Tall Other and I are making mac and cheese...with shells and fancy cheese. It's presently in the oven.
I don't think I want to eat it, which is weird. I'll eat anything.
We made this Addictive Mac and Cheese Recipe. It has a key ingredient I believe in for mac and cheese--nutmeg. It also uses a lot of milk. We substituted some half-and-half for some of the milk because I believe mac and cheese should be death by calories and fat.
Chris picked the cheeses--a fancy gruyere and sharp white cheddar (the recipe gives options). This is where I think we went astray. The gruyere smells and tastes like rotting feet to me. It's tainting the entire recipe.
I tried the creamy, beautiful looking cheese sauce...yuck, just yuck. It's a mouthful of athlete's foot as far as I'm concerned.
Chris thinks it smells and tastes wonderful. I'm questioning his judgment as a gourmand. I'm also really sad that he'll be eating mac and cheese, and I will be eating leftovers.
Sad face.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
"Chicken Noodle" and Art
The tall other came to visit this weekend. We usually cook with each other, but my cupboards were bare, and the fridge was pretty empty. My food amounted to some carrots, celery, and a coupon for some organic chicken, so we decided upon chicken noodle soup.
Then I remembered I had potatoes and Chris requested what he knows as "chicken noodle." In elementary school they used to serve up chicken noodle soup over mashed potatoes with a buttered roll on the side. The kids would fill their roll with the taters and soup and have a pretty carb-tastic sandwich.
My school had no such delicacies. In fact, I don't remember a school hot lunch from my childhood that I would recall as delicious the way he did chicken noodle.
We decided to skip the rolls for our childhood school lunch cooking adventure and ran off the grocery store to gather the goods needed--a whole chicken, a white onion, and some egg noodles. Chris chopped up the chicken then browned it and the veggies. The whole mess went into the crockpot, and we ran off to the art museum to wander around while it cooked.
The art was so-so, and I thought it was strange to see an Egyptian bust from 860 BC right next to a weird painting from the 1980s, but I suppose it's hard to organize such a small museum.
One of the security people at the museum pointed out to us a painting on exhibit that showed, in its background, another painting (by another artist). The painting that appeared in the background was of the first artists wife, and it was kind of cool that he included a painting of his wife by another artist in the background of his own painting.
Post-museum wandering, we returned home to a pretty tasty-smelling apartment. We hadn't eaten anything but a snack since breakfast, so I started the mashed potatoes and Chris started the noodles so that we could finish our dinner. The taters were whipped up with with butter and cream because we both eat indulgently.
The end result was heavenly and definitely had a home-cooking comfort to it--creamy, and salty, and messy.
Then I remembered I had potatoes and Chris requested what he knows as "chicken noodle." In elementary school they used to serve up chicken noodle soup over mashed potatoes with a buttered roll on the side. The kids would fill their roll with the taters and soup and have a pretty carb-tastic sandwich.
My school had no such delicacies. In fact, I don't remember a school hot lunch from my childhood that I would recall as delicious the way he did chicken noodle.
We decided to skip the rolls for our childhood school lunch cooking adventure and ran off the grocery store to gather the goods needed--a whole chicken, a white onion, and some egg noodles. Chris chopped up the chicken then browned it and the veggies. The whole mess went into the crockpot, and we ran off to the art museum to wander around while it cooked.
The art was so-so, and I thought it was strange to see an Egyptian bust from 860 BC right next to a weird painting from the 1980s, but I suppose it's hard to organize such a small museum.
One of the security people at the museum pointed out to us a painting on exhibit that showed, in its background, another painting (by another artist). The painting that appeared in the background was of the first artists wife, and it was kind of cool that he included a painting of his wife by another artist in the background of his own painting.
Post-museum wandering, we returned home to a pretty tasty-smelling apartment. We hadn't eaten anything but a snack since breakfast, so I started the mashed potatoes and Chris started the noodles so that we could finish our dinner. The taters were whipped up with with butter and cream because we both eat indulgently.
The end result was heavenly and definitely had a home-cooking comfort to it--creamy, and salty, and messy.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Sweater Election
So on facebook (before I ditched fb--over 2 weeks ago!), I had a bunch of people vote from a select few striped sweaters that I liked. When I went to buy the sweat that won, it was sold out of my size. :(
Here is a creepy and poorly done photoshop of me in the sweater for you to imagine the potential joy I was denied.
Here is a sweater I bought instead in order to try on and potentially keep. the armpits and shoulders are really big, so it's going back.
Here is another sweater I actually bought. It's comfortable and soft, so I will probably keep it.
This is the sweater that in appearances I loved the most. Actual physical comfort in this sweater leaves something to be desired. I felt like it was too short and worried that it might shrink. I will probably return it for a bigger size.
Here is a creepy and poorly done photoshop of me in the sweater for you to imagine the potential joy I was denied.
Here is another sweater I actually bought. It's comfortable and soft, so I will probably keep it.
This is the sweater that in appearances I loved the most. Actual physical comfort in this sweater leaves something to be desired. I felt like it was too short and worried that it might shrink. I will probably return it for a bigger size.
Your thoughts on the sweaters? Which do you like best? I should really only keep one.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Screwtape Letters of Fitness
For a while, I was running 3 miles before work every morning. Then I stopped. I'm not sure why or when or how. It was roughly a month ago.
Post-Thanksgiving, I was ready to get back on board, so the immediate week following, I did cardio kickboxing on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday I did Zumba. Friday I went to a class called "Fierce" that physically made me sick and so sore it hurt to move for three days.
This week, I'm back to a whole lot of sitting around doing nothing. I think I will blame some demon, tempting me to sit at home and vegetate. Let's blame Screwtape's nephew Wormwood, Junior Tempter. If you haven't read The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, it might be worth your while.
Monday, I knew I had to buy groceries, so I didn't work out. Wormwood and I had a little chat, and we decided that going to the grocery store is time consuming, so I didn't have time to work out. After shopping, I would need to go home, make some dinner, and then relax after the arduous trials of 30 minutes in a grocery store.
Tuesday (yesterday), work was just awful. Wormwood told me I needed to go home and relax, or there's no way I would survive the week. I concurred.
Today, well, Wormwood was kind enough to remind me that I needed to return some books to the library. I forgot to do it on Monday (though they're not due until Sunday), but it takes all of 5 minutes for driving there, parking, and walking inside to return the books. And I have laundry that needed doing (which I am post-poning until Friday for some reason which actually makes no sense when I try to put it in words). There was just too much to do. The gym must be put off.
In summary, I am sitting, vegetating, as usual. I'm off the hook the rest of the week because the Y is closed. How convenient is that? Wormwood can take the rest of the week and the weekend off. He deserves it. He's been successfully keeping me away from the gym for over a month, only sliding the one week.
Post-Thanksgiving, I was ready to get back on board, so the immediate week following, I did cardio kickboxing on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday I did Zumba. Friday I went to a class called "Fierce" that physically made me sick and so sore it hurt to move for three days.
This week, I'm back to a whole lot of sitting around doing nothing. I think I will blame some demon, tempting me to sit at home and vegetate. Let's blame Screwtape's nephew Wormwood, Junior Tempter. If you haven't read The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, it might be worth your while.
Monday, I knew I had to buy groceries, so I didn't work out. Wormwood and I had a little chat, and we decided that going to the grocery store is time consuming, so I didn't have time to work out. After shopping, I would need to go home, make some dinner, and then relax after the arduous trials of 30 minutes in a grocery store.
Tuesday (yesterday), work was just awful. Wormwood told me I needed to go home and relax, or there's no way I would survive the week. I concurred.
Today, well, Wormwood was kind enough to remind me that I needed to return some books to the library. I forgot to do it on Monday (though they're not due until Sunday), but it takes all of 5 minutes for driving there, parking, and walking inside to return the books. And I have laundry that needed doing (which I am post-poning until Friday for some reason which actually makes no sense when I try to put it in words). There was just too much to do. The gym must be put off.
In summary, I am sitting, vegetating, as usual. I'm off the hook the rest of the week because the Y is closed. How convenient is that? Wormwood can take the rest of the week and the weekend off. He deserves it. He's been successfully keeping me away from the gym for over a month, only sliding the one week.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Hat Crafting
So my hat project of last year never really got very far. Mostly I found myself in a standoff with some curly yarn that was interfering with the attachment of some eyeballs onto a frog. So I chose to ignore the project for almost a year.
I recently resolved that conflict by giving up on the curly yarn and doing all the stitching on of details with white straight yarn. This hat, of all my hats, defintely has what we in the yarn art world like to call "homemade charm." It looks much cooler on, and I am pretty pleased with the spots on the back. I will say, that considering the yarn, this is the hardest hat I have made. I am still tempted to removed the eyes and redo them.
I recently resolved that conflict by giving up on the curly yarn and doing all the stitching on of details with white straight yarn. This hat, of all my hats, defintely has what we in the yarn art world like to call "homemade charm." It looks much cooler on, and I am pretty pleased with the spots on the back. I will say, that considering the yarn, this is the hardest hat I have made. I am still tempted to removed the eyes and redo them.
(Forgive the quality of the photos. My only camera is my defiantly outdated phone.)
I also recently completed this bear hat, with which I am quite pleased. It turned out fairly well.
A blanket is also in progress. Take that worldy demand for productivity!
Monday, November 5, 2012
Cat Frisbee
My cat has made a recent discovery: cat frisbee.
It's unlike other forms of frisbee because cats, as you well know, lack opposable thumbs, making regular frisbee impossible.
Their small size and puny jaws make fetch frisbee of the dog variety all but impossible.
Ahh but cats have an amazing aptitude for turning any flat object on a smooth above ground surface into a frisbee.
Stack of papers or mail on your coffee table? That could be a frisbee.
Notepad on desk? Frisbee.
Book on nightstand? Frisbee.
You get the point. It turns out though, that the ultimate frisbee is a stiff woven placemat. Boy can those things launch off of a kitchen table.
The irony is that the cat generally has no interest in playing frisbee. It's only a side effect of rapid departure...usually because the cat is caught somewhere the cat is not supposed to be, like on the kitchen table playing with the string tied around the neck of the decorative vase.
It's unlike other forms of frisbee because cats, as you well know, lack opposable thumbs, making regular frisbee impossible.
Their small size and puny jaws make fetch frisbee of the dog variety all but impossible.
Ahh but cats have an amazing aptitude for turning any flat object on a smooth above ground surface into a frisbee.
Stack of papers or mail on your coffee table? That could be a frisbee.
Notepad on desk? Frisbee.
Book on nightstand? Frisbee.
You get the point. It turns out though, that the ultimate frisbee is a stiff woven placemat. Boy can those things launch off of a kitchen table.
The irony is that the cat generally has no interest in playing frisbee. It's only a side effect of rapid departure...usually because the cat is caught somewhere the cat is not supposed to be, like on the kitchen table playing with the string tied around the neck of the decorative vase.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Breaking Out of Poverty: An Exercise in Imagination
In the US, we've got a serious problem with poverty. I see it every day--dirty men curled up on bus benches or meandering the sidewalks. I rarely see women, unless they're old. The younger ones may have better access to resources, or perhaps they're in hiding. If I take my bike, the street I go down passes the shelter. There's often a group of guys hanging out in the shade of the building across the street.
I usually try to say hi.
The early morning street meanderers often don't respond. They, quite frankly, often seem a bit off--crazy. If you think they're lazy bums that need to get jobs, I think you should try talking to them. They need help, serious mental help. Judging by their ages (mostly 60-ish), I think there is a good chance they were in the Vietnam War. My patriotism tells me that I have a debt to these men, regardless of my feelings about that or any other war. Our nation sent them abroad, forced them to witness and carry out terrible acts, and then returned them here. PTS might keep them from working. Or maybe it led to a drug addiction as a means of coping. If they were convicted of drug abuse, they lose veteran benefits. Is their homelessness their fault for drug use? I don't think a nation can violate the mind of another human being with war and then abandon them for showing basic symptoms of that violation.
The group I often pass by near the shelter is younger, late 30s through 50. They are cleaner, saner, willing to engage in a hello. They're even jovial at times. Unlike the crazy wanderers, these men form a community. They are not alone. They also look like they get a shower now and again, like they're a little better fed, like given the right opportunity they could get out of their predicament. Are you upset that they hang outside the shelter waiting for a handout? I'm not. The shelter is the primary tool that helps these men to maintain the social presence that makes them seem normal to me, like they are middle class people my parents could be friends with. Perhaps they lost jobs and then homes, but they are temporary. They're not stuck. They're using the resources available to get out.
Sometimes I ask myself what if I lost my job and home and ended up on the street. How would I get out? I would be right there where those men are, taking handouts from those willing to give it so that I could rise out and up. Without such resources, there's no way I could do it otherwise, but I would be hellbent on paying back that debt when I was done.
Those men, quite honestly, seem better off even than those with places to stay near where I live. The men by the shelter are educated. You can tell they have more opportunity awaiting them. There is hope in their eyes. Go a few blocks further north and you'll see others walking or riding bicycles to work, sometimes driving rusty cars. These folks look beaten, tired. They are working hard and gaining nothing--one paycheck away from starvation or homelessness themselves. These are the ones the system fails most. They can't possibly work harder than they're already working, and somehow, we think working harder will pull them out of this mess.
I'd like to see each presidential candidate sit down with these folks and ask them how they got where they are. Those folks to the north won't have a tale about what went wrong that put them where they are. They've always been there, lacking the resources to get out. One would gladly do it. The other might claim that he would not indulge the excuses of those who would not help themselves.
Then I'd like to see each presidential candidate imagine himself in that position and describe what he could do to get out. I know which candidate can realistically anticipate the barriers of ascension. And I know which candidate does not understand that borrowing money to invest in an unsure future is not a reasonable plan of action for some and that borrowing money to invest is not even an option for others. This candidate is not alone in his failure to imagine this reality outside his own. Millions of American are ill-equipped to understand the difficulty of poverty.
I know barriers exist for these unknown neighbors of mine, and yet I cannot fathom my life with such barriers. Even if I become homeless someday, I am educated and have no physical or mental limitations, preventing me from bouncing back. I have the advantage of middle class culture. I can only image myself as one of those men outside the shelter, equipped to get back into the game instead of lost in a hopeless struggle to survive.
We have human beings here in the US, suffering. I see them. They are not bums. They are not drug addicts. They are not lazy. They are human beings. And yet, it takes seeing them every single day to remind me that they're there and that I should do something. Otherwise I might forget.
But what should I do?
I usually try to say hi.
The early morning street meanderers often don't respond. They, quite frankly, often seem a bit off--crazy. If you think they're lazy bums that need to get jobs, I think you should try talking to them. They need help, serious mental help. Judging by their ages (mostly 60-ish), I think there is a good chance they were in the Vietnam War. My patriotism tells me that I have a debt to these men, regardless of my feelings about that or any other war. Our nation sent them abroad, forced them to witness and carry out terrible acts, and then returned them here. PTS might keep them from working. Or maybe it led to a drug addiction as a means of coping. If they were convicted of drug abuse, they lose veteran benefits. Is their homelessness their fault for drug use? I don't think a nation can violate the mind of another human being with war and then abandon them for showing basic symptoms of that violation.
The group I often pass by near the shelter is younger, late 30s through 50. They are cleaner, saner, willing to engage in a hello. They're even jovial at times. Unlike the crazy wanderers, these men form a community. They are not alone. They also look like they get a shower now and again, like they're a little better fed, like given the right opportunity they could get out of their predicament. Are you upset that they hang outside the shelter waiting for a handout? I'm not. The shelter is the primary tool that helps these men to maintain the social presence that makes them seem normal to me, like they are middle class people my parents could be friends with. Perhaps they lost jobs and then homes, but they are temporary. They're not stuck. They're using the resources available to get out.
