I'm currently watching all the countries walk into the Olympic stadium. The commentators are starting to annoy me a bit, they keep talking about how certain countries haven't won anything, did really badly in a certain sport at some point. This seems contrary to the general spirit of the Olympics - that worldwide event that brings everyone together for peaceful competition...
It certainly is making me realize some things about the things we all have in common - so many of the athletes, from so many of the countries, are holding up their phones and cameras, recording the ceremony as they march in it.
I watched the first part of the ceremony, by surprise, at my local yarn shop. I say by surprise because I expected I'd just watch the end of it - I forgot there was a TV at the store, and it hardly occurred to me that the group would want to watch.
How silly of me.
Everyone was (almost equally stunned) thrilled to watch the opening ceremony... with, maybe, the exception of the person who streamed it live illegally earlier today. He enjoyed goading us about what was to come - like the special guest keyboard artist during Chariots of Fire.
It was a pretty eclectic group of people to watch the Olympics with. I mean, it's a pretty eclectic group at knit night anyways - all ages and backgrounds, brought together by our love of knitting, relationships forged by universal human experiences (like our cell phones' autocorrect...)
This time, that experience was the Olympics. We reminisced a tad, complained about how some sports (rowing) don't seem to get airtime. And then the ceremony started, and, but for a few bits of commentary, we'd stopped talking. It was breathtaking, increasingly so as it continued. At the end of the first part, it took some inane comment by television voices to break the silence.
I remember thinking partway through that I'll probably remember that moment for a long time to come. To so strongly share a moment with people you so barely know... it's not something you forget easily.
Now they're playing "Staying Alive". I watched the athletes from Finland singing along. ... But really... don't we all?
Friday, July 27, 2012
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
This doesn't mean I'm a dog person... yet
I'm just a little bit caught in the middle, life is a maze, and love is a riddle...
He told me that dogs could cure loneliness. Okay, not exactly. He told me a dog is the best thing when you're lonely. I didn't believe him. I don't like dogs. I've never liked dogs.
Okay, not exactly.
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone, I've tried, and I don't know why...
My mom tells me I wanted a dog once. Long ago, it would have been third or fourth or first grade or something. Probably the latter, because by third grade I was set on guinea pigs, and by fourth grade I'd found the perfect pair.
Of course we weren't going to get a dog. What first grader would actually take care of a dog, take it for walks, scoop its poop, no matter how much she pleads and promises? And I doubt our cat would have been happy about it. But I ended up with the best of both worlds - neighbors who had a golden retriever and a basset hound, kept in by electric fence, who told me I could go play with the dogs whenever I wanted. Dogs to play with but not clean up after? I loved those dogs. When the family asked me if I could take care of them for a week, I was in heaven.
Slow it down, make it stop, or else my heart is gonna pop.
These days, every dog I meet loves me - far more than I love them. I'm small, and most of the dogs I meet are big and want to lick my face. I probably smell of cat most of the time, perhaps that's it. Even supposedly well trained dogs, I'm always afraid they're going to push me over - something almost your weight flying at you, it's not too hard to imagine. The only dogs that didn't jump at me every time they saw me were my grandma's dogs. Oh, well, they did, actually, but only because I always gave them treats - and they were little tiny dogs, couldn't reach my waist if they jumped. And they pooped all over the place. Now that they're back in the shelter, though, it seems that's only because they weren't let out enough. That story is for another day, though.
Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot, to be something I'm not...
I told him I don't like dogs. He told me that I just haven't found the right one yet. I guess believed him. Dogs are different, I know. I mean, cats are different, and there's not nearly as much variation in cats as there is in dogs. Temperament wise, maybe. But size, coloring, hair, breed, whatever else - dogs take the cake on that one.
I'm just a little girl lost in the moment, I'm so scared, but I don't show it...
He told me dogs cure loneliness. I didn't believe him. He told me I just needed to find the right dog. He was right.
It took a tired cocker spaniel and a good movie. Animals are like kids - it's always a compliment when they like you, because they have no reason to hide anything (and they usually have a better intuition about who they can trust than adults do). So I don't totally mind when hundred-pound labs jump in my face, I just don't enjoy it. However, when this little cocker climbed in my lap to take a nap, I just forgot everything.
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down, I know, I've got to let it go... and just enjoy the show.
