Outward beauty must always be considered

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I wonder if I tried harder when I was younger to be pretty, how different would my life be now?  I worked hard my whole life, but the payoff is not there.  It doesn’t really matter, I make no money and am only relatively happy.  What if I put that much energy into beauty, feminism, socializing, and flirting?  Would I be married with a good looking and relatively successful husband?  Would we have children and move away?

I look at my skin, and its worn.  Its red and splotchy, its blue and looks like a permanent bruise.  My finger nails are raggedy, my manicure has been reduced down to a 4 finger paint job, my hands ashy.  You say, well at least you know how to cook, that goes a long way.  But it doesn’t really.  People eat out, people eat pasta and cereal and are content with that.  Who cares about a gourmet Paleo breakfast and dinner over having a successful partner that owns designer shoes, someone who can afford the time and money to get a massage, go to the gym, make salon appointments, drink high class wine, can go on vacation with you.

I can’t help but wonder how different things would be if I tried harder to be a female, instead of seeing self adornment as a waste of time.  I have been a beauty minimalist most my life, with the most time and money spent on outward appearance being currently.  I don’t see it as a waste or silly or unimportant or as a way to continually suppress the female by keeping her distracted.  I see it as power, as a way to dominate and gain respect, as a way to better oneself.

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Ruby in the Rough

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I am a ruby in the rough

A deep glitter amongst dull light grey concrete pathways

Straight lines leading down or out, up or in, sidewalks and roads

They lead to some specific destination

I sparkle sideways, my step is diagonal

I shine darkly, my twinkle is more of a complex luster

Gems have no destination, there purpose is singular

To bring peace with a simple innate beauty

To contrast the sharp stones with a kaleidoscope light

As rare as a ruby, subtly I sparkle against typical patterns

How red radiance deepens the light, quietly I drum my hum.

Alone in the middle of the city

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I love to be alone.  Not always, not everyday, but sometimes I want to be utterly alone.  I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to see anybody. I want to feel separated from humanity, to be included in nothing except my own thoughts, feelings, impressions, and inspirations.  It has nothing to do with depression, anger, or disappointment.  Its not about love lost, betrayal, or bitterness.  It is that I simply like to be with only myself.

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Its hard to be alone, to find solitude and peace in the active city.  More so with roommates whom are often home because you live in a cold, expensive city.  Fortunately for my lonely tastes, my backyard dead ends directly with the graveyard.  There is a tall concrete wall separating the world of the living with the damnation of the deceased.  Walk around the block, and on the other side is an entrance into a silent, distant world.  A life that is not visited by many living souls, a quite village, a silent dance party.  I can stroll a brief 10 minutes around the block and enter a world where I can find complete solitude in the middle of an early almost- warm spring day.  Trapped within the tall and cool concrete walls, even the sounds of the passing cars and stopping busses are muted.  So quickly and easily the city life is reduced to simply myself.  Within these silent walls I walk through all that remains of so many lives, the repayments of a history of people are boiled down to two dates, a slab of marble, and if you are lucky a short quote or if you are really lucky a giant, out dated statue.

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The cemetery during the day does not provoke feeling of creepiness, danger, or uncertainty.  Exposed under watchful glare of father sun, the cemetery inspires serenity, introspection, and reflection.  The weight of the stones change the magnitude of oneself, challenges your notion of your place on history’s timeline.  Its impossible not to see your existence as just a snapshot in time.

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Wandering alone, slightly cold, with my scarf wrapped all the way down my wrists, curling around my red fingers, I seek out the patches of sunshine, avoid the patches of shadow created by the old tall trees and the cold tall marble statues.  I find a small flowering tree.  Its branches reach down toward the ground and are speckled with tiny white flowers.  The tree is peaceful, serene, perfect in the graveyard.  So still and so beautiful.  Instantly, I want this to be a place for a ceremony of marriage.  I know that sounds creepy, but I just explained how its so perfect.  IMG_9902IMG_9908IMG_9914

School Teacher Jazz

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I dressed like a school teacher today. Long, flowing dress, loss fitting with a nice retro sweater on top.  It felt right, good.  Not sexy or male inviting, but good. Nice. Warming.

