The Year I Finalize My 'Favorites'

Picture this:

Me, propped up on my bed—black and white polka dot comforter, surrounded by a mess of pink and leopard print throw pillows, and my teddy bear Badger (named after the character in Breaking Bad, not the animal) cradling the most delicious bowl of vegetable glass noodle soup I’ve ever had.

It might have been the fact that I just got back from a week-long trip (marking my return to flying after five years), that I'd smoked a joint ten minutes prior, or that I was very, very sick — but everything about that soup was perfect. I sat there enjoying the broth-soaked cabbage clumps, giant carrots, dense broccoli, and thick, delicious onions, all paired with the most generous amount of glass noodles I'd ever seen. As the steam rose and I stared into the broth-y abyss, I thought to myself: I fucking love Thai food.

The experience was was nothing less than heavenly.

After finishing the latest episode of Big Brother and preparing to dive into Drag Race, I found myself opening my (personally) notorious 'Favorites' list on my notes app— ready to confidently lock in 'Thai Food' as my latest favorite.

Here’s where this story takes a turn inward.

You see, I have this larger issue of self. I have this deep-seated fear that I've never had any true sense of who I am (got deep quickly now, didn't we?). Maybe it’s because I have virtually zero earth placements in my astrological chart, (all fire and water, in case you're curious) but 'grounded' is not a word that I feel often applies to me. I’m extremely open-minded, always eager and excited to hear others’ viewpoints, creative processes, and opinions. I thrive on learning and experiencing more, constantly absorbing new perspectives. My style changes often, as does my taste in music, my hobbies, and general likes.

In that moment, pondering over my list, I wondered if cementing my favorites might somehow anchor my sense of self. Could narrowing down these preferences and loves offer me a glimpse of identity and individualism? Would coming to a stand-still with this damned note give me any semblance of much-needed completeness?

Was I, all of a sudden, any more of a real, whole person than I was 30 minutes prior to this glass noodle-induced epiphany?

Crisis of self aside, there’s a certain comfort in the process of at least trying to pin down my 'favorites.' Perhaps it's a sign of growth I thought, a step closer to understanding myself and the enigma I am more completely.

So thank you, glass noodle soup, for your life-changing, and delicious, delicious healing properties.

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Well if Thai food is now lightly etched into my imaginary 'stone of self,' tulips are deeply carved into my side.

Tulips offer me a different kind of comfort. I have loved them for as long as I can remember being asked my favorite flower (a likely question for a growing little girl). For me, they represent proof that I'm capable of a steadfast love, they are a favorite that has remained constant in my life, acting as a personal beacon of hope that some loves can be long-standing and become a part of who I am with time, as if their roots and stems had grown into me indefinitely.

With not much more than tulips to ground me, I’ve always wondered (more like feared) that I am nothing more than a shifting bundle of passing interests. It's like I've stolen pieces of others identities and created a patchwork sense of self that could rip at the seams at any moment. Is there anything more permanent buried underneath all my constant shifting?

I brought up this idea of my lack of self to both my partner and close friend while we all sat down for dinner a few weeks ago. Both of them very quickly reassured me that, to them, I've always had a quite strong sense of individualism, and that my ever-changing openness is actually one of my defining qualities.

Huh—I thought.

Both of them seemed to understand, innately, that knowing yourself does not mean to be unchanging.

How had I missed this?

I've always had a certain self-assuredness, one that has only grown in the last year — but for whatever reason I felt I needed to be grounded in something in order to keep it. But maybe that was the answer: the only constant in me is this endless curiosity, this always-evolving sense of self.

Maybe being 'a real live person' had always meant being fluid, and for me personally, maybe it meant allowing myself the freedom to love something deeply today, only to change my mind tomorrow. While the glass noodle soup, like anything in life, was temporary — it was no less worthy of my affection. <3

It seems that preferences and passions are constantly evolving, an experience that— surprise(!) isn't unique to just me.

I have found peace in the balance between change and stability. I'm comfortable in my fluidity. Maybe glass noodle soup will be a fleeting love, while tulips will always be my anchor — but neither are less meaningful of an affection. Both are part of who I am at this moment—and that’s more than enough for me to feel like I have a sense of self — so here's to the simple joys in life, soup, and flowers.

xx

Emmursss

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In the interest of archiving and documenting my ever-changing favorites, here are some current loves of mine (as of October 2024). :

[*Subject to revision, of course, because the only thing I can seem to commit to is change]

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• Polka Dots (preferably black & white)

• Cesar Salad with Salmon

• Clown Art

• Feminist Literature

• Big Purses

• Spring & Fall

• Thrifting

• Uptown Girls

• Lemon & Carrot Cake

• Silver Jewelry

• Bangles

• Pink Lemonade

• Skinny Glasses

• Buffy The Vampire Slayer

• Striped Clothing

• Cauliflower of ANY kind

• Big Headphones

• Sephora Lip Liners

• Camo Print

• Mini Skirts

• Tooth Gems

• Orange Blush

• Cantaloupe

• Leopard Print

• Banana Bread

• French Tip Mani Pedi

• Raspberry & Dark Chocolate