dead boy lives
Now that the health scares have flared up and passed on I can write in this thing without feeling weird about avoiding something that affected everything I did for four months. Suffice to say the crisis has passed.
Classes are officially kicking my ass. I don't think I'll ever do another jumpstart semester with 3 classes. Its a bit much, and there's never enough time to finish what needs to be done, not to say I haven't kept up, my nerves are just a wee bit shot. I need to get in there and schedule my classes for next semester. I will not get stuck with the bottom of the barrel as I usually do.
So who's got some snazzy recipes that Mike can use to buff up his culinary skills? Night classes aren't really conducive to eating dinner at a normal time, thus I've been cooking before class, so that 1. I don't starve and 2. so that I stop heating up microwaveable shit and eating substandard sludge. So far the homemade pierogies, fresh tortellini, devilled eggs, seafood salad, chicken scallupina and mozzerella sticks have all come out swimmingly. I won't even go into the abomination that was my chicken and sausage gumbo.
My adventures in the kitchen seem to be worrying my grandmother a tad. She's entirely used to ruling the kitchen with an iron fist. Everytime I get behind the stove she suffers a nervous breakdown and starts talking about what a heretic I am. Yes, the g-ma is a bit fanatical about cooking. I make a pierogi and she tells me its the bastard child of an irishman and a bowl of ravioli. Ah, such is life.
I've come to the conclusion that I don't really know where I'll be in a year. And I'm ok with that. I think... Just when I had given up, after I alter my career path, I start writing again, a lot. Frankly, go fucking figure. Maybe writing isn't meant to be my main career path but then again, maybe it is. I have to be at least somewhat schizophrenic, no one else in their right mind up and changes directions when they've got roughly two thirds of both a journalism degree and a theater degree in the bag, do they? Hellooooo self doubt. What will be will be I suppose. In the meantime I'll turn the music up loud, it helps I tell you.
Thats all for now fuckers.
Classes are officially kicking my ass. I don't think I'll ever do another jumpstart semester with 3 classes. Its a bit much, and there's never enough time to finish what needs to be done, not to say I haven't kept up, my nerves are just a wee bit shot. I need to get in there and schedule my classes for next semester. I will not get stuck with the bottom of the barrel as I usually do.
So who's got some snazzy recipes that Mike can use to buff up his culinary skills? Night classes aren't really conducive to eating dinner at a normal time, thus I've been cooking before class, so that 1. I don't starve and 2. so that I stop heating up microwaveable shit and eating substandard sludge. So far the homemade pierogies, fresh tortellini, devilled eggs, seafood salad, chicken scallupina and mozzerella sticks have all come out swimmingly. I won't even go into the abomination that was my chicken and sausage gumbo.
My adventures in the kitchen seem to be worrying my grandmother a tad. She's entirely used to ruling the kitchen with an iron fist. Everytime I get behind the stove she suffers a nervous breakdown and starts talking about what a heretic I am. Yes, the g-ma is a bit fanatical about cooking. I make a pierogi and she tells me its the bastard child of an irishman and a bowl of ravioli. Ah, such is life.
I've come to the conclusion that I don't really know where I'll be in a year. And I'm ok with that. I think... Just when I had given up, after I alter my career path, I start writing again, a lot. Frankly, go fucking figure. Maybe writing isn't meant to be my main career path but then again, maybe it is. I have to be at least somewhat schizophrenic, no one else in their right mind up and changes directions when they've got roughly two thirds of both a journalism degree and a theater degree in the bag, do they? Hellooooo self doubt. What will be will be I suppose. In the meantime I'll turn the music up loud, it helps I tell you.
Thats all for now fuckers.