Thanks to Jonquil (whom you really should be reading if you're not already): Comment to this post and, if requested, I will give you 5 subjects/things I associate you with. Then post this in your blog and elaborate on the subjects given. Here are the five that Jonquil provided to me:
Baking My experience with this enterprise has led me to begin to believe that I really have to go back to school every now and again, in order to master some new body of knowledge. Of course, one could argue, quite easily, that I have not "mastered" baking in any serious, Brazen-Tart-Top-Chef sense of that word, and, if I'm going to be doing that going-back-to-school thing, I really must either win the lottery or find cheaper ways of going back to school. Caveats aside, I find that there is, in fact, a subtle but real sense that I'm Much Better at this than I used to be. I was always a pretty good baker--I wouldn't have come up with the idea to start a bakery if I hadn't had some notion that I already had a frame on which to hang subsequent knowledge--but I can do more, and do it better, than I used to be able to do, and I like that. The chefs in school said that they would expose us to everything, and, indeed, they did. The bakery enabled me to use quite a bit of it, at one point or another, which embedded it even more deeply. This doesn't prevent me from forgetting useful bits (today, while making a batch of nougat, I'm looking at the pan of sugar, water, honey and corn syrup and thinking, "Hmm, I wonder if that's going to boil over?" Answer: Yes; all over the stove), especially because, now that I'm back in Officeworld, I don't use the bits every day. Flip side, though, I enjoy using them a lot more.
Buddhism Sometimes I think of myself as the accidental buddhist. I've never studied it or practiced it, in the sense of belonging to a sangha; I (mostly) haven't read the texts (though at two different points in my life I had a lover who studies one or another of the schools of buddhist thought, and one of them read Sanskrit, IIRC); I don't meditate or even practice yoga at this point; and i suspect my grasp of some of the concepts is more on the order of misconstrued lyrics than anything else. I also don't find myself in search of a religion or in search of meaning in my life. What I find useful about buddhism is that it focuses on finding truth (and provides tools for doing so); it doesn't have any deities; and it advocates compassion at all times. I find the distinctions between engagement and attachment interesting (though I have no clue whether I think about this in "buddhist" ways). I find it interesting that enlightenment is (at least theoretically) available to all, not through the grace of a deity or other intercessor, but through one's own actions, and that each being is responsible for his or her own actions. I have to add that my own attempt to practice compassion as Chuck and I were splitting up ended up being one of the best things I have ever done.
Homekeeping One of win-the-lottery fantasies has to do with buying or building a home that is a model in some way, or a home that has a masonry bread oven in the back yard, or a home that runs on solar energy, or . . . something. Even though I have lived in a major city for nearly 30 years, I have this fantasy of living someplace that is not-city (and definitely not suburbs; I cannot do suburbs, at all). What the fantasy is about, i think, has as much to do with the various arts and sciences necessary to keeping a home, especially the arts and sciences centered around the kitchen and the hearth and the sewing space (and the writing space and the art studio, as long as we've won the lottery here). I think that's actually the fundamental truth that comes out of a Marxist analysis, that we most of us, perhaps all of us, need and want to be able to do multiple things. (This notion is explored to interesting effect in both Ursula LeGuin's "The Dispossessed" (and some other work) and Sheri Tepper's "The Gate to Women's Country," in both of which the residents of the imagined societies are expected to learn and practice multiple arts, crafts, sciences, etc. Much of our capitalist society doesn't think in terms of home "keeping": instead, we're expected to use, dispose of, buy new, in order to create a market. That seems so fundamentally wrong to me, and so at odds with homekeeping.
Friendship I have spent much of the last 30 years living by myself. Since 1981, Chuck and I lived together for about 5 years, and I had a roommate for less than a year in 1983 or so, but I have otherwise lived alone. Given that my family is about a thousand miles away, this has meant that I've built multiple networks of friends over the years, and I love them all. Some fade in and out of my life; some were friends in a specific time and place; some are closer to me than some of my family; some are more casual; and, thanks to modern technology, some I've never seen or met in person. Doesn't matter. We're all a part of these great webs of life and death. Sometimes our intimate (read: marital and familial) relationships and the way our society puts those at the center of everything makes friendship seem like an afterthought, but it isn't. I don't feel as though I have friendships "instead of" marital or familial relationships, because I have or have had all of those; I feel as though the fact that marital/familial relationships haven't occupied the center of my vision and my living space has enabled me to see how friendship is the thing that makes the other relationships possible in some important ways.
