Saturday, March 17, 2012
Irish-y
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Ch-ch-changes...
Holy cow, what a cliche. However, cliches exist for a reason, and therefore: boom, it's time to take the show back on the road...Home. My California Sabbatical has come to a bit of an anti-climactic end, but an end nonetheless.
I'm not sure what exactly I expected to have happen here in the Bay Area, but it wasn't quite this. I took a big risk getting out of the kitchen, to take the job with LBF, and to have lived here and only worked in one actual restaurant is probably a waste of opportunity, but I wanted to (as usual) to expand my experience and to learn new stuff, and that, I did in spades.Loads of challenges and changes both career-wise and personally, and most of the School Of Hard Knocks variety, but you know what? I'll take it.
Not that I have a choice.
Returning to Seattle is a big deal for me, I left the city because I simply was tired of feeling like everyone knew me wherever I went, that I'd be unable to restart my life in the way that I wanted. Fresno seemed like a desperate choice, but ultimately did what I needed. I was surrounded by my closest friends, who allowed me time and space to gather myself, to sort through so many years of emotions and ideas. What seemed like running away from a failure gradually became a discovery. Sometimes when I think about how things went - about pulling myself out of a 3 month nosedive where I refused to let go of the past, which only led to more pain and anguish - until I finally did let it go. Gradually, as I built a new life, met new people who didn't know me as anything other than an old friend of K's, it was a full-on epiphany: I was who I was right then, at that moment. Not "used to be in a band", "works in reprographics" or whatever. It felt shiny and new and exactly what I wanted in that moment.
I decided I wanted to be a chef, enrolled in school, got a job in the kitchen of a children's shelter, and started doing what needed to be done, for myself. What is always amazing to me, is how things fall into place once you make that choice, that choice to do something. I had a really strict schedule in the first months of school, I'd go to school from 7am to noon, then have to be at the shelter by 2:30 and we'd prepare dinners, serve and clean up, and I'd typically get home by 7:30 or 8, in time to sometimes join K2 for dinner, sometimes be a little late, but almost always be able to hang out and chat about the day and compare notes, and then it was homework and to bed. I did that for 6 months, and worked with this amazing older Latina, Nina, who was the most feisty and yet gentle person I'd ever met. At the same time, I was practicing meditation, reading Siddhartha, and even using my work breaks to sit in a quiet corner of the yard outside the dining area to simply sit, quietly. It was so easy to have discipline then. I definitely seem to flourish when I have challenges and goals (I suppose maybe everyone does? though I suppose there are those out there who do just fine treading water, but as I've found in the last year, it doesn't do me much good). When I was offered the job at Upstairs Downtown (names are being used now, because I'm not actively employed by these places anymore, which I think is what yr supposed to do) it was a mindblowing thing. It was the only place in town doing the kind of food I wanted to do (previous journal entries detail that) and it was as close as I would get to the Holy Grails of Chez Panisse and French Laundry, so to be asked to work there was a huge victory. Looking back, what seemed at the time to be great luck, was, actually as CG said: I had "made this happen", by singling myself out to him and Sharon; and by being willing and able thanks, again, to the amazing compassion of K2, who allowed me to live with them rent-free, thus making it possible to take a full time job that only paid $8/hr so that I could get real skills in a kitchen. A kitchen working with amazing product and people who genuinely were passionate about what they did. Never would have been able to accept that job had I actually had to pay rent.
The staff of UD were possibly the most dysfunctional family I have ever....god, what word could I use to describe it? Upstairs was like being Alice in Wonderland (shit, another CG metaphor, which I only realized lately that he has used throughout my career) - an amazing refurbished warehouse in downtown Fresno, with a weekly changing menu, shopping twice a week at the Farmer's markets for produce pretty much exclusively, and getting out proteins and other goods from various specialty outlets. The only thing we got from Sysco were cleaning supplies and paper products. The interpersonal drama though, was epic, and the crazy manic-depressive co-dependent-Fu that went on left me with bruises and burns on my body and my psyche, but in the end, a huge learning curve that paid off in little ol' Fresno.
I had to play a waiting game, among others, in order to get to be the pantry chef, but once I did, the amount of freedom I had was insane, and the menu items I tried to create there allowed me to learn so many things. Not to mention actually being taught to butcher out lamb, ducks, and trim filets from beef. They let me braise whole calamari for a salad, and it was my idea. Even to the point of simply being able to understand the difference between grassfed beef, or freshly picked lettuces (seriously, it's a huge thing, fresh lettuce is so wonderful, to be able to make salads every day with those kinds of ingredients is a gift). The magic of duck cracklings, the zen of brulees, and the adrenalin rush of a la minute souffle service. Sadly, I let my emotions get the better of me, and bailed sooner than I should have.Culinary school at the same time as working at Upstairs gave me even more cache - all my instructors knew where I worked, and they commented on my dishes and my plating all the time.Even my practical, my final dish was late, but scored so high in all other categories that I finished top of my class in spite of the time penalty. School was such a good time, there was not a single day that I ever didn't want to go. That's a rare feeling, one that I won't ever forget.
I moved to a more "normal" restaurant, the brand new "5" a tuscan italian spot that got lots of press in Fresno, where, though I was hired as an assistant, I ended up being the pastry chef in less than 90 days when the barbie doll they initially hired couldn't take the day to day drudgery. I had a lot of fun at 5, and made friends I still have, including Carlos, Taylor, and Brett. Sure, I still keep in touch with Xtian, who was a server at Upstairs, who was the first person I ever texted, and is still a pal today - so many esoteric conversations in such unlikely places with him. From 5 to Lantana, another new build-out in the heavily douche-infested north end of Fresno. Truly a magic time, being there, though like all magic, when you find out it's a trick, you're kinda bummed. Ray was the Exec, I was the Pastry Chef and we had a sommelier who had worked at Chateau Marmot in LA and were even sent to LA to the owners favorite restaurants to find out what they wanted. In fact she took us a second time to do lunch spots in LA as well, which is how I came to actually eat a club sandwich in Barneys in Beverly Hills.
Man, it's been a busy 8 years. Ray and I bonding over the drive to Oakland to buy equipment for "our" restaurant, how often do you get to do that? How often when you are just a year out of school? Such a crazy fun front of house, we ran it like a real resto too, doing lineups and staff meals and....
This is a lot. I am realizing that there were a lot of details I didn't get down, even with the plethora of posts. It's just this whole California chapter is coming to a close, and i'm realizing that it's really more than just a chapter, it is, in fact, a volume on it's own. Like DC, but with so much more personal growth and self-awareness. I suppose that's simply due mostly to being older. Sometimes I feel like nothing's really happened, but when I look at it all on paper (still haven't mentioned the stage at Max's ((though there is an entry for that)) Pangea, or working for Love & Garlic, Cracked Pepper for Vatche or at Campagnia while waiting for Pangea to open, to LBF and Roli, and then finally to Latest Place Organic) so much to think about, to reflect on. So many people so many, varied specific experiences and fun stuff. Aside from work, there was culinary school hijinks, dates that couldn't see, river rafting, wine tasting, actual social party events with actual people who do social things, finding Arsenal, even getting free tickets to a Giants game from a cop on my 3rd day doing the cart at the stadium. Cool stuff. Lots of stuff.
Eight simple weeks, and a new chapter in Seattle begins, and while I'm nervous about all the usual things, I'm also, as I was when I returned from Eugene in '94, stoked. I'm ready to have old friends close again, to have family, to make new friends, to be in a place where people have memories of me (good, or bad) and I of them. There is the whole new world of possibility with smrge, to be explored as well.
I return with a new way of seeing the world, in knowing more about what makes me happy, and as the ever-wise Mr Tweedy says, better able to know what to care about, what's really important.
As stoked as I am to start again, it will tougher and bittersweet not having Scraps with me - this will be the first move I've made in 18 years without her. Still miss you like crazy everyday, Arugula.
I'm not sure what exactly I expected to have happen here in the Bay Area, but it wasn't quite this. I took a big risk getting out of the kitchen, to take the job with LBF, and to have lived here and only worked in one actual restaurant is probably a waste of opportunity, but I wanted to (as usual) to expand my experience and to learn new stuff, and that, I did in spades.Loads of challenges and changes both career-wise and personally, and most of the School Of Hard Knocks variety, but you know what? I'll take it.
Not that I have a choice.
Returning to Seattle is a big deal for me, I left the city because I simply was tired of feeling like everyone knew me wherever I went, that I'd be unable to restart my life in the way that I wanted. Fresno seemed like a desperate choice, but ultimately did what I needed. I was surrounded by my closest friends, who allowed me time and space to gather myself, to sort through so many years of emotions and ideas. What seemed like running away from a failure gradually became a discovery. Sometimes when I think about how things went - about pulling myself out of a 3 month nosedive where I refused to let go of the past, which only led to more pain and anguish - until I finally did let it go. Gradually, as I built a new life, met new people who didn't know me as anything other than an old friend of K's, it was a full-on epiphany: I was who I was right then, at that moment. Not "used to be in a band", "works in reprographics" or whatever. It felt shiny and new and exactly what I wanted in that moment.
