I'm watching the end of Letterman while finishing up some stuff I wanted to send out for work tonight, and I'm not impressed with the latest stand-up comedic offering. The guy wasn't bad, but he didn't hold my interest all the way through his sketch, unfortunately. I think I don't always like stand-up comics because many of them are so loud--and there isn't room in the world for so many people to be loud in addition to me. It's clear that I'm on my way to becoming a crazy, introverted hermit; I think cities are too paved and dirty, I get claustrophobic in crowds, I get tired of dealing with really loud groups, etc., etc. Clearly the only solution is to move to some backwoods cabin in Vermont or North Carolina or something and isolate myself from humanity. How fun would that be?
However, before I do that, I seem intent on significantly impacting the bottom line of Crate and Barrel. I spent half an hour in the parking lot of the nearest Crate and Barrel talking to my mother, which cut into my available shopping time, but I still managed to come away with six wineglasses (amazing that I didn't have wineglasses before, considering that I have every other type of drinking glass available), some awesome soup-bowls that I can bake so that I can try to make the french onion soup the Shedletsky made a couple of weeks ago, and these two leather-covered cubes that double as storage bins and end tables. Great idea--one of them can hold my Dance Dance Revolution pads, so that I look a bit more sophisticated. Yay.
The rest of my day was pretty uneventful. I want to come home earlyish tomorrow so that I can run to the grocery store and make some potato-leek soup; I'm having some of my India expat crew over for dinner on Wednesday so that we can hang out and watch 'Lost' afterwards, and the great thing about soup is that I can make it tomorrow and it will actually be better the next day, leaving less for me to do in the scant amount of time available between when I get home on Wednesday and when my guests will arrive.
Okay, this post is lame. I'm going to bed. Goodnight!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
let him know that you know best...'cause after all you do know best
I really have turned into a Californian--I actually had bean sprouts on my sandwich today, and I *liked* it. Ugh! Even worse, the bread was sourdough, and I allowed them to slather it with mustard and mayo, rather than avoiding mustard like the plague I used to think it was. There were also avocadoes (what else would you expect from a sandwich named 'California Dreamin'?), but I added avocadoes to my diet long ago, so this wasn't such a shock. I'm still not completely Californian--I can't see myself buying bean sprouts to keep at home, so maybe this was just an aberration. But, I need to buy a steak ASAP, or else I may be perilously close to forgetting my roots altogether.
The sandwich was procured at the deli in the complex where my laundromat and favorite cafe are located; I ate half the sandwich when I finally made it out of the apartment for lunch at two p.m., and the other half for dinner several hours later. If no one hears from me for a few days, assume that I succumbed to food poisoning in the night, since I didn't refrigerate the sandwich in the interim--I think I have a rather blase approach to food storage because I figure that if I didn't die after drinking that hideously-dirty iced tea in Mumbai, anything that the American bacteria population can throw at me will be like a walk in the park by comparison. Granted, if I run into any newly-immigrated bacteria, I could be in for some problems; immigrants always work harder and for less reward, so I'm sure a population of bacteria recently arrived on some produce from a third-world country could be my undoing, but I'm hoping for the best.
I successfully washed five loads of clothing, bedding, and towels, and I equally successfully hung or folded all five loads, so I felt v. accomplished by the end of the day. I also remade my bed and cleaned my desk. Doing anything else in the apartment was beyond my current level of domestic ambition, so I did all of the reading for my short-story class and tried to write some more of that short story that I turned in last week. I wrote a couple of pages but thought it was crap, so browsed around Amazon for awhile and ordered a couple of books about Moldova. You may be surprised to know that there are very few books about Moldova in English; I ended up ordering the Lonely Planet for Moldova and Romania because a) it was the best way to get pictures of Moldova and b) I really want to go there sometime in the not-so-distant future. I also got a book of 19th-century British women's clothing designs, so that I can dress up the heroine of my romance novel in all manner of frocks, day gowns, riding habits, negligees, etc. (for those of you who think romance novels are just porn--the women do wear clothing most of the time, and half the fun in reading those books is imagining yourself in all the gorgeous outfits).
In addition to browsing Amazon, I read up on Moldova on Wikipedia. The best part of it was finding this poem that is apparently the major folk tale of Moldova; the first two verses are supposedly inscribed on Moldovan currency. You may think that 'E pluribus unum' is lame, but at least our currency isn't covered with what I think may be one of the most depressing poems ever. The basic gist is that an enchanted ewe tells her Moldovan owner that his Transylvanian and Vrancean neighbors are going to kill him that night--and rather than do anything about it, he just tells the ewe to lie to everyone after he's been murdered and say that he went off to marry a princess. Maybe something was lost in the translation, but it seems apt, given that most Eastern European folktales are perfectly hopeless. I have reproduced the poem in all its lamely-translated glory for you below; now it's time for me to go to bed!
'Mioritza'
Near a low foothill
At Heaven’s doorsill,
Where the trail’s descending
To the plain and ending,
Here three shepherds keep
Their three flocks of sheep,
One, Moldavian,
One, Transylvanian
And one, Vrancean.
Now, the Vrancean
And the Transylvanian
In their thoughts, conniving,
Have laid plans, contriving
At the close of day
To ambush and slay
The Moldavian;
He, the wealthier one,
Had more flocks to keep,
Handsome, long-horned sheep,
Horses, trained and sound,
And the fiercest hounds.
One small ewe-lamb, though,
Dappled gray as tow,
While three full days passed
Bleated loud and fast;
Would not touch the grass.
”Ewe-lamb, dapple-gray,
Muzzled black and gray,
While three full days passed
You bleat loud and fast;
Don’t you like this grass?
Are you too sick to eat,
Little lamb so sweet?”
”Oh my master dear,
Drive the flock out near
That field, dark to view,
Where the grass grows new,
Where there’s shade for you.
”Master, master dear,
Call a large hound near,
A fierce one and fearless,
Strong, loyal and peerless.
The Transylvanian
And the Vrancean
When the daylight’s through
Mean to murder you.”
”Lamb, my little ewe,
If this omen’s true,
If I’m doomed to death
On this tract of heath,
Tell the Vrancean
And Transylvanian
To let my bones lie
Somewhere here close by,
By the sheepfold here
So my flocks are near,
Back of my hut’s grounds
So I’ll hear my hounds.
Tell them what I say:
There, beside me lay
One small pipe of beech
Whith its soft, sweet speech,
One small pipe of bone
Whit its loving tone,
One of elderwood,
Fiery-tongued and good.
Then the winds that blow
Would play on them so
All my listening sheep
Would draw near and weep
Tears, no blood so deep.
How I met my death,
Tell them not a breath;
Say I could not tarry,
I have gone to marry
A princess – my bride
Is the whole world’s pride.
At my wedding, tell
How a bright star fell,
Sun and moon came down
To hold my bridal crown,
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests; my priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.
But if you see there,
Should you meet somewhere,
My old mother, little,
With her white wool girdle,
Eyes with their tears flowing,
Over the plains going,
Asking one and all,
Saying to them all,
’Who has ever known,
Who has seen my own
Shepherd fine to see,
Slim as a willow tree,
With his dear face, bright
As the milk-foam, white,
His small moustache, right
As the young wheat’s ear,
With his hair so dear,
Like plumes of the crow
Little eyes that glow
Like the ripe black sloe?’
Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,
For her sake have pity,
Let it just be said
I have gone to wed
A princess most noble
There on Heaven’s doorsill.
To that mother, old,
Let it not be told
That a star fell, bright,
For my bridal night;
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests, priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.”
The sandwich was procured at the deli in the complex where my laundromat and favorite cafe are located; I ate half the sandwich when I finally made it out of the apartment for lunch at two p.m., and the other half for dinner several hours later. If no one hears from me for a few days, assume that I succumbed to food poisoning in the night, since I didn't refrigerate the sandwich in the interim--I think I have a rather blase approach to food storage because I figure that if I didn't die after drinking that hideously-dirty iced tea in Mumbai, anything that the American bacteria population can throw at me will be like a walk in the park by comparison. Granted, if I run into any newly-immigrated bacteria, I could be in for some problems; immigrants always work harder and for less reward, so I'm sure a population of bacteria recently arrived on some produce from a third-world country could be my undoing, but I'm hoping for the best.
I successfully washed five loads of clothing, bedding, and towels, and I equally successfully hung or folded all five loads, so I felt v. accomplished by the end of the day. I also remade my bed and cleaned my desk. Doing anything else in the apartment was beyond my current level of domestic ambition, so I did all of the reading for my short-story class and tried to write some more of that short story that I turned in last week. I wrote a couple of pages but thought it was crap, so browsed around Amazon for awhile and ordered a couple of books about Moldova. You may be surprised to know that there are very few books about Moldova in English; I ended up ordering the Lonely Planet for Moldova and Romania because a) it was the best way to get pictures of Moldova and b) I really want to go there sometime in the not-so-distant future. I also got a book of 19th-century British women's clothing designs, so that I can dress up the heroine of my romance novel in all manner of frocks, day gowns, riding habits, negligees, etc. (for those of you who think romance novels are just porn--the women do wear clothing most of the time, and half the fun in reading those books is imagining yourself in all the gorgeous outfits).
In addition to browsing Amazon, I read up on Moldova on Wikipedia. The best part of it was finding this poem that is apparently the major folk tale of Moldova; the first two verses are supposedly inscribed on Moldovan currency. You may think that 'E pluribus unum' is lame, but at least our currency isn't covered with what I think may be one of the most depressing poems ever. The basic gist is that an enchanted ewe tells her Moldovan owner that his Transylvanian and Vrancean neighbors are going to kill him that night--and rather than do anything about it, he just tells the ewe to lie to everyone after he's been murdered and say that he went off to marry a princess. Maybe something was lost in the translation, but it seems apt, given that most Eastern European folktales are perfectly hopeless. I have reproduced the poem in all its lamely-translated glory for you below; now it's time for me to go to bed!
'Mioritza'
Near a low foothill
At Heaven’s doorsill,
Where the trail’s descending
To the plain and ending,
Here three shepherds keep
Their three flocks of sheep,
One, Moldavian,
One, Transylvanian
And one, Vrancean.
Now, the Vrancean
And the Transylvanian
In their thoughts, conniving,
Have laid plans, contriving
At the close of day
To ambush and slay
The Moldavian;
He, the wealthier one,
Had more flocks to keep,
Handsome, long-horned sheep,
Horses, trained and sound,
And the fiercest hounds.
One small ewe-lamb, though,
Dappled gray as tow,
While three full days passed
Bleated loud and fast;
Would not touch the grass.
”Ewe-lamb, dapple-gray,
Muzzled black and gray,
While three full days passed
You bleat loud and fast;
Don’t you like this grass?
Are you too sick to eat,
Little lamb so sweet?”
”Oh my master dear,
Drive the flock out near
That field, dark to view,
Where the grass grows new,
Where there’s shade for you.
”Master, master dear,
Call a large hound near,
A fierce one and fearless,
Strong, loyal and peerless.
The Transylvanian
And the Vrancean
When the daylight’s through
Mean to murder you.”
”Lamb, my little ewe,
If this omen’s true,
If I’m doomed to death
On this tract of heath,
Tell the Vrancean
And Transylvanian
To let my bones lie
Somewhere here close by,
By the sheepfold here
So my flocks are near,
Back of my hut’s grounds
So I’ll hear my hounds.
Tell them what I say:
There, beside me lay
One small pipe of beech
Whith its soft, sweet speech,
One small pipe of bone
Whit its loving tone,
One of elderwood,
Fiery-tongued and good.
Then the winds that blow
Would play on them so
All my listening sheep
Would draw near and weep
Tears, no blood so deep.
How I met my death,
Tell them not a breath;
Say I could not tarry,
I have gone to marry
A princess – my bride
Is the whole world’s pride.
At my wedding, tell
How a bright star fell,
Sun and moon came down
To hold my bridal crown,
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests; my priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.
But if you see there,
Should you meet somewhere,
My old mother, little,
With her white wool girdle,
Eyes with their tears flowing,
Over the plains going,
Asking one and all,
Saying to them all,
’Who has ever known,
Who has seen my own
Shepherd fine to see,
Slim as a willow tree,
With his dear face, bright
As the milk-foam, white,
His small moustache, right
As the young wheat’s ear,
With his hair so dear,
Like plumes of the crow
Little eyes that glow
Like the ripe black sloe?’
Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,
For her sake have pity,
Let it just be said
I have gone to wed
A princess most noble
There on Heaven’s doorsill.
To that mother, old,
Let it not be told
That a star fell, bright,
For my bridal night;
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests, priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.”
give a little bit of your love to me
I still hate the city. I went up this afternoon and had a lovely brunch (if you can have brunch at 2pm) with Tom and Julie. We proceeded to order drinks when happy hour started around three, and called Vidya so that she could join us. She only lives a few blocks from Tom/Julie, so it was v. convenient. I also finally saw her place (yay!); Tom and Julie saw it too, and we played a rousing game of carrom (an Indian game that is sort of equivalent to finger-billiards, because you use a puck controlled by flicking your fingers to put smaller discs into the pockets at the corners of the board). Vidya's place is v. lovely, w/lots of sunlight, and almost makes me wish that I had bought a place--but I think I need to concentrate on fixing the rest of my life before I start the Wampler trend of becoming a land baron.
After parting ways with that crew, I went over the Heather and Salim's to watch a bit of martial arts/boxing. Some gigantic dude named Butterbean took out his opponent with a series of vicious punches in about thirty seconds, which was apparently the highlight of the night. I don't know--I spent all of my time hanging out with the girls (and later some of the guys) in the dining room. It was fun, but I wasn't drinking because I wanted to be able to drive home, and so that perhaps made it slightly less fun that it would have otherwise been. I just wasn't really in the mood for a raucous party, which is what the expat gatherings always sound like given the extreme volume generated by several of the group's members. I don't know what was wrong, but I wasn't really feeling amenable to being teased incessantly tonight; normally I'm fine with it and in many ways invite it, but the rare nights when I'm not thrilled about it, I don't know how to stop it without throwing a fit and potentially damaging longer-term amusement.
After leaving the party, I took Jenni back to the Marina area, then dropped Subz off in Sunnyvale before coming home. Now it's time for me to go to bed--there are many things I want to do tomorrow, and I'm sure I won't get through half of them, but I should at least try. Goodnight!
After parting ways with that crew, I went over the Heather and Salim's to watch a bit of martial arts/boxing. Some gigantic dude named Butterbean took out his opponent with a series of vicious punches in about thirty seconds, which was apparently the highlight of the night. I don't know--I spent all of my time hanging out with the girls (and later some of the guys) in the dining room. It was fun, but I wasn't drinking because I wanted to be able to drive home, and so that perhaps made it slightly less fun that it would have otherwise been. I just wasn't really in the mood for a raucous party, which is what the expat gatherings always sound like given the extreme volume generated by several of the group's members. I don't know what was wrong, but I wasn't really feeling amenable to being teased incessantly tonight; normally I'm fine with it and in many ways invite it, but the rare nights when I'm not thrilled about it, I don't know how to stop it without throwing a fit and potentially damaging longer-term amusement.
After leaving the party, I took Jenni back to the Marina area, then dropped Subz off in Sunnyvale before coming home. Now it's time for me to go to bed--there are many things I want to do tomorrow, and I'm sure I won't get through half of them, but I should at least try. Goodnight!
Friday, October 20, 2006
step one: you say we need to talk
I discovered, much to my delight, that Regina-madam is back in the States for a couple of weeks for a wedding, before heading back to India for few more months. Jenni, Arod and I went over to hang out with her and Rohit in their absolutely gorgeous house--I can't believe that she's stayed in India for a year and a half when she has such a wonderful house to come home to. Also, Rohit made tons of food--how can you abandon a guy who cooks for you? Anyway, I love my place, but I wished it felt as put-together as that--I need to decorate more. Then again, a one-bedroom rental will never feel like a three-bedroom that you can paint and mess with however you like.