Starting over again Oy. Sometimes I feel as though I've lived several lifetimes in this particular lifetime. What I mostly feel is thankful that I have some ability to be resilient, and thankful I have the friends and family who can help me and support me through difficult times. As y'all know, I can also feel sad or angry or self-pitying, sometimes even for stretches of time. But what else can you do except . . . do the next thing? Well, yes, you can blog about it, ad nauseam, but sooner or later you must get the fuck ON with it. I could easily allow myself to be consumed with sorrow & regret, and some days/times that happens; I wish I could have been a professor, or owned a bakery, or been a programmer; some days I even wish I could have had a kid. it's not that my life is somehow incomplete without those things--the Brazen Tart once pointed out, correctly, that one cannot do everything. It's that I would really have liked to do those things (or the first two, for sure, anyway), and I think I might have been good at them, and I wish i could have found out whether I would have been, and I feel like I would have been able to offer more to people if I had been able to do those things (i.e., it's not a purely selfish wish to have done them). Instead, I slog along, writing reports and proposals that maybe four other people will ever read, and it feels like a waste. But it is what it is. And I still get a comma in every paycheck and I still don't have to lug 50-pound sacks of flour up a flight of stairs, so, hey, it could be a lot worse.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Book Love
When I was in my early teens, I'd go to the local public library with my dad. I'd rummage around on the "new fiction" shelf, and the "adult fiction" (as opposed to the YA fiction, which I found tedious in multiple dimensions), and maybe look something up with the catalogue. I'd end up with a stack of books, and sitting in the car with that stack always gave me a little thrill. I'd read the first couple of pages of a few of the books, or look again at the description on the inside jacket flap, and I'd decide on an order in which I'd read the books, saving what i thought would be the best book for last.
It turns out that, 35 years later, I still do this.
I zipped down to the library late yesterday afternoon, expecting to pick up one book that was on hold for me and finding that two others had come in as well, and I stood on the train platform and started doing that surveying-my-haul thing.
While rummaging through the library's online catalogue, I stumbled across Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, about his hiking on the Appalachian Trail. I have had to be careful where I read the book, because he makes me laugh out loud--he is a very good writer, and it's extremely funny. (He could use a good editor or spellcheck program, though; I've found three or four egregious typos.) I highly recommend that particular book, and I'm definitely going to find some of his other stuff as well.
The other thing I found online recently is a bakery-cam. Yes, that's right; there is now a live webcam in the back of the bakery where I worked. It's more a stop-action cam--it updates every 10 seconds or so, rather than being a continuous feed--but still. I just peeked in and saw Phil and Bossman making rolls (it looks like they have a new roll divider; I'll have to ask him about that). I have to say that watching it the other day made my stomach clench a little bit: I look at it, and I am nothing but happy that I'm not doing that any more. In fact, being away from it for a year (and being able to watch it on my monitor) has made me realize just how much I hated working there by the time I left, for a combination of reasons.
I liked the people, and I even liked a number of aspects of the work, but I got up every morning and had to will myself to not think about how much I didn't want to be doing it. That kind of numbing isn't good for anyone. I've had office jobs where that was true, too--I think it's unavoidable, no matter what you do; that's why they call it "work" and why they have to pay you to do it--but I never felt anything like I did at the bakery. I think it was the combination of low pay and physically taxing work, along with the knowledge that I had absolutely no future either there or in that line of business generally, that made it so depressing.
And as for today's rant:
Burger King has now managed to completely piss me off with a second ad campaign. The current one has these two guys, one with a bag full of their new mini burgers. He tells his buddy to watch, and shows the bag to a woman, who proceeds to squeal idiotically over them, about how cute they are, etc., as if (a) the burgers are babies and (b) all women squeal uncontrollably at the sight of something small and cute. It is beyond annoying. Their previous campaign featured the announcer saying something like, "people are going to bed hungry tonight," or something like that, the solution being BK's new late hours. It was beyond offensive. Got news for you, Idiot Ad-Writer: many people are going to bed hungry because they can't afford food.
I know! Let's cut taxes! THAT will work, for sure! Or at least that's what the idiot Republicans will tell you. I can't even write about politics, because it will make my keyboard explode. (If I could lose weight by ranting, I'd have it made.)