I decided I wanted to be a chef, enrolled in school, got a job in the kitchen of a children's shelter, and started doing what needed to be done, for myself. What is always amazing to me, is how things fall into place once you make that choice, that choice to do something. I had a really strict schedule in the first months of school, I'd go to school from 7am to noon, then have to be at the shelter by 2:30 and we'd prepare dinners, serve and clean up, and I'd typically get home by 7:30 or 8, in time to sometimes join K2 for dinner, sometimes be a little late, but almost always be able to hang out and chat about the day and compare notes, and then it was homework and to bed. I did that for 6 months, and worked with this amazing older Latina, Nina, who was the most feisty and yet gentle person I'd ever met. At the same time, I was practicing meditation, reading Siddhartha, and even using my work breaks to sit in a quiet corner of the yard outside the dining area to simply sit, quietly. It was so easy to have discipline then. I definitely seem to flourish when I have challenges and goals (I suppose maybe everyone does? though I suppose there are those out there who do just fine treading water, but as I've found in the last year, it doesn't do me much good). When I was offered the job at Upstairs Downtown (names are being used now, because I'm not actively employed by these places anymore, which I think is what yr supposed to do) it was a mindblowing thing. It was the only place in town doing the kind of food I wanted to do (previous journal entries detail that) and it was as close as I would get to the Holy Grails of Chez Panisse and French Laundry, so to be asked to work there was a huge victory. Looking back, what seemed at the time to be great luck, was, actually as CG said: I had "made this happen", by singling myself out to him and Sharon; and by being willing and able thanks, again, to the amazing compassion of K2, who allowed me to live with them rent-free, thus making it possible to take a full time job that only paid $8/hr so that I could get real skills in a kitchen. A kitchen working with amazing product and people who genuinely were passionate about what they did. Never would have been able to accept that job had I actually had to pay rent.
The staff of UD were possibly the most dysfunctional family I have ever....god, what word could I use to describe it? Upstairs was like being Alice in Wonderland (shit, another CG metaphor, which I only realized lately that he has used throughout my career) - an amazing refurbished warehouse in downtown Fresno, with a weekly changing menu, shopping twice a week at the Farmer's markets for produce pretty much exclusively, and getting out proteins and other goods from various specialty outlets. The only thing we got from Sysco were cleaning supplies and paper products. The interpersonal drama though, was epic, and the crazy manic-depressive co-dependent-Fu that went on left me with bruises and burns on my body and my psyche, but in the end, a huge learning curve that paid off in little ol' Fresno.
I had to play a waiting game, among others, in order to get to be the pantry chef, but once I did, the amount of freedom I had was insane, and the menu items I tried to create there allowed me to learn so many things. Not to mention actually being taught to butcher out lamb, ducks, and trim filets from beef. They let me braise whole calamari for a salad, and it was my idea. Even to the point of simply being able to understand the difference between grassfed beef, or freshly picked lettuces (seriously, it's a huge thing, fresh lettuce is so wonderful, to be able to make salads every day with those kinds of ingredients is a gift). The magic of duck cracklings, the zen of brulees, and the adrenalin rush of a la minute souffle service. Sadly, I let my emotions get the better of me, and bailed sooner than I should have.Culinary school at the same time as working at Upstairs gave me even more cache - all my instructors knew where I worked, and they commented on my dishes and my plating all the time.Even my practical, my final dish was late, but scored so high in all other categories that I finished top of my class in spite of the time penalty. School was such a good time, there was not a single day that I ever didn't want to go. That's a rare feeling, one that I won't ever forget.
I moved to a more "normal" restaurant, the brand new "5" a tuscan italian spot that got lots of press in Fresno, where, though I was hired as an assistant, I ended up being the pastry chef in less than 90 days when the barbie doll they initially hired couldn't take the day to day drudgery. I had a lot of fun at 5, and made friends I still have, including Carlos, Taylor, and Brett. Sure, I still keep in touch with Xtian, who was a server at Upstairs, who was the first person I ever texted, and is still a pal today - so many esoteric conversations in such unlikely places with him. From 5 to Lantana, another new build-out in the heavily douche-infested north end of Fresno. Truly a magic time, being there, though like all magic, when you find out it's a trick, you're kinda bummed. Ray was the Exec, I was the Pastry Chef and we had a sommelier who had worked at Chateau Marmot in LA and were even sent to LA to the owners favorite restaurants to find out what they wanted. In fact she took us a second time to do lunch spots in LA as well, which is how I came to actually eat a club sandwich in Barneys in Beverly Hills.
Man, it's been a busy 8 years. Ray and I bonding over the drive to Oakland to buy equipment for "our" restaurant, how often do you get to do that? How often when you are just a year out of school? Such a crazy fun front of house, we ran it like a real resto too, doing lineups and staff meals and....
This is a lot. I am realizing that there were a lot of details I didn't get down, even with the plethora of posts. It's just this whole California chapter is coming to a close, and i'm realizing that it's really more than just a chapter, it is, in fact, a volume on it's own. Like DC, but with so much more personal growth and self-awareness. I suppose that's simply due mostly to being older. Sometimes I feel like nothing's really happened, but when I look at it all on paper (still haven't mentioned the stage at Max's ((though there is an entry for that)) Pangea, or working for Love & Garlic, Cracked Pepper for Vatche or at Campagnia while waiting for Pangea to open, to LBF and Roli, and then finally to Latest Place Organic) so much to think about, to reflect on. So many people so many, varied specific experiences and fun stuff. Aside from work, there was culinary school hijinks, dates that couldn't see, river rafting, wine tasting, actual social party events with actual people who do social things, finding Arsenal, even getting free tickets to a Giants game from a cop on my 3rd day doing the cart at the stadium. Cool stuff. Lots of stuff.
Eight simple weeks, and a new chapter in Seattle begins, and while I'm nervous about all the usual things, I'm also, as I was when I returned from Eugene in '94, stoked. I'm ready to have old friends close again, to have family, to make new friends, to be in a place where people have memories of me (good, or bad) and I of them. There is the whole new world of possibility with smrge, to be explored as well.
I return with a new way of seeing the world, in knowing more about what makes me happy, and as the ever-wise Mr Tweedy says, better able to know what to care about, what's really important.
As stoked as I am to start again, it will tougher and bittersweet not having Scraps with me - this will be the first move I've made in 18 years without her. Still miss you like crazy everyday, Arugula.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
week in review...
Clearly, Rome is falling. I dunno what's worse: 24 hour access to as many fancy cupcakes as you can afford/are in the dispenser or the fact that calling it an "ATM" is basically equating cupcakes to money, which means I print money for a living, which means....wait, this might not be so bad...;)
“The players put in a faultless performance, with fantastic spirit and you can only congratulate the whole team. It is a night when players can be proud to play for this Club. The team have grown together. Hopefully from here we can finish the season in a strong way.” - Arsene Wenger on beating Milan 3-0
Meanwhile, today I was never prouder to be a Gooner. Great match against Inter today, clean sheet (!!!) and we only missed out on moving to the Quarters of CL due to goal differential. Great game, and honestly, to have been watching TR7 for almost 5 years now, and see him score two games in a row? The second of 3 in this game? So much fun. We came very very close, and honestly did much better than anyone gave us credit for. RVP is a legend. I'm afraid he will leave, but understand. At any rate fantastic first half and great teamwork by the guys. I love you Arsenal, I do. My bi-polar adorkables.
Something here about the Gleek keying me in to an online stream of a dramatization of the Prop 8 hearing. really good stuff, including her boy Colfer (who, it appears, can act) but also Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Martin Sheen, Kevin Bacon, Jane Lynch and a bunch of other stellar performers. Really good. And, if you've never really had a handle on how courtroom manipulation goes, it's good to watch: they are basically simply reading transcripts from the trial, and yet, with the inflection, I personally think you get a much deeper understanding of the role lawyers, and how facts are presented really plays. Good stuff: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlUG8F9uVgM&feature=relmfu
...and finally, stuff I do to get paid:
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Daydream Believer
At any rate, Davy always represented "safe" and "normal" to me, even though he was British, shorter, and an actual stage actor who started as a childactor in a production of "Oliver" in London. (To his credit, Mickey Dolenz was also a child actor but who the hell ever saw the tv show "Circus Boy"?). I disliked him because he was the most popular, and it became a way of seeing most things in our culture that persists to this day. I gravitate to the unique, different, and the difficult.
