Very delicate surgery. Stay strong my ugly child!

My car went into the shop last Monday (from a wreck I had in August — not my fault) and will be ready today. That’s meant more downtime. No work,  no Crossfit, and no long errands. Just me bumming around campus.

Oh wait, I don’t bum around on campus. I’m a senior; I pop by campus for classes then hightail it out of there. So in the meantime, I’ve been cleaning my apartment, catching up on books and movies, studying, and — wtf — exercising.

Ever since I got back from Christmas vacation, I’ve had the strangest shift in perception. Things are so much clearer. I’ve been twenty times better since I went on Wellbutrin, but post holiday, I’m even happier.

Mimi History: I have despised cardio machines with a burning passion ever since freshman year of college. I guess it’s burnout, or my growing suspicion I’m a closeted ADD case. Music helps but I still don’t like it. I do love weights, but I also love being a lazy sod.

I’ll be blunt: it makes no sense, but when I was thinner, I had more motivation to maintain my physique (and improve it), because there was no vast journey ahead of me. Thus, getting back into a non-Crossfit workout routine has been haphazard. The best way for me to workout has been my Crossfit classes. However, I doubt I’ll be able to continue them when I first start working. That stuff’s expensive. So it’s been weighing on my mind.

But then I got Joker, my iPad. And suddenly cardio rocks! I can put my movies on it, including my musicals and Netflix. Suddenly, it’s my top stress buster.

Vastly more entertaining than football or Food Network (what's always playing on the gym TVs)

I actually look forward to heading down to the gym to do my workout. Still with weights, but the cardio is necessary since I can’t move around as much as I could when I was younger and had fewer obligations.

"And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy." Yup, always sounded about right to me for a long time.

But as much as I love Joker, I can’t attribute my sudden zest for ellipticals all to him.

On my way back to LA, I read Jillian Michael’s book, Unlimited. It was an unexpected Christmas present. Silly fate — finding stuff that seems to congeal everything that’s been running around my head.

Unlimited isn’t actually a weightloss book. It’s more about psychology. I don’t agree with Jillian on everything fitness and nutrition related, however, I’ve always felt a kinship with her. We were both fat kids, and both stumbled into hobbies that improved our self esteem. Mine was equestrian, hers was martial arts. I’ve spoken with Jillian a couple times before, and she’s just as passionate as she seems on TV.

Anyhow, reading Unlimited, it was like a gong rattled in my head. One of those “Ding fucking DING” moments. Thoughts that were murmurings in my mind suddenly came into resounding focus.

A few points Unlimited makes:

• Forgive — not for the good of the other person, but you
• Shame is useless and stupid
• Affirmations and gratitude are freakin’ powerful

I’m a very forgiving person. Long-term hate just doesn’t stick on me. It’s too time consuming and too pointless. Except for a strange event a few months ago.

Stopping by Starbucks, I stood in line for my drink. Then I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. It was one of my old roommates — from that traumatizing situation last year. My reaction surprised me.

Right down to the pointy ears.

I was seething. If she’d noticed me, my eyes might have shot blood at her.

That kind of reaction threw me because it’s one I just don’t have, not that long after something’s happened. My temper flares easily but it’s the flash-in-the-pan spark that recedes quickly.

After awhile I forgot about it, figuring there are some people you just stay pissed off at. Then I read Unlimited. It made me think back to people I couldn’t forgive.

I believe it’s very true that your interactions are a reflection of your inner conflicts. So when you flip a mirror around…

As silly as it sounds, I never forgave myself. When my life got bumpy — when the roommate thing happened, when my boyfriend and I broke up, and when I started sinking again into a depression — I was furious with myself for being so weak. Cue emotional eating, cue increasingly erratic behavior.

When I got to London I thought I’d magically feel better. But knowing I’d given up what I really wanted (New Zealand) for something more practical and sensible hit me way harder than it should have. Poor London, please don’t think I hated you. But cue emotional eating. Cue hating myself for gaining weight and cue again emotional eating to deal with my unhappiness.

My depression lifting was a wonderful weight leaving my shoulders. But as I’ve said before, antidepressants aren’t “happy pills.” They putter around in your neurological system and rattle things around. This ended my feeling of futility and my incessant apathetic grayness. It short-circuited my OCDness too. Yet Wellbutrin, as helpful as it is for me, is not a panancea, and nor did I ever see at as such.

I’ve been a lot happier these past few months. Yet there was still that insidious, festering anger at myself. The body responds well to acute stress, like sprinting. A short rush of self-anger can be effective: “Oh my God I can’t believe I forgot my friend’s birthday! Time to make amends!” That’s good. But lingering rage is useless. Even in biology, chronic stress leads to inflammation and a repressed immune system.

Watch Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street if you need a real-world example of why forgiveness can save you a lot of sanity.

So ends the last of my increasingly melodramatic postings on my headgames and hamster wheels. I was so very silly.

Looking back and wishing things were different is silly too. It could turn you into a pillar of salt!

When I got back to LA after Christmas, I puttered down to the gym with my iPad and had an awesome time just chilling out and watching Sherlock. I was working hard but it wasn’t a toil. I felt so friggin good afterward. Both physically and mentally.

I love Crossfit because it gives me more confidence in my physical abilities. Even if I’m not the fastest or the strongest I can get it done. But doing something on my own, with no cheerleader or encouraging coach, is something different.

Feels slightly more likely within the next year (...or year and a half)

Of course, when I say you can’t look back at the past and wish things were different, there’s no reason to never look back at all. Your past is a web, not a line, at least in my eyes. Everything connects to something else. Events are strong because of everything else surrounding them.

Being confident in myself and taking things one day at a time is close to my mindset when I started college. I’d gone from a size 14 to a 10 over the summer. Easily. I ate less and did  the elliptical and weights a few days a week. In and out in an hour tops. The hardest thing was turning down a slice of pizza. So my confidence was a cannonball into the school year.

I didn’t give a fuck how much weight I had to lose. I knew I’d get it done. I took it one day at a time and remembered everything counted.

Toward the end of the school year I was burnt out and disordered. But I definitely didn’t start out that way. I pushed myself too hard, for too long, with no breaks or more than 5 hours of sleep a night. No wonder I wound up a headcase.

This time I’m smarter. I know the necessity of taking breaks and resting. I know everything counts, but that I can easily compensate or work in an indulgence. Yet an intelligent approach is only part of the equation. For me, the confidence and goals are what push me from smart planning into smart acting.

This summer I’m going to Rome and Naples. I am not going to look unhealthy and propagate the stereotype Americans are all fat and lazy. I’m graduating in May. I don’t want my college graduation photo to be as chunky as my high school one.

Yeah, not going there without a swimsuit I feel sexy in.

Another comment Jillian made in Unlimited was that one needs tangible, precise goals. On The Biggest Loser, she wails on people who say “I want to be healthy!” as for why they want to lose weight. It’s never the main reason (I’m  counting “not die” and “live to see my grandkids as separate entities).

Agreed, my dear. Of course I want to be healthy. But for me, the more tangible desire is wanting a tight butt for my jeans, sleek shoulders for my tank tops, and a flat stomach that I’m happy to flaunt in a bikini. Or, as Jillian has said in a podcast, “We all just want to get laid and have sex with the lights on.” True words, dear one.

