Since I work mostly from home and have flexible hours--not to mention a strange desire to pack on the weight of responsibility more than the average human/mule can withstand--I agreed to help out. For a price, of course.
For the most part, I enjoyed my time there, even though I sometimes found boredom creeping in (note, I did manage to land the highest score on minesweeper).
On my last day, I decided to share with them my passion for cupcakes. Lucky them; lucky me! I'm always looking for willing guinea pigs.
Based on the caffeine-infested environment I had been privy to for the past two weeks, I decided to make chocolate cupcakess, come with espresso buttercream and some with mocha (these guys are hard core--they pretty much eat all three meals at the office, swishing them down with frequent coffee trips to keep the blood pumping).
I only brought in the mini ones, of both varieties, so that more people could enjoy their scrumptuousness. It was long after I arrived at 8AM, that a memo went out around the office about there being sugary food in the kitchen. Everyone was thrilled, and it was a great way to leave a good impression on my last day.
One of the staff members was totally shocked at what I had done (in a good way). She told me that she was just about to go in and pick up an order of cupcakes that look exactly like mine from a boutique shop in the west end. I told her about my dream of opening a cupcake shop and she was emphatic that I go ahead with it. In all seriousness. I was stunned (in a good way).
And yet, all of those fears also rose to the surface. I started to tell her about how I didn't really have any training, I was sure the cupcake trend has reached its peak, it was too expensive to open a shop in the city and that outside the city people had time to make their own cupcakes... The list went on and on.
It occurred to me shortly after her rebukes at my hesitance that I have let a lot of dreams slip away because of fear. Isn't it easier to hold on to the fantasy of something working out than to work hard to make it so? But it's about more than just being lazy or compliant to the way things are. It's about fear of putting yourself out there, for real, only to crash and burn. Or worse, fade away into oblivion without a soul to even notice.
I feel as though I am afraid of a lot. Every time I get on a plane, I think, there are flights that crash to the ground; it happens to some people--what if this is that flight? When I'm in a new place with new people, I often find myself wondering if I've said something to offend these folks I don't even know--what if they're whispering about me? In a situation where I know I should be standing up, speaking up, for a cause or for a person that is not being treated properly, I can hear this voice telling me that they'll only laugh--what if they need a new target to berate?
It's fear. It's powerful. It's everywhere--even in the simple act of sharing a cupcake. Will they like it? Did an egg shell manage to sneak into the batter, evevn though I was beyond careful about separating the egg whites? It can hold us back. It can shape our lives--for the better, or for the worse.
How often is fear a motivating factor in our decisions? When do you listen to the voice that tells you something is not a good idea? How do you quiet the sound of petrified heartbeats at the thought of failure, when you think the cause is worth pursuing? How do you ever know when to fight the fear of flying?
Dana, this blog is really cute. I like how you tie in the asking of life's larger questions with something as simple and dainty as cupcakes.
ReplyDeleteHope you're having a great summer :)