in which I both love and hate you, Chipotle
"She was humiliated to find herself a mere victim of feeling, as if she could know nothing except through that medium..." --from Middlemarch, Chapter 20
Well first of all let me just go ahead and admit to you that this little quote from Middlemarch essentially captures how I feel about graduate school. During classroom discussions I make effusive remarks with wild gestures, and feel that rather than stimulate my peers intellectually I simply amuse or even annoy them. Should I try to change this? Possibly. Am I going to anytime soon? No. Get real.
beret: Urban Outfitters (old)
scarf: handmade gift from my friend Megan!
jacket: thrifted LL Bean ($1!)
boots: Clarks, gifted
cardigan: thrifted cashmere
belt: via my mum
Americano: Prairie Lights
It was a productive day full of reading. I read for hours in the morning and for fragmented hours in the afternoon between classes. Highlilght: for lunch, Z and I went to Chipotle where I have been attempting to craft my ideal barbacoa dish. I went for the soft tacos on this particular visit. How'd that go? Well, I was utterly shorted on the barbacoa on 2 out of 3 tacos! I asked my salsa person if I could get some more meat and he said something about how that was the amount they could give and any more would be extra. I was skeptical, because I have had barbacoa in a burrito and in crispy tacos and let me tell you, there is usually more meat than I had in front of me yesterday at 12:35. I replied, "Well, that's interesting. Medium salsa please." I guess the guy felt like I was ultimately in the right, because before when I asked for guacamole on the side, he said, "I'll just throw that in, since you were unhappy about the meat." So, I got free guacamole. Which is good. But 2 out of 3 of my tacos were not barbacoa tacos with cheese and salsa and sour cream and guacamole; 2 out of 3 of the tacos were sour cream and salsa tacos with barbacoa, cheese, and guacamole.
So, the quest for the perfect dish at Chipotle continues! I have high hopes that on my next visit I will not be served "diminutive tacos" as Z later referred to them over drinks that evening.