Sometimes I ask myself what if I lost my job and home and ended up on the street. How would I get out? I would be right there where those men are, taking handouts from those willing to give it so that I could rise out and up. Without such resources, there's no way I could do it otherwise, but I would be hellbent on paying back that debt when I was done.
Those men, quite honestly, seem better off even than those with places to stay near where I live. The men by the shelter are educated. You can tell they have more opportunity awaiting them. There is hope in their eyes. Go a few blocks further north and you'll see others walking or riding bicycles to work, sometimes driving rusty cars. These folks look beaten, tired. They are working hard and gaining nothing--one paycheck away from starvation or homelessness themselves. These are the ones the system fails most. They can't possibly work harder than they're already working, and somehow, we think working harder will pull them out of this mess.
I'd like to see each presidential candidate sit down with these folks and ask them how they got where they are. Those folks to the north won't have a tale about what went wrong that put them where they are. They've always been there, lacking the resources to get out. One would gladly do it. The other might claim that he would not indulge the excuses of those who would not help themselves.
Then I'd like to see each presidential candidate imagine himself in that position and describe what he could do to get out. I know which candidate can realistically anticipate the barriers of ascension. And I know which candidate does not understand that borrowing money to invest in an unsure future is not a reasonable plan of action for some and that borrowing money to invest is not even an option for others. This candidate is not alone in his failure to imagine this reality outside his own. Millions of American are ill-equipped to understand the difficulty of poverty.
I know barriers exist for these unknown neighbors of mine, and yet I cannot fathom my life with such barriers. Even if I become homeless someday, I am educated and have no physical or mental limitations, preventing me from bouncing back. I have the advantage of middle class culture. I can only image myself as one of those men outside the shelter, equipped to get back into the game instead of lost in a hopeless struggle to survive.
We have human beings here in the US, suffering. I see them. They are not bums. They are not drug addicts. They are not lazy. They are human beings. And yet, it takes seeing them every single day to remind me that they're there and that I should do something. Otherwise I might forget.
But what should I do?
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Ugly Face of Politics
The ugly face of politics has been my face. I get all fired up and reason fails, and sometimes I say brilliant things, but they are often hanging right there in the air next to dumb things. And sometimes I get mean and ugly. I hate it when other people do this, and I hate it more when I do it, but I just keep doing it, so I'm going to try to be one of those classy folks who never says a thing about politics and discretely does their civic duty and keeps it all to themself (not that the whole world doesn't already know how I feel).
Instead of this ugly face, I'm going back to focusing on food, my cat, books, and on occassion whatever I'm crafting. I shall revel in the glory of my premature old-lady-dom. It shall be glorious.
The other day I made squash while spouting a narrative of being the squash god in the style of genesis. No, I was not alone. I had a friend present. I shall endeavor more to bare such quirks in lieu of the ugly face of politics. Quirky, squash-god Schurl is much preferable.
Instead of this ugly face, I'm going back to focusing on food, my cat, books, and on occassion whatever I'm crafting. I shall revel in the glory of my premature old-lady-dom. It shall be glorious.
The other day I made squash while spouting a narrative of being the squash god in the style of genesis. No, I was not alone. I had a friend present. I shall endeavor more to bare such quirks in lieu of the ugly face of politics. Quirky, squash-god Schurl is much preferable.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Serious Apartment Hunt (sans Ego)
I've been saying I want to move so I can save more money for forever, but I don't move. Not moving is nice. Why should I really move?
My apartment is secure, and clean, and my neighbors aren't too awful, though sometimes I wish they would spontaneously combust (yesterday morning the two lovebirds next door woke me up singing an off-key duet. Note: these are not actually birds, but mid to late 30-something humans). I also have this great shower with a smooth surface that is so easy to clean. It has a nice low-flow showerhead that still offers pressure, too. I have had some plumbing issues, but maintenance here is great--super quick. I have garage space that I pay a small fortune for, but it's already prevented my car from taking a hail beating and now that I have a new bike, I can put that bike in the garage.
In other words, my life is peachy, but my budget is kind of tight to manage. When I selected this place, I was a single person with no obligations. Now I have committed to a tall awkward other that's 5 hours away, which means budgeting gas to visit and eating out (or buying fancy things to cook fancy at home). This has been a strain, but I manage, mostly by paying off the credit card debt accumulated during unemployment much more slowly than planned. Then yesterday, I committed 5% of my income to a 401k because my employers match the most at that rate, and I'm finally eligible to contribute. I kept doing my budget and thinking, 3% is all I can afford and then I input 5% on the enrollment form anyway. I'll make it work, I said to myself.
So my next step after committing myself to serious retirement savings was to cancel the automatic transfer I have scheduled to my pre-existing IRA. I will re-institute it if I find an adequate place with adequate savings. I also kind of hope to increase what I auto-transfer to my regular savings account and to increase monthly transfer to paying of my credit card. The sooner I pay off my credit card, the sooner I can pay extra on my student loans, which I will be paying off forever, so I don't even imagine life without it as a bill, but I do often dream a few years out when my car will be paid off. It's such an exciting thought.
I've had all of these goals all along, but I rented a secure downtown apartment with codes to get in, and cameras in the halls, and a deadbolt on my door. It's hard to give that up. Lately though, I think to myself, what would I do if I made what I did at my last job? I wouldn't have a choice. I would have to live in one of these other less desirable places that are available. A less secure place where I would watch my back as I walk from my car to my door and probably clutch pepper spray in my hand, mostly out of paranoia, but also because it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had those habits during my undergraduate college career, and I've already moved so far beyond that lifestyle into a land of privilege that I turn my nose up at such living and the people who live in those places, but there are plenty of nice people in poorer neighborhoods. In fact, I miss my old neighbors from my last apartment. They were nicer, and friendlier, and quieter--in interaction they behaved more like people and there was a sort of unspoken pact that we watched out for eachother because there were some unsavory types around. Other than a nod in the elevator, my current apartment is full of people who are just too busy and wrapped up in themselves. Of course, they don't have to worry about me, and I don't have to worry about them, so there isn't a whole lot of necessity for such elements of humanity.
So I've reminded myself that I am not too good to live cheap. People do it every day, and if they're smart about it, they're fine. I do kind of wish I could get a dog for an extra sense of security. I remember one summer living alone in a basement apartment with no roommate, and I used to worry someone would come in through a window in the unused room or something, so I kept a frying pan by my bed and counted on my cockatiel to squawk the alarm from the hallway. Maybe a new cockatiel would be more feasible than a dog?
My apartment is secure, and clean, and my neighbors aren't too awful, though sometimes I wish they would spontaneously combust (yesterday morning the two lovebirds next door woke me up singing an off-key duet. Note: these are not actually birds, but mid to late 30-something humans). I also have this great shower with a smooth surface that is so easy to clean. It has a nice low-flow showerhead that still offers pressure, too. I have had some plumbing issues, but maintenance here is great--super quick. I have garage space that I pay a small fortune for, but it's already prevented my car from taking a hail beating and now that I have a new bike, I can put that bike in the garage.
In other words, my life is peachy, but my budget is kind of tight to manage. When I selected this place, I was a single person with no obligations. Now I have committed to a tall awkward other that's 5 hours away, which means budgeting gas to visit and eating out (or buying fancy things to cook fancy at home). This has been a strain, but I manage, mostly by paying off the credit card debt accumulated during unemployment much more slowly than planned. Then yesterday, I committed 5% of my income to a 401k because my employers match the most at that rate, and I'm finally eligible to contribute. I kept doing my budget and thinking, 3% is all I can afford and then I input 5% on the enrollment form anyway. I'll make it work, I said to myself.
So my next step after committing myself to serious retirement savings was to cancel the automatic transfer I have scheduled to my pre-existing IRA. I will re-institute it if I find an adequate place with adequate savings. I also kind of hope to increase what I auto-transfer to my regular savings account and to increase monthly transfer to paying of my credit card. The sooner I pay off my credit card, the sooner I can pay extra on my student loans, which I will be paying off forever, so I don't even imagine life without it as a bill, but I do often dream a few years out when my car will be paid off. It's such an exciting thought.
I've had all of these goals all along, but I rented a secure downtown apartment with codes to get in, and cameras in the halls, and a deadbolt on my door. It's hard to give that up. Lately though, I think to myself, what would I do if I made what I did at my last job? I wouldn't have a choice. I would have to live in one of these other less desirable places that are available. A less secure place where I would watch my back as I walk from my car to my door and probably clutch pepper spray in my hand, mostly out of paranoia, but also because it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had those habits during my undergraduate college career, and I've already moved so far beyond that lifestyle into a land of privilege that I turn my nose up at such living and the people who live in those places, but there are plenty of nice people in poorer neighborhoods. In fact, I miss my old neighbors from my last apartment. They were nicer, and friendlier, and quieter--in interaction they behaved more like people and there was a sort of unspoken pact that we watched out for eachother because there were some unsavory types around. Other than a nod in the elevator, my current apartment is full of people who are just too busy and wrapped up in themselves. Of course, they don't have to worry about me, and I don't have to worry about them, so there isn't a whole lot of necessity for such elements of humanity.
So I've reminded myself that I am not too good to live cheap. People do it every day, and if they're smart about it, they're fine. I do kind of wish I could get a dog for an extra sense of security. I remember one summer living alone in a basement apartment with no roommate, and I used to worry someone would come in through a window in the unused room or something, so I kept a frying pan by my bed and counted on my cockatiel to squawk the alarm from the hallway. Maybe a new cockatiel would be more feasible than a dog?
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Outdoorsy Materialism
Lately, I am experiencing a new surge of materialism, which is a reminder that one purchase does not quell the desire for stuff but enhances it.
Chris and I both have recently become the proud owners of the material possessions known as bikes. I am very, very happy that we have them. I've been riding mine to work and the Y. Chris has been riding his about 10 miles a day (21 yesterday). I'm sooooo pleased about us having bikes and actually using them.
So am I content to go out and use my bike all the time and forget about making any other purchases? Nope. Yesterday, I bought new sneakers. To be fair, I bought my old pair 5 years ago and have worn the soles smooth-ish. My feet and knees have been hurting after zumba. It was time. After hours reviewing sneakers online, I ordered a pair from Dick's Sporting Goods online.
That should have been enough, but while on their website I also looked at a resistance band and earplugs for swimming. I almost bought both, but I found out I was $1 away from getting a reward that would cover most of the resistance band, so I put that on hold. I convinced myself I need it so I could get a better workout with one of my Denise Austin cheesy 90s workout videos. The earplugs I had been planning to get for some time because I do swim and I also tend to get swimmer's ear, so I feel like that's okay--and those are super cheap.
Materialism quelled? Again, no. I went to track my order to see if they were super fast and had already shipped the items yesterday and somehow found myself looking at canoes and then grills. Ridiculous. Both would be nice, except I would never use them with my partner in crime being five hours away. I'm not very good about doing things by myself.
Instead I made myself a list of activity gear, then I made myself some rules for purchases. Big ticket items like the grill and canoe cannot be purchased until my car is paid off. Little items like tennis balls, reflective gear for biking, and new fitness clothes must be earned. I haven't decided just how yet. I'm thinking maybe a short story or five must be written, polished, and posted on my blog in order to earn such things.
I may have to apply this reward system to clothing shopping too.
Chris and I both have recently become the proud owners of the material possessions known as bikes. I am very, very happy that we have them. I've been riding mine to work and the Y. Chris has been riding his about 10 miles a day (21 yesterday). I'm sooooo pleased about us having bikes and actually using them.
So am I content to go out and use my bike all the time and forget about making any other purchases? Nope. Yesterday, I bought new sneakers. To be fair, I bought my old pair 5 years ago and have worn the soles smooth-ish. My feet and knees have been hurting after zumba. It was time. After hours reviewing sneakers online, I ordered a pair from Dick's Sporting Goods online.
That should have been enough, but while on their website I also looked at a resistance band and earplugs for swimming. I almost bought both, but I found out I was $1 away from getting a reward that would cover most of the resistance band, so I put that on hold. I convinced myself I need it so I could get a better workout with one of my Denise Austin cheesy 90s workout videos. The earplugs I had been planning to get for some time because I do swim and I also tend to get swimmer's ear, so I feel like that's okay--and those are super cheap.
Materialism quelled? Again, no. I went to track my order to see if they were super fast and had already shipped the items yesterday and somehow found myself looking at canoes and then grills. Ridiculous. Both would be nice, except I would never use them with my partner in crime being five hours away. I'm not very good about doing things by myself.
Instead I made myself a list of activity gear, then I made myself some rules for purchases. Big ticket items like the grill and canoe cannot be purchased until my car is paid off. Little items like tennis balls, reflective gear for biking, and new fitness clothes must be earned. I haven't decided just how yet. I'm thinking maybe a short story or five must be written, polished, and posted on my blog in order to earn such things.
I may have to apply this reward system to clothing shopping too.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
When Did I Turn Mean?
I used to be a very, very nice person. It was my super power. You can pick, and pick, and pick at Cheryl, but she will quietly deal and still be nice. When did I stop doing that?
Now I get fired up about something and post a heated opinion on facebook. It might even offend people, and I'm not bothered by that, whereas I used to get annoyed with everyone's rhetoric. I might think to myself "Yes, that's true, but it won't convince anyone if they keep saying it that way. They're only offending people."
I used to have this response to a lot of feminist material that was man bashing and minority rhetoric that was white bashing. Yes, these powers need subverted, suppressed, but angry rants don't do a thing to change minds.
I realized recently when reading an angry rant in response to some oppressive, anti-women, legislation that angry rants aren't always about convincing the other side. Sometimes you can't convince the other side, so the only thing you can do is to rant angrily to get your own side fired up. Get them mad, make them passionate. This is a huge motivator to get people to vote. It's why politics get so ugly. Fearmonger long enough and well enough and people will have no choice but to vote for you because they're terrified of what the other side would do in office.
This cycle will never break. Fear will always be a greater motivator than any passionate agreement. But I used to feel very passionate about breaking this cycle. And I think it's still an admirable goal and effort regardless of its feasibility.
Today I was called "nice" as if somehow being nice makes me naive and simple. My views will be wrong because they aren't adequately jaded. And suddenly I'm fired up again about being the person who won't get angry, who won't be driven to fear. I will not be convinced to treat others with disdain as if to bring them down. This is an aggressive act and will be seen as an attempt to rise above them, to be the new superior ranking individual. No. I will not be shamed for my niceness. I will embrace it, and I will hope that is can create the change I hope to see in the world because I do have a world vision.
This might sound a bit communist at first, but I want to be passionate about being nice and establishing a more cohesive community-minded society through niceness. Our society is sooo individualistic, and I think that's why capitalism is failing. I believe in capitalism. I believe it is more efficient than government intervention, but I've lost faith in our cultural ability to make capitalism work. Capitalism will always fail as long as some people think that sharing with others is an enabling force and that wealth is somehow a sign of hard work and poverty a sign of laziness.
No money will trickle down from people at the top who look at the bottom and think those people aren't working hard enough or they're not educated enough. Those people at the top (most of them) have never been at the bottom and can't fairly assess the needs of people down there. If we can change our cultural mindset and recognize the humanity in eachother more through productive communication and niceness, we might actually be able to see capitalism succeed, but successful capitalism requires sharing of wealth, and since we can't be responsible enough to do that on our own, or government is going to have to step in and do it for us.
There are people working for 60 hours a week at 3 part-time jobs, earning minimum wage, and they are making far less than I do but working so much harder. They don't have benefits, and they can keep working that hard until they die, and the will probably never have anything to show for it. And don't blame them for not getting an education. They were lucky to finish high school because they started two of those jobs back then to help their parents pay bills when their younger sibling got sick and there was no insurance to cover it. And if they start dealing drugs or stealing cars and bicycles and reselling them to make money, who can blame them? What other choice did they have for success?
