Category: culture

The Battle of the Apps

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The McDonald’s app is more popular than Spotify.  This statement is not an opinion, it is the truth.  What sort of society do we live in where a fast “food” app can beat out music?  Ok so you need to eat to live, but you need music to be happy.  Plus McDOnalds isn’t really food, it’s a substance that mimics food.  Plus, it is not cheap.  Fast food may have been once upon a time a viable option to save money, but you can get a meal way cheaper via other means.  I can cook a meal for a family for $5.  If you are taking the family out to McDOnalds its going to be over $20.  And you are going to be hungry in 2 hours because it is not filling and not offering your body any sort of nutrition.  I can understand a craving and convenience, but the popularity is astounding.

Spotify is roughly $10 a month for endless streaming of music, style to fit any taste bud, and the best part is that is even suggests music for you.  Does McDonald’s suggest more food options for you?  No, it doesn’t.  It offers sandwiches and things out of the fryer.  Also, you can connect to friends and see what they are listening to for further musical inspiration.  Does McDonald’s provided nearly endless entertainment and strengthen the bonds with your friends?  No, it doesn’t.  It makes you fat and keeps you hungry.  Spotify, however, will at times force you to dance yourself clean, dance yourself into some much needed exercise in these winter months, dance yourself into a great mood when this sunless time gets you down.

Let’s get our priorities straight, you hungry and musically starved people

The Unpopular Portrait

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The worst spot in Chicago 20 years ago was a neighborhood slight north and little bit west of downtown.  Cabrini Green, Chicago’s public housing project, the city’s solution to the problem of poverty for 40 years.  Maybe you have heard of it, seen it years ago and you still remember the sight of complete and utter hopelessness.  It left a lasting impression, seeing the tall buildings stacked together close as dominos, even if you only saw it once.  Now, of course, this is prime real estate, given that the location is very convenient and accessible to the city’s the hub of commerce, close to the skyscrapers but offering a neighborhood and parking.

In this now vacant land, there used to be rows of light brown project buildings, surrounded by a black metal fence.  The fence was less about keeping the public out, and more about keeping the poor people trapped inside.  The visual was so striking, that just driving by the projects made an impression on the passerby: this was a place of poverty, violence,  depravity, and unhappiness.  One look from the outside was enough to see through the concrete walls into the deplorable state of living that was inside.  The memory of this infamous place is fading, there is no photographic portrait of this time and place, the worst solution ever devised to deal with the poor, the uneducated, the immigrants, the modern slave labor.  There is no tribute to what this neighborhood used to embody, there are no signs of trying to deal with this ongoing problem of the city’s needy, of the displaced, the unfortunate.  No youth center, no job training facility, no refuge for the homeless.  Now, next to the open lot, sits a target where you can go and buy candles.

The Glass House

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Why are all new buildings made out of glass?  All the new, modern, chic architecture has buildings designed to be covered in windows from ground all the way up to the top in the clouds.  A shiny, reflective look that is the model of money, progress, and modernity.  Long gone are the buildings made mostly of concrete with the detailed stone work, with an extravagant façade, with a unique personality shown through masonry.  When you see a new building go up now, the exterior is reflective mumu covering up all the whole building the a nun’s habit.  There is no peak of concrete, not a flash of the buildings flesh.  The mirrored skin is uniform across all new construction, the only difference being in the shape of the building.

Don’t these architects and the investors and the planners know that it is cold here more often than it is warm?  Windows are inherently drafty, they are not good insulators, not matter how expensive and new they are.  Windows are not warm, a cold hard fact.  Plus, more often then not these mammoth windows are covered with curtains, posters, cardboard, anything to get privacy and to hide the blinding sun.  They make cold windows just to cover them right up.  Its like going to a tanning salon then choosing to don a burka.  You go through the ordeal to get blonde hair and then you wear a hat all the time.  It makers zero sense.

Now everyone can have a office with a view.  Ah the American dream.  A cold dream.

The When for the Why

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Words and wishful thinking work when worry wears you weak.

Without wisdom the war against the waiting whittles you wicked.

Don’t weigh on the wane, waltz into wax wildly without weight.

Wonder the want, wail to win.

Wallow in warmth, wrestle worry into whispers, whoop your wishes when the why wails.

Conscious Creativity

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Most creative people see their best work as obvious. Sometimes the answer is right in front of you, but you can’t see it because you are too busy looking around for something seemingly more diverse.  You are looking too hard, trying too hard to be unique, that you end up being strange, weird, unapproachable.

That perfect idea, that light bulb turning on, comes in an instant, it’s just that you don’t know when that instant will come.  The eureka moment happens when your mind is relaxed, after a period of preparation and incubation.  Don’t rush into a concept, think about it, and relax.  The ironic part is that its hard to relax when you have too many ideas, or schedule yourself too tight, or you have a dead line.  Instead of being open to ideas, you are too busy refining everything and trying to make it perfect the first time so that you can save time.

We all know that great things come from mistakes, that your best ideas can come from unintended scenarios.  Conscious creativity is a paradox, so relax and don’t put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect.  Be open to interpretation, be open to change, be open to the obvious.

Goodbye Green Goat

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The Lunar Chinese New Year is almost upon us, a mere 17 days away.  The year ends February 7th at midnight on the dot.  There is roughly half a month left to relish in the year of the goat, or sheep, depending on who you ask.

