Moving on...

So this is a really weird time in my life- and I think taking a year off is to blame. The sad reality is that all my friends that are a year younger than me are getting excited about going back to college while a large percentage of my friends that have graduated with me are now going to grad school. They are all leaving me and I am stuck back on Long Island. Luckily, some of my best friends are home as well, but it doesn't really make this time any easier. I'm hoping that when my internship starts in the beginning of September life will start looking up, but for now, I can't help but feeling stuck in my life. Our lives have pretty much turned into hanging out at parking lots wondering what were going to do with our lives, and waiting for a special occasion to blow our money on tons of booze. Alcohol is truly a wonder drug, and in times like these, I am grateful for it.

I'm studying- yet again- for the LSATS. The entire time I am taking question after question I wonder why I am even putting myself through the torture. I do really well on practice tests, but I am a choke artist. I swear, if Reggie Miller came to watch me on the day of the LSATS, he would have a field day (get it, the choke thing.... yeah, don't worry if you don't. It's a product of being the younger sister of a Pacers fan). But still, I go on, taking question after question, hoping that this time, the test will actually reflect my efforts and dreaming of all the grad schools I could go to.

Sadly, this is my life. So far, being a college grad pretty much sucks. I am jealous of those going back to college, jealous of those going to grad school and jealous of the working people who have their own apartments. Why did I ever thing that spending a year at home would be a good idea? On the bright side, I have lost roughly 15 pounds since college, apparently all the pent up frustration is exactly what I needed to get myself on the elliptical every day.

Well, that's it for now. If anything truly interesting happens in my life, I'll be sure to write. But as the most remarkable thing has been that the tickets I had to the Rachael Ray show got cancelled. For the record, I hate RR. Hell if she can say EVOO then I can say RR. I hate her guts, I think she is annoying and she can't cook and that she really needs to lay of the ciggys. So when I say that I, not only got tickets for this show, but was also upset by the cancellation, you know just how low my life has sunk to. Anyways, the point is, don't hold your breath, it may be a while.

Food Philosophy

I just came back from watching Julie and Julia and I have to say, its been a long while since a movie has resonated so deeply with me. Although I know I am not alone in saying this, I truly feel like that movie was speaking directly to me. I'm a new blogger and just like Julie was in the beginning, I can't help but feel like no one is reading my blog. I mean, sure I know that's not entirely true as the amount of hits on my site keep steadily increasing, but I can't help but wonder who to attribute this to. In reality, I have three "followers" and they include my best friend, my boyfriend and his best friend. I love them each dearly, but considering they usually tend to hear more of my thoughts than they'd like to, it doesn't seem worth it to write a blog for their benefits. So I guess what I'm saying is, I can't help but feel like a very tiny fish in a very large pond, a needle in a haystack... and at times, a nobody. But then again, aren't we all just nobodies?

It's exactly times like these, times when I feel myself spiraling quickly into an existential crisis that I love to bake. Unfortunately, it is almost 1 am and if I go downstairs to bake now, my parents will probably send me to a shrink. So instead, I'll blog about baking. Don't get me wrong, I love to cook, and back when I was at school me and my boyfriend would cook together almost nightly. Usually, we'd spare no expense, buying the most random ingredients for dishes that we knew we would never use again. By the end of the year, my pantry was probably more stocked than most of the women have after accumulating theirs for a decade. Although sometimes, cooking proved to be a stressful and at times annoying process, the truth is that when we finally sat down to eat (usually three hours after starting the entire cooking process, not including grocery shopping), all the blood, sweat and tears (literally) all faded away. The alcohol helped, no doubt- but it was more than just that. It's this feeling of fulfillment, of utter satisfaction that is so hard to explain, that made us go through the entire process the following night.