There are people at the top born into so much wealth and privilege, who are generous to the extent that they get a tax break, and whose money is all carefully invested by other people paid to do so. Those people may never have to work in their lives. The work they do, they do so as not to get bored, but they don't know what it's like to be at the bottom. They imagine people at the bottom are lazy and that's why they have no money.
And there are those of us in the middle, feeling like we are so strapped for cash but able to take long hot showers and baths when we want, and buy groceries that we can let go bad and throw away, and afford TV and internet. We manage to not feel guilty about the poor because we think we work hard, and, well, we just try not to think about it so that we can remain comfortable.
We build our own narratives of hard work to convince ourselves of what we deserve. We barrier ourselves from others so that we can stay ignorant and not feel any responsibility. Enough. Let's open the lines and become a real community. You want capitalism to work? Start by being nice.
Now I get fired up about something and post a heated opinion on facebook. It might even offend people, and I'm not bothered by that, whereas I used to get annoyed with everyone's rhetoric. I might think to myself "Yes, that's true, but it won't convince anyone if they keep saying it that way. They're only offending people."
I used to have this response to a lot of feminist material that was man bashing and minority rhetoric that was white bashing. Yes, these powers need subverted, suppressed, but angry rants don't do a thing to change minds.
I realized recently when reading an angry rant in response to some oppressive, anti-women, legislation that angry rants aren't always about convincing the other side. Sometimes you can't convince the other side, so the only thing you can do is to rant angrily to get your own side fired up. Get them mad, make them passionate. This is a huge motivator to get people to vote. It's why politics get so ugly. Fearmonger long enough and well enough and people will have no choice but to vote for you because they're terrified of what the other side would do in office.
This cycle will never break. Fear will always be a greater motivator than any passionate agreement. But I used to feel very passionate about breaking this cycle. And I think it's still an admirable goal and effort regardless of its feasibility.
Today I was called "nice" as if somehow being nice makes me naive and simple. My views will be wrong because they aren't adequately jaded. And suddenly I'm fired up again about being the person who won't get angry, who won't be driven to fear. I will not be convinced to treat others with disdain as if to bring them down. This is an aggressive act and will be seen as an attempt to rise above them, to be the new superior ranking individual. No. I will not be shamed for my niceness. I will embrace it, and I will hope that is can create the change I hope to see in the world because I do have a world vision.
This might sound a bit communist at first, but I want to be passionate about being nice and establishing a more cohesive community-minded society through niceness. Our society is sooo individualistic, and I think that's why capitalism is failing. I believe in capitalism. I believe it is more efficient than government intervention, but I've lost faith in our cultural ability to make capitalism work. Capitalism will always fail as long as some people think that sharing with others is an enabling force and that wealth is somehow a sign of hard work and poverty a sign of laziness.
No money will trickle down from people at the top who look at the bottom and think those people aren't working hard enough or they're not educated enough. Those people at the top (most of them) have never been at the bottom and can't fairly assess the needs of people down there. If we can change our cultural mindset and recognize the humanity in eachother more through productive communication and niceness, we might actually be able to see capitalism succeed, but successful capitalism requires sharing of wealth, and since we can't be responsible enough to do that on our own, or government is going to have to step in and do it for us.
There are people working for 60 hours a week at 3 part-time jobs, earning minimum wage, and they are making far less than I do but working so much harder. They don't have benefits, and they can keep working that hard until they die, and the will probably never have anything to show for it. And don't blame them for not getting an education. They were lucky to finish high school because they started two of those jobs back then to help their parents pay bills when their younger sibling got sick and there was no insurance to cover it. And if they start dealing drugs or stealing cars and bicycles and reselling them to make money, who can blame them? What other choice did they have for success?
There are people at the top born into so much wealth and privilege, who are generous to the extent that they get a tax break, and whose money is all carefully invested by other people paid to do so. Those people may never have to work in their lives. The work they do, they do so as not to get bored, but they don't know what it's like to be at the bottom. They imagine people at the bottom are lazy and that's why they have no money.
And there are those of us in the middle, feeling like we are so strapped for cash but able to take long hot showers and baths when we want, and buy groceries that we can let go bad and throw away, and afford TV and internet. We manage to not feel guilty about the poor because we think we work hard, and, well, we just try not to think about it so that we can remain comfortable.
We build our own narratives of hard work to convince ourselves of what we deserve. We barrier ourselves from others so that we can stay ignorant and not feel any responsibility. Enough. Let's open the lines and become a real community. You want capitalism to work? Start by being nice.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Watch the Crowd Stalk Its Prey
Gene Wolfe writes in The Shadow of the Torturer: "A crowd is not the sum of the individuals who compose it. Rather it is a species of animal, without language or real consciousness, born when they gather, dying when they depart."
I like that, and I kind of like to think that politics work this way. They are sort of non-physical crowd that has formed but has no real consciousness and though formed of people, it is not a manifestation representative of those people but a separate entity that the people are a part of but intellectually separate from.
Religion too can work this way. And yet my favorite saint, Saint Francis de Sales, convinced thousands upon thousands of Calvinists to return to the Catholic Church by the complete opposite argument. His basic idea was this: the Church is composed of its people and staying with the Church and voicing your dissent keeps the Church a stronger unified body working to change itself and improve instead of the Church breaking down into smaller weaker groups. He was operating in the 16th Century, and his belief was the strength and goodness of the people redeemed the Church against the corruption of its leaders at that time.
Saint Francis de Sales argument is compelling, and there is a certain strength in a unified body that is willing to self-evaluate and make change, but is it really possible for that sort of group consciousness and self-awareness? Gene Wolfe's character Severian would say it isn't because he sees the crowd for a mindless beast.
I think Severian is right. Humans are social creatures (whether or not the American Dream tells us we earn things independently by our own hard effort). We conform to the crowd and lose ourselves within it.
So take some time today to look at your crowds, whether they be political, religious, or otherwise, and really think hard on your own independent views. Voice your dissent. Be outspoken. Ensure that your crowd exercises self-awareness, self-evaluation, and the flexibility to change for the better. Don't let it get sucked into tradition as if history alone makes something good and equitable.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Farmers' Market Fail (ish)
So the red onion linguine I was so excited about...not really that fabulous. In fact it's pretty much wheat pasta with a vague hint of sweet red onion, and all the fabulous color bled out when I cooked it. Total fail.
My eggplant was pretty good though. I just threw it in a pot with mushrooms, tomatoes, onion, jalapeno, and a carrot. I seasoned my pot o' veggies with corianger, smoked paprika, and a tiny bit of cumin. I really cooked the veggies down to mix them in with the boring pasta. Yum! The veggies were fab.
I also bought some sweet italian sausage that paired nicely with it all. I won't be buying the fancy pasta again. I will stick to buying glorious veggies at the farmers' market.
My eggplant was pretty good though. I just threw it in a pot with mushrooms, tomatoes, onion, jalapeno, and a carrot. I seasoned my pot o' veggies with corianger, smoked paprika, and a tiny bit of cumin. I really cooked the veggies down to mix them in with the boring pasta. Yum! The veggies were fab.
I also bought some sweet italian sausage that paired nicely with it all. I won't be buying the fancy pasta again. I will stick to buying glorious veggies at the farmers' market.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Farmer's Market Find #1
I like to talk about food, so I am thinking I will do a "Farmer's Market Find" of the week every Saturday.
Today my find was Pappardelle's Sweet Red Onion Linguine. I'm a little sad to discover that they are not local. In fact they are huge and nationwide, but I don't think that diminishes the joy I find at discovering a sweet red onion pasta. Let's not go into how much effort it took not to also buy the orange szechuan or the dark chocolate linguines. Yes...they have dessert pastas, I know! The selections are so tempting, and choosing is so difficult.
I'll need to figure out what to do with this pasta, but I bought an assortment of Schurl essentials, some of which I can perhaps pair with this beautiful pasta. Other finds include: 1 white onion, 9 beautiful large button mushrooms, 1 pound of very red tomatoes, and 3 skinny eggplants. I've also got some carrots in the fridge purchased last week that need to be eaten.
I'm thinking I need to keep things simple with this pasta, so maybe I will just cook and serve them with a little oil. Maybe a light touch of parmesan shavings?
I can eat the eggplant on the side, I think. Don't even ask how I plan to prepare this purple mystery food. I want to love eggplant, but I have no idea how to cook it successfully or season it so that it tastes worth eating at all. I bought them as a gesture towards figuring that out.
This will be a meatless meal since the animal fleshes in my fridge at present are some swai (fish) and bacon. Yes, animal fleshes. I spend a lot of time with my vegan friend Molly lately, so I feel inclined to emphasize meat in ways that might bother her. I love to eat animal flesh, and I think it is a most natural thing, though I don't mind a meal without flesh or even without dairy. I'll be eating a vegan dinner with Molly this evening.
Anywho, if you're wondering, my beet adventure resulting from the farmers' market visit last week was pretty fabulous. I ate two helpings of beets, which was a poor choice since they can be rough on your digestive tract until you are adjusted. Regardless, I went for the roasted beets with cumin, lime, and mint. It was sooooo tasty. I'm not sure I recommend eating beet leaves like one would Swiss chard though. They were pretty bitter.
That is all, I guess.
Today my find was Pappardelle's Sweet Red Onion Linguine. I'm a little sad to discover that they are not local. In fact they are huge and nationwide, but I don't think that diminishes the joy I find at discovering a sweet red onion pasta. Let's not go into how much effort it took not to also buy the orange szechuan or the dark chocolate linguines. Yes...they have dessert pastas, I know! The selections are so tempting, and choosing is so difficult.
I'll need to figure out what to do with this pasta, but I bought an assortment of Schurl essentials, some of which I can perhaps pair with this beautiful pasta. Other finds include: 1 white onion, 9 beautiful large button mushrooms, 1 pound of very red tomatoes, and 3 skinny eggplants. I've also got some carrots in the fridge purchased last week that need to be eaten.
I'm thinking I need to keep things simple with this pasta, so maybe I will just cook and serve them with a little oil. Maybe a light touch of parmesan shavings?
I can eat the eggplant on the side, I think. Don't even ask how I plan to prepare this purple mystery food. I want to love eggplant, but I have no idea how to cook it successfully or season it so that it tastes worth eating at all. I bought them as a gesture towards figuring that out.
This will be a meatless meal since the animal fleshes in my fridge at present are some swai (fish) and bacon. Yes, animal fleshes. I spend a lot of time with my vegan friend Molly lately, so I feel inclined to emphasize meat in ways that might bother her. I love to eat animal flesh, and I think it is a most natural thing, though I don't mind a meal without flesh or even without dairy. I'll be eating a vegan dinner with Molly this evening.
Anywho, if you're wondering, my beet adventure resulting from the farmers' market visit last week was pretty fabulous. I ate two helpings of beets, which was a poor choice since they can be rough on your digestive tract until you are adjusted. Regardless, I went for the roasted beets with cumin, lime, and mint. It was sooooo tasty. I'm not sure I recommend eating beet leaves like one would Swiss chard though. They were pretty bitter.
That is all, I guess.
Friday, July 13, 2012
You Did It to Yourself
I just read this blog: Open Letter From a Millenial: Quit Telling Us We're Not Special. It made some good points about how younger generations struggle in ways we were not prepared for. And while I sympathize with some commenters who are older and experience the same struggles, I wonder if the mindset isn't still slightly different.
I was brought up to work hard at school, work hard at my job, and I was told I would succeed. My parents genuinely believe I can do anything. I agree that I'm pretty smart, but anything? Really? I'm too scared of failure. Trying is scary because the've made no room for failure. I settle for mediocre because it's safe. Smart or not, there are smarter more hardworking people out there. There are probably a lot of people with more impressive backgrounds too. As the author of the blog emphasized, I know I'm not special. I'm capable, but not special, and I'm not usually convinced that the full application of my capacity is worth the effort.
I have a Master's degree. I rocked grad school. But what does that mean? Not a heck of a lot. Not much at all. And I can be sensible. I know I am perhaps too educated. When I was worried that nobody would hire me post grad school because of this, my dad said to me, "You did it to yourself." And I felt some righteous indignation. I thought, you're my Dad, you're not supposed to say that. When I read the blog above, I was reminded of this comment, and I thought. No, I didn't really do this to myself because my dad was psyched when I said I was going to grad school and I was going to be teaching to pay my way. He told everyone.
My parents trained me up to be an academic--school was emphasized, but nothing beyond it. They acted like I had a bright and exciting future in front of me, but the vision stopped at that. I sometimes think it's bright, but not the brightness that was envisioned for me. It's the brightness of having a fully charged flashlight in a world of power outage. I have a job with insurance and other benefits. I think that's awesome. Lots of my friends don't have jobs. My last job didn't have benefits. It seems so cool that I have these very basic things when I know so many without. I do not live with my parents, and I can pay all my own bills. Go me!
Then a family friend asked me what I make. Feeling pretty proud of myself because, for a person with an English degree, I think I'm doing fabulously well. When I told her, her face fell, "that's not very much." No, no it isn't, but when I look around at the world today, I feel so much relief in the present knowing that I can take care of myself.
But don't get me thinking about the future. I started paying into my first retirement account at 22, the minute I got out of college. Back then, I was hoping I'd have a second account started for my parents because I know they won't be ready, and I can't rely on Social Security to take care of them. I can't afford that account I dream of setting up for them. I pay my bills and not much is leftover. I eat out maybe 4 times a month, and that's it. My expendible income is exhausted at that point.
Will I ever own a house? I have my doubts. I'm not sure I'll ever own a dog. Will I ever be able to afford kids? Maybe, but I'm not sure I'd ever be brave enough to take maternity leave to pop out tiny people to terrorize the earth.
Do I even want to invest in any of those things? I dunno. My fear about Social Security failing to take care of my parents and being entirely unavailable to me reflects the real concerns of my generation. The nation sometimes seems to be crumbling. I've thought about storing money under my matress instead of keeping a savings account, but then I think to myself, if the nation crumbles, will the currency even be valid? That's the world I live in.
Older middle class generations worried about buying a house and investing in stocks. Now they worry about keeping their homes and losing their jobs. I worry about the entire systems failure. If the banks fail and the nation shatters, I have nothing, not even the basic resources to feed myself. I live in a second floor apartment with a single north-facing window. Plants are doomed here. Maybe I read too much post-apocalyptic fiction, but those are my fears. My fears are not about being unsuccessful or losing my material wealth. My fears reflect a much greater potential for chaos in my future.
A Masters in English wasn't the smartest decision, no. I'll admit that. I should have married a farmer and worked with my hands because sometimes I think I should worry about a future where an education is worth nothing, but I was raised up to be an academic, to meet the expectations of an unsustainable American dream destined to whither before I could even attempt it.
I was brought up to work hard at school, work hard at my job, and I was told I would succeed. My parents genuinely believe I can do anything. I agree that I'm pretty smart, but anything? Really? I'm too scared of failure. Trying is scary because the've made no room for failure. I settle for mediocre because it's safe. Smart or not, there are smarter more hardworking people out there. There are probably a lot of people with more impressive backgrounds too. As the author of the blog emphasized, I know I'm not special. I'm capable, but not special, and I'm not usually convinced that the full application of my capacity is worth the effort.
I have a Master's degree. I rocked grad school. But what does that mean? Not a heck of a lot. Not much at all. And I can be sensible. I know I am perhaps too educated. When I was worried that nobody would hire me post grad school because of this, my dad said to me, "You did it to yourself." And I felt some righteous indignation. I thought, you're my Dad, you're not supposed to say that. When I read the blog above, I was reminded of this comment, and I thought. No, I didn't really do this to myself because my dad was psyched when I said I was going to grad school and I was going to be teaching to pay my way. He told everyone.
