It's never what you think it's going to be, & that is doubly so when you aren't certain of something to begin with.
"This is childish. You're so concerned with having the last word, aren't you?"
It's not as much as I wanted the last word as much as I wanted there to be no more words. How could someone I had only known for a few weeks rankle me so badly that I wished for a shelf of tchotchkes I could knock down in one fell swoop. So I also wish I had hardwood floors instead of this remnant carpeting. Brown can hide a multitude of sins, but the nap will absorb your energy without making a sound to show for it.
While I half-listened to Wallace rant on about my decidedly— to him— puerile behavior, I searched in my head for signals that I may have missed along the way which would have indicated that it was going to unfold like this. A mutation in the genetic structure that made this pairing unsound & would have eventually meant cancer. It was there all along, but it was too small to notice until things went south suddenly. The symptoms picked up speed at a breathtaking clip, like a shiny thoroughbred approaching the first gate.
I could live without any of this. The tedious graciousness of listening to someone I'm barely familiar with dissect my personality made my bones ache. It's not as though any of us is beyond admonishment, but how often do we get to receive it from someone we know socially who doesn't even know an eighth of our lives? An eighth of an understanding of me is all I'm asking. Can't this task be reserved for those who have seen me through much more than some tacos & a magic show?
I think I used to feel things more for people to this over-the-top degree. I remember taking a bus across town in the pissing rain to see a boy seven years ago. I was wearing a thin coat that didn't do much other than make it appear as though I was covered when I was suffering from about the same amount of exposure as I would without it, & a pair of flats I knew would fill from puddles & never be the same. My father would not approve of such an impractical choice of footwear, & I would think to a pair of pink sneakers he insisted I wear in 1993. The flats were not the same after that- the leather lost some luster, & the stress wrinkles were slightly puffier. It was worth it, to give up a few more months with those shoes that I had to work five hours to pay for just to have seen the expression on the face of that person who took me in & appreciated my effort. That expression might have been the entire point of our relationship. This memory, stood on its own, does suffice for me, after all that was said & done.
I would not do that any of that now. Now, I would expect someone to meet me at some halfway point, & if it rained, I would just wear boots. I have more sense & less abandon, & I couldn't expect Wallace to understand this. Had he an inkling of twenty-three-year-old me, she would be his preference. She was volatile & self-sacrificing to a fault; these days, I try to be more measured. She spent the last of her paycheck to fly to be with someone for only four days. I no longer cringe when I look back on it, but I cringe to think of those missed signals that stated in all capitols not to board that plane, absolutely so.
Baudrillard says we find the value of something in the differences from other somethings, and the value of Wallace & that of myself was decidedly stark. It had all been a process of elimination is all, & the code for protein in a fruit fly is going to be the same code that is within us. You start with the similarities until you find the fork. Now I veer left, you go right.
I knew I had arrived at the part of the fork where I could no longer see him going his other way as I listened to him start a yarn on a yogi. His tone took that of a substitute teacher trying to endear himself to a class full of children who regarded him with mild contempt for being so unfamiliar. It made me squirm, but I was too curious about how he was going to bring it home to cut him off. "It was a gift to know this yogi." Yogi what, I was dying inside to ask, but something in me said that maybe he never knew a yogi, that this yogi was a means to illustrate a point I hoped for him to arrive to faster. "The yogi was always performing acts of charity, & while he improved a lot of lives with his acts-" 'his acts'? He's saying this like he's giving a eulogy. OH WAIT, I get it, this IS a eulogy, which means the end is so close you can nearly grasp it like a fruit dangling near your reach! You've grazed its skin, so you know at some angle, some way, it will be yours!
"...while he improved a lot of lives with his acts, there was something in his...his manner...it...it just didn't sit well with me. Like...like there was this egotism to his charity. I respected what he did, but I just felt a certain impersonal, kind of detachedness from him." I felt this hotness spread through me, like phantom hives as I began to understand the parallel he was drawing. It was too late to stop him because my curiosity, as it is wont to do, had already dug its dirty claws into me. Apparently the faithful way I cling to my personal truth is off-putting to the lad in such a way that I throw off some kind of chill. I'm a freezer, preserving my hermetically-sealed notions, & when opened up I will emit some arctic blast that compels those well-intentioned, warm-bodied men curious about my insides to slam me shut after some minor investigation. Brace yourselves boys, she's a frosty one!
The end came before I saw it. His tone shifted from grotesquely ginger to warp speed so quickly it could snap a calf's neck. "Itwasnicewhileitlastedgoodbye," call ended. His was the low-hanging fruit of the last word, that acerbic, wormy little crab apple of a thing. I walked into my bathroom to watch myself laugh in the medicine cabinet mirror, laughing more when I noticed how big my teeth look.
6.24.2011
7.28.2010
Cleansiness*
Preface to my post:
I have to admit, I've been taken aback by how many people have been asking me why I haven't been updating my blog. Thanks, dudes! I didn't know that many people read it (I don't usually get much feedback in the way of comments...clearly my old LiveJournal spoiled me). I mostly wasn't updating out of sheer laziness, & to a lesser extent everything I felt compelled to write about was far too personal. I know! I used to write about whatever I was peeving or exciting me at that moment (again, LJ), but when you're married, you have to be a little more discreet. (Now, I just relegate those topics to conversation with a handful of like-minded friends.) Apparently, in my head, UTIs are fair game. But that's as far as I'll go! Though I'm about to mine some other somewhat personal territory. My treat to you!
