Perhaps I'm not that bad after all.

I can't escape my ethnicity.

I have constant visual reminders of it.  All the time I look in the mirror and see my ungainly face and what I see is the heritage of my ancestors, which includes various indigenous cultures.  And while they may seem noble and brave and fierce fighters, they also have inelegant facial structures and often look angry when in fact they're tired or sad or contemplative.  That is the heritage I see radiating from my face.

I also cannot escape that the simple foods which comprise my culture are going to be forever a part of my diet.  I may try to act the gourmet, but in reality a lot of the foods I eat are very simple peasant dishes which may be gaining somewhat of a cachet in contemporary American society for being the "exotic" thing that's in and hip these days, but when I look at those dishes I just see things that poor people developed to eat and provide sustenance to their families, i.e. dishes with very little real sophistication to them.

I myself am not sophisticated either.  I may attempt to be hyperintellectual and a deep thinker, but deep within me resides a primal self, a heart that shows itself too much and a soul that gives too much away.  The mad passionate Latina I swore I could never be is in reality not that far away from my very essence, nor am I particularly comfortable with shutting her away in favor of the cool elegance that I dream I could be but in fact can never be.

Moreover, I may be excited to share my culture's/heritage's native language with others who are well versed in it, but I fail to see how it could be construed as "exciting" or something other than a language that most of its learners take up as a necessity.  It will never gain the respect of some of its sister languages, i.e. French or Latin, nor will it be considered truly "important" IMO.  It just sounds as clumsy as we seem to the people looking from the outside in.

Also, the idea of the Latin lover has long since been proven to be the stuff of fantasy, relegated to the same section of fiction that stories of unicorns and magical rainbows exist within.  In reality, far too many of my male counterparts are uncultured, crude Neanderthals, or rude and subversively hostile chauvinists who are only far too good at hiding their hostilities to create a veneer of passion, an artifice of swoonability.  That is why I cannot trust any of these chiseled alpha males; I know only too well what resides beyond those visages.

I cannot escape who I am.  Up until now I have had no problems with that.  But after a period of self-examination which has led to this posting, I feel instead great dread and consternation over this.  "Proud to be Latina"?  Maybe not.

From a red-blooded hetero female on MySpace.

The guy in the video-y match.com ad on this website is really cute.  You know the one -- brunet, with tousled hair, wearing a dark blue (possibly gray?) sweater and drinking some orange juice at the beginning of the ad?  I feel like such a dope doing this, esp since I'm sure it was match.com's original intent to make people do such a thing, but tonight I was sending off a reply to something in my inbox and took notice of this ad in the "Your Message Has Been Sent!" page and, well, I just sat there for two whole minutes, mesmerized.  And I just know this guy's an actor who has no need of such services as match.com so maybe it isn't really working *that* well as an ad, but it is an effective time waster.  If anyone actually spots any guys on match.com who look like this one, or knows of any available guys who look like "orange juice drinking guy", please let me know.

OTOH, I feel like buying me some orange juice after watching this, so maybe this is more effective as an ad for Tropicana or Minute Maid.  "Here, drink this and cute guys will want to drink OJ with you!"

Another observation from this that I kinda already knew about but this has solidified it -- eyes really get me.  Especially sorta puppy dog-ish eyes.  A purposely sultry look would make me laugh far too hard to be intrigued further, but adorableness apparently works on me.  I don't really know how to describe the kind of eyes I get into the most, but I suppose there's a sort of kindness to the eyes I like the most.  Brooding eyes take a second place position with me, and they would have to be the "I'm brooding because I'm sad" kind of David Sylvian-esque eyes, not the "I'm brooding because I'm a rebel, me" kind of eyes.

... God I really need some action on the love and romance front.

So I was doing my weekly medication arrangement thingamabob, where I take every pill I'm going to be drinking down throughout the week and putting them in my trusty 7-day pill organizer.  (It kinda looks like the one shown on this webpage, but as I got this one from Walgreens and not this retailer it will obv be different.)  And I got to thinking -- there was once a point in my life when all I had to take was the one pill in order to live my life.  This was back when I was 17 and in relatively good health.  Now that I am an old 28 year old spinster, I have to take many more pills in order to ensure that I can feel the same way I did when I was 17 and in relatively good health.  I thought I'd list for you the pills I have to take on a daily basis, just in case you're interested in that kind of thing.