I forgot about the friends who may or may not still be friends. I forgot about the little gestures I usually overthink, overexamine, overworry. I forgot about not having a decently-paying job. I forgot about the thesis I'm supposed to be researching, the internship I'm supposed to be working on. With this gorgeous creature picking me out of everyone in the room, me over the actual dog lovers, looking me in the eye and then falling asleep across my stomach... I even forgot the pain of losing my grandma. I just relaxed and enjoyed the show.
He told me that dogs could cure loneliness. Okay, not exactly. He told me a dog is the best thing when you're lonely. I didn't believe him. I don't like dogs. I've never liked dogs.
Okay, not exactly.
I don't know where to go, can't do it alone, I've tried, and I don't know why...
My mom tells me I wanted a dog once. Long ago, it would have been third or fourth or first grade or something. Probably the latter, because by third grade I was set on guinea pigs, and by fourth grade I'd found the perfect pair.
Of course we weren't going to get a dog. What first grader would actually take care of a dog, take it for walks, scoop its poop, no matter how much she pleads and promises? And I doubt our cat would have been happy about it. But I ended up with the best of both worlds - neighbors who had a golden retriever and a basset hound, kept in by electric fence, who told me I could go play with the dogs whenever I wanted. Dogs to play with but not clean up after? I loved those dogs. When the family asked me if I could take care of them for a week, I was in heaven.
Slow it down, make it stop, or else my heart is gonna pop.
These days, every dog I meet loves me - far more than I love them. I'm small, and most of the dogs I meet are big and want to lick my face. I probably smell of cat most of the time, perhaps that's it. Even supposedly well trained dogs, I'm always afraid they're going to push me over - something almost your weight flying at you, it's not too hard to imagine. The only dogs that didn't jump at me every time they saw me were my grandma's dogs. Oh, well, they did, actually, but only because I always gave them treats - and they were little tiny dogs, couldn't reach my waist if they jumped. And they pooped all over the place. Now that they're back in the shelter, though, it seems that's only because they weren't let out enough. That story is for another day, though.
Cause it's too much, yeah it's a lot, to be something I'm not...
I told him I don't like dogs. He told me that I just haven't found the right one yet. I guess believed him. Dogs are different, I know. I mean, cats are different, and there's not nearly as much variation in cats as there is in dogs. Temperament wise, maybe. But size, coloring, hair, breed, whatever else - dogs take the cake on that one.
I'm just a little girl lost in the moment, I'm so scared, but I don't show it...
He told me dogs cure loneliness. I didn't believe him. He told me I just needed to find the right dog. He was right.
It took a tired cocker spaniel and a good movie. Animals are like kids - it's always a compliment when they like you, because they have no reason to hide anything (and they usually have a better intuition about who they can trust than adults do). So I don't totally mind when hundred-pound labs jump in my face, I just don't enjoy it. However, when this little cocker climbed in my lap to take a nap, I just forgot everything.
I can't figure it out, it's bringing me down, I know, I've got to let it go... and just enjoy the show.
I forgot about the friends who may or may not still be friends. I forgot about the little gestures I usually overthink, overexamine, overworry. I forgot about not having a decently-paying job. I forgot about the thesis I'm supposed to be researching, the internship I'm supposed to be working on. With this gorgeous creature picking me out of everyone in the room, me over the actual dog lovers, looking me in the eye and then falling asleep across my stomach... I even forgot the pain of losing my grandma. I just relaxed and enjoyed the show.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Three things I know to be true
1. There are no bad people, only hurting people.
2. There is nothing quite like the feel of a rain dripping down your face.
3. I'm going to save the world someday.
I cannot prove these things to you but I know - I know that even sociopaths start their lives as innocent babies, and that, more often than not, those are the babies whose parents don't love them the way they should. Those are the babies who start off their lives thinking nobody loves them and I know that we all need to be loved.
People have hurt me, but I don't blame them, because I know, I know too well, that when I am hurting, I hurt people. When I feel like nobody loves me, I lash out, and it is no surprise to me that everyone else does the same. But for now, for now I know I am loved.
Love isn't all we need, though. We need food, we need shelter, we need to be safe. If we don't have these things, we are scared, and we will do what we can to get them, or at least to avenge the loss of our safety. I watched a man try to convince an audience to have empathy, even for the people we hate the most. We don't need to be okay with what they do, but they have their motivations just as we have ours. And I know that I am trying, wishing that I could understand those people... the ones who have done the worst by me and the people I love.
