Grey

The other day I reluctantly rented Side Effects. I say "reluctantly" because I've suffered terrible side effects from various medications and I was truly terrified that the film would put bad ideas in  my head. I think a lot of the "side effects" I've experienced may actually all be psychological in nature. Without spoiling too much about the movie, I wanted to share a quote from it that sort of blew my mind:

Imagine everything you ever wanted shows up one day and calls itself your life. And then, just when you start to believe in it... gone. And suddenly, it gets very hard to imagine a future. That's depression, right?

In August 2004, I thought my life was complete. Moments of infinity happened every day. I was completely comfortable about myself and had a future lain out in front of me. I had fully recognized how wonderful my childhood had been. I was living in the perfect state. I was entering my senior year of high school, ranked number 21 out of almost 700. I had the perfect relationship. The perfect group of friends. Everything in the world was starting to make sense. It felt beautiful.

Then on September 15, 2004, we sold the house.

Now, for a moment, imagine feeling like everything in your life was going to be perfect. Imagine having a plan for what the future held - what you'd wear for senior prom, what college you would go to, who you would marry, and when you would start a family - and having it all combust in front of you one sweaty afternoon in the bedroom you had for 15 years.

Encompassed in walls layered in purple paint from 1989 and surrounded by memories of high school, I was informed by my mother that everything was about to change. I remember telling Samantha on AIM. All she said was "fuck."

I can also remember letting the sadness seep in for a brief amount of time. I can remember sobbing until I felt like I would throw up. Then, I remember sucking it all back in and holding onto it. Never to let it go again.

October 20th, 2004 (10:17 pm)
current mood: optimistic
current song: the strokes

I don't understand why this has to be so sad.

I only cried once this evening, and it was while I was in Sean's arms.

Everything will be okay. I can't stress that enough. Everything will be okay. I promise.

Tomorrow I am going out with my lovelies.

I feel really good.

I lived in denial until we left. October 22. On the car ride to Georgia, I had no thoughts. I couldn't feel anything and I couldn't emote in general. I cried once in a while, but I feel like it was more about longing for the past. Because honestly? I didn't see where the future was headed.

I didn't know anything about Georgia. What would prom be like now? Surely I wouldn't have a date. Why would I even want to go? Where would I go to college? I couldn't just abandon my plans... could I? What's UGA? What's Georgia Tech? Would Sean really be there for me? I had dated my share of "winners" who wanted to have their cake and eat it too. Was he the same way? And why would I want anyone but him? No one could be better than perfect. I didn't want a country family.

Suddenly all my decisions were colored the black that was my prospects in Georgia (family? stability? affordability? scholarship?) and the white that was my past in California (friends? lovers? familiarity?), leaving me just to feel the grey of uncertainty.

And I couldn't imagine a future at all any more. I lost touch with my sensibilities, with my writing talents, and with my social capacities. My life had more and more moments of feeling infinitesimal.

The only solution seemed psychiatry. And a diagnosis that hangs around my neck every day like a relic. And endless amounts of pills that just keep me at zero.

Which makes me wonder. Was this a diagnosable disease? Or is the cure to not being able to imagine a future (nearly ten years ago!) to be to embrace the one I have since built?

Is this depression? or something mimicking it?

Smokey Chipotle Tri-Tip Chili

In my past life, I would have posted this recipe to my food blog. But my food blog disappoints me and I want to start over.

This recipe came to me this morning as I was pondering over what I was going to do with a whole pound of leftover smoked tri-tip. What a fabulous idea.

First, the ingredients:

1 tbsp canola oil

 4 cloves garlic, minced

 1 dried chipotle pepper, divided in half, one half chopped, one half solid

1 1/2 cups (1 pound?) smoked tri-tip, diced (mine was previously cooked and taken straight out of the fridge)

1/8 cup brown sugar

 2 15-oz cans tomato sauce

4 tbsp chili powder

dash of cinnamon

1 tsp garlic powder

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1/2 tbsp paprika

1 tbsp Italian seasoning/oregano

 1 tbsp maple syrup

1 15-oz can white kidney beans

1 15-oz can red kidney benas

1/4 cup masa/corn meal

That's a lot of junk. But it is yummy.

Prep ingredients beforehand, so you can just dump them in.

Heat the canola oil  in a large stock pot over medium heat for about a minute (just so it gets hot). Then pour in the minced garlic and stir it in just until it is fragrant. At that point, add the diced half of the dried chipotle pepper and continue cooking it. This will add heat to the base of your chili.

Once it's nice and spicy-smelling, it's time to add the diced smoked tri-tip. Cook this to a good sear - you'll notice the meat getting darker and all the smells will combine into a smokey wonderland in your pot. Then add the brown sugar to give it a  bit of caramelization.