Even as a little kid, watching the Brady Bunch, the fact that my least favorite Brady (Marcia, duh) crushed out on Davy just strengthened my resolve. Clearly everyone loved davey, and that must mean the other Monkees weren't getting love, that was what I always told myself as I watched on Saturday mornings thorughout the 70's, huddled in my light green beanbag, madly scanning the TV Guide for more episodes. I do love the biggest musical hit, "Daydream Believer", and feel like it couldn't have been sung by anyone other than Davy. It was one of the first songs I ever learned all the words to, and Stepping Stone, Mickey's big hit, was one of the first cover tunes I ever learned on bass.
Most of all, as my pal Drl pointed out today - Davy also seemingly created the Axl Rose shimmy dance (see above screen cap) and for that alone he will be a small legend in my mind. I certainly didn't expect him to be the first Monkee to shuffle off this mortal coil (somehow, I thought it would be Peter, in some crazy accidental convenience store drug rampage or something), yet another milepost passes into the distance.
That said, today marks a week since smrge's visit began. It was a bit of a fantastic daydream right out of the gate - a warm, sweet meeting at the airport, animated conversation and affection as we drove back to the house. We enjoyed delightful morning cocktails (i did a little bloody mary magic) and reacquainted ourselves. Drug out old pictures, and compared notes. The evening was spent enjoying the construction of a pizza as music was played and conversation expanded. We curled up in the evening, putting a stuffed bear out to pasture, and enjoying the Wilco doc, "Ashes of American Flags" which smrge hadn't seen, and in fact, loved. We played each other music (I heard latest TOOL, he latest Wilco) and the natural affinity seemed to click in well.
Friday was a rambling day - Berkeley guitar shop, SF car tour and more music stores. Lunch at Nopalito, which was an adventure in urban hipster land, but I was so happy to have him by my side, and we headed home, where I did my traditional roasted chicken dinner, and it was more relaxing and watching movies, Doctor Who, and music, some heartfelt discussions and laughter. Saturday was leisurely, coffee, scones and some observation of the backyard fauna, specifically Addict Cat ("Whiskers") whom smrge managed to entice to within arm's reach. That evening we drove into the City via Marin, so that smrge could travel the Golden Gate Bridge, and we braved the dreaded (by me) Marina district in order to eat at my old coworker's new gig: Umami. Taylor took care of us - we sat at the sushi bar, not far from his station, and he sent out a huge menu of all his favorites, and we filled in with a few pieces of sashimi and seriously, some of the most lovely sake I've ever drunk. Taylor also demoed a new salad for us (not on the menu yet, but soon) of house smoked duck and a salad of pea shoots, kumquats, watermelon radish and other seasonal yumminess. From there, it was tuna tataki, cherry smoked salmon, halibut sashimi in a ceviche style that blew my doors off...a take on a bbq pork sandwich as a roll, and so many more things (I kept the menu, and may break it down again). Taylor came out a couple times to talk to us, to tell us about the food he was sending, and it was so much fun to be able to share that with smrge, who seemed to really dig it. When he got up to use the loo, he planted a kiss on my forehead and I admit, I swooned a bit. Such a great night.(we had started by getting coffee at the Coffee Bean and smrge mentioned it was the best vanilla latte he'd had - and that's no faint praise - he loves his coffee.
It was all the conversation and loveliness of the food - of explaining things about the kitchen and the ingredients to smrge, being finally able to share it with someone in that way...really could not have asked for a better night. We drove home the way we came in, and so smrge got the nighttime view of the Bridge and stuff as well. Every bit of it dreamy.
Sunday was quiet, and we made a trip to Berkeley Bowl to buy provisions for making an old favorite of smrge's: scallops with bacon & brussels sprouts. Sunday is not a good day for shopping at the Bowl, and sadly, I did not realize the extent of how horrendous it would be.
Fucking hippies.
Dinner was yummy, we had a nice bottle of Layer Cake and then attempted to stay awake to watch early episodes of The Office, but drifted off pretty quickly. While the first night was full of tossing for me, by Sunday night, sharing blankets was like riding a bike. Monday, smrge was a champ and came into work with me, even enduring the BART merry-go-round. I plied him with baked goods, and he showed me how get the spill guard off my mixer to get it clean. Which reminds me: somewhere in there he also managed to clean up my computer's registry & free up huge amounts of memory, and also to find the code so that I can once again use my car stereo. Kudos to my big-brained soulmate. We got home late, and I made a quick stop at the burrito joint I found recently so that he could also enjoy a real burrito (one of the great joys of this area, imho) - which he also was most complimentary of. He also ate several scones (not that night) and took several naps, as one should when on vacation. I thought it was a great visit, and I couldn't help but cry when "Radio Cure" started playing as we headed to the airport, where I once again got very emo as we parted so that he could catch his plane.
I know there is a lot of stuff going on. I know that I probably should have been more cautious with my emotions - that nothing ever is a simple anything for me. This has always been the case, and appears it always will be. What I am thankful for, even if it was only for a few days, was the chance to share my life with smrge again, face-to-face and nose-to-nose and for it to actually be *my life* that I was sharing, not simply space. I certainly have all sorts of worries about what happens next - but I will not forget how good it felt to have smrge there, to be laughing, sharing discoveries (even goofy YouTubers that I follow) and being as honest as I know how, right then with him.
I'm a believer.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
this is the way it goes, and goes, and goes...
In the meantime, when in the Marina section of SF, dine at Umami. Ask for Taylor. Get the duck salad.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Not just any game either - we won against Spurs in the Derby - and with a 5-2 scoreline, AND we came back from a 2-nil deficit. Impressive work for the boys, and with both Bac and TR7 scoring (totally rare occurences, and actually, Bac has scored as often as the little Mozart has in recent seasons). At any rate, it was a 5:30 am game, and SMRGE was in the house, and we had spent the previous evening enjoying an epic meal orchestrated by my pal and former coworker T, (more on that later) which included a good amount of fantastic sake and thus didn't see the game live. Ok, I did roll out of bed early enough to watch the last 10 minutes of the game but we had already won by then so it was a little anti-climactic...however, later that evening we (yup, we) did watch the match in it's entirely and it was sooooo freaking good to see them playing the way we know they can play. RVP mentioning that the communication on the pitch was fantastic, to me, says everything about the issues in the team.At any rate, it was spectacular, and made even more wonderful by the full-on Soccer Sunday that went on at the house - we watched the Carling Cup final as well - great game for SMRGE to see, and man, what great performances by both squads. I'm gutted for Cardiff, especially since it would have been nice to go into next Saturday with Liverpool having lost the Cup on penalty shots, but it was not to be.
Next up, Wednesday at ours against Inter, and I'm as worried about that as I was about Spurs so...yeah.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
reminder:
Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after another. WALTER ELLIOT (1888-1958)
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
previously scheduled programming
As if the day couldn't be shit enough, I've gotta read that Dave Mustaine, he (once) of Metallica and Megadeath fame, is endorsing Rick Santorum for president. http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/megadeth-singer-endorses-rick-santorum-calls-newt-gingrich-164220697.html
A couple of things here: first, Mustaine's support? His endorsement? Is someone actually looking to him for voting suggestions? Jesus. Next, Santorum? Bad enough you identify as a Republican, you elitist second string musician, but you're gonna pick the young conservative christian who'd be the first to throw you in jail for any number of offenses, starting with the cover art for your albums. Mustaine is impressed that Santorum "took time to be with his daughter when she was sick". Sooooo, the main character trait we are looking for in the president of the United States of America is his unique ability to show concern for his own offspring? Well, that opens the field up pretty wide. I mean, so you have to have the natural instinct to protect your young, and bingo! Bob's your Uncle. Sam, apparently. It's not that I don't value that trait - it's that I think there is more to being an effective leader of the moderate police state we have going on right now. I also don't think that Not Being Newt is a valid reason to be the POTUS either. I mean, it will probably come to that, but in terms of using reason to endorse a Republican candidate it's a little terrifying. The fact that the most prominent Republican is also one of the most decisive is telling on it's own, throw in a little of the patented Repubo-loony-tunes Bible-thumpers, and it just becomes painful.
Santorum is so many flavors of bad that it's hard to even get the energy to go over the list; suffice it to say that if it's a knee-jerk conservative christian platitude, he foams all over it (hah! a joke, but only if you've googled "santorum") and that his staunch anti-choice, anti-civil rights, anti-anything that isn't in his favorite episode of Fox news and his own twisted interpretation of "moral values" attitude is bad news. But I suppose dimwitted metal dudes against Newt (DWMDAN) have to exist on this mortal coil for some reason, and it would seem that endorsing Santorum is it. Capricious god indeed.
I don't know what is more horrifying: the fact that Dave Mustaine feels it necessary to alert the half dozen fans he has left that he's a conservative Republican moron, or the fact that Yahoo news finds it relevant as news.
