Daily Fika: A time for peace but a time to bite back


Co-currently I've been analyzing everything from the things that pull me in to the things that don't settle well with the current stance of myself. Events that are leading up to my graduation have truly showed me that people are beautiful but they can be extremely hurtful. There's a entitlement that comes along with a specific personality that I've noticed and have no idea where it comes from. As I sit at Ferris Coffee, I write this blog post to you in wonderment in how someone (including myself) can survive with so much existential trauma and a continuation of trivial amalgamation of like minded people. With being a man who loves to be out with people and away from the homestead that I currently reside, I find it interesting how I've had to pull away from specific people. In a way it's self protection, but in other ways, it's me biting back. When Grandma Boyd was alive, she always had her opinion and she made vocal and well known. She didn't care what people thought but she was still and introspective peace keeper. With reading the journal entries that I wrote after her passing, I've began to notice how I'm starting to take on her nuances. She never let anyone stand in her way, not even her husband. She fought as hard as she could, even with losing two daughters and her dad and brother at the same time. I'm seeing the correlation between each of us in how we have been through world altering trauma but we both fight or fought until our lungs gave out. And when our lungs gave out we kept fighting. Counting down to my graduation date, I started pulling myself towards the Tyler that styled food and cooked everyday. Yesterday, I was paroling my local barnes and noble and I found a cookbook that instantly pulled me in. It was "A Seat at The Table" by Brent Ridge and Josh Kilmer-Purcell. I started thumbing through it and every memory of dinner, lunch, and breakfast was simply snatched back to me and I was almost taken over by nostalgia. The smells, the colors, the food, it all seemed to revitalize this part of me that had disappeared when Gram passed away. As I sip on my coffee, I recollect this beauty of food and telling a story. Just like Grandma did.