I had a real knock on the noggin in German class. I wound up sitting next to this gorgeous Russian. He was quite friendly and amused I knew about those weird and awesome Russian monarchs. A year ago I’d have felt totally confident in asking if he wanted to get coffee (or vodka, since I’m culture-sensitive). Today, hell no. I don’t delude myself. I’m charming and kind and thus people like me, but right now I’m not my hottest.

I didn’t let it get me down though. It’s basic biology. And it’s just further impetus to get serious and stop dicking around. I’m in better shape and a few pounds lighter from Crossfit, but I have a long-ass way to go, and it’s not going to get any shorter by lazing around and not putting some effort in.

That doesn’t equal “lose weight as fast as humanely possible.” For one, I’d look weird, sick, and flabby. Two, I’d shoot myself in the foot. It does mean consistency and a lack of second-guessing and quibbling over semantics.

I’ve set myself up some rewards as my weight drops and my clothes loosen. Nothing fancy. New workout clothes, new nail polish, etc. Nothing food related obviously. Jesus, I hate it when people set up binge-worthy dinners to celebrate a weight loss.  Way to reinforce positive life changes.

The other thing I really took to heart in Unlimited was that affirmations are powerful. Make tangible goals, but also tell yourself your making positive changes now. Instead of thinking “Urgh I’m tired I hope I get through this workout,” think “Fuck yeah I’m going balls-to-the-walls because I’m a badass.” Or something of that nature.

Thoughts are very powerful. Using them properly can be very empowering.

I would add to that — thoughts of gratitude help a lot too. I have so much to be grateful for. I have friends and parents who love me. I’m accomplished. My classes rock. I have great hair. I have 24-hour access to a decent gym, meaning there’s no reason I can’t work out. I have an iPad so cardio is enjoyable. Just running through that list makes me happier. When I’m feeling good, I do good things.

Of course mental changes aren’t always immediate. They take work. When I think back to last year, I do get cranky. But it’s not the palpitating pissiness I’ve felt before. I sometimes do get frickin’ pissed at myself. Yet I’ve been able to gently deflect it. Fat is just stored energy, as Jillian put it. Shame over how I let myself go is pointless. It’s not like I got an STD after a crazy weekend in Cozumel. I’d be sheepish over that.

Fat loss takes commitment. There’s no getting around that. But while it’s a focus during my semester, I’m keeping occupied by other things. I’m learning how to get really good at painting my nails, something I’ve never done. I’m studying German fastidiously. I should probably be frantically looking for a job, but I’ve got a couple of months before things get serious.

And there’s no reason getting healthy and having fun should be mutually exclusive. Today, for example, Sophia and I went for a hike to the Griffith Observatory. She skipped and bounded, I slogged and huffed. Even though I’m in better shape than I was, I’m still working on cardiovascular endurance. And lugging myself up a steep hill gets tiresome. But so what? I had tons of fun just hanging out with my girlie. LA was beautiful this morning, swathed in fog and raindrops. There’s nothing wrong with being slightly uncomfortable. It’s the best way to challenge yourself.

Awesome weather! I'm not being sarcastic.

I never noticed it but Griffith Observatory looks like a fantasy book citadel.

Afterward we went to Costco, then to Bricks & Scones for scones and a study date. Usually I hate scones. Dry, crumbly, stuffy things. These were awesome! They were like muffinish biscuits. Lovely and doughy. Ok, so now I’ve tried a scone I like besides Sophia’s.

I drink too much coffee. Oh well, one thing at a time.

Last Monday, my friend Mere and I went to Cafe Gratitude. I love this place. They put so much love and care into the food. Our waitress was kind of pokey, but it was a gorgeous day and we had fun catching up.

"I Am Humble" -- brown rice and quinoa with curried lentils, yams, roasted veggies, tamarind sauce, and mint chutney. Nom.

Oh, and Jason Schwartzman was sitting behind us. Teehee. No, I would not have snapped that pic if he was facing us.

Most people are way meaner to themselves than anyone else, or in more pain or insecurity than they dish out. That includes bullies. I say most because we’ve all encountered a little sociopath on the playground. As for me, I’m harsher on myself than anyone else. There’s no gold medal for that though.

Anyhoodle, I’m moving forward from here on out. I’ve gotten what I’ve needed from the past. Now it’s time to create the future. Oh, and it’s now time to make the elliptical my bitch.

As I mentioned last year, my roommate gave me the most amazing idea: drop the minor I hated and take what I wanted. The class I was dying to take was German.

So far it’s wonderful. There’s a smexy Russian, some really talented voice majors, and a professor who’s tons of fun. I love languages but I was tired of French. Every class I’ve been to reminds me why I made the right choice — to do what I want as opposed to what I think I should do.

Ask a teenage girl why she wants to take a random class and the answer is stereotypically a boy. I am not a teenage girl. My far geekier answer is German musical theatre.

As much as I love a good musical, I dislike 85% of musicals. Most are too frothy and frivolous. If it weren’t for the hilarious Book of Mormon, I could honestly say I’ve disliked every non-revival Broadway musical since The Producers.

So what’s a picky theatre-lover to do? Head over to Europe. Germany and Austria produce a ton of gorgeous musicals. They have better lyrics, edgier plotting, and very original staging. And they do stuff that a lot of Broadway theaters wouldn’t touch due to the Equity hazard pay costs. Like stages that separate, rise up like the stern of a boat, twist like a demonic Tilt-a-Whirl, and allow all the actors to slide into a trap door. It’s badass.

Here is a send up to some of my favorites. They and my roommate are responsible for giving me a kick in the ass to follow my heart.

Those who are expecting something lifestyle related, just stop reading. This is pure Mimiservice.

My gateway drug was Tanz der Vampire.  ’Twas a dark and boring night when I was trawling the Phantom of the Opera forum, ranting about Emmy Rossum and cursing Joel Schumacher.

Then I saw it: a clip of a vampire musical. I clicked, intrigued. Then, “what the hell, it’s in German?!” Color me stupid, but it never really occurred to me there were original musicals in other languages. I just thought it was a British/American thing and other countries translated and performed them. But the music was epic even if I could not understand a word of it. After scrounging up a translated libretto I was even more smitten. After that, it was a trawl through forums to find bootlegs and cast recordings. This was in the early days of YouTube, so I had to rely on my guile and desperation. The rest is sweet procrastinator heaven.

Tanz der Vampire

Edward Cullen is not invited to this party.

Based on Roman Polanski’s vampire parody film, The Fearless Vampire Killers, Tanz is a mix of everything great in a musical — great songs, good story, fun characters, skilled dancing, comedy, romance,  drama, and an intriguing darkness.

An eccentric professor and his young assistant are traveling in Transylvania, on the professor’s academic quest to track down vampires. They come to a Jewish hamlet where the assistant falls for the innkeeper’s daughter, who wants a way out of her dead-end life. Meanwhile, a vampiric count offers just that and invites her to a ball at his castle. The professor and assistant give chase and end up becoming the count’s houseguests. Things get crazy from there.

