vegan blogs

i’ve been scouring vegan blogs looking for something worth eating. i guess i just have super high standards, but most of the blogs i have gone through are trash. i need quality pictures, recipes, and dishes i would actually set out to make. half the time these bloggers are posting pictures of anything they throw together (it shows, by the way) from what’s in their cabinets. in the process, i did find this recipe for donuts. i have been looking for a donut recipe for ages and this looks like it could be the answer. i tried to make some with molly before i moved, but the dough didn’t rise and was a total bummer. all i need is a donut pan, and i’ll be unstoppable.

i should restart my own food blog, but maybe i should figure out that whole “career” “money” “life” thing first.

the end of an era.

I’m saying goodbye to the South.

I’ll miss it and all of its smiling faces and beautiful places.

i got your package the other day.

just in case you forgot, forget me not.

it’s not uncommon to hear someone say, “this book changed my life.” i’ve never really felt like that about anything, but if i were to make this claim about any book it would have to be a collection of love letters that were never intended to be seen by my eyes. reading other people’s most secret feelings and desires was like reading my own. with valentine’s day fast approaching, i wanted to confess that my own act of voyeurism caused me to reevaluate my life and look for something more. it caused me to go through my own memento boxes searching for photos, letters, saved internet conversations, mix cds, post cards, you name it. those are the things that mean the most to me. after that, it was pretty clear and i had made up my mind.

there was definitely a noticeable absence in all my keepsake boxes. no birthday cards, no thoughtful notes, no heart wrenching letters, no mix cds, no playlists, no sentimental gifts, not even very many pictures (in the digital age, this is inexcusable). i hate to say it, but maybe it was too late.

my friend erika told me that before her dad went overseas with the military, he left her mom little love notes all around the house so that she would find them as the days passed. that’s the kind of life i want. well, not the kind where my husband is overseas with the military and i’m at home with our 5 kids or whatever. but you know.

i want my boxes to be overflowing. not carry on size, checked baggage.

“don’t put all your eggs in one basket”

to be contrasted with my fortune cookie:

“it is time to put one of your most promising ideas into action”

i don’t eat eggs anyway, its against my beliefs.

as of today - i am a woman.

this post will probably make you uncomfortable. sorry.

i know that i have uttered the phrase “today i am a woman” a handful of times. i feel confident in saying that these words were spoken in jest, but with an element of truth and a hint of accomplishment mixed in there as well. i think the fact that talking about my no-no (the fact that i say no-no instead of vagina probably discounts the whole me being an adult woman) is uncomfortable and awkward and so joking about these milestones makes it easier to bare.

i cant really remember the exact moments ive said this in the past, but i could probably list the occasions in which i uttered this definitive statement. if i didnt think it at the time, then im going to just say i did for good measure.

• when i got my period (aside - this has nothing to do with my period but in the north people say “i got” more often than in the south. ie “i got an a on my paper” where as in the south people “make” a’s. whats with that? then again - in the south people ‘cut’ on the lights and that is just absurd.)
• after 1st, 2nd, and homeplate. (3rd is just weird and i wont even lie and say i thought “i am a woman” after that.)
• after the first time i bought contraceptives and a pregnancy test (i hated being a woman that time)
• that time i got a pedicure and manicure.
• that time i bought $150 perfume. (actually i thought “im a stupid woman”)
• and today - the first time i went to the gynecologist

as for my review of my trip to the gynecologist ill just quote my best friend from high school sarah keane “he was in and out”. im sorry you had to read this, but this was a big deal to me and i felt i had to document it along with all my serious posts (see also - how to tie a scarf a million different ways and i want this ring pt 1 and 2).

for the anniversary of my birth

i still want you to get me that ring.

also- i want pictures, mix cds, and plane tickets.

scarves

so, its no secret that i love scarves. id like to confess that i spent a better portion of my night on the phone with my mom and learning how to tie scarves in fun and interesting ways. apparently, hermes has their “playbook” on the website available for download but i could not find it anywhere. i did find this blog that has the pages from the 1988 book, and thats just as good. it seriously made my night, which i think is very telling of my life. i considered it homework for the job. i just want to go to work and dress all the forms with silk scarves in crazy knots. also - i learned that my tie of choice is called the cowboy.

i also looked up common stain removal tricks and my new silk shirt from jcrew with the pizza grease on it is hanging out with some cornstarch and lovin’ it. ill let you know how that goes. this was somewhat of an unnecessary post, but it made me happy so suck it.

coinciding memories

A man and a woman meet by chance while returning to their homeland, which they had abandoned twenty years earlier when they chose to become exiles. Will they manage to pick up the thread of their strange love story, interrupted almost as soon as it began and then lost in the tides of history? The truth is that after such a long absence “their memories no longer match.” We always believe that our memories coincide with those of the person we loved, that we experienced the same thing. But this is just an illusion. Then again, what can we expect of our weak memory? It records only an “insignificant, minuscule particle” of the past, and “no one knows why it’s this bit and not any other bit.” We live our lives sunk in a vast forgetting, a fact we refuse to recognize.

So this excerpt sets the tone for what I’ve been thinking about and what will most likely keep me up tonight. With age, my memory has faded dramatically. I’m not sure if it’s because in my teenage years I analyzed every last detail of my days. Every piece of dialogue. Every expression. Every internet conversation that I would subsequently save on my family computer’s harddrive and review countless times. (Aside / Confession: the day my brother erased all the files on the computer I sobbed uncontrollably for hours. My parents and my brother had no idea why I was so upset over the loss of a few text files, but felt terrible for me despite their confusion.) All of this analysis and recollection lead to a definitive construct of my life in the depths of my memory. As the years have passed I can still recall how I felt with every line of every conversation in those pivotal years. Oddly enough, I can barely remember anything about the years that followed which were not nearly as long ago and in which i have had some of the most monumental moments of my life.

With this said, there are a few things that occupy my thoughts and leave me questioning my own memory and emotions.

What if my memories no longer match with those who shared them in the distant past? Could the memories that are most dear to my heart be forgotten by someone else? Could the people I held with so much esteem think of me in a different light? “And if most people fade to gray and black, you’ll fade to light blue” in my eyes, but what if i’m just a murky charcoal in their’s? Somehow, I don’t think that’s really the case. At least not to that extent. And at least I don’t hope so. But who knows what has happened since then and maybe that’s just a chapter in the past that is looked upon fondly by others and is venerated by me.

And what about with those whom I share memories with from the not so distant past? I’m certain my memory does not match with their’s because of my preoccupation with the preceding years. Somehow, I feel as though I have made them unduly less significant. I admit I probably don’t truly understanding the feelings of those that share recent memories because of this and because they place higher significance on their memories. Because those memories are the ones they hold with the highest esteem.

Is me recognizing this just a rationalization? Are those distant memories the most significant for a reason. Have I forgotten the details of other memories for a reason? That’s the most pressing and important question and one that I don’t expect to answer tonight or any time soon.

forget me not

i want this:

and someone who wants to be remembered always to give it to me.

book it.

it’s official.