beauty will save the world.

2010-05-23T19:19:00.001-07:00

Psst.

It's been so long, that I don't really know what to say.

I'm on a plane back from New York, to San Diego.

I found used copies of Joni Mitchell's Blue and Cat Steven's Greatest Hits at a record store in St. Marks. The owner told me he wasn't chastising me for not putting the booklet back in the CD case properly. He told me he wasn't chastising me at all. He also told me he wasn't telling me what I was doing wrong.

I also bought a straw fedora.

I feel funny writing in this blog after such a long pause. I feel like I'm talking to much about Me. Me. Me. I guess that's the point?

I'm getting another tattoo(s) as soon as I get back. And I'm thinking about re-piercing my eyebrow. So what?

My mom and I shared a cab with a French couple on their way back to Paris after a week in New York. I felt inferior.

I had a dirty gin martini with every dinner. This was supposed to make me feel better about not having any Spirits after dinner. I didn't feel better.

I just got a new penpal. He's in Kenya. (Sorry Justin)

My mom kept asking me when and why I stopped wearing bras. I never answered her questions. I just tried to give her knowing smiles. Then she kept calling me Liberal.

I went to a bar by myself on 51st and 8th, ordered a beer, and wrote in my journal. The Irish bartender asked me if I was writing a book. I said absolutely.

Grown men kept asking my mom if we were sisters. I kept wondering when the young men would ask me if I was single.

People really know what they're doing with clothes in New York.

3.5 more hours on this plane. I really wish I had brought a book.

2010-01-28T10:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I haven't left yet. I just wanted to say rest in peace, JD Salinger.

2010-01-19T22:39:00.000-08:00

So I'll just go ahead and say it. I was happy with where I was and what I was doing about a week ago. And then, just like that, I went home to eat lunch with my parents and it was completely dissolved. Happiness, gone. How does that happen? When I was younger, I would spend all of my energy not caring about my parents' opinions. When did that change?

I really tried hard to overcome this post-college shit-storm the past few months. Most of the time, I was depressed, but numbed it with stuff. In the past month and a half though, I felt that I had found my footing. I was practicing yoga, baking at work, going to bed by 10 and waking up by 5. I had started to read and write. I could wear my beloved skinny blacks again. I was feeling pretty good. And then all of a sudden. Shitstorm. Sunday. The day I spent in LA, the day that was supposed to be a golden escape from all things San Diego. And there literally was a storm. That probably was a contributing factor. I hadn't done yoga that day, and I ate shit food to make myself feel better, which I hadn't done in a long time, and that made me feel even worse, and I spent the entire day in my head, asking myself over and over again if I was actually a dumb person. If I was actually dumb as a stump, if I would actually go anywhere in life, if I really, truly, knew what I wanted to do in life. If I could even accomplish anything. Not going to yoga that day didn't help at all of course, because I was irrationally asking myself since I hadn't gone that day, how many more days would I skip until I eventually would just quit, like I did with everything else? And the usual conversation would take place in my head: Okay, start with the things I like. What do I like to do? Hell if I know. I kind of like yoga right now, but even that is hard to like most days. I guess I like baking, but do I like it enough to get myself in $50,000 of debt? I mean, I guess I like writing. But do I feel like I would die without it? Am I actually passionate about anything? Am I just a fraud? I actually have no interests. I am actually a stupid, mediocre, good-for-nothing. I have failed and I am only 24. I have no direction, I have no passion, I have nothing. Nothing that I wish I had. I am mediocre. What the fuck am I still doing here? Maybe I'll die young. Maybe I'm only here for a little while longer.

And it went on and on like that for a while.

It's also disturbing to me that I have trouble talking to people about the things that I'm feeling, but I have no problem writing about it on my blog and publishing it for the world, well the few that know about my blog, to see. Maybe it isn't disturbing in this day and age. A blog is a personal space, anyway. Personal and public, just like conversations are. And since not many of you know about this blog, it's like a conversation, right?

Anyway, I spent the day yesterday researching and planning culinary school. It ultimately is what I want to do after all. There's a reason why I've been working in cafes as long as I have. I'm actually good at it. And I actually enjoy it most of the time. I can't imagine myself working in a cubicle. I couldn't even handle a receptionist job for longer than a week. I felt that I would literally wither up and die, or develop an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, if I stuck around that godforsaken place. To that end, I guess I'm pretty passionate. I know I'm really passionate about things I hate. But what about the things I like? Hell if I know. Mandy wrote a blog post recently about being able to identify problems real well and not knowing how to go about fixing them. I feel the same exact way.

I've been reading some of my old journal entries, and three years ago, I wrote a letter to a friend asking him to tell me who I am because I had no idea. I feel like I'm in the same place.

If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that I am not an academic. So grad school is out of the picture for sure. It would just be a waste of money, just like a four-year college was for me. Literature/writing, what a joke. I started paying off my loans this month, and I wonder if any post-college graduate is as depressed as I am for paying off an education that I feel like I could've acquired just by spending 8 hours in a public library every goddamn day. There were gems in the four years, certainly, but a couple thousand dollars worth of gems?

Well, it looks like I'm going to New York in March, at the very least, to figure out if the rest of my life will revolve around all things culinary.

I have so much to figure out. Shit.

And I just made a batter for a loaf of bread. That's right, batter. So it can't be as hard as making actual bread, which I'm actually afraid of. And the dough isn't rising. It's been three hours, and I'm pretty sure I killed the yeast. If that's really true, I'll really be depressed. What is wrong with me.

Currently:

2010-01-18T21:41:00.000-08:00

Quiet Friday

2010-01-15T20:28:00.000-08:00

That's what today was. And so the quiet Friday concluded with a quiet dinner, a mushroom bourguignon, complete with portobellos, red wine, and some french batard with gouda. Inspiration? This month's Vogue. I was reading it while N got his hair cut at Terra, the new favorite salon in San Diego. This month's Vogue was strange. Have you read it yet? It's Indie. Weird. I felt like it was geared towards an audience much younger than its usual target: the 20s. There's always some stuff for the 20-year-olds, but this month felt like it was all about the 20-year-olds. Spreads of the Horrors in Givenchy , MGMT, and a small picture of Beirut. There was also a feature on Rachel McAdams, which was strange because, she was news years back. But she's back, and apparently she likes to cook and spend time by herself. The whole thing was very, Indie.

So I got a craving for some good cooking. Last night was Tomato Soup, but it was a mash-up of stuff that I'm familiar with. I could've really challenged myself with Beef Bourguignon, but who am I kidding. That I can tackle on another night, now that I've done it with portobello mushrooms. This dish is delicious, though I can imagine it being taken to another level with the substitution of Beef over mushroom. And RC, I know what N got you for Christmas. I better be seeing some pictures of Beef Bourguignon real soon!

So here are some pictures, and I can share the recipe with you too, since I have it right in front of me.

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter, softened
2 pounds portobello mushrooms, in 1/4-inch slices
1/2 carrot, finely diced
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced (though I always use triple the amount of garlic that a recipe calls for)
1 cup full-bodied red wine
2 cups beef broth
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup pearl onions, peeled (still whole)
Egg noodles, for serving
Sour cream and chopped chives or parsley, for garnish

Heat the one tablespoon of the olive oil and one tablespoon of butter in a medium Dutch oven or heavy sauce pan over high heat. Sear the mushrooms until they begin to darken, but not yet release any liquid — about three or four minutes. Remove them from pan.

Lower the flame to medium and add the second tablespoon of olive oil. Toss the carrots, onions, thyme, a few good pinches of salt and a several grinds of black pepper into the pan and cook for 10, stirring occasionally, until the onions are lightly browned. Add the garlic and cook for just one more minute.

Add the wine to the pot, scraping any stuck bits off the bottom, then turn the heat all the way up and reduce it by half. Stir in the tomato paste and the broth. Add back the mushrooms with any juices that have collected and once the liquid has boiled, reduce the temperature so it simmers for 20 minutes, or until mushrooms are very tender. Add the pearl onions and simmer for five minutes more.

Combine remaining butter and the flour with a fork until combined; stir it into the stew. Lower the heat and simmer for 10 more minutes. If the sauce is too thin, boil it down to reduce to the right consistency. Season to taste.

To serve, spoon the stew over a bowl of egg noodles, dollop with sour cream (optional) and sprinkle with chives or parsley.

Oh, have you met my friend? She's wonderful. A real beaut.

Day Off

2010-01-14T20:25:00.001-08:00

Well, if crawling back into bed at 7 in the morning with my hair smelling like scones counts, then today constitutes as a day off.

Today was the kind of day you spend walking around 5th Ave in San Diego. 5th Ave, Hillcrest, San Diego. Not really 5th Ave at all.

And now I'm in my bathrobe, listening to Joni Mitchell, singing Both Sides Now at the top of my lungs in an empty apartment, and stirring tomato soup on the stove. I really would share the recipe with you, but I don't even really know how I make it. It just sort of, comes together. Well, I'll give you the ingredients and you can have some fun with it:

Tomato-Basil-Paprika Soup
Tomatoes (I usually use about 6 large hot-house tomatoes)
Onion (1 Yellow Jumbo)
Green Bell Pepper (1 usually)
Red Bell Peppers (2 large ones)
Garlic (I use an entire cluster most times...)
Carrots (Optional. As many carrots as you see fit)
Basil (Ballpark, again)
Paprika (I like Pimento, which is a smoked paprika, but normal works too)
Lemon (only if you have it on hand)
Pepper
Salt
Cumin
Soymilk
And whatever other herb you'd like to throw in there, except for the obvious, maybe not rosemary, y'know?

Saute the hard veggies, like the onion, bell peppers, carrots, in olive oil until they get soft. I add salt when I'm doing this, but you can always add salt later. Cut crosses on the bottom of the tomatoes, boil some water, stick em in, and let them boil just for a minute or two. Dump the tomatoes in an ice bath and proceed to peel the skins off them. Chop up the tomatoes, toss them in the veggie mix with the garlic, and smash up the tomatoes softly as you stir. I just let this simmer for a little while, maybe 15-20 minutes, then turn the stove off. Then add the basil, pepper, cumin, etc herbs, and stir. Then put the soup in a blender, in batches, and carefully let it whirl. I say carefully because it's not fun when there's a hot explosion in your kitchen because the blender was on too high and the soup was too hot. Just puree until you think it's smooth enough, or chunky enough. When you're done blending the soup, stir in the soymilk (you don't have to put it over heat or anything). You can taste and stir in more salt if need be. And eat!

Well, that was fun. And for some reason it seems utterly pointless and rambling. Just come over sometime and I'll make tomato soup for you. How bout that? Now I think I'll heat up some bread and have some tomato soup before calling it a night.

xoxo

2010-01-14T20:15:00.000-08:00

i can be cruel
but let me be gentle with you

Day Thirty-One

2010-01-11T07:58:00.000-08:00

That's right. It's the day after Thirty. And yes, I finished 30 days of Bikram yoga. Don't make me get into technicalities. It's done. But the journey isn't over. Pannikin employees definitely get half off monthly membership so I'll be doing Bikram as long as I can. But the 30-day chapter is shut. Done. Now it's down to as often as I can go, and on the other days I can have spin classes and run on the beach like normal people often do.