I have been feeling a little more than bad lately due to many reasons: bad diet, too much drunkenness, sheer hormones, inconsiderate roommate, too much sugar, not enough love.

I had a great dance tonight and that’s where it ended.  A great dance. The best dance. The best dance ever. So in synced, so right, so tribal, so it. So the best.  My friends were so impressed, so jealous, so suggested..the secret?  I am sure that the man was gay.  That’s why it was so easy, so natural, so unpressured, so simple.  What does this say about me and my sexuality? Why do I pair so well with my gay men? It was marvelous, that dance. No talking, no walls, just that fucking awesome band blaring out the feeling.  12 member band on a Wednesday night making me feel great. So great.

Spring Taste

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Crème Fraiche Coffee Cake with blueberries and lemon glaze
Crème Fraiche Coffee Cake with blueberries and lemon glaze

The spring is not set so tight this year, it’s gotten loose and rusty from years of abuse and over anticipation.  It’s a slow start, still getting cold at a moments notice, bone chilling when the sun hides.  Scarves are still in full effect, slippers are a house standard, the bed is still weighed down with blankets.  Despite the rusty snap that has yet to scar away old man winter, I cannot contain my excitement to throw off my puffy winter jacket, sacrifice it to the fire pit, watch it burn in jubilation of light clothes treading.

Strawberry Shortcake, poppy seeds and whipped coconut cream
Strawberry Shortcake, poppy seeds and whipped coconut cream

Maybe it is too soon to think about berries and juicy fruit, airy mousses and food as light as the clouds, bright tastes and sunshine colors, but frankly that does not bother me.  I don’t want winter foods. Squash time is past time, pomegranates are winter’s whore. Pears are a long way off, let’s forget about the apple for the time being.  Maple is for later, and so it the brussel sprout.  So to begin the new growing season, the season of fun, outdoors, and social interaction, I made these things:

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Pistachio cake, tiramisu semifreddo, fresh raspberries
Coconut panna cotta, rhubarb compote, strawberry-rum granite, candied cocoa nibs
Coconut panna cotta, rhubarb compote, strawberry-rum granite, candied cocoa nibs
Cookie Plate, with honey caramel and peanut butter frosting
Cookie Plate, with honey caramel and peanut butter frosting

The world is not ready for it, yet

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Red Velvet Wine Cake, Winter Rose Semifreddo, Pomegranate Glaze, Rioja Pearls, Toasted Almonds
Red Velvet Wine Cake, Winter Rose Semifreddo, Pomegranate Glaze, Rioja Pearls, Toasted Almonds

I love this dessert.  I think its super cool, hip, and refreshing.  It is described as every girls dream: red wine, dark chocolate, red roses. It is served during valentines, for a sexy and sophisticated way to share a sensual experience.

Breakfast, my favorite meal

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Sweet hash brown -n- egg

It all started with the sweet potato. And not wanting to cut the large starchy football into tiny squares, and not wanting to wait for the hard cubes to soften in the skillet.  The cheese grater, or sponge shredded, depending on what you call it, became my very good friend and did the work pretty much for me.  No, no, do not bother to peel the brown wrapping, leave it be and grate away.

Hash brown style cook those shoe string sized starch nuggets in a cast iron pan, over moderate heat, in a good amount of fat.  I prefer olive oil (not extra virgin, that is not good for high heat cooking), add a dollop of butter or bacon fat if you have it lying around.  Place the shreds of orange potato in the hot skillet, spread evenly covering the whole surface of the pan.  Sprinkle with salt, and let fry for 10 minutes.  Move the pan around and see if the disk of congruent strings moves easily and together, like a raft on an ocean.  If so, time to invert.  Place a large dinner plate over the circle of sweet potato, and carefully turn  the skillet upside down, landing the potato Frisbee on the plate,  like a flipping a cake out of its pan.  Grease the hot skillet once again, and slide the hash brown disc back into the hot pool of fat, raw side down.  Finish cooking for 10 minutes more, over low to medium heat.  The sweet potato hash with start to smell charred and sweet.  Finish with a dusting of salt.