This musical originally starred Steve Barton as the vampire Count von Krolock, who was the original London/Broadway Raoul in Phantom of the Opera. It was the performance of a lifetime. Steve’s dead now but dang, what a legacy:

(I’d track down one with subtitles, except it was written by Jim Steinman so the song’s actually “Total Eclipse of the Heart”)

Tanz rocks because it’s the perfect mix of darkness, drama, and comedy. The characters are striking, the mood is a roller-coaster, and the music swings between classical beauty and rock tunes.

Oh, Broadway fans might be thinking of failed musical called Dance of the Vampires. Ignore it. That was the abomination crafted by Broadway peeps and Michael Crawford, and was mangled beyond recognition from the original.

Elisabeth

I’m a history nerd. Elisabeth is a very historically accurate (for a musical) retelling of the life of Empress Sissi, the last legit Empress of Austria. Her hubby Franz Josef would go on to inadvertently start World War I. Sissi’s own haunted life was a virtual opera — she was gorgeous and athletic but very disordered, she helped ally Hungary with Austria but despised politics, and she was always losing her relatives (including her son).

In the musical, Death is personified as a handsome young man who falls in love with her. When she marries the Emperor, Death gets pissy and stays by her side, making mischief in the crumbling empire.

Elisabeth has it all: powerful characters, a riveting story, and some beautiful songs. It’s a love story, but a weird one. Despite the personification of Death, it’s actually a very skillful historical drama, and portrayed Sissi very fairly — both as the beautiful girl forced into a world she hated, and the selfish woman who pushed away all who loved her. It also looks quickly at Rudolf, her equally tragic son. In the musical he’s visited by Death and they agree Austria’s going to hell in a handbasket. Oh, and Death’s not trying to make out with Rudolf. It’s called “Kiss of Death” for a reason:

Jekyll & Hyde

Hyde's kind of a bastard.

Technically this is an American musical. Thing is, it sucked on Broadway (except for the lovely Robert Cuccioli). The original Houston production was fine but wow, Broadway. The music and story are melodramatic, but the craptastic lyrics and weird story changes were awful. When it went to Germany it got a facelift — Germany’s best lyricist improved the lyrics and tweaked the story so that it made sense and had real character arcs. And he upped the gore. The result is a bloody marvelous melodrama.

The story is well-known: a nice doctor tries to separate the good and evil in man. In this version, he’s engaged to a lord’s daughter and denied human testing for his experiment by her jealous suitor. He also meets a sassy call-girl who falls in love with him and gets caught up in his fate. Testing his formula on himself, he becomes Hyde, an avenging demon who slaughters the people who wronged Jekyll. It’s a really challenging, virtually double roll:

As Jekyll:

As Hyde:

And together! This song has caused some actors to need oxygen masks after…

Der Glockner von Notre Dame

Has anyone noticed Disney’s takeover of Broadway? The Lion King is amazing and Beauty and the Beast is pretty cool, but the rest suck. Hunchback of Notre Dame got a different treatment — it got exported to Germany. Disney execs were nervous about putting it on Broadway because of its relative unpopularity; parents tend to get cranky when a kid’s movie features a rape ditty sung by the villain. Anyhoodle, the Germans rocked it. The director made a few astute changes. Esmerelda stays dead (as in the novel); Phoebus gets man-whored up; and the silly gargoyles become aspects of Quasimodo’s conflicted mind. It was beautiful and striking. Disney didn’t flip a shit, as they’d agreed to the changes, but they are still gun-shy about bringing it to Broadway. Some day, perhaps.

Rebecca

Rebecca is my kind of romance novel. It’s creepy as hell — a mousy girl marries a much older man who’s haunted by the death of his first wife, Rebecca. The girl feels adrift on his beautiful estate and tormented by the housekeeper who served as Rebecca’s maid. Secrets come to light and things get twisted.

The musical was a great adaptation. They captured the best quality of the book — that the most prominent character in the story is dead the whole time. This one is coming to Broadway, hopefully in April.

Dracula

This is another musical that premiered on Broadway and bellyflopped. For good reason. Frank Wildhorn is a cool composer (if you don’t mind bombastic music), but he can’t find a good lyricist to save his life. His best musical was easily Scarlet Pimpernel because, guess what, he had a librettist with a brain in her head. Finally, Dracula found a home in Austria and Germany.

It’s a retelling of Dracula in the vein of Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula film. Dracula  is besotted by Mina; Mina struggles between her love for her husband and her passion for the Count. It’s definitely flawed — the story doesn’t really explain why Mina and Dracula fall in love, and transitions way too abruptly from Dracula wanting to be with Mina to him wanting to die. Coppola’s film had the backstory of Mina as Vlad Dracula’s reincarnated wife, but that’s never mentioned here. Still, despite this, it’s a gorgeous if melodramatic piece. That, and the Austrian production had every hot  German-singing musical theatre actor in it. Yum.

There are plenty of other musicals, but I don’t want to completely alienate all of my six readers.

Long story short, German musical theatre kicks ass. If you hate The King and I and think Broadway’s gone to hell, do yourself a favor and procure a copy of Elisabeth!

How was everyone’s Christmas/Hanukah/Yuletide/Solstice?

My winter holiday has been contradictory.

The Best Of List would go like this:

- My iPad. This thing is awesome. I named him Joker. His adoptive brothers are my laptop, Sherlock, and my iPod, Mephisto. Yes I name my electronics. I’ll be getting an iPhone in a few months and its name at the moment is reserved as Kefka. I love Apple…except their computers.

- My Merrell Barefoot shoes. I love running around barefoot but I’m too self-conscious right now to buy a pair of Vibrams. Merrells are great though.

"Are those rock climbing shoes?" my German prof asked.

- New haircut/highlights. I got my hair highlighted years ago but couldn’t see the highlights. Wha? No way I’m paying for something I can’t see. So I told my stylist, “No stripper highlights, but I want to see them.”

- New manicure obsession. Crackle nail polish. Addicted. Let’s move on.

Now I just need to figure out how to paint my own nails without looking like I had a seizure mid- brushstroke.

- Deep tissue massage. Oh, how I’ve missed you.

- Facial. Oh how I’ve needed you.

- Serendipity. I got locked out of my house one night. I didn’t have a key and my parents were at the Messiah. So I toddled down to my favorite coffee shop, Antidote, and reacquainted myself with their Cajeta latte. I also took the time to start studying German, to prepare for my class. I’m even more in love with this language than before!

- My sister. It’s so weird how she’s grown up. We must have watched 20 different horror movies. My favorite  was Tucker and Dale Versus Evil. SEE IT!

- Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. To quote my favorite policeman, Inspector Javert, “My heart is stone, and still it trembles!” I don’t cry at movies. This film had me and my sister sitting there with tears streaming down our faces. It was so good though, and based on a true story. SEE IT!

It may seem like my holiday has been full of jollies. It’s always nice to be home, but not all was merry. My grandmother was in the final stages of her life when I arrived home. The day before I left, she died.

I’m weird when it comes to death. When my dogs die I go into keening fits. When people die, I shrug and move on. Except one. I cried some when Heath Ledger died.