My parents trained me up to be an academic--school was emphasized, but nothing beyond it. They acted like I had a bright and exciting future in front of me, but the vision stopped at that. I sometimes think it's bright, but not the brightness that was envisioned for me. It's the brightness of having a fully charged flashlight in a world of power outage. I have a job with insurance and other benefits. I think that's awesome. Lots of my friends don't have jobs. My last job didn't have benefits. It seems so cool that I have these very basic things when I know so many without. I do not live with my parents, and I can pay all my own bills. Go me!
Then a family friend asked me what I make. Feeling pretty proud of myself because, for a person with an English degree, I think I'm doing fabulously well. When I told her, her face fell, "that's not very much." No, no it isn't, but when I look around at the world today, I feel so much relief in the present knowing that I can take care of myself.
But don't get me thinking about the future. I started paying into my first retirement account at 22, the minute I got out of college. Back then, I was hoping I'd have a second account started for my parents because I know they won't be ready, and I can't rely on Social Security to take care of them. I can't afford that account I dream of setting up for them. I pay my bills and not much is leftover. I eat out maybe 4 times a month, and that's it. My expendible income is exhausted at that point.
Will I ever own a house? I have my doubts. I'm not sure I'll ever own a dog. Will I ever be able to afford kids? Maybe, but I'm not sure I'd ever be brave enough to take maternity leave to pop out tiny people to terrorize the earth.
Do I even want to invest in any of those things? I dunno. My fear about Social Security failing to take care of my parents and being entirely unavailable to me reflects the real concerns of my generation. The nation sometimes seems to be crumbling. I've thought about storing money under my matress instead of keeping a savings account, but then I think to myself, if the nation crumbles, will the currency even be valid? That's the world I live in.
Older middle class generations worried about buying a house and investing in stocks. Now they worry about keeping their homes and losing their jobs. I worry about the entire systems failure. If the banks fail and the nation shatters, I have nothing, not even the basic resources to feed myself. I live in a second floor apartment with a single north-facing window. Plants are doomed here. Maybe I read too much post-apocalyptic fiction, but those are my fears. My fears are not about being unsuccessful or losing my material wealth. My fears reflect a much greater potential for chaos in my future.
A Masters in English wasn't the smartest decision, no. I'll admit that. I should have married a farmer and worked with my hands because sometimes I think I should worry about a future where an education is worth nothing, but I was raised up to be an academic, to meet the expectations of an unsustainable American dream destined to whither before I could even attempt it.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Sundays are for Dreaming
Sometimes, I find Sundays are for getting things done--all the things that I should have done on Saturday but didn't because I was being a bum or had too many social plans. On Sundays, I clean; I run errands; I cook and bake.
Sometimes, I find Sundays are for thought, for deep thinking. On Sundays, I'll sit in the bathtub and read a book. On Sundays, I sometimes actually write and draw. On Sundays, I sit around with ideas, write blogs I'll never publish, read articles, makes lists and plans to do things I will probably never do. Sunday is often a day for dreaming of how I want my life to be. Life may never be as I dream it, but I think the exercise of dreaming it is important. It keeps me sane. Dreams are what keep everyone sane. Lord knows our lives usually aren't cut out to do that for us.
Today, like many days the plan I'm making is to be more fit, to control my gluttony and work out more regularly. I live such a sedentary life. Eight or nine hours for five days a week barely moving from my chair at work, pulling cookies out of my desk drawer when I just can't take the brain drain of work anymore.
If I'm good, I go to the Y after work, get sweaty and gross or chlorinated in the pool for an hour. I'm often not good and go straight home.
Then I eat, and if I'm good it's full of vegetables and few carbs and meat, but someitmes I'm bad and it's nachos. Mmmmm, nachos. Lately there is always ice cream, which is often paired with chocolate cake. Don't judge me--it's all homemade and gloriously irresistable. I like to think that even if I'm indulging in too much fat and sugar at least there are few to no preservatives.
This eating takes place at the coffee table, in front of the computer or the TV (often both). I might spend the evening reading with my laptop ready should Chris pop in to chat, or watching my latest television show, rarely remembering to justify it by crocheting.
In other words, I go from glued to a desk chair all day, to glued to a couch, and then I sleep, glued to my bed. I don't move. I may grow moss soon, and while I like the image of me starting to take root, turning tree-like, growing moss, sprouting leaves, and generally becoming covered in vegetation, in reality I know that what's happening is my metabolism is slowing, and my blood pressure is lowering, and I may start to build up fat in my system even though I look pretty healthy, on the thinner side of curvy. This misleading appearance may be the bain of my motivation to actually be fit.
I need a non-appearance related goal that is also not tied to a fitness routine (I will fudge a fitness routine), so my goal is to get back to the weight I was when I know I was healthy, when I worked out twice a day, ate five snacks instead of three meals, and counted my calories. I was in such incredible control of my food intake and my fitness, and I locked in to a weight range about ten pounds lighter than my current range. I never got below that, I just stayed there no matter what I tried to do, so I'm going to try to get back there. Although given the lapsed time since then, perhaps my current weight is the new minimum. Female bodies are known for such shifts.
Now that that's all planned, I'll probably go read in the bathtub and dream of a small house with no extra space. I want a backyard with a garden (which in reality I would have a patch of ground where nothing comes up and things that did would be withered), a big lazy adoring dog, and perhaps some chickens for fresh eggs. This house should have a little garage on the side where I can park my car and do some creative projects--refinish and reupholster furniture. That's the dream, but it's entirely unrealistic at the moment.
Sometimes, I find Sundays are for thought, for deep thinking. On Sundays, I'll sit in the bathtub and read a book. On Sundays, I sometimes actually write and draw. On Sundays, I sit around with ideas, write blogs I'll never publish, read articles, makes lists and plans to do things I will probably never do. Sunday is often a day for dreaming of how I want my life to be. Life may never be as I dream it, but I think the exercise of dreaming it is important. It keeps me sane. Dreams are what keep everyone sane. Lord knows our lives usually aren't cut out to do that for us.
Today, like many days the plan I'm making is to be more fit, to control my gluttony and work out more regularly. I live such a sedentary life. Eight or nine hours for five days a week barely moving from my chair at work, pulling cookies out of my desk drawer when I just can't take the brain drain of work anymore.
If I'm good, I go to the Y after work, get sweaty and gross or chlorinated in the pool for an hour. I'm often not good and go straight home.
Then I eat, and if I'm good it's full of vegetables and few carbs and meat, but someitmes I'm bad and it's nachos. Mmmmm, nachos. Lately there is always ice cream, which is often paired with chocolate cake. Don't judge me--it's all homemade and gloriously irresistable. I like to think that even if I'm indulging in too much fat and sugar at least there are few to no preservatives.
This eating takes place at the coffee table, in front of the computer or the TV (often both). I might spend the evening reading with my laptop ready should Chris pop in to chat, or watching my latest television show, rarely remembering to justify it by crocheting.
In other words, I go from glued to a desk chair all day, to glued to a couch, and then I sleep, glued to my bed. I don't move. I may grow moss soon, and while I like the image of me starting to take root, turning tree-like, growing moss, sprouting leaves, and generally becoming covered in vegetation, in reality I know that what's happening is my metabolism is slowing, and my blood pressure is lowering, and I may start to build up fat in my system even though I look pretty healthy, on the thinner side of curvy. This misleading appearance may be the bain of my motivation to actually be fit.
I need a non-appearance related goal that is also not tied to a fitness routine (I will fudge a fitness routine), so my goal is to get back to the weight I was when I know I was healthy, when I worked out twice a day, ate five snacks instead of three meals, and counted my calories. I was in such incredible control of my food intake and my fitness, and I locked in to a weight range about ten pounds lighter than my current range. I never got below that, I just stayed there no matter what I tried to do, so I'm going to try to get back there. Although given the lapsed time since then, perhaps my current weight is the new minimum. Female bodies are known for such shifts.
Now that that's all planned, I'll probably go read in the bathtub and dream of a small house with no extra space. I want a backyard with a garden (which in reality I would have a patch of ground where nothing comes up and things that did would be withered), a big lazy adoring dog, and perhaps some chickens for fresh eggs. This house should have a little garage on the side where I can park my car and do some creative projects--refinish and reupholster furniture. That's the dream, but it's entirely unrealistic at the moment.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Beets, Beets, Beets
I have always eaten beets from a can, and I like them. They turn my fingers pink, and taste sweet and earthy. Not to mention eating something straight out of the can is so easy and convenient. Except, I always feel so guilty for eating any food that comes in a package. It is sooooooooooooo wasteful.
So I bought beets at the farmers' market in part because my boyfriend who lives far away got some in a produce basket he receives weekly, and he hated them. I am determined to find a way to perfect the eating of beets so that he will love them. (He lives far away, so I was not a part of his initial experimentation with beets.) I also bought some carrots. It was a weekend for purchasing roots, I guess. I will probably cook up the beet leaves the same way I do Swiss chard. I'm not sure how I will cook the actual beets.
One plan is to shred a beet with some carrots to eat over salad.
I also plan to roast some beets with cumin, lime, and mint--as recommended by a recipe card I received from the farmers' market. I may post the recipe and more detail on how this adventure goes when I do it.
Finally, I am contemplating a good mole-fashioned deeper'n'ever-turinip'n'tater'n'beet-root pie. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly never read Brian Jacques Redwall series as a child. I have made this long-monikered pie out of the Redwall Cookbook (the stories were originally written for blind children, so they feature a lot of food talk to engage alternate senses), but it didn't include beets in it. The beets were served on the side. I wonder if that's because of a conflict of flavors or an issue with color.
Regardless, once I have roasted a few beets and get a sense of how I can blend them with seasonings, I will probably tackle developing my own deeper'n'ever-turinip'n'tater'n'beet-root pie. The cookbook's version is pretty bland and required a lot of salt and pepper. Its carrot layer was definitely the best part, but there are no carrots in the name. I can't remember if they were in the description. I may or may not include carrots in my version. We shall see.
You should eat beets, too. I will argue that they are good for you because beet juice and beets were included in a colon cleanse I did with my mom a few years ago, though my friend Molly warns that eating raw beets in large quantities can be dangerous because it is a blood cleanser. She also overshared that your pee can turn pink. That's never happened to me as a result of eating canned beets, but I suppose my adventures in farmers' market beets my have a different result.
So I bought beets at the farmers' market in part because my boyfriend who lives far away got some in a produce basket he receives weekly, and he hated them. I am determined to find a way to perfect the eating of beets so that he will love them. (He lives far away, so I was not a part of his initial experimentation with beets.) I also bought some carrots. It was a weekend for purchasing roots, I guess. I will probably cook up the beet leaves the same way I do Swiss chard. I'm not sure how I will cook the actual beets.
One plan is to shred a beet with some carrots to eat over salad.
I also plan to roast some beets with cumin, lime, and mint--as recommended by a recipe card I received from the farmers' market. I may post the recipe and more detail on how this adventure goes when I do it.
Finally, I am contemplating a good mole-fashioned deeper'n'ever-turinip'n'tater'n'beet-root pie. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly never read Brian Jacques Redwall series as a child. I have made this long-monikered pie out of the Redwall Cookbook (the stories were originally written for blind children, so they feature a lot of food talk to engage alternate senses), but it didn't include beets in it. The beets were served on the side. I wonder if that's because of a conflict of flavors or an issue with color.
Regardless, once I have roasted a few beets and get a sense of how I can blend them with seasonings, I will probably tackle developing my own deeper'n'ever-turinip'n'tater'n'beet-root pie. The cookbook's version is pretty bland and required a lot of salt and pepper. Its carrot layer was definitely the best part, but there are no carrots in the name. I can't remember if they were in the description. I may or may not include carrots in my version. We shall see.
You should eat beets, too. I will argue that they are good for you because beet juice and beets were included in a colon cleanse I did with my mom a few years ago, though my friend Molly warns that eating raw beets in large quantities can be dangerous because it is a blood cleanser. She also overshared that your pee can turn pink. That's never happened to me as a result of eating canned beets, but I suppose my adventures in farmers' market beets my have a different result.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Olive Oil and Salt Dessert
So I have another vice.
While driving home from Omaha, I was listening to The Splendid Table, and a guest recommended putting sea salt on desserts. One particular image she conjured up was of a chocolate torte with sea salt sprinkled over it. Yum!
She even recommended using olive oil in chocolate cake and drizzling it on vanilla ice cream. (I wasn't so sure about olive oil on ice cream.)
So what did I do?
I made homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Then I made a chocolate cake with olive oil. Then I put them together, drizzled more olive oil over the top, sprinkled it with sea salt, and ate.
End result?
Well...I better start working out more. It was fabulous!
While driving home from Omaha, I was listening to The Splendid Table, and a guest recommended putting sea salt on desserts. One particular image she conjured up was of a chocolate torte with sea salt sprinkled over it. Yum!
She even recommended using olive oil in chocolate cake and drizzling it on vanilla ice cream. (I wasn't so sure about olive oil on ice cream.)
So what did I do?
I made homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Then I made a chocolate cake with olive oil. Then I put them together, drizzled more olive oil over the top, sprinkled it with sea salt, and ate.
End result?
Well...I better start working out more. It was fabulous!
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Catholic Priorities
As a Catholic, I have been asked to set aside all other worthy aims and vote for Republicans because they tend to be prolife. Saving the unborn trumps all other causes. I still think it's a worthwhile fight but I'm sick of the attitude that all other battles are moot.
As a Catholic I care about a lot of other things. Adam and Eve were supposedly put on this earth to tend a garden, but we're not being very good stewards of the Earthly garden we live on. We abuse it with mining and pollution, with short-term industrial aims. As a Catholic, I'm a steward of the Earth, and I'm tired of Republicans not caring.
As a Catholic, I have been told to be pro-immigration. I take this to heart, and I think too many other Catholics ignore it in favor of only taking care of people in this country. Does our charity end at our borders? As a Catholic, I care about all people, and I don't discriminate based on country of origin.
As a Catholic, I'm supposed to follow the example of Jesus. You know, the guy who was charitable and kind to the heathens, and scolded his own people for their legalism. He didn't take political action and try to change the Roman law for the benefit of his own faith. He was kind to those who were different so that they would openly choose the Christian faith.
If I force you not to sin does that save your soul? Nope, I'm pretty sure that requires a change of heart. And what oppressed, belittled person is going to embrace their oppressor?
My faith does not extend into creating laws that force women to adhere to my religious values. My faith does give me any rights to prevent you from expressing your faith. My faith does not provide me with grounds to deny housing or marriage to same-sex couples. My faith does not give me any rights to treat other human beings with less than perfect charity.
So if I ask myself which party embodies the principles of my faith more, I can look to the Democratic Party. As an economically moderate conservative, I have HUGE problems with how they handle things, but as a Catholic, I genuinely believe they have principles I believe in--principles based in charity not finances.
As a Catholic I care about a lot of other things. Adam and Eve were supposedly put on this earth to tend a garden, but we're not being very good stewards of the Earthly garden we live on. We abuse it with mining and pollution, with short-term industrial aims. As a Catholic, I'm a steward of the Earth, and I'm tired of Republicans not caring.
As a Catholic, I have been told to be pro-immigration. I take this to heart, and I think too many other Catholics ignore it in favor of only taking care of people in this country. Does our charity end at our borders? As a Catholic, I care about all people, and I don't discriminate based on country of origin.
As a Catholic, I'm supposed to follow the example of Jesus. You know, the guy who was charitable and kind to the heathens, and scolded his own people for their legalism. He didn't take political action and try to change the Roman law for the benefit of his own faith. He was kind to those who were different so that they would openly choose the Christian faith.