It turns out that, 35 years later, I still do this.
I zipped down to the library late yesterday afternoon, expecting to pick up one book that was on hold for me and finding that two others had come in as well, and I stood on the train platform and started doing that surveying-my-haul thing.
While rummaging through the library's online catalogue, I stumbled across Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, about his hiking on the Appalachian Trail. I have had to be careful where I read the book, because he makes me laugh out loud--he is a very good writer, and it's extremely funny. (He could use a good editor or spellcheck program, though; I've found three or four egregious typos.) I highly recommend that particular book, and I'm definitely going to find some of his other stuff as well.
The other thing I found online recently is a bakery-cam. Yes, that's right; there is now a live webcam in the back of the bakery where I worked. It's more a stop-action cam--it updates every 10 seconds or so, rather than being a continuous feed--but still. I just peeked in and saw Phil and Bossman making rolls (it looks like they have a new roll divider; I'll have to ask him about that). I have to say that watching it the other day made my stomach clench a little bit: I look at it, and I am nothing but happy that I'm not doing that any more. In fact, being away from it for a year (and being able to watch it on my monitor) has made me realize just how much I hated working there by the time I left, for a combination of reasons.
I liked the people, and I even liked a number of aspects of the work, but I got up every morning and had to will myself to not think about how much I didn't want to be doing it. That kind of numbing isn't good for anyone. I've had office jobs where that was true, too--I think it's unavoidable, no matter what you do; that's why they call it "work" and why they have to pay you to do it--but I never felt anything like I did at the bakery. I think it was the combination of low pay and physically taxing work, along with the knowledge that I had absolutely no future either there or in that line of business generally, that made it so depressing.
And as for today's rant:
Burger King has now managed to completely piss me off with a second ad campaign. The current one has these two guys, one with a bag full of their new mini burgers. He tells his buddy to watch, and shows the bag to a woman, who proceeds to squeal idiotically over them, about how cute they are, etc., as if (a) the burgers are babies and (b) all women squeal uncontrollably at the sight of something small and cute. It is beyond annoying. Their previous campaign featured the announcer saying something like, "people are going to bed hungry tonight," or something like that, the solution being BK's new late hours. It was beyond offensive. Got news for you, Idiot Ad-Writer: many people are going to bed hungry because they can't afford food.
I know! Let's cut taxes! THAT will work, for sure! Or at least that's what the idiot Republicans will tell you. I can't even write about politics, because it will make my keyboard explode. (If I could lose weight by ranting, I'd have it made.)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
And another thing . . .
Orange's comment on the last post reminds me of another aspect of the whole thing that annoys the fuck out of me: I do not believe that all of the people who align themselves with the godbag asshats actually share the beliefs of the GAs. I believe that people like ol' Ann align themselves for reasons that are disingenuous at best, and cynical exploitation at worst. I also believe the leaders, or many of them, cannot possibly believe the things they promulgate. (Fred over at Slacktivist has written a number of posts about this, but I am too lazy to go find them in his archives.) I think that many of the people who DO believe are ignorant--sometimes willfully so, but often because they have little or no exposure to alternatives, and they are frightened of alternatives, and the people who preach to them, like the GAs and their fellow travelers, exploit and encourage those fears.
I've been slammed at work, still, which is wearing me out. Three major things are due in the next three and a half weeks (a proposal; a yearly report to the federal government, which has multiple aspects; a financial report for a federal grant) and several other things are due at about the same time, plus a coworker is out of town for three weeks, so I'm doing some of her shit, too. Between now and mid March, forget about it. But, hey, I can only do what I can do, and there are limits to what I'm willing to sacrifice. I've been working full force since I was hired--and this week is my one-year anniversary.
Anyway. I'm fried tonight, too, so I got nothin' else.
I've been slammed at work, still, which is wearing me out. Three major things are due in the next three and a half weeks (a proposal; a yearly report to the federal government, which has multiple aspects; a financial report for a federal grant) and several other things are due at about the same time, plus a coworker is out of town for three weeks, so I'm doing some of her shit, too. Between now and mid March, forget about it. But, hey, I can only do what I can do, and there are limits to what I'm willing to sacrifice. I've been working full force since I was hired--and this week is my one-year anniversary.