A few weeks ago, a trusted adviser recommended that I do a Candida cleanse. (If you don't know what Candida is, I hope you're a gay male.) I took her suggestion seriously, despite the fact she decorates her office with crushed velvet (OK, I sort of find that charming). I knew she was onto something because I'd been feeling a bit low & tired, & if this cleanse was going to help correct any of this, I was more than willing.
Willing, but nervous. The last time I had to follow strict dietary advise was almost exactly a year ago. It was handed down to me from my acupuncturist, & for a month I was supposed to eat from a very narrow list of foods that excluded dairy, sugar, anything fermented (read: BOOZE) & some other strange items I forget. The information & list were poorly translated from Japanese, & suggested I do eat frog legs, ume & carp amongst other things. (I did wind up getting a hold of some ume.) I lasted two weeks of the month I was supposed to adhere to the diet before completely losing my shit. Barley congee for breakfast, followed by a handful of radishes? I could barley handle it. (Sorry.)
Here's the gist of the current diet: No dairy unless it's cultured cottage cheese or plain yogurt, nothing fermented, no sugar, no fruit except Granny Smith apples (which aren't in season here, so forget that too unless you enjoy mealy fruit that's been shipped from Chile), berries are OK after the first week, no starch, not even whole wheat or spelt, no mushrooms, no processed anything. At first, it just sounds kind of daunting, but when you realize how many things are fermented- vinegar & soy, for example- & how many things contain vinegar & soy or how palatable those two items make vegetables, it almost makes you think your best bet is to skip the store & just start foraging at the park for your meals. I'm sure grubs & crab grass are alright!
Thankfully, my vegetable & whole grain cooking game is solid. I don't see how anyone who doesn't like to cook or lacks a general grasp of recipes could stick to this. You have to prepare everything yourself usually, & if you're staring at a salad of under-seasoned/spiced, over-cooked quinoa & mushy broccoli, you're bound to get depressed & chuck the whole program with your sad failure of a dinner. Variety is key, but if you can't see the possibilities residing in your greatly-reduced list of comestibles, you're shit out of luck.
I went straight into it on the morning of Monday the 19th, & I've been faithful to the regime for the past week & a half (I can start incorporating foods back into my diet on the 5th of August). About three days after I started, I found this herbal kit that was also recommended to go with the cleanse. I've taken Chinese herbs before, which worked well for me at the time, but I was skeptical of this kit at first that I could just buy at a health shop, without a practitioner writing a prescription of a blend of things best suited for me. I did decide to give it a go after I noticed on the site that customer reviews aren't screened, & they were mostly really positive with a few bummer ones. That kind of transparency usually puts me at ease.
Paul & I have the kidlet for a weeks of summer from his mom, & I thought that if I'm going to have to go booze-free, the easiest time would be when I'm responsible for the well-being of a child, amirite? Haha, that's a fucking joke, dummy. Wine is one of the best ways to decompress after the demon seed is put to bed. Of course, I did this also realizing that I'd be making my own meals along side theirs, but I've become adept at making what I need in advance so that I'm not cooking anything with divided attention. No one suffers, mostly!
For the first three days, I felt haggard. It's hard to tell if that's because I was with a seven-year-old all day, just the two of us, or withdrawal from sugar & delicious drank. Most likely both. My teetotaler step-mom had told me the worst part of giving up drinking was lying in bed, being kept awake by the myriad of thoughts she used to be able to ignore with self-indulgence. Yes, exactly this. It's hard to explain exactly- I'm not an alcoholic, & I don't drink every night- but it seems like booze & certain foods that are starchy/sugar, "comfort foods" really are precisely that. This fog of false comfort makes everything seem so much easier going, until you realize you're vaguely sick all of time. I hadn't realize how many bad habits I had accumulated.
It's not as though I had been routinely devouring crap; it's more like a lot of little things that built up. I've been totally aware of this for a while. The thought to do something similar had crossed my mind many times since my past failure at balancing my overly-wet qi. It seems every time I've attempted to plan to do this (yeah, not exactly throwing myself into it), there were upcoming lunches/dinners, someone's birthday, a show, SOMETHING that made me decide it wasn't a good time. Also, we all have had some friend or acquaintance who undertakes such a thing & cannot shut their fucking faces up about it long enough for you to change the subject. That's the last person I want to be. I know this girl who was hanging out with our mutual friends & me one night who wouldn't stop prattling on about her macrobiotic diet (what is that, anyway?) that we essentially dropped her off on the street corner & headed for a bar. OK, there was a lot more to it than that, but self-obsession was the source of it. So I made a rule for myself not to discuss it if someone asks me why I'm not eating a hot dog or drinking at the show.
In case you still think I'm a lunatic, or that my Naboo facilitated some kind of soul-switching between me & Susan Powter for the sake of my physical health, let me list for the benefits of this cleanse so far.
1. The mental health bit
So part of my problem was mostly emanating from my impetuousness. As in, if I want a little something, I'll have a little something, even if it's a poor, thoughtless choice. This never just applies to food or booze. Being more mindful of my choices & their consequences reminds me just how much control I can have if I care to wield it. I know that sounds incredibly cheesy, but it does because it's so very true. If you're living in a fog, you can't see clearly. TRUTH.
