SOME THINGS LIVE ON FOREVER
Life update, life update! Yesterday I went searching through my back-entries to find this Veronica Mars not!fic I wrote years ago (OMG WAS IT ACTUALLY more than HALF A DECADE AGO. UGH), and that sent me on a long ramble through journals of life past. I still remember some of these events through the frame of what I wrote for my journal. I didn't actually remember writing my "I have a crazy PCT plan" entry, but I still remember that winter school hike where I slipped and fell a thousand times while trying to snowshoe through New Hampshire on a six-inch-thick sheet of ice.
So! Anyway! I am still living in Berkeley, slowly getting softer and softer and less and less acclimated to any extremes of temperature. I am still at my same job as before, which makes me an Old at the company with my venerable three and a half years of employment. Life is generally stable right now, though I spent the summer in a haze of existential uncertainty around whether I would want to keep my job or not if they decided to change the scheduling. So it goes. My roommate and I had a disastrous kitchen experience tonight involving mustard greens. How exactly are you supposed to cook those suckers, because EVERYTHING WE DID TURNED TERRIBLE. At one point we put in a bag of chicken stock and it still didn't make life better! Chicken stock! Chicken stock makes everything better, sorry vegetarians, it's true. At one point I turned to my roommate and said, "It's a...complicated taste. A complicated bitter taste." IT WAS SO BAD. HOW DID COOKING A DARK LEAFY GREEN MAKE IT EVEN MORE BITTER I DON'T UNDERSTAND. At least our terrible cooking experiences generally leave us laughing at the table so hard we have to turn and look away in order to stop. And the tuscan pork sausage was good. And the whole wheat rotelle pasta. And the grated merlot cheddar cheese. And the sliced heirloom tomato. We live a hard life here in Northern California. But for serious, the mustard greens were so bad.
This weekend was a delightful reunion with fangirls at lovelypoet and thelionforreal's apartment, which involved a lot of food and conversation+a review of Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist+much scattered hockey media. clumsygyrl and I crashed in the living room and very virtuously turned off the lights at 2 am and then stayed up until 3 am talking about SRS BSN topics like the best fruits and vegetables and good recipes for cauliflower+our best beloved and least beloved fandoms. At one point I found myself squinting against the light from the clock on the VCR, which was at eye level and brilliantly orange. I grabbed one of the four hockey player action figure boxes that were sitting to the left of the television, and placed the box in front of the clock. I figured I had a better than 25% chance I'd grabbed one of the Evgeni Malkin figures, as there were two of them in the set, but the next morning discovered that I'd grabbed good old Sidney Crosby. Thanks, bro.
So! Anyway! I am still living in Berkeley, slowly getting softer and softer and less and less acclimated to any extremes of temperature. I am still at my same job as before, which makes me an Old at the company with my venerable three and a half years of employment. Life is generally stable right now, though I spent the summer in a haze of existential uncertainty around whether I would want to keep my job or not if they decided to change the scheduling. So it goes. My roommate and I had a disastrous kitchen experience tonight involving mustard greens. How exactly are you supposed to cook those suckers, because EVERYTHING WE DID TURNED TERRIBLE. At one point we put in a bag of chicken stock and it still didn't make life better! Chicken stock! Chicken stock makes everything better, sorry vegetarians, it's true. At one point I turned to my roommate and said, "It's a...complicated taste. A complicated bitter taste." IT WAS SO BAD. HOW DID COOKING A DARK LEAFY GREEN MAKE IT EVEN MORE BITTER I DON'T UNDERSTAND. At least our terrible cooking experiences generally leave us laughing at the table so hard we have to turn and look away in order to stop. And the tuscan pork sausage was good. And the whole wheat rotelle pasta. And the grated merlot cheddar cheese. And the sliced heirloom tomato. We live a hard life here in Northern California. But for serious, the mustard greens were so bad.
This weekend was a delightful reunion with fangirls at lovelypoet and thelionforreal's apartment, which involved a lot of food and conversation+a review of Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist+much scattered hockey media. clumsygyrl and I crashed in the living room and very virtuously turned off the lights at 2 am and then stayed up until 3 am talking about SRS BSN topics like the best fruits and vegetables and good recipes for cauliflower+our best beloved and least beloved fandoms. At one point I found myself squinting against the light from the clock on the VCR, which was at eye level and brilliantly orange. I grabbed one of the four hockey player action figure boxes that were sitting to the left of the television, and placed the box in front of the clock. I figured I had a better than 25% chance I'd grabbed one of the Evgeni Malkin figures, as there were two of them in the set, but the next morning discovered that I'd grabbed good old Sidney Crosby. Thanks, bro.