Snowtober

This is how I feel about snow in October (though I must say, I love books). "POO!"

Ventfest: Trivial Problems

I've been worried about my dad, lately. When I start adding up the unfortunately events that have played out this year, it's overwhelming. In addition to the deaths of three family members, we also have a verbally and emotionally abusive neighbor that's been threatening my family. And sometime between the time of my grandmother's death, and when her body was cremated, her jewelry was looted, literally yanked off of her cold, dead fingers.

It's difficult to remain optimistic about little things in the wake of such tragedy. In the past month, I've grown up more than I would have liked. And I'm not the only one; I've watched my dad grow in numerous ways. He's recognized the importance of family, and—as I understand it—has renewed his commitments to himself, his happiness and his family. And he's been rattled.

And all that is just his personal life.

So when people come to me to discuss problems and drama with their relationships or how they're so stressed and busy, I'm inclined to turn and walk away. I don't know where I'm going with all that, but it's overwhelming. Never before have I been so intimately touched by death. So pardon me that I can't be bothered with the superficiality of temporary inconveniences.

While I Was Out

Oh, hello there...

It's certainly been a while since I wrote here. I have a confession to make. I've been cheating on this blog.

What started off as a class assignment has turned into a genuine passion and interest. I've been blogging about organic food in Boston on my new(ish) blog, MetrOrganics. Catchy, right? Basically, I eat, breathe, smell, cook and shop organic food in the Boston metro area and—guess what—write about it. It's fantastic, and I've finally succeeded in creating a singularly focused blog. But at the expense of loving this one.

So, some catch-up work...

• I've been taking much better care of myself and living by the notion of loving myself first and others second.
• But I have been loving others. Remember those angsty, hyper-transparent posts about a certain boy who was unavailable? Well we've been exclusively dating for a couple of months now, and he's provided all the support I could ever ask for. He also serves as a guinea pig for all my organic cooking experiments.
• My family has been in shambles lately. Following my uncle's death, my grandmother just passed away a little over a week ago. That makes three deaths on that side in the last year. Needless to say, I've been extremely homesick.
• I accepted and started a new internship at Latitude News, an international news site/magazine that makes international news more digestible and applicable to American readers by establishing the context of the issues and providing parallels in the United States.
• I'm on the hunt for my January co-op! I've already been offered a position at the San Diego Union-Tribune and am waiting to hear back from (in alphabetical order) The Boston Globe, Boston.com, Daily Item, Farm Aid, Jill's List, OurStage Inc., Second Nature, Tech Target and TheStreet.com. I'll keep you posted.
• WOOF Magazine is up and running (sort of). We have our website and twitter going strong and have set our fall print date!! Glad to see my ideas finally panning out.

He keeps me sane and puts up with my freakouts :)

I Now Pronounce You (Wo)Man and Life

I've hit rock bottom. Somehow in the last week, I've managed to upset pretty much every person that matters to me. And the root of all my problems is that I'm working too much.

I've been averaging a little over 30 hours per week because I've been feeling the stress of paying my rent, of buying new computers, of covering sorority dues, of buying groceries. I'm working because there's nothing else to do and because I feel the dire need to be self-sufficient. I'm working because in some sick and twisted way, I crave the numbness that can only come from brainlessly folding thousands of over-priced sweaters for eight hours.

But the aftershock of all that work it whittling away at me. I'm not working out and I'm not eating right. I'm not spending time with my friends or with myself, and when I do have a free second, I would run away to my boyfriend's to escape the reality of my exhausting routine.

But I've come to the sobering conclusion that this is not okay. My friends have complained for as long as I can remember that I don't have enough time for them. For as long as I can remember, I've been working by butt off and struggling to beef up my resume. I've given 100% to too many things and the mathematical impossibility of that is killing me.

I don't sleep, I don't eat right, and ultimately, I'm not happy. Not like I should be at least. So I've opted to make a change.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I'm on a search for balance. I want to adequately balance my work, school, social, personal and love lives. I want to sleep and maintain my sanity. So I am cutting my workload in half, and contemplating taking out a small loan to help offset the deficit. I am trying to eat better and trying to give myself the extra tidbits of time that I deserve and need.

I'm starting an early morning bootcamp in a week and am clearing time on the weekend for my boyfriend and fun activities like apple picking and finally actually visiting the Athenaeum. I want to read for fun and write a letter once in a while.

It's like a breakup makeover. A breakover. Only, I'm breaking away from the former half-life that I was allowing myself to live. I'm taking myself for pedicures and sushi dinners when I feel the need. I am sleeping in later than 8 a.m. I am living.

My mom has always preached that I need to have a job while in school. It builds character and responsibility and whatnot. But "Alexandra's" mother tells her that if she has enough time to have a job, she ought to spend that time in the library. And I think both mentality's have merit. But somewhere in there,  I want to fit fun, as well.