So anyway, it was great to see them. I can't believe I've been back from India an entire year. That seems impossible--it seems like only yesterday that I was crying my eyes out in the back of a Singaporean taxi, mourning my lost Indian crew and feeling extreme apprehension about the future. It also seems like only yesterday that I was laughing my ass off at how angry my friends got over the now-infamous dinner at Lucky Dhaba, where they all got served to greater or lesser extents. Ah, the memories.
Okay, I should go to bed--I have a full day of socializing in the city ahead of me, and so I may not blog tomorrow night. Finally, happy birthday to Aragorn (aka Viggo Mortensen)--perhaps Sunday I'll watch all of the 'Lord of the Rings' movies in his honor. [note to Tammy: I don't keep his birthday on my calendar, I just happened to see it on dlisted and pink is the new blog].
So anyway, it was great to see them. I can't believe I've been back from India an entire year. That seems impossible--it seems like only yesterday that I was crying my eyes out in the back of a Singaporean taxi, mourning my lost Indian crew and feeling extreme apprehension about the future. It also seems like only yesterday that I was laughing my ass off at how angry my friends got over the now-infamous dinner at Lucky Dhaba, where they all got served to greater or lesser extents. Ah, the memories.
Okay, I should go to bed--I have a full day of socializing in the city ahead of me, and so I may not blog tomorrow night. Finally, happy birthday to Aragorn (aka Viggo Mortensen)--perhaps Sunday I'll watch all of the 'Lord of the Rings' movies in his honor. [note to Tammy: I don't keep his birthday on my calendar, I just happened to see it on dlisted and pink is the new blog].
Thursday, October 19, 2006
you begin to wonder why you came
My short story was critiqued in my creative writing class tonight, and the feedback was pretty positive. It picked my spirits up considerably; it's funny how often during the week I wondered what my classmates' reactions were going to be to my story, and I was nervous walking in tonight because I didn't like waiting for the proverbial axe to fall on my baby. However, people seemed to like it, even though it wasn't one of those 'deep hidden meaning' stories and even though it turned into an introductory chapter to a much larger story. I got some good feedback on things I could modify, and encouragement to continue it, which indicates that the story was intriguing. Yay.
I think I took the class to alleviate a bit of my deep-seeded (seated? who knows?) insecurities about my writing, and tonight helped a little. However, there are two problems with that: a) I need to be secure in myself, rather than searching for security for others, or else I'll never truly be happy, and b) I feel more secure about what I've already written, but I don't feel confident about whether I can finish the story. I start panicking about whether it's going to turn into meaningless drivel, or whether the story will just dry up and disappear--I don't know what the ending is yet, so what if it's lame?
All of my doubts and insecurities start bubbling up to the surface as soon as I start worrying that something might turn out to be 'lame'--and maybe it's because so much of my social identity is tied up in how my sense of humor attracts others. If a joke falls flat, if a story doesn't hold interest, if people aren't laughing with me, I feel one step closer to losing them, and so this clawing sense of desperation sometimes under some of my more casual interactions. It's not so necessary to make my close friends laugh, perhaps, but by then it's so engrained in the relationship that it's natural. The act of storytelling in writing is so much more dangerous because it's impossible to know whether your readers will laugh with you, or whether they will brush you off entirely.
Anyway, despite all that, despite the inherent misery in coming up with a story and worrying about sending this little reflection of yourself out into the world, I do like writing, and I enjoyed encouraging my imagination to find a whole story out of an image of a public storage facility. I'm really glad I'm taking this class--it seems to have had a positive effect on me in general, it makes the week go faster, and I have 'something to live for', to use a cliched and disturbing phrase. Perhaps I'll take another one next quarter, if I don't think I've developed the self-discipline necessary to force myself to write every week. I should be writing every night, but that's an issue for another day. Now, it's time to go to bed so that I can go to work at seven and catch up on all the stuff that I should have done tonight--but I'm boycotting tonight so that I can relish the feeling of accomplishment that came out of tonight's class. Work can wait another eight hours.
I think I took the class to alleviate a bit of my deep-seeded (seated? who knows?) insecurities about my writing, and tonight helped a little. However, there are two problems with that: a) I need to be secure in myself, rather than searching for security for others, or else I'll never truly be happy, and b) I feel more secure about what I've already written, but I don't feel confident about whether I can finish the story. I start panicking about whether it's going to turn into meaningless drivel, or whether the story will just dry up and disappear--I don't know what the ending is yet, so what if it's lame?
All of my doubts and insecurities start bubbling up to the surface as soon as I start worrying that something might turn out to be 'lame'--and maybe it's because so much of my social identity is tied up in how my sense of humor attracts others. If a joke falls flat, if a story doesn't hold interest, if people aren't laughing with me, I feel one step closer to losing them, and so this clawing sense of desperation sometimes under some of my more casual interactions. It's not so necessary to make my close friends laugh, perhaps, but by then it's so engrained in the relationship that it's natural. The act of storytelling in writing is so much more dangerous because it's impossible to know whether your readers will laugh with you, or whether they will brush you off entirely.
Anyway, despite all that, despite the inherent misery in coming up with a story and worrying about sending this little reflection of yourself out into the world, I do like writing, and I enjoyed encouraging my imagination to find a whole story out of an image of a public storage facility. I'm really glad I'm taking this class--it seems to have had a positive effect on me in general, it makes the week go faster, and I have 'something to live for', to use a cliched and disturbing phrase. Perhaps I'll take another one next quarter, if I don't think I've developed the self-discipline necessary to force myself to write every week. I should be writing every night, but that's an issue for another day. Now, it's time to go to bed so that I can go to work at seven and catch up on all the stuff that I should have done tonight--but I'm boycotting tonight so that I can relish the feeling of accomplishment that came out of tonight's class. Work can wait another eight hours.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
i don't want to call my friends, they might wake me from this dream
It's time for me to go to bed. I've been feeling strangely driven at work recently, moreso than I have for awhile, which means that I'm quite content to work like mad--although today I didn't get into the office until around noon because I had to work from home while waiting for the Comcast guy to hook up my cable (and then work from home while watching a little Montel Williams to 'make sure the cable was hooked up properly'. ha!). I got home around 7ish and intended to make delicious fried potatoes and eggs (over easy, of course)--but the potatoes in my cabinet were starting to feel squishy, so I threw them out and ran to the store, where I discovered that the lines on every register were stretched back into the aisles. Annoying! Since it takes less than two minutes to walk to the grocery store from my apartment, I promptly turned around, came home, and made half a peanut butter sandwich to tide me over until the lines cleared. Then I got engrossed in the stuff I was doing around the house, so I ended up eating eggs sans potatoes later. This was all quite disappointing, especially since my father had regaled me earlier with stories of all the ribeye steaks that he and my mother had eaten in the past week and intend to eat (since my mother bought a whole ribeye, which they then cut into steaks and froze--that's 18lbs of steak, for those of you who keep track of such things). Peanut butter, even delicious crunchy peanut butter, just didn't cut it after hearing about all that awesomeness.
It's now almost one-thirty, and I got quite a bit done while watching 'Criminal Minds', 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', a 'Scrubs' rerun, Letterman, and some Craig Ferguson. I'm so happy to have a TV--even though I recognize that there's nothing on that I really care about watching, I'm somehow more productive when the TV is on. I think that it triggers my Pavlovian response mechanism--TV carried me through many a long night in Hyderabad, when I would sit in my ultra-hard bed with my freezing, rattling, leaking air-conditioner, watching Bollywood music videos in the background while churning out all the random things I had to do back then. 'The Daily Show' is definitely an upgrade from the Bollywood videos, let me tell ya, but not as big an upgrade as my comfortable couch is over any seating/relaxing surface I found in Hyderabad.
Okay, no more...tomorrow will be busy enough without being destroyed by my exhaustion. Jenni and perhaps some other expats are coming over to watch 'Lost', I may be having dinner with Terry, and I have to read the stuff for my short story class on Thursday. Goodnight!
It's now almost one-thirty, and I got quite a bit done while watching 'Criminal Minds', 'The Daily Show', 'The Colbert Report', a 'Scrubs' rerun, Letterman, and some Craig Ferguson. I'm so happy to have a TV--even though I recognize that there's nothing on that I really care about watching, I'm somehow more productive when the TV is on. I think that it triggers my Pavlovian response mechanism--TV carried me through many a long night in Hyderabad, when I would sit in my ultra-hard bed with my freezing, rattling, leaking air-conditioner, watching Bollywood music videos in the background while churning out all the random things I had to do back then. 'The Daily Show' is definitely an upgrade from the Bollywood videos, let me tell ya, but not as big an upgrade as my comfortable couch is over any seating/relaxing surface I found in Hyderabad.
Okay, no more...tomorrow will be busy enough without being destroyed by my exhaustion. Jenni and perhaps some other expats are coming over to watch 'Lost', I may be having dinner with Terry, and I have to read the stuff for my short story class on Thursday. Goodnight!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
when i'm deep inside of me, don't be too concerned
I was quite productive at work today, but I spent a bit of time getting a visitor from Dublin settled in, and so I didn't get completely through everything that I wanted to accomplish. So, I came home and intended to work while watching 'Love Actually' on my beautiful TV, but instead I played with my iPod while watching 'Love Actually'. To be precise, I played with my brand-new hot pink iPod nano, which arrived today. My old iPod, at over three years old, was in danger of dying at last, and I decided to replace it before the end came (and before they decided to pull the magenta version of the nano). It's gorgeous, and about a fourth of the size of my old iPod, which was already small enough. Actually, it's quite a miracle of modern invention; I can fit a thousand songs on a gadget that is smaller than a pack of Trident. And, it has a color screen; my old-generation iPod seems positively ancient by comparison.
So, after the movie ended and after I had uploaded all my favorites, I finally got down to business and cranked out the things that I absolutely had to do tonight. Now I should go to bed so that I can get up early, shower, and no doubt wait for several fruitless hours until the Comcast guy finally shows up. I'm working from home tomorrow morning so that I can wait for my cable to be installed, and when it finally is installed, my life will magically return to normal. Yay.
I haven't written anything since I hurriedly finished my short story last week; this trend is something I must rectify. I also need to read the stories for this week, as well as clean my bathroom in case I have company on Wednesday night to watch 'Lost'. Ah, so much to do, so little time. And, as the woman at the Container Store so kindly reminded me, Christmas is only two months away. How is that possible? It seems like only weeks ago that I opened my Christmas presents from my relatives. In fact, I'm going to relive that experience shortly, if my mother gets her act together--since I was moving to Ireland shortly after Christmas (or so I thought) last year, I didn't bring my presents back, and when I drove my car back here this summer, I only had room for a couple of things, like the jewelry box my nieces and nephew gave me. So, I'm now demanding that they be sent before Christmas this year, otherwise I'm sure I'll end up being regifted my own stuff. Actually, that wouldn't be so horrible, but I had received a Julia Child cookbook, as well as Russian and Indian cookbooks, and I'd love to experiment. There were also some lovely red mixing bowls, and some jersey-knit sheets that I'm going to want in a few short weeks if the weather takes the turn for the worse that it always seems to take this time of year.
Of course, come to think of it I don't really have room for any more stuff, but most of it was kitchenware, and that's the one thing I still have room for (mainly because I haven't stocked up on my groceries). If I ever want to get to the point where there are no boxes sitting out in any part of my apartment, I'm going to have to purge some more stuff, which will inevitably break my heart. Oh well, once it's done I probably won't miss most of it. Now, though, is no time to contemplate this awful task; I'm going to bed!
So, after the movie ended and after I had uploaded all my favorites, I finally got down to business and cranked out the things that I absolutely had to do tonight. Now I should go to bed so that I can get up early, shower, and no doubt wait for several fruitless hours until the Comcast guy finally shows up. I'm working from home tomorrow morning so that I can wait for my cable to be installed, and when it finally is installed, my life will magically return to normal. Yay.
I haven't written anything since I hurriedly finished my short story last week; this trend is something I must rectify. I also need to read the stories for this week, as well as clean my bathroom in case I have company on Wednesday night to watch 'Lost'. Ah, so much to do, so little time. And, as the woman at the Container Store so kindly reminded me, Christmas is only two months away. How is that possible? It seems like only weeks ago that I opened my Christmas presents from my relatives. In fact, I'm going to relive that experience shortly, if my mother gets her act together--since I was moving to Ireland shortly after Christmas (or so I thought) last year, I didn't bring my presents back, and when I drove my car back here this summer, I only had room for a couple of things, like the jewelry box my nieces and nephew gave me. So, I'm now demanding that they be sent before Christmas this year, otherwise I'm sure I'll end up being regifted my own stuff. Actually, that wouldn't be so horrible, but I had received a Julia Child cookbook, as well as Russian and Indian cookbooks, and I'd love to experiment. There were also some lovely red mixing bowls, and some jersey-knit sheets that I'm going to want in a few short weeks if the weather takes the turn for the worse that it always seems to take this time of year.
Of course, come to think of it I don't really have room for any more stuff, but most of it was kitchenware, and that's the one thing I still have room for (mainly because I haven't stocked up on my groceries). If I ever want to get to the point where there are no boxes sitting out in any part of my apartment, I'm going to have to purge some more stuff, which will inevitably break my heart. Oh well, once it's done I probably won't miss most of it. Now, though, is no time to contemplate this awful task; I'm going to bed!
Monday, October 16, 2006
me and julio down by the schoolyard
Man, it's great having a TV again. Now I can watch movies while working, which means that I actually got stuff done tonight instead of driving myself crazy by listening to 'Melt the Sugar' (my latest song obsession) on constant repeat while reading gossip columns on the web. I watched a double-header of 'Napoleon Dynamite' and 'The Royal Tenenbaums' while catching up on my work emails, playing with my calendar for the coming week, and doing some desultory analysis of stuff. I may despise the pit that American home-life has sunk into, since it would be so much nicer if we all still got together with our neighbors to play canasta and bridge (I *love* canasta, but I have never played bridge, because Americans are too socially isolated to play bridge). But, I'm enough of a hypocrite to believe that my television is the best thing since sliced bread.
I finally rolled out of bed after noon today, as promised in my last blog entry. I read some New York Times articles and mindlessly surfed the web for awhile, then shook myself out of my laziness and ran some errands. First, I picked up a painting that I had had framed--it looks gorgeous, and I can't wait to figure out how to hang it up. I bought the painting in South Africa, and I love it even more now that it's properly stretched and framed. I dropped it off at my apartment since it was taking up the entire length of the backseat, then went to the Container Store, where I procured several large plastic drawers for my closet. I also stopped by Crate and Barrel, where I only browsed, much to my own shock; the lines were too long to be effective, and I've reached the point where there's so much stuff that I want at Crate and Barrel that it's smarter for me to never pick up a shopping basket at all. I'll break down one of these days, though, so expect Crate and Barrel's fourth-quarter earnings to rise sharply.
Now I should go to bed, so that I can go to work tomorrow and start the week on the right foot. I'm currently feeling more positive about my corporate whoredom--probably because it enabled me to buy a TV and contemplate buying more furniture for my apartment. I need to stop being such a dutiful little consumer, but I like to say that I'm doing it for my country and fueling the economy. I also need to do my writing class assignments for this week, but that's a good project for tomorrow night, when I also need to do laundry. Now I shall leave you with a poem; I thought of it because I had emailed Walter to receive confirmation that he wasn't dead, but while talking with him, decided that I probably would have known because his father would have let me know, or at least posted a poem about it. This was the first poem that sprung to mind when I thought of senseless deaths of young men; enjoy!
Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen,
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
I finally rolled out of bed after noon today, as promised in my last blog entry. I read some New York Times articles and mindlessly surfed the web for awhile, then shook myself out of my laziness and ran some errands. First, I picked up a painting that I had had framed--it looks gorgeous, and I can't wait to figure out how to hang it up. I bought the painting in South Africa, and I love it even more now that it's properly stretched and framed. I dropped it off at my apartment since it was taking up the entire length of the backseat, then went to the Container Store, where I procured several large plastic drawers for my closet. I also stopped by Crate and Barrel, where I only browsed, much to my own shock; the lines were too long to be effective, and I've reached the point where there's so much stuff that I want at Crate and Barrel that it's smarter for me to never pick up a shopping basket at all. I'll break down one of these days, though, so expect Crate and Barrel's fourth-quarter earnings to rise sharply.
Now I should go to bed, so that I can go to work tomorrow and start the week on the right foot. I'm currently feeling more positive about my corporate whoredom--probably because it enabled me to buy a TV and contemplate buying more furniture for my apartment. I need to stop being such a dutiful little consumer, but I like to say that I'm doing it for my country and fueling the economy. I also need to do my writing class assignments for this week, but that's a good project for tomorrow night, when I also need to do laundry. Now I shall leave you with a poem; I thought of it because I had emailed Walter to receive confirmation that he wasn't dead, but while talking with him, decided that I probably would have known because his father would have let me know, or at least posted a poem about it. This was the first poem that sprung to mind when I thought of senseless deaths of young men; enjoy!
Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen,
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
8 October 1917 - March, 1918
1 DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country
Sunday, October 15, 2006
it's always better on holiday
I definitely need to go to bed, since it's perilously close to 4am. I had a nice day; I didn't wake up until almost noon (throwing away my good intentions), then hurriedly showered and dressed so that I could meet Oniel for a quick lunch before meeting Claude to see Jet Li's 'Fearless'. I thought the movie was great, and I cried at the end--I don't know why, but certain Asian martial arts movies ('Hero', 'Fearless', 'House of Flying Daggers', etc.--even the end of 'Kill Bill vol. 2') make me cry, even though there are many Western movies that leave me dry-eyed. Perhaps it's because I value honor about just about everything else, and those Chinese period flicks are rife with it.
Anyway, after the movie I organized all of my paperwork (baby steps, I know). Then I went to Shedletsky, Joanna, and Eric's house for dinner. That turned into a nine-hour marathon; we had dinner (delicious french onion soup, which made me luckily too full for Shedletsky's Indian food:), and then Patrick, Can, Eric S., and Jen left. But, Doug came over and we played some board game that I'd never played before--Carcassonne, which involved drawing random tiles and connecting them to make bigger structures, with a point system based on which areas you control throughout the game. It wasn't bad, and I would be fine playing again, but I didn't fall in love with it.
However, after playing Carcassonne, Shedletsky, Doug and I figured out a way to play an interesting, effective form of three-person Mafia. This would typically be impossible because you need a moderator, but we figured out a way using the colored man-shaped pieces from Carcassonne and Doug's hat, so that we could draw to see whether we were in the Mafia, and then put in our kill choice (or a blank, if you were a citizen) at night to determine the kill for the next day. Of course this relies on an honor system that people will 'fess up to their proper roles at the end of the game, but it worked for us. We came up with an even better variant in which there's a 25% chance that there is actually no mafia member, in which case the optimal strategy is to get yourself lynched, because the lynchee is the one who wins that game (and to make things more interesting long-term, we were keeping points for wins/losses). Anyway, trust me when I say it was entertaining, and managed to keep us engaged for three hours, which is actually kind of dumb now that I think about it. But, I had a great time tonight, so I don't regret it.
Now that I've gotten my fill of being a dork for a few days at least, it's time for me to go to bed. If anyone calls me tomorrow, be prepared to be screened out and then ignored for weeks to come--I'll either be asleep, taking a nap (i.e. asleep), or working, or reading for my short story class. The lone exception is my parents--but calling before noon would be extremely ill-advised :) Goodnight!
Anyway, after the movie I organized all of my paperwork (baby steps, I know). Then I went to Shedletsky, Joanna, and Eric's house for dinner. That turned into a nine-hour marathon; we had dinner (delicious french onion soup, which made me luckily too full for Shedletsky's Indian food:), and then Patrick, Can, Eric S., and Jen left. But, Doug came over and we played some board game that I'd never played before--Carcassonne, which involved drawing random tiles and connecting them to make bigger structures, with a point system based on which areas you control throughout the game. It wasn't bad, and I would be fine playing again, but I didn't fall in love with it.
However, after playing Carcassonne, Shedletsky, Doug and I figured out a way to play an interesting, effective form of three-person Mafia. This would typically be impossible because you need a moderator, but we figured out a way using the colored man-shaped pieces from Carcassonne and Doug's hat, so that we could draw to see whether we were in the Mafia, and then put in our kill choice (or a blank, if you were a citizen) at night to determine the kill for the next day. Of course this relies on an honor system that people will 'fess up to their proper roles at the end of the game, but it worked for us. We came up with an even better variant in which there's a 25% chance that there is actually no mafia member, in which case the optimal strategy is to get yourself lynched, because the lynchee is the one who wins that game (and to make things more interesting long-term, we were keeping points for wins/losses). Anyway, trust me when I say it was entertaining, and managed to keep us engaged for three hours, which is actually kind of dumb now that I think about it. But, I had a great time tonight, so I don't regret it.
Now that I've gotten my fill of being a dork for a few days at least, it's time for me to go to bed. If anyone calls me tomorrow, be prepared to be screened out and then ignored for weeks to come--I'll either be asleep, taking a nap (i.e. asleep), or working, or reading for my short story class. The lone exception is my parents--but calling before noon would be extremely ill-advised :) Goodnight!
Saturday, October 14, 2006
too weak to give in, too strong to lose
My television arrived today, and I am finally a real, honest-to-goodness American again now that I can stare mindlessly at the TV again. However, I won't have cable until Tuesday, but I wanted to test out the picture quality, so I watched 'Shaun of the Dead' tonight. Shout out to Lea in London--I recognized your husband in the garden scene!
The rest of my day was pretty uneventful as well; the TV delivery people were almost two hours late delivering the TV, so I didn't get much done and didn't go back into the office in the late afternoon like I had planned. I ran some errands, and was just wrapping up at Target when Claude called, so we had an impromptu dinner at the cafe near my apartment. I love that place--the special tonight was penne pasta with bay scallops, shrimp, and pesto sauce. Mmmmmmm. Granted, I don't really need to go out for awesome meals, since I get them at work; this week I had some delicious scallops for free in the cafeteria. They were on par, but on a parallel level to, the corndog that I had at work last week. Most of the cafes are on a serious health kick, but the nutritionist hasn't been able to take care of this particular cafe, so they had this awesome meal that included corndogs with bacon and cheese wrapped into it as well. Ohmigosh. If I live a thousand years, I'll probably still remember that corndog.
There's nothing else to report, really; I don't have serious plans for the weekend, although I am having dinner at Shedletsky's tomorrow night and perhaps seeing a movie in the afternoon. I want to spend the rest of the time organizing my closet (which is much too small for the amount of stuff I have--I need to investigate other storage options) and prepping for next week's writing class. Now, I'm going to go to bed, so that I don't sleep away the entire morning like I like to do. Goodnight!
The rest of my day was pretty uneventful as well; the TV delivery people were almost two hours late delivering the TV, so I didn't get much done and didn't go back into the office in the late afternoon like I had planned. I ran some errands, and was just wrapping up at Target when Claude called, so we had an impromptu dinner at the cafe near my apartment. I love that place--the special tonight was penne pasta with bay scallops, shrimp, and pesto sauce. Mmmmmmm. Granted, I don't really need to go out for awesome meals, since I get them at work; this week I had some delicious scallops for free in the cafeteria. They were on par, but on a parallel level to, the corndog that I had at work last week. Most of the cafes are on a serious health kick, but the nutritionist hasn't been able to take care of this particular cafe, so they had this awesome meal that included corndogs with bacon and cheese wrapped into it as well. Ohmigosh. If I live a thousand years, I'll probably still remember that corndog.
There's nothing else to report, really; I don't have serious plans for the weekend, although I am having dinner at Shedletsky's tomorrow night and perhaps seeing a movie in the afternoon. I want to spend the rest of the time organizing my closet (which is much too small for the amount of stuff I have--I need to investigate other storage options) and prepping for next week's writing class. Now, I'm going to go to bed, so that I don't sleep away the entire morning like I like to do. Goodnight!
Friday, October 13, 2006
the blog is not enough
Apologies to those of you who got tired of seeing my previous post. I don't have much to report from the past two nights. I don't actually remember what I did Tuesday night. Wednesday, I spent all day at the office, and then went over to Arod's to watch 'Lost' with her and Neel (who is visiting from India). Her grandmother made tons of homemade Indian food, which was delicious, and then we watched last night's episode and critiqued it. I came home with the intention of finishing my short story for tonight's class but was too tired, so I had to finish it v. quickly at work this afternoon. I think that the story is very much a fun, frivilous story; it's not one of those that gives some penetrating insight into human nature, and it's actually something that I'd like to turn into a book...I know a lot more about what's going on in the story than I was able to put into 12 pages for the class, and most of it is pretty entertaining.
Anyway, I've started yet another blog. I'm going to keep updating this one as the main source of information about my daily life. However, I want to encourage myself to write more stories, writing exercises, etc. So, if you care about reading such forays into literary folly, you can go to http://sarawampler.blogspot.com (also linked from the column on the right-hand side of this page). I've posted the story that I turned in tonight, and I'll hopefully post more stuff there. Don't hold your breath for things on that site, though :)
Okay, I have tons to do tomorrow and I'm exhausted, so it's time for bed. Goodnight!
Anyway, I've started yet another blog. I'm going to keep updating this one as the main source of information about my daily life. However, I want to encourage myself to write more stories, writing exercises, etc. So, if you care about reading such forays into literary folly, you can go to http://sarawampler.blogspot.com (also linked from the column on the right-hand side of this page). I've posted the story that I turned in tonight, and I'll hopefully post more stuff there. Don't hold your breath for things on that site, though :)
Okay, I have tons to do tomorrow and I'm exhausted, so it's time for bed. Goodnight!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
it's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right
Old friends are the best friends. I had an uneventful day at work, followed by a rather impromptu dinner with some of the oldest of the old gang--Adit had sent out an email last night asking if anyone wanted to have dinner tonight, and eight of us ended up at Amici's East Coast Pizzeria in MV [for those of you who care, that meant Adit, Zach, Maggie (on loan from Iowa), Claude, Sri, Oniel, Sri's friend Joanne, and myself]. Fun was had by all; Zach and Maggie left early so that Zach could prepare for his thesis defense on Friday, but the rest of us stuck around and messed around until ten p.m. It's funny that I find that particular group so relaxing--I really shouldn't, since they're completely obnoxious. But, I'm completely obnoxious too, so it all works out.
I was telling Vidya on Sunday that the first three years of my college experience feel like a hazy dream, and that only my senior year feels 'real'. I've discussed this before on this very blog, I believe, so I shall be brief. But, those first three years, regardless of how little I think about them now, and how much my life has changed since then, and how much I've grown up, were really formative and vital to who I've become, and sometimes it's nice to be reminded of those times by the people I survived with. It's been seven years since I first met Adit, Zach, Oniel, and Claude--that's 28% of my life, and probably a third of my conscious, thinking life. Crazy, huh? When I met them, there wasn't a single one of them that I thought I would even become friends with, let alone still be friends with nearly a decade, and probably a lifetime, later. Instead, it turns out that they're perfect for me.
Okay, that was nauseatingly sentimental of me, so I'm going to go to bed before I get even sappier. Goodnight!
I was telling Vidya on Sunday that the first three years of my college experience feel like a hazy dream, and that only my senior year feels 'real'. I've discussed this before on this very blog, I believe, so I shall be brief. But, those first three years, regardless of how little I think about them now, and how much my life has changed since then, and how much I've grown up, were really formative and vital to who I've become, and sometimes it's nice to be reminded of those times by the people I survived with. It's been seven years since I first met Adit, Zach, Oniel, and Claude--that's 28% of my life, and probably a third of my conscious, thinking life. Crazy, huh? When I met them, there wasn't a single one of them that I thought I would even become friends with, let alone still be friends with nearly a decade, and probably a lifetime, later. Instead, it turns out that they're perfect for me.
Okay, that was nauseatingly sentimental of me, so I'm going to go to bed before I get even sappier. Goodnight!
Monday, October 09, 2006
only cream and bastards rise
I don't really care about blogging tonight, but I am sensitive about the possibility of losing my loyal audience. I spent the weekend doing less than I should have. I did manage to cut up a whole mass of peppers, onions, and mushrooms, freezing them in a dozen small ziploc bags, each serving enough for an omelette or a couple of quesadillas. This bounty should feed me off and on for awhile. I also sorted through my clothes, but since I was too lazy to repack them in the stackable tubs that they had been stored in, I now have clothes strewn all over my room. I ordered a TV online and expect to have it delivered on Friday, which is v. exciting; it's a 32" LCD HDTV model, which is smaller and more sensible than the 42" plasma that I had been looking at, but still stylish--one of those 3"-thick flatscreens that could hang on the wall, if I wasn't worried about installing it incorrectly and having it crash down and destroy itself on my floor.
Today, I had lunch with Vidius Chandicus (you may know her as Vidya, but sometimes I like to pretend that she's Roman) at Fiesta del Mar today; we spent two hours catching up, since I hadn't seen her since my birthday party. That was fun, even if it did result in me eating more dried-out tortilla chips than I should have. Then, I came home and took a nap, then went to Starbucks, talked to my parents, and then tried to write a story for my short-story class. I wrote it out in longhand using one of my fountain pens (filled with Saguaro Wine), and by the time I left as the store was closing at 8:30, my hand was aching with the pleasant fatigue of accomplishment. I typed up what I had written when I got home, and it amounted to seven double-spaced pages (2117 words)--which, since the max is 12, leaves me with only 5 pages to tell the rest of my story. That's unfortunate, since I think this could be a much longer story, possibly a book; in fact, I had thought of the idea several months ago and had conceived of it as a book, but I decided to start with it as a story for lack of anything better to write about for Thursday. I shall perhaps post it here when I'm done; hopefully I'll finish a draft tomorrow night, although I'm apparently making unexpected dinner plans.
Now, I need to go to bed--I want to go to work relatively early tomorrow so that I can leave relatively early and finish my story. Goodnight!
Today, I had lunch with Vidius Chandicus (you may know her as Vidya, but sometimes I like to pretend that she's Roman) at Fiesta del Mar today; we spent two hours catching up, since I hadn't seen her since my birthday party. That was fun, even if it did result in me eating more dried-out tortilla chips than I should have. Then, I came home and took a nap, then went to Starbucks, talked to my parents, and then tried to write a story for my short-story class. I wrote it out in longhand using one of my fountain pens (filled with Saguaro Wine), and by the time I left as the store was closing at 8:30, my hand was aching with the pleasant fatigue of accomplishment. I typed up what I had written when I got home, and it amounted to seven double-spaced pages (2117 words)--which, since the max is 12, leaves me with only 5 pages to tell the rest of my story. That's unfortunate, since I think this could be a much longer story, possibly a book; in fact, I had thought of the idea several months ago and had conceived of it as a book, but I decided to start with it as a story for lack of anything better to write about for Thursday. I shall perhaps post it here when I'm done; hopefully I'll finish a draft tomorrow night, although I'm apparently making unexpected dinner plans.