If I force you not to sin does that save your soul? Nope, I'm pretty sure that requires a change of heart. And what oppressed, belittled person is going to embrace their oppressor?
My faith does not extend into creating laws that force women to adhere to my religious values. My faith does give me any rights to prevent you from expressing your faith. My faith does not provide me with grounds to deny housing or marriage to same-sex couples. My faith does not give me any rights to treat other human beings with less than perfect charity.
So if I ask myself which party embodies the principles of my faith more, I can look to the Democratic Party. As an economically moderate conservative, I have HUGE problems with how they handle things, but as a Catholic, I genuinely believe they have principles I believe in--principles based in charity not finances.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
My New Favorite Green
Swiss chard is my new favorite green. It's so buttery and creamy--flavors I never expected to associate with a lettuce-y food. Yum!
I cut out the stalks and saved them to put in a pasta later, and I sliced the leaves into long strips. Then I browned some diced garlic, shallot, and serrano pepper in olive oil in a sauce pan. Once it was browned, I threw in my chard and covered the pan with a lid for a couple minutes. Opened that sucker back up, flipped the chard a bit, and closed the lid again. I pulled it all out when the leaves were a bit wilted.
Then I ate some even though my whole dinner is not ready yet. It was delicious. The only thing keeping me from eating the entire bag's worth for tonight's meal (not really that much with the shrinking that happens during cooking) is that I am back to making menus again. If I eat it now, Thursday will be foodless according to the plans of the menu. Oh well. It will be yummy then, and I won't be forced to eat something lame for dinner on Thursday instead.
Trying a new fish to go with it...swai. It was on sale in the grocery store. I got a giant bag for $8. I have coated it in homemade bread crumbs made from the heel of my french loaf. I mixed the bread crumbs with cayenne pepper, smoked paprika, cumin, and garlic powder. The fish went in an olive oiled pan, was covered in breadcrumbs, and juiced with a bit of lemon. It's now in the oven at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes. It's already smelling good, so I think it will also taste good.
I cut out the stalks and saved them to put in a pasta later, and I sliced the leaves into long strips. Then I browned some diced garlic, shallot, and serrano pepper in olive oil in a sauce pan. Once it was browned, I threw in my chard and covered the pan with a lid for a couple minutes. Opened that sucker back up, flipped the chard a bit, and closed the lid again. I pulled it all out when the leaves were a bit wilted.
Then I ate some even though my whole dinner is not ready yet. It was delicious. The only thing keeping me from eating the entire bag's worth for tonight's meal (not really that much with the shrinking that happens during cooking) is that I am back to making menus again. If I eat it now, Thursday will be foodless according to the plans of the menu. Oh well. It will be yummy then, and I won't be forced to eat something lame for dinner on Thursday instead.
Trying a new fish to go with it...swai. It was on sale in the grocery store. I got a giant bag for $8. I have coated it in homemade bread crumbs made from the heel of my french loaf. I mixed the bread crumbs with cayenne pepper, smoked paprika, cumin, and garlic powder. The fish went in an olive oiled pan, was covered in breadcrumbs, and juiced with a bit of lemon. It's now in the oven at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes. It's already smelling good, so I think it will also taste good.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Mmmmmmm Bread
So I'm making a dill batter bread. As usual, I don't want to follow directions/didn't have everything/didn't want to buy everything. In other words, I tweaked my recipe a bit both because I am lazy and because I thought I could do better. Mine is just rising right now, but it already smells fabulous.
Things you will need:
Things you will need:
- 1 3/4 cups all purpose flour (it will be split into 1 cup for initial use, and you'll add the 3/4 cup at the end)
- 1 package dry active yeast
- 1/2 cup water
- 1/2 cup cottage cheese
- 2 tablespoons sugar
- 1 tablespoon dill
- 1 tablespoon butter
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1 egg
- 1/4 cup food-processed sunflower seeds
- Grease a round 9-inch baking pan.
- Stir 1 cup flour and the yeast together in a large bowl.
- In a medium saucepan heat and stir everything from the water to the salt together until it's warm and the butter is almost completely melted.
- Add the cottage cheese mixture to the flour mixture.
- Beat on low for 30 seconds.
- Beat on high for 3 minutes.
- Stir in remaining flour and sunflower seeds with a wooden spoon.
- Spoon the batter into the baking pan and spread it to the edges.
- Cover it and let it rise for about an hour.
- Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
- Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until golden.
- Immediately remove from pan.
- Serve warm.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
A Proper Villain
So, in continuation of the thoughts of yesterday, I have realized that I don't think I can write a proper villain.
I've always had some issues with my novel's villain. It's a fantasy novel; he should be dripping with evil, though charming. I have these requirements of him, but that's about all he is at the moment. Actually, all he happens to be is charming. I don't know how to write evil. I can't get into that mindframe at all.
For one, I don't genuinely believe in human evil. There are evil acts, but I don't believe any human is evil. Technically, this character is not exactly human, but he's humanoid, and that's a problem for my imagination.
So how do I write this evil character? I'm not sure. If I really try to get into it, will it make me a bit batty or evil myself? CS Lewis was clear that in writing The Screwtape Letters from the point of view of a demon he risked losing something of himself. Getting into the mindset of a demon tainted him, and he had to work hard to get it out.
So do I indulge in my evil sides so that I can become this character when I write him the way I do my other characters? Or do I risk inauthenticity? I don't know.
Here's a fabulous Toni Morrison quote that I can't help but share in reflecting on the risks of writing about evil: "[C]haracters make claims, impose demands of imaginative accountability over and above the author's will to contain them."
I've always had some issues with my novel's villain. It's a fantasy novel; he should be dripping with evil, though charming. I have these requirements of him, but that's about all he is at the moment. Actually, all he happens to be is charming. I don't know how to write evil. I can't get into that mindframe at all.
For one, I don't genuinely believe in human evil. There are evil acts, but I don't believe any human is evil. Technically, this character is not exactly human, but he's humanoid, and that's a problem for my imagination.
So how do I write this evil character? I'm not sure. If I really try to get into it, will it make me a bit batty or evil myself? CS Lewis was clear that in writing The Screwtape Letters from the point of view of a demon he risked losing something of himself. Getting into the mindset of a demon tainted him, and he had to work hard to get it out.
So do I indulge in my evil sides so that I can become this character when I write him the way I do my other characters? Or do I risk inauthenticity? I don't know.
Here's a fabulous Toni Morrison quote that I can't help but share in reflecting on the risks of writing about evil: "[C]haracters make claims, impose demands of imaginative accountability over and above the author's will to contain them."
Monday, May 28, 2012
On Novel Revision and My Research Endeavors
When is revision too much? For me, it may always be too much.
Every time I sit down to work on my novel, progress becomes locked in a grid of "what if?" I seek to network the needs of varying audiences, themes, missions, plots, agendas, social requirements. Any complication I can think of will halt the writing process. I have to plan to work everything in.
Twice I have made an overhaul of this novel, revising it entirely with something foundational molded anew or scrapped and replaced. First, I erased my main character because she was hollow. In her stead two male characters have arisen. Their rough outlines were taken from a short story I wrote for a class, but in the course of the narrative they grew into two human beings who I know intimately. They were not a plan. They were organically born and as I wrote I got to know them.
Lately, this organic approach to writing has shriveled. My second major revision is to make this novel a rhetorical opening out. A gateway to understanding and acceptance of a variety of viewpoints, but my own is so narrow. Needing to know more, I research and research and research. I have lengthy lists of books to read to help me fully develop the themes I want to ecapsulate and develop real characters to create those themes where my personal experieince will fail me. This is a daunting task.
I intended to finish my novel by the end of 2012, but after developing a research plan, I decided it would be more feasible to shoot for the end of 2015. Do I really need four extra years?
The answer is no. I've got to stop. Simplicity is needed.
I'm currently reading Toni Morrison's Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination. I just finished the chapter "Black Matters." At first, I thought I should, as a writer, do what Morrison describes as "entering what one is estranged from." This was already a goal of my writing, but as I continued reading, it became clear that I should limit myself to alien things closer to home--to experiences of alienation that, though not my own, I have at least been witness to and can begin to imagine. Empathy is a natural trait for writers in my opinion. It lets them easily jump into the lives of others and live the experience. Morrison is surprised by some of the successful capturing of perspectives that are other than the authors she encounters.
I felt sure that somewhere in "Black Matters" I would find the key to what I want to do, but I think I perhaps found the key to what not to do. Through the course of this piece, Morrison recognizes that in engaging with the Other, a writer may reinforce prejudices. I was quick to think, "I don't want to do that! Lead me on to the path of avoiding this affront," but Morrison didn't. The issue is complicated. In a nutshell, Morrison clarifies that the risk of working to undermine prejudices also inherently carries with it the liklihood of inauthenticity.
How does a person successfully undermine a problematic system when the system is in part a key to authenticity? Furthermore, how does a person create true authenticity in narrative when the system is foreign. It's not just a matter of character. Is there any way I can organically imagine an Othered character and the complex background they would arise from the way I can my two heroes? Could I intimately know such a character and how they would react in any given circumstance? I don't think so.
If I tried, I would fail. I should point out that Morrison is appreciative of such failures. Though they are indeed failures and subject to criticism, she recognizes that the act of such a writing endeavor is a brave and worthy cause for the mind of the author if no one else. I think I will continue such exercises of the mind, but for now, I will leave them out of my writing--or at least writing I intend to share. This novel project is simplifying to concentrate on issues I know that I can write naturally without a concerted effort to try to work beyond the limits of my own imagination. I'm not ready for that.
Every time I sit down to work on my novel, progress becomes locked in a grid of "what if?" I seek to network the needs of varying audiences, themes, missions, plots, agendas, social requirements. Any complication I can think of will halt the writing process. I have to plan to work everything in.
Twice I have made an overhaul of this novel, revising it entirely with something foundational molded anew or scrapped and replaced. First, I erased my main character because she was hollow. In her stead two male characters have arisen. Their rough outlines were taken from a short story I wrote for a class, but in the course of the narrative they grew into two human beings who I know intimately. They were not a plan. They were organically born and as I wrote I got to know them.
Lately, this organic approach to writing has shriveled. My second major revision is to make this novel a rhetorical opening out. A gateway to understanding and acceptance of a variety of viewpoints, but my own is so narrow. Needing to know more, I research and research and research. I have lengthy lists of books to read to help me fully develop the themes I want to ecapsulate and develop real characters to create those themes where my personal experieince will fail me. This is a daunting task.
I intended to finish my novel by the end of 2012, but after developing a research plan, I decided it would be more feasible to shoot for the end of 2015. Do I really need four extra years?
The answer is no. I've got to stop. Simplicity is needed.
I'm currently reading Toni Morrison's Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination. I just finished the chapter "Black Matters." At first, I thought I should, as a writer, do what Morrison describes as "entering what one is estranged from." This was already a goal of my writing, but as I continued reading, it became clear that I should limit myself to alien things closer to home--to experiences of alienation that, though not my own, I have at least been witness to and can begin to imagine. Empathy is a natural trait for writers in my opinion. It lets them easily jump into the lives of others and live the experience. Morrison is surprised by some of the successful capturing of perspectives that are other than the authors she encounters.
I felt sure that somewhere in "Black Matters" I would find the key to what I want to do, but I think I perhaps found the key to what not to do. Through the course of this piece, Morrison recognizes that in engaging with the Other, a writer may reinforce prejudices. I was quick to think, "I don't want to do that! Lead me on to the path of avoiding this affront," but Morrison didn't. The issue is complicated. In a nutshell, Morrison clarifies that the risk of working to undermine prejudices also inherently carries with it the liklihood of inauthenticity.
How does a person successfully undermine a problematic system when the system is in part a key to authenticity? Furthermore, how does a person create true authenticity in narrative when the system is foreign. It's not just a matter of character. Is there any way I can organically imagine an Othered character and the complex background they would arise from the way I can my two heroes? Could I intimately know such a character and how they would react in any given circumstance? I don't think so.
If I tried, I would fail. I should point out that Morrison is appreciative of such failures. Though they are indeed failures and subject to criticism, she recognizes that the act of such a writing endeavor is a brave and worthy cause for the mind of the author if no one else. I think I will continue such exercises of the mind, but for now, I will leave them out of my writing--or at least writing I intend to share. This novel project is simplifying to concentrate on issues I know that I can write naturally without a concerted effort to try to work beyond the limits of my own imagination. I'm not ready for that.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Honey or Brown Sugar
So the folks in the graphics department at work discovered that I keep a drawer full of cookies. I'm going to have to start keeping a larger stockpile on hand. I'm thinking more variety too.
I usually take requests from my office mate. We've had regular chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal walnut dark chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and sour cream chocolate drop cookies. Most recently, he put in a request for oatmeal raisin cookies, so I'm planning oatmeal raisin cookies and oatmeal craisin cookies (you know, with dried cranberries) because I don't like raisins when they've been cooked.
Of course, he's on vacation this week, so I've actually been dragging my feet about making cookies even though it's really hard for me to make it through the day without a mid-morning and an afternoon cookie.
Then the graphics department was complaining that they needed sugar, and one of the graphics guys who knows about my drawer informed them of the cache of cookies. Unfortunately, I didn't have any cookies for them. The drawer has been empty for days.
I decided, however, that cookies might be the way to bridge the department gap. We don't have a huge chasm dividing us, but there is a small divide. In the spirit of community cookie sharing, I took a cookie request from the person I know best in graphics. She apparently LOVES peanut butter cookies. The all caps is necessary because that's how she emailed me her cookie request.
So I'm making her peanut butter cookies, and I learned a new trick from my peanut butter cookie recipe as part of the process. You can replace brown sugar with 1/2 as much honey. The dough turns out gooier, but if you pop it in the fridge for a bit, you can remedy any difficulty created in dough handling.
Let me tell you...this batter is yummy. I don't imagine this will do anything to prevent how hard peanut butter cookies turn, and I hope it doesn't make that issue worse. Regardless, at present, the flavor is heavenly. I don't know that I would exchange brown sugar for honey in all my cookie recipes, but for peanut butter cookies, it's delectable--which is kind of the goal.
I usually take requests from my office mate. We've had regular chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal walnut dark chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and sour cream chocolate drop cookies. Most recently, he put in a request for oatmeal raisin cookies, so I'm planning oatmeal raisin cookies and oatmeal craisin cookies (you know, with dried cranberries) because I don't like raisins when they've been cooked.
Of course, he's on vacation this week, so I've actually been dragging my feet about making cookies even though it's really hard for me to make it through the day without a mid-morning and an afternoon cookie.
Then the graphics department was complaining that they needed sugar, and one of the graphics guys who knows about my drawer informed them of the cache of cookies. Unfortunately, I didn't have any cookies for them. The drawer has been empty for days.
I decided, however, that cookies might be the way to bridge the department gap. We don't have a huge chasm dividing us, but there is a small divide. In the spirit of community cookie sharing, I took a cookie request from the person I know best in graphics. She apparently LOVES peanut butter cookies. The all caps is necessary because that's how she emailed me her cookie request.
So I'm making her peanut butter cookies, and I learned a new trick from my peanut butter cookie recipe as part of the process. You can replace brown sugar with 1/2 as much honey. The dough turns out gooier, but if you pop it in the fridge for a bit, you can remedy any difficulty created in dough handling.
Let me tell you...this batter is yummy. I don't imagine this will do anything to prevent how hard peanut butter cookies turn, and I hope it doesn't make that issue worse. Regardless, at present, the flavor is heavenly. I don't know that I would exchange brown sugar for honey in all my cookie recipes, but for peanut butter cookies, it's delectable--which is kind of the goal.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Sour Cream-Chocolate Drop Cookies
Um...these cookies turned out like little brownie bites, so I thought I would share.