2. Self-awareness & acknowledgment of what I had been doing to myself all this time
Also, you start to re-prioritize a lot of things. I thought I was going to starve, initially, even though I'm getting everything I need from my food without everything I don't. I've remembered why a treat is called a 'treat'- because it's supposed to be something you don't usually enjoy, not something that comes after every dinner, or just because you feel like it. Though a treat isn't just something sweet, a treat can be as simple as a nectarine or a hunk of crusty baguette with a smear of demi-sel beurre. Those two things aren't horrible taken on their own, but when you realize much of what you eat consists of such simple pleasures, you realize you haven't done much to substantiate having them. You get free bread at the restaurant, so you eat it. You have to order a side of veg extra, so you don't. I order a glass of champie because lunch with so-&-so can be slightly unbearable otherwise, which is why I excused having three. Every little concession you make is usually representative of five others!
If you've ever made a lot of meals at home, you're usually more conscious of how much say, cream you're adding to your sauce. (In a restaurant, they add as much salt/cream/butter as it takes to make you feel delighted at full at first bite, but compel you to eat moremoremore.) This cleanse takes cooking a step further from being judicious about 'naughty' ingredients. You have to get creative to make things delicious. I like this. Also, all of that vegetable chopping puts you in a meditative state. See, it's all good for you!
3. You knew I was going to go there...regularity
I think this speaks for itself. Women, you know you're more sensitive to your diet than men. I'm sorry to point this out to you, but you know it's true. No, I'm not discussing weight- in fact, I'm not discussing that at all in this post.
4. Enjoying myself in a genuine way
Like I mentioned in 2., drinking can get away from you. DUH. I met up with an old, dear friend I hadn't seen for months the other night, as it was her birthday & she's leaving the country soon. I was going by myself (as I get older, it's harder to convince friends to come out on a Monday night), & I do suffer from social anxiety a lot. If I'm not drinking. & I hadn't seen her for a while, so was sort of worried that I might run out of things to say. I was also concerned that I wouldn't be able to relax & be myself without a nip of nectar if I had to talk to people I don't know well or never met before. Yeah, I was just fine. OK, so I did wait for her & her boyf to arrive outside the club because a room full of strangers sends me into a flop-sweat, & I did leave at 12.30a because I was began to feel claustrophobic. I still had fun despite my hang-ups, so there you go. I'm sure it takes some practice getting use to anyhow.
5. More energy
Tons more, & I feel less frazzled. I can focus a lot better too. Hell, I've written this straight through, pausing only to feel out the next part & re-read/edit.
6. Skin
My face is- BONG- clear as a bell. Also, believe it or not, my cellulite as improved after just ten days.
I won't lie to you though. It's been a challenge, even though it's gotten easier. I had to make a dessert for a lunch at my parents' house, not to mention, bring my own lunch. I've had to watch my loved ones eat luscious-looking food. I can't stop thinking of the variety of sheep's milk cheese we had at the local Basque joint a few weeks ago. The worst has actually been not be able to taste my cooking if it's not intended for me. I had to ask Paul if the Bolognese I made for him & Nick had enough salt. I'm thinking that maybe though, instead of just hitting the re-set button on my body that I'm also doing that to my palate, my approach to food indefinitely.
*In case you didn't know, 'cleansiness' was an eggcorn somewhat famously spoken by this horrible person on the show, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, in lieu of 'cleanliness'. If you already knew that, I love you that much more.
I have to admit, I've been taken aback by how many people have been asking me why I haven't been updating my blog. Thanks, dudes! I didn't know that many people read it (I don't usually get much feedback in the way of comments...clearly my old LiveJournal spoiled me). I mostly wasn't updating out of sheer laziness, & to a lesser extent everything I felt compelled to write about was far too personal. I know! I used to write about whatever I was peeving or exciting me at that moment (again, LJ), but when you're married, you have to be a little more discreet. (Now, I just relegate those topics to conversation with a handful of like-minded friends.) Apparently, in my head, UTIs are fair game. But that's as far as I'll go! Though I'm about to mine some other somewhat personal territory. My treat to you!
A few weeks ago, a trusted adviser recommended that I do a Candida cleanse. (If you don't know what Candida is, I hope you're a gay male.) I took her suggestion seriously, despite the fact she decorates her office with crushed velvet (OK, I sort of find that charming). I knew she was onto something because I'd been feeling a bit low & tired, & if this cleanse was going to help correct any of this, I was more than willing.
Willing, but nervous. The last time I had to follow strict dietary advise was almost exactly a year ago. It was handed down to me from my acupuncturist, & for a month I was supposed to eat from a very narrow list of foods that excluded dairy, sugar, anything fermented (read: BOOZE) & some other strange items I forget. The information & list were poorly translated from Japanese, & suggested I do eat frog legs, ume & carp amongst other things. (I did wind up getting a hold of some ume.) I lasted two weeks of the month I was supposed to adhere to the diet before completely losing my shit. Barley congee for breakfast, followed by a handful of radishes? I could barley handle it. (Sorry.)