1.  Lo/Ovral:  A birth control pill, it's the first daily medication I was put on.  Being that I've been diagnosed with PCOS since I was 16, this is necessary for my reproductive/hormonal health.  I have been off this precisely once since I was 17, a period of about six months when my ovaries almost literally kicked my ass.  I have not surprisingly not made that mistake since.
2.  Singulair:  For its anti-allergy/asthma control properties.  Helps out fantastically as far as the asthma control part goes, but as far as the anti-allergy part, I need the Green Berets of anti-allergy medicine for that, and that one is:
3.  OTC generic Claritin-a-like:  The only thing that can effectively keep my allergies at bay in this allergy-heavy part of the world, it's also great at aiding Singulair in my asthma control.  When I take this and the above listed medicine together, I only need to reach for my rescue inhaler once a month at most.
4.  OTC heartburn protection pill:  Because my digestive system has never quite particularly liked me, but it's disliked me even more now that my gallbladder is out and that vital member of the digestive team is missing.  I don't have super duper massive levels of heartburn, else I'd be asking for the real deal prescription strength dose of whatever it is I'm taking instead of this.
5.  Hydrochlorothiazide:  My most recently prescribed medication, it's for my borderline blood pressure... thing.  Yes, my blood pressure measures a little high.  Yes, it is partly because of my overreliance on convenience foods and also partly because of life's ever present stressors.  It is also partly because I am genetically predisposed to this kind of thing, so my doctor wants me to watch it before I get into the high blood pressure camp.
6.  OTC caffeine pill:  I know I mentioned borderline blood pressure and maybe it's not particularly healthy to be jacked up with that kind of sword of Damocles in my life, but I have to take at least one caffeine pill a day or else I just can't make it through the day.  Especially since I've cut down greatly on the sodas and iced teas I consume and am in fact imbibing far more water than anything else.  I need some way of replacing all of that lost caffeine, plus it just helps keep me going in my day to day.  Some days I need up to three a day.  Being that I'm a good girl and space them out to where I take one every six hours, these will be the especially long days.
7. Generic daily multivitamin:  So that I can be assured of getting the nutrition I need throughout the day and will also be able to manage my day to day, which I have only just recently found out go hand and hand, like peanut butter and jelly in a sandwich, or Depeche Mode and Camouflage back-to-back on the '80s radio.
8.  One acetominophen pill:  Helps manage my daily headaches very well, thank you.  In fact, I swear by acetominophen now.  No more nasty hydrocodone (Vicodin) unless I absolutely, positively HAVE TO, and even then I try to take a half a pill at most per day.  The back pains I get now from taking hydrocodone are seriously not worth me taking them for about 90% of all my aches and pains.  This is why I have a sizeable store of hydrocodone at home but have just recently purchased another big bottle of acetominophen.

Once I take all of these above pills, I feel as sprightly and healthy as I did when I was 17 and can manage everything life throws at me.  Lord knows what kind of medication super bonanza I'll be subjecting myself to when I get to my mom's age, though she's up to two pill organizers' worth of meds so maybe I'd be following in that kind of tradition.

(Now listening to this online radio station, BTW.  Shout out time!)

I haven't been able to post a blog in here for a long time because I either don't have the time to or my computer keeps on getting sad on me when I *do* have the time.  Ergo this quick little stream of consciousness post.

I am obsessed with two things:  Gardetto's original-flavor snack mix and the song "Enjoy" by the Huntington Beach, CA, New Wave group the Suburban Lawns.  The first is super-crunchy, healthier than virtually anything else out there in, um, the same aisle of the grocery store, and delicious.  Crunch crunch.  The second has gotten me seriously bad and even though I've listened to it some roughly 30 times over the course of the past three days, I still want more.  I like some of the band members' names:  Su Tissue, Frankie Ennui, and Vex Billingsgate most notably.  But so much about the Suburban Lawns online appears to be about this song they did called "Gidget Goes To Hell", which doesn't help me out as far as my "Enjoy" obsession goes.  (Also it appears that "Enjoy" was one of a minority of songs not featuring Tissue on lead vocals.)