Once that's nicely incorporated, reduce the heat to low and add the tomato sauce.  Pour in the chili powder and the cinnamon. Mix it all up and let it gradually get to a boil.

At this point, you can add the rest of the spices, including the garlic powder, the salt, the pepper, the paprika, and the Italian seasonings/oregano. Top it off with the maple syrup.

Mix it together thoroughly, then dump in the white kidney beans and the red kidney beans. Add the solid half of the dried chipotle pepper.

Stir very well, cover, and reduce heat to a simmer (basically as low as your stove top will allow you to go without turning off), and allow those amazing flavors to mingle for about an hour. You should also make sure to stir the chili once every 10-15 minutes just to make sure it doesn't get stuck to the pot.

After the hour is over, add in the masa and about 1 tbsp of water. Mix that in there to thicken, then allow it to continue to cook for another fifteen minutes.

In the end, you should get a very thick, very smokey (yet slightly sweet!) chili. And if you're anything like me, you need to top it with a thousand things just because you need an excuse to eat them. I'm obsessed with cheese, sour cream, green onions, and olives, so chili is the perfect excuse to eat them all at once.

Hope it's delicious.

Seventy-Nine

Lately I've been focusing on myself and who I truly am. I've been concentrating on my beliefs and opinions and developing my conception of who I am, at the root.

And I keep thinking back to you.

As one of sixteen grandchildren, I'd let myself fade into the background. I know we've never been particularly close, but we have always loved each other.

But now I must admit: I feel as though I've lived in silent awe of your character.

I see in you compassion and a steadfast faith in the goodness of people. You value others and see their greatest potential. You understand that we, as any sort of group, have the responsibility to help others achieve their greatest potential. You cheer on the underdog and also praise the lucky who reach the top.

In your own life,  you've made the best out of potentially difficult circumstances and you have always remained optimistic.

It is your unwavering positivity and humanitarian outlook that has inspired me to become who I am today.

I love you so much and value the influence you've had upon me.

I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and I'll see you soon!

                                            Love always,
                                            Wendy

Hollywood Forever

On Tuesday, Sigur Ros's crew sent out an email to those of us with tickets to attend the show at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery on Sunday.  They asked for volunteers who would be willing to share a short recorded vocal piece about a loved one that had passed away, to be played right before the show began. Naturally, I jumped at this. Well, I was selected, and, after a huge bout of writer's block (lol story of my life, amirite?) I came home and vomited this little bit out in about ten minutes. Then I recorded it (which was awful and awkward). But I thought that since I'm sharing it with a billion other people, why not share it with y'all.

However.

Some disclosures.

This is my perspective.

You may think I'm romanticizing.

Fine.

My family may think it's all bullshit.

Okay.

But I wrote it out of love, respect, truth, and honor.

Because sometimes I feel tremendously guilty for never having visited her when she was in the hospital. Because I was so selfish that I didn't want to ruin my last memory of my grandmother.

So here it is.

Beaches

I'm cynical - almost to the point of being a dirty dipshit hipster - and one of the subjects of my criticism is the beach. I feel like it's one of the most cliché locales/ideas/things in general.

Most people seem to idealize and to idolize the coast - or maybe I just notice it a lot since I'm from Southern California. 

But I feel like every other person in my little universe has some lofty opinion about the beach. It's relaxing, it's sexy, it's fun. My HeArT iS aT tHe BeAcH~

I have such a different opinion about the beach.

Or opinionS.

You see, my perspective of the beach varies wildly depending on - get this - what book I'm reading.

Hear me out.

My favorite book in the universe is probably The Awakening by Kate Chopin. For those unaware, the book is essentially about a Victorian woman's journey of self-awareness during an era of change in the woman's role in society. It's so much more than that, but the best way to sum it up is this quote: "I would give up the unessential; I would give my money, I would give my life for my children; but I wouldn't give myself. I can't make it more clear; it's only something which I am beginning to comprehend, which is revealing itself to me." Many events unfold, which are not as relevant to this AMAZING BLOG POST, but in the end, the main character, Edna ends up walking into the sea.

But we don't know what happens to her.

Trips to the beach that follow a reread of this book often feature me gazing into the Pacific and wondering what happened to Edna (lol, as if she were real). Suddenly my own trifling ups and downs seem tantamount to those of Edna, and I contemplate, if just for a moment, deliberately wading into the ocean. Wading until only swimming would save me. But no. My troubles are so great, that I would simply walk off the continental shelf - despite the surmounting salt water - and away from it all.

But then I realize that's melodramatic and start poking at crabs in tide pools.