Now, I need to go to bed--I want to go to work relatively early tomorrow so that I can leave relatively early and finish my story. Goodnight!
Saturday, October 07, 2006
never let me go
I went shopping after work; I was not satisfied, which was my own fault because I ate dinner at Panda Express in the mall that I went to before trying on clothes, and this meant that I was too full to properly fit into pants (which is what I was there to buy), and so I just left frustrated. I cheered myself up by trying out the new inks that arrived today; two colors are similar to each other, but both are lovely, luscious shades of magenta, and so that's okay. The third is more of a teal, also lovely, and I'm thrilled with all of them, so I predict much writing-with-fountain-pens in my future.
Afterwards, I wanted to read a book, and I really just wanted to read a romance novel or something else that I had already read. But, my reading patterns have stagnated; it's almost like I don't want to read anything new because I don't want to risk being forced to think about things that I haven't already thought about. The books that I've been reading lately can't surprise me, and so they're intensely comforting, but I need to shake myself out of my comfort zone, if only so that I can get on with my life. Also, some of the stuff that I've been reading for my creative writing class says that you can't be a writer without also being a reader, which makes sense. Reading was such an integral part of my childhood, all the way through high school, that it's strange that I've fallen away from it in adulthood.
In an effort to reclaim that, I went to the shelf of books that I keep meaning to read and picked up 'Never Let Me Go' by Kazuo Ishiguro. I had asked for and received it from my parents for Christmas last year, but had never gotten around to reading it. I think that I avoid picking up new books partially because when I am reading something, I have an absolute compulsion to finish it. This inevitably results in me staying up until four a.m. in an attempt to get through the thing, then staggering blindly through my work routine the next day, either recovering from the previous night's bender or looking forward to another one if the book was too long to finish in one go. This book was ~240 pages and I read it in three hours, which was pretty good considering that I was silently crying for the last sixty or so pages.
The book was really haunting; without giving too much away, it's essentially a love triangle in which the three participants are all clones who have been raised in order to be used for organ donation. Just to clarify, they're not clones of each other, so there's nothing weird going on there--it's like a standard coming-of-age story with the twist that everyone involved is meant to have their organs harvested at some point in the not-so-distant future. It was, therefore, completely devastating; it felt like it didn't matter if most clones died before they were thirty, because there probably wasn't much of a chance that they would have done anything interesting anyway. And, most of the chances for real, albeit fleeting, happiness were lost through misunderstandings and simple human failures. So in the end it didn't matter whether they were clones or not; the fact that they were all destined to be harvested was just a convenient plot device for Ishiguro to point out the frailty and doom of human existence.
That's not to say that the characters weren't important; by the end of the book, I cared about them quite a bit. It just ceased to matter that they were clones, or that something barbaric was being done to them in an alternate universe where cloning for organ replacement was somehow acceptable; instead, the barbarism was overshadowed by how truly awful humans usually are to each other, and how unlikely it is to find something healthier, and how we often put up with bad behavior from those around us because we don't know any better, or don't believe that we are capable of winning more for ourselves.
Anyway, I don't think the world's quite as bleak as all that; but, the book did make me wish that I was out living my life, exploring the windswept wilds of Mongolia, or eating dim sum in Hong Kong, or following ancient Incan roads through the Andes, or just sitting someplace writing all of the mystical visions that come into my head. Instead, I'm sitting in my comfortable bed, trying to decide between a 32" or 42" tv (yesterday's bonus makes it tempting to upgrade), and thinking about my 'career' and my 'long-term goals' and all that other corporate stuff that suddenly seems like the equivalent of passing time before I donate all my organs. My driver's license lists me as an organ donor, after all, so it's not that far-fetched (albeit a bit melodramatic) to feel that I'm just aimlessly kicking about until I get hit by a car and someone needs my kidneys. Ugh.
Okay, enough of that--but I highly recommend the book if you're looking for something beautiful and stirring and heartbreaking. The writing was some of the best I've read in a long time, the story was gripping, and the premise was intriguing. What more can you ask from a book? Now it's time for me to go to sleep, and hopefully I will dream of something other than clones.
Afterwards, I wanted to read a book, and I really just wanted to read a romance novel or something else that I had already read. But, my reading patterns have stagnated; it's almost like I don't want to read anything new because I don't want to risk being forced to think about things that I haven't already thought about. The books that I've been reading lately can't surprise me, and so they're intensely comforting, but I need to shake myself out of my comfort zone, if only so that I can get on with my life. Also, some of the stuff that I've been reading for my creative writing class says that you can't be a writer without also being a reader, which makes sense. Reading was such an integral part of my childhood, all the way through high school, that it's strange that I've fallen away from it in adulthood.
In an effort to reclaim that, I went to the shelf of books that I keep meaning to read and picked up 'Never Let Me Go' by Kazuo Ishiguro. I had asked for and received it from my parents for Christmas last year, but had never gotten around to reading it. I think that I avoid picking up new books partially because when I am reading something, I have an absolute compulsion to finish it. This inevitably results in me staying up until four a.m. in an attempt to get through the thing, then staggering blindly through my work routine the next day, either recovering from the previous night's bender or looking forward to another one if the book was too long to finish in one go. This book was ~240 pages and I read it in three hours, which was pretty good considering that I was silently crying for the last sixty or so pages.
The book was really haunting; without giving too much away, it's essentially a love triangle in which the three participants are all clones who have been raised in order to be used for organ donation. Just to clarify, they're not clones of each other, so there's nothing weird going on there--it's like a standard coming-of-age story with the twist that everyone involved is meant to have their organs harvested at some point in the not-so-distant future. It was, therefore, completely devastating; it felt like it didn't matter if most clones died before they were thirty, because there probably wasn't much of a chance that they would have done anything interesting anyway. And, most of the chances for real, albeit fleeting, happiness were lost through misunderstandings and simple human failures. So in the end it didn't matter whether they were clones or not; the fact that they were all destined to be harvested was just a convenient plot device for Ishiguro to point out the frailty and doom of human existence.
That's not to say that the characters weren't important; by the end of the book, I cared about them quite a bit. It just ceased to matter that they were clones, or that something barbaric was being done to them in an alternate universe where cloning for organ replacement was somehow acceptable; instead, the barbarism was overshadowed by how truly awful humans usually are to each other, and how unlikely it is to find something healthier, and how we often put up with bad behavior from those around us because we don't know any better, or don't believe that we are capable of winning more for ourselves.
Anyway, I don't think the world's quite as bleak as all that; but, the book did make me wish that I was out living my life, exploring the windswept wilds of Mongolia, or eating dim sum in Hong Kong, or following ancient Incan roads through the Andes, or just sitting someplace writing all of the mystical visions that come into my head. Instead, I'm sitting in my comfortable bed, trying to decide between a 32" or 42" tv (yesterday's bonus makes it tempting to upgrade), and thinking about my 'career' and my 'long-term goals' and all that other corporate stuff that suddenly seems like the equivalent of passing time before I donate all my organs. My driver's license lists me as an organ donor, after all, so it's not that far-fetched (albeit a bit melodramatic) to feel that I'm just aimlessly kicking about until I get hit by a car and someone needs my kidneys. Ugh.
Okay, enough of that--but I highly recommend the book if you're looking for something beautiful and stirring and heartbreaking. The writing was some of the best I've read in a long time, the story was gripping, and the premise was intriguing. What more can you ask from a book? Now it's time for me to go to sleep, and hopefully I will dream of something other than clones.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
you ring just like a xylophone
Today was a fantastic day (so apologies in advance to my brother, in case you lost a kidney or something due to our inverse luck). I went to work, had some meetings, and then skipped out for a bit to have dim sum with Tammy. We went to the Hong Kong Flower Lounge, as we used to do every single weekend; it was just the two of us this time because Claude already had plans and Shedletsky wasn't responding to emails, but it was a great way to bid Tammy a fond farewell before she left for San Diego. We had all the old favorites - shrimp dumplings (aka shrimp families; the chinese name is 'har gar'), deep fried shrimp in bean curd, deep fried shrimp with mayonnaise, rice noodle with shrimp, steamed bean curd with pork and shrimp, and barbecue pork bun. The only thing we missed was the egg custard bun, but that was already a ton of food for the two of us, and the custard would have thrown me over the edge. As it was, I was struggling when I got back to work; I had a meeting as soon as I got back, and I was having trouble concentrating because I was on the verge of a shrimp coma; the symptoms of a shrimp coma are an overwhelming urge to rub one's belly and hum contentedly, right before falling asleep for a couple of hours. Alas, I had to stay awake, and it was v. difficult :(
But, seeing Tammy in our old favorite haunt was fun; I've really missed those weekend brunches, since my weekends don't really feel complete without a three-hour brunch extravaganza. I've had them for what feels like forever; Dad's Sunday brunches at home were some of the best parts of growing up, and when I got to Stanford, I continued the tradition by spending several hours at brunch each weekend day. This slid seamlessly into a weekly dim sum trek, followed by Sunday brunches at the Taj hotel in Hyderabad. It's only in the past six months that I've really lost the brunch experience, and I miss it terribly. I also miss Tammy, so it was fun to see her this past week. Yay for friends.
So, I wrapped up my meetings, and was going to skip the team meeting because I hadn't prepared for my writing class tonight, but two different people strongly encouraged me to go to the meeting despite that. I went to the meeting, and got a delicious surprise--they had previously announced that they would be giving out some bonus awards this quarter, and I ended up being one of the twelve people in my department to win the top level ('platinum') award. I didn't quite feel like I deserved it, because I felt like I was slacking tremendously this quarter, but I suppose anything would feel like slacking compared to the amount of work I was doing in Dublin. Now I can buy a lovely TV *and* go shopping to replenish my fall/winter wardrobe! This is key, since I'm going to start looking like a hobo at work if I keep wearing my oversize Irish sweaters, and the hobo look will not help my career trajectory.
After the meeting, I promptly left to go to Stanford for my creative writing class. I got there early enough to write out my critique of some other dude's story, and I was also able to read the assigned short story, so I was able to participate in class. I was really pleasantly surprised by tonight's session; the first session had left me feeling rather apprehensive about the rest of the class, because the people seemed rather uninteresting and incapable of writing, and the first meeting had been really unenergetic. Tonight, however, most people were making interesting points, and some of the read-aloud writing exercises were really good. That's not to say that I am currently interested in making friends there, but I'm much more excited about the rest of the class than I was last week. That's a good thing--I have to write a story for next week, and I have no idea what to write. Hopefully inspiration shall come to me this weekend.
I'm going to cap off this lovely day by crawling into bed and sleeping for ten hours...mmm. Goodnight!
But, seeing Tammy in our old favorite haunt was fun; I've really missed those weekend brunches, since my weekends don't really feel complete without a three-hour brunch extravaganza. I've had them for what feels like forever; Dad's Sunday brunches at home were some of the best parts of growing up, and when I got to Stanford, I continued the tradition by spending several hours at brunch each weekend day. This slid seamlessly into a weekly dim sum trek, followed by Sunday brunches at the Taj hotel in Hyderabad. It's only in the past six months that I've really lost the brunch experience, and I miss it terribly. I also miss Tammy, so it was fun to see her this past week. Yay for friends.
So, I wrapped up my meetings, and was going to skip the team meeting because I hadn't prepared for my writing class tonight, but two different people strongly encouraged me to go to the meeting despite that. I went to the meeting, and got a delicious surprise--they had previously announced that they would be giving out some bonus awards this quarter, and I ended up being one of the twelve people in my department to win the top level ('platinum') award. I didn't quite feel like I deserved it, because I felt like I was slacking tremendously this quarter, but I suppose anything would feel like slacking compared to the amount of work I was doing in Dublin. Now I can buy a lovely TV *and* go shopping to replenish my fall/winter wardrobe! This is key, since I'm going to start looking like a hobo at work if I keep wearing my oversize Irish sweaters, and the hobo look will not help my career trajectory.
After the meeting, I promptly left to go to Stanford for my creative writing class. I got there early enough to write out my critique of some other dude's story, and I was also able to read the assigned short story, so I was able to participate in class. I was really pleasantly surprised by tonight's session; the first session had left me feeling rather apprehensive about the rest of the class, because the people seemed rather uninteresting and incapable of writing, and the first meeting had been really unenergetic. Tonight, however, most people were making interesting points, and some of the read-aloud writing exercises were really good. That's not to say that I am currently interested in making friends there, but I'm much more excited about the rest of the class than I was last week. That's a good thing--I have to write a story for next week, and I have no idea what to write. Hopefully inspiration shall come to me this weekend.
I'm going to cap off this lovely day by crawling into bed and sleeping for ten hours...mmm. Goodnight!
Monday, October 02, 2006
wait...what's the sense in life?
I really wanted to write my romance novel tonight, but I just couldn't get into it. I should have gone to Starbucks--in fact, I had walked in the door before deciding that it was too cold and that I would rather write from home while wrapped in one of my oversized Irish sweaters. Mistake--I instead spent a couple of hours looking up peerages and British nobility successions on Wikipedia. Useless, I know, since everyone knows that a good romance novelist just makes up titles with reckless abandon, and I know enough about the nobility to be able to fake 95% of the book without doing any research at all. However, I did learn that there are lots and lots (relatively) of unmarried dukes, earls, or heirs to dukedoms and earldoms floating around, which was interesting. I may have to move to England and lie in wait for one of them, since I think I would be in a better frame of mind for romance novel writing if I was a duchess (or even a countess or marchioness--although I prefer 'marquesa' or 'marquise', but beggars can't be choosers).
So, tonight was frustrating, but rather than take my usual cure for frustration, I'm going to go to bed instead of staying up until four a.m. reading a book. I have a meeting at eight a.m. tomorrow, followed by a full day of activities, so I don't want to be tired and cranky. I still don't have my replacement contacts, so I look tired and cranky anyway, since I only wear my glasses when I'm tired and cranky, and I've now been wearing them for almost five days straight. Ugh.
All this talk about being tired and cranky is actually making me tired and cranky, so I should stop. In other news, I ordered bottled ink today from pendemonium.com; they're located in Fort Madison, Iowa, and so I could theoretically go to their real live store when I'm home, but Fort Madison is several hours away from my house, so ordering the ink online seems easiest. It's also riskier, since it's hard to trust ink reviews and online color swatches, so I'll just have to hope that colors like 'saguaro wine' and 'cyclamen rose' are as lovely as the purveyors claim that they are. I'm excited, though; bottled ink is clearly the next step down the path to complete and utter eccentricity, and this is one step that I am happy to embrace. By the end of the year, when I'm sitting in a cafe in a ridiculously large sweater, with vibrant ink stains on my hands and a generally disheveled appearance, I will have achieved my goal of appearing to be a crazy seventy-year-old. Yay.
Okay, that's all you get from me tonight; I'm going to bed. Not that my bed is particularly subdued either, since the current bedspread is a warm orange color, and the fabric is covered in tiny mirrors. It's luscious. As you can tell, I can't wait to be an eccentric old woman; then, all of my strange tendencies will be seen as lovably acceptable, rather than dangerous character flaws that render me unattractive to the vast majority of my male counterparts.
Actually, Tammy and Shedletsky were trying to convince me last night that it's a good idea to post a personals ad on Craigslist looking for someone who is willing to dress up as a Scottish earl--the personal could include language as 'ownership of a velvet cloak and command of Scottish brogue a plus'. I don't think that this will get me exactly the type of guy that I want, but you never know. Tonight is not the night for me to write that particular ad, though; it will require several years of complete and utter boredom before I reach that point. Goodnight!
So, tonight was frustrating, but rather than take my usual cure for frustration, I'm going to go to bed instead of staying up until four a.m. reading a book. I have a meeting at eight a.m. tomorrow, followed by a full day of activities, so I don't want to be tired and cranky. I still don't have my replacement contacts, so I look tired and cranky anyway, since I only wear my glasses when I'm tired and cranky, and I've now been wearing them for almost five days straight. Ugh.
