trying to do so. 
I've stared at blank documents and notebooks for weeks trying to empty my mind, but nothing ever resulted. I have realized that this is because I'm always striving for perfection; the perfect post. The perfect poem. 
The reality is, I'll never find that perfect piece because I'm not perfect, and neither are my feelings. Trying to force my heart into an alliteration or a limerick won't work because emotions were never meant to be structured. I guess freedom is one of the beauties of the heart. 

So here it is, my first blog post since the spring. Flawed, full of errors, and barely edited at all, but I could care less because even though it might be sloppy, it's a chip off of my heart. 
I guess the point I'm trying to prove to myself in all of this is that it doesn't matter how flawed something is-whether it's an assignment, or a performance, character traits or a shitty blog post that you wish was something amazing-what matters in the end is that you got your message across. 
I'm hoping that I did, and if not, here it is: perfection is an illusion.

For now, I'll sit at my kitchen table, looking out the patio door at the fall colours, sipping my Red Rose, and feeling a little bit lighter because I've "vented"...and also because I have finally published something on this nearly forsaken blog. 
Knowing myself, in about three hours or so, I'll reread over this post-which is the fastest piece I have ever written and published-laughing at myself because I really need to pull it together. 

Thank you for reading my ten minutes of "blah,"

-Laurel Farrell

Roadblock

You drive along the road,
To your destination.
You expect speed and ease,
Without complication.
Roadblock.

Suddenly your plans fade,
Like pictures in sunlight.
It's no use to organize,
When you don't use insight.
Roadblock.

If you had read the signs,
Maybe you would have known,
That there's construction here.
You don't know where to go.
Roadblock.

The panic settles in,
You thought that you knew best.
Intellectual fool,
No smarter than the rest.
Roadblock.

Now the stress of rush hour,
Yanks on your sanity.
You should've paid attention,
To signs, not vanity.
Roadblock.

You have what you wanted,
A clean face and crisp clothes,
But now you will be late.
The stupid things you chose.
Roadblock.

Stop.

Take an even breath in.
Realize there's a detour,
That's organized so you,
Won't worry anymore.
Roadblock?

This path will take more time,
Your choices injured you.
But you're not stuck forever,
Wondering what to do.
Detour.

Your struggles were foreseen,
By the foreman in charge.
Understand your problem,
Really isn't that large. 
Detour. 

A solution put in place, 
So that you wouldn't miss, 
All that you're meant to do, 
You can get around this...
Road Block.