Ingredients:
Ingredients:
- 1/2 cup butter, softened
- 1 cup brown sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 6 tablespoons dark chocolate cocoa
- 2 tablespoons shortening
- 1 packet instant chocolate pudding
- 1 8oz carton sour cream
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
- Beat butter with electric mixer.
- Add brown sugar, baking soda, and salt.
- Beat in egg, vanilla, cocoa, shortening, and chocolate pudding.
- Beat in sour cream.
- Beat in flour.
- Drop rounded teaspoons onto cookie sheet and flatten a little.
- Bake ten minutes.
- Transfer cookies to a wire rack to cook.
- Eat and be happy.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
The Master of No-Follow-Through
I am the master of no-follow-through.
I challenge myself to improve:
To run and swim and crunch,
to read literature,
to learn about the cosmos and the mind,
to write poetry,
to finish my novel,
to publish short stories,
to bake bread,
to make pastries,
to minimize and declutter,
to do so many little things.
I stack them so high and so deep
(there are so many)
that I find myself staring at a mountain range
constructed of tiny goals
and I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
But I can hike a 14-er in a day,
one dedicated day of devotion
to a task worth striving for.
So I'll pick one peak to climb to,
make a dedicated hike,
knowing there's no stopping.
I must hike to the top or turn back,
wasting so much of my spirit
on yet another failure.
So I'll make a dedicated hike,
trudging onward until
I can sit at the top,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
and then choose another peak.
It might take a lifetime,
but I'll cross this mountain range of mine,
conquer every peak,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
let my wearied body sleep.
But for now I'm just still planning,
thinking, dreaming, scheming.
I challenge myself to improve,
to do so many little things,
but I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
I am the master of no-follow-through.
I challenge myself to improve:
To run and swim and crunch,
to read literature,
to learn about the cosmos and the mind,
to write poetry,
to finish my novel,
to publish short stories,
to bake bread,
to make pastries,
to minimize and declutter,
to do so many little things.
I stack them so high and so deep
(there are so many)
that I find myself staring at a mountain range
constructed of tiny goals
and I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
But I can hike a 14-er in a day,
one dedicated day of devotion
to a task worth striving for.
So I'll pick one peak to climb to,
make a dedicated hike,
knowing there's no stopping.
I must hike to the top or turn back,
wasting so much of my spirit
on yet another failure.
So I'll make a dedicated hike,
trudging onward until
I can sit at the top,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
and then choose another peak.
It might take a lifetime,
but I'll cross this mountain range of mine,
conquer every peak,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
let my wearied body sleep.
But for now I'm just still planning,
thinking, dreaming, scheming.
I challenge myself to improve,
to do so many little things,
but I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
I am the master of no-follow-through.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Grocery-Shop-Free Challenge
I'm trying to make it through the week wtihout doing any grocery shopping. There is plenty of food in my fridge, but I still feel like I need to go to the store. Why? Well, mostly, I'm out of milk.
Living this week without milk ruins two things for me. 1) It's really hard to have a quick breakfast when I can't just toss some cereal in a bowl. 2) What am I supposed to do with my coffee when I have given up creamer?
Well, this morning I had my coffee with almond syrup and no creamer or milk. It was okay. I am missing dairy in my coffee for sure, but I will live without milk. I can do this, though I did almost reach for the Bailey's this morning, but I refrained. Starting my day with alcohol is most assuredly a bad idea.
My solution to the woes of breakfast? This morning I had sourdough toast with butter and honey. It was grand. Tonight I am baking up some scones as another quick breakfast because I do usually rotate between toast and an egg and cereal. I don't want to eat toast every day.
Of course, I didn't have the wheat flour necessary for the scone recipe, so more creativity was called for. I stuck some oatmeal and some walnuts in the food processor for a wheat flour replacement. We'll see how that goes.
Dinner tonight was random vegetables with an asian sauce (random stuff with a fish sauce base) over leftover rice. It was okay. I made use of some frozen peas I bought in order to make a tuna casserole for Chris. If you know me well, you know that I think peas are for throwing, not for eating. I survived.
Wish me luck with this food efficiency adventure! At least I am not out of grapefruit juice. That would not stand. I would die.
Living this week without milk ruins two things for me. 1) It's really hard to have a quick breakfast when I can't just toss some cereal in a bowl. 2) What am I supposed to do with my coffee when I have given up creamer?
Well, this morning I had my coffee with almond syrup and no creamer or milk. It was okay. I am missing dairy in my coffee for sure, but I will live without milk. I can do this, though I did almost reach for the Bailey's this morning, but I refrained. Starting my day with alcohol is most assuredly a bad idea.
My solution to the woes of breakfast? This morning I had sourdough toast with butter and honey. It was grand. Tonight I am baking up some scones as another quick breakfast because I do usually rotate between toast and an egg and cereal. I don't want to eat toast every day.
Of course, I didn't have the wheat flour necessary for the scone recipe, so more creativity was called for. I stuck some oatmeal and some walnuts in the food processor for a wheat flour replacement. We'll see how that goes.
Dinner tonight was random vegetables with an asian sauce (random stuff with a fish sauce base) over leftover rice. It was okay. I made use of some frozen peas I bought in order to make a tuna casserole for Chris. If you know me well, you know that I think peas are for throwing, not for eating. I survived.
Wish me luck with this food efficiency adventure! At least I am not out of grapefruit juice. That would not stand. I would die.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Workout Fiend
Okay, so I'm not doing so hot with the writing or the pastry baking, or even the comfort food cooking.
I was also failing at working out.
Yesterday, I turned that around. I ran five miles. It took me far longer than it should have, but I did it. I did not let myself stop until it was done. Today, I did it all over again. I felt like it was harder this time, but I think that's cause my legs were feeling a bit beat up from yesterday already.
It must not have been as bad as it felt though because a guy came up to me and said, "how are you so happy working out?"
My response, "Huh?"
"You are smiling like crazy."
"Must be the music," I shrugged, but that isn't true. I was barely registering what was on my iPod, and I know it wasn't the stupid celebrity gossip news the Y had on, which I was reading through closed-captioning.
I couldn't explain it. Perhaps I was grimacing and it just looked like smiling? Thank my genetically good smile (no braces necessary). Regardless, it does feel really good to meet this goal. If I keep running 5 miles a day, a 5k run should be easy, and I have had the goal to run one sometime soon.
I would like to dedicate this blog and some of my motivation to my friends Diedre, Maggie, and Anna. They are killing the 5k runs lately, and they would totally kick my butt at running. They are kind of my workout heroes because all three are pretty badass.
I was also failing at working out.
Yesterday, I turned that around. I ran five miles. It took me far longer than it should have, but I did it. I did not let myself stop until it was done. Today, I did it all over again. I felt like it was harder this time, but I think that's cause my legs were feeling a bit beat up from yesterday already.
It must not have been as bad as it felt though because a guy came up to me and said, "how are you so happy working out?"
My response, "Huh?"
"You are smiling like crazy."
"Must be the music," I shrugged, but that isn't true. I was barely registering what was on my iPod, and I know it wasn't the stupid celebrity gossip news the Y had on, which I was reading through closed-captioning.
I couldn't explain it. Perhaps I was grimacing and it just looked like smiling? Thank my genetically good smile (no braces necessary). Regardless, it does feel really good to meet this goal. If I keep running 5 miles a day, a 5k run should be easy, and I have had the goal to run one sometime soon.
I would like to dedicate this blog and some of my motivation to my friends Diedre, Maggie, and Anna. They are killing the 5k runs lately, and they would totally kick my butt at running. They are kind of my workout heroes because all three are pretty badass.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Domestic Adventure in Wichita
Yesterday I was throwing a yarn art party to be enjoyed with wine and a cheese plate. I love cheese. I can handle a cheese plate (except maybe the choosing crackers part), but I don't know a thing about wine. So, again, my friend Kelsie acted as guide to Wichita, and she took me around to some pretty fabulous places. (I don't think I ever posted about the amazing goodies at Juarez Bakery, but everyone should go there.)
First she took me to a great little wine shop in old town. I don't really like wine, so the fact that the vibe in this place wasn't remotely pretentious was perfect. It was a cozy, earthy sort of wine shop with really helpful people (well, person, but Kelsie says the others are great too). Just the sort of place an ignorant wine purchaser like me should go. Unfortunately, the beer selection was kind of lame, so even though it's the closest alcohol selling store to where I live, I will still have to drive a little bit to buy beer I like.
Next stop on our adventure was The Spice Merchant where Kelsie has been telling me to buy coffee, and I have been too lazy to go. (Laziness is my excuse for everything). It has some great little knick-knacks and cooking gadgets, preserves, spices (of course), and the most important part--coffee. I smelled a ton of coffee beans roasted right there, and I fell in love with a rich, earthy, and sort of sweet smelling Organic Columbian. I generally lean towards Columbian coffee beans, so this isn't much of a surprise. It was a medium roast coffee. I think I have discovered I don't like dark roasts because I find I can taste a sort of acrid flavor in dark roasts. It took me a long time to figure this out. Instead, I like a good medium roast brewed dark.
Oh, and don't let me forget the most exciting part! The Spice Merchant has vanilla beans for $1.25 a bean. It's over $5 a bean when you get them from the grocery store. I am ecstatic, and there will be homemade ice cream this summer. I also got some almond syrup because I have decided to quit coffee creamer. I want to live a life of caffe au lait drinking. This morning, I frothed milk in a saucepan using a whisk (it turned out acceptably frothy, but I still need a frother), and I put it in my coffee with the syrup. It was nice, but I need to work on my ratios.
Then our adventure took us to Heritage Hut, where we picked up some crochet hooks and some yarn for Kelsie. It was a small store, so it didn't have a huge yarn selection, but they had really, really nice yarns. Although, I think sometime soon I will hop over to Twist to see what they have. I need to buy some knitting needles because Lindsey (the only guest who showed up to the party besides Kelsie and I) showed me how to knit, but I am currently using chop sticks, and the ends are not pointy enough.
Our adventure took a turn for the mundane after that. We bought cheese, fruit, and crackers at a regular old Dillon's grocery store. Grocery store camembert might as well be brie. It doesn't smell attrocious at all, and that's just wrong. I need to find a decent place to buy a good foot-smelling camembert. Finally, we wrapped up our adventure by stopping by a Big Lots to get 12 wine glasses for $10 because I didn't have any. Not too shabby. They are very rounded, which was kind of amusing.
Because of tornado warnings, we spent part of the yarn art party in the stairwell in the basement of my apartment complex with lots of my neighbors, yet I think the yarn art party was a success. Most of the guests didn't come, but Lindsey was a delightful find, so she made all Kelsie and my efforts worth it. Social win.
First she took me to a great little wine shop in old town. I don't really like wine, so the fact that the vibe in this place wasn't remotely pretentious was perfect. It was a cozy, earthy sort of wine shop with really helpful people (well, person, but Kelsie says the others are great too). Just the sort of place an ignorant wine purchaser like me should go. Unfortunately, the beer selection was kind of lame, so even though it's the closest alcohol selling store to where I live, I will still have to drive a little bit to buy beer I like.
Next stop on our adventure was The Spice Merchant where Kelsie has been telling me to buy coffee, and I have been too lazy to go. (Laziness is my excuse for everything). It has some great little knick-knacks and cooking gadgets, preserves, spices (of course), and the most important part--coffee. I smelled a ton of coffee beans roasted right there, and I fell in love with a rich, earthy, and sort of sweet smelling Organic Columbian. I generally lean towards Columbian coffee beans, so this isn't much of a surprise. It was a medium roast coffee. I think I have discovered I don't like dark roasts because I find I can taste a sort of acrid flavor in dark roasts. It took me a long time to figure this out. Instead, I like a good medium roast brewed dark.
Oh, and don't let me forget the most exciting part! The Spice Merchant has vanilla beans for $1.25 a bean. It's over $5 a bean when you get them from the grocery store. I am ecstatic, and there will be homemade ice cream this summer. I also got some almond syrup because I have decided to quit coffee creamer. I want to live a life of caffe au lait drinking. This morning, I frothed milk in a saucepan using a whisk (it turned out acceptably frothy, but I still need a frother), and I put it in my coffee with the syrup. It was nice, but I need to work on my ratios.
Then our adventure took us to Heritage Hut, where we picked up some crochet hooks and some yarn for Kelsie. It was a small store, so it didn't have a huge yarn selection, but they had really, really nice yarns. Although, I think sometime soon I will hop over to Twist to see what they have. I need to buy some knitting needles because Lindsey (the only guest who showed up to the party besides Kelsie and I) showed me how to knit, but I am currently using chop sticks, and the ends are not pointy enough.
Our adventure took a turn for the mundane after that. We bought cheese, fruit, and crackers at a regular old Dillon's grocery store. Grocery store camembert might as well be brie. It doesn't smell attrocious at all, and that's just wrong. I need to find a decent place to buy a good foot-smelling camembert. Finally, we wrapped up our adventure by stopping by a Big Lots to get 12 wine glasses for $10 because I didn't have any. Not too shabby. They are very rounded, which was kind of amusing.
Because of tornado warnings, we spent part of the yarn art party in the stairwell in the basement of my apartment complex with lots of my neighbors, yet I think the yarn art party was a success. Most of the guests didn't come, but Lindsey was a delightful find, so she made all Kelsie and my efforts worth it. Social win.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
The Gift(s): Part 2
[below is the continuation of a story begun on a friend's blog. If you'd like to pick up where I left off, post a comment with a link to your blog continuation of the story.]
"I dunno. What if he remembers?" She looked down at her hands.
"He won't."
She shrugged, "Well, I can't just let them go. Not without making sense of them."
He tilted his head forward and peered at her over the top of his glasses—a judging look. "Uh, yeah, that seems to be going so well."
An awkward silence drained away a few seconds, feeling like minutes.
Then her eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Actually, I think I have one figured out."
She pulled out the drawer of boxes, rapidly opening and closing the tiny boxes as she searched for the one she wanted. When she'd found it, she thrust the open box up under his nose. He stepped back so that he could actually see what was inside.
"A purple plastic dinosaur?"
"Yep." She smiled.
"So?"
"There was this time we went on a daylong road trip to see all the cheesy museums in a thirty mile radius. There was one filled with old sewing machines and another with moldy looking miners' clothes and pieces of fool's gold. It sounds boring, but we'd pop into a museum for twenty or thirty minutes—just long enough to take it in—then we would get back into the car and imagine what the people who owned the artifacts would think of their belongings rotting in a hokey small-town museum only visited by people passing through who needed to stretch their legs on the way to somewhere better. It was a great time."
Her eyes were unfocused, and she was smiling as she reminisced. He waved his hand in front of her face to bring her back to the present.
"And the dinosaur? Did you visit a museum of old dinosaur toys abandoned by children for generations?"
She punched him in the arm affectionately. "No. One of the gas stations was an old Sinclair station with a big cement dinosaur out front, but instead of being green, theirs was painted purple. I probably would have forgotten about it except when we got back in the car he pretended he was the dinosaur and lamented being stuck in the middle of nowhere painted an unnatural color. It was only a couple of seconds of insignificant joking."
"Maybe it wasn't so insignificant. Do you think he knew why it reminded him of you when he bought it? Or do you think he had no idea and bought it anyway?"
"I dunno. What if he remembers?" She looked down at her hands.
"He won't."
She shrugged, "Well, I can't just let them go. Not without making sense of them."
He tilted his head forward and peered at her over the top of his glasses—a judging look. "Uh, yeah, that seems to be going so well."
An awkward silence drained away a few seconds, feeling like minutes.
Then her eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Actually, I think I have one figured out."
