I had training at an independent coffee shop in East Hollywood. The owner gave me a list of espresso beverage recipes to copy down on a sheet of paper for me to memorize. The list of recipes were all acronymically written with a repetitive diacritic pattern that consisted of a circumflex above the letter ‘s’. He explained that this is the way it is written in Macedonian. I learned how to grind and tamp espresso into the portafilter and how to froth milk with a steam wand. It was very slow at times so I would sit on the leather sofa and flip through the pages of the Wall Street Journal.

For psychology class we had to write a nine-page paper formalizing our Myers-Briggs personality types with discourse that recounts the veracity of the test scores. I turned in a sophomoric, two-page paper, titled “Self-awareness of the Mundane.”

Around two years ago my friend and I were browsing at a thrift store. The store was pretty small and the clothing racks were placed in a way that made the store look like a long, vertical rectangle. A woman in her early to mid-thirties walked in and promptly asked where the jumpsuits were. She quickly skimmed through the jumpsuits on the first floor then went upstairs where the cashier told her she would find more. I never went upstairs because I was tired and sweaty and the stairs looked reduced in width and very high and I was carrying a leather rucksack backpack whose shoulder strap pulled my hair. I remember thinking that she was probably going to a jumpsuit party where everyone had to wear jumpsuits and that she wanted a jumpsuit with a vintage print.

On our way to the Fashion District my friend spouted off about how Starbucks exploits their Ethiopian coffee farmers when the bus stopped across from a Starbucks franchise at a red light. I read about the issue five semesters ago in Sociology class so I hastily said I had read something about the issue somewhere in hopes of diverting the conversation to something less contentious. We walked to Santee Alley where I right away bought some orthopedic-looking sandals and threw away the brown Mary Jane shoes I was wearing because they were old and one strap had broken. There were a lot of stretch maxi skirts with a fold-over waistband in tacky colors and in animal print but I got a beige one.

In Amadeus, Salieri’s tactful enmity toward Mozart and the way he praised him in secrecy (and I do not mean the half-hearted compliments he expressed around Emperor Joseph II and his entourage because his intent was not to exalt Mozart but to denigrate him) expounded the unfairness of life.

Today in anthropology class we discussed the role of women in art during the Paleolithic era. Our female professor asserted the aesthetic value of the labial hypertrophy of the Woman of Willendorf. Upon furthering my research on this sculpture I was linked to a page on second-wave feminism and now I am reading about the three waves of feminism.