I just got finished reading the introduction to Infinite Jest, written by Dave Eggers, and it's one of the best introductions I have ever had the pleasure to read. It's short, unpretentious, doesn't profess that Infinite Jest is so easy to read that you gotta read it, and still makes you really want to read it.

Monday morning begins with a slice of quick from Bread and Cie, a glass of chocolate milk, and the introduction to Infinite Jest. So far, so good. Happy Monday, friends. Here's to loving life and being productive because you want to be, not because you have to be.

xoxo

Day Twenty-Five - Day Twenty-Eight

2010-01-08T21:13:00.000-08:00

Hello! It's been, what, four days since my last post? Well, I've been keeping busy. Surprised? I kind of am. It's been a hectic past couple of days, but guess what? I've been going to yoga. It's almost Day Thirty. And I cannot believe it. It doesn't seem like it's been that difficult of a journey. I can't even remember how I felt about it in the beginning. Just the now. And I wanted to extend it to 60 days, but it looked bleak since it's another $100 that I should Not be spending on yoga. But guess what? The studio is a few blocks down from the Pannikin. And guess what else? Everyone else on the Pannikin staff has started going since I set out on this 30 day challenge. Including the jefes. Guess what else? Turns out that all the instructors at the studio come into the Pannikin almost daily. So naturally, the boss ladies are going to meet with the owner of the Bikram studio to strike up a deal between employees. How awesome is that? It looks like I'll be continuing this journey for far longer than I had imagined. And my wallet won't drown!

Anyway, nothing really new going on. Just lots of energy during the day and exhaustion right around 9pm everyday since I've been gettin' stuff done. And I'm also starting Infinite Jest. Well, started reading it. And it's going to be a commitment. Whatever.

It's 9:18 now and I think I'm tucking in. I'm not sure where the direction of this blog is going. I remember it starting out as a medium for me to post my writing. And now it's turned into daily activities, which I don't like so much. So I think it's time for reconstruction. I'm writing again, anyway.

Goodnight world. Love you-xoxo

Day Twenty-Four

2010-01-05T14:26:00.000-08:00

Look ma, just got back from two sessions of yoga, baking scones, and I'm feelin' good. Now I'm gonna go make myself a salad, a poached egg, and sit in front of my typewriter.

Today I kept another one of my resolutions. I went to the beach. I sat in front of the ocean in between yoga classes and just relaxed for one hour. Really, I watched the waves for one hour this morning. But it made me feel so centered, so in tune with what's going on in my mind and my body. 2010 is a year for getting things done!

So peace out homes. This chick is going to get her ass in gear.

xoxo

Day Twenty-Three

2010-01-04T14:11:00.000-08:00

Hey there, hi, hello! It's 2pm and I've just had my first meal of the day. Why's that? Well I went to yoga twice again! Doubling has become much, much easier. Granted I am still exhausted after the fact, during was much better the second time around. I am one week away from completing 30 days, but first I have to double up twice more to make up for the absences in the beginning. One week! And then 30 days more, I think. I'm pretty certain that I'm going to dedicate myself to another 30 days, making it the 60 day challenge. Wish me luck! 2 months of Bikram Yoga. Maybe 3 if the second month goes well. I already feel my muscles firming up, and my hips have been killing me because they have started opening up! I feel changes occurring in my body and my energy level has shot up. If you guys haven't tried Bikram yet, seriously do it. It might be the best thing I've ever done for myself. That being said, make sure to bring a change of clothes if you're not going straight home. I'm sitting in a soaking wet sports bra and a shirt that is slowly getting soaked through because I idiotically forgot to bring a change of bras.

Um, so I'm starting the New Year with some budgeting. Something I've never really done completely before. Wish me luck! Beginning of the months always suck because it's bill-pay time. This time though, I feel good about it.

Have a wonderful Monday!

xoxo

Day Twenty-Two

2010-01-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

The day started off with yoga. Best way to start the day, or end the day, actually. Got that out of the way and spent the day with N, grocery shopping and doing menial chores. Best way to start the new year, I think. Had a nice home-cooked dinner, and now going to tuck in with a nice movie. Nightmare Before Christmas, I think. Best way to end the night. Not much to report, friends. Just lots of love, washed veggies, and yoga.

Big love, xoxo

Day Twenty - Twenty-One

2010-01-02T20:14:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been slacking. But to be fair, it's been a hectic two days. With the onset of the New Year and New Year's resolutions in full swing, my head has been spinning with room to rest only at night, coincidentally the same time when I update the blog. Yoga yesterday and today left my groin kind of aching. I think I pulled a muscle or something. Should ask about that tomorrow. Though I'm expecting Colleen to just tell me that I need to do more yoga to fix it. It's what my old swim coach used to say about everything.

One of my resolutions is to walk on the beach everyday. Since I'm doing yoga everyday in downtown La Jolla, and working everyday in downtown La Jolla, I really have no excuse. Besides, it'll make good research for the thing that I'm writing. I joked around about writing a bestselling novel, but I'm only half-serious. I really am working on a new piece of work, and I'm committing to it 100%, going into it like it's going to turn into something huge. And I've resolved to spend non-Pannikin hours as writing hours, which basically turns to working hours. If I have days off from the Panni, I should be spending 8 hours writing, because right now, this is my occupation. I'm resolved to not end up just being a barista/baker right now. I want to be a writer, because that's what I started out as and completely dropped one day. So, these are just some of my resolutions. How about yours?

N is coming back to San Diego today and can you tell I'm jittery? It's nice to feel excited to see somebody again. Even if it's only been 2 weeks... RC are you coming down to San Diego or what?

I'm looking forward to tomorrow, friends. And next week, I will have finished my 30 day quest. Which might be extended to 60 days if all goes well... Or 90 days if all goes even better.

Good night, sweet dreams, from the middle of the well, xoxo

Day Nineteen - New Year's Eve?

2009-12-31T15:08:00.000-08:00

Hello there friends. Did you see the blue moon this morning? I just found out about what a blue moon was last night. It was brilliant at 6 this morning. Did I bake this morning? Yes. Did I go to yoga this morning? Yes. And now I'm sitting in my high school pajamas at home in Orange County. Is it going to be 2010 tomorrow? I guess it's time for New Years resolutions.

1. Be happy. Because we all know happiness is something we all need more of in this life.

2. Write a book. Maybe not finish it within a year. Pipe dream. But pipe dreams are okay once in a while, right? I think the last name of my protagonist is going to be Grave. Graves? One of those, okay!

3. 60/90 day challenge. I'm going to extend the 30 day challenge to a 60 day challenge. I've decided. The 30 days just isn't enough. And from there, who knows? Might go off into a 90 day challenge. 3 straight months of yoga without a break.

4. Quit my vices. We all know what they are. I don't think I need to say them out loud.

I mean, there are more, you know? But I don't think I need to list them all here. My resolutions are happy staying in my journal for now. That's another one of them actually. Journaling more. I feel like I've been neglecting my journal and shunning it into my purse for far too long. Journals were always where my best ideas took flight. Speaking of which, I have such a good idea for a book. Such, such a good idea... You'll see, N! Yes, you! You refuse to believe. The future lies in mermaids. I'll just tell you that for now.

Well since I came home for New Year's Eve instead of staying in San Diego where all the friends are, I have two choices for tonight: hang out with my sister and her old high school girl friends at a house and play Cranium... or hang out with my parents and their old friends in their house... Did I tell you Plan C? The one that is most likely? Staying home and having a glass of champagne before I go to sleep, most likely before midnight. Why oh why oh why did I listen to my mom and come home early. It's not as sad as it sounds. Might be sadder if I go along with Plan A and B.

Have a good New Years Eve, world. Be safe. Say hello to 2010 for me in case I miss it. Love you- xoxox

Day Eighteen

2009-12-30T15:22:00.000-08:00

This post is coming a little early because the morning started a little late. Did some yoga at noon and ate some chili at the Pannikin for lunch. Now I'm sipping on a hot chocolate at home still in my wet yoga clothes and I can't wait to take a nice hot shower, slip into my fuzzy new bathrobe, and break into my old typewriter. It's 3:30 and the skies look like it's 6:00, so in I stay today. I plan to make myself some hot tea, and work on my novella. It's been collecting dust over the past year and a half, and I plan to completely change it today. Have a wonderful rainy day friends. Cuddle with your loved ones, have some hot chocolate, and cozy up to your favorite book. In my case, the work in progress from the past two years.

xoxo

Day Sixteen-Day Seventeen

2009-12-30T00:15:00.000-08:00

Well, oh well! I didn't update yesterday. But to yoga I did go, yessir. And today, TWICE! Mhm. Pat on the back. And I made soup, and scones, and muffins, and watched Twilight. And then I made Korean BBQ. AND I got the idea for a bestselling novel. What a great day! When I was in yoga today, I realized that most of the time I'm there, I always feel like I'm suffering/enjoying myself. It's a love/hate relationship, really. (Good thematic element for my bestselling novel...) Anyway, I realized today though that I always come out of yoga feeling better, stronger, and it's this feeling that I wish I could remember whenever I feel like not going. I'm now two days past the halfway mark to 30 days and I feel more flexible, sore most days, and more positive about the direction of my life. It's making me think about dedicating myself to another 30 days, making it the 60 day challenge. I talked to a woman today in the studio who dedicated herself to 365 days, which is just, crazy. But maybe it isn't. Maybe making something important to you part of your daily life isn't such a crazy idea. I mean, yoga is taxing, but it's spiritually uplifting, and it's not so insane to devote an hour and a half a day everyday, is it? Bikram was really hard to get used to, but I'm addicted to the heat now. I have a spot on the floor that I claim every class, and I'm convinced it's the hottest part of the studio. When I come out of the studio, I feel like the cold just hits me like an unpleasant feeling, not the breath of fresh air that I craved so much when I first started going. I like getting to the studio 30 minutes early to lie in Savasana and prepare myself mentally for the concentration to come, and before I liked getting to the studio a few minutes late so I could spend the least amount of time as possible in that ridiculously hot room. I feel like my body is changing, and so is my mind. The hour and a half is like a constant battle of mind over matter, and the best feeling comes at the end of the class when the final breathing exercise is finished and you're lying there, triumphant for not walking out of the class or giving up. I feel like I've given up on a lot of things throughout the years, and yoga is one of the things that I haven't given up on in the past two weeks. And sure, it's only been two weeks, but as each day passes and I attend class, I feel elated at the end of the day, like that is one accomplishment done. There are so many things on my To Do list these days, and it feels good to check one thing off that box. I guess that's why people like doing New Year's Resolutions so much. It gives them a chance to dedicate themselves to something and make them feel better about each day. Well, it's working, and I'm excited for the first time for the accomplishments that will come after this one. Challenges are good for the heart. I'm excited to go to sleep at night because I'm one day closer to accomplishing my goals.

And I keep having to remind myself: Baby steps, Hana. Baby steps.

