I'm always intrigued with the concept of identity, and sometimes I catch myself wondering how people would primarily define themselves: grandmother? optimist? high schooler? ballerina? democrat? dentist? female? atheist? How does that change over time, even in the course of a day? Is it possible that there is one thing about any person at any given time that completely defines them?
Sometimes the answer is easy: generally, people define themselves by their occupation, how they spend most of their time. So what about sleeping? We (should) sleep about 7-8 hours a night: that's almost third of our lives. Would anybody call themselves a "sleeper?"
Not really.
The answer, perhaps, is that how we define ourselves is the thing about which we think most often, or at least what's on our mind at a specific moment.
And most interesting of all:
Is there ever a moment that somebody would just call themselves "me," when what they are has absolutely nothing to do with anything else or any quality in the world? Or is "me" just a grouping of qualities?
I don't know, and, when I think about it, I'm not sure I can name a time like that. Maybe that's just when you're born... but even then you're most likely "unhappy" or "disoriented."
This is getting too out of hand. I'm not even sure if I make sense any more. I probably sound like that obnoxious kid in a group discussion, pretending to know a lot more than I do. Sorry!
On to the important stuff:
One of the ways I can describe myself right now:
Peanut butter fiend.
A couple weeks ago I was a silvery-blue fiend, and before that a Big Chill Soundtrack fiend.
I got the King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion out of the library (surprise, surprise!) and made this recipe, called Magic in the Middles. They looked difficult, but the cookie dough was incredibly easy to shape; not crumbly, not sticky, it was like shaping a cloud. I also used crunchy peanut butter for the middles (I needed a bit more, though, to make it stick together: maybe around a cup.)
The whole batch:
The recipe called to flatten them all out with a cup, but I left half of them as little bon-bons, and in my opinion they were even better (the softer and rounder the cookie, the better, in my mind).
Cross sections:
And for anybody who either has lived or lives now in northeastern Ohio, you equate the quintessential taste pairing not to a Reese's cup but:
Buckeyes! A flashback to elementary school for me.
They can all be good.