Anyway. I'm fried tonight, too, so I got nothin' else.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sleepytime
I think I matched a personal best yesterday, for amount of time spent doing absolutely nothing. Saturday featured some running around--to get something framed, to pick up a few items at Trader Joe's, and to make tiramisu as a months-late birthday cake for Friend. Friend then fetched me and we hied back to his place to cook dinner (mahi mahi with lime butter; wild and brown rice; and a mix of slow-roasted tomatos, onions, black beans, and mango) and admire his "new" dining room. The room has been there all along, but it has housed computers and such for several years; he has been on a roll lately, rearranging stuff at his house, so he was very pleased to be able to have dinner in the dining room.
Yesterday, however, I sat on the couch in the sunny front room, with a fire in the fireplace and a cat on my lap. I had a book next to me, but I didn't exactly read a lot of it; I did spend a fair amount of time kind of staring into space, or into the fire. Friend continued to move crap around as part of his grand rearranging plan, and occasionally came in to put another log on the fire. I eventually got off my ass to take a shower, and, later, to start cooking dinner (more rice; cauliflower that was steamed and then baked in a cheddar sauce that curdled on me but still tasted good; cabbage that was steamed and then sauteed with onions in a little butter, with black pepper; chicken that marinated all day in lemon and ginger and was then basically poached/pan-fried in the marinade). Friend came in at the last minute to do the chicken, as the rest of the stuff was the time-consuming bit, and I did all that fussing so he could continue his operations. We ate in the dining room again, and then retired to sit in front of the fire for awhile. It was every bit as pleasant as it sounds, and I think he was pleased to be able to get more stuff done..
Today I wandered through Whole Paycheck on my way home, and once again bought more than I should have tried to carry (look! pistachios and cherries! I can make nougat . . . and almond paste--I could have used some of that the other day . . . and that fig and almond thing I like . . . Ginger-O's are on sale; must stock up). I managed to shlep it all home, and even did my laundry, which was the real task for the day. And I cut up the pineapple and the grapefruit and threw in the rest of the frozen cherries and blueberries, so I have fruit salad for the week. (I know; doesn't quite measure up to Brazen Tart's adventures in Kauai, does it . . .)
The tiramisu was tasty enough, though not exactly what I had in mind. First, I had decided to make a dacquoise instead of using ladyfingers, which worked reasonably well except it didn't rise enough and the almond flour wasn't fine enough (I suspect those two things are related). I also made a chocolate dacquoise, merely by dumping in some cocoa powder. I combined mascarpone with some "light" cream cheese and some heavy cream, in an effort to make it a teensy bit less heavy, and that worked okay, and I layered fruit in there, too (frozen raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries), to help cut the sweetness. I put a layer of regular dacquoise on the bottom, soaked it with coffee, smeared some of the cream/cheese mixture, and put on some berries; added the chocolate layer, did the same; and added the top layer of regular dacquoise. I had run out of the cheese mix, so I whipped the rest of my heavy cream and used that as a top layer. Remember those chocolate hazelnut cookies? I had crumbs from them in a bag and used them as a sprinkle on top instead of cocoa powder. I think for the next round I'll make ladyfingers or a spongier sponge cake instead of dacquoise, or possibly a combination.
Meanwhile, thanks to my responding to a stupid poll last week (on purpose, to fight the oh-we-christians-are-so-persecuted crowd), I've ended up on the email lists of the godbag asshats from the AFA and affiliated organizations. There's a part of me that wants to stay on the lists, just so I can keep track of their slimy shit, but I just cannot bear it. What a bunch of assholes. And, of course, what with the long weekend and such, I keep getting email, despite having sent multiple unsubscribe notices. If I'm still getting their shit by Wednesday, there will be problems.
I cannot abide them. They keep wanting to stick their noses into everyone else's underpants, for reasons that make no sense to me. Their views on homosexuality and their opposition to equal rights are offensive. More to the point of the shit they keep sending, they have this notion that somehow christians are being "silenced" and "persecuted." That is such a distortion of reality that it's difficult to take seriously. Are churches being burned? Are christians being sent to concentration camps? Are they being denied the right to vote? Are they forbidden to pray? Of course not; quite the opposite. Or, let's look at it this way: when is the last time the populace of the United States elected as their president someone who isn't at least an avowed christian? How many members of Congress aren't christian? (I suppose their answer to that would depend on whether they count catholics and mormons.) Then explain to me how one can even claim persecution with a straight fucking face.