Day Fifteen

2009-12-27T20:27:00.000-08:00

Well today marks two weeks from when I started! Did some yoga today even though I was sore and aching from yesterday's yoga fiesta. I can definitely do the camel pose now and see my toes from above! I can also touch the top of my head to my toes with my elbows on the ground when I reach forward! I was muttering curses at Dave yesterday, but I think he might have just been the best yoga instructor I've ever had...

Nothing really exciting today. Just a quiet morning at the Panni, a quiet afternoon at the apartment, and a quiet cup of soup with a glass of red wine for dinner. Now that I've got a swanky new bathrobe and some slippers to boot, I'm completely content staying in and lighting my little pink candle.

And now, here is one of my favorite Dickinson poems:

We grow accustomed to the Dark --
When light is put away --
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye --

A Moment -- We uncertain step
For newness of the night --
Then -- fit our Vision to the Dark --
And meet the Road -- erect --

And so of larger -- Darkness --
Those Evenings of the Brain --
When not a Moon disclose a sign --
Or Star -- come out -- within --

The Bravest -- grope a little --
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead --
But as they learn to see --

Either the Darkness alters --
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight --
And Life steps almost straight.

good night loves. xoxox

Day Fourteen

2009-12-26T22:11:00.000-08:00

So I woke up at 6 to drive back to San Diego by 8. Why by 8? Because there are two yoga classes, one at 8 and one at 10. So therefore, I took two yoga classes today, back to back, one from 8-9:30 and one from 10-11:30. And let me tell you, I thought I was going to die by the end of the second one. Dave, the yoga instructor for the second class, forced me to do poses that I have never even dreamt I could do. He completely picked on me because he KNEW that it was my second class of the day! "Well, you're all warmed up now! Forehead to knee, forehead to knee, hana!" And then he saunters over and forces me, physically forces me to put my forehead to my knee in standing head to knee pose. There is a reason why I wasn't just going for forehead to knee today, Dave. It's because I've been sweating half my body weight in water for the past two hours. What an asshole. By the end of the class, I felt like half a person. Oh look, it's 10pm. If I don't go to sleep soon, I'm going to hallucinate. I'm sorry for the half-assed post! Just blame Dave. He really destroyed me today.

Day Thirteen

2009-12-25T20:33:00.001-08:00

Well, not really day thirteen because it's Christmas. And that means I'm in Orange County, and that I just baked blueberry scones AND biscuits instead of going to yoga. Scones because we had frozen blueberries in the freezer and the rest of the ingredients in the pantry. Biscuits because I had some leftover whipping cream from the scones and the ingredients are pretty much the same.

So there was a ton of cooking and baking going on today, like there is on every holiday, and in the end it was well, well worth it. We had steaks! And mashed potatoes! and biscuits, and salad, and of course, rice and kimchi jjigae. And of course my mom had to make a snide comment about how easy it is to prepare "American food." And she definitely said that because she didn't have to marinate the steaks. Koreans and their pride.

Look! Sage is alive and well!

Two peas in a pod:

Momma with the blueberry scones:

------------

And this is a special treat. It's from this time, last year. As a refresher, N and R had just come back from Smashing Pumpkins and they picked me up and we went to GV to study, which didn't really happen, and then we went next door to Shakespeare.

Anyways, friends, Merry Christmas! Warm hugs and well wishes from this side of California.

xoxoxo

Day Twelve

2009-12-24T10:59:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve and the Pannikin is jam-freakin-packed with families and couples and reunioners. Woke up too late to go to yoga this morning, so it looks like next week I'm doubling up for a few days in a row...

Not much to report, really, other than that the drive home wasn't bad at all. Not really any traffic, which really shocked me. Then Joana and I decided to get dinner since I got there in time. We realized pretty quick that there were no restaurants open on Christmas Eve. But guess which one was?

The Olive Garden.

When we were kids, our family would go to the Olive Garden on special occasions and my dad would always order the ridiculous Tour of Italy platter, which I finally saw the calorie content for, and just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. Joana and I used to always order a side of ranch to dip our breadsticks in, and I would always pick out the jalapenos and olives because they were my favorite and I liked to save them for last. Anyway, my point is, the Olive Garden was a special place when we were kids, and for a long time now, I've always known that it was the Denny's of Italian food, but I was still disappointed when I went last night, which was the first time I've gone back since we were kids. Talk about convoluted sentences. Can you tell I haven't written this blog post in my head before I started writing it?

So that is all I really have to say on the subject of Christmas Eve. And also, it's really wonderful to have a heated blanket in our icebox house.

Day Eleven

2009-12-23T16:28:00.000-08:00

Hi friends, So yesterday was the Pannikin holiday party. Such a ridiculous night. The day before, a customer came into the cafe with this crazy camera and some white card that he tried explaining to me before he realized I wasn't really paying attention. Anyway, he asked if he could take a few pictures of me, so I said okay. And I made an awkward face as he took two pictures. Then he said that he'd bring in prints for me the next day so I could have some. I said okay thank you. And that was the end of it.

Well, not really the end of it. Because yesterday afternoon, a few hours before the party, Cri tells me that a customer brought something in for me. She pulls out a huge cylinder cannister and then takes out two HUGE POSTERS of my FACE. Two posters. Really? So of course I wrap it up and submit it as my White Elephant gift for the holiday party. Best idea Ever. Really. Next time any of you go to a white elephant, just get two huge prints of your faces and put that in as the gift.

So the rest of the night was spent dancing, drinking mimosas in our PJs, eating bacon and blueberry pancakes, and finding funny places to put up the posters of my face. Now that I think about it, I really hope it's still not posted on the front window of the cafe...

If any of you have facebook, you've probably seen these pictures already. And you know what, it really isn't that funny on the computer because the scale of the pictures are so minimized...

Anyway, here are some pictures:

The bar, with Cri wearing the new Pannikin sweater and the Papa t-shirt!

Dancing jefes

Here is the poster they taped up above the dishwashing sink in the back so that it's the first thing Miguel sees when he comes in the next morning.

The video you are about to watch is what happened before the picture that follows it... In my drunkenness, I agreed to do it.

Happy early Christmas eve friends. I'm going to Day Twelve of Bikram now. Goodnight!

xoxox

Day Ten

2009-12-21T20:29:00.000-08:00

Well, I went ahead and did it. Just got back from yoga, and I am swearing never to go to a 6:30pm class ever, ever again. Definitely the hardest class so far, and it isn't just because the room had been heating all day and was at the hottest point I've ever experienced. I think I must've not hydrated for a few hours before class, which really screwed me over. Well, it's over now.

But guess what? On my way back home, I was listening to 94.9 and realized that they were playing a song from Bob Dylan's holiday album! Then, when that song ended, I realized that it was 8:00! And it was album of the night hour on 94.9! The radio station does this cool thing where it plays an album in its entirety without any breaks at 8pm. Last time I was pleasantly surprised by Low. This time, it was Bob Dylan's holiday album! So I sat in the car for a while and listened to the whole thing. And you know what? With the exception of a few songs, Drummer Boy especially, which actually might be the best version I've ever heard... I actually felt like... and please don't take this the wrong way... that... that some of the songs were sleazy... God, that was hard to get out. I think it's the songs where there are the most angelic female vocals you could possibly hear in a Christmas song, and then Dylan's voice comes in with this deep throaty, almost harsh tone. I don't know. I just listened to the songs once. I should listen again before I say anything. All I'm saying is, that's the impression I got. Which might be completely unfounded. See how hesitant I am to commit to this word I just tried to use to describe Dylan's holiday album? Well, it made me really happy that it was this album in particular tonight. I'm not sure why it made me so happy. It wasn't because they were holiday songs. It was probably because they were Dylan's rendition of holiday songs. And I could picture the album cover. And the immediate recognition I had of Dylan's voice (which is so, so rare for me when it comes to other artists) just made me... happy.

Well, cutting back to earlier in the day, when I woke up at 3 in the morning to bake off some scones, muffins, and things, when I felt like the day was off to the best start Ever, down to the afternoon when my shift was ending, and I came home, and I realized that I had just worked a 10-hour shift, and that I had been awake for 12, and that I actually felt really really miserable---I don't remember where the sentence was going. But what I've realized today is that I've started writing blog posts in my head throughout the day again. I used to do it all the time when Xanga was the hot new thang, but I've started doing it again now that I'm actually writing in my blog. Like that paragraph about Dylan on the radio? Totally writing that in my head while I was listening to the album... another reason why I should really consider retracting my earlier "sleazy" comment... But I think it's a good thing. I used to write things in my head all the time, you know, back when I was actually writing. And then I'd write them down in my Moleskine, and translate it back onto the page, and so on and so forth. So this blogging is a start in the right direction, I think. Like those finger exercises you had to do before you started playing the piano. You know, those scales and chord progressions... I forget what they were called. Anybody?

Okay so would you like to take a peek into my morning? This is the best way to start the day: Empty cafe, Bon Iver playing softly on the speakers overhead, first mug of coffee from the first batch of coffee that the machine churns out, and the smell of scones in the air. Did I mention empty cafe? It is my absolute favorite to get to the cafe before anybody else. Another reason why I would love owning a small business. The privacy of it all is just so, so appealing.

Warm hugs and kisses from this side of California.

xoxox

Day Eight - Day Nine

2009-12-20T19:30:00.000-08:00

Well, now I just feel guilty. Because I sort of promised a new post yesterday to someone and totally didn't do it. But to be fair, it was N's last day in San Diego so I spent every second I could with him, going out to two dinners, sharing a pitcher of margarita, sitting outside on Adams, and plotting diabolical plans to ruin a certain fashion blogger we caught getting filmed in South Park. So okay, I admit it, I did skip yoga yesterday, but I completely plan to make it up this week (doubling up three times this week), and I totally do not regret not going yesterday.

So I did go to yoga today, after I dropped N off, and while I was doing the pranayama breathing exercise, which is the very first thing you do in class, I could NOT stop coughing. I mean, more like hacking than polite coughing. I had a sudden fit, and I was completely mortified. But my throat's been acting up all day and I haven't even been able to laugh properly without coughing my lungs out. So I almost left class! I almost picked up my yoga mat and walked out. It's the first time, besides the first few times I've ever done Bikram, where I felt the strongest urge to just walk out. But well, I didn't. Mostly because of shame. I was embarassed that I couldn't stop coughing, but I would've been more embarassed to leave class in the first 5 minutes. So I stuck it out, and I'm glad I did. Well, of course I'm glad I did. When are you ever Not glad that you stuck it out in some kind of fitness activity? You're always glad you did it. But then why is it so hard to go? When I was going to the gym everyday, I found that the hardest part about going was getting my ass to the gym. I'd literally sit in my workout clothes at home, in front of the computer, and spend way too much time before I finally guilted myself into going. Weird. Anyway, today is day Nine and the next two weeks might even be easier since N is gone, bless his heart, and I won't be so tempted to eat things that I shouldn't be eating all the time...

