My mind is the roller coaster track and my life is the car. It hurts to think about living right now.
I called the kid today on my way to work to inform him that I would be calling him when I got out--about 9 hours later...Perhaps not the best way to go about things, but as I've said, I'm not so great at thinking lately.
Let me backtrack about 48 hours.
Tuesday night I had a dream about running. This has been a re-occuring theme in my dreams since I was a child. That fact JUST dawned on me Wednesday morning. I am a goddamned genius. It is not so much that I'm running in the dream, its more that I have a great desire to be running specifically with my legs outstretched in an ballet-esque leap. To feel this open:
http://www.artsjournal.com/tobias/images/syl1r.jpg
But in these dreams, my legs will only take these small, cramped steps that anger, confuse, and frustrate me, so I end up running on all fours, using my arms to pull myself forward and drawing my legs in to follow. It feels like something a big cat would do, like a cheetah chasing something in the wild. Like this:
Except in my dream I'm still a clumsy bi-ped running on all fours.
And so this theme of wanting to run but not being able to has been a life-long dream occurance. Except yesterday, I woke up, and went for a run on the treadmill telling myself that I think I was made to fly.
ALERT*ALERT*ALERT*
This post is incomplete, but I will continue it when I can find the damned power supply to my computer. Until then my computer will be shutting down. Lame.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Spring Doldrums
Well, I won't say its been easy. But then again, whose life is ever really easy?
Easy Street is just a song.
I'm 25, and I finally feel that I should start to be honest with myself. To achieve the things I said I was going to achieve, and do a little extra. What that means is that I'm going to need to re-apply to Central, talk to an academic adviser who will hold my hand the whole way through. Its not that I can't do the work, its that I don't know what classes to take to walk the right path to graduation. In the mean time, I can still work at Bar D on the weekends, and ?have a social life? Yes. Somewhere in there.
It won't be easy. But then again, is anything worth having ever easily attained?
n.
Easy Street is just a song.
I'm 25, and I finally feel that I should start to be honest with myself. To achieve the things I said I was going to achieve, and do a little extra. What that means is that I'm going to need to re-apply to Central, talk to an academic adviser who will hold my hand the whole way through. Its not that I can't do the work, its that I don't know what classes to take to walk the right path to graduation. In the mean time, I can still work at Bar D on the weekends, and ?have a social life? Yes. Somewhere in there.
It won't be easy. But then again, is anything worth having ever easily attained?
n.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Horny for Opera
I knew it was there.
That one particular thing that drew us together. It was there.
Opera.
I am horny for opera, and I'm so glad to share it with you.
Until later,
n.
**EDIT**
Also hot for Orchestra, specifically Dvorak (with all kinds of funny weird slashes over it :quothe: boyfriend).
Cello concerto.
and...jazz.
git it.
n.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Words to Live By
"Lift yourselves, men, take yourselves out of the mire and hitch your hopes to the stars; yes, rise as high as the very stars themselves. Let no man pull you down, let no man destroy your ambition, because man is but your companion, your equal; man is your brother; he is not your lord; he is not your sovereign master."
Quick history lesson:
Marcus Garvey grew up in Jamaica, and was forced to quit school in his early teen years to help support his family. While living in Kingston and Costa Rica, the disparity between blacks and whites he witnessed moved him to action. Eventually he would become a litmus test for where one stood on the race problem. Garvey's solution to the race problem in the 1920's was for every black man, woman, and child from America, South and Central America, and the West Indies, to move "Back to Africa."
Garvey gained popularity through a group he founded called the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), with a mission of "general uplift of the Negro peoples of the world." Garvey's initial intent was to build schools modeled after the Tuskegee Institute. To raise funds for this goal, Garvey moved to Harlem and became polarizingly influential. It was in Harlem where he began to mobilize UNIA. His downfall was a pet project called Black Star Line. It was a shipping company meant for the employment of blacks, relocation of blacks to Africa, and be profitable. From the root, Black Star Line was not profitable, causing Garvey to attempt to raise money through a mail campaign which resulted in his conviction of federal mail fraud. He served three of his five year sentence before being deported back to his native Jamaica. In 1940, ironically, Garvey died before ever having set foot on African soil.
His position was well reasoned and supported by some American statesmen. A German statesman agreed that this solution would be beneficial for Europe as well, it "might enable France and Great Britain to discharge thier duties to the United States and simultaneously ease the burden of German reparations which is paralyzing economic life" (Dr. Heinrich Schnee, former Governor of German East Africa from 1912 to 1918). Garvey argued that it was appropriate and necessary for blacks to return to Africa: Asians controlled Asia, Europeans (whites) controlled Europe and the Americas, Africans should control Africa.
I am on the fence as to whether or not "Africa by/for Africans" would have solved the race problem. By the 1920's, American, West Indian, South and Central American born blacks had been raised in dramatically different cultures for a minimum of 300 years or ten generations. In addition to the length of time away from the motherland, the geography is drastically dissimilar. Not least to be mentioned, what of the people already living in Africa? What would have been done with them? Were they warmly welcoming of this idea? What then, would the race problem evolve into? Nation against nation? Continent versus continent? Or would racial repose exsist?
