Bits and Pieces of My Recent Life...
...which I have been horribly negligent in telling you about
LIFE IN A SWAMP
In Williamsburg, nothing ever dries; my delicates hang on the line for a full day before the humidity relinquishes some modicum of control and they shed enough moisture to go into my drawer. Even undressing has become a bittersweet process. In this climate, being rid of clothes is bliss but the process of shedding them is painful to an extreme. Each leg of my jeans clings to me, fighting to stay on, while I coaxingly persuade them off.
ON WEDDINGS
I got my first manicure! It was a slightly harrowing experience... I've never come to terms with emery boards. I clenched my teeth while she filed my nails into short, even rectangles, then gritted them when I realized that she was coming at my cuticles next. I got a french manicure in semi-natural colors, then sat with my fingers under a special dryer. Thank god it was already paid for... After my nails had been magically transformed into sophistication, I admired them constantly and couldn't bear to reach into my purse in case I hurt them.
A week later, after returning to real life, there were chips in all ten decorations and little cracks ran through most of them just like that cracked finish on vases. This new experience was equally thrilling. Carefully chipped manicure.
When the DJ put on a remix of Indian music, the entire Indian branch of the family got up to dance. On the floor, a fifty or sixty year old woman in an elegant sari showed me that I wasn't using my shoulders enough and laughing, corrected me. At the end of the song, the white kids were congratulated on their efforts by a set of (genuinely pleased) remote aunts and uncles. So wonderful!
LAZY MORNINGS
Lying with my cheek pressed against your forehead, balancing my English book in one hand with my other arm mixed up with you- turning pages and underlining the Important Passages becomes tricky. Maybe if I wedge the book on my knee and press the page down with my wrist I'll be able to write a marginal note without waking you or disturbing the wonderful, warm presence of your skin against mine.
IN LECTURE
The spine of the slender girl in front of me is a slight indent in a smooth expanse of tan shoulders. But when she sneezes, and her shoulders are sent forward in an involuntary convulsion, each vertebrae appears in a pearl chain from her nape to the low back of her shirt. Thank goodness she's there; my professor just looked at the clock and said, "It's only noon? I don't think I can do this!" It's a slow day in chemistry.
STRESS vs BREAD
Making bread is one of my two foolproof ways of changing my mood. (the other sure method is to take a shower... I can't resist that)
1. You have to focus while measuring out ingredients. Most of my recipes are for industrial size recipes, so I have to push everything out of my mind to concentrate on reducing each ingredient by the same factor.
2. Kneading the bread, gently worrying it and developing the gluten, coaxing it with your fingers and stretching it properly to create a consistent matrix... the physical aspect is absorbing. You take out your stress on the bread, while still having to moderate and channel your energy. And your newly cleansed mind is free to wander while your repetitive fingers and body deal with the bread.
3. Then you have to be patient. Once the bread is rising, there is nothing you can do. And you have to accept that. Do something else, constructive or otherwise, but nothing connected to the bread.
4. When you see that the dough has risen (and thank god the yeast was alive), punching down the dough is strangely cathartic- gently sinking your fist into the dough and watching it slowly deflate. Forming the dough into smooth loaves is reassuring, as the impossibly separate ingredients start to resemble an end product and you can see the small rounds of dough becoming a braided loaf (we're making challah, at the moment).
5. And then there's more patience, and forcing yourself to sit down and breathe out. Because the bread has to bake and fill the house with it's smell before it's done.
6. The sense of creation at the end is amazing. You made completely unlike foods and into something new and wonderful. And there's nothing more comforting than eating hot bread fresh from the oven, spread with melted butter. Mmmmm.
It takes effort to stay unhappy during the process.
IMPORTANT NOTICE
Three out of Three Hot College Hotties Surveyed Say:
Don't Pop Your Fucking Collar, Douchebag!
(for supporting evidence, please click here)
CONSUMER THERAPY
I got four new pairs of shoes. Excessive, maybe. Necessary, certainly. And two were thrift store purchases for a combined value of six dollars, so that's ok. And I got a floor length, high necked, stunningly beautiful black velvet coat that you will die when you see. And a turtleneck. Seemingly anticlimactic after the prior purchases, but not really.