Okay; that's as much energy as I can muster for the day. (It's a sorry state of affairs when I only have the energy to rant for two paragraphs . . . )
Yesterday, however, I sat on the couch in the sunny front room, with a fire in the fireplace and a cat on my lap. I had a book next to me, but I didn't exactly read a lot of it; I did spend a fair amount of time kind of staring into space, or into the fire. Friend continued to move crap around as part of his grand rearranging plan, and occasionally came in to put another log on the fire. I eventually got off my ass to take a shower, and, later, to start cooking dinner (more rice; cauliflower that was steamed and then baked in a cheddar sauce that curdled on me but still tasted good; cabbage that was steamed and then sauteed with onions in a little butter, with black pepper; chicken that marinated all day in lemon and ginger and was then basically poached/pan-fried in the marinade). Friend came in at the last minute to do the chicken, as the rest of the stuff was the time-consuming bit, and I did all that fussing so he could continue his operations. We ate in the dining room again, and then retired to sit in front of the fire for awhile. It was every bit as pleasant as it sounds, and I think he was pleased to be able to get more stuff done..
Today I wandered through Whole Paycheck on my way home, and once again bought more than I should have tried to carry (look! pistachios and cherries! I can make nougat . . . and almond paste--I could have used some of that the other day . . . and that fig and almond thing I like . . . Ginger-O's are on sale; must stock up). I managed to shlep it all home, and even did my laundry, which was the real task for the day. And I cut up the pineapple and the grapefruit and threw in the rest of the frozen cherries and blueberries, so I have fruit salad for the week. (I know; doesn't quite measure up to Brazen Tart's adventures in Kauai, does it . . .)
The tiramisu was tasty enough, though not exactly what I had in mind. First, I had decided to make a dacquoise instead of using ladyfingers, which worked reasonably well except it didn't rise enough and the almond flour wasn't fine enough (I suspect those two things are related). I also made a chocolate dacquoise, merely by dumping in some cocoa powder. I combined mascarpone with some "light" cream cheese and some heavy cream, in an effort to make it a teensy bit less heavy, and that worked okay, and I layered fruit in there, too (frozen raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries), to help cut the sweetness. I put a layer of regular dacquoise on the bottom, soaked it with coffee, smeared some of the cream/cheese mixture, and put on some berries; added the chocolate layer, did the same; and added the top layer of regular dacquoise. I had run out of the cheese mix, so I whipped the rest of my heavy cream and used that as a top layer. Remember those chocolate hazelnut cookies? I had crumbs from them in a bag and used them as a sprinkle on top instead of cocoa powder. I think for the next round I'll make ladyfingers or a spongier sponge cake instead of dacquoise, or possibly a combination.
Meanwhile, thanks to my responding to a stupid poll last week (on purpose, to fight the oh-we-christians-are-so-persecuted crowd), I've ended up on the email lists of the godbag asshats from the AFA and affiliated organizations. There's a part of me that wants to stay on the lists, just so I can keep track of their slimy shit, but I just cannot bear it. What a bunch of assholes. And, of course, what with the long weekend and such, I keep getting email, despite having sent multiple unsubscribe notices. If I'm still getting their shit by Wednesday, there will be problems.
I cannot abide them. They keep wanting to stick their noses into everyone else's underpants, for reasons that make no sense to me. Their views on homosexuality and their opposition to equal rights are offensive. More to the point of the shit they keep sending, they have this notion that somehow christians are being "silenced" and "persecuted." That is such a distortion of reality that it's difficult to take seriously. Are churches being burned? Are christians being sent to concentration camps? Are they being denied the right to vote? Are they forbidden to pray? Of course not; quite the opposite. Or, let's look at it this way: when is the last time the populace of the United States elected as their president someone who isn't at least an avowed christian? How many members of Congress aren't christian? (I suppose their answer to that would depend on whether they count catholics and mormons.) Then explain to me how one can even claim persecution with a straight fucking face.