It's been raining in Seattle, and nobody likes it. Oh, but I lie to say nobody, because I, though it hinders my paddleboarding and my internshipping, I love it. I love the rain, I know I'm crazy but aren't we all? I love the rain, but I wish you were here to love it with me. I wish I could pull on my fleece jacket and rainboots and drag you out to run and dance and laugh, mostly laugh, because when I'm out in the rain and jumping in puddles and licking the sweet skywater off my lips, that's what I do. If you don't like this rain, maybe you shouldn't be here - there are no clouds in California, and I know that's what I miss the most when I'm there.
I don't know why I believe that I'm going to save the world. I feel so helpless, so small when the problems are all so big. But everyone who's ever known me has high hopes for me, everyone who knows what I want to do with my life tells me that I will go far, and, helpless as I often feel, I believe them. I believe them because once in junior high, as everyone wrote their heartfelt "miss yous" and hardly-felt missives in everyone else's yearbooks, someone wrote in mine: "You're going to save the world someday, I just know it". I haven't spoken to her since high school or earlier, I don't know where she is now and I doubt I ever will, but if I could thank her for the confidence that note has given me, I would, because, for all 6 years of yearbooks from that school, and even some from elementary school, that's the only thing anyone ever wrote that I still remember, and I know that doesn't bother me in the least.
Maybe I'll be a great leader and make great changes, maybe I'll design some great sustainable thing, maybe I'll just love someone and tell them they're worth it and that will give them the boost they need to go on in live and change everything, but I think my contribution will be great and small - lots of little interactions, lots of little contributions, and lots of little moments that lead someone else to do their little bit. That's how I've always done things, see - when I was fundraising, I didn't ask for a hundred dollars, fifty or even twenty, I asked for two, because even then I knew that two dollars from everyone is better than a lot of money from just a few, if only because then more than just the richest can own the project - everyone can play a part.
No one person needs to change the world to save it, and no one action will save the world. I believe that I am going to save the world because, for all I know, everything I do now could be what does it, and if that's my life goal, and I often tell people that it is, I will save the world - as long as I'm willing to contribute more than just my two cents when the chance comes along, and instead put in my full two dollars and inspire others to do the same, all those dollars will add up to something great. And for all my uncertainty, all my feeling helpless, I know that I can always spend a little time working to make this world a better place, and myself a better person in it. For all you may be hurting, I know that you can too, and I know that I will be right here, trying to love you every step of the way.
2. There is nothing quite like the feel of a rain dripping down your face.
3. I'm going to save the world someday.
I cannot prove these things to you but I know - I know that even sociopaths start their lives as innocent babies, and that, more often than not, those are the babies whose parents don't love them the way they should. Those are the babies who start off their lives thinking nobody loves them and I know that we all need to be loved.
People have hurt me, but I don't blame them, because I know, I know too well, that when I am hurting, I hurt people. When I feel like nobody loves me, I lash out, and it is no surprise to me that everyone else does the same. But for now, for now I know I am loved.
Love isn't all we need, though. We need food, we need shelter, we need to be safe. If we don't have these things, we are scared, and we will do what we can to get them, or at least to avenge the loss of our safety. I watched a man try to convince an audience to have empathy, even for the people we hate the most. We don't need to be okay with what they do, but they have their motivations just as we have ours. And I know that I am trying, wishing that I could understand those people... the ones who have done the worst by me and the people I love.
It's been raining in Seattle, and nobody likes it. Oh, but I lie to say nobody, because I, though it hinders my paddleboarding and my internshipping, I love it. I love the rain, I know I'm crazy but aren't we all? I love the rain, but I wish you were here to love it with me. I wish I could pull on my fleece jacket and rainboots and drag you out to run and dance and laugh, mostly laugh, because when I'm out in the rain and jumping in puddles and licking the sweet skywater off my lips, that's what I do. If you don't like this rain, maybe you shouldn't be here - there are no clouds in California, and I know that's what I miss the most when I'm there.
I don't know why I believe that I'm going to save the world. I feel so helpless, so small when the problems are all so big. But everyone who's ever known me has high hopes for me, everyone who knows what I want to do with my life tells me that I will go far, and, helpless as I often feel, I believe them. I believe them because once in junior high, as everyone wrote their heartfelt "miss yous" and hardly-felt missives in everyone else's yearbooks, someone wrote in mine: "You're going to save the world someday, I just know it". I haven't spoken to her since high school or earlier, I don't know where she is now and I doubt I ever will, but if I could thank her for the confidence that note has given me, I would, because, for all 6 years of yearbooks from that school, and even some from elementary school, that's the only thing anyone ever wrote that I still remember, and I know that doesn't bother me in the least.