Also wanted to point out that I was in the hospital from the 23rd - 26th of January and that on the 25th I underwent an endoscopic-type procedure wherein they made small cuts to widen the opening of my sphincter.  (And instantly my former "Wayne's World"-loving self feels the need to cringe/laugh.)  (Also, I don't give a flip anymore if the whole world knows this kind of thing.)  I was going to write an epic post about what went on during my hospitalization but it turned out far too self-important and was dragging on and besides, I couldn't finish it due to time constraints, so, eh.  But that was by far the longest consecutive time period I've spent in a hospital.  And I can still kinda see where they inserted my IV.  It looks like a tiny little bruise.

Been drinking lots and lots of water ever since.  And juice as well.  Unfortunately I can't foresee a time anywhere in the near future where I will be able to go back to drinking sodas on even an occasional basis.  Certainly I won't be able to drink sodas the way I was drinking them in early November (i.e. just three months ago) perhaps ever again.  I don't know.  I'll have to see about that.  Also, I'm limiting myself to apple juice since orange and grape juices are apparently too acidic for me.  And I seem to be able to tolerate coffee well, but it makes me feel so dehydrated that I don't want to drink that all that often.  Iced tea still seems to quench me, but I don't drink it all that often either.

Forgot the rest of what I was going to type out.  Bummer.

Courtesy xkcd:



Edit:  Ok, this next one is SO me it's scary (yet funny):

I had tried to input a "blog" entry entitled "2 Days In The Life" but fucking stupid MySpace suddenly decided that I wasn't "logged in", the fuckheads, so after trying to log in and going back to the screen where I'd inputted all of said entry, I found only the subject title and privacy setting intact.  Fuck this shit.  I spent 20 minutes on that entry and I am not about to try to sit up in this computer chair the way I feel for another 20 minutes trying to recreate all I expressed in that entry.  Fucking stupid MySpace dickheads.

From the viewpoint I offer up right now at this very moment, what's going to be happening in approximately three hours looms large over the horizon.  It is filled with a great deal of foreboding and anxious anticipation, a massive event that appears to have the capacity to Change Lives.  Probably from the viewpoint of looking back upon this day a year or so from now, it will all seem to be merely a blip on the life radar, a dot on the appointment calendar, something to list in the roundup of life's statistics.  But at the very moment just a few short hours before It Actually Happens, it seems like the most important event to happen to me yet.

Even though I've gone through similar before in the past, this is the first time I've come to the table with expectations that I hope are not going to be too high.  I fully expect to spend just 48 hours waylaid by what will happen today -- well, maybe a few hours over 48.  Anything more than that and I will begin to worry.  Other instances, I had the occasion to spend weeks recovering fully, waiting to heal and enjoying my time doing little else.  (Though some things were a little tricky, e.g. taking showers.)  But today I am hoping to come out of everything not needing or feeling the need to recover in such a fashion.  Add to that the frustration of having to deal with an overdramatic mother, who is to be my escort for the day (the hospital demanded at least one), and you might be able to see how tensions are just a little bit high.

At the present moment, I am sitting in comparative calm, letting only the light from the computer monitor illuminate the room.  I plan on trying to squirrel away just enough time post-entry to scan through a page or two of distraction reading online, just to keep my mind preoccupied and distracted.  Then will come the inevitable ride over and the ensuing drama of a day that promises to be anything but ordinary.  Hopefully tonight will see me in relatively good spirits, but we shall see about that.  I will update you as soon as I can, hopefully no later than tomorrow night.

What else do I have to say about this?  Nothing much.  Just the feeling of finality here, the closing up of thoughts already expressed.  For what else can one convey in such a moment?  For now there is only hope and fear and worry and excitement.  The rest will come as the day passes into night.

Since I feel like doing one of those "getting to know you" quizzes and this one looked like fun.

1. Seven things you can do
I can cook, blow bubbles with bubblegum, take multiple pills at the same time (though I need water), build a computer, compute basic arithmetic in my head (e.g. the total price of something including discounts and tax), talk about New Wave music, and be serious.

2. Seven things you can't do
I can't whistle (though I do occasionally make an accidental whistle-like noise when trying), run more than a mile without collapsing, get into things I'm not wholly and authentically passionate about, easily master a foreign language (as much as I've studied Spanish, you'd think I'd be able to discuss Borges in the native language), memorize anything, eat particularly greasy food, or stand enough alcohol to get drunk.