I think that's all for now.
LIFE IN A SWAMP
In Williamsburg, nothing ever dries; my delicates hang on the line for a full day before the humidity relinquishes some modicum of control and they shed enough moisture to go into my drawer. Even undressing has become a bittersweet process. In this climate, being rid of clothes is bliss but the process of shedding them is painful to an extreme. Each leg of my jeans clings to me, fighting to stay on, while I coaxingly persuade them off.
ON WEDDINGS
I got my first manicure! It was a slightly harrowing experience... I've never come to terms with emery boards. I clenched my teeth while she filed my nails into short, even rectangles, then gritted them when I realized that she was coming at my cuticles next. I got a french manicure in semi-natural colors, then sat with my fingers under a special dryer. Thank god it was already paid for... After my nails had been magically transformed into sophistication, I admired them constantly and couldn't bear to reach into my purse in case I hurt them.
A week later, after returning to real life, there were chips in all ten decorations and little cracks ran through most of them just like that cracked finish on vases. This new experience was equally thrilling. Carefully chipped manicure.
When the DJ put on a remix of Indian music, the entire Indian branch of the family got up to dance. On the floor, a fifty or sixty year old woman in an elegant sari showed me that I wasn't using my shoulders enough and laughing, corrected me. At the end of the song, the white kids were congratulated on their efforts by a set of (genuinely pleased) remote aunts and uncles. So wonderful!
LAZY MORNINGS
Lying with my cheek pressed against your forehead, balancing my English book in one hand with my other arm mixed up with you- turning pages and underlining the Important Passages becomes tricky. Maybe if I wedge the book on my knee and press the page down with my wrist I'll be able to write a marginal note without waking you or disturbing the wonderful, warm presence of your skin against mine.
IN LECTURE
The spine of the slender girl in front of me is a slight indent in a smooth expanse of tan shoulders. But when she sneezes, and her shoulders are sent forward in an involuntary convulsion, each vertebrae appears in a pearl chain from her nape to the low back of her shirt. Thank goodness she's there; my professor just looked at the clock and said, "It's only noon? I don't think I can do this!" It's a slow day in chemistry.
STRESS vs BREAD
Making bread is one of my two foolproof ways of changing my mood. (the other sure method is to take a shower... I can't resist that)
1. You have to focus while measuring out ingredients. Most of my recipes are for industrial size recipes, so I have to push everything out of my mind to concentrate on reducing each ingredient by the same factor.
2. Kneading the bread, gently worrying it and developing the gluten, coaxing it with your fingers and stretching it properly to create a consistent matrix... the physical aspect is absorbing. You take out your stress on the bread, while still having to moderate and channel your energy. And your newly cleansed mind is free to wander while your repetitive fingers and body deal with the bread.
3. Then you have to be patient. Once the bread is rising, there is nothing you can do. And you have to accept that. Do something else, constructive or otherwise, but nothing connected to the bread.
4. When you see that the dough has risen (and thank god the yeast was alive), punching down the dough is strangely cathartic- gently sinking your fist into the dough and watching it slowly deflate. Forming the dough into smooth loaves is reassuring, as the impossibly separate ingredients start to resemble an end product and you can see the small rounds of dough becoming a braided loaf (we're making challah, at the moment).
5. And then there's more patience, and forcing yourself to sit down and breathe out. Because the bread has to bake and fill the house with it's smell before it's done.
6. The sense of creation at the end is amazing. You made completely unlike foods and into something new and wonderful. And there's nothing more comforting than eating hot bread fresh from the oven, spread with melted butter. Mmmmm.
It takes effort to stay unhappy during the process.
IMPORTANT NOTICE
Three out of Three Hot College Hotties Surveyed Say:
Don't Pop Your Fucking Collar, Douchebag!
(for supporting evidence, please click here)
CONSUMER THERAPY
I got four new pairs of shoes. Excessive, maybe. Necessary, certainly. And two were thrift store purchases for a combined value of six dollars, so that's ok. And I got a floor length, high necked, stunningly beautiful black velvet coat that you will die when you see. And a turtleneck. Seemingly anticlimactic after the prior purchases, but not really.
I think that's all for now.