No, I know, the answer is b. I mean it's Dave Mustaine of Megadeath, you know, the band that isn't Metallica.Who, honestly cares? I mean, other than me, and Kevin Seconds who is currently taking on critics on FB right now who are accusing him and his ilk (that'd be my ilk, as well) about standing by and doing nothing during the Reagan years. DOING NOTHING. Honestly, kids, learn your history.
(insert stock Lars-bashing comment here. I just don't have the energy tonight).
Arsenal lost, and lost badly (that is we played for shit) today - it doesn't look good for when they come to ours in the second leg. we'd have to score 5 goals to win, and to be honest, there's just no way we're gonna do that against InterfrackingMilan.Even at home. Bye bye champs league.
((thursday update: our dishwasher, Renato has recently begun chatting with me - the subject: Arsenal. He is a Real Madrid fan, so certainly he understands the emotional nature of incredibly talented, but highly sensitive players - but it's funny, today he even told me that we might win against Inter in the next leg. From his mouth to RVP's ears, truly))
Then there's the homsickness. It was bad enough when I was simply marking time until April because I was saving money and trying to spackle my resume back together. You know, missing the family, the city, my friends, that sort of thing. The hopeful anticipation of being able to start a new job (I do love a new job, all the opportunity, the possibility, learning new things) - yes, I was bored, and yes I was pretty much just punching the clock feeling pretty invisible, but at least there was a certain resignation to the routine acceptance.
Now? Now I've got true love coursing through my veins again - homesick isn't even close to the heightened irritation and frustration I feel over just about every facet of my day to day rountine now. It's amazing how perspective can change everything. 8 weeks ago, I had no idea SMRGE even knew where I lived, much less gave a thought to how I was. I was not-especially blissfully going through my days fully accepting that he was happy without me. Sure, I fantasized that he might be unhappy and would somehow manage to call me because he needed to tell me that - fully thinking it was sheer folly. That it was just another little story I told myself to distract myself from the reality of having been thwarted in finding love with CG. I wanted to believe that I had been right about SMRGE, even though all evidence showed otherwise...until January 6th.
Then it all changed. It turned out I was right, and all the ensuing conversations and communication have been amazing and wonderful. Valentine's day (actually, VD-eve for me) was amazing, was able to put together a package of love for SMRGE that he appreciated just as I hoped he would. He brightened a day that generally brings out the grinch in me, by simply sending me lovely little things to perk me up - sunny, smiley roses (a plant! so I can bring them with me! they will grow with us!), a special mug to enjoy tea and dream of Time Lords with - just sweet, simple things to remind me of him. Which is great....
Except for the homesickness. It has become so much more now. It's a ticking bomb in my head - we talk every day, even if just briefly at his lunch break (my early morning) and the connection between us is so fundamental, so elemental, it makes waiting really eat away at my patience. He's luckily surrounded by friends - my best pals are 2.5 hours away. My loneliness is magnified in the shadow of our rekindled romance. The fact that more lengthy daily chats are made difficult or impossible due to our schedules only makes it more frustrating.
I mean, yes, I have some friends here - but they live in the City and I do not, and given my schedule, I don't really see them as much as I would if I didn't live in the 'burbs. My fault, I know.
The work schedule is a big issue and was the main reason I'd planned to return home in the Spring anyway.As easy as this job is - it's just too segregating to work this shift, even before this new development. The constant feeling of time slipping by has become so much more profound as I try and match my life schedule up with SMRGE's right now. I had mentioned to just about everyone I know that I feared I'd become a hermit working swing shift with only one other coworker (I mean, hell, at least if your are at Kinko's and worked this shift, or at a normal restaurant, you'd at least be working with a dozen other people who you could hang out with after work even if all that was open were bars or whatever. At least there were other people to talk to and have fun with, I have only the Gleek to talk to for the bulk of our shift), and one fact is screaming at me in this moment.
I'm so amazingly lonely, and now, lovesick on top of it. I mean, the good news, of course, is that I know now how much SMRGE loves me and cherishes our connection. The bad news is that being here denies me the ability to take immediate steps to begin spending physical time with him now that I know he wants to be with me again too is maddening. I am trying to behave in a consistent manner in terms of keeping actual life things under control, to treat my employer with respect, and my landlord as well.
I shouldn't just cut and run - but holy crap do I want to. Seriously. I have a pretty profound history of moving - at last count I believe I have lived at 15 addresses in the last 26 years. I've had 28 different employers since my first job in high school. I tend to land on my feet.
I'm pretty sure that's a pattern.
I also tend not to stay in any one thing long enough to get to settled. If I stay in the same city, even for 10 years, I'll move house, change jobs, whatever, constantly hitting "refresh" - before that was even a thing.
It's weird to think he's created a life for himself, been at the same job, had the same friends and stuff for most of the time we've been apart. Me? I've been the same old cork, bobbing along on the sea of life.
Dear dog, that's stretching a metaphor.
It's so fucking hard right now. And I know this is about perception, and I know that in a week, SMRGE and I will be nose-to-nose in Real Life again, and yes, that's nerve-wracking as well. It's been almost 10 years - and I do worry about the superficial things that girls worry about...though I trust in the understanding of him knowing who I am, what I look like, how I sound, all those things. Still though, getting older is tough.
My ability to maintain some calm and not immediately panic and assume the worst case scenario is being honed like a razor currently. Practicing Patience has never been so challenging as it is right now. Even as SMRGE said in an email tonight, we both share the same worries, surely (indeed every item on his list, including some random dental issues are on my list as well). So together we'll figure it out. A plan will be laid to get this tent packed up and outta here. Pronto.I just need to figure a way to keep my paranoid demons at bay - they are rearing their ugly heads and I'm so tense that I'm letting it affect me. Writing about it usually helps, so, yeah, here's that.
Ok, I am now going to go curl up with Jon Stewart and Ricky Gervais and try to erase the "news" that seeped into my brain today and replace it with some day-old current events presented with panache and wit.
Monday, February 13, 2012
el dorado
At the behest of SMRGE (and my own nagging conscience) I set
the Rickenbacker out of the case and placed it on the stand tonight – where it
admittedly hasn’t been at all in this house , (I have taken it out about once a
year, just to dink around when drunk and melancholy about a life once lived)
though it did live out in K2’s house and in the townhouse (where it stood
sentry in the extra bedroom, where Scraps chose to sleep at night once she
became too sensitive to sleep on the bed with me). I kept it out like a piece
of art though, rarely touching it. It was just comforting to have it there…for
a while. I had the SG out as well, and for almost 3 months, played the 3 chords
I knew, and strummed like crazy. I had to sell that guitar though, because the
only real history I had with it was entwined with SMRGE and I was in the
business, then, of un-entwining. Also, I needed cash. Two of the great truths
of musicianship, poverty and instruments as short term equity.
I would never sell the bass. It is…a singular reminder of a
time and space that I inhabit always. It was my passport to a life I never
imagined living, and even now, sometimes feel like it’s something I read about
once, or a movie I saw a long time ago. The history I have with it, is all mine, with plenty of guest stars along the way, but the memories it evokes are not bound to anyone else or place, just me, and it together. As SMRGE reminded me this
evening, an old friend who has been through so many adventures.
It is the only bass you see me playing in photos (though I
also briefly had a baby blue Epiphone, and also very, very briefly a Fender,
but both felt so foreign and I never really felt the need to have a “back up “
bass, so I shed them both in short order) – with the exception of the one photo
I have of my very first gig. My very first gig was opening for DOA at the Depot
in Arcata, California.
That show I rocked a ¾ size bass that was I believe gleaned
from a Sears store in Eureka, or somewhere similar. It was all we could afford
and enabled me to learn the songs a little faster. I played with DOA three
times in the first year I played in Agent 86….and then once more in Seattle…and
then never again.
((Joey is selling the DOA van (“Reid Fleming”) – they’ve had
it for 23 years. I remember (and experienced one of my earliest sensations of
dying while) riding in the step van they had before that. It’s amazing to think
about those times. Visiting Vancouver was one of the great early joys of my
punk rock life – visitng the World’s Fair with DOA’s manager Ken, and his
girlfriend at the time, Kris. Watching fireworks from Dave Gregg’s front porch
just across the road from the Expo fairgrounds. As we drank beer and talked
politics and did various controlled substances, I remember Dave telling us that
everyone one of the fireworks was the cost of a hospital bed that the government
was spending.))
The Rickenbacker found me wandering in a music store in
Dupont Circle in Washington DC. We had just relocated, and per usual, we were
hunting for a drummer and a practice space. I hadn’t planned to get a new bass,
but as I recall, when I was cajoled into trying out basses, it was the El
Dorado that called to me. Heavy, and with a completely different profile than
the typical Rick basses, it also sounded incredible through a Marshall, a warm
sound that I like to call brown. It made me feel feminine, that bass – I felt
like I was rocking a bigger instrument, that it could protect me from the
onslaught that might come. I liked that no one had ever seemed to have seen one
before. I’m a sucker for unique looks.