3. Seven flaws or bad habits you can't avoid
Biting my nails, twisting my hair around, being fidgety, procrastinating, twiddling my thumbs, tapping my fingers on a hard surface, being snarky

4. Seven people you admire and have inspired your life
My mom, my dad, my maternal grandmother, my maternal grandfather, F. Scott Fitzgerald, David Bowie, and Dr. Liviu Librescu.

5. Seven things you want to do before you die
Visit Japan, ride some of the U.S.'s more legendary roller coasters, try roasted bone marrow, get an editorial letter published in the New York Times, meet John Foxx and touch him to see if he's real, master the art of souffle making, and go back to London for a visit.

6. Seven things you say a lot
Awesome, totally, "with regard to", "you ain't kidding me", "what?", shit (my favorite curse word), "excuse me"

7. Seven famous people you have had a crush on
(Thank God it says "famous people":)  Nick Rhodes, John Taylor, David Sylvian, Steve Jansen, Jonathan Rhys Meyers (almost a decade before the debut of "The Tudors" thankyewveddymuch), Michael Hutchence, and late '80s-era Christian Slater.

I just found out that the episode of "The Graham Norton Show" that is currently airing on BBC America is basically a truncated version of the episode that is actually supposed to air on its original BBC (UK) source ON DECEMBER 26.  Meaning we're watching something British-y three days prior to when actual British type folks will be watching it!  Granted, we're not getting two of the special guests touted for said program (though it's a mystery as we Americans have just as much of an idea who Lorraine Kelly and Russell Brand are as we have with Christopher Biggins and Barbara Windsor, i.e. the whole "Who?" thing), *but* we are getting to watch 45 minutes of this special (yes, BBCA *is* commercial TV because it's actually a member of the Discover Channel family) and, wow, we're getting to do it days before the British do.

Odd.  And freaky.  Though I'd wish BBCA had been as proactive wrt airing LOM.  *tsk*  Waiting until fucking DECEMBER to air shit that had been heavily touted all the way back in May as an upcoming programming highlight is some weak b.s. I can't understand.

Since I know no one I know will give me the gift of books for Christmas (or my birthday, for that matter), I decided to get a jump on the gift-giving (to me) this past week.  In the past five days, I have bought six books, which is a heck of a lot of books for me.  Now the fun part will be finding the time within the small Christmas vacation time window work provides to read all these books.  There will be a report on these books as time progresses.

What holiday retail commercials teach me about the patrons of various department/apparel/other stores:

Stein Mart's customers like to break the bank slowly but surely, but at least they get to fill a large moving van with the various items they pick up so they get to give gifts to 500 of their closest friends and family members.

Old Navy's customers are mature, sophisticated types, who just happen to wear casual clothing.

JC Penney's customers must be related to Walgreens customers, as they all manage to purchase the "perfect" gift precisely when those gifts should ideally be given.  I guess the main patriarch of that family is Santa Claus.

Best Buy's customers are all super-rich people who love to bestow upon their children every technological trinket and doodad out there.  Must be nice to grow up in that kind of family.

TJ Maxx customers are all clueless bitches whose lives are so insigificant, bereft of meaning, and undefined that the only things they can think to enthuse about are gaudy material things that look as though they were taken from a Parisian whore.

Ross customers are just about as tacky as the aforementioned Parisian whore, but at least they don't bankrupt themselves when they festoon themselves with their loud print scarves and door knocker earrings.

Of all the above, I think I'd only want to hang out with the Stein Mart and Old Navy people.  Oh, and the Best Buy people too, but only in hopes they'd give me something neat like a new cell phone for my Christmas gift.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been primarily focused on getting myself feeling better.  Beginning, end, all that -- every moment of my ruminative life has been fixated upon how I can make myself feel healthy again.  This has led me to push away all of my contemplativeness and has dissuaded me from being able to muse over some of the Big Issues I'd previously been mulling over.  In a way I feel regretful about that, as if I have abandoned a part of myself that I'd discovered is actually quite enjoyable to indulge in, if not vitally necessary.  But then again -- maybe this is a part of actually growing up?  Maybe as I inch closer to 30, the philosophical questions become much less prevalent, as I become finally aware of who I am as a whole individual.  If so, this may be my first tastes of a life fully aware, of a being fully realized.