My big brother says that I should do what I love, even if I've forgotten that I love it. At the time, it kind of upset me, but there's a lot of truth to what he said. So I got thinking about what makes me happy. And it's the little things... a good book, a surprise from a boyfriend, a text from a friend, a call from a family member. I like a clean pedicure and the slight discomfort of a full stomach. It's cooking and cleaning and running. I even want to take a spin class.

I'm renewing my vows to myself, to my life. I'm choosing to love myself for time and all eternity, and to practice what I preach. I choose to live and love and sleep, and to devote my time to all the people that matter to me. I am again married and committed to my life. Please, presents are not necessary.

Nothing like a pedicure to cheer a girl up.

Ladies and Gentlemen, May I Introduce...

Sorry it’s been a while… there’s a lot that’s happened in the past several weeks. I concluded my time in San Diego, I flew home to Boston, I worked (a LOT), I moved into my new apartment…

I also managed to shatter the screen on my laptop. And no, I don’t know how it happened, though I suspect I sleepily stepped on it as I got out of my bed. But suffice to say that Lloyd, my beloved and loyal companion these past several years, is dead.

I’m so tempted to write an obituary…

But alas, there is some sort of good news in it all, as well. Because I have a new companion. She’s round and shiny and lights up when she sees me. I’ve known for a long time that my next computer would be a Mac. With my passion for photography and my need to be multi-media-oriented, it was an obvious step. I had just anticipated that it would be another year or so before I converted.

And though the timing was rather unfortunate for a variety of reasons—mostly financial, I now have a new MacBook Pro. And her name is Charlie.

Charlie’s personality is already coming through—she’s intelligent, friendly, useful. And undoubtably stubborn (even with Macs, technology hates me).

She’s named after Charlotte York. Yes, that Charlotte York, of “Sex and the City.” She’s classy and intelligent and quirky, just like my Charlie. And she’s a sorority sister, albeit fictional.

So, ladies and gents, I’d like to make a toast. Here’s to Charlie and the beginning of a beautiful, aesthetic, multi-media relationship for years to come. Somehow it only feels appropriate to toast with a cosmo.

The lovely Charlotte York.

Foodie Diaries: The Art of Cooking

I was on Skype last night with my (amazing) boyfriend while simultaneously sautéing mushrooms and drinking a glass of wine. Though I may have looked domestic and all, I’m hardly the type to claim I’m a stellar cook. I have my fall back dishes (enchiladas) and occasionally try a new recipe, but I’m better friends with my microwave than my stove top.

I’m learning though. Every time I come home, I cook with my mother. The kitchen is familiar and clean, and I ask my mom questions along the way. It’s like a crash course in Cooking 101.

So while I admittedly haven’t mastered the “art of cooking,” I’m working on it. And I’ve learned a couple key things about what truly is the art of cooking.

• Keep it clean. When I try to write in a dirty room, I can’t think straight; my head is as cluttered as the carpet. In the same way, I can’t (or refuse to) cook in a dirty kitchen. Working in a clean space is more sanitary and less stressful. And honestly, it’s much easier to pace and control a meal if the kitchen is clean. Wash dishes as frequently as possible. Wipe the counters. Throw things away when they smell like something died. Common sense.
• When in doubt, add garlic.
• Be creative. This comes naturally to me, probably because of my mother. She loves trying out new recipes and ideas, and she calls her dinner guests her guinea pigs. Things aren’t always perfect, but it’s always fun.
• Wear an apron. Cooking is one of the only times I get the chance to feel super girly. I love hamming it up with an apron (like this “Cuisine Couture” one from Anthropologie). And then there’s the practicality, too. Don’t want to spill on your fancy cookin’ clothes.
• Taste test right out of the dish. I swear it tastes better that way.
• Don’t try to cook and host at the same time. Honestly, I’ve seen people struggle with this a lot. And there are ways to balance the food and the friends. Either (a) cook things ahead of time so that the most you have to do is dish them out OR (b) co-host the dinner. Having someone else greeting people and starting conversation takes the pressure off the cook. Also, ask people for help. Everyone knows how to stir.
• Take photographs. Foodie photos are the best!
• Have fun. This, for me, typically entails having a glass of wine or iced tea when I cook. It helps me relax and enjoy my time and really savor all the scents and tastes in the kitchen. And if a swish or two of wine happens to spill into whatever I’m cooking, then so be it.

So. Much. Garlic. :)

Foodie Diaries: Vegetarianism

To be or not to be… that is the question.

I first started being vegetarian several years ago for Lent. But because Lenten promises don’t apply on Sundays, I would head to Carl’s Jr. for a jalapeno burger (noms). Throughout the 40-someodd days, I noticed that when I ate meat, I had scary, oftentimes violent dreams. Something in the actual meat or the chemicals or something wrecked havoc on my body.