What’s hard about this is that…I have all these really brief
memories of so many shows, but not a lot of coherent ones. What I suppose is
most important is how comfortable I became with that bass, even if I wasn’t
comfortable with the actual playing of it. That sounds odd, right? That I was
comofortable with it, and yet not? Put it like this: when I knew what I was
playing, there was nothing better than making that sweet rumble, and of having
its weight around my shoulder.
So many stories, and yet it’s all fragments. What’s most
pressing right now, is getting back in touch with it – I have been considering
all the different things I did to try and ease the pain over the years, and one
of them was to set aside my personal connection to music in that way. My
appreciation and love for instruments and the people who create with them is
still alive and well, just not especially well-tended. That is changing, things
are reawakening all around me, and for that I am pleased.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
No, I don't fancy myself a molecular gastronomist or even a pastry chef who builds architectural wonders, and the reason I admire people like Chef Achatz is because of their approach about eating. About what it means to enjoy, and most of all, experience food. When I watch this (or any of the Next or Alinea videos that are uploaded) I am not simply struck by the beauty of the food, or the presentation - though both are, admittedly wonderful and certainly inspiring in terms of technique.
What gets me worked up, almost to the point of tears, is the intensity of the kitchen. Of knowing how much effort, practice and concentration is needed to execute at that level. To bring the concepts to fruition requires not only the most stellar products (the height of the season, carefully transported and stored) and technique knife skills that honor the product and don't waste the animal's life, or break down veggies into uniform and perfect pieces; using temperature to bring the item to it's fullest potential, (cooking, or not); being able to time everything and get all the dishes for a table ready to go out at the same time..the thing that I find most romantic about it is The Dance.
That is, the getting through the day, through prep, through service, through the breaking down of the stations. In any kitchen, it is a wild ride, busy action, people under pressure to get it done, get it right and get it out. The intensity is addictive, I find. In the better kitchens I've been in, when everyone shares the same level of commitment to the food and to the guest, it is particularly acute. We specifically call service a Dance, because usually, you are in a small place with several people, all trying to get things done with fire and knives and plates and people calling orders, running out of things, dishwashers darting around to pick up dirty dishes, and cooks locked in on their tickets, juggling 18 things at once and it literally becomes a dance as you negotiate your way through the night.
When I watch the video above, its the shots in the kitchen that make my heart flutter - to be a part of a team that is so focused. Surely it's as exhilarating as it is exhausting. There are some videos where more focus is on the kitchen itself, and what strikes me is the quiet - there are well over 35 people in that place, and it's like a library - and I do mean library - people are busy, busy studying, paying attention to their work. I've been lucky enough to work in a kitchen where creativity and focus were primary motivators, but it was a small crew and a blissfully large space (I had no way of understanding at the time how lucky we were working in a kitchen with wide aisles, skylights and room to spare). To watch the cooks at Alinea, all going about their work in what seems like a seamless precision - it makes me giddy. It also casts my current position in a shadow. What I desire, versus what I have. Having had a taste of those sorts of kitchens makes wiping the dried mashed beets off the handle of the mixer and finding the uncovered half-empty container of sliced red onions left amongst the cake pans by the guy before me in my station makes keeping my motivation a bit of a struggle. I know that my expectations aren't shared by everyone, and Life is not a wish-granting factory. However, if there are any wishes left in my queue - I'd like to use one up on being able to land in a kitchen with pride and focus in what they do. In a kitchen that has a mission to create an experience for the guest. Chef Achatz, who has captured the sense of whimsey and technique - has brought many facets of experience to fine dining, I most recently read that he was working on a way to incorporate music into courses - as you would with wines - different music evoking different emotions linked to the food being presented. It's the antithesis of mobile truck food, and yet it isn't - it's a way of offering an experience, unique and special to people, and I think it's an amazing way to approach it. I suppose this begs an Achatz appreciation post - which I guess was where I was headed...but mostly it's a mash note to the ideal kitchen. As I get ready to move on again, and find a new place to ply my trade, I want to reawaken my original mission statement for myself - and to keep true to my values. Currently, I am lucky to be working with some good quality product, all organic, if not always completely seasonal. It's missing though, that one piece - the vision, the creative unity of the crew producing the food. Without dragging out older, less delicate kitchen cliches (let's just say that Chef Bourdain's masterwork, Kitchen Confidential is just that, and for good reason) I want people who appreciate the idea that prepping your own mis-en-place is important: if you spend 20 minutes mincing shallots, you are a hell of a lot less likely to drop them on the floor or dump them in food indiscriminately. That's where I want to be. I don't expect to ever be at the level of a kitchen like Alinea or Next, but only because I got such a late start in this career - however, I know for a fact that there are hundreds of chefs in Seattle who share my core values - I just have to find them and make my case to be a part of their team.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
ping pong
In the meantime, this is just one more reason to love Ira Glass:
― Ira Glass
Monday, February 06, 2012
Friday, February 03, 2012
seasonal offering
Okay. The new cupcake mentioned a while back (this is seriously the first time I have ever demoed an item so far in advance - it feels like a million years ago right now) made it's debut yesterday - and apparently was a resounding hit.
Go figure, I was not as stoked as one might imagine (you might want to get a cup of coffee now, cause there's gonna be some kvetching for the next couple of 'graphs). Mostly because, while I'm happy with the idea, and the execution (that being a rare case to begin with) - I don't think it's a great cupcake. To be honest, in terms of taste, I thought the chocolate peppermint "hot cocoa" was far more interesting, and thought it had a better look. This, the "schoolyard crush" or "pb&j" as it was dumbed-down to for ease of use, is a simple vanilla cake filled with cranberry-orange jam, topped with peanut butter and the candy conversation hearts I made to garnish.
It seemed though, that not one person ever tried the previous seasonal offerings. Not one front of the house person, not one cook, not one cafe manager ever tried the damn things. They didn't seem interested. Same with the gingerbread, the filled halloween one we did where i made the sugar skull garnishes and even the coconut-lime, which is on the permanent menu now, I'm pretty sure most of the staff has never tried - luckily a few customers have made a point to share with me how much they like it.
Today though, it was completely different. I had a manager and three staff members all tell me how great it was - one guy told me it was "a yummy explosion in my mouth" (??!!?). The cafe manager, who has previously been a bit of a thorn in my paw about trivial matters, was elated, telling me she had "fantastic feedback about the new cupcake" which I take to mean one of the owners must have eaten it and liked it.
Now, I don't want to seem like a complete egomaniac, but of course they did. I do not cook crappy shit. Or, if for some reason i'm having an off night and i do, i destroy it and do it again until it is amazing. Because that is how i was brought in, it's how i was trained, it's why i do this. Nothing will get me to be a jerk to a server faster than them asking me if something I created (note i didn't say "made"; sometimes, i gotta cook stuff i didn't create, and it's not great. that's a different thing) "is any good."
The delightful (normally, anyway) Hector said that to me today, after his coworker made the expolding-in-my-mouth remark, and i responded as i am wont to: "No Hector, it sucks. because that's what I do, I make shit food for you to sell" and dutifully rolled my eyes. Is it really any good? Am I a clown? Do I amuse you?
It was not a very Buddhist reaction from me, to say the least. He grinned uncomfortably and backtracked, stammering a little, and I realized, fair enough, some of the stuff we bake is kind of dull (again, not the stuff I created, and I assure you, I am working my way through tuning all of those recipes) - so i relented and told him how I created it ("awww, that's so great") and that i made not only the cake and garnish, but also the jam inside - we purchase jam for the cafe for other uses, (not baking!) so that seemed to be a big deal for him as well. It's always interesting to me how differently people react when you share information about what they are eating and it allows them to appreciate it more. I had a call from another cafe manager, who also said that the staff had tried the cupcake and though it was amazing. A pattern was emerging - suddenly front of the house staff were tasting things! holy crap batman, we may have progress!
I have been mentioning to the General Manager for some time that I though if the staff were more familiar with the products they'd be able to speak to guests and sell more effectively. Apparently someone finally bought it. So, chalk one up for our side. Go BOH!
One of the things i miss most about a full-service restaurant is Line-Up. Just before service, better restaurants will have all the staff come together to go over the menu, any additions/subtractions, wines, etc. The kitchen usually provides a sample of the specials so the servers can understand the plates and taste the food, ideally so they will be able to speak to the customer with some sort of understanding of what they are presenting.
Especially at Lantana, where we had an especially fun front of the house, line-up was the best part of the night. Most were really into food already, and if they weren't they wanted to be. It was always great to set the evening's specials out, have them ooh and ahhh, and taste - answer any questions, and then send them off to the dining room to be the ambassador for your dish. Nothing better for the ego than having a server come back breathless about how much the table loved it, and could you come out, they'd really like to meet you.