Here's the gist of the current diet: No dairy unless it's cultured cottage cheese or plain yogurt, nothing fermented, no sugar, no fruit except Granny Smith apples (which aren't in season here, so forget that too unless you enjoy mealy fruit that's been shipped from Chile), berries are OK after the first week, no starch, not even whole wheat or spelt, no mushrooms, no processed anything. At first, it just sounds kind of daunting, but when you realize how many things are fermented- vinegar & soy, for example- & how many things contain vinegar & soy or how palatable those two items make vegetables, it almost makes you think your best bet is to skip the store & just start foraging at the park for your meals. I'm sure grubs & crab grass are alright!
Thankfully, my vegetable & whole grain cooking game is solid. I don't see how anyone who doesn't like to cook or lacks a general grasp of recipes could stick to this. You have to prepare everything yourself usually, & if you're staring at a salad of under-seasoned/spiced, over-cooked quinoa & mushy broccoli, you're bound to get depressed & chuck the whole program with your sad failure of a dinner. Variety is key, but if you can't see the possibilities residing in your greatly-reduced list of comestibles, you're shit out of luck.
I went straight into it on the morning of Monday the 19th, & I've been faithful to the regime for the past week & a half (I can start incorporating foods back into my diet on the 5th of August). About three days after I started, I found this herbal kit that was also recommended to go with the cleanse. I've taken Chinese herbs before, which worked well for me at the time, but I was skeptical of this kit at first that I could just buy at a health shop, without a practitioner writing a prescription of a blend of things best suited for me. I did decide to give it a go after I noticed on the site that customer reviews aren't screened, & they were mostly really positive with a few bummer ones. That kind of transparency usually puts me at ease.
Paul & I have the kidlet for a weeks of summer from his mom, & I thought that if I'm going to have to go booze-free, the easiest time would be when I'm responsible for the well-being of a child, amirite? Haha, that's a fucking joke, dummy. Wine is one of the best ways to decompress after the demon seed is put to bed. Of course, I did this also realizing that I'd be making my own meals along side theirs, but I've become adept at making what I need in advance so that I'm not cooking anything with divided attention. No one suffers, mostly!
For the first three days, I felt haggard. It's hard to tell if that's because I was with a seven-year-old all day, just the two of us, or withdrawal from sugar & delicious drank. Most likely both. My teetotaler step-mom had told me the worst part of giving up drinking was lying in bed, being kept awake by the myriad of thoughts she used to be able to ignore with self-indulgence. Yes, exactly this. It's hard to explain exactly- I'm not an alcoholic, & I don't drink every night- but it seems like booze & certain foods that are starchy/sugar, "comfort foods" really are precisely that. This fog of false comfort makes everything seem so much easier going, until you realize you're vaguely sick all of time. I hadn't realize how many bad habits I had accumulated.
It's not as though I had been routinely devouring crap; it's more like a lot of little things that built up. I've been totally aware of this for a while. The thought to do something similar had crossed my mind many times since my past failure at balancing my overly-wet qi. It seems every time I've attempted to plan to do this (yeah, not exactly throwing myself into it), there were upcoming lunches/dinners, someone's birthday, a show, SOMETHING that made me decide it wasn't a good time. Also, we all have had some friend or acquaintance who undertakes such a thing & cannot shut their fucking faces up about it long enough for you to change the subject. That's the last person I want to be. I know this girl who was hanging out with our mutual friends & me one night who wouldn't stop prattling on about her macrobiotic diet (what is that, anyway?) that we essentially dropped her off on the street corner & headed for a bar. OK, there was a lot more to it than that, but self-obsession was the source of it. So I made a rule for myself not to discuss it if someone asks me why I'm not eating a hot dog or drinking at the show.
In case you still think I'm a lunatic, or that my Naboo facilitated some kind of soul-switching between me & Susan Powter for the sake of my physical health, let me list for the benefits of this cleanse so far.
1. The mental health bit
So part of my problem was mostly emanating from my impetuousness. As in, if I want a little something, I'll have a little something, even if it's a poor, thoughtless choice. This never just applies to food or booze. Being more mindful of my choices & their consequences reminds me just how much control I can have if I care to wield it. I know that sounds incredibly cheesy, but it does because it's so very true. If you're living in a fog, you can't see clearly. TRUTH.
2. Self-awareness & acknowledgment of what I had been doing to myself all this time
Also, you start to re-prioritize a lot of things. I thought I was going to starve, initially, even though I'm getting everything I need from my food without everything I don't. I've remembered why a treat is called a 'treat'- because it's supposed to be something you don't usually enjoy, not something that comes after every dinner, or just because you feel like it. Though a treat isn't just something sweet, a treat can be as simple as a nectarine or a hunk of crusty baguette with a smear of demi-sel beurre. Those two things aren't horrible taken on their own, but when you realize much of what you eat consists of such simple pleasures, you realize you haven't done much to substantiate having them. You get free bread at the restaurant, so you eat it. You have to order a side of veg extra, so you don't. I order a glass of champie because lunch with so-&-so can be slightly unbearable otherwise, which is why I excused having three. Every little concession you make is usually representative of five others!
If you've ever made a lot of meals at home, you're usually more conscious of how much say, cream you're adding to your sauce. (In a restaurant, they add as much salt/cream/butter as it takes to make you feel delighted at full at first bite, but compel you to eat moremoremore.) This cleanse takes cooking a step further from being judicious about 'naughty' ingredients. You have to get creative to make things delicious. I like this. Also, all of that vegetable chopping puts you in a meditative state. See, it's all good for you!