So when Lent rolled around the next year, I gave up meat again. But this time, I didn’t eat on Sundays either. And I kept it up. I found that after a while, I stopped craving meat and it actually started to smell unappealing to me. I always ate fish; it was my way of making sure I had enough protein and folic acid and whatnot without having to take supplements. It also made eating out a little easier, too. There are surprisingly few vegetarian dishes at restaurants.

And that all worked out well for me. Until I accidentally ate bacon and decided Oh, to hell with it. I didn’t make the diet change for any real ethical reasons. I wasn’t one to preach about the disgusting nature of meat. And I never read Sinclair’s The Jungle. I liked vegetables and didn’t like nightmares. It seemed pretty simple.

Lately, I’ve been considering taking up a vegetarian (okay… that’s what I call my version. Call it pesca-vegetarian or lacto-ovo-vegetarian or whatever. I’m not getting technical) diet again. I like how clean vegetarianism makes me feel. Meals are naturally lighter and simpler.

Currently, my rule is that I don’t buy meat. First off, meat is expensive. But I also tend to eat healthier and fewer meals when I’m vegetarian. I plan them more because I know I can’t go just anywhere and get a snack.

And yes I’ve studied the ethical reasons for why it would be beneficial to be vegetarian. Like how cows are the number one source of greenhouse gases. Or how 80 percent of the food the United States produces is consumed by cows… experts estimate that vegetarianism is the key to ending world hunger. When we consume a pound of meat, we’re basically consuming everything it took to keep that cow alive to mature. I know that animals are scalded and skinned alive, their throats cut until they bleed out and die.

I know that animals are crippled by their hormone-pickled bodies, their legs too small to hold up their amped-up muscles. I know that their cancerous tumors and infections go untreated because the USDA deems that meat approved.

And then there’s the health benefits… how people who strictly limit (or eliminate) their intake of meat are at a significantly lower risk for heart-related issues, high blood pressure, obesity, stroke and some forms of cancer.

So then why not be a vegetarian? That’s where I run into problems. The main reason is that it’s an inconvenience. People have to make an extra meal. People think I’m going to preach about ethics and green house gases while their trying to have their burger. It also means cutting out a ton of things… burgers, machaca burritos, Thanksgiving turkey. But so what. Everyone could use a few fewer burgers.

But I’ve come to a peaceful middle ground. Fish and seafood are in, albeit minimal (for price reasons). I don’t buy meat. But when it comes to “ribs or rude,” be that a meal out or someone cooking for me… whenever my diet might inconvenience others, then I will be okay with eating meat. Because, ultimately, my reasons for vegetarianism are my own. And it would be rude for me to impose them onto someone else.

Foodie Diaries: Organic Produce

If and when I can, I try to buy organic food. The problem is that “Organic” is just a label; it’s challenging to break down what that really means. According to the USDA…

Organic food is produced by farmers who emphasize the use of renewable resources and the conservation of soil and water to enhance environmental quality for future generations…Organic food is produced without using most conventional pesticides; fertilizers made with synthetic ingredients or sewage sludge; bioengineering; or ionizing radiation. Before a product can be labeled "organic," a Government-approved certifier inspects the farm where the food is grown to make sure the farmer is following all the rules necessary to meet USDA organic standards. Companies that handle or process organic food before it gets to your local supermarket or restaurant must be certified, too.

That’s all fine, but not necessarily why I choose to eat organic. I think there are many benefits, but the ones that justify my organic food choices are:

• Taste. I notice that there is a significant difference in the taste and quality of the food I buy. It doesn’t always look as pretty (because it’s, you know, a plant), but the apples are crisper, sweeter. The eggs especially taste ten times more delicious than standard eggs. You know how grapes and avocados taste better when they are forced to struggle? I think there’s a lot to be said there. Food that can brave the elements without pesticides and all sorts of chemical whozits and whatzits galore should taste better.
• Variety. When I opt to eat organic, I find I’m more inclined to eat a variety. I eat more local foods and, thus, eat seasonally. There are fewer “staple foods” because things don’t naturally grow year-round. So instead, I diversify my palette and find creative ways to incorporate whatever is in season.
• Support. Since much of organic food is local, buying organically helps support local farmers struggling to make a living (or break even) in my area.
• Health. Even if I can’t always notice the pesticides in standard food and produce, the fact that they’re there tends to bother me. My dad figures that his father’s brain cancer was due in large part to his growing up on a pesticide using farm. If I can avoid risks and eat healthy, more diverse, better tasting food, why wouldn’t I?

A Boston Organics delivery box.