Yeah, that's a thing that used to happen. Now, sometimes I'll be in the dining room doing my production plan for the evening, and a server will direct a guest to me, and they will tell me how much they enjoyed a cupcake or something. It's nice, but different. I yearn to be back in a busy service, adrenalin pumping until you're finally done (and as the pastry person, you are always the last one done) and then that wash of exhaustion, relief, and victory (if you're lucky) once it's over.
Sure, it's self-indulgent, but when your mission statement is to provide guests with a fantastic dining experience, and you do - then it's worth being proud of, I think. All I can hope is that we can move the cafe staff up a little notch in the art of appreciating food and understanding the effort that goes into what we, at least are doing.
Hopefully.
Go figure, I was not as stoked as one might imagine (you might want to get a cup of coffee now, cause there's gonna be some kvetching for the next couple of 'graphs). Mostly because, while I'm happy with the idea, and the execution (that being a rare case to begin with) - I don't think it's a great cupcake. To be honest, in terms of taste, I thought the chocolate peppermint "hot cocoa" was far more interesting, and thought it had a better look. This, the "schoolyard crush" or "pb&j" as it was dumbed-down to for ease of use, is a simple vanilla cake filled with cranberry-orange jam, topped with peanut butter and the candy conversation hearts I made to garnish.
It seemed though, that not one person ever tried the previous seasonal offerings. Not one front of the house person, not one cook, not one cafe manager ever tried the damn things. They didn't seem interested. Same with the gingerbread, the filled halloween one we did where i made the sugar skull garnishes and even the coconut-lime, which is on the permanent menu now, I'm pretty sure most of the staff has never tried - luckily a few customers have made a point to share with me how much they like it.
Today though, it was completely different. I had a manager and three staff members all tell me how great it was - one guy told me it was "a yummy explosion in my mouth" (??!!?). The cafe manager, who has previously been a bit of a thorn in my paw about trivial matters, was elated, telling me she had "fantastic feedback about the new cupcake" which I take to mean one of the owners must have eaten it and liked it.
Now, I don't want to seem like a complete egomaniac, but of course they did. I do not cook crappy shit. Or, if for some reason i'm having an off night and i do, i destroy it and do it again until it is amazing. Because that is how i was brought in, it's how i was trained, it's why i do this. Nothing will get me to be a jerk to a server faster than them asking me if something I created (note i didn't say "made"; sometimes, i gotta cook stuff i didn't create, and it's not great. that's a different thing) "is any good."
The delightful (normally, anyway) Hector said that to me today, after his coworker made the expolding-in-my-mouth remark, and i responded as i am wont to: "No Hector, it sucks. because that's what I do, I make shit food for you to sell" and dutifully rolled my eyes. Is it really any good? Am I a clown? Do I amuse you?
It was not a very Buddhist reaction from me, to say the least. He grinned uncomfortably and backtracked, stammering a little, and I realized, fair enough, some of the stuff we bake is kind of dull (again, not the stuff I created, and I assure you, I am working my way through tuning all of those recipes) - so i relented and told him how I created it ("awww, that's so great") and that i made not only the cake and garnish, but also the jam inside - we purchase jam for the cafe for other uses, (not baking!) so that seemed to be a big deal for him as well. It's always interesting to me how differently people react when you share information about what they are eating and it allows them to appreciate it more. I had a call from another cafe manager, who also said that the staff had tried the cupcake and though it was amazing. A pattern was emerging - suddenly front of the house staff were tasting things! holy crap batman, we may have progress!
I have been mentioning to the General Manager for some time that I though if the staff were more familiar with the products they'd be able to speak to guests and sell more effectively. Apparently someone finally bought it. So, chalk one up for our side. Go BOH!
One of the things i miss most about a full-service restaurant is Line-Up. Just before service, better restaurants will have all the staff come together to go over the menu, any additions/subtractions, wines, etc. The kitchen usually provides a sample of the specials so the servers can understand the plates and taste the food, ideally so they will be able to speak to the customer with some sort of understanding of what they are presenting.
Especially at Lantana, where we had an especially fun front of the house, line-up was the best part of the night. Most were really into food already, and if they weren't they wanted to be. It was always great to set the evening's specials out, have them ooh and ahhh, and taste - answer any questions, and then send them off to the dining room to be the ambassador for your dish. Nothing better for the ego than having a server come back breathless about how much the table loved it, and could you come out, they'd really like to meet you.
Yeah, that's a thing that used to happen. Now, sometimes I'll be in the dining room doing my production plan for the evening, and a server will direct a guest to me, and they will tell me how much they enjoyed a cupcake or something. It's nice, but different. I yearn to be back in a busy service, adrenalin pumping until you're finally done (and as the pastry person, you are always the last one done) and then that wash of exhaustion, relief, and victory (if you're lucky) once it's over.
Sure, it's self-indulgent, but when your mission statement is to provide guests with a fantastic dining experience, and you do - then it's worth being proud of, I think. All I can hope is that we can move the cafe staff up a little notch in the art of appreciating food and understanding the effort that goes into what we, at least are doing.
Hopefully.
profile of the hidden talent
Interestingly, it would appear that action does, in fact breed more action. Lately, as I'd been posting more frequently due to a recent upsurge in my hopes and dreams for the future (!) and as part of an overall attempt I had started in December to try and drag myself out of a bit complacency that had set in as the new job became normal, it appears this blog is getting more hits.
Granted, it could be just posting Tim Minchin's name, or videos, or linking to David Tennant photos, the Arsenal mentions, or maybe even a certain special someone doing some research...at any rate, the blogger stats aren't very detailed, and all the referring sites seem to be horrible pop up ads that are probably infecting my computer, but still, there's one bit of information that's kind of interesting. It would appear I'm getting hits from Russia (the former Soviet Union if the crap referring map is to be believed). So, this one is for you guys. I need to talk about your National Team captain and Arsenal midfielder (though lately relegated to the wing, which he clearly hates) Andrei Arshavin.
First off, I love the Little Russian for his character alone. His website (http://arshavin.eu/en/discuss.php?fid=15) and the "ask Andrei" section is pure gold. He is a funny, somewhat acerbic guy, and his pure Russian-ness is fantastic. It never stops being amusing. Few footballers have that sort of genuine, honest personality, much less an ability to laugh at themselves. When he was a student in St Petersburg, he studied fashion design, though football became his focus. He's a talented player, tough as nails (famously saying he "heals like dog" when he literally was playing with a bleeding foot a couple years ago, staying on the pitch to continue the match after having the docs just wrap his stomped foot up so he could play on) he's inventive, quick, and low-to-the-ground (ok, short) who, on a great day, moves like that Messi kid from Argentina. he's also the Russian national team captain, and once scored 4 goals in a single game for us against Liverpool:
That, however was 2009, his first year (mine too!) with Arsenal...and it hasn't been the same since. He's gone through a couple of dips in form before, but recently it's been really bad, and it seems the home fans (Away fans would never do this, I suspect) are booing him now. Terribly sad that the crowds can turn like that when a player has a bad run. Sure, they are professionals and should be expected to give 100% all the time - but what if this is one hundred percent of what Andrei can give right now? If he's as sensitive as the rest of the players seem to be, certainly the team crisis has affected him. Surely he's got to be wondering why we haven't brought new high-quality players in and instead seem to be trying to garage-sale our way through Arsene's last season(s). Or perhaps it's his homelife, reportedly he's never been especially happy in London (though he's said differently in the press last year)...maybe he's just sick of playing out of his natural position, no matter how brilliant Arsene's plans are. We can't know. But to hear any of our players booed, in the home stadium is disturbing. It happened to Eboue, who was driven to tears after fans went ballistic on him when he cost us a close game; and then slowly but surely battled back into the squad and into the fans' hearts as a sort of a wacky mascot/squad player, who later inspired the Cult of Eboue (when the fans would sing "we've only come to see Eboue"). True, it went back into a slump as the numbers of mistakes grew again, but he was never booed as savagely as after that first incident. It also happened to Alex Song, who was simply didn't have a match of experience to go with raw talent, and would make horrendous errors and would be booed...now, he's considered a linchpin in the midfield, though he still only scores the occasional goal. Now Alex Song Billong has songs sung for him by the crowd. For both of those players, it was early in their careers; however, with Arshavin, this is in his sunset period - he's almost 30. He won't likely go to a bigger club after Arsenal. He'll probably just go back to Zenit, where he came from, and it's a shame. There is so much potential in our number 23, and yet, it continues to be untapped. What will it take to get Andrei to rise, phoenix-like from the ashes of the last couple of seasons, and start creating the goals that he was known for when he arrived? What can we do to wake him up? Or will we just have to wait until he hits the very bottom of whatever unfortunate situation that is keeping his head out of the game (and him out of interviews)? Will it come soon enough to gel with the current incarnation of the squad - one where he should surely be at the top of the pack in terms of experience and talent? Here's hoping he comes back, because when he does, it will be a treat, that much we've seen.