I think I just wrote way too much on the topic of yoga/gym. Anyway, to make it worse, I have a picture. And let me just say, I am only posting this picture because I promised a certain someone that there'd be a damn picture on my post today! So here's my after-yoga face:

I really don't know how people keep up Bikram on a daily basis for months and months. How do they maintain their clothes? Do they wash their Bikram outfits all the time? Or do they have so many yoga clothes, which cost an arm and a leg by the way, that they can just change outfits everyday? Because seriously, just owning two sports bras, two tank tops, and two jogging shorts, is getting to be too much. But I feel like I've searched high and low for good yoga clothes, and every time I see something, they have some obscene price like $42 for a tankini! It looks like I'm just going to have to keep doing laundry frequently or cut up some pants or somethin'. It just isn't worth it to invest in clothes that are going to get soaked in sweat every single day.

Okay time to make some split pea soup, curl up with a glass of wine and Murakami. Maybe even an episode of Grey's Anatomy tonight. It's a quiet Sunday evening, and I am completely happy with it.

(Miss you)

xoxoxo

Day Seven

2009-12-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

Hello! Yes, I went to yoga today. And then I went to work. And now, I'm about to embark on a special journey. A journey that includes Ramon! I think whiskey and/or beer and/or sushi might be involved. We'll see. Otherwise, same old, same old.

Santa's coming! Can you hear him yet?

xoxo

P.S.

2009-12-17T20:27:00.000-08:00

Hello there, for all two of you (MR and RC) (and NN when I clear my throat real loudly into your ear) who read this blog religiously, I am updating with a newsflash.

And no, there are no pictures of Kimchi Pizza, though that IS what I made for dinner tonight. And no, it wasn't a total success, but it's a keeper recipe. One of those that will only improve over time--

But, there's something else. I've made a new friend. Well, not friends yet. I just spent the last 3 hours tearing my hair out over getting the upper thread to pull the bobbin thread out of the hole, and finally realized that I hadn't pushed the bobbin in until it clicked. Goddamn gadgets and their clicks when things are set in place. Anyway, here she is:

Okay, I know, I know. It's Christmas. What am I doing with a new toy for Myself? Well, to be fair, I got it weeks ago! I just realized that this picture isn't that great because a. the detachable compartment is detached and b. the shadow of my canon is showing and c. i didn't take the camera off the fancy spot color whatever mode N had it on earlier today. I never used to be so self-conscious of my photo-taking skills before, but lately I've been noticing on people's blogs that nice words are just not enough. There are beautiful pictures scattered all over the place! Except for twitter, apparently. People upload tons of shitty pictures on twitter. So I got a twitter. So there.

Really wish I was taking a trip up north this winter break. Especially since I know someone up there has got one of these sewing machines... and could teach me so I don't have to decode this ridiculous instruction booklet. It reminds me of the time I put a new ribbon in my typewriter for the first time and ended up with black hands two hours later before I could raise them for success. But this is taking a lot longer than the typewriter...

Well, here's to many creatures and dinosaurs and giant felt typewriters to come!

Who remembers this? Anybody? I still remember the first time I saw this in that Landmark theater on Shattuck with Joy Justus and my jaw literally dropped off my face when the screen shot to this typewriter. Then I got the DVD and there was a Making Of portion where the woman Responsible for these felt beauts got interviewed! And, well, I'll just leave it at that. Before I get even more excited than I already am for the potential that this new sewing machine of mine holds...

Alright fine, maybe it didn't Literally drop off my face...

xoxo friends. Til Day Seven.

Day Five and Day Six

2009-12-17T12:11:00.001-08:00

Okay so there wasn't a day five. Why? Well, because I was curled up in bed, clutching Nyquil and a bag of cough drops. All Day. Well, except for the time when I made it over to the computer and watched an episode of Ugly Betty, then Modern Family, then some Office. Except for those times, I was in bed. Swear. So I skipped another day of yoga. But it's okay, because this morning I woke up at 3am and felt spectacular. So spectacular that I jumped out of bed, drove over to work, and started baking off some scones at 4 in the morning. Then I went to Day Six (technically Four) of yoga at 6am.

Okay so the re-telling of days is starting to get real old, and it's reminding me of why I originally made the switch from Xanga to Blogspot. So please everybody, bear with me. I'm cooking up some ideas in my head to make things more interesting.

Well, if it's any consolation, I'll be posting up pictures of a Kimchi Pizza tomorrow. Stay tuned!

xoxox

Day Four

2009-12-15T15:45:00.000-08:00

Day Four will have to be put on hold because I am terribly sick. I woke up at 4 am, with the full intention of going to yoga at 9:15, right after the baking gig. But baking and making soup lasted til about 10, and instead of waiting around for the 12 o'clock class, I went home, took some Dayquil, and tried to sleep it off. No luck. Woke up with an insane craving for chocolate chip cookies. And let me tell you, this craving led me to find the best recipe I have tried yet. I guess I like my cookies soft, not as chewy as Lebovitz's version. And this recipe made me realize that I should use AllRecipes more often. I keep telling myself that whenever I make a successful find there...

Anyway, I halved the recipe because I didn't want too many cookies lurking in the house. Here is the halved version:

1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp hot water
1/4 tsp salt
1-1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Yea, I know. You saw hot water on the list and thought Wtf? I know I did. But it makes sense. Bear with me.

Preheat oven to 350F.
Cream butter and sugars.
Beat in egg. Stir in vanilla.
In a separate bowl, dissolve baking soda in hot water. Then add it to the batter with salt.
Stir in flour and chocolate.

Wax paper on cookie sheet. Bake for about 10 minutes. If you have time, chill the dough for as long as you can before using it. Though with this recipe, I made tiny cookie scoops as soon as I finished making the dough (I was really Craving Cookies), and I found that they hadn't spread at All (hence why they are so f'n amazing right now). But if you can, I'd try to chill the dough. It's always easier to work with when the dough is chilled.

Okay time for me to crawl back into bed now. Drink lots of water, guys. And take lots of vitamins. Being sick just isn't fun at all.

Day Three

2009-12-14T14:04:00.001-08:00

Yoga in the morning makes me feel like a better person. You know what Doesn't make me feel like a Better Person? French Toast stuffed with butter. But it makes me feel like the best person when the buttery crime is shared with my special guy.

xoxo

Day Two

2009-12-13T20:58:00.000-08:00

Heyyy, I have a question for you. Have you made pizza yet? Yes, all five of you who follow this blog. I'm asking, well have you? Because it's super easy. I have to apologize in advance for the poor pictures. I just discovered that there is a white balance on my camera... but not before I snapped a picture of this:

Okay, so quality isn't so good. But just look at the pizza! Look how happy the sick boy is! Here's a really easy recipe for pizza dough. I'm still working on perfecting it, but this is a good foundation recipe to have:

PIZZA DOUGH
enough for a small thin crust pizza.
(smitten kitchen)

1 1/2 cups flour (half whole wheat flour works too)
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast
1/2 cup lukewarm water
1 tablespoon olive oil

Stir dry ingredients, including yeast, in a large bowl. Add water and olive oil, stirring mixture into as close to a ball as you can. Dump all clumps and floury bits onto a lightly floured surface and knead everything into a homogeneous ball.

Knead it for just a minute or two. Lightly oil the bowl (a spritz of cooking spray perfectly does the trick) where you had mixed it — one-bowl recipe! — dump the dough in, turn it over so all sides are coated, cover it in plastic wrap and leave it undisturbed at room temp. for an hour or two, until it has doubled in size.

Dump it back on a lightly floured counter, and gently press the air out of the dough with the palm of your hands. Fold the piece into an approximate ball shape, and let it sit under that plastic wrap for 20 more minutes.

Sprinkle a pizza stone or baking sheet with cornmeal and preheat your oven to its top temperature. Roll out the pizza, toss on whatever topping and seasonings you like. For the one above, I made an easy tomato sauce using romas, sprinkled some mozzarella and parmesan, added chopped up mushrooms and red onions, grilled eggplant, and fresh basil.

Bake it for about 10 minutes until the dough is just golden and the cheese is slightly browned.

---------

Okay so, besides the pizza and stuff, I went to day two of bikram. Thought I might not make it today. Should probably have thought it out before committing to a yoga studio so far from home... Granted, downtown la jolla is like a second home anyway. It's rare when I'm not up there during the daytime. Here's why:

Hey, okay, so the picture quality isn't good here either. But you get the idea. I work in a cafe, or we can call it a home, because that's pretty much what it is. And I'll put up some better pictures in a little while, but this works for now. Besides, aren't you impressed that I'm using my digital camera now? Can you tell I finally found my battery charger?

Also, guess what else I've been doing? This picture is a bit better because last night, N went over white balance with me. It's unbelievable that this picture was taken in a dimly lit yellow room. I've been making creatures! They're back, and in pastel this time! This one isn't quite finished yet. She still needs a name, a hobby, and a home. Any takers? I think I might name her Magda, or maybe Madeleine. Maddy, Mildred? Something along those lines... Oh, it just came to me. Sophie. This is Sophie, everyone:

Anyway, so I went to bikram today! That was the basis of my entire post. And look! You get another picture too! Don't barf now. In lieu of a corny Christmas greeting card, you get to view this gem in the privacy of your own home. Look ma, we both got haircuts!:

Day One

2009-12-12T15:25:00.001-08:00

Hi, hello, it's been quite a while. I see I've gotten lazy over the past couple of months. Well, no more, dammit! It's about to be a new year, and I'm ready for some movement in my life.

I just committed to 30 days of Bikram. Today was Day One. I've already written down the countdown in my trusty little Moleskine Planner. 29 more days to go. Today I idiotically left my bottle of water in the locker room and had set up my mat at the very far corner of the heated room and laid down in Savasana when I realized what I had done. Just then, the instructor walks in and it's too late for me to get my bottle of water. The last time I had forgotten a bottle of water, I felt feelings of desperation and anxiety I had never really known whenever I heard the crackle of a water bottle being downed by someone next to me. So today sucked. After the class, I was the first one out the door.

Yea, I don't know. I mean, they say 30 days of Bikram will transform you physically and mentally, and I'm prepared to discipline myself into it. Every time I've done Bikram in the past, I've felt like I was on a high the rest of the day. Sometimes though, I also feel exhausted. I want to document it all on here though, since it'll give me something to look forward to. A girl I knew once told me that when she was quitting smoking, she used to draw a big X on a big calendar for every day that she didn't smoke. She said she'd be carrying around a fat black sharpie for the majority of the day, but it helped her quit. I'm kind of the same way with going to the gym and doing yoga and all that kind of stuff. Every time I do it, I have to write it down in my planner that I went, and for some reason, it gives me a really good feeling. Strange. But hey, whatever works, right? I just hope I don't turn into crazy Bikram Lady who goes to Bikram 3 times a day and has these callouses on the bottom of her feet that are white from being moist too often. She dripped onto my yoga mat the other week and I went out and bought a new one. Disgusting.