When I’m back in Boston and moved into my (gorgeous) new apartment, I plan to start utilizing a program in Boston called Boston Organics. The company compiles bins of organic produce every week that they then delivery to individual homes. Patrons can choose to have deliveries every week or every other week. They can tell the company what is on their “no list,” things that they have no interest in and don’t want delivered. They can choose what percentage of fruit and veggies they want (half and half, 2/3 veggies, all fruit) and what size.

Then, patrons can also add on other organic groceries including staples, bread, peanut butter, even chocolate.

Price wise, I’m looking at about $60 a month for delivery every other week. And at first it seems steep, but that’s what I would likely pay at the grocery store for that kind of produce, anyway. And this way, I get diversity. I’m forced to find new and inventive ways of cooking and storing food. It’s a learning experiment.
…
Though Boston Organics makes organic easy, there are other (more involved) ways to eat organic. My parents in San Diego actually own part of a local farm. Many farms have programs called CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). There are more than 400 participating farms in America. Basically, farms cut their land up into “shares,” which they then sell to consumers. The farmers benefit in that they are guaranteed a certain amount of income for the season and the consumers reap benefits as well.

My mom’s program is very similar to the organic delivery: She goes to a local farmers’ market every other weekend to pick up a box of organic produce. There’s always a variety of goods (some CSA’s even have flowers) and a newsletter, which includes sample recipes or ideas of how to cook some of the ingredients involved.

Though most CSA programs are like my mom’s, others offer different benefits. The may give discounts at their farm stands or allow consumers to pick their own food from the farm. But either way, the programs encourage a relationship between the consumer and the farmer. It’s important to know from whom and where your food comes from.

Foodie Diaries (Intro)

For the last several hours, I’ve been reading articles on the benefits of certain diets, the health risks of various chemicals, the pros, the cons, the debate. And it got me thinking about food and the role it plays in our lives.

I wrote before about the important role that food has played in establishing and furthering my relationships, but that’s more about the broad subject of food. What about the gritty details? What about the lifestyle choices, the health, the diets and fads and favorite meals?

The fact of the matter is that food isn’t just a source of energy; it’s an art form. And so I’ve decided to try something new—a miniseries on food.  Stay tuned.

What I'm Reading: A Book on the Good Book

My past relationship with God has been one of many ups and downs. There are times we've been forced together. There are times we've been happy together. I've seen Him change and morph and I've been in love with numerous versions of Him, and he in turn has seen me undergo changes.

And now I treat Him like I treat most of my ex's. I respect Him, love Him for what he gave me when I needed him. I honor Him and keep in touch, but we're not close anymore. Not in the same way.

Maybe that's why I felt inspired to read Sarah Sentilles' Breaking Up With God: A Love Story. Sentilles was raised a Roman Catholic, but then converted to the Episcopal church. She "fell in love" with God and started learning more. She received her masters of divinity and a doctorate in theology at Harvard Divinity School. And yet. And yet she still couldn't reconcile the way she felt about God and religion with the things she witnessed in mainstream theology. And yet she still broke up with God.

Though I found the tail end of her memoir dragged a little (you left God. We get it), I related to so much that Sentilles had to say. Like me, she found herself in draining, toxic relationships (hers just happened to be with God). Like me, she had to learn to love herself before she could learn to properly love someone else. Like me, she was fascinated by religion and didn't see any problem in feminist religious theories. Like me, she believed that reading the Bible is about interpreting what it says in a modern context; it's about understanding that the Bible is not the end-all-be-all account of religion, and it is written by humans.

"This is what I believe in," Sentilles writes. "Mystery. Agency. Creativity. Justice. Accountability. Love." I can believe in all of that.

I'm not going to go off on another ventfest about what I believe. But I did find myself nodding along to much of what Sentille wrote. She argues that what humans love about God--His love and forgiveness and beauty and compassion--are human traits, human traits that we've then surrendered and projected onto God. We make them Godly because we think we don't deserve them.

"What if there is no grand narrative?" she writes. "What is there is only the meaning found in everyday ethics, in trying to live with integrity, in the messy, nebulous, complicated work of caring for what's around you...in trying not to harm another living being."

Sentilles ultimately talks about food, which is something everyone can relate with. She talks about the humanity of treating everything we eat with respect. She writes about the beauty of compassion. And, in her own way, about the Sublime beauty that is my version of "God."

"I used to sit on my deck in Idaho and watch the summer sunset...and I'd think about God.
"Now, I think about the sunset. Now I look around.
"In my search for God, I missed the world right here. Aspen. Lupine. Big Wood River. Red-winged blackbird. Elk. Mountain bluebird. Magpie. Sage."

I've never been to Idaho, but it does sure sound Sublime.

Breaking Up with God: A Love Story by Sarah Sentilles, $18.