Granted, it could be just posting Tim Minchin's name, or videos, or linking to David Tennant photos, the Arsenal mentions, or maybe even a certain special someone doing some research...at any rate, the blogger stats aren't very detailed, and all the referring sites seem to be horrible pop up ads that are probably infecting my computer, but still, there's one bit of information that's kind of interesting. It would appear I'm getting hits from Russia (the former Soviet Union if the crap referring map is to be believed). So, this one is for you guys. I need to talk about your National Team captain and Arsenal midfielder (though lately relegated to the wing, which he clearly hates) Andrei Arshavin.
It appears that I blog in the same way as Arsenal currently plays: somedays a wonderful achievement, a win that seems effortless and based in an innate natural ability that comes together to produce the desired result. Other days, it's as if an odd performance anxiety has set in, or a malaise that it will "just happen" if one simply shows up.
Yeah, the last week I kind of lost my shooting boots. It's not as if there's nothing to write about. In fact, there is a revelation that taps into one of my most basic beliefs and also causes (if that's a word one still uses these days) - the plight of Planned Parenthood, and currently, in light of the Komen Foundation's revelations that they don't support funding for Planned Parenthood.
There are few things in this universe that incense me more than the issue of Planned Parenthood being funded, and in conjunction the political conservatism that has made it normal to use the phrase "anti-abortion". Seriously. I have given up most fights, but this is one that really fucking pisses me off. As if anyone is "pro-abortion" you useless, bible-thumping control freaks who are so busy calling people names and fighting for the "rights" of the unborn; who you promptly abandon fighting for as soon as they become "born" and need the right to be fed, housed, educated, employed and see the doctor. I am not a fan of the word hate, but if there is one aspect of American culture I hate it's the remedial christian dog-and-pony-show that masquerades as a conservative political movement. Hell, I'm just gonna say it: something seemed odd about the Komen Foundation from the get-go, and I think it was the emphasis on pink shit to buy "in support of breast cancer awareness" - which seems more than a little convoluted to begin with, or perhaps the huge amount of money a person who wants to "walk for the cure" has to provide up front to participate. That's right, Susan G. Komen's peeps have set a minimum price you must pay in order to participate in their particular fundraising and awareness-raising. Because it'd be crazy to have people who only had a few sponsers and could only rustle up $300 to donate while they walked the 5k or whatever participate, spread the word and PROVIDE FUNDING. You wouldn't want just any old supporter of breast cancer research out there representing your precious pink ribbon now would you?
Also, if you don't set those minimums, how on earth will the office space and company cars get paid for?
It reminds me of Jim Bakker, who I have gone on about before. Even Bakker was more honest than the Komen Foundation, who takes money "in support of women" and then actively avoids ensuring the actual, tangible healthcare support provided at reasonable cost all over this country that Planned Parenthood provides. I don't mean to get too graphic, but damn, do you know how much a mammogram costs these days? It's no joke. Pap smears? Simple treatment for infections?
At least Bakker told you up front: you give me the thousand dollars, I tell God to reserve a place in heaven for you, and you get a timeshare at bibleworld or Heritage USA, whatever.
Dammit. I knew those pink ribbons were bullshit, and even typing this now, I realize I should sit quietly with it and reason out a better presentation of my feelings, but to be honest, it's difficult. I want to write something now. I've seen links everywhere, drawing attention to the hypocrisy that is the SGK Foundation, and so that's a big win for the internet. Word (via NPR) is there has been a donation spike to PP which is even better, and as much as it always seems to take something like this to get people to do it, it turns out that the bulk of the people in this country do in fact support a woman's right to choose healthcare options from several public providers. Better still, it also seems to be sick and tired of giant "foundations" raising money for research and yet mostly using it to sustain the foundation staff. All on the back of the people who have been affected by breast cancer..
There are other organizations this sort of thing happens to - but few are as horribly flawed as this. So much effort, so many glitzy ads, so much branded merchandise - is anyone really surprised that it turns out the only think SGK Foundation is truly trying to promote is iteself rather than the actual safety and health of the women they pressure into their pink-baseball-hat-wearing army?
For a much more eloquent and well-researched piece on why SGK Foundation is just another example of corporate greed using fear and guilt to raise funds to keep themselves employed, please go here: http://www.ginandtacos.com/2012/02/02/race-for-the-cure-to-being-relevant/
Yeah, the last week I kind of lost my shooting boots. It's not as if there's nothing to write about. In fact, there is a revelation that taps into one of my most basic beliefs and also causes (if that's a word one still uses these days) - the plight of Planned Parenthood, and currently, in light of the Komen Foundation's revelations that they don't support funding for Planned Parenthood.
There are few things in this universe that incense me more than the issue of Planned Parenthood being funded, and in conjunction the political conservatism that has made it normal to use the phrase "anti-abortion". Seriously. I have given up most fights, but this is one that really fucking pisses me off. As if anyone is "pro-abortion" you useless, bible-thumping control freaks who are so busy calling people names and fighting for the "rights" of the unborn; who you promptly abandon fighting for as soon as they become "born" and need the right to be fed, housed, educated, employed and see the doctor. I am not a fan of the word hate, but if there is one aspect of American culture I hate it's the remedial christian dog-and-pony-show that masquerades as a conservative political movement. Hell, I'm just gonna say it: something seemed odd about the Komen Foundation from the get-go, and I think it was the emphasis on pink shit to buy "in support of breast cancer awareness" - which seems more than a little convoluted to begin with, or perhaps the huge amount of money a person who wants to "walk for the cure" has to provide up front to participate. That's right, Susan G. Komen's peeps have set a minimum price you must pay in order to participate in their particular fundraising and awareness-raising. Because it'd be crazy to have people who only had a few sponsers and could only rustle up $300 to donate while they walked the 5k or whatever participate, spread the word and PROVIDE FUNDING. You wouldn't want just any old supporter of breast cancer research out there representing your precious pink ribbon now would you?
Also, if you don't set those minimums, how on earth will the office space and company cars get paid for?
It reminds me of Jim Bakker, who I have gone on about before. Even Bakker was more honest than the Komen Foundation, who takes money "in support of women" and then actively avoids ensuring the actual, tangible healthcare support provided at reasonable cost all over this country that Planned Parenthood provides. I don't mean to get too graphic, but damn, do you know how much a mammogram costs these days? It's no joke. Pap smears? Simple treatment for infections?
At least Bakker told you up front: you give me the thousand dollars, I tell God to reserve a place in heaven for you, and you get a timeshare at bibleworld or Heritage USA, whatever.
Dammit. I knew those pink ribbons were bullshit, and even typing this now, I realize I should sit quietly with it and reason out a better presentation of my feelings, but to be honest, it's difficult. I want to write something now. I've seen links everywhere, drawing attention to the hypocrisy that is the SGK Foundation, and so that's a big win for the internet. Word (via NPR) is there has been a donation spike to PP which is even better, and as much as it always seems to take something like this to get people to do it, it turns out that the bulk of the people in this country do in fact support a woman's right to choose healthcare options from several public providers. Better still, it also seems to be sick and tired of giant "foundations" raising money for research and yet mostly using it to sustain the foundation staff. All on the back of the people who have been affected by breast cancer..
There are other organizations this sort of thing happens to - but few are as horribly flawed as this. So much effort, so many glitzy ads, so much branded merchandise - is anyone really surprised that it turns out the only think SGK Foundation is truly trying to promote is iteself rather than the actual safety and health of the women they pressure into their pink-baseball-hat-wearing army?
For a much more eloquent and well-researched piece on why SGK Foundation is just another example of corporate greed using fear and guilt to raise funds to keep themselves employed, please go here: http://www.ginandtacos.com/2012/02/02/race-for-the-cure-to-being-relevant/
Monday, January 23, 2012
Love & Marriage....
So, yeah. Marriages end, or break down - Seal & Heidi, Russell & Katy, Blurb & Dooce, Demi & Ashton, Kim & Thurston...and what always sort of sticks with me is how it apparently can happen to anyone, no matter how "healthy" or "happy" they seem (or how rich & successful). I am, in a very, very unexpected place right now - a place most people tell you is a fairy tale, and impossibility. A place that some people do visit in their relationships - my parents even, though it was a far less protracted split/separation that happened after he had an affair, she kicked him out, he slept on the boat for a couple of weeks, had a bit of a think about things and came back. She loved him and forgave him, and trusted him when he said he wasn't going to make the mistake again, that he realized what was important and what he truly wanted. The good news is that they were infinitely more happy together after that, sharing their lives and interests in ways I had never seen them do as a kid. The bad news is that his history of ignoring his health bit them in the ass, and he was gone at 58. However - at least they had that time to be together, happy, and loving; and not angry and hostile fighting it out or lonely and bitter apart. There's something to be said for living in the present, enjoying the time you do have together, if you are able to.