She pulled out the drawer of boxes, rapidly opening and closing the tiny boxes as she searched for the one she wanted. When she'd found it, she thrust the open box up under his nose. He stepped back so that he could actually see what was inside.
"A purple plastic dinosaur?"
"Yep." She smiled.
"So?"
"There was this time we went on a daylong road trip to see all the cheesy museums in a thirty mile radius. There was one filled with old sewing machines and another with moldy looking miners' clothes and pieces of fool's gold. It sounds boring, but we'd pop into a museum for twenty or thirty minutes—just long enough to take it in—then we would get back into the car and imagine what the people who owned the artifacts would think of their belongings rotting in a hokey small-town museum only visited by people passing through who needed to stretch their legs on the way to somewhere better. It was a great time."
Her eyes were unfocused, and she was smiling as she reminisced. He waved his hand in front of her face to bring her back to the present.
"And the dinosaur? Did you visit a museum of old dinosaur toys abandoned by children for generations?"
She punched him in the arm affectionately. "No. One of the gas stations was an old Sinclair station with a big cement dinosaur out front, but instead of being green, theirs was painted purple. I probably would have forgotten about it except when we got back in the car he pretended he was the dinosaur and lamented being stuck in the middle of nowhere painted an unnatural color. It was only a couple of seconds of insignificant joking."
"Maybe it wasn't so insignificant. Do you think he knew why it reminded him of you when he bought it? Or do you think he had no idea and bought it anyway?"
Hobby Adventure!!!
I like to define myself by my hobbies rather than what I do for a living (because what I do for a living isn't that interesting or meaningful to the world), but I think my hobbies are a bit too broad in scope.
I crochet. Well that's nice. What do I crochet? Originally, only rectangular things and only one stitch. This meant lots of scarfs and blankets. I branched out to hats using a cheater method called the "nifty knitter." This past summer/fall I learned a new stitch and began making hats on my own, and not just any hats but animals hats. Of course, animal hats aren't really that high in demand unless you know a lot of little kids. No, what I want to do now is protest crochet following in the spirit of these awesome protest knitters.
Also, I used to be primarily a baker, then I branched out into cooking, and I have lost the touch with some of my baking. It's time to reclaim the world of baking and perhaps emphasize savory things because I don't like sweets that much. Though my first desire is to bake something like what I ate for breakfast, which was sweet. It came from a local mexican bakery and looked like one of those McDonald's apple pie pastries in shape and had the same little breather gaps. However, it wasn't hard and crusty like the tiny apple pies. It was just about the flakiest pastry I have eaten and had a cream cheese filling. Taste-wise, it was like a cheese danish, but less sticky and more flakey. Absolutely amazing. I want to make those first.
Then I will focus more on useful pastries--things I can take for lunch. Little quiches, pot pies, a homemade hot pocket things, stromboli, etc. I better start getting better about stopping by the Y after work.
I crochet. Well that's nice. What do I crochet? Originally, only rectangular things and only one stitch. This meant lots of scarfs and blankets. I branched out to hats using a cheater method called the "nifty knitter." This past summer/fall I learned a new stitch and began making hats on my own, and not just any hats but animals hats. Of course, animal hats aren't really that high in demand unless you know a lot of little kids. No, what I want to do now is protest crochet following in the spirit of these awesome protest knitters.
Also, I used to be primarily a baker, then I branched out into cooking, and I have lost the touch with some of my baking. It's time to reclaim the world of baking and perhaps emphasize savory things because I don't like sweets that much. Though my first desire is to bake something like what I ate for breakfast, which was sweet. It came from a local mexican bakery and looked like one of those McDonald's apple pie pastries in shape and had the same little breather gaps. However, it wasn't hard and crusty like the tiny apple pies. It was just about the flakiest pastry I have eaten and had a cream cheese filling. Taste-wise, it was like a cheese danish, but less sticky and more flakey. Absolutely amazing. I want to make those first.
Then I will focus more on useful pastries--things I can take for lunch. Little quiches, pot pies, a homemade hot pocket things, stromboli, etc. I better start getting better about stopping by the Y after work.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
I Have to Relearn to Write
So I'd figured the crappiness of my blog was the result of word-vomitting non-narrative subject matter. I've been telling myself this, but I think I have truly lost my inner creative writer. My writing is full of to-the-point literalness. When I sit down to write a story, I find myself telling and not showing. Tech writing has taken over my thought processes. I can write no more. I may have been this way for years now. Have I been in denial?
A couple weeks ago, I was working on my novel--the first time in a long time. I thought I was cutting the excess, but now I'm not so sure. My attempts at short fiction of late have been worse than bad. I should market them as a full-proof cure for insomnia. There is no poetry in my writing. Not the tiniest little bit. It's all just flat. This is untenable. If I can't write, I'm not sure who I am.
If you know me, you know I struggle with acne. It embarrasses me to the point that I absentmindedly scratch at it at work as if I can peel it off my face. I make it oh-so-much worse. Do you know that I find the idea of being a bad writer more loathsome than returning to the days of so much acne it hurt to move my face? Because I do. I would rather put on extra pounds, and have a pizza face, and have my hair as thin and stringy as it was when I was a toe-headed tween.
I think this is the final straw. This is the thing what will motivate me to cancel my internet and return to the ways of my youth. I will read non-stop. I will imagine. I will draw. I will create. I need a new water color set.
My friend Kelsie has kindly offered to help me develop my poetic talents. Her writing has pizzazz. I trust she can build me up without crushing my spirit. I think it may actually be time to enroll in a creative writing class at the arts center too. I need forced writing.
Okay self-lameness, I'm throwing a punch. I hope you can take it.
A couple weeks ago, I was working on my novel--the first time in a long time. I thought I was cutting the excess, but now I'm not so sure. My attempts at short fiction of late have been worse than bad. I should market them as a full-proof cure for insomnia. There is no poetry in my writing. Not the tiniest little bit. It's all just flat. This is untenable. If I can't write, I'm not sure who I am.
If you know me, you know I struggle with acne. It embarrasses me to the point that I absentmindedly scratch at it at work as if I can peel it off my face. I make it oh-so-much worse. Do you know that I find the idea of being a bad writer more loathsome than returning to the days of so much acne it hurt to move my face? Because I do. I would rather put on extra pounds, and have a pizza face, and have my hair as thin and stringy as it was when I was a toe-headed tween.
I think this is the final straw. This is the thing what will motivate me to cancel my internet and return to the ways of my youth. I will read non-stop. I will imagine. I will draw. I will create. I need a new water color set.
My friend Kelsie has kindly offered to help me develop my poetic talents. Her writing has pizzazz. I trust she can build me up without crushing my spirit. I think it may actually be time to enroll in a creative writing class at the arts center too. I need forced writing.
Okay self-lameness, I'm throwing a punch. I hope you can take it.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Back to the Goals
Okay, so I have my crazy New Year's resolution to simplify the material elements of my life. Here are some of the rules I try to follow, numbered arbitrarily in no particular order.
Rule Number 1: No shopping for clothing. I'm amending this because last month I broke the zipper on my favorite jeans and needed new jeans. Sometimes, a person needs new clothes. Of course when I went out, I bought jeans, and then I splurged on other things too (quite a few other things, not all clothing). So to handle both the occassional necessity for new clothes and the desire to purchase things that I see, I'm instigating new rules. I should only buy clothes written on a list before I leave the house (I can't follow my own grocery lists, so we'll see how this goes). I must not buy anything that I can't justify as fitting into the wardrobe persona that I have recentely established. I must not buy anything that doesn't contribute something to the wardrobe.
By contribute I mean that it must accomplish a desired function currently not captured in my wardrobe. The persona thing should prevent purchases like the trendy sweater dress craze I went on that just wasn't me. The contribution thing should prevent repetiton of existing things that work. In other words, for the purposes of my clothing, if one green shirt equals good, and I tell myself two green shirts is better, I will remind myself of the contribution factor and realize my two green shirts thinking is bad math. I don't need more clothes than I can wear in a week, maybe two, and I should demonstrate some diversity in that small period of time.
Rule Number 2: Read two books a month and only books I own or get from the library. I'm also supposed to get rid of books as I finish them. This I'm doing okay at. I have 4 books in one of my donate boxes, and I haven't purchased a single book all year (except the Comfort Food cookbook, but that's different). Hopefully I can keep up this trend.
Rule Number 3: I must box up 1 box of stuff to donate every month. The problem with my adherence to rule #3 is that January's box has never moved from behind the couch. February's box doesn't exist, though I did shift some clothing in the closet to contemplate donation. March is almost over and has no box. I'm slacking, so I got out another box this morning. I have filled it with some excess bedding and with clothing I had shifted in the closet. If I fill three boxes today, I think I will be good on the donation stuff for the year because I'm running out of stuff--the kitchen is off limits. Next step in decluttering by box is to recycle old electronics...I have a stupid hoard of dead cameras, old cell phones, and archaic computer cords.
So there they are--my decluttering goals, my mostly failures. I will be better. I will finish boxing things today, and I will actually take this stuff somewhere. Did I mention that all the boxes from my move are still neatly stacked by the entertainment center? I'm not sure if they're there because I am too lazy to find a place to recycle them or if I can't commit to staying in this place yet. I have been tempted to use my closet-cleaning donation process to make room for the moving boxes in there.
Rule Number 1: No shopping for clothing. I'm amending this because last month I broke the zipper on my favorite jeans and needed new jeans. Sometimes, a person needs new clothes. Of course when I went out, I bought jeans, and then I splurged on other things too (quite a few other things, not all clothing). So to handle both the occassional necessity for new clothes and the desire to purchase things that I see, I'm instigating new rules. I should only buy clothes written on a list before I leave the house (I can't follow my own grocery lists, so we'll see how this goes). I must not buy anything that I can't justify as fitting into the wardrobe persona that I have recentely established. I must not buy anything that doesn't contribute something to the wardrobe.
By contribute I mean that it must accomplish a desired function currently not captured in my wardrobe. The persona thing should prevent purchases like the trendy sweater dress craze I went on that just wasn't me. The contribution thing should prevent repetiton of existing things that work. In other words, for the purposes of my clothing, if one green shirt equals good, and I tell myself two green shirts is better, I will remind myself of the contribution factor and realize my two green shirts thinking is bad math. I don't need more clothes than I can wear in a week, maybe two, and I should demonstrate some diversity in that small period of time.
Rule Number 2: Read two books a month and only books I own or get from the library. I'm also supposed to get rid of books as I finish them. This I'm doing okay at. I have 4 books in one of my donate boxes, and I haven't purchased a single book all year (except the Comfort Food cookbook, but that's different). Hopefully I can keep up this trend.
Rule Number 3: I must box up 1 box of stuff to donate every month. The problem with my adherence to rule #3 is that January's box has never moved from behind the couch. February's box doesn't exist, though I did shift some clothing in the closet to contemplate donation. March is almost over and has no box. I'm slacking, so I got out another box this morning. I have filled it with some excess bedding and with clothing I had shifted in the closet. If I fill three boxes today, I think I will be good on the donation stuff for the year because I'm running out of stuff--the kitchen is off limits. Next step in decluttering by box is to recycle old electronics...I have a stupid hoard of dead cameras, old cell phones, and archaic computer cords.
So there they are--my decluttering goals, my mostly failures. I will be better. I will finish boxing things today, and I will actually take this stuff somewhere. Did I mention that all the boxes from my move are still neatly stacked by the entertainment center? I'm not sure if they're there because I am too lazy to find a place to recycle them or if I can't commit to staying in this place yet. I have been tempted to use my closet-cleaning donation process to make room for the moving boxes in there.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Butternut Squash and Turkey Casserole
Okay, so this turned out pretty good.
First thing's first, my methods do not necessarily follow the healthy tips recommended by Cooking Light. I am of the mind that I would rather use oil than cooking spray because cooking spray is weird and chemical, bla, bla, bla. I care more about reading the ingredients in what I purchase than the nutrition facts. I don't like my food to be overly processed or full of weird chemicals. I want to eat food, not lab experiments. My recipe most assuredly has more calories than theirs. If you'd like to try theirs, buy the cookbook--it's a great cookbook.
So here's what I did.
Prepared Butternut Squash:
Heated the oven to 425 and began cubing my butternut squash. When the squash was all in 1-inch cubes, I tossed it in a bowl of with the olive oil, 1/4 tsp salt, the black pepper, and rosemary. Then I dumped it on a cookie sheet and threw it in the oven. It needs about 30-40 minutes. When it's done, increase the oven temp to 450.
Cooked the Pasta:
I started the boiling some water for my pasta, and then I did some of the prep work below for the turkey and shallots. Then I threw in the pasta to cook it, and continued with the turkey mix. When the pasta was soft, I drained out the water, rinsed it with some cold water, and left it waiting in the sink while I finished up the turkey and began the cheese sauce.
Prepared Turkey and Shallot
Diced up the shallot and tossed it in the bowl I had previously used to toss the squash (less dishes). Set out a large skillet and began heating it on medium. Then I threw cayenne pepper, cinnamon, and cumin into my bowl with the shallot. After that I dumped in the ground turkey and mixed it all up with my hands. I completed this process by browning the whole mix in my skillet.
Prepared the Cheese Sauce:
Last but not least, I set aside my shredded provolone and parmesan so they would be ready. Then I put a large sauce pan (actually my pressure cooker) on the stove on medium heat. I put the flour and 1/2 tsp salt in. Then I began pouring the milk in about a 1/2 cup at a time, whisking constantly. I let it come to a boil and cooked it until it thickened just a bit (about a minute). At that point, I removed it from the heat and dumped in the provolone cheese, stirring it until the cheese melted.
Put It All Together:
Then in went the pasta and the turkey with the cheese sauce, and I mixed it all up. This all was dumbed and spread out in my 9 x 13 inch glassware pan. I spread out the now ready butternut squash over the top of it. Last, but not least, I sprinkled the parmesan over the top and popped that sucker into the oven for 10 minutes, just to melt the cheese.
Overall, it tastes pretty good, but I think I will add some crushed tomato to the turkey mix next time. It's not vegetabley enough for me. I might also make some extra provolone cheese sauce to drizzle over the top before baking. I added pasta and more meat to this recipe already, so if I add tomatoes too, I'm gonna need more gooey cheese.
| Ingredients: | |
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First thing's first, my methods do not necessarily follow the healthy tips recommended by Cooking Light. I am of the mind that I would rather use oil than cooking spray because cooking spray is weird and chemical, bla, bla, bla. I care more about reading the ingredients in what I purchase than the nutrition facts. I don't like my food to be overly processed or full of weird chemicals. I want to eat food, not lab experiments. My recipe most assuredly has more calories than theirs. If you'd like to try theirs, buy the cookbook--it's a great cookbook.
So here's what I did.
Prepared Butternut Squash:
Heated the oven to 425 and began cubing my butternut squash. When the squash was all in 1-inch cubes, I tossed it in a bowl of with the olive oil, 1/4 tsp salt, the black pepper, and rosemary. Then I dumped it on a cookie sheet and threw it in the oven. It needs about 30-40 minutes. When it's done, increase the oven temp to 450.
Cooked the Pasta:
I started the boiling some water for my pasta, and then I did some of the prep work below for the turkey and shallots. Then I threw in the pasta to cook it, and continued with the turkey mix. When the pasta was soft, I drained out the water, rinsed it with some cold water, and left it waiting in the sink while I finished up the turkey and began the cheese sauce.
Prepared Turkey and Shallot
Diced up the shallot and tossed it in the bowl I had previously used to toss the squash (less dishes). Set out a large skillet and began heating it on medium. Then I threw cayenne pepper, cinnamon, and cumin into my bowl with the shallot. After that I dumped in the ground turkey and mixed it all up with my hands. I completed this process by browning the whole mix in my skillet.