It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just death in and of itself doesn’t really bother me when it’s expected. When life’s run its course, it’s over. An atheist friend and I used to wonder why it is people flip out at the thought of oblivion. It’s nice to believe there’s something after death — heaven, reincarnation (my personal fav), or Valhalla. But one wouldn’t be aware of oblivion, so it’s kind of moot.

I understand why most people are sad, I just don’t get that way. Memories don’t make me mournful; they make me happy because they were of times before my grandmother had Alzheimer’s, back when she was a feisty lady.

You didn’t piss off Gaga or she’d smack you, call you a baby for crying over it, then finally apologize…maybe. But she was kind too. My grandparents’ house was my only place  of true calm during my parents’ divorce. It’s not anymore. For the last few years the house has reeked of decay.

I was trying to explain to my mom why I’m less grieved. She said it was because I was young and thus never really felt the closeness of death.

Heh. Wrong. Not that I’d tell her that.

In high school I was on a vacation at my stepdad’s mother’s farm in Pennsylvania. The neighbors had four-wheelers and took me and my sister out for a ride.

All was well, until we drove along an incline. Suddenly my four wheeler flipped and I rolled down the hill. I was aware the whole time — a branch whipping across my face, the vertigo of inversion, and the snap decision not to bail for fear the ATV would slam me down due to gravity. The worst was the very end. It landed on my head. I stared up at the handlebars, my neck yowling in pain, wondering why it wasn’t crushing my skull. Then I remembered I was wearing a helmet.

Kind of like that but more like a barrel roll...ok, more like rolling down a hill with an 800 pound ATV

As I scrambled to my feet, one girl I was with started screeching about my face. I seriously thought I’d ripped it in half; it was numb and my hand came back covered in blood. In reality, it was just my nose that was gushing.

We told my parents I’d bailed just as it flipped and I’d faceplanted into the ground. I was sore for weeks — I’d gotten a black eye, a broken nose, and was hobbling like an arthritic hound dog. Technically, my nose was just messed up, then my sister fully broke it when we got into a bitch fight the day after. C’est la vie. 

I was reading A Farewell to Arms while recuperating. I’m pretty sure my physical discomfort played a part in my loathing of that book. Or maybe it’s just Hemingway.

I’m pretty sure my parents eventually figured out the truth of it. But I don’t think they ever realized I was several inches of plastic away from snapping my neck.

I was thinking back to that day a lot over Christmas break. And thinking of some of my best memories of her.

Gaga liked to pull together a big shebang for Easter. When I was a tot, Easter was just as cool as Christmas and Halloween because of egg hunts and baskets overflowing with gifts and candy. We’d go to church as a family, come back to her house and have lunch, and spend the day enjoying company.

Her backyard was awesome. My cousin and I would swordfight. I’d accidentally hit his knuckles and he’d cry, so I’d call him a pansy. She would coddle him, send him off back to the house, then roll her eyes at me and say he was a big crybaby. My cos is a quarterback now so I like to think I toughened him up.

She wasn’t big on baking if it wasn’t a mix. But we did make meatloaf together. She was a good cook but she was never above popping in fish sticks. My grandfather’s specialty was cream of wheat — he and I would eat it but Gaga would grimace. I think she was lactose intolerant.

My grandma wasn’t perfect. She never believed me when I said “That sucks!” meant something other than fellatio. She wasn’t one for cuddly grandma-isms. She did like to make people breakfast in bed…but mostly because she hated anyone moseying around in her kitchen in the morning. Beyond everything else, she was the boss.

There is a lot of family carnage surrounding her sickness and passing, stuff I won’t go into. It’s stuff I don’t entangle myself in anyway.

I consider myself quite grown out of my emo stage. Still, death was on my mind a lot as I headed back to school. Like I said, natural death doesn’t really bother me. But at the same time, I can’t help but think of a line from Game of Thrones:

“What do we say to the god of death? Not today.“ 

Some day in the future I’ll kick the bucket. Hopefully while defending a litter of German shepherds from a bear or leading the resistance during an alien invasion.

Until then, I have things to learn, adventures to have, and video games to play. I still need to get famous and do something cool. And oh, it seems Shakespeare agrees with me:

“Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.”

So as I go into my final semester of college, I’m grateful. I know tons of wonderful people. I have a trip to Rome and Naples this summer. I have the exciting adventure of a job hunt. There’s a vast span of opportunity in front of me and the only enemy is my motivation.

Not today.

Getting back to the goods, the winner is…

Hannah @ I Read It In a Book Somewhere! Woo!

Hannah, please shoot me an email so I can send you your stuff! mimi[dot]honeycutt[at]gmail.com (trying to avoid spambots, sorry)

As for me, I’m back home, relaxing, making cookies, celebrating that I passed Law of Mass Communications, and catching up on Assassin’s Creed: Revelations.

I want to see Constantinople now!

Also getting my mom caught up on season 4 of Mad Men (and swooning over Don Draper). I’m seeing The Nutcracker soon with my dad. I’ve wanted to see a live ballet ever since Black Swan.

Will The Nutcracker have any of this?

I’m also finally getting around to reading Scott Bakker’s Prince of Nothing.

If you need a film that encapsulates Christmas, comedy, and the power of friendship, check out A Very Harold and Kumar Christmas. It’s popcorn-choking funny. And a few movies I’m dying to see:

• Hugo
• The Adventures of Tintin
• War Horse
• The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
• Carnage

Happy holidays everyone!

As graduation looms closer I feel a frission of anxiousness. Not anxiety per se as I would not say I’m worried, but a wary look at the uncertainty. An uncertain future isn’t bad. Schrödinger’s Cat shows that, in an uncertain reality, the cat can be alive and dead. You’ll never know until you look so until then it’s both. But the future does make me wonder.

Publicity. Journalism. Los Angeles. Texas. A million possibilities or one.

It’s not a bad feeling. There’s uncertainty when you wonder if a zombie’s lurking outside your door, but there’s also delicious uncertainty when you’re dressing up for a hot date and you don’t really know the guy.

Right now I have a date of my own: Italy!

I iz psyched.

For years my father and I planned to take a vacation to Ireland right after graduation. It’s our ancestral home. But I’ve wanted to see Italy since forever. It was my #1 destination of choice when I was in London and, as the cards fell, it didn’t work out.

My dad and I talked it out. I knew he preferred Ireland even though he loves Italy. So I was thinking about going to Ireland anyway and told him such. First, my step-mom called me out — “Why would you want to go to Ireland over Italy?” I hemhawed. But then on the phone with my dad, he suddenly said, “Hey, I can tell from your voice. You want Italy. And that’s great! I love Rome!” 

I don’t know why it’s still hard for me to choose what I want over what I think I should want or what I should do. I got that lesson hammered into me with London. Old habits die hard?

It’s refreshing to act on want and not duty. Immanuel Kant’s cool but he’s not always my homie.

So, late May, I’m heading to Rome and Naples! Hopefully I’ll get to climb Mt. Vesuvius on horseback.

It’s nice to have something to look forward to. I’m in a much better place than I have been in the past year.

Because I’ve gotten a few comments about it, I wanted to talk a little bit about Paleo. I don’t want people to think I’m grabbing throats and shoving it down, or championing it as the scion of a healthier future.

"Grain eaters better GTFO!"