All this talk about being tired and cranky is actually making me tired and cranky, so I should stop. In other news, I ordered bottled ink today from pendemonium.com; they're located in Fort Madison, Iowa, and so I could theoretically go to their real live store when I'm home, but Fort Madison is several hours away from my house, so ordering the ink online seems easiest. It's also riskier, since it's hard to trust ink reviews and online color swatches, so I'll just have to hope that colors like 'saguaro wine' and 'cyclamen rose' are as lovely as the purveyors claim that they are. I'm excited, though; bottled ink is clearly the next step down the path to complete and utter eccentricity, and this is one step that I am happy to embrace. By the end of the year, when I'm sitting in a cafe in a ridiculously large sweater, with vibrant ink stains on my hands and a generally disheveled appearance, I will have achieved my goal of appearing to be a crazy seventy-year-old. Yay.
Okay, that's all you get from me tonight; I'm going to bed. Not that my bed is particularly subdued either, since the current bedspread is a warm orange color, and the fabric is covered in tiny mirrors. It's luscious. As you can tell, I can't wait to be an eccentric old woman; then, all of my strange tendencies will be seen as lovably acceptable, rather than dangerous character flaws that render me unattractive to the vast majority of my male counterparts.
Actually, Tammy and Shedletsky were trying to convince me last night that it's a good idea to post a personals ad on Craigslist looking for someone who is willing to dress up as a Scottish earl--the personal could include language as 'ownership of a velvet cloak and command of Scottish brogue a plus'. I don't think that this will get me exactly the type of guy that I want, but you never know. Tonight is not the night for me to write that particular ad, though; it will require several years of complete and utter boredom before I reach that point. Goodnight!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
if we're gonna make it then we're halfway there
First off, happy v. belated birthday to my sister, who turned an age that it is not delicate to print here on Thursday--I wasn't able to call because I was in training all day and then had to run to the first meeting of my writing class, which didn't get out until after nine p.m. (eleven p.m. in Iowa). Apologies, but I hope it was a good one!!
To the rest of you, I'm sorry that I haven't written in ages. Tammy came up Thursday night to stay with me for a week, and it's been great to see her, but this has put a small kink in my traditional blogging pattern since I'm typically ready to collapse by the time I finally go to sleep. We stayed up and did some catching up Thursday night; I worked all day Friday; we had dinner with Claudia Friday night; I spent most of yesterday cleaning my kitchen/bathroom, having brunch with Lauren, making potato/leek soup, and reading a romance novel; and I spent most of today sleeping in, followed by working on my own romance novel.
For those of you who have been intermitently checking the romance blog, be forewarned that I'm not going to update it anymore (and in fact am going to delete it)--I want to sell my novel, and I don't want the blog to jeopardize that. You'll just have to wait for it to come out in paperback! But, after my quick but v. productive writing session at Starbucks this afternoon, I am one chapter (3600 words) closer to finishing it. If only I could make myself sit down and write every night, I would be done in no time--so I'm setting a goal to finish my novel in October. Whether that will happen remains to be seen, but I've plotted it out so comprehensively that it should be possible.
After coming home, I talked to my parents, and then met Shedletsky for dinner. Tammy was 1.5 hours late for dinner (no surprise there), so Shedletsky and I had bruschetta, followed by mussels, and caught up with each other while waiting for Tammy. Once she arrived, we had main courses and coffee, and then loitered on California Ave. for half an hour, feeling like the hooligans that we most certainly weren't. After seeing both of them together, it felt like all was right with the world; or, if it was still wrong, it was wrong in the right kind of insane way, if that makes any sense.
Now I need to go to bed, so that I can begin the work week anew. Yippee. Goodnight everyone!
To the rest of you, I'm sorry that I haven't written in ages. Tammy came up Thursday night to stay with me for a week, and it's been great to see her, but this has put a small kink in my traditional blogging pattern since I'm typically ready to collapse by the time I finally go to sleep. We stayed up and did some catching up Thursday night; I worked all day Friday; we had dinner with Claudia Friday night; I spent most of yesterday cleaning my kitchen/bathroom, having brunch with Lauren, making potato/leek soup, and reading a romance novel; and I spent most of today sleeping in, followed by working on my own romance novel.
For those of you who have been intermitently checking the romance blog, be forewarned that I'm not going to update it anymore (and in fact am going to delete it)--I want to sell my novel, and I don't want the blog to jeopardize that. You'll just have to wait for it to come out in paperback! But, after my quick but v. productive writing session at Starbucks this afternoon, I am one chapter (3600 words) closer to finishing it. If only I could make myself sit down and write every night, I would be done in no time--so I'm setting a goal to finish my novel in October. Whether that will happen remains to be seen, but I've plotted it out so comprehensively that it should be possible.
After coming home, I talked to my parents, and then met Shedletsky for dinner. Tammy was 1.5 hours late for dinner (no surprise there), so Shedletsky and I had bruschetta, followed by mussels, and caught up with each other while waiting for Tammy. Once she arrived, we had main courses and coffee, and then loitered on California Ave. for half an hour, feeling like the hooligans that we most certainly weren't. After seeing both of them together, it felt like all was right with the world; or, if it was still wrong, it was wrong in the right kind of insane way, if that makes any sense.
Now I need to go to bed, so that I can begin the work week anew. Yippee. Goodnight everyone!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
we were meant to live for so much more
[editors's note: this was supposed to post last night, but there was a problem with blogger]
I need to stop reading books about characters confronting their destinies--they just make me unhappy, because then I start panicking when I think about my own situation and the fact that life doesn't wait for you to figure out what to do with it. I actually like what I do at work, and find it interesting, and have every reason to be perfectly satisfied with it, and I accomplish a lot and am making serious progress with my career, etc. But, I have this lurking sense that I should be doing something else, that my fate (or my overactive ego/subconscious/whatever) demands a different path...and so when I'm reminded of that (such as when I read a book about confronting destiny), I suddenly become achingly unhappy with the pain of wanting something that I cannot quantify or name.
The longing to do something else is sometimes unbearably strong--like the strange urges I get to chop off all my hair, or move to a foreign country, or drive too fast through the foothills. All of my moves in the past year and a half have been triggered by this desire to do something wildly different from what I'm currently doing; yet in all cases, it was just a substitute for doing something that would actually get me closer to my destiny. It's like I keep choosing things that seem like what I should do (because they're hard/challenging) rather than what would be easy to do (because it may be my destiny). I don't know why I'm avoiding it almost as hard as I'm trying to embrace it, but I always avoid what feels right in favor of what feels difficult. I played the flute and piano growing up, even though my mouth was exactly the wrong shape for flute and my hands were too small to progress to octave playing; I chose SymSys for all the wrong reasons; I work in a field that I've never really felt passion for; and to be honest, even though I've never said it before, I think I would have liked Boston better and sometimes wish that I had gone to Harvard instead, even though I've loved Stanford and don't regret coming here.
Anyway, this won't be resolved tonight, and the regret that is clawing at my heart will eventually subside again into a dull throbbing that barely reminds me of its presence while I go about my successful daily life. Sleep will help; I always feel a bit ragged after a couple of days of early conference calls and late meetings, and so tomorrow should be better. I also have my first creative writing class tomorrow, and by the time I get home, Tammy will be here to stay with me for a week--and so life will be too fun for regrets. Yay.
I need to stop reading books about characters confronting their destinies--they just make me unhappy, because then I start panicking when I think about my own situation and the fact that life doesn't wait for you to figure out what to do with it. I actually like what I do at work, and find it interesting, and have every reason to be perfectly satisfied with it, and I accomplish a lot and am making serious progress with my career, etc. But, I have this lurking sense that I should be doing something else, that my fate (or my overactive ego/subconscious/whatever) demands a different path...and so when I'm reminded of that (such as when I read a book about confronting destiny), I suddenly become achingly unhappy with the pain of wanting something that I cannot quantify or name.
The longing to do something else is sometimes unbearably strong--like the strange urges I get to chop off all my hair, or move to a foreign country, or drive too fast through the foothills. All of my moves in the past year and a half have been triggered by this desire to do something wildly different from what I'm currently doing; yet in all cases, it was just a substitute for doing something that would actually get me closer to my destiny. It's like I keep choosing things that seem like what I should do (because they're hard/challenging) rather than what would be easy to do (because it may be my destiny). I don't know why I'm avoiding it almost as hard as I'm trying to embrace it, but I always avoid what feels right in favor of what feels difficult. I played the flute and piano growing up, even though my mouth was exactly the wrong shape for flute and my hands were too small to progress to octave playing; I chose SymSys for all the wrong reasons; I work in a field that I've never really felt passion for; and to be honest, even though I've never said it before, I think I would have liked Boston better and sometimes wish that I had gone to Harvard instead, even though I've loved Stanford and don't regret coming here.
Anyway, this won't be resolved tonight, and the regret that is clawing at my heart will eventually subside again into a dull throbbing that barely reminds me of its presence while I go about my successful daily life. Sleep will help; I always feel a bit ragged after a couple of days of early conference calls and late meetings, and so tomorrow should be better. I also have my first creative writing class tomorrow, and by the time I get home, Tammy will be here to stay with me for a week--and so life will be too fun for regrets. Yay.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
what a concept...i could use a little fuel myself, and we could all use a little change
When I was in Iowa last week, I had lunch with my parents at Sharon's, the oft-discussed tavern in the back of the American Legion hall, where the menus are written on posterboard and tacked to the fake-wood-panelling walls, the main decorations are flourescent beer lights, and the waitress is charmingly obnoxious (although she is much-provoked by my father, so I can't blame her). I had never noticed the 'vegetable burger' on the menu before, but this time I did, and I commented to my parents that Sharon probably didn't sell many vegetable burgers, given the lack of vegetarians in the county. It was then that I learned that 'vegetable burger' does not mean 'fake burger made of vegetables'; instead, it means 'burger with vegetables' (in this case, lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion). This actually makes a lot of sense; cheeseburgers, bbq bacon burgers, bacon bacon cheeseburgers, avocado burgers, etc., all denote what ingredients are included with the burger. Then again, a hamburger isn't made of ham, so perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about. The moral of this story, though, is if you are a vegetarian and you come to visit me in Iowa, you might want to bring your own entrees, since you won't find any substantial food in the restaurants in my hometown. Unless, that is, you can subsist on cheeseballs and breaded mushrooms, or french fries and iceberg-lettuce salads. Mmm.
I wasn't feeling well this morning, so I slept in and got to the office around 10:30. I more than made up for it by staying there until 11:30pm (with a break from 6:30-7:30 to run home, change into comfy jeans rather than my professional-seeming skirt, and grab some dinner). I have to be in the office by eight tomorrow, so I suppose I should go to bed. Hopefully I can get all caught up on my work this week so that I can have more free time starting next week; I am thinking about my romance novel all the time right now, and I want to strike while the proverbial iron is hot.
I leave you with the happy thought that, now that I have finished all travel for the foreseeable future, the TSA has lifted some of the bans on liquids, creams, and gels on airplanes. Look for another elevated threat level in December, since I'll be on my way home for Christmas then, but you can expect safe skies for the next few weeks. Lucky you!
I wasn't feeling well this morning, so I slept in and got to the office around 10:30. I more than made up for it by staying there until 11:30pm (with a break from 6:30-7:30 to run home, change into comfy jeans rather than my professional-seeming skirt, and grab some dinner). I have to be in the office by eight tomorrow, so I suppose I should go to bed. Hopefully I can get all caught up on my work this week so that I can have more free time starting next week; I am thinking about my romance novel all the time right now, and I want to strike while the proverbial iron is hot.
I leave you with the happy thought that, now that I have finished all travel for the foreseeable future, the TSA has lifted some of the bans on liquids, creams, and gels on airplanes. Look for another elevated threat level in December, since I'll be on my way home for Christmas then, but you can expect safe skies for the next few weeks. Lucky you!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
for better or for worse
Is it a bad sign that my toes are still numb from standing around in my uncomfortable three-inch heels for eleven hours yesterday?
I'm back in California, after an uneventful flight that I was fortunate to make, given how much packing I had to do this morning. Yesterday was extremely fun, but I don't really feel like blogging right now. What I *do* feel like doing is writing my romance novel, but I think I should go to bed instead--I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow and hundreds of email messages to wade through, so I can't slack my way through my first day back in the office. But, you can see a few pictures from the wedding (as well as some random pictures from other activities this summer) below--and express your thanks to Katie for picking dress colors that match the scheme of my blog :)
Bedtime now, but I shall probably feel more talkative after a restorative ten hours of sleep. Goodnight!
I'm back in California, after an uneventful flight that I was fortunate to make, given how much packing I had to do this morning. Yesterday was extremely fun, but I don't really feel like blogging right now. What I *do* feel like doing is writing my romance novel, but I think I should go to bed instead--I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow and hundreds of email messages to wade through, so I can't slack my way through my first day back in the office. But, you can see a few pictures from the wedding (as well as some random pictures from other activities this summer) below--and express your thanks to Katie for picking dress colors that match the scheme of my blog :)
Bedtime now, but I shall probably feel more talkative after a restorative ten hours of sleep. Goodnight!
Saturday, September 23, 2006
twist and shout
I'm exhausted, but I began to fear that a continued hiatus in posting might lead to a loss of my loyal fanbase. I spent eleven hours on three-inch glittery heels, trussed up in a corsetted dress that did wonders for my posture even if I was concerned about breathing too deeply...and it was all wonderful. Katie got married today, and the whole day was lovely; unfortunately I'm now running on fumes, since I spent last night with her after spending the day at a bridal tea/luncheon, the wedding rehearsal, and the rehearsal dinner (where her grandmother plied me with margaritas--that grandma can hold her tequila!). It was great to have one last night to convince her to run away with me instead of marrying James--I failed :( But, since we spent too much time talking, we slept for less than six hours, and I rolled out of there at seven to come home, take a shower, fix up my hair, grab my dress, and meet her at her hair stylist's to give her moral (morale?) support.
I can give a better recap of the wedding in the coming days--I have a couple of pics on my camera that I can post, and there are things that are worth sharing, but I *must* go to bed. I have to arise at seven tomorrow morning as well, since I have to finish packing and leave for the airport by nine. By tomorrow night, I'll be back in California! Then, it's business as usual, and those of you who live there should expect to see some of the truly awful movies coming out in the fall lineup. On those pleasant thoughts, I wish you sweet dreams--goodnight!
I can give a better recap of the wedding in the coming days--I have a couple of pics on my camera that I can post, and there are things that are worth sharing, but I *must* go to bed. I have to arise at seven tomorrow morning as well, since I have to finish packing and leave for the airport by nine. By tomorrow night, I'll be back in California! Then, it's business as usual, and those of you who live there should expect to see some of the truly awful movies coming out in the fall lineup. On those pleasant thoughts, I wish you sweet dreams--goodnight!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
do you especially think i'm not a genius?
Today was a usual day in small-town Iowa; I woke up late, watched part of 'The Young and the Restless', took a shower, dolled up my hair and makeup--and spent a bit of extra time on it when I realized that I only have to make it three more years to *not* fulfill my senior prophesy. Some bitch on the senior yearbook committee wrote nice or at least normal prophesies for everyone in my class, but my prophesy would be that I would drop out of Stanford, move to Mexico, marry a goat farmer, and live in a barn, barefoot, with our four kids. Needless to say I was pissed, but the whole dropping out of Stanford thing didn't happen, and I don't think the four kids will happen either. Revenge was mine, of course, since she's not married to the guy she prophesied she would end up with, nor is she happily employed in Colorado; instead she's got two kids by two different fathers, and I believe neither of them is known. I shouldn't be happy about that. In fact, I'm rather apathetic about it. But, anyway, I digress.
