“Maybe there is something that I am REALLY good at, but the thought has not yet occurred to me.” -Marigold
I am sorry, but lately I have been saying some things that most people, including yourself, might not agree with. Ok, that’s not true exactly- I am saying things that you never would say out loud. Truth is not a click bait, acceptance of reality sometimes needs a full lobotomy.
Advertising is everywhere. I was listening to a podcast and the program challenged the audience to count how many advertisements they saw in a single day. I have not accepted this particular challenge because I am not sure that I can count that high.
I know that everywhere you look companies are trying to trick you into buying something. This is a fact that I accepted a long time ago, and I can say that for most of the time advertisements don’t really work on me. Not only because I don’t have extra spending money, but also because I know its a trick. And mostly I don’t want extra stuff. I like my space to not be cluttered and I hate getting rid of something that I spent money on. Blame it on my Dutch heritage, but I am a true penny pincher.
The worst part of advertising is the unreal portrayal of female beauty. So much of your worth of a female is based on your looks. For men, it is based on how much money you make in life, but for the female, it is about weight, makeup, skin, boobs, hair, jewelry, fashion, and shoes. I know that the images are photoshopped, I know that the models are teenagers, I know that a lot of women get boob jobs- but my knowledge does not matter. I still compare- I still look at myself naked in the mirror and pinch my fat, lift up my boobs, consider spray tanning, I want to dye my hair, I need to stay on my diet.
I am lucky though because these are passing thoughts, then I get dressed and remind myself that I am hilarious, charming, and one of a kind. I don’t need a certain pant size to make an impact in the world, I don’t need the perfect body to find love.
It’s not because I am more mature than women around, it is because I am a realist, because I live in the world and I look around. This is one reason that I am glad that I live in a city, it gives a larger base of comparison. I look around and I see how women actually look, and I see very few models.
But what about the ladies who live in smaller towns, who don’t have the comparison with the world at large? These are the women who I feel for, who only have ads as a base for their self-worth.
Since we were just discussing “Getting to Know the General,” I would like to elaborate on the historical setting of this book, the political and militant tension between the United States and Panama in reaching a new treaty regarding the ownership and operation of the Panama Canal.
This was a highly controversial topic for both countries. America was stoic in wanting to keep control of the canal- they built it, paid for it, engineered it, and reaped the monetary benefits from it. Surrounding the Canal, an American colony was established. It was affluent and run basically separate from the rest of Panama, with its own schools, government, culture, and economy.
America had all the benefits from the current deal they had with Panama- one, of course, built on exploitation. The original document regarding the conception and construction of the canal was signed in 1903 by the United States Secretary of State and a French diplomat who had been in power for 2 weeks as the Panamanian representative. In addition to later selling his shares to the US, this leader never returned to the country after signing the treaty. So yeah, basically Panama got played.
The Panamanians would welcome a surgical scar running down the country that benefited the global market if, of course, they could profit from it. Americans living in the canal zone were affluent and cut off from the rest of Panama. Everyone outside of the canal zone was very poor. The Panamanians peeking into this life saw the injustice, they saw how unfair and cruel the situation was. Panamanians would rather sabotage the canal (which was relatively easy to do since once drained, the canal would take 3 years to fill back up again) than to concede ownership of this new found industry.
So 74 years since the original treaty, plus 23 more years until the new treaty was finalized, neither side was happy. Each side felt like they gave up too much. There was a backlash on both sides. Americans thought Carter had given away a US asset, plus the US citizens living in Panama had to disrupt their lives by moving out and back to the mainland. Everyone is Panama was upset, both the rich and the poor. The Panamanian’s continued to be a puppet for the US since they had to reorganize their government to appease the US.
Greene’s story begins in winter 1976, the year before the notorious treaty was signed, when he meets General Torrijos for the first time. Over the span of 4 years, Greene unravels the story of the General, the Panamanian leader with the most at stake. He uncovers Torrijos’ philosophy and political tactics leading up to the treaty, in his relationship with the citizens of Panama, and the implications of the deal until his mysterious death in 1981 in a plane crash. There is direct evidence that the US had previous assassination attempts against him. That information is from Wikipedia, but according to Torrijos and his trusted friend, many people wanted him dead.
This book is a fascinating insight into a side of the story that is often not told. Greene opens the reader’s eyes to the struggle of the poor country and the man who was the representative of the small, impoverished country with a lot to lose.
PS- Let’s all take a moment and appreciate the courage of Jimmy Carter to help reach an agreement with Panama. Nobody in the US wanted to give the rights to this small, poor, powerless country. He did it because “it was the right thing to do.” He was very unpopular for this and was not reelected probably because of this. Not all presidents have such a moral compass. Reagan, his predecessor, tried to undo the treaty by preaching we built it, we paid for it, it’s ours.
I am reading an old copy of Graham Greene’s “Getting to Know the General.” Unlike most of Greene’s work as a storyteller, this is a biography about a certain Osmar Torrijos, a Panamanian leader during the time of negotiating the ownership of the Panama Canal with the United States.