3. You knew I was going to go there...regularity
I think this speaks for itself. Women, you know you're more sensitive to your diet than men. I'm sorry to point this out to you, but you know it's true. No, I'm not discussing weight- in fact, I'm not discussing that at all in this post.
4. Enjoying myself in a genuine way
Like I mentioned in 2., drinking can get away from you. DUH. I met up with an old, dear friend I hadn't seen for months the other night, as it was her birthday & she's leaving the country soon. I was going by myself (as I get older, it's harder to convince friends to come out on a Monday night), & I do suffer from social anxiety a lot. If I'm not drinking. & I hadn't seen her for a while, so was sort of worried that I might run out of things to say. I was also concerned that I wouldn't be able to relax & be myself without a nip of nectar if I had to talk to people I don't know well or never met before. Yeah, I was just fine. OK, so I did wait for her & her boyf to arrive outside the club because a room full of strangers sends me into a flop-sweat, & I did leave at 12.30a because I was began to feel claustrophobic. I still had fun despite my hang-ups, so there you go. I'm sure it takes some practice getting use to anyhow.
5. More energy
Tons more, & I feel less frazzled. I can focus a lot better too. Hell, I've written this straight through, pausing only to feel out the next part & re-read/edit.
6. Skin
My face is- BONG- clear as a bell. Also, believe it or not, my cellulite as improved after just ten days.
I won't lie to you though. It's been a challenge, even though it's gotten easier. I had to make a dessert for a lunch at my parents' house, not to mention, bring my own lunch. I've had to watch my loved ones eat luscious-looking food. I can't stop thinking of the variety of sheep's milk cheese we had at the local Basque joint a few weeks ago. The worst has actually been not be able to taste my cooking if it's not intended for me. I had to ask Paul if the Bolognese I made for him & Nick had enough salt. I'm thinking that maybe though, instead of just hitting the re-set button on my body that I'm also doing that to my palate, my approach to food indefinitely.
*In case you didn't know, 'cleansiness' was an eggcorn somewhat famously spoken by this horrible person on the show, The Real Housewives of New Jersey, in lieu of 'cleanliness'. If you already knew that, I love you that much more.
11.16.2009
A couple of things regarding my previous post.
I shouldn't blame Mr Blake. I think my susceptibility has much to do with my unfortunate make-up. He doesn't come at me anything less than sparklingly clean (as should be the case with anyone).
This mechanic school, University Technical Institute (or as they call themselves, UTI), must be shooting for zero female enrollment. Considering how nonsensical their name is, they worked really hard to come up with something that could stand for UTI, didn't they?
This mechanic school, University Technical Institute (or as they call themselves, UTI), must be shooting for zero female enrollment. Considering how nonsensical their name is, they worked really hard to come up with something that could stand for UTI, didn't they?
Patient, heal thyself!
This has nothing to do with cooking, but it does involve two common pantry items. So I thought, fuck it, on to my blog it goes.
Mid-week, I came down with what had to be the most inopportune infection I've had, of the lady-variety. Yup. A UTI. Or as my gay friend, Joe, says, "UTI? TMI!" I suppose gay men are excused from this conversation, but if you're a woman or you fuck them, it's fairly relevant.
For the past five years or so, I've been plagued with these things about three to four times a year. First, it starts with a twinge when you're done pissing. You think to yourself, "AW, HELL NO," but yes, you know precisely what it is. Still, we sometimes try to fool ourselves into thinking we aren't on what is certainly a steep decline into physical misery. What had started as a twinge turns into a full-blown burning that reduces the most self-possessed woman mental.
By the time it gets to be that bad, some of us reach for the bitter & tart swill we hope will flush the bugger out: 100% cranberry juice (an unlikely cure for sure). By now, you're asking yourself why you don't take cranberry pills every day (something in the berry makes it difficult for the offending bacteria from climbing up inside one of our most sensitive bits). Those things aren't cheap though. You dread calling your doctor to get antibiotics for fear he/she will either regard you as dirty (for not pissing right after sex, or wiping correctly, which if you don't know how to do at this stage...), or a slut (hey! some of us chose to have a social life, & some of us chose to forgo one to go to medical school). Perhaps this will add fuel to the Judeo-Christian pov that women are inherently evil & that God punishes us summarily with our bodies: having sex with someone new sometimes triggers this. I would be remiss to not mention that I get them from Mr Blake still (thanks again!).
In the throws of this truly mind-fucking agony, I often wonder what women in the medieval times did in similar situations. Really, because unchecked, this shit goes from your urethra, to your bladder & then your kidneys. I bet after two weeks, most suffers would be dead. Life expectancy being what it was, I wouldn't be shocked if this type of infection killed a sizable chunk of women.
That's just one of the few thoughts that run through my head as I struggle to urinate. Another more pertinent thought is where the fucking fuck is the UTI vaccine? I mean, we got to rabies, but not a more frequently debilitating illness? Oh, right. Lady disease is naturally less important. Pardon my directness, but being able to comfortably relieve ourselves is sometimes the only pleasant thing going on for us (& others of us, sadly, more often than not). Finding a vaccine to ensure this should be much more of a priority. Is carefree pissing for all not a compelling enough reason for you? Try this: I've probably had about twenty of these. The amount of time & cost involved with my taking time off of work, the time the nurse prepares my chart for my doctor, my doctor signing off on a script & making a notation in my chart, my nurse faxing the script to the pharmacy, the pharmacist preparing my prescription, & whatever ridiculous charges & resulting paperwork-clusterfuck with the insurance company should be compelling enough. If you're really that inhumane.