Maybe I'll be a great leader and make great changes, maybe I'll design some great sustainable thing, maybe I'll just love someone and tell them they're worth it and that will give them the boost they need to go on in live and change everything, but I think my contribution will be great and small - lots of little interactions, lots of little contributions, and lots of little moments that lead someone else to do their little bit. That's how I've always done things, see - when I was fundraising, I didn't ask for a hundred dollars, fifty or even twenty, I asked for two, because even then I knew that two dollars from everyone is better than a lot of money from just a few, if only because then more than just the richest can own the project - everyone can play a part.
No one person needs to change the world to save it, and no one action will save the world. I believe that I am going to save the world because, for all I know, everything I do now could be what does it, and if that's my life goal, and I often tell people that it is, I will save the world - as long as I'm willing to contribute more than just my two cents when the chance comes along, and instead put in my full two dollars and inspire others to do the same, all those dollars will add up to something great. And for all my uncertainty, all my feeling helpless, I know that I can always spend a little time working to make this world a better place, and myself a better person in it. For all you may be hurting, I know that you can too, and I know that I will be right here, trying to love you every step of the way.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Gourmet cooking can't be *that* hard... can it?
I mean, all you have to do is follow the directions.
Have all the right ingredients.
Have all the right equipment.
Have a clue what you're doing.
And all that means is following the directions, I think.
I'd love to be able to cook well, to cook food like you could get at a restaurant. I do need to clarify that first statement, since I have no doubt in my ability to cook food that people like, which, ultimately, means I can cook well. But at the moment, my collection of recipes is small and nothing particularly fancy. I've got a mac and cheese, a couple pasta dishes, banana bread and some breakfasty-things. I still swear up and down that I make the best cinnamon toast ever, though I haven't really had any other variations. (Easy too - remind me sometime and I'll make it for you. Now I'm hungry.)
Oh, and cheesecake, I guess. I do make a killer cheesecake. I guess that counts as fancy... and I've never had a better cheesecake at a restaurant than the cheesecake made by me and my dad. Believe me, I've tried. (Surprisingly, Scripps dining hall cheesecake came close once, as did a cheesecake bought at Vons for my birthday by my awesome roommate... who may or may not have known I have a birthday cheesecake tradition.)
That said, I'm still itching to expand, especially to dinners and breads. My panini habit means that I could probably shave off a quarter of my food budget by baking my own bread (or not eating paninis, but that's boring). I'm doing okay with that one... my sights are set fairly low - making a good sandwich bread actually isn't difficult, if you find the right recipe - but I'm looking forward to experimenting more over the next couple of months. Maybe try... spinach, bacon and cheese bread. Thanks Reddit for that one.
Dinners are trickier though. I'd love to have a couple meals that I can make which make going out to eat less worth it - I mean, not having to cook or clean is nice, but when I go out to eat in college, I appreciate it more for the amazing food (Aruffo's Italian is far better than even Pitzer's dining hall has to offer, but it costs far more too...). I'd love to be able to master an alfredo sauce, something college has somehow taught me to love. Okay, I realize I'm a bit Italian, but honestly, many of the pasta dishes I've had at various restaurants in the past leave me drooling just to remember them. If I could make food that good at home...
My main food goal for the summer is to recreate a certain soup, however. I went to Aruffo's twice last year, and both times, the soup of the day was a salmon and crab bisque. Now, I've never been a soup person, but I love salmon and I like crab in small quantities. So I got the soup, and the soup was amazing. Unfortunately, there seem to be no recipes on the internet for salmon and crab bisque, so the question of the day is - do I make a crab bisque and a salmon bisque and then try to combine them... or do I just find a few recipes for salmon or crab bisque and mash them all together?
Updates on that when it happens. Whatever happens, it should be delicious...
Have all the right ingredients.
Have all the right equipment.
Have a clue what you're doing.
And all that means is following the directions, I think.
I'd love to be able to cook well, to cook food like you could get at a restaurant. I do need to clarify that first statement, since I have no doubt in my ability to cook food that people like, which, ultimately, means I can cook well. But at the moment, my collection of recipes is small and nothing particularly fancy. I've got a mac and cheese, a couple pasta dishes, banana bread and some breakfasty-things. I still swear up and down that I make the best cinnamon toast ever, though I haven't really had any other variations. (Easy too - remind me sometime and I'll make it for you. Now I'm hungry.)