There are 12 animals in the zodiac, and each one gets to shine for a year.  We are currently stationed in the 8th slot, after the horse and awaiting the monkey.  In addition to assigning an animal, each year is rotated through the 5 earth elements: Metal, Water, Wood, Fire, and Earth.  2015 is the year of the Green Goat/ Wooden Sheep.  Green is connected to wood through the green in trees.

The sheep is considered a lucky animal because it doesn’t have to do any heavy lifting around the farm; it gracefully grazes on green grass as the days roll passively by.  People born in the year of the goat are said to be gentle, mild mannered, tender, sympathetic, generous, and to have good health.  The Sheep/Goat is considered a female animal, and therefore embodies traits such as romance, art, creativity, and beauty.  This auspicious animal is believed to have balance, harmony, and prosperity.

The Wood element is seen as benevolent, producing fate, nobleness, blooming, flourishing, growth, and renewal.   People born in wooden years tend to be ethical, compassionate, social, adaptable, practical, and organized.

2015 was predicted to be one of appreciation and reflection, a quiet respite after the previous year of the horse (galloping through time and space causing ruckus and upheaval).  This year was to take on the traits of this gentle animal, this calm and passive creature that has an easy life.  2015 was a time to breathe in the calm spirit, to acknowledge all that you have, to see the beauty around, to have the time to embrace creativity, to find art in your daily life.  Since much tension has been dispersed this past year, it was a good year for peace, to mean longstanding issues, or to break out of negative spirals.  Stop the chaos and start to stabilize, that was the motto for the year.

There are precious few days left, so you better hurry up and find your calm.

The Percentage of Perchance

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“To sleep, perchance to dream- Ay, there’s the rub,

For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.” – Bill Shakespeare

I love sleeping because my dreaming life tends to be better then my waking life.  My dreams are so imaginative, full of adventure, abound with mystery, whimsical, and interesting.  Literally anything can happen, that is usually what does happen, anything.  If I could remember my dreams more clearly and precisely, I could quit cooking and become a famous screenwriter.

The problem is, my dreams leave more of a feeling rather than a series of events.  This eerie feeling can penetrate my entire day, leaving me with a strange sense of something being off, slightly skewed, not balanced.  The feeling from the land of dreams crosses over into my real life, impacting me subtly.

Together these elements of action, strong story arc, and a lasting impression are the components to making a story spectacular, but like I said, the details drift away as soon as I come into consciousness.  The more awake I become, the farther away the dream travels. If only I could write in a state of semi consciousness.  But using you brain and thinking concretely draws you out of that imaginary playground, that space where the mind wanders uncontrolled and unabatedly.

I am not fascinated with the overall meaning of these strange and fairy tale like adventures, that is an entirely different cup of tea, one which does not fall under the realm of Marigold’s specialty.   Dreams occur during REM sleep, a time when the brain is as active as it is while being awake.  Is this why I wake up so tired every morning?  Because my brain refuses to sleep like the rest of my body?  You know how you are supposed to sleep on a decision?  Well I wake up more confused, with too many ideas, too many solutions to a singular problem.

All Together Now

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IMG_0987

Apple allspice strudel with oatmeal streusel, bay leaf Bavarian cream, candied marcona almonds, rum cider glaze.

Apple strudel with streusel, just because it’s hard to tell the two things apart.  I thought, let’s put them both on to save confusion.  The streusel compliments the strudel in this German themed dessert.

The apples are cooked lightly in sugar, butter, and rum, tie together with 3 layers of phyllo dough brushed with allspice infused butter, a lot of butter.  The rum is represented again in the glaze, because traditionally apple strudel is made with rum soaked raisins on the inside.  I skipped the raisins and doubled up on the rum to compensate for missing dried fruit bit.  The strudel is crisp, flaky, buttery, tender, and softly sweet on the inside.

The candied almonds add texture and provide light caramel flavor for added depth.  The oatmeal streusel adds another layer of crunch, because I am texturally obsessed when it comes to composing a plate.  That, and because who can remember which is the German dessert wrapped in layers of flaky dough, and which is like a cookie without the egg?

I love bay leaf with apples in the winter, the flavors go well together like two lovers holding hands.  Bavarian cream has a mousse like texture: fluffy, creamy, and smooth.  There is just the subtlest amount of cinnamon, just to warm it up a touch.  This dish is a rare example without any added vanilla, aka the flavor of the gods.  I skipped it because it can become commonplace, an ever represented ingredient that can sometimes get lost in the medley of flavors.  I wanted the bay leaf and the apples to shine on there own, taking center stage in the mouth.

Musical Shoes

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A black suit with a black bowler hat to match, the hat covered brim to brim with black sequence, sunglasses as black as the suit.  The man could be blind behind there, behind those dark as night shades, it wouldn’t make any difference in the dimly light underground subway.  Crisp white gloves on each hand, black tap shoes on each foot, coupled together with a red bow tie over a white button down shirt.

With a beat in his legs to match the tap in his foot, he searches through his flip book cd collection, searching for the song in his bones.  He creates a mood with his energy as much as he does with his percussion step. His style is sleek, his dress is subtly costumed, his demeanor that of the born dancer.  He chooses an old jazz song to start, tapping on top of the melody, hands jazzed to accompany the horns, he spins with spirit, glides with an effortless slide. This guy gives the cha-cha an easy-going jive, he twirls arms wide, with a smile of childish glee hidden behind the dark black suit.

He seem to do it out of enjoyment, not for the tips, although the box is clearly marked and never empty.

A one man act, he steal the attention of the traveling masses, stops that hustle of the day, casts a performer’s spell on the rushed crowd with his musical shoes.