Sometimes I read embarrassing chick lit. Not often, I promise. But I do!

With Emily Giffin and E. L. James on my mind, the beach becomes, in my mind's eye, quite the sexy and steamy location for a summer romance. Granted, I'm a married hag now (at only 25!), but I find myself revisiting those feelings of blossoming romance that I had in June and July of 2004 and planting those emotions on Crystal Cove. How fun it would be to sneak down the hillside (past my midnight curfew!!!) and roll around in the sand and skip flat rocks on the still parts of the sea. To kiss under only moonlight and to count stars above Catalina Island. To be young and unattached, yet so, so devoted.

I feel silly.

This weekend we went to the beach for Mother's Day. I got lucky - I got a crunchy mother-in-law who prefers nature over the traditional crowded upscale brunch and constant doting. Naturally, as we poured over those tide pools and gazed into the shimmering sea waiting for dolphins to swim by, my current literary companion kept reaching my thoughts.

Right now, I'm reading DNA USA by Bryan Sykes. I just finished The Seven Daughters of Eve, by the same author.

Pause for a sidenote: I'm a genetics nerd. Majored in it for a year at UCLA before I realized that the accompanying sciences, immunology and biochemistry, were extremely difficult. The prerequisite courses for the major effectively weeded me out and now studying DNA, mitochondrial DNA, y-chromosome DNA, population genetics, as well as anthropology and genealogy have been reduced to common hobbies of mine. If I could do it all over again, I'd enroll in an "easier" college, complete the major, and spend the rest of my time working on DNA analysis for Family Tree DNA or one of those companies. I know more about this stuff than the average bear, for damn sure.

So yeah, these books, in part, describe the life of early man. Each person on this planet belongs to one of several "haplogroups" - that is, they share a common ancestor with one of just a few women whose lineages have survived the test of time and natural selection. I belong to haplogroup T (I had my DNA tested - NERDNERDNERDOMG). In The Seven Daughters of Eve, Sykes describes the woman who "founded" the subgroup T as a woman who likely lived on the coast in the Mediterranean.

As we walked along the beach, I imagined myself as this ancient woman. What tools did her man make from the flaky sandstone that surrounds the coast? What was the best way to prepare a crab for dinner 10,000 years ago? Did she enjoy spending her time gazing at the stars, or even just looking at the sea, like we do today? Or was this just part of life?

I wondered if she worshiped at the beach. I wondered if she even regarded the beach. Did she give a shit?

What impact did the coast have on humanity? What impact did humanity have on the coast? 

These were the things I wondered as my feet were stabbed by hollow barnacles and while my husband inched away from the rising tide, afraid that his Adidas would become wet.

So silly.

Cat

I can admit with a high degree of confidence (and, admittedly, a low degree of self-esteem,) that I idolize my cats. They live the good life.

I find myself so enthralled by their world, that I tend to emulate them on Saturdays. Whether by accident or in a creepy attempt to morph into a cat, I notice the pattern of my day can sometimes seem to resemble the daily life of a feline.

Take this afternoon for example.

Sean - that's my husband - left the house to go to basketball practice. Usually, I get a little jealous and a little sad when he leaves. I want to be in a team sport! But I remember that I am surely unsociable and fairly unathletic. Today, however, I was content with his leaving. A migraine was encroaching on my day and I wanted nothing more than to try to sleep it off.

The silence was welcome. Sunbeams cascaded onto the carpet and the coffee table. I nestled into a crevice in the couch and simply lie there.

At the sound of a group of birds making their way through the parking lot outside the living room window, I peaked outside in interest. About five of them perched in a tree tweeting. What were these birds discussing that was so intriguing? I watched from the windowsill until my interest had faded.

Back to the couch. It smelled like fresh laundry. That's what sleep smells like. Clean bedding and warmth. The headache still loomed.

Just then a careless, godless, brainless beast pounded through the parking lot with a basketball in tow. No. To say it was in tow does not imply the reality - the beast was aggressively dribbling the ball on the ground for minutes. The noise emitted directly into my window. It felt like it was in the house. I was quite disturbed. I lunged at the window and watched with an evil eye as this individual just stood there. And dribbled. As noisily as he could. Noticing me, he ceased. I had won.

The couch again. This time, the noises would die down. Just the occasional airplane or rogue crow passing by would pass by.

I passed in and out of sleep. Stirred only by the strangest of dreams, I lie peacefully in my perfectly arranged sleeping spot. I longed for someone to pet me, but was truly content to pass the day this way

Eventually the migraine had been defeated. I woke up and recalled several batshit crazy dreams. I glanced up at Mao - one of my two dictator cats - and felt a strange comradery and a genuine understanding for this black and white beauty.