So after cleaning myself up and donning my Versace sunglasses, thus becoming exactly the snob that my brother has accused me of being (but a snob with a heart of gold!), I went into town with my mother and had a lovely lunch at one of the two restaurants we always go to when I'm home. My father joined us a bit later, and I got to order cheeseballs--I only can get them here, since they haven't exactly taken California by storm. They're not the Cheetos-style cheesepuff variety; they're deep-fried balls of processed cheddar cheese. Mmm. My parents are clearly regulars, since the waitress knew to bring out an iced tea when she heard my father was coming. There were clearly other regulars there as well, as evidenced by the fact that a seventy-year-old man went back to sexually harass (jokingly, or at least non-threateningly) the waitress and she threatened to rip him some extra nose-holes with the oxygen tubes currently hooked up to his face. Ha!
The rest of the day was uneventful; I spent a bit of time on the phone with someone from work, and also spent a lot of time trying to plot out more of my romance novel. I'm backtracking a bit before starting again; I had started it during the National Novel Writing Month (two years ago! damn!) and didn't take a lot of time to plot then, but I wanted to do some character development before picking up the story again, since I feel that I don't know my characters well enough to write really effective or believable dialogue. Also, I like writing with a fountain pen in a lovely journal, but I don't want to write the whole book like that--scribbling down my character thoughts seems like a nice compromise.
My vacation is just flying by--tomorrow I have to spend cleaning up the detritus of my childhood so that my parents will have an easier time moving the contents of my room to the new house, and then I have wedding stuff on Friday in preparation for the actual ceremony on Saturday. Then, I go back to California! Sheesh. Too bad there's no beach here, and also too bad it's flippin' cold--I'm not used to taking vacations in non-warm, non-exotic locations :) Then again, with the amount of wildlife near the roads, this occasionally feels exotic--I'm probably in more danger of getting killed by an animal here than I was on that safari in South Africa, although I think I would rather have the drama of getting eaten by a lion over the mundane alternative of dying in a deer-induced car accident. Goodnight!
So after cleaning myself up and donning my Versace sunglasses, thus becoming exactly the snob that my brother has accused me of being (but a snob with a heart of gold!), I went into town with my mother and had a lovely lunch at one of the two restaurants we always go to when I'm home. My father joined us a bit later, and I got to order cheeseballs--I only can get them here, since they haven't exactly taken California by storm. They're not the Cheetos-style cheesepuff variety; they're deep-fried balls of processed cheddar cheese. Mmm. My parents are clearly regulars, since the waitress knew to bring out an iced tea when she heard my father was coming. There were clearly other regulars there as well, as evidenced by the fact that a seventy-year-old man went back to sexually harass (jokingly, or at least non-threateningly) the waitress and she threatened to rip him some extra nose-holes with the oxygen tubes currently hooked up to his face. Ha!
The rest of the day was uneventful; I spent a bit of time on the phone with someone from work, and also spent a lot of time trying to plot out more of my romance novel. I'm backtracking a bit before starting again; I had started it during the National Novel Writing Month (two years ago! damn!) and didn't take a lot of time to plot then, but I wanted to do some character development before picking up the story again, since I feel that I don't know my characters well enough to write really effective or believable dialogue. Also, I like writing with a fountain pen in a lovely journal, but I don't want to write the whole book like that--scribbling down my character thoughts seems like a nice compromise.
My vacation is just flying by--tomorrow I have to spend cleaning up the detritus of my childhood so that my parents will have an easier time moving the contents of my room to the new house, and then I have wedding stuff on Friday in preparation for the actual ceremony on Saturday. Then, I go back to California! Sheesh. Too bad there's no beach here, and also too bad it's flippin' cold--I'm not used to taking vacations in non-warm, non-exotic locations :) Then again, with the amount of wildlife near the roads, this occasionally feels exotic--I'm probably in more danger of getting killed by an animal here than I was on that safari in South Africa, although I think I would rather have the drama of getting eaten by a lion over the mundane alternative of dying in a deer-induced car accident. Goodnight!
Monday, September 18, 2006
magic man
I'm in Iowa, home of my forefathers. I arrived on Saturday, after an exhausting journey marked by too little sleep and too much time spent on the shopping concourse of the Minneapolis/St.Paul International Airport. I had a fun time from 7-8am watching the woman working at The Body Shop explaining to all of her potential customers that she couldn't sell them anything in liquid, gel, or cream form--needless to say, she wasn't doing much business. I also bought a pair of sunglasses, and had breakfast at a restaurant; my layover was over four hours, which was frustrating, but somehow strangely relaxing. When I arrived in Des Moines, I went shopping with my parents, had a late lunch with them at our favorite restaurant (where the bar was playing the Iowa/Iowa State game, our big intrastate rivalry--the Cyclones lost tragically, much to the excitement of half the waitstaff and the chagrin of my family and the rest of the waitstaff), then came home.
Yesterday, my mom cooked an extreme amount of food for a joint birthday party for me and my sister. Then, I tried on my dress for Katie's wedding, which barely fit after my double helpings of ham, baked beans, scalloped potatoes, and lemon cake--but the dress fit like a glove when I tried it on this morning, so the stomach distension was apparently temporary. After my sister and her family left, I spent the rest of the afternoon napping. Yay!
Today, I went to a seamstress to get the dress shortened, spent the afternoon pretending that I was going to get up an accomplish something (but instead catching up on the soaps and watching Dr. Phil and Oprah), and then had dinner with my grandmother. You know you're back in Iowa when you can go out for dinner, both people can have chicken strips, baked potatoes, and iced tea, and the total for both people comes out at ~$12. I can easily spend that much on just myself for a meal out in California. Anyway, I came home, watched 'CSI: Miami' with my parents, and then played my gameboy.
It seems that I've completely reverted to my teen years--compensating for a lack of friends by spending too much time watching CBS and drinking tea. Actually, I had friends in high school, but none of them are here anymore--and when they were here, we didn't start hanging out a lot until I had a car, so the first couple of years of high school were characterized by a lot of 'Walker: Texas Ranger'. Yes, I watched his show before he was a cult icon...and I'm proud of it!
My vacation is going to go waaaaay too fast--it's not as relaxing as sleeping on a beach, but it's nice to see my family. Also, apologies for the lack of communication--my parents are having issues with their internet connection. Now, it's time for me to go to bed!
Yesterday, my mom cooked an extreme amount of food for a joint birthday party for me and my sister. Then, I tried on my dress for Katie's wedding, which barely fit after my double helpings of ham, baked beans, scalloped potatoes, and lemon cake--but the dress fit like a glove when I tried it on this morning, so the stomach distension was apparently temporary. After my sister and her family left, I spent the rest of the afternoon napping. Yay!
Today, I went to a seamstress to get the dress shortened, spent the afternoon pretending that I was going to get up an accomplish something (but instead catching up on the soaps and watching Dr. Phil and Oprah), and then had dinner with my grandmother. You know you're back in Iowa when you can go out for dinner, both people can have chicken strips, baked potatoes, and iced tea, and the total for both people comes out at ~$12. I can easily spend that much on just myself for a meal out in California. Anyway, I came home, watched 'CSI: Miami' with my parents, and then played my gameboy.
It seems that I've completely reverted to my teen years--compensating for a lack of friends by spending too much time watching CBS and drinking tea. Actually, I had friends in high school, but none of them are here anymore--and when they were here, we didn't start hanging out a lot until I had a car, so the first couple of years of high school were characterized by a lot of 'Walker: Texas Ranger'. Yes, I watched his show before he was a cult icon...and I'm proud of it!
My vacation is going to go waaaaay too fast--it's not as relaxing as sleeping on a beach, but it's nice to see my family. Also, apologies for the lack of communication--my parents are having issues with their internet connection. Now, it's time for me to go to bed!
Friday, September 15, 2006
strange fruit from a forbidden tree
So, my birthday week (yes, I can drag my birthday across an entire week) has been relatively boring. That's been mostly my own fault; I haven't particularly felt like making lots of plans because I've been stressed about work, and I'm leaving tomorrow night for a sojourn in the land of my lost youth (a phrase that I continue to use with shameless abandon). So, I've done nothing more substantial than work, sleep, and read a bit to take my mind off work. I picked up a copy of 'The Areas of My Expertise' by John Hodgman, and I read about a third of it tonight--I had seen the author on 'The Daily Show' last fall, and thought he was hysterical, but the book had languished in my Amazon 'things to buy later' cart until I bought it on impulse while ordering the second season of 'Lost'. You can tell it's my kind of book--in his description of the states, he claims that Iowa is 'The Hobo State'. I've never been happier.
Let's go to the mailbag...
9/12/2006 ('happy birthday to me') comments:
Beaver Creek, Co. said...
As mentioned in the phone message - when you get to IA, you will receive a birthday gift(s) that will make your friends envious. You will be proud. Very proud. It meets all appropriate requirements - pink, utilitarian, ridiculous, of display quality, etc. Guesses will be entertained. But my PC access is questionable at this time.
Editor's response: I mentioned this to Vidya, and her exact response was:
'Vidya: IT'S A PUPPY
!!!!!!!!!
I AM JEALOUS!
MAN, I LOWE PUPPIES'
I really hope it's not a puppy. I have no idea what it is, but if it's a pink, display-quality (which probably means lapdog-sized) puppy, I'm not going to be thrilled.
felicia said...
70 is a little young to be in a nursing home, don't you think? why not shoot for 90? happy birthday, sara!!!
Editor's note: aim low and you won't be disappointed.
9/11/2006 ('look into your heart') comments:
Sammi said...
youre not that old aunt sara but i can see how u feel old considering your oldest neice is a FRESHMAN in highschool...remeber those days?
Editor's note: that doesn't seem possible. In fact, I refuse to believe that it's true. If I never come home again, I can believe that my nieces and nephew are pre-teens forever.
8/31/2006 ('don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say') comments:
Alan said...
It seems the Talbott family is bad news for restaurants. Years ago we ate at a place on the pier in Santa Barbara - up in flames the next week!
Editor's note: I'm not surprised by this--Walter could start a fire MacGyver-style with a piece of twine and some shards of glass, so it stands to reason that the combined powers of his family could result in a build-up of combustibility to the point of spontaneous ignition, even without twine or glass.
Okay, that's it for the mailbag and this post--goodnight, everyone!
Let's go to the mailbag...
9/12/2006 ('happy birthday to me') comments:
Beaver Creek, Co. said...
As mentioned in the phone message - when you get to IA, you will receive a birthday gift(s) that will make your friends envious. You will be proud. Very proud. It meets all appropriate requirements - pink, utilitarian, ridiculous, of display quality, etc. Guesses will be entertained. But my PC access is questionable at this time.
Editor's response: I mentioned this to Vidya, and her exact response was:
'Vidya: IT'S A PUPPY
!!!!!!!!!
I AM JEALOUS!
MAN, I LOWE PUPPIES'
I really hope it's not a puppy. I have no idea what it is, but if it's a pink, display-quality (which probably means lapdog-sized) puppy, I'm not going to be thrilled.
felicia said...
70 is a little young to be in a nursing home, don't you think? why not shoot for 90? happy birthday, sara!!!
Editor's note: aim low and you won't be disappointed.
9/11/2006 ('look into your heart') comments:
Sammi said...
youre not that old aunt sara but i can see how u feel old considering your oldest neice is a FRESHMAN in highschool...remeber those days?
Editor's note: that doesn't seem possible. In fact, I refuse to believe that it's true. If I never come home again, I can believe that my nieces and nephew are pre-teens forever.
8/31/2006 ('don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say') comments:
Alan said...
It seems the Talbott family is bad news for restaurants. Years ago we ate at a place on the pier in Santa Barbara - up in flames the next week!
Editor's note: I'm not surprised by this--Walter could start a fire MacGyver-style with a piece of twine and some shards of glass, so it stands to reason that the combined powers of his family could result in a build-up of combustibility to the point of spontaneous ignition, even without twine or glass.
Okay, that's it for the mailbag and this post--goodnight, everyone!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
happy birthday to me
My birthday/the national day of mourning is officially over, and we can all return to our regularly-scheduled lives. I'm glad that I'll hit all of my milestone birthdays on milestone anniversaries of 9/11--I'll turn 30 on the 10th anniversary, 40 on the 20th, etc. Hopefully I'll be one of those really cranky, obnoxious seniors, so that when I'm 70, I can make nasty jokes about the twin towers while the staff at my nursing home is trying to get us to make 50th anniversary collages or some shit.
Today was nice, albeit tame; I didn't clean up my kitchen tonight because I went out for an unexpected dinner with Terry and Claudia, and then had to work when I got home, so my kitchen is quickly turning into a biohazard. I have to clean tomorrow before I end up with cockroaches, mice, or other vermin--nothing drives me crazier than a dirty kitchen, so I shall overcome all of this tomorrow. Now, though, I should go to bed, since I have a conference call in five hours. Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone!
Today was nice, albeit tame; I didn't clean up my kitchen tonight because I went out for an unexpected dinner with Terry and Claudia, and then had to work when I got home, so my kitchen is quickly turning into a biohazard. I have to clean tomorrow before I end up with cockroaches, mice, or other vermin--nothing drives me crazier than a dirty kitchen, so I shall overcome all of this tomorrow. Now, though, I should go to bed, since I have a conference call in five hours. Thanks for the birthday wishes, everyone!
Monday, September 11, 2006
look into your heart - you will find there's nothing left to hide
From CNN.com tonight: 'President Bush and other top officials joined thousands gathered across the country Sunday in tearful tributes, prayers and quiet reflection on the eve of the fifth anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks.'
Clearly they didn't get the memo about my birthday party.
Actually, it wasn't that raucous; it's hard to get too raucous on a Sunday afternoon, especially since I'm taking pains with my apartment to make it more grown-up (some mementos from college notwithstanding--the catfish, Prom King, and the hordes of romance novels are hardly adultlike, but I'm trying). But, most of my favorite people who were in the area showed up, and fun was had by all. No one had a heart attack on my premises, so hopefully this means that I will not be subject to a class-action lawsuit from my friends in the near future. Verdicts on the food:
1) The devilled eggs, corn casserole, spinach artichoke dip, and potato salad were all enjoyed, but were too standard to merit a lot of excitement.
2) The baked beans won quite a few converts to my mother's recipe; in fact, several people put them on top of their maidrites, which was a stunning innovation. Mine weren't quite the same as hers (I cooked mine with the lid on--was I supposed to?) but they were v. close and v. delicious. I'm going to eat them for dinner tomorrow night too! I bought some potato chips special for that occasion.
3) The maidrites (aka sloppy joes) were a hit with the nonvegetarians in the audience--particularly the one kid who was born in Minnesota, and the excitement when he heard that they were there was so visible on his face that everyone else laughed in stunned amazement. However, when I mentioned that they are also occasionally called 'loose meat sandwiches', some of my raunchier friends turned the conversation to decidedly-non-family-safe venues.
4) The chocolate chip chewies were devoured, but not at the rate I anticipated, which means I had an entire pan left over--I sent a bunch home with Claude and Vidya, and will take some to work tomorrow so that I don't end up eating them all (which I'm definitely capable of--I made them, so I can vouch for their ingredients, but they're so addictive that I'm sure fairies must be smuggling cocaine into the flour).
5) The Indian flag jello salad (which my family may recognize in the more familiar guise of Christmas ribbon salad, although I replaced the red layer with an orange layer) didn't set properly--I don't know what I did wrong! But, the jello salad was more for shock value anyway, so I don't care.