So I have to ask myself: if I'm miserable & this many people are involved, whom exactly is benefiting? Say it with me now: drug companies! Do you think all the time & money spent on research & jumping through FDA hoops is worth it to them for a UTI vaccine if there's something that already exists to treat the problem? Treat, not prevent, which seems to be the theme of healthcare in these parts... Simply put, they do not give a shit. Never mind that I personally would trade nearly anything I can lay my eyes on in my home for such a thing. A vaccine that important would need to accessible to all, however, not just some desperate middle-class hussy.
What also occurred to me on this familiar & cringe-full affair also was that taking antibiotics so often is tempting fate. Will they always work? Or will I contract some super-UTI that will do my ass in? They also make me sick, & sometimes (brace yourselves) give women yeast infections. Talk about adding insult to injury! So since I knew I caught this so soon, I searched for some answers online. Basically, you drink baking soda in water, follow that with more & more water, & you're right as rain.
Why have I not known this before? I also have been swallowing many minced cloves of garlic as it is a natural antibiotic, & I figured it wouldn't hurt. Done. Gone. About one dollar invested. Here's the deal though: I didn't take any pain killers. I thought that if I took a turn for the worse & was on something that would mask this, I should abstain. I could tell my body was trying very hard to cooperate (criminy! the pain), so I'm glad everything worked out.
I'm sure when I updated, you weren't expecting this.
Mid-week, I came down with what had to be the most inopportune infection I've had, of the lady-variety. Yup. A UTI. Or as my gay friend, Joe, says, "UTI? TMI!" I suppose gay men are excused from this conversation, but if you're a woman or you fuck them, it's fairly relevant.
For the past five years or so, I've been plagued with these things about three to four times a year. First, it starts with a twinge when you're done pissing. You think to yourself, "AW, HELL NO," but yes, you know precisely what it is. Still, we sometimes try to fool ourselves into thinking we aren't on what is certainly a steep decline into physical misery. What had started as a twinge turns into a full-blown burning that reduces the most self-possessed woman mental.
By the time it gets to be that bad, some of us reach for the bitter & tart swill we hope will flush the bugger out: 100% cranberry juice (an unlikely cure for sure). By now, you're asking yourself why you don't take cranberry pills every day (something in the berry makes it difficult for the offending bacteria from climbing up inside one of our most sensitive bits). Those things aren't cheap though. You dread calling your doctor to get antibiotics for fear he/she will either regard you as dirty (for not pissing right after sex, or wiping correctly, which if you don't know how to do at this stage...), or a slut (hey! some of us chose to have a social life, & some of us chose to forgo one to go to medical school). Perhaps this will add fuel to the Judeo-Christian pov that women are inherently evil & that God punishes us summarily with our bodies: having sex with someone new sometimes triggers this. I would be remiss to not mention that I get them from Mr Blake still (thanks again!).
In the throws of this truly mind-fucking agony, I often wonder what women in the medieval times did in similar situations. Really, because unchecked, this shit goes from your urethra, to your bladder & then your kidneys. I bet after two weeks, most suffers would be dead. Life expectancy being what it was, I wouldn't be shocked if this type of infection killed a sizable chunk of women.
That's just one of the few thoughts that run through my head as I struggle to urinate. Another more pertinent thought is where the fucking fuck is the UTI vaccine? I mean, we got to rabies, but not a more frequently debilitating illness? Oh, right. Lady disease is naturally less important. Pardon my directness, but being able to comfortably relieve ourselves is sometimes the only pleasant thing going on for us (& others of us, sadly, more often than not). Finding a vaccine to ensure this should be much more of a priority. Is carefree pissing for all not a compelling enough reason for you? Try this: I've probably had about twenty of these. The amount of time & cost involved with my taking time off of work, the time the nurse prepares my chart for my doctor, my doctor signing off on a script & making a notation in my chart, my nurse faxing the script to the pharmacy, the pharmacist preparing my prescription, & whatever ridiculous charges & resulting paperwork-clusterfuck with the insurance company should be compelling enough. If you're really that inhumane.
So I have to ask myself: if I'm miserable & this many people are involved, whom exactly is benefiting? Say it with me now: drug companies! Do you think all the time & money spent on research & jumping through FDA hoops is worth it to them for a UTI vaccine if there's something that already exists to treat the problem? Treat, not prevent, which seems to be the theme of healthcare in these parts... Simply put, they do not give a shit. Never mind that I personally would trade nearly anything I can lay my eyes on in my home for such a thing. A vaccine that important would need to accessible to all, however, not just some desperate middle-class hussy.
What also occurred to me on this familiar & cringe-full affair also was that taking antibiotics so often is tempting fate. Will they always work? Or will I contract some super-UTI that will do my ass in? They also make me sick, & sometimes (brace yourselves) give women yeast infections. Talk about adding insult to injury! So since I knew I caught this so soon, I searched for some answers online. Basically, you drink baking soda in water, follow that with more & more water, & you're right as rain.
Why have I not known this before? I also have been swallowing many minced cloves of garlic as it is a natural antibiotic, & I figured it wouldn't hurt. Done. Gone. About one dollar invested. Here's the deal though: I didn't take any pain killers. I thought that if I took a turn for the worse & was on something that would mask this, I should abstain. I could tell my body was trying very hard to cooperate (criminy! the pain), so I'm glad everything worked out.
