1 bag of frozen tater tots
1/2 onion diced
3 cloves minced garlic
1 can large black olives, pitted, strained, and diced
2 tbsp. basil pesto
cayenne pepper to taste
1 fuckload (but not too much) butter
lightly saute everything but the tots. veggies should not be completely cooked, just softened.
toss sauteed mixture with frozen tots in large mixing bowl.
evenly distribute in a casserole dish (metal works better than glass). cover with tin foil.
bake for 30 mins at 425. uncover. bake an additional 15 mins (or until desired crustification is achieved)
don't burn your mouth, and devour indiscriminately.
welp. we're here. i was pretty excited on the drive out. there was some drama the night we were supposed to get here, which delayed our arrival until yesterday, so we spent the night in reno. it also put me in a less pleasant space than what i probably should be in. but, it was worked out (ish), so i just need to get over it.
then this morning, mom called to tell me that uncle pete died. i wasn't nearly as close to him as bruce was, but it's still a shock. yet another reminder that none of us are here forever, and something rather opposite a boon to my emotional state. there's still so much in the air. i can't stop trying, that will be the end of it. so i will keep trying. because i have to. but it just doesn't have that thrill of adventure that i was hoping for. it's just a constant oscillation between being awestruck by the fact that i'm here (and here is absolutely amazing, by the way), and mortified that i've made a terrible, terrible mistake.
so, it's great that i'm alone and i'm here and it's super neat. and it's awful at the same time.
i don't know. just keep trucking. that's the main thing.
2013 26 April :: 12.21am
:: Mood: the usual
:: Music: David Bowie - The Next Day
Auschwitz, this one's for you
i don't even know if you bother to read this shit.
hell, i don't even know you bother to do this shit. so, i obviously am not reading yours. so, no. odds are good you won't be reading this.
but, nonetheless, this comic made me think of you. and i hope it helps. i'm somewhat afraid to encroach upon some of the touchy, weight-related subjects. but this seemed important.
WE have body issues. societal cultures and norms and gender constructs, in addition to inferiority complexes and mental and physical shortcomings and inabilities. but we are all people. and people need to get better at being a society that thrives on support of one another as opposed to condemnation of those that are, well, not us.
(my post about modern medicine and society's struggle with death is closely related, but for a later time.)
It was a 4/20 miracle!
So last night on the way home from a party in saranac with my girlfriend, Stacey, I ran out of gas. We were about 2 miles from a gas station, but it was 1 at night and we were in the middle of nowhere (the wrong side of 12 mile and lincoln lake road) so we started walking. I expect Stacey to complain because it is all my fault but she's a fucking trooper and never said a negative word. Anyway, we get maybe a half mile down the road, with me holding out my gas can for everyone who passed us to see, before we see brake lights. Our savior was in a red truck, and his name was Mike. Before we get another half mile, Mike asks if we smoke. We say hell yes, and he passes us a bowl. Stacey starts talking about how lame the party we came from was (we basically all sat around calling people trying to get dope all night) and the guy gives us a little bag with about a gram in it. He gets us to the gas station and back, and our night was a million times better.
the even bigger issue is that you could rack up a $70 tab, after getting a discount, and each person can still only tip 67 cents? c'mon, people. the minimum total tip on that should be at least $10.50, regardless of how awful your experience was. and i suppose that was the joke, them only leaving a $2 tip ... but still, i just get so mad at people who make math harder than it is.
i'm really starting to hope this california thing works out. although, now that i'm finally building some connections in town, it seems kind of stupid. but, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. i should take it.
and i know what dad thinks, not that he's necessarily right or wrong, but i'm doing it anyway. i just don't have anywhere to put my shit.
shit in one hand and want in the other
see which fills up first.
well, my hands are full, and i'm sick of this shit. time to take matters into my own damn toilet.
i'm sick of shitting in other people's toilets only to have them bitch about the water bill.
time to build my own goddamn toilet.
i want my own goddamn toilet.
i guess what i'm trying to say is that i want the shit on my hands to be on my own terms. because, fuck this shit. and - shitting aside - fucking won't happen on its own. i suppose that means i need to take other matters in my own hands as well.
meanwhile, in maryland
it's about 55 out right now, mostly sunny. just got done with a hilly 6 mile bike ride. started using nicotine lozenges this morning. they're weird. i still want to smoke. but at least i don't reek of cigarettes? it's only for the rest of the week, so i'm sure i can manage.
so many good things: first burger and fries at five guys (oh. my god. seriously right up there with mr. burger). went to a concert in annapolis last night, which was fun. the great and powerful oz was surprisingly enjoyable. going to hang with kevie-poo on friday! good things.
it's been hard, too, though. libby is looking better, and is really taking her treatment seriously. it's difficult to watch her struggle, but it's important that i get to, first to better understand what she's going through, but also just to make it real for me. as much as i got from the literature they gave us, and the conference calls, and everything else, it wasn't real until i got to see her have to eat a meal (and entirely too real on sunday when i had to eat every meal with her and clear my plate every time. i did well, up until dinner, when i got a to-go box. but we talked it out). she's a trooper, and ryan is amazing with her. she's in the best hands she could possibly be, so it's nice to have that reassurance. it sucks to realize that i'm in no fit state to help much of anyone, and that i probably would not be the best person to have around her all the time, but at least i can help in my own small ways while i'm here. she did say she was impressed by and glad that we were being so reasonable and chipper about everything. so that's good. and i'm also immensely thankful that she's being so reasonable and chipper about it. that can't be easy. apparently a lot of people with eating disorders tend to be extremely hurtful and argumentative. she doesn't always like the rules that she has to follow, or our implementation of them, but at least it stays calm and cool, instead of breaking out into yelling matches all the time. she still has a long way to go, though.