I would be remiss if I didn't note the stark parallels in my own personal narrative right now. My willingness to bring my ex-husband back into my life is based in the simple fact that I loved him dearly when I met him, though I wasn't completely able to functionally do it, because, simply put, I wasn't too crazy about myself. Sure, in the abstract, I'm suitably enamored of my personae, my ability to take on challenges and survive. Blah, blah, blah. But, that sort of ends up making you a bit of a lab rat, waiting for the next mystery dose to see what the effects are. Doses administered by others.
It would be lovely if we all came to relationships all shiny and new. But we don't. When we are young, we are products of our parent's relationships, media input, of hideous playground hijinks and highschool pressure. As we connect with people and disconnect, we learn a little bit more, but we also put on a little bit of armor each time, to protect us from being hurt in the same way again. That's where it gets tricky for me. The armor. Mine was papier mache - his, lead. Mine looked plenty strong, but in reality was useless. His was heavy and poisonous. No matter how hard we tried to let the connection grow, it seemed our separate poorly constructed armor made it impossible.
In the end, people seem to split up when they just don't know what to do anymore. At the very least distance can give a chance to rebuild, to rethink. Most people, it seems just move on, find a new person to be with, and that works - I know a lot of successful second marriages.What I'd like to know, though, is how many people reconcile. Reconciliation is a risky choice for a lot of people - it requires admitting bad choices, understanding the pain of what you've done, but also, it can be such a strong foundation.
As I said in a text to SMRGEv2.0 yesterday it is "epic" - and he responded that we "are lucky for what a lot of people lack" - because - we've both been through some crazy bad shit and can share that experience. Having apologized and expressed his desire for me to know that he was wrong and that we did have something special, that's a crucial choice, a decision that opens up a whole new road for us to travel.
We can rebuild the relationship and learn from our past, how exciting is that? Pretty fucking exciting.That, folks, is evolving. It's learning and living and not staying in a morose spin of depression and frustration. This is about living.
The issues he deals with are his own, and I know now that all I can do to really, truly help is to live as well as I know how, and to share that with him. It's strange to be in this place now - I've said before, I had never, ever expected him to return, convincing myself that I had been misguided in my choice; that my ability to understand what was important was faulty.What is unfolding now is another journey, made difficult by distance, but also, because it does require more effort, perhaps a good thing. To fall into each other's arms again immediately, and not explore the ouchy parts of our shared history (and the ouchy parts of the history in between) is to possibly ignore what might have made it crumble before. Certainly, it wasn't my idea to split - but the situation was so tense, so angry, so fraught with miscommunication and almost a panic, that I couldn't do anything other than go along with it.
So I did. The thing is, and it is so scary and painful to believe, but it seems, now, to have been the best thing - for me, anyway. I awoke from a stasis I had been in for quite a while, trapped in this dilemma of what I was going to be without someone to define it for me, a dilemma I had been dancing around before I met him; starting certainly when I left Eugene and returned to Seattle in '94. I had let circumstance rule the day for so long - and now, now I want to continue to make decisions that offer me chances, offer ideas, experiences, I want to share my joys and my pains again with someone I, at my core, have always loved. The fact that that person is also the person who caused me to go through a lot of anguish and rebuilding, is actually quite encouraging. That there is a deep investment between us, it survived and is looking to flourish. It occurs to me as well that I very well may now be much more of the person he fell in love with initially. That becoming comfortable with who I am, with what I enjoy and care about - which are all born of the core experiences I'd had up until meeting him has got to enhance this new chapter. It's difficult to get it all down - but I'll keep trying, as it goes. As the dust settles a little and things fall into line - as I try and move forward my plans to get back to the place I love...
A few years ago, when I found out that Kev & Al had separated, I remember this crushing feeling of "wow, if what they had wasn't LOVE, then what the fuck is?" and interestingly, in another universal parallel, they are back together, performing, making art, having pets, and so on...all the things they do best. They seem to have that balance; the balance that is, obviously, so hard to achieve for most. They had to take some time away perhaps, to get the perspective. To understand what is important to them, to know how they want to live their lives together. To know that in the end though, they came back to each other for whatever their reasons are, is encouraging.
I am excited to be able to contribute to a new and hopefully better chapter. To have a chance to be part of the partnership that I believed so much in 10 years ago (ten....years....) that was mired in so much...muck. This has been an amazing couple of weeks, and with some luck I'll be able to document it a little better each time.
30 days, and counting.
Back to more Whovian-Minchin-Arsenal gushing, I promise!
I would be remiss if I didn't note the stark parallels in my own personal narrative right now. My willingness to bring my ex-husband back into my life is based in the simple fact that I loved him dearly when I met him, though I wasn't completely able to functionally do it, because, simply put, I wasn't too crazy about myself. Sure, in the abstract, I'm suitably enamored of my personae, my ability to take on challenges and survive. Blah, blah, blah. But, that sort of ends up making you a bit of a lab rat, waiting for the next mystery dose to see what the effects are. Doses administered by others.
It would be lovely if we all came to relationships all shiny and new. But we don't. When we are young, we are products of our parent's relationships, media input, of hideous playground hijinks and highschool pressure. As we connect with people and disconnect, we learn a little bit more, but we also put on a little bit of armor each time, to protect us from being hurt in the same way again. That's where it gets tricky for me. The armor. Mine was papier mache - his, lead. Mine looked plenty strong, but in reality was useless. His was heavy and poisonous. No matter how hard we tried to let the connection grow, it seemed our separate poorly constructed armor made it impossible.
In the end, people seem to split up when they just don't know what to do anymore. At the very least distance can give a chance to rebuild, to rethink. Most people, it seems just move on, find a new person to be with, and that works - I know a lot of successful second marriages.What I'd like to know, though, is how many people reconcile. Reconciliation is a risky choice for a lot of people - it requires admitting bad choices, understanding the pain of what you've done, but also, it can be such a strong foundation.
As I said in a text to SMRGEv2.0 yesterday it is "epic" - and he responded that we "are lucky for what a lot of people lack" - because - we've both been through some crazy bad shit and can share that experience. Having apologized and expressed his desire for me to know that he was wrong and that we did have something special, that's a crucial choice, a decision that opens up a whole new road for us to travel.
We can rebuild the relationship and learn from our past, how exciting is that? Pretty fucking exciting.That, folks, is evolving. It's learning and living and not staying in a morose spin of depression and frustration. This is about living.
The issues he deals with are his own, and I know now that all I can do to really, truly help is to live as well as I know how, and to share that with him. It's strange to be in this place now - I've said before, I had never, ever expected him to return, convincing myself that I had been misguided in my choice; that my ability to understand what was important was faulty.What is unfolding now is another journey, made difficult by distance, but also, because it does require more effort, perhaps a good thing. To fall into each other's arms again immediately, and not explore the ouchy parts of our shared history (and the ouchy parts of the history in between) is to possibly ignore what might have made it crumble before. Certainly, it wasn't my idea to split - but the situation was so tense, so angry, so fraught with miscommunication and almost a panic, that I couldn't do anything other than go along with it.
So I did. The thing is, and it is so scary and painful to believe, but it seems, now, to have been the best thing - for me, anyway. I awoke from a stasis I had been in for quite a while, trapped in this dilemma of what I was going to be without someone to define it for me, a dilemma I had been dancing around before I met him; starting certainly when I left Eugene and returned to Seattle in '94. I had let circumstance rule the day for so long - and now, now I want to continue to make decisions that offer me chances, offer ideas, experiences, I want to share my joys and my pains again with someone I, at my core, have always loved. The fact that that person is also the person who caused me to go through a lot of anguish and rebuilding, is actually quite encouraging. That there is a deep investment between us, it survived and is looking to flourish. It occurs to me as well that I very well may now be much more of the person he fell in love with initially. That becoming comfortable with who I am, with what I enjoy and care about - which are all born of the core experiences I'd had up until meeting him has got to enhance this new chapter. It's difficult to get it all down - but I'll keep trying, as it goes. As the dust settles a little and things fall into line - as I try and move forward my plans to get back to the place I love...
A few years ago, when I found out that Kev & Al had separated, I remember this crushing feeling of "wow, if what they had wasn't LOVE, then what the fuck is?" and interestingly, in another universal parallel, they are back together, performing, making art, having pets, and so on...all the things they do best. They seem to have that balance; the balance that is, obviously, so hard to achieve for most. They had to take some time away perhaps, to get the perspective. To understand what is important to them, to know how they want to live their lives together. To know that in the end though, they came back to each other for whatever their reasons are, is encouraging.
I am excited to be able to contribute to a new and hopefully better chapter. To have a chance to be part of the partnership that I believed so much in 10 years ago (ten....years....) that was mired in so much...muck. This has been an amazing couple of weeks, and with some luck I'll be able to document it a little better each time.
30 days, and counting.
Back to more Whovian-Minchin-Arsenal gushing, I promise!
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