I'm sure when I updated, you weren't expecting this.
7.13.2009
Thicker skin, thinner pasta.
With spring quarter classes over & my stepson's summer visit with us over, I knew I had to find a job. I had what I thought was a promising interview with a "mobile restaurant" that resulted in fuck-all (really, don't tell someone you'll call them once you've completed the work schedule if you aren't going to hire them- that's cold!). Then I had a somewhat unpromising interview that did result in a call back for me to make pasta. Not with a job offer, but for a stage, which is a French term for 'unpaid intern', kind of.
Where are we? I think restaurants should do away with that term, unless they are actually in France. Reason being is that it's a bit vague here. I suppose they're trying to see if I'm up to snuff before they decide to offer me a job or decline to. I can understand that, but there's no clear time line as to when that decision would be made. Yet I'm on this week's schedule. I suppose that means they're on the fence.
The first day went well enough, & I got used to cranking out pasta dough that got progressively thinner & longer (double the length of the counter space I use). I made tagliatelle & ravioli. I wasn't perfect, but I did well for day one & felt confident I understood what I need to do to be better next time.
"Next time" was yesterday. Yesterday started out OK. The prep guy made five batches of dough for me (he didn't know I was coming in), which got the sous annoyed with me for the first time of the day because there were three batches of dough already made in the back of a fridge. He acted very bent out of shape by this, but I hesitated to say I didn't make today's dough. He threw the batches on the counter & said, "I know ____ may have told you to roll the dough as you go [aside: I was planning on doing this because the dough gets harder to work with & tears much more easily the longer it sits there], but ignore ____ & do it all now." I just said, "OK, you're the boss," & did as I was told.
I admit to being a bit put-off by this because I knew the stuffed pastas were going to be harder to do because of it. I did it nonetheless. The dough that had been made the previous day was so wet & tacky it stuck to the plastic wrap. After I rolled out all of the batches, he came by to check them out. I asked how thick I had rolled them, & I told him I went done on the dial to three-quarters (zero is the thinnest, ten is the thickest). "Do you mean one & three-quarters?" "No, I mean three-quarters." "Did you go to the right or the left of the one?" "The right." I could understand if the pasta dough wasn't delicate & somewhat transparent for him to assume I don't understand the number line...
Anyway, I made pappardelle, then casconcelli. He told me I needed to speed up at this point, which is understandable. The casconcelli is hand-formed, & getting the right amount of filling & working out the air bubbles without tearing it was difficult. Once that was done, I moved onto the ill-fated ravioli. I've received conflicting instructions for this project (from him & the chef), & that tacky dough...gah! I was told by chef last time to use this press on the pasta once it's on the ravioli mold to create a deeper pocket for the filling. When a bunch broke, the sous rightly told me not to use it, so I put it away. When I took that tacky dough & placed it over the mold to make more, it was so gooey it started to fall into the spaces in the mold & create pockets regardless. He yelled at me to stop using the press, though I hadn't. The dough was just shitted & doing its own thing, which was to drip like the Blob. I used less filling, & most of them still broke. This is when I wanted to crawl into a hole. The dough was just too stretchy & creating holes sometimes before I got to filling them (so I just passed those over & didn't fill them). He still felt I was my fault, yelled at me to clean my station & grate some cheese for service. Youch.
I take full responsibility for needing to be faster, but half of that dough was useless! The thing with dough for any application is that there are no hard or fast rules for ingredient amounts. Humidity will affect how moist flour is. You shouldn't just add water because the recipe says to. You need to check the dough first & add it little by little. I had to take it on the chin that what I was working with wasn't good, & I didn't work with it as well. The only way that could have been helped is if I was more experienced with these little nightmares than I am. This is truly what pissed him off I think.
Here's the thing though: I still feel fairly good about yesterday. I mean, my dough hardly bunched while I was cranking it through the machine, & I never tore any, despite how much better it could have been. I also did my best at paying attention to his instructions & carry them out without reacting to him aggressively throwing things around.
So...do I want this job? Yes, if they want me there. Either way, I'm going to do my best while I'm there. I'm going back in tomorrow, & I'm going to ask how longer this stage is intended to last. After yesterday, I have a poor feeling about things. I hope they aren't just keeping me on to make their pasta when they have no one else to in the meantime.
Where are we? I think restaurants should do away with that term, unless they are actually in France. Reason being is that it's a bit vague here. I suppose they're trying to see if I'm up to snuff before they decide to offer me a job or decline to. I can understand that, but there's no clear time line as to when that decision would be made. Yet I'm on this week's schedule. I suppose that means they're on the fence.
The first day went well enough, & I got used to cranking out pasta dough that got progressively thinner & longer (double the length of the counter space I use). I made tagliatelle & ravioli. I wasn't perfect, but I did well for day one & felt confident I understood what I need to do to be better next time.
"Next time" was yesterday. Yesterday started out OK. The prep guy made five batches of dough for me (he didn't know I was coming in), which got the sous annoyed with me for the first time of the day because there were three batches of dough already made in the back of a fridge. He acted very bent out of shape by this, but I hesitated to say I didn't make today's dough. He threw the batches on the counter & said, "I know ____ may have told you to roll the dough as you go [aside: I was planning on doing this because the dough gets harder to work with & tears much more easily the longer it sits there], but ignore ____ & do it all now." I just said, "OK, you're the boss," & did as I was told.