If this is a taste of that kind of existence, then I don't have anything to fear from that part of my existence.  To my relief, I have found this ever-increasing inner stability and self-assuredness not leading to a staid, unimaginative, curiosity-free existence.  Thankfully, I have found myself still incredibly curious with all things pop cultural, with my musical tastes in particular growing ever more complex and interesting with each new personal discovery.  I have also not stopped preferring those aspects of pop culture that are a little bit idiosyncratic, a little "left of center" if you will.  This bodes well for the rest of the entirety of my existence.

I don't want to turn into one of those individuals who relies on Oprah Winfrey or a similar personality as an arbiter of everything that Must Be Consumed.  I don't want to wake up one day in that despicable land of the dull and the middle brow, whereby that which offends the fewest is accorded the highest esteem.  I don't want to wake up one day and not want to be challenged when I read something or hear something or watch something.  I want to be an old woman still pushing my own personal boundaries, still challenging myself to embrace that which would fit my true self yet which also expands upon those boundaries.  I know I'm probably never going to go for Bolivian goat herder music or gory tales of literal or figurative annhiliation, but if I can find a way of working with what I've already established I love and expanding upon *that*, then I will win in the end.

Now, going back to Oprah -- there are few people I disrespect more than her and her deluded audience.  Nothing is worse in my mind than those who think above their station, who accord a degree of import that which does not deserve such importance.  I have more respect for Jerry Springer and his audience because they do not delude themselves into thinking they're anything but the "low brow" culture they are, but for an Oprah acolyte to assume that they are highly cultured when in fact they are *barely* cultured is silliness and stupidity to a degree that I find highly disgusting.  I pledge that I will never become like that, never "settle" culturally or go for the easy thing.

Anyway, as far as growing and maturing goes, I suppose it will feel good to finally emerge from this final stage of adolescence and seize upon a long-awaited true adulthood.  It's been what I've been dreaming of for years.  I can recall a time when I was so filled with questions and self-doubt that I wished I could automatically be transformed into that fully realized adult, but time has taught me that the process toward this is vitally important and should not be skipped over.  Indeed, I am grateful for those lengthy periods of self-doubt and questioning, even when they caused me a great degree of inner turmoil.  I feel as though those periods have enabled me to shape and embrace that which I have already started becoming.  I don't think that I could have been able to see the progression and developments I've made without those periods of doubt.

So I made myself a soup/stew today.  I got rave reviews from it.  It's a soup/stew because it's half soup, half stew, natch.  I wanted something with the heartiness and taste of my favorite beef stew but with the consistency and mouthfeel of soup, so I modified my parents' old beef stew recipe some and made what turned out to be an incredibly good soup, if I do say so myself.  This is how I did it.

First, I cubed up two thick steaks I'd gotten from a warehouse club because they were a good deal.
Then I sprinkled three tablespoons of flour over the steaks and tossed them in the flour.
Then I cut up one whole onion into big pieces.
Then I drizzled two tablespoons of vegetable oil into a Dutch oven and let it get nice and hot.
Then I dropped in the onion and floured-up steak cubes to the Dutch oven.
Then I added in salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.
I sauteed the onion and steak cubes for approximately thirty minutes.
While the onion and steaks were sauteeing, I prepared the vegetables:
I peeled four carrots and cut them into big chunks.
Then I cut up two zucchini into big chunks.
Then I measured out about 6 1/2 cups of water into a large measuring cup and stirred in three tablespoons of Worchestershire sauce into the water.
Then I got out three beef bouillon cubes and unwrapped them.
Then I got five small potatoes (three large ones) and peeled them, then cut them into big chunks.
Then I stirred in the water, beef bouillon, and vegetables.
I covered the Dutch oven and let everything simmer for about 2 1/2 hours.
I occasionally went back to the soup/stew to stir and taste, to see if it needed any more salt and/or garlic powder.
Almost 2 hours and 20 minutes after the simmering began, I added in some cilantro and 1/8 of a package of frozen peas and stirred.
Finally, after 2 1/2 hours of simmering, the soup/stew was done.

(Edit to state that I had The Fall's "The Classical" stuck in my head all throughout making this soup/stew.  So if you want to faithfully replicate the making of the aforementioned recipe, perhaps you might want to have that song playing on repeat on your iPod/CD player/other music playing device.)