Oh, and cheesecake, I guess. I do make a killer cheesecake. I guess that counts as fancy... and I've never had a better cheesecake at a restaurant than the cheesecake made by me and my dad. Believe me, I've tried. (Surprisingly, Scripps dining hall cheesecake came close once, as did a cheesecake bought at Vons for my birthday by my awesome roommate... who may or may not have known I have a birthday cheesecake tradition.)
That said, I'm still itching to expand, especially to dinners and breads. My panini habit means that I could probably shave off a quarter of my food budget by baking my own bread (or not eating paninis, but that's boring). I'm doing okay with that one... my sights are set fairly low - making a good sandwich bread actually isn't difficult, if you find the right recipe - but I'm looking forward to experimenting more over the next couple of months. Maybe try... spinach, bacon and cheese bread. Thanks Reddit for that one.
Dinners are trickier though. I'd love to have a couple meals that I can make which make going out to eat less worth it - I mean, not having to cook or clean is nice, but when I go out to eat in college, I appreciate it more for the amazing food (Aruffo's Italian is far better than even Pitzer's dining hall has to offer, but it costs far more too...). I'd love to be able to master an alfredo sauce, something college has somehow taught me to love. Okay, I realize I'm a bit Italian, but honestly, many of the pasta dishes I've had at various restaurants in the past leave me drooling just to remember them. If I could make food that good at home...
My main food goal for the summer is to recreate a certain soup, however. I went to Aruffo's twice last year, and both times, the soup of the day was a salmon and crab bisque. Now, I've never been a soup person, but I love salmon and I like crab in small quantities. So I got the soup, and the soup was amazing. Unfortunately, there seem to be no recipes on the internet for salmon and crab bisque, so the question of the day is - do I make a crab bisque and a salmon bisque and then try to combine them... or do I just find a few recipes for salmon or crab bisque and mash them all together?
Updates on that when it happens. Whatever happens, it should be delicious...
Monday, May 14, 2012
A Very Colorful Mother's Day
By some wonderful glitch, this year managed to be the first mother's day in two years that I was home for - the first which happened after finals week instead of before.
It also just happened that The Color Run was on Sunday, and, for some reason, I decided I really wanted to go. You know, because I just love running. As does my mom. Oh wait, that was sarcasm. But we went for it anyways. Our first 5k.
The morning after getting back from school, we got ourselves up at 6 in the morning (on a Sunday, no less!) and drove out to Seattle Center to... walk... a 5k. And get covered in colored corn starch.
Well, it turned out to be awesome. Way more fun than my mom expected. (Maybe even more fun than I expected, but I already know how much fun it is to be covered in colorful stuff, thank you battle tie dye...) Everyone was just super excited (lots of high fives all around as we passed people), and having a "reward" every kilometer broke things up nicely into manageable bits. Plus, everyone looked awesome.
The best part, however, was the color throw at the end. They gave every runner a packet of the colored corn starch, which we were told to save for the end. At the end of the race, they'd count down every 15 minutes to a color throw, where everyone (with a packet) would throw their color into the air. While you were under it, it resulted in being covered in dust and having trouble breathing and seeing. However, the view from above was spectacular, and pretty much made the whole thing even more worth it.
Oh, and one more thing? My mom is awesome. Awesome for trusting me that we'd enjoy this event, and awesome in general. That's all...
It also just happened that The Color Run was on Sunday, and, for some reason, I decided I really wanted to go. You know, because I just love running. As does my mom. Oh wait, that was sarcasm. But we went for it anyways. Our first 5k.
The morning after getting back from school, we got ourselves up at 6 in the morning (on a Sunday, no less!) and drove out to Seattle Center to... walk... a 5k. And get covered in colored corn starch.
Well, it turned out to be awesome. Way more fun than my mom expected. (Maybe even more fun than I expected, but I already know how much fun it is to be covered in colorful stuff, thank you battle tie dye...) Everyone was just super excited (lots of high fives all around as we passed people), and having a "reward" every kilometer broke things up nicely into manageable bits. Plus, everyone looked awesome.
The best part, however, was the color throw at the end. They gave every runner a packet of the colored corn starch, which we were told to save for the end. At the end of the race, they'd count down every 15 minutes to a color throw, where everyone (with a packet) would throw their color into the air. While you were under it, it resulted in being covered in dust and having trouble breathing and seeing. However, the view from above was spectacular, and pretty much made the whole thing even more worth it.
Oh, and one more thing? My mom is awesome. Awesome for trusting me that we'd enjoy this event, and awesome in general. That's all...
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