Prepared the Cheese Sauce:
Last but not least, I set aside my shredded provolone and parmesan so they would be ready. Then I put a large sauce pan (actually my pressure cooker) on the stove on medium heat. I put the flour and 1/2 tsp salt in. Then I began pouring the milk in about a 1/2 cup at a time, whisking constantly. I let it come to a boil and cooked it until it thickened just a bit (about a minute). At that point, I removed it from the heat and dumped in the provolone cheese, stirring it until the cheese melted.
Put It All Together:
Then in went the pasta and the turkey with the cheese sauce, and I mixed it all up. This all was dumbed and spread out in my 9 x 13 inch glassware pan. I spread out the now ready butternut squash over the top of it. Last, but not least, I sprinkled the parmesan over the top and popped that sucker into the oven for 10 minutes, just to melt the cheese.
Overall, it tastes pretty good, but I think I will add some crushed tomato to the turkey mix next time. It's not vegetabley enough for me. I might also make some extra provolone cheese sauce to drizzle over the top before baking. I added pasta and more meat to this recipe already, so if I add tomatoes too, I'm gonna need more gooey cheese.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Comfort Food Adventure
I need to post more about cooking adventures. I also need to have more cooking adeventures.
Just a recommendation if you like spicy tomatoey things: Dak Bokkeum with Spinach (Korean Stewed Chicken with Spinach). Made this with a friend a couple weeks ago. It was amazing. I think the fire did some serious damage to the lining of my stomach, but it was well worth it.
New exciting goal for cooking adventures will be brought to you by Cooking Light Comfort Food: Home-Cooked Delicious Classics Made Light. I was pretty happy just perusing it, and what's nice is a lot of these things are pretty affordable to make. I've decided that I want to work my way through the casseroles first because casseroles usually freeze well and make handy leftovers for lunches.
This week I will be trying the "Roasted Butternut Squash and Bacon Pasta," except I have absolutely no intention of really following the directions at all. I like bacon, but I wasn't too keen on this mix, so I decided this butternut squash and pasta casserole concept should be melded with one of my favorite middle eastern inspired dishes, which mixes butternut squash with ground lamb. Yum!
What will the end product look like?
Well, they didn't have any ground lamb at the grocery store. Genius that I am, I forgot that St. Patrick's Day meant a ton of people making shepherd's pie, so my casserole will use ground turkey, which I will season with cumin, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper, as inspired by the Epicurious dish. I also went for a whole wheat penne as used by the Epicurious dish.
From Cooking Light, I will be using the casserole concept, the butternut squash prep, the cheese choices of parmesan and provolone instead of kasseri, and there will be shallots.
I will probably add more details of what I did and how this turns out when I actually make the dish. Tomorrow, I think. Same post, not a new one. I'm a cheater like that.
(I lied. Detailed instructions are povided in the next post.)
Just a recommendation if you like spicy tomatoey things: Dak Bokkeum with Spinach (Korean Stewed Chicken with Spinach). Made this with a friend a couple weeks ago. It was amazing. I think the fire did some serious damage to the lining of my stomach, but it was well worth it.
New exciting goal for cooking adventures will be brought to you by Cooking Light Comfort Food: Home-Cooked Delicious Classics Made Light. I was pretty happy just perusing it, and what's nice is a lot of these things are pretty affordable to make. I've decided that I want to work my way through the casseroles first because casseroles usually freeze well and make handy leftovers for lunches.
This week I will be trying the "Roasted Butternut Squash and Bacon Pasta," except I have absolutely no intention of really following the directions at all. I like bacon, but I wasn't too keen on this mix, so I decided this butternut squash and pasta casserole concept should be melded with one of my favorite middle eastern inspired dishes, which mixes butternut squash with ground lamb. Yum!
What will the end product look like?
Well, they didn't have any ground lamb at the grocery store. Genius that I am, I forgot that St. Patrick's Day meant a ton of people making shepherd's pie, so my casserole will use ground turkey, which I will season with cumin, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper, as inspired by the Epicurious dish. I also went for a whole wheat penne as used by the Epicurious dish.
From Cooking Light, I will be using the casserole concept, the butternut squash prep, the cheese choices of parmesan and provolone instead of kasseri, and there will be shallots.
I will probably add more details of what I did and how this turns out when I actually make the dish. Tomorrow, I think. Same post, not a new one. I'm a cheater like that.
(I lied. Detailed instructions are povided in the next post.)
Monday, March 5, 2012
Under Construction
The stripes weren't doing it for me, and the previous viney stuff wasn't doing it for me either. The current stuff is okay, if not coordinated super well. It will have to do for now because it is bed time.
At some point, when I feel like it, I will return to blogging, and I will do up some graphics for a blog overhaul. I'm thinking something super nerdy and whimsical. You will just have to wait and see.
Also, Warehouse 13 consumes my life. I don't imagine blogging will return until I have completed my Warehouse 13 watching adventure, which I wish would go on forever. Alas, I only have 8 more episodes. Tis tragic.
At some point, when I feel like it, I will return to blogging, and I will do up some graphics for a blog overhaul. I'm thinking something super nerdy and whimsical. You will just have to wait and see.
Also, Warehouse 13 consumes my life. I don't imagine blogging will return until I have completed my Warehouse 13 watching adventure, which I wish would go on forever. Alas, I only have 8 more episodes. Tis tragic.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
New Life Goal - Master Upholstery
I really, really want to become an accomplished upholsterer. This isn't just a crackpot dream of mine.
I would like to be able to recover the chair in my living room with fabric I actually like instead of using an orange sheet stuck all over the bottom with dangerous pins.
I would like to be able to respond to the cat-astrophe that willl someday be my couch because Tonks really isn't half as fond of her scratching posts as she is the corners of the couch.
I would like to just do this as a hobby. I'm sitting in front of a pretty, shapely table at the moment, but it has some discoloration on the surface, and all I can think is "I could fix that."
Yep. I need to find a class on upholstering. Then I need to wait until my lease runs out, move into an affordable little house that is not downtown but that has a garage, and set up a little hobby shop for refinishing and reupholstering furniture.
Is it odd that I think that would be fun? I think I miss doing things with my hands. All I ever use is my mind, and it's getting a bit tired.
Sometimes I even imagine that I quit my job, open a bakery coffee shop that specializes in savory scones, and sell refurbished furniture from a side room. Of course, one has to have money for such dreams. And, let's be real, if I was running a bakery coffee shop, when would I ever have time to refinish and reupholster furniture?
Also, these are all things I enjoy that I think I might not enjoy so much if they became work. They are best as hobbies/pieces of a daydream.
I would like to be able to recover the chair in my living room with fabric I actually like instead of using an orange sheet stuck all over the bottom with dangerous pins.
I would like to be able to respond to the cat-astrophe that willl someday be my couch because Tonks really isn't half as fond of her scratching posts as she is the corners of the couch.
I would like to just do this as a hobby. I'm sitting in front of a pretty, shapely table at the moment, but it has some discoloration on the surface, and all I can think is "I could fix that."
Yep. I need to find a class on upholstering. Then I need to wait until my lease runs out, move into an affordable little house that is not downtown but that has a garage, and set up a little hobby shop for refinishing and reupholstering furniture.
Is it odd that I think that would be fun? I think I miss doing things with my hands. All I ever use is my mind, and it's getting a bit tired.
Sometimes I even imagine that I quit my job, open a bakery coffee shop that specializes in savory scones, and sell refurbished furniture from a side room. Of course, one has to have money for such dreams. And, let's be real, if I was running a bakery coffee shop, when would I ever have time to refinish and reupholster furniture?
Also, these are all things I enjoy that I think I might not enjoy so much if they became work. They are best as hobbies/pieces of a daydream.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Drop the I-Word
Amazing friends on facebook were sharing this, and I had to continue that sharing.
This video and the message being spread is an important human rights issue. One largely ignored in this country. The war on immigration is a war on humanity because it seeks to deny individuals a right to work and live based on their country of origin, which is ridiculus.
So many in this country want to see others off of wellfare, working for their incomes--bla, bla bla. Yet we have a double standard when people want to come here to work to support their families. Ironic when we consider how much financial aid we send to other countries without expecting a thing in return.
Why exactly do we prejudice some groups for the difficulties in their lives an not others? No answer? I didn't think so. It's called descrimination. It's based on arbitrary differences. And if you think the birthplace of an individual means they do not have certain rights, you're descriminating.
...I guess I better stop making fun of Lindsey for being a Southernor. ;)
See more on dropping the i-word.
This video and the message being spread is an important human rights issue. One largely ignored in this country. The war on immigration is a war on humanity because it seeks to deny individuals a right to work and live based on their country of origin, which is ridiculus.
So many in this country want to see others off of wellfare, working for their incomes--bla, bla bla. Yet we have a double standard when people want to come here to work to support their families. Ironic when we consider how much financial aid we send to other countries without expecting a thing in return.
Why exactly do we prejudice some groups for the difficulties in their lives an not others? No answer? I didn't think so. It's called descrimination. It's based on arbitrary differences. And if you think the birthplace of an individual means they do not have certain rights, you're descriminating.
...I guess I better stop making fun of Lindsey for being a Southernor. ;)
See more on dropping the i-word.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wardrobe Reassessment
I have a lot of clothes I don't wear. I like these clothes I don't wear, but I don't feel myself in them, so they need to go because they rarely come out of the closet. I'm cleaning my closet out, mostly of recently purchased sweater dresses, and they are all going to beautiful people who will love them.
I will stick to blue jeans, sneakers, cardigans, and t-shirts, preferably in stripes. I'd like more cardigans, so I've been looking at shopruche.com (thanks to Brig), but I really shouldn't spend money, so I will probably refrain. I can live with what I have.
I might, however, have to buy some jeans. I broke the zipper on my favorite dark wash jeans today. I'm not sure how it happened, but suddenly I realized, "my pants are not zipped!" Then I realized I could not fix that problem. It's a good thing I wear long shirts. :)
Wardrobe purchases from here on out have to fit the clothing persona I have recently discovered that makes me feel uber confident. Here's a sketch of the me I believe I have established and that I love. I really do have an outfit like this, and it's perfect.
I will stick to blue jeans, sneakers, cardigans, and t-shirts, preferably in stripes. I'd like more cardigans, so I've been looking at shopruche.com (thanks to Brig), but I really shouldn't spend money, so I will probably refrain. I can live with what I have.
I might, however, have to buy some jeans. I broke the zipper on my favorite dark wash jeans today. I'm not sure how it happened, but suddenly I realized, "my pants are not zipped!" Then I realized I could not fix that problem. It's a good thing I wear long shirts. :)
Wardrobe purchases from here on out have to fit the clothing persona I have recently discovered that makes me feel uber confident. Here's a sketch of the me I believe I have established and that I love. I really do have an outfit like this, and it's perfect.
It has been far too long since my last paint graphic. I should make them more often.
So there you have it--sneakers, cardigans, blue jeans, headbands, curly hair, and patterned shirts. I lurv it.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Retraction of My Rant
Thanks to NPR, I am now neutral on the insurance contraception thing. My rant was misinformed. Of course, I think that's how things often end up heated battles--misinformation. Since the difference is simply charging a copay or not, I don't know that this legislation significantly changes anything at all. It's null and void.
If you want to understand my change of heart, I recommend reading this: Rules Requiring Contraceptive Have Been in Place for Years.
They say it much better than I could.
If you want to understand my change of heart, I recommend reading this: Rules Requiring Contraceptive Have Been in Place for Years.
They say it much better than I could.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Rant: Birth Control & Insurance
So usually I don't get into this sort of thing in my blog, but I'm just all steamed up about the issue of requiring birth control from religious institutions. If you're rolling your eyes and going, "Oh brother," keep reading. I might actually surprise you with the twist this blog will take.
I used to be a hard-core Catholic. Having been one, I tend to get really bothered when I hear things like "people should stop forcing their religion on others by pushing for anti-abortion laws. Separation of Church and State." Those comments always upset me because those individuals fail to realize that for the anti-abortion crowd, the goal is not to oppress woman (as I have often heard said), the goal is to defend life against murder. Just because you don't believe it's murder, doesn't mean it's acceptable for someone who thinks it is to sit by in silence. It isn't. From their moral perspective, that would be terrible.
Given my stance on that issue, you might think that I would fully support the Catholic Bishops in fighting the legislation that demands that they provide coverage for birth control through their insurance policies. Well, I don't. Not even a little. Here's why:
So in general, I support the requirement for religious institutions to provide coverage of birth control to employees. Those employees have rights. The institutions do not.
I used to be a hard-core Catholic. Having been one, I tend to get really bothered when I hear things like "people should stop forcing their religion on others by pushing for anti-abortion laws. Separation of Church and State." Those comments always upset me because those individuals fail to realize that for the anti-abortion crowd, the goal is not to oppress woman (as I have often heard said), the goal is to defend life against murder. Just because you don't believe it's murder, doesn't mean it's acceptable for someone who thinks it is to sit by in silence. It isn't. From their moral perspective, that would be terrible.
Given my stance on that issue, you might think that I would fully support the Catholic Bishops in fighting the legislation that demands that they provide coverage for birth control through their insurance policies. Well, I don't. Not even a little. Here's why:
- Institutions do not have rights. Our government does not exist to protect or defend institutions (or corporations for that matter). Our government exists to defend people. Individuals. Since this law doesn't force anyone to use birth control against their will, it isn't limiting anyone's access to their own moral religious decision making.
- You can't tell me that individuals who will now get contraception covered by their health insurance would not have gotten access to it in another way before, so I don't think not paying for it is doing anything to prevent the use of contraception. Some might argue that they are opposed to financially supporting birth control on a moral level. I have little pity for them on that since the money is taken out from the institution before it reaches them, so again, no individual is paying for this. The entity is paying, and it is neither moral or immoral. If you're questioning me on this, read St. Francis de Sales Catholic Controversy. He really understands how the Church is composed of indviduals who have their own morality, but who do not dictate the morality of the Church as a whole.
- I bet there are Catholic and other religious institutions out there that already provide birth control through their insurance and have for years simply because it might have been a part of a standard policy and they didn't choose to have it removed. I wonder how many institutions this legislation actually changes anything for.
So in general, I support the requirement for religious institutions to provide coverage of birth control to employees. Those employees have rights. The institutions do not.
Feeling the Downward Pull
For those of you who also suffer from depression, you know that a high can be as rough as a low. With a high comes fear. Fear that good things will slip away. With this fear comes the same dark thoughts that come with a low. Is anything really worth it? Is it time to give up? The scariest thing about these thoughts on a high is that with a high there is no worry that someone will feel to blame. How can they? If everything is so perfect, it's hard for something to look like a cause.
On a more positive note, I've got to get a little drive back into my life for the purpose of coping. My major drive used to be my intense faith and as a secondary element of that, my writing. When I was a religious zealot, I felt like writing was my calling. It was my mode of evangelizing. Since I no longer am a religious zealot, I feel like my passion to write has fizzled out.
That can't be the case though. I wrote constantly long before I was an uber Christian. That portion of myself is hiding somewhere. I need it. I need to cut my Netflix subscription and my internet and force myself to find entertainment in constant reading and writing again. It's time.
On a more positive note, I've got to get a little drive back into my life for the purpose of coping. My major drive used to be my intense faith and as a secondary element of that, my writing. When I was a religious zealot, I felt like writing was my calling. It was my mode of evangelizing. Since I no longer am a religious zealot, I feel like my passion to write has fizzled out.
That can't be the case though. I wrote constantly long before I was an uber Christian. That portion of myself is hiding somewhere. I need it. I need to cut my Netflix subscription and my internet and force myself to find entertainment in constant reading and writing again. It's time.
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