had a good talk with ryan last night about my life as well. seeing a live show really made me want to play again. and he joined the burgeoning ranks of people that hands down say i just need to go back to school. i really need to look into that program at mtsu. there are other options too. basically depends on which program feels like the best fit and where i want to wind up geographically. murfreesboro, tn; denver, co; new york, ny; baltimore, md? i dunno. i'm really leaning toward tennessee right now. just need to dig deeper and talk to the universities.
we'll see. in the meantime, i'm enjoying vacation. and riding a bike in a t-shirt and shorts, when i would otherwise be freezing balls back home. as quirky and weird as ryan can be about things, it's nice to see the other side - what life could be like, if i wanted to have a cleaning lady and a dog walking lady and two brand new cars in my custom-built castle. sure beats the hell out of where i'm at now. although, i would probably do things a little differently, even if i had the money. but still, inspiration. potential goals to aspire to. better than wallowing in my shit-hole life like i have been the past three years.
Generally, when people have stage four cancer they freak out a little bit. They emotion dump. Something.
Aside from beating it back as best as possible, my mother seems to be generally more concerned with other people freaking out. I think the fact that she has described chemo as "sort of fun" and stage IV cancer as "One of the worse ones, I'm not sure, I don't think it goes to V" kind of highlights why she's one of the few people in life I'd rather not have die of cancer right now.
She's always been intensely unconcerned with what the world thinks is important. She had kids, grew some gardens, and now she's likely dieing. Why the hell is everyone so concerned with this?
The way you act, the way you live, the way you die is all up for scrutiny. Its nice to see someone saying to hell with it and just enjoying the ride.
Its just not so nice when its your mother. I cant tell If I can pull off her particular brand of life philosophy right this instant.
I'm beginning to think that what you give up on in life is far more defining than what you acquire, or what you have lost.
What you acquire is rarely tied to any rational explanation. What you lose is even more random. What we give up intentionally is perhaps the one choice we can say is our own. Less influenced by things outside of our intentions.
I imagine we mostly lump giving up on a thing with a loss of a thing. Perhaps I'm splitting hairs best left whole, perhaps not. Its interesting to look at things from my life and decide which was which. What did I cast aside, and what has life cast aside without my input?
Sometimes life removes something important and you realize just how long its been since you cast it aside with disinterest and apathy. Even if the day before you wouldn't have described it in such a way.
Family is like that. You get a call and the word "cancer" makes you think about how little you've kept in touch.
although i realize quite well that my life is nobody's responsibility but my own, i still wonder why it falls to me. if this life is such a gift, why does it usually seem like a hopeless pile of shit that is apparently mine to sort through. and better yet, even if you do go and get messy and start trying to make sense of it; trying to make it better, it is the job of the rest of the world to keep piling more shit on.
even worse is the realization that you're doing it to everyone else too. all of this shit that you never asked for, but has been thrust upon you for caretaking, is rolling downhill. even if your intent is to leave the smallest footprint possible, the accidental shit that you produce, or is heaped upon you, winds up landing on the ones near to you that also don't deserve it. so it comes off as you being a lazy son of a bitch, that can't adequately handle their shitload. and then the neighbors hate you. the family loves you (if you're lucky), but hates to see you struggle, hates to see you continually fail, and honestly - hates dealing with your excess shit all the time.
then it seems impossible, insurmountable, just looking at what effort you already did put into it, back when you bought into their system and their propaganda, and convinced yourself that their dream was your dream too, when you still wound up here, so dismally short of their goals, or yours, or basically anyone's. what makes a goal attainable? what differentiates the good aspirations from the bad? does it even fucking matter when you're not going to reach any of them, regardless of whether or not that's actually what you want and need and are capable of?
i know that life's not all bad. it's also not all sunshine and rainbows and happy feels. these are inevitable facts of existence in this world. important, in that you can't appreciate the good without a taste of the bad. and even some things that are unpleasant can ultimately turn out to be beneficial.
but it's really hard to keep trudging on when you don't even know where you're going. and if the way that you're headed is the 'right' one. and when you come to realize that after all that trudging, you're no further along, no closer to the destination that isn't even really there. it's so hard to keep going. because you don't know what the point is anymore, or if there ever was one to begin with.
i realize that they don't necessarily sound that different as you change them, but that's because it's just a basic tone generator. it would be fun to be able to compose something that is a combination of different pitches, and play around with how altering the waveforms would change the harmonic interaction. some reverb would also be nice.
i have successfully stopped complaining, simply by forgetting that today is valentine's day. several times. even after many reminders.
i honestly like valentine's. if halloween is a woman's excuse to dress up all slutty, then valentine's - in my perception - has always been the best excuse to be overly, disgustingly chivalrous; which i enjoy immensely.
the prevalence of suitable subjects upon which to inflict my chivalry has been minimal of late, so - being single - i have grounds enough to bitch about another hallmark holiday, but the truth is: i like this one. i just haven't had cause to celebrate it in awhile. so i forgot.
halfheartedly seeking sexy rumpus. sorry for the awkward.
finally met someone that i like. confessed to my attraction. feeling was reciprocated. i expressed my reluctance to pursue things further, due to both of our lives being big piles of shit at the moment, which need to be sorted out prior to any involvement. she agreed.
not sure if making sound decisions based on logical analysis of situation
or habitually blocking own cock
seriously, i've done it before. but that was unintentional. i feel that the intent in this scenario is important. either way, shit's complicated, man.