The one where I try to learn how to cook...almost.

"Tomorrow is the day I learn how to cook."

These were the words I spoke to my roommate last night as I watched him make pasta and vegetables on the stove. It didn't look too hard - all he did was put some beef in a pan that turned brown all on it's own. Boiled some water and put the pasta in. Warmed up the pre-made sauce. Put some oil in the pan before he put the vegetables in, then pushed them around a little bit. I can do that!

I have a tendency to waste my food. I'll buy tons of microwave dinners, then decide I don't want to make them because I want to try something original. I've talked to friends, asking for easy recipes, which they all willingly give. I'll buy the supplies to make some sort of easy dish, but by the time I get around to cooking whatever it is, I've lost all motivation to actually make something from pseudo-scratch.

It isn't that I can't cook anything, because I've made food before. I make great mashed potatoes and chicken parmesan. I've even attempted eggplant parmesan, which I was told was good. (By my boyfriend, but that counts too, right? Plus, he's still alive and that was months ago, so it totally counts.)

I don't really know what it is about cooking that scares me so much. Maybe it's that I think I won't be able to cut things right? Or that the oven will burn me. The oven thing is a big one - I used to have to have my roommates take brownies out after I made them because of how scared I was of it. I think I've gotten a bit better about the oven thing though, but I'm not entirely certain, since...well, it's been awhile.

Anyway. I fully intended to start cooking stuff tonight. I was going to make something easy even - ravioli from costco that all you needed to do was boil some water, pour in some oil, and stir a little bit. But, that didn't happen. I had a meeting at 5 where they offered free food. Tomorrow night I'm going to a show, and I don't want to attempt to make food before that just in case something goes horribly wrong and I set my apartment on fire. (Which reminds me - I should probably get my roommate to plug the smoke detector back in...) Friday night I have an event, so I guess the next possible time for me to cook dinner would be Saturday. So, Saturday it is. I'll make the ravioli that I was planning to make tonight, and hope it turns out ok. And if you don't hear from me in awhile because I've burned down my apartment...it was nice knowing you.

What's the worst that could happen?

Today was Pat's memorial service. It was really nice to hear about his life, his philosophies, his ideas, etc. Mike seems to be handling everything pretty well. He is under the impression that Pat passed to bring everyone together, which is really sweet. For example, Mike had Kelsey introduce me to this guy named Adam who lives in New York because he's Jewish. Mike is hilarious in that way.

In Kelsey's eulogy (is it still a eulogy if it isn't at a funeral?) she talked about how she ended up moving to Chico. Well, Mike talked about it first, but it was more about how he and Pat moved here. Mike had the interview at the school, got the job, and Pat just said "let's go." Even though he had never seen Chico. Then Mike and Pat would call Kelsey and tell her how beautiful Chico was and how vegan friendly and whatnot. Finally, during one of her conversations with Pat, he said something along the lines of "what's the worst that can happen? You fail and you end up moving home. It's not the end of the world."

Recently, Kelsey and I had a conversation that went similarly about me moving to New York. As much as I love living here, I think I'm ready to get out. The only thing that has really been holding me back is money and fear. But like Pat says, what's the worst that can happen? I run out of money and end up moving back to California and in with my parents. But even that isn't the end of the world (regardless of how much I hate the valley). I don't know, living there the summer of 2008 just wasn't enough for me. I was there for three months, and I didn't even get close to seeing or doing everything. I didn't even make a dent!

So that's it. It's decided. I'm moving back to New York. And if I fail, it'll be ok. At least I'll have tried. And it's the right decision for now.