6) The strawberry shortcake was the sleeper hit of the party--and everyone was willing to try, and subsequently won over by, the idea of putting half and half on their strawberry shortcake. Mmm. I love strawberry shortcake so much, and these were perfect, especially w/the fresh strawberries I bought this morning, so it was fantastic.
7) The funfetti birthday cake wasn't even cut into, since we were too busy stuffing ourselves with strawberry shortcake--so I'll have to take it to work tomorrow.
Anyway, moral of the story is that I should have invited more people--there were people from work that I would have invited, but I didn't think I would have room. In actuality, no one even sat on the patio, so if the party had gotten bigger it probably would have split--and there would have been more people to eat the food and spread the cholesterol around. Oh, well, next time I'll change things up a bit.
My birthday party was fantastic, but I'm also glad it's over--as you can tell, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen the last two days, and after I clean up tomorrow, I'll want a break for a couple of days. Tonight was lovely, though, especially with the mix of oldest friends, newer-but-still-old friends, and friends from India. Also, Claudia stayed after everyone else took off, and we drank tea and caught up for a couple of hours--I hadn't seen her since before I left for Seattle, which feels like ages ago, since she was on the east coast all last week. So, all is well in my world again.
It's officially my birthday, and I'll be officially 25 in less than six hours (Iowa time--my birth time was 8:11am). Ugh. Haha. 25 isn't that bad, but then again every day is one step closer to the grave, so it's not like 25 is swell either. I'm going to go to bed now, and when I wake up I'll be old! Happy 9/11, everyone.
Clearly they didn't get the memo about my birthday party.
Actually, it wasn't that raucous; it's hard to get too raucous on a Sunday afternoon, especially since I'm taking pains with my apartment to make it more grown-up (some mementos from college notwithstanding--the catfish, Prom King, and the hordes of romance novels are hardly adultlike, but I'm trying). But, most of my favorite people who were in the area showed up, and fun was had by all. No one had a heart attack on my premises, so hopefully this means that I will not be subject to a class-action lawsuit from my friends in the near future. Verdicts on the food:
1) The devilled eggs, corn casserole, spinach artichoke dip, and potato salad were all enjoyed, but were too standard to merit a lot of excitement.
2) The baked beans won quite a few converts to my mother's recipe; in fact, several people put them on top of their maidrites, which was a stunning innovation. Mine weren't quite the same as hers (I cooked mine with the lid on--was I supposed to?) but they were v. close and v. delicious. I'm going to eat them for dinner tomorrow night too! I bought some potato chips special for that occasion.
3) The maidrites (aka sloppy joes) were a hit with the nonvegetarians in the audience--particularly the one kid who was born in Minnesota, and the excitement when he heard that they were there was so visible on his face that everyone else laughed in stunned amazement. However, when I mentioned that they are also occasionally called 'loose meat sandwiches', some of my raunchier friends turned the conversation to decidedly-non-family-safe venues.
4) The chocolate chip chewies were devoured, but not at the rate I anticipated, which means I had an entire pan left over--I sent a bunch home with Claude and Vidya, and will take some to work tomorrow so that I don't end up eating them all (which I'm definitely capable of--I made them, so I can vouch for their ingredients, but they're so addictive that I'm sure fairies must be smuggling cocaine into the flour).
5) The Indian flag jello salad (which my family may recognize in the more familiar guise of Christmas ribbon salad, although I replaced the red layer with an orange layer) didn't set properly--I don't know what I did wrong! But, the jello salad was more for shock value anyway, so I don't care.
6) The strawberry shortcake was the sleeper hit of the party--and everyone was willing to try, and subsequently won over by, the idea of putting half and half on their strawberry shortcake. Mmm. I love strawberry shortcake so much, and these were perfect, especially w/the fresh strawberries I bought this morning, so it was fantastic.
7) The funfetti birthday cake wasn't even cut into, since we were too busy stuffing ourselves with strawberry shortcake--so I'll have to take it to work tomorrow.
Anyway, moral of the story is that I should have invited more people--there were people from work that I would have invited, but I didn't think I would have room. In actuality, no one even sat on the patio, so if the party had gotten bigger it probably would have split--and there would have been more people to eat the food and spread the cholesterol around. Oh, well, next time I'll change things up a bit.
My birthday party was fantastic, but I'm also glad it's over--as you can tell, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen the last two days, and after I clean up tomorrow, I'll want a break for a couple of days. Tonight was lovely, though, especially with the mix of oldest friends, newer-but-still-old friends, and friends from India. Also, Claudia stayed after everyone else took off, and we drank tea and caught up for a couple of hours--I hadn't seen her since before I left for Seattle, which feels like ages ago, since she was on the east coast all last week. So, all is well in my world again.
It's officially my birthday, and I'll be officially 25 in less than six hours (Iowa time--my birth time was 8:11am). Ugh. Haha. 25 isn't that bad, but then again every day is one step closer to the grave, so it's not like 25 is swell either. I'm going to go to bed now, and when I wake up I'll be old! Happy 9/11, everyone.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
yes i am spectacular
Sorry for the hiatus--I've been busy, and therefore tired, and therefore not willing to forsake an extra ten minutes of sleep at the end of a hectic day in order to blog about said day. I should be going to bed immediately, but I felt like writing, and the constant urge to blog finally superseded the equally-constant urge to sleep.
I'm gearing up for my party tomorrow; my shopping list included:
3 pints sour cream
3 8oz. packages cream cheese
2 cans whole-kernal corn
2 cans creamed corn
2 boxes jiffy cornbread mix
3 packages butter
2 packages chocolate chips
2 10oz. packages frozen spinach
1 can crushed pineapple
5 lbs. hamburger
miracle whip
white bread
hamburger buns
Bisquick
strawberries
half and half
4 dozen eggs
10 lbs. potatoes
1 funfetti cake mix
1 container funfetti frosting
bacon
1 can pork and beans
instant onion
mustard seed
ketchup
more ketchup
1 container of Cool Whip
lemon, lime, and orange jello
If you recognize all the fixin's for a true Midwestern feast, you would be correct, and you deserve a chocolate chip chewie (there's plenty of those here--I baked two batches tonight). I went grocery shopping at 10pm last night to avoid a) the crowds and b) the judgmental stares of the well-heeled residents of my neighborhood, who would probably look askance at my heart-attack-inducing cart o' goodies while they stood in line with their fresh vegetables and their skinless chicken and their classy bottles of white wine. They don't know what they're missing--today, I churned out ~8lbs. of potato salad, 36 boiled eggs (which I'll turn into deviled eggs tomorrow), a funfetti cake, two batches of chocolate chip chewies, 5lbs. of maidrites (aka sloppy joes), and a Jello salad that looks like the Indian flag. I also cleaned my room, cleaned my living room, kept up with the endless dishes produced by my cooking frenzey, and did three loads of laundry. And, I went to the mall and bought a vase and some makeup, and stopped on the way home to buy flowers for my living room. All in all, it was a productive day, so things should be okay tomorrow, although there's still a bit left to do--I have to go back to the store to procure ice, beverages, and more ketchup and butter; make spinach/artichoke dip, strawberry shortcake, baked beans, and corn casserole; clean my bathroom; clean my patio; clean up the remnants of stuff in the kitchen; and make myself look presentable for my danged friends. That means it's bedtime, or else I'll sleep 'til noon and not get everything done.
I am glad that I'm celebrating my birthday tomorrow, though--it looks like Monday promises to be frustratingly somber, as I expected the fifth anniversary of 9/11 to be. I may just switch my birthday permanently to the 10th; I celebrated last year on the 10th, and the scavenger hunt in Hyderabad was one of the best birthdays ever. Hopefully tomorrow will live up to my wildly-inflated expectations. Goodnight!
I'm gearing up for my party tomorrow; my shopping list included:
3 pints sour cream
3 8oz. packages cream cheese
2 cans whole-kernal corn
2 cans creamed corn
2 boxes jiffy cornbread mix
3 packages butter
2 packages chocolate chips
2 10oz. packages frozen spinach
1 can crushed pineapple
5 lbs. hamburger
miracle whip
white bread
hamburger buns
Bisquick
strawberries
half and half
4 dozen eggs
10 lbs. potatoes
1 funfetti cake mix
1 container funfetti frosting
bacon
1 can pork and beans
instant onion
mustard seed
ketchup
more ketchup
1 container of Cool Whip
lemon, lime, and orange jello
If you recognize all the fixin's for a true Midwestern feast, you would be correct, and you deserve a chocolate chip chewie (there's plenty of those here--I baked two batches tonight). I went grocery shopping at 10pm last night to avoid a) the crowds and b) the judgmental stares of the well-heeled residents of my neighborhood, who would probably look askance at my heart-attack-inducing cart o' goodies while they stood in line with their fresh vegetables and their skinless chicken and their classy bottles of white wine. They don't know what they're missing--today, I churned out ~8lbs. of potato salad, 36 boiled eggs (which I'll turn into deviled eggs tomorrow), a funfetti cake, two batches of chocolate chip chewies, 5lbs. of maidrites (aka sloppy joes), and a Jello salad that looks like the Indian flag. I also cleaned my room, cleaned my living room, kept up with the endless dishes produced by my cooking frenzey, and did three loads of laundry. And, I went to the mall and bought a vase and some makeup, and stopped on the way home to buy flowers for my living room. All in all, it was a productive day, so things should be okay tomorrow, although there's still a bit left to do--I have to go back to the store to procure ice, beverages, and more ketchup and butter; make spinach/artichoke dip, strawberry shortcake, baked beans, and corn casserole; clean my bathroom; clean my patio; clean up the remnants of stuff in the kitchen; and make myself look presentable for my danged friends. That means it's bedtime, or else I'll sleep 'til noon and not get everything done.
I am glad that I'm celebrating my birthday tomorrow, though--it looks like Monday promises to be frustratingly somber, as I expected the fifth anniversary of 9/11 to be. I may just switch my birthday permanently to the 10th; I celebrated last year on the 10th, and the scavenger hunt in Hyderabad was one of the best birthdays ever. Hopefully tomorrow will live up to my wildly-inflated expectations. Goodnight!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
i want a girl with lips like morphine
Plans for my birthday party are shaping up beautifully; which reminds me - if I forgot to invite you, let me know and I'll send you my new address. It's Sunday afternoon, which leaves me a few days to put the last stuff in order, go grocery shopping, and embark on a massive kick of baking, boiling, and frying in an effort to turn out all of the classic foodstuffs of my lost youth.
Actually, when I say that 'plans are shaping up beautifully', I mean 'the guestlist is shaping up beautifully'; and by 'beautifully' I mean 'into a horribly large mishmash of representatives from every era of my post-Iowa life'. That just makes it more exciting though. Will there be enough spinach artichoke dip? Will there be enough tasty beverages? Will people dance in my papasan until it falls apart? Will my college friends and my expat friends engage in a 'West Side Story'-style conflict, replete with murderous dancing and crazy antics? The answers to all of these questions will present themselves as the party unfolds on Sunday afternoon.
I still haven't finalized the menu; I'm trying to focus on things that can be prepared a bit in advance, since I hardly want to spend my birthday party cooking. For instance, I really want to make tenderloins because I *love* tenderloins and never get them here (Californians apparently no longer embrace the tenderloin, even if there is a district by that name in San Francisco). But, tenderloins require frying and are only half as good if they're cooked in advance--so if there are tenderloins, it requires me to mind a pan full of sizzling fat and pork, leading to the inevitable smell of grease permeating the house. Hmm. I could grill on the ol' George Foreman, but that's not very exciting. But, I feel that I need some meat products - perhaps pigs in a blanket? Or, ooooh, maidrites! My mother passed on the 'maidrites for a large group' recipe--I may have just struck on a winner. The other option is roast beef salad, but that would probably result in a mutiny of all hands, considering that it's ground-up roast beef, Miracle Whip, and sweet pickles. Luckily, I do have a jar of homemade sweet pickles (thanks sis!) in my fridge, so I can make all kinds of midwestern delicacies.
But, I will make corn casserole, and baked beans, and perhaps scalloped potatoes, and some kind of jello salad (Mom - if you read this, can you send me the recipe for the green jello salad with the marshmallows if you have it?), and deviled eggs, and spinach artichoke dip, and chocolate chip chewies, and a funfetti birthday cake! Since it's California I should have a salad, but no one really wants to eat salad anyway, and that hardly goes along with my birthday. Unless, of course, it's a salad made with either Miracle Whip or Jello.
Okay, I should go to bed rather than contemplate all of this--I have another seven a.m. call tomorrow. I'm really not made for this type of lifestyle; I'd much rather stay up all night and dream the day away.
Actually, when I say that 'plans are shaping up beautifully', I mean 'the guestlist is shaping up beautifully'; and by 'beautifully' I mean 'into a horribly large mishmash of representatives from every era of my post-Iowa life'. That just makes it more exciting though. Will there be enough spinach artichoke dip? Will there be enough tasty beverages? Will people dance in my papasan until it falls apart? Will my college friends and my expat friends engage in a 'West Side Story'-style conflict, replete with murderous dancing and crazy antics? The answers to all of these questions will present themselves as the party unfolds on Sunday afternoon.
I still haven't finalized the menu; I'm trying to focus on things that can be prepared a bit in advance, since I hardly want to spend my birthday party cooking. For instance, I really want to make tenderloins because I *love* tenderloins and never get them here (Californians apparently no longer embrace the tenderloin, even if there is a district by that name in San Francisco). But, tenderloins require frying and are only half as good if they're cooked in advance--so if there are tenderloins, it requires me to mind a pan full of sizzling fat and pork, leading to the inevitable smell of grease permeating the house. Hmm. I could grill on the ol' George Foreman, but that's not very exciting. But, I feel that I need some meat products - perhaps pigs in a blanket? Or, ooooh, maidrites! My mother passed on the 'maidrites for a large group' recipe--I may have just struck on a winner. The other option is roast beef salad, but that would probably result in a mutiny of all hands, considering that it's ground-up roast beef, Miracle Whip, and sweet pickles. Luckily, I do have a jar of homemade sweet pickles (thanks sis!) in my fridge, so I can make all kinds of midwestern delicacies.
But, I will make corn casserole, and baked beans, and perhaps scalloped potatoes, and some kind of jello salad (Mom - if you read this, can you send me the recipe for the green jello salad with the marshmallows if you have it?), and deviled eggs, and spinach artichoke dip, and chocolate chip chewies, and a funfetti birthday cake! Since it's California I should have a salad, but no one really wants to eat salad anyway, and that hardly goes along with my birthday. Unless, of course, it's a salad made with either Miracle Whip or Jello.
Okay, I should go to bed rather than contemplate all of this--I have another seven a.m. call tomorrow. I'm really not made for this type of lifestyle; I'd much rather stay up all night and dream the day away.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
the war is over, the rain is falling
Unfortunately for Princess Aiko, her aunt had a baby boy today, effectively ending all debate on whether Japan will revise its male-only succession rules to allow Princess Aiko to inherit. Honestly, being a female royal in Japan just sucks. One princess got married last year, and she had to abandon the family and her title altogether because she married a commoner, even though the crown prince was able to marry whomever he pleased. I'm not saying that I would automatically turn down the chance to be part of the Japanese royal family, but it doesn't seem like a very sound proposition to me.
I don't really want to go to bed, but I know that I should--I have a conference call at seven a.m. tomorrow, and those always drive me nuts. Sorry for being so boring tonight, but my impending old age is sapping all of my humor. Sigh. Goodnight!