Okay, so I don't have much more to say, other than N is sick and it's rainy, which gives me an excuse to bake some chocolate chip cookies! I baked an apple tart last night, but I think today is a day for cookies. So here we go! Here is a recipe if you're interested:

from THE BIG BOOK OF CHOCOLATE:

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar

1 stick unsalted butter, cold, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon coarse salt

1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips *sometimes I like to use milk chocolate

1 cup walnuts or pecans, toasted and chopped

Preheat oven to 300F

Beat sugars and butters together until smooth. Mix in egg, vanilla, baking soda.

In a separate bowl, stir together the flour and salt, then mix them into the batter. Mix in the chocolate chips and toasted nuts.

Scoop the cookie dough into 2-tablespoon balls and place 8 balls, spaced 4 inches apart, on each of the baking sheets.

Bake for 18 minutes, or until pale golden brown. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack.

ga-ga-ooh-la-la

2009-11-28T12:44:00.001-08:00

so much alexander mcqueen in this video. so, so much. but the best part? that shinji konishi bat hair piece gaga is wearing in the shower. my only gripe with the video is that there is so much detail that you have to take 80 screenshots to appreciate it all. regardless...

thanksgiving menu

2009-11-26T19:25:00.000-08:00

so this thanksgiving, i decided to pay a tribute to gourmet (rip) by cooking off some recipes from their final thanksgiving issue.

cheddar corn muffins with jalapeno butter
golden onion tart
bacon smashed potatoes
fruit medley salad
winter squash soup
cranberry orange relish
turkey, of course

and sweet potato pie

--

last but not least, thanksgiving pictures!

last year's thanksgiving pictures:

also, i want to add one more thing here. look who N's introduced me to:

too tired to make this post witty and frilly. xoxo

2009-10-21T18:16:00.000-07:00

sometimes i'm so afraid i'll go crazy.

the knife

2009-07-21T11:27:00.001-07:00

couture torture

2009-07-14T21:51:00.001-07:00

anja rubik and boots

2009-07-04T21:59:00.000-07:00

2009-07-04T18:04:00.001-07:00

reminder to self: school of seven bells october 4th at the casbah.

english trailer.

2009-07-02T18:06:00.001-07:00

the food network and family

2009-06-29T23:14:00.000-07:00

i have never watched so many food network shows in my life. it's the one thing that my mother and i can bond over. our love of food. not to mention one thing that we both agree on is: american food is disgusting.

i never realized how healthy korean food actually was for you. i just started typing this whole shpeal, speal (sp?) on americans, food, and racism, but i'm tipsy right now and i had to force myself to delete it all.

basically, this guy, the face of tgif, the guy who does the thing on food network where he goes to diners and stuff? he's disgusting! GOD. well, to be fair, maybe it's not him, maybe it's just the producers. but his "pleased" look is too convincing for me to think that he's not actually enjoying the bullshit that he puts in his mouth. he went to a place that actually had a pizza flipper to flip PANCAKES. so this diner had pancakes that were too big for a regular spatula. and the same restaurant served this ungodly dish that consisted of sliced bread, topped with a slice of ham the size of a really fat ass, CHEESE SAUCE (do NOT make me get into what this consists of), and crispy fries.

and this guy alton brown is really corny and annoying too. his show 'good eats' is doing a special on sushi and though it's informational, it doesn't denote the fact that the little acting there is on this show is annoyingly bad, as well as alton's technique for delivering information.

but all in all, being with the family is nice. the cake part of the family is always in the living room talking about cakey things together. and cuddling our cakey dog... and my dad is always upstairs watching korean tv on my computer...

i've also realized that if i just spend a few weeks at home, eating my mom's food, i would probably drop about 30 pounds immediately. koreans love pickled shit, but they also love low-fat, low-carb (excluding rice), and low-american-influenced-food. i kind of love it. maybe i should write a book about how you can go to asia and have it be a diet plan.

but i've been baking

2009-06-25T19:23:00.001-07:00

today's cups:

2009-06-25T18:38:00.001-07:00

i haven't written in a while.

a few things:

2009-06-24T21:36:00.000-07:00

one summer ago. sandal tan, bikini tan, so happy.

1. i'm moved into my new place. windansea. next to the beach. i can hear the ocean crashing from my bed. the air is salty. i can't believe it.

2. going to korea for three weeks in july into august. can't express how excited i am to experience humidity, bakeries, and post-hana-in-jr.-high korea.

3. daedelus this saturday. i'll go alone if i have to. that might actually be fun.

4. the veils coming to LA july 15th. definitely going. especially since i have a car now.

5. oh yea, i have a car now. god i can't believe i lived in san diego so long without one.

6. school of seven bells in october at CASBAH. yessssssssss.

7. mandifer moving in soon. so so excited.

8. an order for five dozen cupcakes this saturday. kitchenaid to the rescue.

restless

2009-06-23T00:02:00.000-07:00

father's day menu: horseradish potato salad, mustard salmon, bruschetta with french bread, spinach salad.

me and the pops

my homer simpson donut cupcake.

this weekend consisted of a really good show, good food, and good family time. i'm supposed to be moving out of my place tomorrow, and i haven't gotten anything packed. i'm sitting on the floor of my room, next to my bed, dreading the time when i have to put everything in boxes again. it would be nice to settle into a place, once and for all. or it would also be nice to not own much, and be able to move places whenever i feel like it. how did i end up with so much stuff? two years ago i didn't have anything. i like to nest in places, which is why this apartment was so strange. i felt like it was only for a short time, and so i never properly nested. which is also a part of the reason why i never felt at home with it. i still feel like i'm sleeping in some nice hotel that happens to have all my stuff. but the only time i ever felt at home anywhere was when i was living by myself in hillcrest. i guess that's the benefit of paying a lot for an apartment... living itself shouldn't be so expensive. why is it so expensive? why is it so hard? i went home this past weekend and i realized how at home i really felt there. even though it's not mine anymore, i still feel comfortable when i'm there. like all my secrets are out in the open and even though my parents might give me shit, they're not judging me. it's strange, being home. so i'm here now, and i have all this stuff to move tomorrow, into another temporary place, that happens to be right next to the beach, and i know i won't be able to nest there either. i feel weird about this.

but on a semi-related note, i think i'm going to invest in a truck and open up a shop that moves.

and i don't know how i feel about ellipses yet. i don't really like them very much... but i realize that two more periods can go a really, really long way.

na, this one is for you. i know you'll be delighted with this picture:

class of 2008

2009-06-09T11:33:00.000-07:00

i just got my cap and gown. for some reason, maybe it was because of last year, i didn't think it would actually happen. i thought that i would go up to the counter, they would swipe my card, put in my information in the computer, and they would look up at me slowly, eyes still on the computer screen, and say something along the lines of: sorry, we can't let you graduate yet. i was kind of hoping something like that would happen. but that would also have been devastating. i was also expecting the guy to swipe my card and then say, i'm sorry, you're not in the system. and then it would've been like i didn't really exist, like i wasn't actually about to graduate, or take a final, or buy my cap and gown. sometimes i really don't think i exist in college. i feel strange, like a fish out of water. but what actually happened was the guy took my broken ID card and chuckled, "i guess that's a sign it's time for you to graduate!" ha ha ha. so he enters in my number and gives me a ticket. asks me what height i am and gives me a gown. and a cap. and a tassel. and that's it. granted, i still have a class left to take. but that's it. the end of college. i don't really know how else it should be. but now i'm about to take one of my last finals of college. and i can't believe it's all really happening. i feel like curling up into a ball in the corner of a room and disappearing.

hero:

2009-06-06T23:43:00.001-07:00

finals week

2009-06-04T16:06:00.000-07:00

sit down by the fire

there ain't no way to get what i want

proteins are composed of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen.

i feel like i'm wasting my time.

it's windy and dark outside. but i'd rather be there than in here. libraries are so unnatural. humid and unnatural. nobody wants to be here! do they?

back to cellular respiration.

blackbird singing in the dead of night

2009-06-03T20:27:00.000-07:00

Lately, the Price Center blackbird is all the rage:

picture from the guardian

these birds kind of make me happy... but maybe that's because i haven't fallen victim yet.

nutrition

2009-06-03T16:25:00.001-07:00

so far, my favorite part about the nutrition class i am taking is how the "average American" and "average person" are always distinguished from each other.

a strawberry cupcake on a gloomy day

2009-06-01T20:27:00.000-07:00

thanks to mandifer, i finally have a picture of one of my cupcakes!

here is a strawberry one, positioned next to a cup of coffee from the panni:

and how could i make a post about The strawberry cupcake without any recipe? (S, this is mostly for you since i know you'll use it)

ingredients:

strawberry sauce

2 cups (an overflowing little green basket from the store) of fresh strawberries, stemmed.

a little bit of sugar to taste (i don't use any in mine)

cupcake

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs, room temperature

1 1/3 cup all-purpose flour (i use cake flour but all-purpose works fine)

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/8 tsp salt

1/2 cup strawberry sauce

1/4 cup milk

cream cheese frosting

8 oz. (1 rectangle package) of cream cheese (room temp. let it sit out while you're making the other stuff)

1/2 stick butter (room temp)

4 cups sifted powdered sugar

1/4 cup (i end up using less) of strawberry sapreuce

directions

1. soak the strawberries, stemmed and cut up, with a bit of sugar for 15-20 minutes. put strawberries in a small saucepan and heat under medium heat. cook the strawberries until they get all soft. puree with a blender until it's nice and smooth. cool before using it in the recipe. (because i don't add more sugar to the strawberries, i skip the entire saucepan step and just puree the strawberries. this works fine, and you don't have to wait for it to cool)

2. preheat the oven to 350F. whisk the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium sized mixing bowl (you don't have to use your giant one for this one). set it aside. in a separate bowl (an even smaller bowl), mix the milk and the strawberry sauce.

3. beat the butter on high until it's soft. add sugar and beat until it's light and fluffy, about 4 minutes. add eggs one at a time and beat smooth in between each.

4. add about a third of the flour mix to the butter/sugar mix and beat to combine. add a third of the milk/strawberry mix and beat until combined. keep alternating the flour and milk until you've finished!

5. scoop the mix into cupcake papers until almost full. bake for 20-22 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean!

frosting

1. sift powdered sugar into a bowl. (when i first started making cream cheese frosting, i would skip the sifting step and god, does it make a difference. sift, sift, sift!)

2. beat butter and cheese together until creamy.

3. add half the sugar, beat until combined.

4. slowly add some strawberry sauce, not too much because it'll be runny otherwise.

5. gradually add some more sugar (more if you have to because it's too runny)

6. beat, beat beat!

(another tip: if you want to bring your eggs to room temp real fast, just pop it in a bowl of not-so-hot water and wait for 2 seconds. feel them and they should be warm!)

squirrels

2009-05-28T16:35:00.001-07:00

LA vs. L.A.

2009-05-28T00:12:00.000-07:00

Scenario: Eating dinner.

Players: Nathan, Hana, Tabasco Sauce.

N: Let's see how well you know your tabasco sauce!

N: First question. What country was tabasco made?

H: um... USA?

N: Not bad, not bad. How about city?

H: City?! How would I know city?

N: L.A. Now, what is the-

H: Hold it. L.A.? It was made in L.A.?

N: Yes. Squints at the wrapper. L.A.