This copy of “Getting to Know the General” is raggedy, it feels as if is going to fall apart in my hands. I am afraid to open it too wide for fear that the pages are going to fall from the binding like oak leaves in autumn. The front cover looks like it had a fierce battle with a pair of scissors, gingerly hanging onto the book’s spine. The once white pages have been replaced with the familiar yellow-brown fade along the outside edges. It smells properly just how an old book should smell.
Thumbing through the book, I find some additions from the publisher that make the copy seem ancient. In the first pages of the book, there is a line stating that the publisher offers bulk discounts for “sales promotions, premiums, or fundraising.” For details, you write a letter to the Vice President of Special Markets in New York, New York. No telephone number is given, just an address.
The last 4 pages of this book are mail order forms to buy new books. There is a page for Graham Greene, 2 other related authors, and page of books appealing to the subject matter of “Getting to Know the General” labeled “Presidents, Primates & Pundits.” You check the boxes next to the books you want, and along with the price listed next to each book, you add 75 cents per order for postage. Write your check for the calculated amount, and mail the order to New York. If the order is over 10 dollars, you can fill in your credit card information. Expect delivery in 6 weeks.
I thought that I had stumbled on a time portal. I thought that with this book I was glancing far back in time, a time before I was even conceptualized, a time when maybe my mother was a small child. As it turns out, this copy was just as young as me.
The year this book was printed was 1984 and I was 1 year old. “Computer” was a word that did not exist yet.
What is available to me right now is an onslaught of information: Wikipedia summary of the book and life details of the author, detailed information about every book he had ever written and recommended books. I can readily find email addresses, telephone number, and directions (which also could include flight information and hotel rates), hours of operation, and current staff members of the publisher.
Now I can download books by this author (not Getting to Know General, yet) directly to my kindle (it’s on my nightstand next to my bed) in under 6 seconds.
“I find the healthiest way to eat vegetables is to actually eat them” – Marigold
My coworkers, rather my ex-coworkers, when I lost my job, their immediate heartfelt reaction was to not let this minor inconvenience get in my way of pastry domination- a catchphrase that came out of my lips multiple times on a daily basis during my reign as a Pastry Chef at two top Chicago restaurants. Pastry domination, taking over the Chicago dining scene, being one of the best pastry chefs in the nation, making pastry relevant again, was my dream. I worked so damn hard at pastry domination, at being successful, at making badass dishes that people loved and remembered and talked about and Instagrammed. I was in multiple magazines, I was on television, I sold a rather large percentage of dishes, I was for a brief moment successful.
So when that unexpected ax came for my head, when my success wasn’t actually successful, I gave up the fight.
I did. I gave up. I don’t give up on anything. I am a fighter, I am determined, I don’t let anything get in the way when I have made up my mind on something. But I did, I gave up. I threw in the dirty towel.
I have been cooking since legally allowed to start earning money. I didn’t have much background before that- I didn’t learn from grandma, I didn’t grow up in the kitchen under mom’s apron. But once I picked up that knife, I didn’t put it back down. I have 19 years in food service. I have been a part of every angle, in every corner of the industry, learning and experiencing the entire gamut of food service- fast food, catering, cafeteria, fine dining, modern casual dining, large restaurants, small restaurants, serving, busing, prep cook, line cook, pastry assistant, pastry chef, menu development, costing, management, dishwasher. You name it, I have done it.
I thought that this would be important, I thought that this would prove to be an asset. Everyone needs to eat, right?
Well yes, but as it turns out, people don’t really care about what they eat so much. They care about fashion, they care about cocktails, they care about gossip, and movies, and politics, and social media. People care about taking pictures of their food, but they don’t actually care about food. Cooking and cleaning is a nuisance, and eating out is expensive. So the people want something fast and cheap and easy. This leaves me irrelevant.
Not only do I have the years of food service, I put all my eggs in one basket. I gave up everything to pursue my dream. I gave up making any kind of money. I gave up having a life of my own. I lost my friends. I gave up holidays with my family. I gave up on the physical self- I gained weight, lost muscle, stopped going to the gym, got veracious veins, developed asthma, had a bout of psoriasis for about 3 years, got acne, developed alcoholic tendencies, ran myself into a car on my bike which resulted in sever bruising but couldn’t take any time off work, got very sick many times but still worked my 12+ hour shifts, got burned, got cut, worked mornings, worked nights, worked the night and then the next morning, I got mugged on the way home from working a late shift, I got pink eye, I never had vacation, I could hardly even request a day off. I had two full-time jobs at once multiple times so that I could pay rent.
I gave up my dignity- I got yelled at, verbally harassed, degraded, threatened, treated like a child. I never got complimented, nobody ever said “good job”. I didn’t get breaks of any sort, I ate my one meal a day standing up while still trying to get my prep work done. I never had health insurance, (don’t even ask about dental, that’s hilarious) never had time or money for the doctor. All for nothing. All to be a servant. I never made any money. The most money I ever made a college grad would turn their nose up at, and say no way in hell would I work for so little, even at an easy job.
I thought it was worth it, but when that ax came down I felt like a damn fool.
My coworkers told me not to give up, they told me that I was very skilled, that I had something. They looked me in the eye and said to keep going.
They still ask “where did you end up?” I reply I am on welfare.
So I am not following their advice. I am not following the path anymore. I am going to carve out my clearing by giving up.