I admit to being a bit put-off by this because I knew the stuffed pastas were going to be harder to do because of it. I did it nonetheless. The dough that had been made the previous day was so wet & tacky it stuck to the plastic wrap. After I rolled out all of the batches, he came by to check them out. I asked how thick I had rolled them, & I told him I went done on the dial to three-quarters (zero is the thinnest, ten is the thickest). "Do you mean one & three-quarters?" "No, I mean three-quarters." "Did you go to the right or the left of the one?" "The right." I could understand if the pasta dough wasn't delicate & somewhat transparent for him to assume I don't understand the number line...
Anyway, I made pappardelle, then casconcelli. He told me I needed to speed up at this point, which is understandable. The casconcelli is hand-formed, & getting the right amount of filling & working out the air bubbles without tearing it was difficult. Once that was done, I moved onto the ill-fated ravioli. I've received conflicting instructions for this project (from him & the chef), & that tacky dough...gah! I was told by chef last time to use this press on the pasta once it's on the ravioli mold to create a deeper pocket for the filling. When a bunch broke, the sous rightly told me not to use it, so I put it away. When I took that tacky dough & placed it over the mold to make more, it was so gooey it started to fall into the spaces in the mold & create pockets regardless. He yelled at me to stop using the press, though I hadn't. The dough was just shitted & doing its own thing, which was to drip like the Blob. I used less filling, & most of them still broke. This is when I wanted to crawl into a hole. The dough was just too stretchy & creating holes sometimes before I got to filling them (so I just passed those over & didn't fill them). He still felt I was my fault, yelled at me to clean my station & grate some cheese for service. Youch.
I take full responsibility for needing to be faster, but half of that dough was useless! The thing with dough for any application is that there are no hard or fast rules for ingredient amounts. Humidity will affect how moist flour is. You shouldn't just add water because the recipe says to. You need to check the dough first & add it little by little. I had to take it on the chin that what I was working with wasn't good, & I didn't work with it as well. The only way that could have been helped is if I was more experienced with these little nightmares than I am. This is truly what pissed him off I think.
Here's the thing though: I still feel fairly good about yesterday. I mean, my dough hardly bunched while I was cranking it through the machine, & I never tore any, despite how much better it could have been. I also did my best at paying attention to his instructions & carry them out without reacting to him aggressively throwing things around.
So...do I want this job? Yes, if they want me there. Either way, I'm going to do my best while I'm there. I'm going back in tomorrow, & I'm going to ask how longer this stage is intended to last. After yesterday, I have a poor feeling about things. I hope they aren't just keeping me on to make their pasta when they have no one else to in the meantime.
6.10.2009
The oher shoe did drop.
After 28 years of being a full-fledged neurotic, I suffered from an anxiety attack for the first time ever on Tuesday night. Apparently, the stress of this British Literature class is getting to me. I felt a bit more validated when my extremely intelligent, bachelor degree-holding friend assured me that this professor was more demanding than most she had ever had encountered. So apparently, my fears of not doing well are not entirely unfounded.
At the end of my first quarter of culinary school, I remember having this downward spiral freak out. I was at my mom's apartment, & she aptly pointed out to me, "If you aren't perfect, or the best, you feel threatened."
Gasp! My own mother calling me out. The horror INDEED.
I think my will for getting shit done diminishes when I feel like I can't do the best job possible, even if it's just caused by a temporary mental block. I just shut down & disengage completely when it is most critical for me to stick to it. That's why I'm trying so hard to accept my 80% average in this class & try so hard to get through the toughest part of it. The worst part is, I'm a huge procrastinator, & I never seem to suffer too badly grade-wise for it. I wish I did, so that I'd knock it the fuck off already. Who wants to do well as a result of being dysfunctional?
So this all night panic attack. I think I tried too hard to swing in the other direction to counter-act my usual, 'I'll do it later' attitude, into 'Finish it now, asswipe!' I just need to learn to strike a balance without losing my marbles. Lord knows I don't want to take pills to be just normal functioning & not funtimes.
At the end of my first quarter of culinary school, I remember having this downward spiral freak out. I was at my mom's apartment, & she aptly pointed out to me, "If you aren't perfect, or the best, you feel threatened."
Gasp! My own mother calling me out. The horror INDEED.
I think my will for getting shit done diminishes when I feel like I can't do the best job possible, even if it's just caused by a temporary mental block. I just shut down & disengage completely when it is most critical for me to stick to it. That's why I'm trying so hard to accept my 80% average in this class & try so hard to get through the toughest part of it. The worst part is, I'm a huge procrastinator, & I never seem to suffer too badly grade-wise for it. I wish I did, so that I'd knock it the fuck off already. Who wants to do well as a result of being dysfunctional?
So this all night panic attack. I think I tried too hard to swing in the other direction to counter-act my usual, 'I'll do it later' attitude, into 'Finish it now, asswipe!' I just need to learn to strike a balance without losing my marbles. Lord knows I don't want to take pills to be just normal functioning & not funtimes.
6.09.2009
Amusing Freudian slip for you.
While typing up my paper on the history of women in professional kitchens, I meant to type, "...and studied privately with well-regarded chefs," but actually wrote "well-raged chefs". Total accident.
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