H: As in Los Angeles?

N: Yes. Squints at the wrapper again. Oh wait, is that not... L.A.?

N: L.A...

H: Nathan. Did you mean Louisiana?

Culprit:

Memorial Day Weekend

2009-05-25T22:59:00.001-07:00

consisted of matching sneaks, matching flannel, ramon's surprise present(s/ce), nathan's new toy, and admiring overpriced leather!

recently

2009-05-18T18:49:00.000-07:00

marion for french elle

erin wasson

balmain frtw09

balenciaga frtw09

twiggy

2009-05-12T11:27:00.000-07:00

2009-05-10T14:15:00.001-07:00

What I really want to know is, How Did I Get Here?

???

2009-05-05T16:53:00.001-07:00

i know. it puzzles me too.

thoughts on a windy day

2009-05-05T14:41:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I have trouble deciding where I should put the adverb in sentences. Words in general, come to think of it. Because of it, I write my blog entries in my head and map out the words before I put them down on my computer. Also, the idea of public restrooms is strange. And gross. My favorite part is when Kundera talks about shit. And Jesus. And kitsch. Sharing spaces is also very strange. But necessary, I think. I'm excited to see the Kills. I wonder if Kate Moss will be there. Every time I stand at the edge of a cliff I think about how I could just throw myself off of it. Is that what angst is? I also think that being naked when you're alone helps your self-esteem.

I also don't know how I feel about this design:

.

2009-05-04T19:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here trying to learn the 68-95-99.7 rule and I'm trying to remember where it all went wrong. When did I start feeling like my life stopped having a purpose? When I was going to church I felt like my life was for God, that my purpose was to serve God, and though I now feel that I was lost back then, I still feel lost now. Maybe more than ever. To that end, I understand why people hang on so tightly to God, church, bible studies, potlucks, baptisms, picnics. I understand that even if there is a tiny whisper in your head that asks you if you Really Believe, it's necessary to dismiss that thought for the sake of feeling like your life has a direction, like it has a purpose. Church gave that to me, once upon a time, but that little whisper erupted into a scream and I couldn't bear to ignore it anymore.

There was a time when I thought I would have to be a missionary to be loved, when I thought that I was supposed to desire martyrdom, that martyrdom was only set aside for the truly holy. A lot of you have asked me what that tattoo on my shoulder means. Here's what it really means: I thought that martyrdom was something I was supposed to desire, something I was destined to if only I became really close to Jesus. That there was nothing as strong as the blood of the martyrs to speak of God's truth. And one day I realized that I didn't need to be a missionary, let alone a martyr, if I didn't really want it. That this life was meant to be enjoyed. That if I didn't travel the world preaching my love for Christ, I wouldn't be loved any less. So I stopped trying. I really did.

Where am I going with this.

So here I am, in an apartment in La Jolla, and it's the day before my last set of midterms. And I'm faced with wondering if anything matters anymore. If my life will ever amount to anything. I feel like I failed somewhere, long ago, and I never picked myself back up. I feel like I have lived the past 22 years in a whirlwind because I was too afraid to stop and look at my reflection. Really look at Myself. That I kept shaving my head and growing out my hair only to cut it short again and changing my image, changing locations, changing interests, changing, changing, always changing because I was too fucking scared to realize that I'm still the same. I've always been the fucking same. And I can't do anything to change that. I feel helpless, like I'm supposed to know what I'm going to do with the Rest Of My Life. That everyone else seems to, that everyone at least has some idea, some ruling passion, some direction, BUT I DON'T. I know, poor me, poor girl with an apartment in La Jolla and a job as a barista. But fuck. I've been nothing but a barista since high school. But the rest of my life, that isn't really the point is it. Everything leading up to this point in my life, that isn't the point either. The point is that there isn't any. I don't feel like there's ever been. Maybe there has been all along and my prison is to spend the rest of my life figuring it out.

A resume? Can I put down that I got rid of all of my possessions at one point? Will they hire me then? Can I write down that I used to spend every cent I had on clothes because what I'm really interested in is aesthetics? I moved to Berkeley once, does that count? Will it matter that I thought I was going to drop out of college for a year? That I have made so many mistakes, so many of them, and I'm sick of making the same ones over and over again? That I need a chance, just like the rest of the world? That I believe in luck, and I also believe that some people might have a jar of it, and that mine is just about used up? Well, fuck. I guess I better get back to memorizing the formula for standard deviation.

my sister is ridiculous:

2009-05-04T18:18:00.000-07:00

Hana: do you like my profile picture? isn't it cute?

Joana: NO

J: i'm going to haze it

J: i mean not haze

J: i'm going to vandalize it

H: what?

J: i'm going to vandalize it!

H: vandalize the picture?

J: YES

H: HAHAHAHAHHAHA

J: IN RETALIATION OF YOUR RIDICULOUSNESS

H: HAHAHAHAHAHAH

2009-05-04T12:35:00.000-07:00

remembering my fondness for nick drake:

A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
A day once dawned from the ground
Then the night she fell
And the air was beautiful
The night she fell all around.

So look see the days
The endless coloured ways
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning.

in the quivering forest

2009-04-29T01:02:00.001-07:00

(really mandy, i love you. with or without the videos.)

here is another gem:

Fleet Foxes - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

sufjan

2009-04-29T00:52:00.001-07:00

ok i'll be honest here. this is the sole reason why mandy ripley is one of my best friends. because she introduces me to stuff like this:

#50.2 - Sufjan Stevens (MusicNow) - The lakes of Canada
by lablogotheque

dream a little dream

2009-04-29T00:22:00.000-07:00

There are many people, grown-ups in particular, who say that young people are foolish, that young people have hopes and dreams that are unrealistic, unfounded, that young people can afford these kinds of luxuries. But what the youth possess that so many older generations no longer have, is fearlessness. And that, is something that time chips away, bit by bit, until there is none left, and we are all just a bunch of sad sticks afraid that something is going to disappoint us. What we come to realize is that there is nothing in this world worth relying on.

things are different now

2009-04-28T23:24:00.000-07:00

It's a different world, now, from when I was piecing Lego pieces together to resemble ranches and pretending Polly Pocket actually gave a shit about the Ball that was coming into town the next day. I can't understand how "touch applications" work nor how a cellphone charger can just die on you. I'm probably behind on the times; I guess it happens to the best of us. Does it matter if technology doesn't affect what you're trying to accomplish?

I'm sucking on a Fudgesicle, trying to remember the last time I had one in the bathtub with my sister. We used to pretend that we were hair stylists; we would take turns being the hair stylist. We would pretend that the bubbles meant something, that the bubbles meant we were being artsy and cutting-edge. We understood that hair was a form of expression, that a good cut could be the deciding factor between cool and hip. So I'm standing here, at a friend's new apartment in the hottest day of July, looking at a picture that she's nailing to the wall. And I'm sucking on a Fudgesicle. Is it straight, she asks, and she walks back to where I'm standing. It looks good to me but I tell her that it might be a little crooked. I really have no way of knowing, I tell her. I'm terrible with eye-balling things. She adjusts it a little to the left. It's still crooked, but I don't have the heart to tell her. It looks great, I say. She smiles. She rummages through a box. There's a little doll that I'd seen before. She puts it back into the box. I wonder when the sun is going to go back into hiding and when the night air will give us a break from the heat.

He's here again and I'm wondering if he'll tell me this time.

There was a time when I wasn't wondering all the time. When I wasn't confused about what was going on with my life. When I was sure about something, anything. I don't remember when that was, but I'm sure it's there, somewhere. I'm sure it's buried in the box of memories that I keep under my bed; every time I move, I take out the box and rummage through, taking out notable pictures and placing them aside, next to my bare feet, face up so I can thumb through them again. I don't know why I choose the pictures that I do, and I'm not sure if there's ever a pattern to these kinds of things, but I do it anyway.

He holds my head and tells me I'm his angel.

I think my knees knock up against the wooden floors when I'm not paying attention. When I'm not trying to hear my own heart beat, I think I can hear my joints hit the pavement. Hard.

How many times do I have to forget you?

from hawaii to san diego

2009-04-25T17:05:00.000-07:00

exhibit a: N teaches me how to take screen shots.

exhibit b-g: N likes to stick out his tongue.

2009-04-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

fall 09

mcqueen

well done drew, well done.

2009-04-21T00:59:00.001-07:00

sorry kids

2009-04-14T11:54:00.001-07:00

i now remember why i used to check nutrition facts for all the fast food/restaurants that i liked to frequent on campus when i was strapped for lunch. i'm never going near a rubio's fish burrito again.

chips excluded, a fish burrito weighs in at 710 calories with 360 of them being from fat. yummmmmm. i thought a bean and cheese wouldn't be as bad, but it's just about the same.

oh american mexican food.

what we do on our free time:

2009-04-13T22:38:00.001-07:00

(Bob Dylan softly playing on my Macbook).

(Nathan working on some Bioengineering Lab).

Obnoxious Car Alarm Goes Off.

N: "That is fun"

H: "How annoying."

Car alarm ends.

N: "That was kind of fun"

Nathan giggles.

I make exaggerated Nathan giggles.

H: "That's what you sound like!"

N: "You sound like a cow."

H: Exasperated sigh.

Nathan giggles again.

H: Sigh.

5 Minutes Later: Nathan is still giggling.

Nathan points and giggles exactly the same as before.

Just another night.

joni mitchell - hana

2009-04-13T22:13:00.000-07:00

i wish i was more like her:

Hana says when life's a drag
Don't cave in
Don't put up a white flag
Raise up
A white banner
In this manner-
Straighten your back
Dig in your heals
And get a good grip on your grief!

Hana says, "Don't get me wrong
This is no simple Sunday song
Where God or Jesus comes along
And they save ya."
You've got to be braver than that
You tackle the beast alone
With all its tenacious teeth!
Light the lamp.

2009-04-11T17:13:00.000-07:00

So I'm at work, cleaning up some dishes and brewing some chai tea. A woman comes up to the counter and asks me who the musician is on the speakers. "Joanna Newsom," I tell her. I'm excited that she's the fourth person to compliment the music. Then she says, "She has the most Annoying Voice." And she rubs her temples and cackles with pleasure (Displeasure?) "I've been listening to her for the past two hours and GOD." I give her a scathing look. And she walks out the door.

Thank you Joanna Newsom, for kicking this woman out of this cafe.

2009-04-10T09:31:00.000-07:00

planning something for someone you love is a wonderful thing.

2009-04-09T17:16:00.001-07:00

really, i don't usually post about this kind of nonsense. i mean, who really cares about celebrities anyway?

but BILLY CORGAN is dating TILA TEQUILA?

has the world gone absolutely mad?

life laid out in numbers

2009-04-08T22:42:00.001-07:00

1. i moved. back to la jolla. killing me softly...

2. i am in a nutrition class. skinny bitch had it right: high fructose corn syrup is the devil.

3. i am taking bikram yoga. god it's difficult.