I will say right here I don’t think there’s a definitive right way to eat because everyone’s different and everyone is at a different place in his or her life.

All I ever mean by posts mentioning Paleo is n = 1. A Paleoish approach works for me in terms of keeping me satisfied and feeling good. I don’t get as many random cravings and I have good energy levels.

That said, Paleo-ishis the key term. Even if I eat more meat and veggies than beans and quinoa it doesn’t mean I consider them “bad.” To label food bad is ridiculous because food is inanimate. If I even say “bad food,” chances are it’s spoiled and I’m referring to the bacteria growing on it, or it’s made my palate cringe. Ok, trans fats are pretty bad. That’s my line in the sand.

Haters gonna hate

Ultimately, I’m curious. I like to try new things and experiment. I used to experiment with vegan and vegetarian eating. I love the nut pates, desserts, and artistic salads, but I wasn’t as keen on the energy drops and some of the ethical argument. Paleo was something else I have fun playing with. I like the animals, satiating fats, and food quality, but I’m not as keen on the black and white dogma  I see in some places.

Extremes are bad; extreme regulation is just as uncontrolled as extreme excess. Of course I come back to this because it is something I struggle with. I’m an all-or-nothing person by nature. It’s fine in my professional life — it gives me passion and drive. I get shit done and rarely make stupid mistakes.

It’s a problem everywhere else. So slowly I’m learning to rein in that side of me. Not always easy when my OCD kicks in (ahem, Elder Srolls: Skyrim) but I’m learning.

These days, I don’t think about food very much, which was often a problem for me. Sure I enjoy the stuff I eat and I find cooking immensely calming, but most of the time I’m thinking about other things. Right now my chief food thoughts are how awesome Italy is going to taste. I hear those Neapolitans knew how to toss a pizza.

That’s one reason I haven’t posted as much. I started this blog as a food blog but I tend to be more interested these days in film and television. Playing around with Paleo stuff is about as adventurous food-wise as I get and thus has probably popped up in a way that implies disproportionately what’s going on in my life.

That said, I am heading home in a few days. I always love thinking of fun meals for my parents so I’ll probably be posting a few new creations.

Speaking of holidays, what’s on everyone’s Christmas list?

I know some people put abstract things on their Christmas lists, like world peace and family. Eh, I’m selfish and pragmatic — family is a given for me on Christmas, and you can’t gift-wrap world peace.

-snerk- That bear is so going up in flames.

It’s funny; there are a lot of rumors about the Christmases for children with divorced parents (zomg two Christmases!). But no one really talks about the football-like logistics of coordinating where I am at what part of the holidays. Luckily that’s a few years behind me but there still is some finagling with schedules. I love seeing both of my parents though; that’s well-worth some micromanaging.

So here’s my Christmas shortlist:

• iPad – I feel so out of the loop not having a smartphone. I’m getting an iPhone in March but I have my eye on an iPad too.
• Merrell Barefoot Shoes – I love Vibrams but I don’t love froggy feet. These seem like a good compromise.
• The Last Werewolf – a book I’ve wanted for awhile, by Glen Duncan, the awesome author of I, Lucifer.
• Immersion Blender – I have undying envy of Sophia’s. Sometimes I just don’t want to power up the Vita Mix.
• Tigana – another book I’ve wanted for awhile, by the lovely Guy Gavriel Kay.

But when I’m not being a materialistic hussy, I am grateful for more than books and gadgets. I’m ready for a break where I can read some good books, work on a few short stories, and catch up on TV shows. It’ll be nice not to drive for a month (the car stays in LA, score!). And I have really awesome parents. I can’t wait to see them.

And since I am all into TV and film these days, here are a few Christmas films you should really check out:

Christmas is not complete without this gem.

• A Christmas Story
• Gremlins 
• The Nightmare Before Christmas
• Home Alone
• Tokyo Godfathers

Peacing out to study for Law of Mass Communications, the final act of my Fall 2010 semester.

Godiva Chocolatier was one of the top sponsors of this year’s FoodBuzz. They have a pretty solid name as chocolate people but have been slowly drawing more attention to their coffee line. They specialize in flavored coffees like chocolate and hazelnut. They also have seasonal flavors like pumpkin spice.

I am not a coffee snob — I love a good flavored coffee. Godiva makes some nice ones; I’m especially partial to the Chocolate and Pecan Caramel flavors. So, it was cool getting to sample their different flavors and chat with their peeps.

But ‘Tis the Season, right? I got some nice swag, so I want to share! Here is what you can get!

A Godiva apron. I don’t use aprons myself but some people love them. So cheers! Feel free to regift it if there’s someone who needs a gift and you don’t want to spend money.

A sampler of Godiva coffee flavors. Breakfast Blend, Vanilla, Hazelnut, and Pumpkin Spice.

Coupons! If you like any of the flavors, go forth and get the full-sized version. I’m including a few $2-off coupons.

Yup, not a fancy giveaway. I don’t have the blogger clout to hail down a case of Chobani. Still, for those who like their caffeine, good luck.

To Enter

- Move to the U.S. if you aren’t here already

- Leave a comment on my blog, and answer the question: What’s your favorite kind of coffee? Or - Ever “guilty” of regifting?

Extra Entries

- Follow me on Twitter (mmhoneycutt)

- Tweet this giveaway with a link-back

- Mention the giveaway in a blog post

Each extra counts as one, one point per comment. The winner will be drawn randomly.

Deadline: Sunday @ midnight

I love this city so much.

Hello dear ones!

Sunday before last I hauled my huge-ass carryon back into my apartment, refrigerated my cheese sticks, and commenced with a plan of action for the swag bag box of Duncan Hines cake mix.

But first, a thought experiment.

When a TSA guy looks at your carryon as it slides through security and his first question is “an egg beater?” how do you avoid certain confiscation?

You pull a Monty Python and ask a question.

“How long can eggs safely be kept after their sell-by date?” I said with a disarming smile.

Charmed and curious, my TSA darling asks how many.

“Five!”

This was in fact the answer I gave to win the damn thing in the first place. Thanks OXO!  Amused, he lets it go. He also forgot about the bottle of sleepy water I had in my bag. ‘Twas a sample of some melatonin and GABA-spike beverage from LAX.

Pardonnez-moi the in medias res. This past weekend I flew up for FoodBuzz Fest. After a ton of great memories, awesome food, and rampant overindulgence, I am sad to leave San Francisco but happy to be inspired again to breathe some life into this blog.

Recaps have been covered by many lovely peeps. However, I shall provide a few highlights.

Friday: Leaving on a Late Plane

11:45 am: Discover my plane is delayed one hour. This is as long as the actual flight.

12:30 pm: While chatting with a charming New Zealand guy, I run into a fellow chica attending FB, Jessie @ Jessie Bea Eats. Wooo! Friends!

4:45 pm: Land in San Fransisco. Groan about possibly missing the shuttle to the opening dinner. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Jessie and I tag-teamed and grabbed a taxi to our hotels. Thanks to our lovely cabbie we arrived on time for the shuttle to the Terra Gallery. I was in Hawk-Eye mode for him taking winding routes through downtown SF, but he actually took some crazy and quasi-legal shortcuts!

6pm: Sabra is seducing us with hummus. Cute waiters are tempting me with wine. Silly rabbits, wine is for classy people.