Sweet Brown Skillet Hash

Proceed to top the golden deliciousness with more examples of fine ingredients found on the countertop and in the nearby fridge.  For this particular meal I added avocado, arugula, tomatoes, zucchini, mushrooms, 2 sunshine eggs.  This is a simple meal, one that you can tailor depending on what is in the house.  Don’t go to the store with a list of ingredients to make up a nice breakfast for yourself, use what you have and experiment with your favorite toppings.

To think that for a long time I never ate breakfast, and wasn’t all that nuts about eggs.  I guess that I was a fool then. Man, I can’t wait to have some breakfast tomorrow.

Remember Me?

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Sometimes I get so distracted and excited and sidetracked that I get overwhelmed and confused and forget who I am.  Those little details the describe oneself, that you take for granted if you don’t work at keeping them trim and proper.  When you work too much it’s easy to forget what types of things you like to do in your spare time, what are the songs that consistently make you dance, that favorite scented shampoo, how and why to paint your toenails, how to find enjoyment in whatever it is you choose to do.  When you spend too much of your spare time chasing beer or boys, the battery in your camera dies, all your good drawing pens get lost, you don’t have a good book to read, and you have no idea what is going on in politics.

I joined a dating website and you have to sell yourself to strangers, make yourself seem cool, intelligent, good looking but not fucking hot, charming, nonchalant.  It’s about nit picking trivial details to try and describe the entirely of your strange and stretching personality in a few words to an invisible room full mostly of ugly men.  But hell, there might be a cute one out there looking for a weird, but kinda cute, extremely witty, sorta young lady.

Its making me feel introspective that I cannot round out in a few sentences what I am about.  I am not sure myself.  I mean I sorta forgot.  With chasing a career goal and filling in the free time with matters of the physical and the heart, I squeezed out that slice of pie that is devoted to self-experimentation.  When I hustle and bustle too much, the adornments are kept very simple; I travel light.  Anything can get reacquired, remembered, reconceived, but sometimes I forget where I left the notes.

Struggling with self-doubt and simultaneously anger at not trusting my abilities.  You have to remain humble, but why am I so god damn scared?  Confidence is the key, hesitation under bakes the cake.  I used to trust myself, but keep disappointing myself  because I set my standards to the moon high.  Where did that trust go?  Its should be around here somewhere.

I am working on becoming my self again.  Doing the things that I feel like doing, not letting the outside world sway me quite so much.  I am constantly inspired, but I need to remember to stay focused on matters that directly relate to the health and welfare of the personal empire.

Chukandar Gosht

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Beef and Beet curry:

2# beef, cut into large cubes- sear in salt

2 large onions and 2 carrots, diced.  Sauté, add spices: toast coriander, cumin, and anise, purée with garlic and ginger.   Garam Masala, clove, cayenne, turmeric, cinnamon, salt and pepper.  Deglaze with wine.

2 large beets, small dice, 1 fennel bulb, chicken stock to cover (ok preferably beef, but that’s what I got in the house.  Made from leftover chicken bones).

Boil then simmer 2 hours.

Taste.

Eat with mashed cauliflower, for a Palo version.

A Rant for Owen Meany

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WHY DON’T WE TAX OIL THE SAME WAY WE TAX CIGARETTES AND ALCOHOL?

THAT TAX SHOULD GO FOR EDUCATION. USING CIG AND ALCOHOL MONEY FOR THE CHICDREN IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE.

OIL IS CHEAP NOW, BUT IT SHOULDN’T BE. KEEP IT EXPENSIVE NO MATTER THE MARKET DEMAND.

IF THE PRICE FALLS, GIVE IT TO HELP THE FUTURE.