Okay; that's as much energy as I can muster for the day. (It's a sorry state of affairs when I only have the energy to rant for two paragraphs . . . )
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Letter of Love
Thanks to Bill, I have the letter "g." In particular, the task is to list ten things that I love that start with my letter. So:
greens I have always liked spinach--there's not much you can do to it to make me hate it. But of late I've been branching out, to kale, and collards, and beet greens, and I like those every bit as much, it turns out. It's felicitous that they're also quite good for you.
guimauve You know this as marshmallows. We made them in pastry school, and I loved them, not least because they are a cousin to Italian meringue, which I adore (beat egg whites, and then drizzle in sugar water heated to the correct temp, which I'm too lazy to look up right now, and let it continue to beat; the sugar cooks the whites). Guimauve isn't particularly good for you, and isn't particularly fancy, but that's not the point.
generosity And I'm not even really talking about money; it's more about being willing to give, whether it's credit, or a thank you, or a compliment, or a lollipop, or whatever. We all have something we can give away that someone else will be glad to get, and the giving encourages others to do likewise. It's a quality that I try to cultivate in myself, in part because I think it's one of those things that grows on itself and encourages others to be generous as well. I don't know that I succeed particularly well--that is, I don't think I'm *more* generous than the people around me--but that's okay.
game This one's kind of a cheat, in that I'm getting two for one, because I like game, as in venison, and wild turkey, and rabbit, but I also like game in the Michael-Jordan-he's-got-game sense. I think having game is wonderful to witness, or to recognize that one has oneself, on those days, or in those places or circumstances, where it all just comes together.
genitalia Speaking of coming together . . . okay, sorry, couldn't resist that. Genitalia are just fun. I realize people vary in terms of what they like to do with them, and what kind they like, and what they like to do. Not the point. The whole enterprise is one of the great pleasures in life.
g-spot And, hell, might as well throw this one in, too. I like it. I'm not going to provide any details, at least not any personal ones, and if you really need more, well, you know how to work the
google I sometimes wonder what the hell I did before the Google. If you don't use it, I can't explain it (but you guys are experts, I'm sure).
grammar If you don't care about it, well, then you are contributing to the downfall of civilization--ALL civilization.
goo-goos Most people do not regard this as a worthy goal. I disagree, deeply and profoundly. And I am extremely goddamned sick and tired of hearing the right wing of this country deride government; I am particularly sick and tired of hearing elected officials--who are collecting government paychecks--deride government. Especially the asswipes who have sucked at the public teat their whole long lives, but don't want a poor person to collect an extra fucking food stamp (coughPhil Grammcoughcough). Oh; wait; this is supposed to be things I love, not the rant zone . . .
Okay, so let me end with:
ginger Of course. Could I have left this off? No. I like it dried, fresh, pickled, and crystallized. I like it in sweet and savory dishes. I like tea made of it. I like the color. I love it deeply and passionately.
greens I have always liked spinach--there's not much you can do to it to make me hate it. But of late I've been branching out, to kale, and collards, and beet greens, and I like those every bit as much, it turns out. It's felicitous that they're also quite good for you.
guimauve You know this as marshmallows. We made them in pastry school, and I loved them, not least because they are a cousin to Italian meringue, which I adore (beat egg whites, and then drizzle in sugar water heated to the correct temp, which I'm too lazy to look up right now, and let it continue to beat; the sugar cooks the whites). Guimauve isn't particularly good for you, and isn't particularly fancy, but that's not the point.
generosity And I'm not even really talking about money; it's more about being willing to give, whether it's credit, or a thank you, or a compliment, or a lollipop, or whatever. We all have something we can give away that someone else will be glad to get, and the giving encourages others to do likewise. It's a quality that I try to cultivate in myself, in part because I think it's one of those things that grows on itself and encourages others to be generous as well. I don't know that I succeed particularly well--that is, I don't think I'm *more* generous than the people around me--but that's okay.
game This one's kind of a cheat, in that I'm getting two for one, because I like game, as in venison, and wild turkey, and rabbit, but I also like game in the Michael-Jordan-he's-got-game sense. I think having game is wonderful to witness, or to recognize that one has oneself, on those days, or in those places or circumstances, where it all just comes together.
genitalia Speaking of coming together . . . okay, sorry, couldn't resist that. Genitalia are just fun. I realize people vary in terms of what they like to do with them, and what kind they like, and what they like to do. Not the point. The whole enterprise is one of the great pleasures in life.