6:30pm: Run into Mama Pea @ Peas and Thank You. Flabbergasted she remembered me from last year.

6:31pm: Find it utterly hilarious Sabra is hosting the opening reception. Wondered if one of their new flavors would have nooch in it.

6:45pm: Meet a precocious young blogger, Kelly @ Foodie Fiasco. Consider this my narrative attempt to plant seeds for further in the story.

6:50pm: Run into Andrea @ Andrea’s Wellness Notes and Andy @ Grateful Hubby, two peeps I was dying to see. Andrea is as gorgeous and classy as ever, and charming Andy never fails to make me laugh.

7pm: We are ushered into the dining area. It’s a combination of small plates and buffet action. And an open bar. Hell yeah!

7:01: Remember I am on Wellbutrin and should abstain from much alcohol.

7:02pm: Remember my psychiatrist said it’s fine to drink but just to stop before I get hammered.

7:05pm: Join up with Andrea and Andy in the pork belly line. This is amazing pork belly.

Nom nom on the pork belly

7:10pm: Find the scallops line rather long and remember I’m thirsty. Why hello there Bloom gin cocktail!

7:15pm: Wander back into the scallops line. Run into Lauren @ Whole Wheat or Bust. HAPPY DANCE!!! Andrea, Andy, and now Lauren — I’ve run into all my favorite peeps! Oh yeah, scallops were pretty good too.

Celery puree!

7:30pm: Wine is starting to taste good. The alcohol is working!

7:35pmissssh: Run into Ellie @ Fit For the Soul, my arranged roommate. Sophia paired us up as roomies but we’d never met in person. Glad to find out she’s a sweetheart! (and not a serial killer).

8:00pm: I am most definitely tipsy. Ergo I’m 20 kinds of cute and bounce from person I vaguely know to person I vaguely know. Wonder vaguely if I come across as a slobbering drunk.

8:15pm: Find an adorable bartender who makes me an all-fruit equivalent to a midori sour. LUFF!

8:20pm: Run back into Kelly and we really hit it off. Similar backstories and tastes in musical theatre. Albeit, Kelly is actually a trained singer and I am not.

8:30pm: Giggle way too much that half the bloggers to win blogger awards are not in attendance. Congrats Angela @ Oh She Glows!

8:35pm: Get the amusing idea to text Sophia pretending to be very drunk. Fake drunk texts ftw!

8:40pm: Get way happier than I should when Ellie (a linguist) said my voice sounded like a mix of Southern and British. That’s a description I can rock!

8:50pm: DESSERT FTW!

Macarons and Jello Shots!

Nutella Butter Cups!

9:30pm: Attempt to find restroom. Run into adorable catering guy who has no clue where the restroom is. Ah well, nothing like a little eye candy nightcap.

9:45pm: Realize halfway back to the hotel MAH SWEATER is gone! Some waitress had forcibly checked it out of my hands and I’d forgotten to pick it back up.

10:00pm: Sashay back to the hotel with Ellie. ‘Tis much fun and revelry. Tipsiness starts to fade. Oh well.

SATURDAY: Libations of Madness

Saturday I wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. As I rarely drink (too much $$$ and calories) I get buzzed very easily. Catch is I come down fast. I’ve gotten pretty drunk in my life (as random numbers in my phone have shown me) but I’ve never had a hangover. Worst case scenario: I wake up wanting to eat a few apples. Some people want toast, I want foliage.

Anon, breakfast! They had to coax us out of bed somehow, as this morning was panel. I cracked up when the schedule mentioned “light healthy breakfast” and the first thing I saw was muffins and scones. I tasted a little bit of everything.

Protein is apparently not invited to this party

Wait wait, n/m! This was actually a pretty nice little breakfast. Sayeth the girl who doesn't really eat breakfast anymore but oh well.

The panel had some amazing peeps, namely Jessica @ How Sweet It Is and Mama Pea. Last year I didn’t see any of the panels — my posse and I played hooky at the Ferry Building. The workshops today were cool though!

I marched up to Jessica and thanked her for her Butterball Cookie recipe . I made it for my mom and she proclaimed it the best cookies I’d ever made. In terms of pure Food Porn, Jessica’s blog is my favorite, so I was incredibly happy to meet her.

At the informational sessions I learned about improving photography with my point-and-shoot and the importance of social media. If any of you want to strangle me for my excessive tweeting, blame Irvin @ Eat the Love and Stella @ BraveTart.

The photography panel was neat too; my photography is terrible (as evidenced by this blog post and teased by Sophia [no offense taken I totally agree]) but it’s weird because my videography is not. I shoot damn fine video and my broadcast teacher has lambasted me for making my packages too cinematic. Where’s the disconnect?

Leave it to Greg @ Sippity Sup to point it out through his presentation. He stressed telling an entire story in a photo. Sounds like “well, duh,” but he described setting up a photo just as I would think about setting up a film shot. Totally different than how I usually view photography.  Chuck Lai @ Foodgawker and  Angi Chau @ Rice and Wheat had great tips too.

My blog has never really been a recipe blog but I might play with my camera more.

Post Panel…the Tasting Pavillion!

Oh what fools we gluttons be. I tasted delicacies like Australian lamb, fish croquettes, and biscotti that did not hurt my teeth. A few shout-outs:

Hottie Biscotti – for super tasty…biscotti

Alexia — try their sweet potato tots. Now.

Bellwether Farms — mega yummy sheep cheeses!

California Walnut Council — because their little bruschetta thing was yummers, and toasted walnuts taste heavenly this time of year

Estancia Beef — grass-fed beef at its best! They only used salt and it was divine

Sweet — swoon-worthy, portion-controlled creme brulee!

Wine Forest Wild Foods — wild foods like juniper and elderberry flower do not get enough credit anymore. They should.

Australian Lamb – lamb is the most underrated meat in the U.S. Plus, Australian lamb is grass-fed!

Yes I know I'm eating babies. I don't care.

I did a final lap around the Pavilion with Lauren, who was heading back early. We ended at the Bloom booth. Those dudes do some lovely gin — the bite is friendly rather than tongue-burning. So happy we got to meet up Lauren!

Also said goodbye to Andrea and Andy. Lovely as always to see you guys.

The kindly FoodBuzz peeps also returned my sweater to me. I was overjoyed. So overjoyed I walked back to my hotel, toting 50 pounds of swag. Annnnnd I got caught in the rain and somehow lost said sweater. WTF? I don’t lose things. I lose my way and get lost, but I don’t lose stuff.

Anyhoodle, the gala dinner!

Kelly & Ellie -- two peeps I'm so happy to have met, thanks to FoodBuzz.

Our special guest was Tyler Florence. He’s quite cute in real life. He also needs to add “food porn director” to his resume, as he performed a cooking demo of the most scandalously appetizing pork chop meal.

Yet our X-rated adventure turned out to be a striptease. After cooking up this amazing fare, we were served steak and roasted veggies instead of chops with cabbage and spaetzel. Still, good steak for a catering company. They weren’t very accommodating of the vegans though, less so than last year.

Glad to see FoodBuzz isn't racist with its appetizers.

Oh hai.

Beer goggles mode!