4. i'm on a diet. this is the extent of my laziness: today i roamed the grocery store for an hour and a half, stocking up on essentials like sugar free jello and tuna cups. i'm contemplating whether or not i should stock up on more veggies since the ones i get always end up going bad somehow... and then i wander into the frozen veggie aisle. hellooooooo frozen individually packaged steamable veggies! i got 10. 10 of them. they're even lightly seasoned. veggies that never go bad. and i don't even have to scrounge around for a pot. god i'm pathetic.

5. i went back to the gym. first time back since N wandered into my life. yes, it's been 6 months. yes, i lost a good year's worth of hard exercise within 6 months. so i get on the treadmill and this treadmill asks you before you begin, how long will you be running for? god i hate it when they do that. because then you punch in something ambitious like 60 minutes! and you get pumped for about a minute and a half. and then you actually start running and you're thinking @$#% i can't do 60 minutes. and you start compromising in your head as you're running. and then you end up doing something really little like 15 or 20 minutes and you feel pathetic for not reaching your initial ambitious goal. it's really a problem. anyways, point of the day: i hate running.

6. i just got joanna newsom's milk eyed mender. discovering joanna newsom was kind of like when i discovered sufjan stevens. why the hell did it take me so long to purchase this album? any one of the songs on this album could have been The Theme Song for sooo many moments in the past two years.

7. zack snyder is awful. really, just awful.

8. is it true what mandy says about me? am i a negative nancy?

9. on that note: mandy, i'm giving up beer. (it's fattening).

10. current desktop picture:

there are no words.

2009-04-07T22:01:00.000-07:00

well, maybe some

2009-04-06T23:35:00.000-07:00

today's thought: when did i learn that # on a telephone keypad meant pound?

strawberry cupcakes today. i need easter ideas.

on escalators

2009-03-27T22:51:00.000-07:00

When I was young I was afraid of escalators. I remember being on one before I developed this paranoia and seeing the teeth sink into the metal floors at the very top and the very bottom and having the sinking feeling that I could get sucked in between the floor somehow... If my shoelace got caught in it, I would get sucked in with the rest of the escalator. And I couldn't comprehend where the belt part of the escalator went when it went under those metal floors.

So what I'm getting at is that one day after I developed this paranoia, after countless times of following my mom around at the mall and refusing to take the escalator every time, (can you imagine how annoying it must have been for my mom to go out of her way to find an elevator every single time we were trying to switch floors for her paranoid daughter?) my mom finally had it. She insisted we take the escalator. So I grabbed onto a pole and refused to budge. So my mom grabbed one of my arms and tried to pull me off. After all, how strong could a small 6 year old child be? But my elbow popped! It popped and it started swinging in this weird way, and I remember thinking that it was strange, but all my mom could do was watch it in horror for about 5 seconds before realizing that we were in a shopping mall and that people were staring. Now that I think about it, I can't imagine how horrified she must have felt at feeling like she had broken her daughter. Neither of us knew that an elbow could just be popped right back.

Not too long after this episode, when I was still paranoid about escalators, I remember being in Las Vegas with my family. We were sauntering around MGM, looking at Siegfried and Roy's white lions, when we got on an escalator. And my shoelace was loose. So we get on this escalator and at the very top, my worst fear becomes a truth, one of my personal experiences. How horrible is it when your worst fear actually happens? Especially at such a young age, when you still have hope that it never can? So my shoelace gets caught in the teeth at the very top of the escalator. And my initial reaction isn't to scream in horror or to cry in fear. It's to stand there silently and accept my fate. I'm going to get sucked into this stupid escalator. But this guy who was standing behind me and my family calmly kneels down and yanks my shoelace out of the teeth. You wouldn't believe my gratitude. When I try to remember the first time I ever understood gratitude, I always come back to this scene in my life. It's so silly, but I honestly thought it was the end of my life. If anything, I was standing there hoping that I'd suddenly turn into water and escape this whole thing.

the idiot

2009-03-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

On Hippolite's question on how best to die:

Pass by us and forgive us our happiness.

black bottom cupcakes

2009-02-23T22:38:00.000-08:00

here are my black bottom cupcakes:

here are nathan's black bottom cupcakes:

costco muffins and ice cream, what a splendid breakfast!

dear meg,

2009-02-23T11:24:00.001-08:00

you haven't updated your blog since your girlfriend moved up. just saying.

2009-02-19T17:18:00.001-08:00

"The thing is to understand myself, to see what God really wishes me to do: the thing is to find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I can live and die. ...I certainly do not deny that I still recognize an imperative of knowledge and that through it one can work upon men, but it must be taken up into my life, and that is what I now recognize as the most important thing."

-Soren Kierkegaard

2009-02-06T15:08:00.000-08:00

and our stars align

in elysian fields at night

and the wheels, they turn

and the fallen heather burns

what i've been saying:

2009-02-05T14:21:00.000-08:00

"I spent all day walking around the park, looking for something that might tell me something, but the problem was that I didn't know what I was looking for. I went up to people and asked if they knew anything that I should know... There was nothing, which would have been unfortunate, unless nothing was a clue. Was nothing a clue?"

EL&IC

2009-02-03T18:05:00.000-08:00

What I've been after, what I'm still after, is beauty. And maybe that is why I always thought I was in love, why I gave myself over to so many lovers. It sounds like justification to some extent, but maybe it's true, maybe it really is the reason why I was never able to commit, settle down to just one idea, because there is so much beauty in this world. What I'm trying to tell you darling, is that I tried to fly without being aware that my wings were waxen the entire time. And this is how much I love you: before you jumped off the cliff, I checked your wings twice.

2009-02-03T17:56:00.000-08:00

The stars fell above me in magnificent heaps and the blue moon glowed with a divine promise. It was a full moon tonight. The ship was quiet after the gaiety of the first night settled down. I felt like I was holding a secret. I looked down. An old woman was leaning over the railing of the bottom deck. She was leaning forward as if she was searching for something she had dropped. She was wearing a white dress, just as Mrs. B had described. But Mrs. B had been wrong about one thing. She had said the woman was wearing a wedding dress; in fact, the dress had no resemblance to one that a bride would wear on her wedding day. Though it was white, the dress looked like it was made for the bearer to weep in; it looked like it was made to be worn at a funeral.

2009-01-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

and i'm sure this is true, that we each possess the materials necessary for creating something extraordinary, the experience necessary for an incredible story, but not all of us are creators, not all of us are makers. artists are the craftsmen who can put it all together.

and i still have hope of finding something once lost

2009-01-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

I don't usually write things as they are. I usually write as they should be, or how I wish they would be. Thus I feel safe when I write. I can be as free as only my wishful thinking is capable of, and not feel like I am being silly. My feet don't hurt as much anymore. They did, when I was young, though. I was always buying pretty little shoes that didn't fit quite right. I know this idea may seem juvenile now, but back then I felt that I understood something, the moment I stopped buying pretty shoes because I felt ridiculous in them, because the cost of beauty was no longer worth the effort. I would see women on the public bus, older women, working women, and I would wonder if any of them were loved, if they were cherished by another, if they knew it, if they were alone, if they were scared of being alone, if their bones were tired, if their smiles would give me more insight into any of these thoughts. And my judgment of them had always rested on this simple idea of beauty, this idea that if a woman wasn't striving, then she wasn't worth anyone's affection - maybe that's who God is. I've been told that that's who he is, someone who doesn't require you to strive, someone who will give you affection because he made you into who you are. But that was never enough validation for me. I have always wanted to be admired for my efforts, not my lack of them. Sometimes I think my emotions are threadbare and as old as I am, I am still a fish trying to breathe on land, a small child who thinks she knows something, if not everything. I saw a man on the bus, with a head shaved down to the scalp, wearing a striped sweater, one that you can't find anywhere except on a person who has lived through a past greater than most young people these days. And he had rested his left elbow on the seat next to him, his hand stretched out before him, and he was looking down at it, flexing the muscles on his hand, gripping his fingers and then relaxing them, and then he did something even more astonishing. He took his right hand and began stroking the other with it, feeling the bones, the fingernails, clasping it, unclasping it. He was treating his left hand like he had never seen it before, like it was a separate entity, something he hadn't used everyday. And I thought, maybe that is what heaven is, a place where everything you had becomes familiar with is made new, where things are genuinely reintroduced, like when you're first born, except you are equipped with enough complexity that you can actually appreciate the novelty of new things.

"those who say a second is faster than a decade has not lived my life"

2009-01-20T22:13:00.000-08:00

I squandered my youth through my fear of being alone. It was a pressing fear, one that loomed over most of my choices as a young woman. I was afraid of being ugly. More specifically, I was afraid of being unwanted. What I need to tell you is this: I have made love to many men. I remember being a young woman and coming to that realization on a warm winter night. I had hosted a dinner party for a few friends and as they filed out, one by one, taking the comfort of company with them, as I slowly closed the door and locked the latch, I experienced a solid moment of utter loneliness, complete solitude. And suddenly everywhere I turned held a memory, an echo of something that had been, that was not anymore. I saw faces of past lovers in every space, heard their whispers and felt their kisses. My home was not mine any longer, it was theirs too, a shared space, and I wish it all meant something, that I thought more of myself, enough to want to take it all back. I have been touched, felt, caressed, and kissed, by many hands and many lips. But I feel nothing. There are those who wish they could store their emotions into tidy little jars and shelve them somewhere high. I wish I could take my jars and smash them on the floor, walk, run, and stomp on the broken glass until my feet bled so much that I felt something. Anything.

When I was a young girl my mother gave me a doll. It was a darling little thing, with a porcelain neck and face, skin the color of soft china. Her hair was a subtle gold, like the air of a young summer, and oh how I loved stroking it. I named her after myself and made her a dress out of the fabric from a dress I had once worn. My mother had given me the doll because work called her away and she thought I could use a companion in her absence. When my mother was gone I would sneak into her room and spread my mother's red lipstick across my little doll's

lips, smear eyeshadow across her cheeks and give it a glittery glow. And one night my mother

came home early. She heated up some food she had brought me and asked me to come into her room when I was done eating. I couldn't eat a bite. I remember that feeling of guilt very distinctly. That I had done something wrong. I went into my mother's room that night filled with dread and said nothing as she sat me down on her chair, the one in front of her small mirror. She began applying rouge on my cheeks, lipstick the color of red candle wax on my lips. And I didn't ask her why she was doing it; she softly told me what each tube and brush was for. Then she used them on my face. This was heaven, I thought. And I still refer to that moment of understanding to define what heaven might be like. And I understood then that she must have known what I had been doing all that time, and her reaction to it was so much more beautiful than what my young concept of beauty could have imagined. The possibility of beauty became so real to me after that gesture - and I still hope that I will never cease to be surprised by beautiful gestures. I do dearly hope that I will always be surprised at how beautiful people can be, that my definition of beauty will always have room for growth.

2009-01-20T00:58:00.001-08:00

"If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?"