g-spot And, hell, might as well throw this one in, too. I like it. I'm not going to provide any details, at least not any personal ones, and if you really need more, well, you know how to work the
google I sometimes wonder what the hell I did before the Google. If you don't use it, I can't explain it (but you guys are experts, I'm sure).
grammar If you don't care about it, well, then you are contributing to the downfall of civilization--ALL civilization.
goo-goos Most people do not regard this as a worthy goal. I disagree, deeply and profoundly. And I am extremely goddamned sick and tired of hearing the right wing of this country deride government; I am particularly sick and tired of hearing elected officials--who are collecting government paychecks--deride government. Especially the asswipes who have sucked at the public teat their whole long lives, but don't want a poor person to collect an extra fucking food stamp (coughPhil Grammcoughcough). Oh; wait; this is supposed to be things I love, not the rant zone . . .
Okay, so let me end with:
ginger Of course. Could I have left this off? No. I like it dried, fresh, pickled, and crystallized. I like it in sweet and savory dishes. I like tea made of it. I like the color. I love it deeply and passionately.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Needs
I'm very whiny tonight. (For the usual reasons: didn't work out; haven't worked out in a couple of days; not fitting into clothes; am not getting the support I need at work; am tired. Etcetera. There; now I don't have to detail any of it.)
I've also been annoyed by this article. And, really, who wouldn't be? I do not give a rat's ass that the people around you are taking two vacations a year ($16k) or have a car and driver rather than take public transportation, or have a nanny, or "need" suits and evening gowns, or need a vacation spot in the Hamptons or wherever the fuck the rich people are hanging these days. Really; I don't care. The culture that supposedly requires you to do that so that you can fit in is a broken culture. And it's broken in two very important ways. For one thing--and this is my lesser complaint, actually--that particular kind and level of consumption is problematic. For the other, more important, thing, though, the level of consumption is apparently provided and expected no matter how well or poorly these bozos perform. If I did my job as "well" as these titans of industry and finance, I'd be out of a goddamned job, not whining about how I just cannot get by on a measly half-million a year.
Take, by way of contrast, someone who has been incredibly successful in the financial world: Warren Buffett. Does he live that lifestyle? Um, no. Do his kids? No, again. I'm sure he's not perfect; none of us are. But the whole notion that one should be paid exorbitant sums (a) simply because others are making exorbitant sums, (b) regardless of whether one's own performance is good, in order that (c) one can maintain the Lifestyle of those others, is simply fucked, and not in a good way.
The worst thing, for me, is that these people don't actually MAKE anything. They do not build anything, they do not own businesses that build or make anything. You cannot eat, wear, drive, live in, or hold their "products." In fact, they work very hard to ensure that the products we need are produced elsewhere, in some other country, because that makes more money for the shareholders, who are, you guessed it, another part of this immense circle jerk. Not that I'm peevish about it or anything.
I've also been annoyed by this article. And, really, who wouldn't be? I do not give a rat's ass that the people around you are taking two vacations a year ($16k) or have a car and driver rather than take public transportation, or have a nanny, or "need" suits and evening gowns, or need a vacation spot in the Hamptons or wherever the fuck the rich people are hanging these days. Really; I don't care. The culture that supposedly requires you to do that so that you can fit in is a broken culture. And it's broken in two very important ways. For one thing--and this is my lesser complaint, actually--that particular kind and level of consumption is problematic. For the other, more important, thing, though, the level of consumption is apparently provided and expected no matter how well or poorly these bozos perform. If I did my job as "well" as these titans of industry and finance, I'd be out of a goddamned job, not whining about how I just cannot get by on a measly half-million a year.
Take, by way of contrast, someone who has been incredibly successful in the financial world: Warren Buffett. Does he live that lifestyle? Um, no. Do his kids? No, again. I'm sure he's not perfect; none of us are. But the whole notion that one should be paid exorbitant sums (a) simply because others are making exorbitant sums, (b) regardless of whether one's own performance is good, in order that (c) one can maintain the Lifestyle of those others, is simply fucked, and not in a good way.
The worst thing, for me, is that these people don't actually MAKE anything. They do not build anything, they do not own businesses that build or make anything. You cannot eat, wear, drive, live in, or hold their "products." In fact, they work very hard to ensure that the products we need are produced elsewhere, in some other country, because that makes more money for the shareholders, who are, you guessed it, another part of this immense circle jerk. Not that I'm peevish about it or anything.
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