Please don't be well done please don't be well done....YAY NOT WELL DONE!

It was awesome just chatting with people, warmed by wine and good company. But soon enough we toddled back to hotel.

Sunday: Au Revoir, mes Aliments

Stepping out of our hotel to hail a cab, Ellie and I ran into two bloggers eating oatmeal at a cafe. This is where I commit an epic dumbass moment. I’m thinking these ladies look sooo familiar. Of course I smiled and pretended to know them, as something was telling me I’d seen them before.

Ellie yanked me from me dementia. Kath @ Kath Eats Real Food and her sister. DUUUH! I swear I don’t fully leave dreamland until I’ve had my coffee.

The farewell brunch was held at Perry’s, right by the Ferry Building. Ellie and I hung out mostly with Kelly and Megg @ Pop Artichoke. Godiva had an amazing Christmas twist on an Irish coffee — it had peppermint!

Mimosas -- what Sunday brunch simply cannot be without

Ellie had the awesome idea to head to Sur La Table in the Ferry Building. I grabbed Kelly and we trotted over. Then I realized neither of mes amies had been to the Ferry Building. That simply had to be amended. The Ferry Building is full of wonders like funky mushrooms, amazing coffee, and vegan donuts. I debated buying a donut pan at Sur La Table but deferred to cheapness.

Alas, twas soon time to go. Heading out, my eyes caught a familiar logo. Alfieri Farms!!!

Cue happy dance!

This farm has the best almond butter I have ever tasted. Ever. Kicks Barney’s, Maranatha’s, and Trader Joe’s collective asses. They used to come to my San Francisco University to sell their nuts and fruit. Amazing stuff. The lovely clerk let us sample some almond brittle.

Finally it was time to race like madmen back to the hotel to meet checkout time. Once checked out we chilled for our Shuttle, headed back to the airport, and parted ways.

It was a lovely weekend.

It also made me want to share the wealth. That’s the only hint I’m giving y’all. Bye bye birdies!

Life is kind of cray-cray right now. Midterms, internship, and the million other things I’m trying to do right now make things chaotic. What makes me happy, however, is that I haven’t had a single breakdown or flood of helpless tears. Instead, it’s been a pretty even push of get ‘er done. I’m tired and need to catch up on teh Zzz juice, but other than that I’m content.

Way different from how I was during my finals while in London. How I got so worked up for classes I didn’t care at all for was rather silly.

In short, the Wellbutrin is definitely working. I’m pissed that I refused to admit I needed it until the beginning of the school year. I wasted a lot of time boiling in my own misery. Yet I want to draw a distinct line here. The Wellbutrin is the instigator of my uptick, but it’s not a magic happy pill. I am still more than capable of self-doubt, sadness, or hesitation. Or, as when I saw an old enemy at Starbucks, blood-vessel-rupturing rage.

What is different is that I no longer feel as if everything is futile. Just that ray of hope, that brief swath through the dark, is what I needed to reassert myself. I’ve always been morbid and sardonic, but as a kiddo even if I felt life was a dark comedy, I never saw the future as foreboding or depressing. That outlook came unbidden; I didn’t even notice it creeping up.

I looked forward to things, like study abroad or, later, coming back from study abroad, not so much as an optimistic future but as a desperate escape from my current situation. The worst part was that this wasn’t me — it was no mordant philosophy or embittered realization. It was something I felt for no reason at all. As much as I tried to grasp why I felt so entrapped, I could come up with nothing. Call it a neurological imbalance, or a genetic crapshoot. I prefer to call it suckiness.

When I feel the future is futile, I fall apart — after all, if life is not an adventure or an infinite expanse of opportunity, what is the point of it all?

But as I’ve said, being satisfied and confident takes a lot more than a low-dose antidepressant. For that, I had to assemble a team. If I have actual “happy pills,” these would be the ones.

Caffeine

Caffeine and I have one of those relationships that looks torrid but is actually quite tender. My resistance to stimulants is crazy high, even when I’ve been off it for a long time. It never really makes me jittery. But it does give me a pleasantly charged “get shit done” attitude. My standard is two small cups in the morning, with cream, almond milk, and stevia. I also like taking a small EC stack before a hard workout. I’m positively spitting puppies and unicorns afterward.

Cold Showers

And I promptly lose all six of my readers. Don’t knock it. Cold showers are great for giving you a jolt and they make your skin look great. I don’t hop straight into a freezing torrent though, as I’m using an acne wash and I want to make sure my pores are open. So I start warm, get myself clean, then jack it up to cold. It’s a totally badass feeling to stand there with cold water coursing down your chest and just not giving a damn. Then as you hop out, instead of cringing in the cold air, you feel warm and tingly.

Selfish Rituals

You know that image of the Victorian lady sitting in front of her vanity, indolent and careless as she applies her beauty products? Probably the only way women survived all the suppression throughout the years. The Abrahamic religions were not good for feminine empowerment. Particularly where vanity is concerned. It gets a stigma, or is added to the image of someone who’s lazy and selfish. Vanity takes work. While it can go too far, bumping shoulders with avarice, I would say most people aren’t selfish enough. Mothers especially falls into this trap of caring for herself last, and being a cranky bitch by the time she gets there because she’s so exhausted taking care of everyone else. Remember airplane safety — your own oxygen mask first, then others. There is nothing wrong with putting time and effort into one’s appearance. It’s a mark of self-care and love.

We don’t need to all become Catherine Howards, but you get the drift.

My kindly mother got me a set of Origins skincare products. I’m also having fun with a book called Naturally Beautiful: Earth’s Secrets and Recipes for Skin, Body, and Spirit, which contains recipes for at-home beauty products. Yes, it is just as tree-huggery as it sounds. For me, it’s so calming at night to take 10 minutes to tone, moisturize, and get rid of eyeliner marks. Great way to wind down.

I’m usually laissez-faire toward natural products. But lately I’ve done more research into what the ingredients and standard products are and it kind of grosses me out. I don’t know if they are actually harmful or not. I just don’t like the thought of some of that stuff on my face.

Intermittent Fasting

Smoking gun here! I can feel the whiplash. But hold the horses. As I mentioned, Wellbutrin blunts my appetite. I have no desire to force food down my throat, so I wait until I’m hungry, which is usually later in the day. I have a few cups of coffee in the morning with splashes of grass-fed cream and almond or coconut milk. That gets me rocking and rolling and provided I’ve slept well, I’m a racehorse. Pair that with good hydration and there’s no stopping me.

Anyhoodle, I feel good for two reasons. One, I have heard that autophagy can give one an energy boost. But more so, it’s just invigorating to respect my appetite and not feel anxiety about food. Brad Pilon and Martin Berkhan really know their stuff.

Not to say all my cravings magically vanished. Habits are powerful. The only way to break them is to not do them. So sometimes I do have to say “Suck it up” if I’m getting stressed and my knee-jerk reaction involves Yogurtland. I keep sugar low besides fruit and eat pretty Paleoish, but that’s about as complicated as I make it. And if I genuinely want some froyo and it’s not out of stress or habit, then sure, I get some.

It was also nice to be ordered in to the doctor for a followup. My bloodwork came back way better than two months ago. No more liver hi-jinks, wildly fluctuating triglyceride levels, or sketchy platelet counts. Woot.