I don't really want to go to bed, but I know that I should--I have a conference call at seven a.m. tomorrow, and those always drive me nuts. Sorry for being so boring tonight, but my impending old age is sapping all of my humor. Sigh. Goodnight!
six sigma heart
So, there's this song called 'Carousel', by this band called As Tall As Lions. I've heard it a few times over the past couple of days because it's been recommended to me by pandora.com (more on that in a second). Anyway, there's this repeated line that actually says 'sick sick my heart' (which, in my defense, doesn't exactly make sense). But, because I spend too much time thinking about work, I kept hearing 'six sigma heart'--six sigma is a method of quality assurance, originally used in the manufacturing industry, but recently applied to the more squishy realm of customer service, and I've done a bit of reading on it without actually understanding any of it. I'm usually pretty good at understanding song lyrics, but when I strike out, I strike out big. Luckily I looked this one up, since I knew it couldn't be 'six sigma', before it got permanently ingrained in my consciousness.
Anyway, if you haven't already, you need to check out pandora.com. I read a New York Times article about it earlier this week, and now I love it. It's part of something called the Musical Genome Project, in which some company has hired a bunch of people to listen to songs and categorize them by the type of instruments used, the key, harmonies, etc. Now that they've built up a profile of tons of songs, they can custom-build a streaming playlist for you based on a song that you put into their search box. For instance, I put in 'Dani California', the latest single from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my customized 'radio station' plays music by Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, other Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, as well as lots of bands I've never heard of and several songs that I've really enjoyed. As you're listening, you can give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to songs that you feel strongly about, so that it can continue to tailor its selections to your tastes. Brilliant, eh? Sure, some people may see this as yet another way for someone to get data about you--but I've already made peace with the fact that I love bad music, so if this is divulged publicly someday, I won't be upset at all.
I didn't finish putting my apartment in order; I would make progress for about fifteen minutes, and then take a half-hour break, so there weren't many noticeable changes today. However, I did recycle a whole bunch of cardboard boxes. Also, I made myself a ravishingly-delicious omelette; 'omelette' may be kind, since the pan was too small and so the egg got too thick to adequately fold, but 'ravishingly-delicious' is only inaccurate if you think that it's an understatement. Never again will I pay $10 for an omelette, unless I'm out with friends and don't want anything else on the menu. My omelette contained green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese; I'd sauteed the peppers and onions before making the omelette, so they were soft and tasty rather than crunchy and overwhelming. Combined with two pieces of buttered toast, this was the best meal I'd had in a long time. Yay for cooking! It is sad, however, that I love cooking, but am sized out of most kitchens--I can only reach the bottom shelves of all my cabinets, which means that I'll probably get more use than I would have liked out of the stepstool that I bought. Oh well--now that I'm almost 25, I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be described as 'leggy', unless there's some sort of nuclear holocaust and everyone elses' legs melt off except for mine. But in that case, everyone else will probably be so bitter that it would feel like a Pyrrhic victory. Hahaha.
Anyway, if you haven't already, you need to check out pandora.com. I read a New York Times article about it earlier this week, and now I love it. It's part of something called the Musical Genome Project, in which some company has hired a bunch of people to listen to songs and categorize them by the type of instruments used, the key, harmonies, etc. Now that they've built up a profile of tons of songs, they can custom-build a streaming playlist for you based on a song that you put into their search box. For instance, I put in 'Dani California', the latest single from the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my customized 'radio station' plays music by Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, other Red Hot Chili Peppers songs, as well as lots of bands I've never heard of and several songs that I've really enjoyed. As you're listening, you can give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to songs that you feel strongly about, so that it can continue to tailor its selections to your tastes. Brilliant, eh? Sure, some people may see this as yet another way for someone to get data about you--but I've already made peace with the fact that I love bad music, so if this is divulged publicly someday, I won't be upset at all.
I didn't finish putting my apartment in order; I would make progress for about fifteen minutes, and then take a half-hour break, so there weren't many noticeable changes today. However, I did recycle a whole bunch of cardboard boxes. Also, I made myself a ravishingly-delicious omelette; 'omelette' may be kind, since the pan was too small and so the egg got too thick to adequately fold, but 'ravishingly-delicious' is only inaccurate if you think that it's an understatement. Never again will I pay $10 for an omelette, unless I'm out with friends and don't want anything else on the menu. My omelette contained green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese; I'd sauteed the peppers and onions before making the omelette, so they were soft and tasty rather than crunchy and overwhelming. Combined with two pieces of buttered toast, this was the best meal I'd had in a long time. Yay for cooking! It is sad, however, that I love cooking, but am sized out of most kitchens--I can only reach the bottom shelves of all my cabinets, which means that I'll probably get more use than I would have liked out of the stepstool that I bought. Oh well--now that I'm almost 25, I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I will never be described as 'leggy', unless there's some sort of nuclear holocaust and everyone elses' legs melt off except for mine. But in that case, everyone else will probably be so bitter that it would feel like a Pyrrhic victory. Hahaha.
Monday, September 04, 2006
catch a dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
I saw 'Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest' today with Zach and Oniel. Of all of the things that I could have done to celebrate seeing Zach for the first time since before I left for Ireland, this was not the most auspicious thing to pick. Frankly, the movie was disappointing, even moreso that it would have been if it were just boring.
[warning: spoilers follow, for those of you who haven't seen it--which, judging by the box office numbers, probably only includes my parents ;) if you don't want to know, skip until the 'no spoilers' section below]
The writers and producers of this movie didn't seem to understand what made the first 'Pirates' movie so successful. No one cared about the plot, or even about all the explosions--what made the movie special was the interaction between the characters, the occasional moments of surprising character development, and the chance to see all of the main characters do exceptionally crafty things or plan ahead in clever ways. This movie attempted to create a plot to span two movies, and because so much of this movie was set-up for the third movie, the three main characters (Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth) went their separate ways for most of the movie--and none of them are as entertaining alone as they are with each other. There was far too much focus on how 'cool' the sea-creature special effects were, and about twenty minutes' too much usage of the Kraken. Surprisingly, I thought some of the best lines came from Commodore Norrington, who was really a one-dimensional bit part, but allowed to grow a beard for this particular outing.
But the worst was that none of the main characters developed in ways that made me love them, and two of the three of them did things that seemed uncomfortably out of character. Sparrow going valiantly to his doom with the Kraken would have seemed heroic and tragic if he hadn't spent most of the movie either absent or being an ass--for instance, it was never explained why it was necessary to send Will on a suicide mission, nor did he do anything to rectify the situation. And the whole thing with Elizabeth and Sparrow was just weird--granted, pirates are hotter than 'good guys', but in this particular movie, Will Turner seemed more clever than Sparrow, despite being held back by all his heroism and morals.
I guess the problem for me was that I felt some level of affection for the characters after the first movie, and this movie destroyed a lot of my good will towards them. I know I'm overreacting--but I would have the same reaction if they made a fourth 'Lord of the Rings' and Aragorn turned into an alcoholic. I'll still see the third one in hopes that they can redeem themselves--and I hope that the writers turn out a halfway-decent effort and aren't the same people who turned out 'Matrix: Revolutions'. And also, this wasn't as bad as many of the other movies I've dragged my friends to, so I can still be redeemed!
[end spoilers]
I spent the rest of the day doing some desultory unpacking, with a trip to Target to get a trashcan for my kitchen and some necessary hardware to hang some shelves. Tomorrow, I have more errands to run, and then I need to get rid of all of the boxes that have accumulated in my apartment--this means either recycling them here, or dumping them clandestinely on Stanford campus or at my place of employment. It's been lovely having a three-day weekend--this was my first weekend in my apartment in a month, and I desperately needed it. Now, it's time for bed--hopefully I'll wake up at a decent hour tomorrow so I can accomplish something, but don't hold your breath.
[warning: spoilers follow, for those of you who haven't seen it--which, judging by the box office numbers, probably only includes my parents ;) if you don't want to know, skip until the 'no spoilers' section below]
The writers and producers of this movie didn't seem to understand what made the first 'Pirates' movie so successful. No one cared about the plot, or even about all the explosions--what made the movie special was the interaction between the characters, the occasional moments of surprising character development, and the chance to see all of the main characters do exceptionally crafty things or plan ahead in clever ways. This movie attempted to create a plot to span two movies, and because so much of this movie was set-up for the third movie, the three main characters (Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, and Elizabeth) went their separate ways for most of the movie--and none of them are as entertaining alone as they are with each other. There was far too much focus on how 'cool' the sea-creature special effects were, and about twenty minutes' too much usage of the Kraken. Surprisingly, I thought some of the best lines came from Commodore Norrington, who was really a one-dimensional bit part, but allowed to grow a beard for this particular outing.
But the worst was that none of the main characters developed in ways that made me love them, and two of the three of them did things that seemed uncomfortably out of character. Sparrow going valiantly to his doom with the Kraken would have seemed heroic and tragic if he hadn't spent most of the movie either absent or being an ass--for instance, it was never explained why it was necessary to send Will on a suicide mission, nor did he do anything to rectify the situation. And the whole thing with Elizabeth and Sparrow was just weird--granted, pirates are hotter than 'good guys', but in this particular movie, Will Turner seemed more clever than Sparrow, despite being held back by all his heroism and morals.
I guess the problem for me was that I felt some level of affection for the characters after the first movie, and this movie destroyed a lot of my good will towards them. I know I'm overreacting--but I would have the same reaction if they made a fourth 'Lord of the Rings' and Aragorn turned into an alcoholic. I'll still see the third one in hopes that they can redeem themselves--and I hope that the writers turn out a halfway-decent effort and aren't the same people who turned out 'Matrix: Revolutions'. And also, this wasn't as bad as many of the other movies I've dragged my friends to, so I can still be redeemed!
[end spoilers]
I spent the rest of the day doing some desultory unpacking, with a trip to Target to get a trashcan for my kitchen and some necessary hardware to hang some shelves. Tomorrow, I have more errands to run, and then I need to get rid of all of the boxes that have accumulated in my apartment--this means either recycling them here, or dumping them clandestinely on Stanford campus or at my place of employment. It's been lovely having a three-day weekend--this was my first weekend in my apartment in a month, and I desperately needed it. Now, it's time for bed--hopefully I'll wake up at a decent hour tomorrow so I can accomplish something, but don't hold your breath.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
peanut butter jelly time!
My kitchen cabinets are woefully understocked, as I discovered today while I cleaned and organized them. My canned goods amount to one can of chicken noodle soup and one can of slices olives, which is somewhat short of the week's worth of non-perishable food items suggested by all the 'survive the next big earthquake' checklists that I like to read and promptly ignore. There were also ten pairs of shoes strewn about my living room, but none next to my bed where I could slip into them in the case of broken glass. Granted, since my bed is under my window, the only broken glass will already be in my bed, which is a rather horrifying thought. My refrigerator contains around forty bottles of beer and alcopops, as well as several containers of random condiments and some milk that is on the verge of expiring. I have most of a loaf of bread that I bought before I went to Seattle, but thanks to the miracles of ultra-processing, Safeway bread lasts for several months and could probably be considered one of those non-perishable food items that I should be stocking up on. It's no wonder I've been eating out to much--my 'home-cooked meals' are currently limited to Easy Mac, oatmeal, granola bars, bread with some random condiment, or a cup of tea. Ew.
So, I found myself craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and luckily I live within walking distance of Safeway, so I ran over to get the necessary ingredients. I came back with more than I had intended--yogurt, cottage cheese, milk (yes, I'm inviting lactose intolerance, but I seem fine with all of those delectable foods), apples, salad greens, dressing, and ice cream. I'm still far from being able to whip up a pleasing meal, but it's a start; I should do more staples-stocking this weekend, if I get around to making a list. The peanut butter (crunchy) and jelly (grape, in a squeezable plastic bottle) sandwich was the best thing I've had in awhile, and the cold, non-rotten milk was heavenly. It's funny that I enjoyed this more than the Spanish omelette that I had at a cafe for my 2pm 'breakfast' (you can tell I took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in!)--but I was annoyed that I paid $10 for an omelette and a diet coke when I could have made the same thing for a fraction of the price. Or, gone back to India and had four or five lackeys make me the same thing for a fraction of the price. Either way, there are times when I'm fine paying $10 for breakfast because I live in California and everything is expensive here and I really didn't feel like cooking anyway; there are other times when $10 seems like highway robbery. Today was a highway robbery day, so maybe that will encourage me to cook more in the future.
Despite my rather late start, I managed to thoroughly clean my kitchen, do the dishes, and reorganize the refrigerator and my cabinets. I also unpacked a couple of the boxes still in the living room. However, I had made the mistake of browsing at Walgreens while waiting for some prescriptions to be filled, which led to the even bigger mistake of buying a romance novel. It was 'Match Me If You Can', Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest effort, which has just come out in paperback. Her storylines are becoming a bit formulaic (granted, this is to be expected of romance novels)--but all of her stories are rather similar, particularly the ones in the series she has going about the fictional Chicago Stars football team. In a nutshell, a brainy, adorably-insane girl falls in love with a drop-dead gorgeous athlete with a surprisingly-large brain to match his killer instincts. Basically, it's like porn for women--while porn for men is dominated by hot chicks and average-looking guys, these novels contain absurdly-handsome men and women who sound like they might actually be real women (even though they aren't). Unlike porn for men, however, there is much more plot and much less sex. And, while Phillips' storylines are all the same, her dialogue is always snappy and amusing, so her plots can be forgiven. Of course, despite all my good intentions to put my house in order, I threw in the towel around seven, and read the book straight through (with that one break to buy peanut butter and jelly). Now, I should consider going to bed, since I do want to accomplish things tomorrow. Goodnight!
So, I found myself craving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and luckily I live within walking distance of Safeway, so I ran over to get the necessary ingredients. I came back with more than I had intended--yogurt, cottage cheese, milk (yes, I'm inviting lactose intolerance, but I seem fine with all of those delectable foods), apples, salad greens, dressing, and ice cream. I'm still far from being able to whip up a pleasing meal, but it's a start; I should do more staples-stocking this weekend, if I get around to making a list. The peanut butter (crunchy) and jelly (grape, in a squeezable plastic bottle) sandwich was the best thing I've had in awhile, and the cold, non-rotten milk was heavenly. It's funny that I enjoyed this more than the Spanish omelette that I had at a cafe for my 2pm 'breakfast' (you can tell I took advantage of the opportunity to sleep in!)--but I was annoyed that I paid $10 for an omelette and a diet coke when I could have made the same thing for a fraction of the price. Or, gone back to India and had four or five lackeys make me the same thing for a fraction of the price. Either way, there are times when I'm fine paying $10 for breakfast because I live in California and everything is expensive here and I really didn't feel like cooking anyway; there are other times when $10 seems like highway robbery. Today was a highway robbery day, so maybe that will encourage me to cook more in the future.
Despite my rather late start, I managed to thoroughly clean my kitchen, do the dishes, and reorganize the refrigerator and my cabinets. I also unpacked a couple of the boxes still in the living room. However, I had made the mistake of browsing at Walgreens while waiting for some prescriptions to be filled, which led to the even bigger mistake of buying a romance novel. It was 'Match Me If You Can', Susan Elizabeth Phillips' latest effort, which has just come out in paperback. Her storylines are becoming a bit formulaic (granted, this is to be expected of romance novels)--but all of her stories are rather similar, particularly the ones in the series she has going about the fictional Chicago Stars football team. In a nutshell, a brainy, adorably-insane girl falls in love with a drop-dead gorgeous athlete with a surprisingly-large brain to match his killer instincts. Basically, it's like porn for women--while porn for men is dominated by hot chicks and average-looking guys, these novels contain absurdly-handsome men and women who sound like they might actually be real women (even though they aren't). Unlike porn for men, however, there is much more plot and much less sex. And, while Phillips' storylines are all the same, her dialogue is always snappy and amusing, so her plots can be forgiven. Of course, despite all my good intentions to put my house in order, I threw in the towel around seven, and read the book straight through (with that one break to buy peanut butter and jelly). Now, I should consider going to bed, since I do want to accomplish things tomorrow. Goodnight!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)