- young Emily Dickinson

the halfway mark

2009-01-14T11:36:00.001-08:00

There was a time when I didn't have to write my name down before I forgot what it was. When I didn't have to write down where I was and what I was doing. I carry around a small notebook with me now, my name, address, phone number, so I know that it is me. That I am still here, though I don't really know what that means anymore. If I were to write you the story of my life, I would tell you to choose one thing. Give yourself over to it. Completely. Don't waste your youth. Love your body. Love yourself. Dream big and whittle down your doubts. Absorb everything and run everywhere. This is the culmination of everything I have been trying to tell you all these years: when I was a young girl I met a boy who gave me everything. And one day, he gave me a box wrapped with a big yellow bow and when I opened it, I found nothing inside. You see, his definition of love was reaching a silent understanding. So darling, this is the point of everything: if I were to give you an empty box, I would tell you exactly what was inside.

some things i read last night:

2009-01-13T11:56:00.000-08:00

But were it told to me, Today,
That I might have the Sky
For mine, I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me
emily dickinson

She had fallen in love so many times that she began to suspect she was not falling in love at all, but doing something much more ordinary.
jonathan safran foer

buy bon iver on vinyl and listen to mandy's book recommendations and this is what happens:

i threw up my sorrows
for the hope of being fooled
drank down your joys
for the sake of being loved

rule #1: do not talk about the eating group.

2009-01-13T11:53:00.000-08:00

good friends, good food, good wine, not so good aftereffects. all in all, the eating group keeps me sane. love you guys.

2008-12-28T22:21:00.000-08:00

there are a lot of things i'm afraid of and the list for those things changes all the time. what i'm most afraid of right now is that i'm unaware. unaware of my emotions. unaware of what's going on in the region of the heart. i feel like i should be feeling a lot of things. i feel like i should be going through a lot of things. but i've been fine and that scares me a little bit. i feel like i'm not aware of my emotions enough to be a writer.

holiday blues

2008-12-24T19:14:00.000-08:00

What is that feeling, the one you get when you are home and driving and there is no music in the car so you turn on a radio station that you used to listen to in high school and the DJ puts on a song, a song that you used to listen to on repeat sophomore year of high school while you thought about a boy that you could slow-dance to the song with, what is that feeling called, when you remember all those feelings that you felt when you heard that song at one point in your life, but you just remember them, you don't feel them? What is that feeling called, when you wake up one morning in a house that is no longer your home, a house you spent the majority of your life in, but one that you don't feel like you belong to anymore? What is that feeling, when you realize that you don't actually belong anywhere? What is that feeling called when you realize that you've grown out of things that you weren't quite ready to grow out of, that time has passed and that a new year is coming and you might not be ready to let go of the one you're in now?

I feel lonely when I come home, lonely in my thoughts and my opinions. Maybe it's because the church is so prevalent when I'm home, it's like this presence in my house and I feel like I can't escape it. I feel like I'm struggling against who I used to be when I'm at home, like it's hard to forget who I once was and I kind of despise myself for it. I am who I am now but it's still difficult for me to swallow the fact that I rebuked my family once, that I left them, all in the pursuit of God. I turned my back on them because I felt there was a higher calling. And I come home, now, and I look at them, now, and I feel sorrow for what I did. I'm always feeling sorrow for things I did. And home is the one place where I can't escape from my past mistakes, where I can't bury things. Because They Know. Because my family Knows me. They Know me and they still Love me. And that, that is terrifying. But I'm going to have to try harder now. We're all going to have to try harder now. And that is a Good Thing.

(Growing up is hard.)

i got my wisdom teeth pulled out today.

2008-12-23T17:03:00.000-08:00

here is my failed attempt at capturing the aftereffects of today's ordeal:

just two on one side of my mouth. my face is lopsided for the time being. and my dentist didn't put me to sleep. and he also did me the favor of letting me know that he had to dig and cut unusually deep because my tooth was so buried and therefore i would be in a lot more pain during the healing process. so for three hours i was sitting, wide awake and anxious that i would feel something, anything, any sort of pain, and i didn't, and because i didn't feel anything, i was panicking. what a weird feeling. and all i could think about the entire time was that line salinger uses in zooey's manuscript, the one he's reading over the bathtub, rick's part, when rick calls theresa a beautiful little moron. and how that is so similar to fitzgerald's phrase, when daisy is being dramatic about the birth of her daughter, when she says pretty little fool. and i was sitting there on the dentist chair for about three hours thinking of which one i liked better and why. and how i need to read more. and all that sort of thing.

2008-12-20T22:28:00.000-08:00

And we can have it all but it wouldn't be enough.

I miss having something to believe in. I think I must have been kinder when there was a God to put my faith in. A naive kind, but kind nonetheless. I think I more readily believed in things, in people, and I was easily convinced, easily impressed. Maybe I was happier. Was I selfish? Is Christianity selfish? Maybe it is in the sense that you are not really thinking of others in an effort to understand them, but you are thinking of yourself versus everybody else in an effort to change them. I've always had that contention with Christianity, the problem with Christians trying to change everyone without attempting to understand anyone.

And I know I'm offended by it, when someone says I am not who I'm supposed to be. What does supposed to be even look like?

pt. ii

2008-12-01T17:09:00.000-08:00

The streets are black. Neon in places. Moonlit pavement and hollow thuds of shoes, feet shuffling through more feet, of children and their tired parents, couples holding hands in line. His voice is mechanical. Something unclear, against the sounds of popping balloons and spraying water. His steps are heavy. I feel them. He stops. I follow. He lets go of my hand and we stand there for a still moment, and he's looking at me. I love you, he says. This and we are still standing, and I am looking at him. Sometimes I don't think he means it and I wonder if I do. I wonder if true love exists and if it does, is it supposed to be met halfway, is it supposed to be met at all. I wonder if it is supposed to be independent of what the other person is feeling. Do you think so, I ask him, and he says no. He says true love should be able to stand on its own, without the need for it to be met, mutual, remember Beethoven. And he grabs my hand. We're walking again, and faces pass us, but I am still wondering if true love exists, if it has legs to stand, or if it's just a dress some girls use to cover the scrapes on their knees. Am I one of them, I wonder. We walk to the car in silence and we undress each other in silence.

The night is electric. The hairs on his arms stand up. Like static. His hands are damp, cold like clams. I loosen my grip and the still air fills the space between our palms, fits mine like a pocket. He's kissing me real hard. Then our hands are pressing up against the glass and it's cold in parts. I feel it slip under my fingers. His grip presses my hand harder and I scrape new lines. He pushes himself in, further, and I pull him into me, closer. He gasps. I twist and our bodies form new shadows, new shapes under the moonlight. He follows my movements, pushing each time, and I suddenly feel understood. My head is pushing against the plastic, the car door, and his against the roof. he breathes out my name, a cry and a whisper. Our sounds fill the small space and our legs are hot, bent, my toes curled, and my body goes rigid under the motions of his hips. I'm almost there. The prickly beginnings of his beard scrape the soft flesh of my neck, just there below my ear. I'm almost there. My thoughts are frozen. A moment of clarity. His motions grow desperate, mine frenzied. The moment crescendoes with his cries and his hands gasp around my face, then shoulders, and back as he pushes himself further. And then I'm there. He's there. I feel my contractions and his, simultaneous. Then it's our bodies, collapsing into each other. Loose bodies, soft breaths, and the air is stale from our sweat. The air is still. And he's looking at me.

His body is heavy on mine but I still feel weightless. All urgency is gone but my breaths have already grown forceful. His face is lying still on my neck and our chests are resting together. Tell me I'm pretty, I say, and he lifts his head. My neck is cold. My chest is cold. Our bodies are still damp and the air clings to them like bedsheets would. He looks at me and lifts my head with both hands, lifts it closer to his, suspended, and he kisses me. You're pretty, he says, and he kisses my cheek. You're pretty, he repeats, and he kisses my forehead. You're pretty. My nose. You're pretty. My eye. You're pretty. My chin. You're pretty, he says. and he kisses me again, this time on the mouth, soft at first, real gentle, and then again, and again, each time getting harder, until the moment dwindles down and our eyes are both open. He's looking at me again. And I tell him then, this is a memory I'd like to keep.

2008-11-30T01:02:00.001-08:00

annie dillard goes into this stint in pilgrim at tinker creek about how beautiful things occur in nature whether we're watching our not. it's like that old question about if the sound of a tree falling actually occurs if nobody is there to hear it... anyways, i just got home from saerom's house and i am sitting at my computer in the dark, checking my e-mail, and i hear my little dog candy saunter over to her little newspaper where she usually dumps her business, and the newspaper rustles a little as she positions herself on it. all sound suddenly stops, except for the clicking of my mouse, and then i hear a fart. it was a cute little spurt of a fart. and it was completely adorable. only from something as little as a dog with a button-sized nose could a sound like that elicit a huge smile rather than a disgusted face from the person witnessing that moment. also, sentence construction is really difficult at 1 in the morning.

the leavers dance

2008-11-19T16:52:00.000-08:00

The wind rippled tiny stalks of grass and the moonlight shone real bright. I leaned in closer. She smelled like blown out candles and her skin felt soft, waxen, against my fingers. Her hair fell in circles around her shoulders. She was wearing it down. I could see the weight of her eyelids and that small smile, the one that ruined me every time, creeping upwards, and I kissed her. I laid down on the cement bench, my head resting in her lap, and her fingers were in my hair, soft strokes and gentle reminders that she loved me too. I closed my eyes. She began to hum. I've only known you for a month, I said. She didn't stop humming, but I could hear the smile beginning to take shape.

- I know, she said.
- I still can't believe it, I opened my eyes. Searched for hers.
- I think I've always known you though, she said, and she shifted to cross her legs.
- Do you believe in soulmates?
- Sometimes, she paused.
- I waited for her to complete her thought.
- Sometimes I think that, she paused again, I suppose I don't believe in them, no I really don't.
- Commitment and devotion are two different things, I said.
- I think that the idea behind soulmates is that there isn't much work involved, she began to fumble around in her purse, black leather, and she pulled out a box of camels, a small lighter.
- Matches drive me insane, I said.
- But maybe that's not true, she said, I just feel like any two people can end up together, like really end up together, and be able to make a life together, she took out a cigarette, handed me one, brought another to her mouth and cupped her small hand over the end as she lit it, a cherry red flame, smoke.
- But when the levels of devotion are uneven, I paused as she lit the cigarette in my mouth, dangling and then a bright glow.
- Then that relationship needs to end, she let the smoke fall from her lips, upwards, past her freckled nose, disperse in the cold night air.

I sat up. The hollow sound of drumbeats, rhythmic and scattered, echoed through the open door, and the dancers began filing out, one by one, drunken, happy, leaving behind a thick scent, dark with musk. Dead leaves, withered and skeletal, shuffled around their feet and I heard the music suddenly fade as the door to the livewire closed. The quiet was sudden, and I looked for her. Her cigarette was down to the filter, and she brought it up to her mouth anyway, sucked in without looking, and exhaled, frowning, dropped the butt and crushed the cherry beneath her stiletto. She pressed her hand into my leg, just above the knee, and she turned her head, looked at me real good, and smiled differently, bigger, more crooked, and she said I love you. I love you too, I said, and i put the dying cigarette out with one hand and felt for her hand with the other.

hi, hello

2008-11-15T18:25:00.001-08:00