Video Games

Don't deny it, you want to play too.

I’m a geek and proud of it. Lately I’ve been hitting up Assassin’s Creed 2. Call it daily catharsis. Video games are probably why I never hauled off and bloodied some noses in my younger years. Anyhoodle, it finally hit me one reason I get that wonderful “calm but energized” feeling from my favorite video games. It’s rather like listening to Mozart, for those who believe it improves mathematical capacities. Essentially, the video games I like tend to mirror how I think best. I’m a fan of “main plotline, open-world” type games. There’s a main story, but there are side quests and things to go after when the main quest gets tiring. Assassin’s Creed 2 is a perfect example.

And it's purdy

For much of the game you play as an assassin on a rampage through Rennasaince Italy, uncovering a conspiracy and getting vengeance on the bastards who killed your family. This quest takes you through Florence, Venice, and beyond, and hooks up up with sexy characters like Leonardo da Vinci, Niccolo Machiavelli, and Catherine Sforza. Yet you can also peace out and work on restoring your family’s dilapidated villa and adjoining town. It’s awesome.

Trusting the Process

You know why I liked counting calories back in the day? It was no love of math. It was proof. Weight doesn’t fall off. It melts away millimeter by millimeter. It’s easy to not even notice it and it takes time. How do you know you’re on the right track? A scale is one way but scales are finicky and I’m too much of a pussy to weight myself regularly. Some people know exactly when they are in a deficit because their physical reactions are severe — hunger, paranoia, sleep disturbances, etc. I don’t seem to have them. Ergo, counting calories is a way of proof. Stay consistent and eventually you’ll get there. But that also means everything counts. Cookies and bites add up. Too many and the process is not being trusted. Granted, I know I’m in a deficit and don’t see the need to log things everyday. I spot check my calories once a week or so, just to be sure I’m not fooling myself. Even when eating less often it is easy to fool yourself — for example, a candy bowl at work. So it’s a system of checks. No need to meticulously keep track of every bite, but a weekly checkup keeps me calm, knowing that eventually I’ll be slim and hot again. It’s trusting the process. Which accompanies the eternally true adage “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Friends

Cheesy but true. I’ve been hanging out with friends more often and it’s good for me. I dunno if it’s the increased social interaction or the pot though . Considering the latter is part of the former, let’s call it a bit of both? I’m also psyched to be heading out to FoodBuzz this weekend! For those in attendance, see you soon!

I have a semester and a half left of college. I think is worthy of the classic Heathers line — ahem, the one about fornicating with a chainsaw.

And it kind of hit me. I’ve never really liked most of my classes at USC. I love USC itself and I love the community, but most of my actual classes have always bored me. I would much rather be at my internship. At University of San Francisco my freshman year I felt much more intellectually stimulated — I went to classes with a song in my heart and a skip to my step. Probably because of the small classes and the deliciously eccentric professors.

And skipping up Lone Mountain is no flighty whim

But that’s not to say I regret transferring. It just made me realize I was looking at this all wrong. I took up a minor that sounded interesting only to find it a worthless string of pop culture classes. Communication in the Entertainment Industry. Fun, no? Not when you know everything they discuss and it just takes time away from more stimulating activities.

Even the rampant sexism and borderline spouse abuse of The Honeymooners fails to move me.

The other day I was faffing about in my room, singing in German. Yes, I sing in German. No, I haven’t studied the language. I always wanted to but it never fit my schedule. However, I love German musical theatre. Tanz der Vampire, Elisabeth, Mozart…the list goes on. I know the German contained in the songs and I’ve been told my pronunciation’s pretty spot on, but if I listen to material I don’t know the context of, I understand maybe one word in five.

Elisabeth > 90% past and current Broadway

German is a gorgeous language — don’t judge it by Hitler speeches on the History Channel. Seriously, just check out this ditty:

So back in my room I’m gushing about my linguistic lust, my hatred for my minor, and my disillusionment with class. My roommate, a wise girl, answered back.

“You can always just drop the minor and take German.”

WTF?! I have a semester left! Heck no I’m not wasting all the credits I spent to come so close to getting the bloody thing.

“Yeah, a semester,” my roomie chided. “You can totally take German 101. Why stick with something you hate?”

Ich bin überrascht. I could drop it. Not throw in the towel, but cut my losses and do something I want for a change, instead of something I feel I have to do.

It’s also hard for me to just stop something. I bite down like a pitbull until something breaks my teeth. To give up because I’m in over my head is one thing. To end something just because I don’t want to do it anymore is entirely another. And for me, completely unnatural.

With an independent, devil may care joy I hadn’t felt in years, I strode forth to meet my destiny. A.k.a I called my dad and ran it by him. Turns out he’d dropped political science in college and agreed I should do what I want.

What I want.

That’s hard for me. I’m so use to doing what I should do that sometimes I have no clue what I really want to do. I feel pulls toward certain things — namely writing and storytelling. But when I think about what I want, I don’t see a road. I see a hazy object on the other side of an untouched valley. That thing involves writing. It involves the entertainment industry. But beyond that I haven’t got a clue. Maybe that’s ok. Effective war machines don’t plan things out like clockwork; they put themselves in positions where they can easily react and advance.

Yeah, somewhere past the Christmas ornament castles

Life’s an adventure so it doesn’t bother me. But sometimes I wish I knew what I wanted before I let slip away, like New Zealand. As they say, good judgement comes from experience, but most experience comes from bad judgement.

So I chucked out the chess board. I emailed my adviser to be sure I wouldn’t mess up my credits by dropping the minor. I wouldn’t. Hurrah.

German it is then. Draußen ist Freiheit — outside is freedom. Sometimes you just have to say to hell with it, seize the bit in your teeth, and bolt. Woo, yay for feeling don’t careish.

But it doesn’t really make me sad. Few things actually do. I make myself sad (though my claws have been well-sheathed of late), being ignored makes me beyond sad, and sometimes I come across a book, movie, tv show, or musical that makes me happily sad.

Instead, as cliche as it sounds, I treasure my memories. I’m so happy when I meet awesome people.

That said, I miss Indian food. The Indian food in England is very unique to anywhere else, even other Western countries. I remember the spice profiles though! I also brought something with me across the pond — a few jars of curry paste!

It was with fond nostalgia of my British buddies that I pulled together a mega yummy dinner. The chief irony is that only three of the people I mentioned would probably eat it.

This curry-inspired dish is simple but it’s hearty. London raised my spice level but it’s not packing too much heat. Feel free to dump in chilies.

Ground Beef Curry

Serves 3-4

Ingredients

• 1 pound ground beef (I used an 80/20 grassfed)
• 1/2 sweet-ish onion
• 1 red bell pepper
• 2 tsp butter
• 1 can chopped/diced tomatoes
• ~2-3 tsp Indian spice blend or assorted individual spices (whatever you fancy)
• 1 tbsp green curry paste or laksa curry paste
• 1 tbsp tamarind relish or to taste (tamarind paste works too but you’ll have to adjust the amount based on taste)
• 1 tsp red curry paste
• 1/2 cup full-fat coconut milk
• Salt and Pepper to taste