The words at the beginning are from Marcus Garvey. In context they are meant for the oppressed blacks everywhere as a call to hold our heads high. I prefer them out of context, where anyone can read them and derive strength.
Quick history lesson:
Marcus Garvey grew up in Jamaica, and was forced to quit school in his early teen years to help support his family. While living in Kingston and Costa Rica, the disparity between blacks and whites he witnessed moved him to action. Eventually he would become a litmus test for where one stood on the race problem. Garvey's solution to the race problem in the 1920's was for every black man, woman, and child from America, South and Central America, and the West Indies, to move "Back to Africa."
Garvey gained popularity through a group he founded called the Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), with a mission of "general uplift of the Negro peoples of the world." Garvey's initial intent was to build schools modeled after the Tuskegee Institute. To raise funds for this goal, Garvey moved to Harlem and became polarizingly influential. It was in Harlem where he began to mobilize UNIA. His downfall was a pet project called Black Star Line. It was a shipping company meant for the employment of blacks, relocation of blacks to Africa, and be profitable. From the root, Black Star Line was not profitable, causing Garvey to attempt to raise money through a mail campaign which resulted in his conviction of federal mail fraud. He served three of his five year sentence before being deported back to his native Jamaica. In 1940, ironically, Garvey died before ever having set foot on African soil.
His position was well reasoned and supported by some American statesmen. A German statesman agreed that this solution would be beneficial for Europe as well, it "might enable France and Great Britain to discharge thier duties to the United States and simultaneously ease the burden of German reparations which is paralyzing economic life" (Dr. Heinrich Schnee, former Governor of German East Africa from 1912 to 1918). Garvey argued that it was appropriate and necessary for blacks to return to Africa: Asians controlled Asia, Europeans (whites) controlled Europe and the Americas, Africans should control Africa.
I am on the fence as to whether or not "Africa by/for Africans" would have solved the race problem. By the 1920's, American, West Indian, South and Central American born blacks had been raised in dramatically different cultures for a minimum of 300 years or ten generations. In addition to the length of time away from the motherland, the geography is drastically dissimilar. Not least to be mentioned, what of the people already living in Africa? What would have been done with them? Were they warmly welcoming of this idea? What then, would the race problem evolve into? Nation against nation? Continent versus continent? Or would racial repose exsist?
The words at the beginning are from Marcus Garvey. In context they are meant for the oppressed blacks everywhere as a call to hold our heads high. I prefer them out of context, where anyone can read them and derive strength.
Monday, August 24, 2009
I sat at the edge of the back porch, simultaneously cursing and defending my need to smoke one last cigarette before I went to bed officially. Service Included's dialogue ran through my head. A cross between down-home cooking style service, and "would you prefer a seasoned glass or fresh?" This is my life.
I had already polished off a half bottle of Cinnabar, Mercury Rising, with the help of my [possibly?]reluctant foodie boyfriend. After the wine was finished, which I felt was a requirement after today's dismal shifts at both my "fine dining" restaurants, we decided to retire to the basement to finish off the last bowl, and for me, a final Bushmill's on the rocks. Whiskey and wine after a long day make the muscles relax better than any massage.
I've come to a tepid understanding that the first (and most recent) wine bar I am leaving has spoiled me. I find myself craving a nice, spicy, earthy/tannic wine at the end of the day, and thanks to my new close proximity--a beautifully spiced, heavenly aromatic dish from the Indian restaurant I just joined (which desperately needs some of my organization). These two things have brought equal amounts of stress and joy to my life. My new opportunities have made me want simpler things. Perhaps not "americanized" simple things, but items of a cultural nature. Breads made from scratch, french press coffee from direct-trade farmers. Creamy butter. Fresh spices, organic ingredients. No meat. What a wonderful predicament I find myself in.
I had already polished off a half bottle of Cinnabar, Mercury Rising, with the help of my [possibly?]reluctant foodie boyfriend. After the wine was finished, which I felt was a requirement after today's dismal shifts at both my "fine dining" restaurants, we decided to retire to the basement to finish off the last bowl, and for me, a final Bushmill's on the rocks. Whiskey and wine after a long day make the muscles relax better than any massage.
I've come to a tepid understanding that the first (and most recent) wine bar I am leaving has spoiled me. I find myself craving a nice, spicy, earthy/tannic wine at the end of the day, and thanks to my new close proximity--a beautifully spiced, heavenly aromatic dish from the Indian restaurant I just joined (which desperately needs some of my organization). These two things have brought equal amounts of stress and joy to my life. My new opportunities have made me want simpler things. Perhaps not "americanized" simple things, but items of a cultural nature. Breads made from scratch, french press coffee from direct-trade farmers. Creamy butter. Fresh spices, organic ingredients. No meat. What a wonderful predicament I find myself in.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
This eve
This eve, I sit in the basement. This, sitting (comfortably, I might add) in the basement is, in and of itself a feat. The basement has been reformed. Before I moved in, the basement was two years of storage (I use the word storage here to mean, a GODDAMN MESS) with a path to the computer (circa 1993) and the laundry room (room, here, meaning pile of dirty and clean clothes).