Cooking, however novel the dishes, is still a mundane process. This doesn't mean I don't enjoy it, but as it is something that must be done daily, it tends to lack the excitement of baking. I started baking before I ever started cooking. My mom would deal with the dinner, and occasionally, if I was in the mood, it was a birthday or holiday, or if someone in my family had a yen for something sweet, I would make dessert. I have become quite well-known within my family and close friends as being the one to turn to if your sweet tooth is acting up. However, as I've grown, and therefore so has the amount of stress in my life, I find myself gravitating towards the kitchen every time something truly bad happens in my day. The day my car got broken into and my ipod and gps was stolen, I discovered the joys of monkey bread. A bad grade on a test? Only white chocolate coconut cookies could brighten my day. Part of this has to obviously do with the end product, but really, thats just the cherry on top. Most of all, its the very process of measuring exact quantities of ingredients, that can make you forget your troubles for just a little while, and sometimes give you the perspective you need to get yourself through the day. I know those who hate baking, saying that they prefer the freedom of cooking to the exactness of baking, and while on a day to day basis I agree with them, there is something extremely liberating in just following a recipe to the T. Well, I suppose I never truly follow a recipe exactly, often choosing semi-chocolate chips over raisons and the like, but when it comes to the flour to baking soda or powder, I never wavered from the recipe.

...And the smell. There really is nothing like the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. The way it drives you wild for sometimes up to an entire hour, and then comes out too hot to eat, tantalizing you for even longer as you sit there wondering with every minute that passes if its cool enough to eat yet. There really is nothing else like it. Finally, you then get to watch your family and friends devour every last bite, searching for the words to express just how great their life is just for knowing someone who has the ability to make something as wonderful as what you have just presented to them. Taking your own first bite as you watch the faces of all of the people you love looking like they have yet again reached nirvana through one of your own creations, you join them in their bliss realizing that the horrible day that had occurred only hours earlier suddenly seems like little more than a distant memory.

Anyways, I tried not to give too much of the movie away, because I really want everyone who has ever really understood the sheer enjoyment of a single morsel of food to watch this movie. So, go...watch. and tell your friends to read my blog!

The Quite Obvious Truth

I went to see the Ugly Truth a few nights ago, and I really wasn't expecting very much from a movie rated 1/2 a star, but as I am quite frequently reminded, I really don't mind watching movies that others believe are horrible. So, while I really enjoyed the movie, it didn't really teach me anything I didn't already know about men. I think intuitively, every girl knows the subtle art of manipulation. Any girl that has talked to a single guy other than her family has got to realize that they do indeed think out of their cocks. Really, there should be no surprise there. Just the act of putting on make up, spraying some perfume, wearing those heals that you know your ass looks great in, it's all a part of our manipulation. We know all about the librarian and the saint, and we use it. Even in relationships, we know how and more importantly, when to switch from friend mode to lover mode, and you can sure as hell bet we are using it to our own benefit.

The movie did a pretty good job in portrayed men as complete idiots. This fact is pretty much undeniable. Mine frustrates me probably more than most people I know. There will be times he will say something, or he wont understand something I'm saying and it will truly feel like we are from two completely different planets. I firmly believe that the ugly truth was right about the fact that guys will constantly think out of their dicks while women will think from their brains, or perhaps more often, from our hearts. But as long as you have a guy who knows how to keep his cock in his pants around everyone else but you, I don't think these differences are necessarily such a bad thing. Speaking from experience, there is nothing quite like the feeling of having a guy who you know is one hundred percent attracted to you and only you. In a good and healthy relationship, these differences balance each other out, and both people are better for it.

However, just as men have their faults, women are no picnic either. We're emotional, at times bitchy, judgmental, stubborn and truly there are times we are just downright crazy. Now let me define crazy. My elderly, almost blind and somewhat senile dog bit me the other day when I went to go kiss him goodnight. I was, needless to say, pissed. So what did I do? I gave him the silent treatment. For days I wouldn't talk to him, thinking that he did nothing to show he was sorry. I would feed my other dog and would completely ignore him. In the back of my mind I knew my dog had no idea what was going on, he probably hadn't even realized he bit me to begin with, much less days upon days later. Yet, I could not forgive him. I wanted to know he was sorry and I wasn't going to let it go. It wasn't until one night when I was laying in bed thinking about the situation did I realize that I was being completely insane and if I could be this unbelievably stubborn when it came down to my senile dog, I was extremely lucky to have a guy who could put up with me.

My last comment about the movie is a little bit different. There was a scene where Butler asks Hegel how many times a week she "flicks her bean." Now I don't believe myself to be a prude but I have to say that asking a girl how many times a week she "flicks the bean" is crossing a line. I don't understand why it's anyone elses business how many times their friend "rubs the nub." Perhaps that is a bit prudish, but I just believe that some things are best left private. There should be some sort of mutual understanding within humanity that says what you do behind closed doors has every right to stay there. But, thats just my opinion.