This eve, I sit comfortably on the futon, computer in lap, beer resting precariously near my knee, and write to tell you of the feeling of home. The fact that there is a basement to sit and relax in is due largely in part to my refusal to allow a space I lived in to go unused. It's taken about four months of sporadic cleaning. It's been annoying, refreshing, maddening, cathartic. Home, my friends, is becoming a nice little nest.
This eve, the din of the Tigers game, laughter and shit-talking coming from the foosball table before me, settle comfortably into my awareness. Even the dogs are comfortable. Miss South Carolina (See note) is laying in her typical chalk-outline/presenting fashion, in the middle of the floor, and Old Man River is on the back of the couch, looking at me like, "Mom, I'm really tired, can we go to bed yet?"
I'm not ready for bed quite yet, but I am comfortable (lazy) enough to cheekily request that someone else go pee for me, and while they're in there, will they please take my contacts out?
If you're volunteering to take my contacts out, thank you, and if you're not, well, I say Good Day to you.
n.
Miss South Carolina is a reference to a rather unfortunate video of a pageant contestant stumbling through an incoherent answer to the all-important Pageant Question. This video describes the personality of one of our dogs. She really pretty and she's REALLY dumb. I mean no disrespect to the actual Miss South Carolina that this video refers to, but she did go on a comedy show making exactly that point, so I guess you could say I'm plagarizing. (credits to youtube and tosh.0) (I can't afford to get sued over the nickname of my dog.)
This eve, I sit comfortably on the futon, computer in lap, beer resting precariously near my knee, and write to tell you of the feeling of home. The fact that there is a basement to sit and relax in is due largely in part to my refusal to allow a space I lived in to go unused. It's taken about four months of sporadic cleaning. It's been annoying, refreshing, maddening, cathartic. Home, my friends, is becoming a nice little nest.
This eve, the din of the Tigers game, laughter and shit-talking coming from the foosball table before me, settle comfortably into my awareness. Even the dogs are comfortable. Miss South Carolina (See note) is laying in her typical chalk-outline/presenting fashion, in the middle of the floor, and Old Man River is on the back of the couch, looking at me like, "Mom, I'm really tired, can we go to bed yet?"
I'm not ready for bed quite yet, but I am comfortable (lazy) enough to cheekily request that someone else go pee for me, and while they're in there, will they please take my contacts out?
If you're volunteering to take my contacts out, thank you, and if you're not, well, I say Good Day to you.
n.
Miss South Carolina is a reference to a rather unfortunate video of a pageant contestant stumbling through an incoherent answer to the all-important Pageant Question. This video describes the personality of one of our dogs. She really pretty and she's REALLY dumb. I mean no disrespect to the actual Miss South Carolina that this video refers to, but she did go on a comedy show making exactly that point, so I guess you could say I'm plagarizing. (credits to youtube and tosh.0) (I can't afford to get sued over the nickname of my dog.)
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Dinner for 30!
Boyfriend turned 30 today. HOORAY!
Homemade dinner was a must. His favorite is Chicken Tikka Masala with rice, so that's what I made. As a vegetarian, dicing the chicken was probably the hardest part of the eve.
I drove myself to the local Meijer, purchased some basmati rice, chicken tenderloins, and tikka masala sauce. To go with that, I went to the World Market and bought some Ommegang (Belgian beer) and of course, our favorite, Jameson and gingerale. Pre-dinner cocktails, you know.
I prepared the chicken (diced) and sauteed it to slightly brown. Then it went into a pan to simmer with tikka masala sauce for 35 minutes, for the sauce to seep into the chicken.
I also prepared tomato/tofu curry for myself because I'll be damned if I'm gonna eat an animal.
I chose Naya super firm pre-diced tofu, drying it out before tossing it in a pan of simmering diced tomatoes and Patak's curry paste, with a touch of organic olive oil.
I cooked the basmati in organic vegetable broth, for a little added flavor.
Dinner turned out well. Dessert was next. Blueberry pie.
I've never made a pie before and allrecipes.com is my go-to for questionable foods to prepare. I picked an easy 3-2-1 recipe, and so far so good. I sprinkled some cinnamon in with fresh blueberries, along with cornstarch so the pie with hold when it's done. We have a pizza stone which was recommended (for thorough cooking) so we are waiting on that in the oven. With fingers crossed, this pie will turn out. If not, well...we've got a few blueberries to snack on.
My camera is in need of a new flash battery so I don't have pics to share, but I did get Boyfriend some Primal tattoos to wear as a memento of his 30th. Next weekend we'll be having friends over for a barbeque to celebrate in grandeur. By then I'll have my camera fixed and food pics will be available for your drooling pleasure.
Until then,
n.
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