I am double twelve, thrice eight, four times six. Twenty-four's an impressive number: divisible by one, two, three, four, six, eight, and twelve. LCMs: 2, 2, 2, 3. If I think of it this way, instead of as almost 25! which is half-way to 50! then I don't feel as old.
Tomorrow morning I fly back to California for the first time since last Christmas. It has been a couple years since I've had a dentist appointment. My hair-cutting roommate left before I got a chance to ask for a trim. I now have two mirrors in my room. And two candles. I found my frog behind my desk. My room is one of the warmest in the house. Two of my housemates made me amazing, rich chocolate cupcakes yesterday. And I made molasses ginger cookies. I normally don't eat much sweets anymore. Dark chocolate doesn't count. I think I can pack everything in my small bag. Christmas trees smell good. People are amazing. Difficult conversations are rewarding. I'm learning that breaking ice doesn't always lead to drowning or hypothermia. Sometimes you catch fish! I want to write more poetry. This snowstorm is lovely, but preventing me from driving. The plastic on the windows is helping. It's fun to eat non-pitted dates. Apparently I play the piano a bit like Jason Upton. Below 20 degrees and windy is COLD, and no one should have to walk 15 minutes in it. Drinking three glasses of milk last night - even though it was a small glass! - was a very bad idea. Oh, the gurgling! And other unpleasantness. This is why I don't eat dairy any more. But I like figs and dates and almonds! Living in community is a crazy thing. Complicated, but simply beautiful. Difficult, but rewarding. I agree with Christy - I'm glad the snow is keeping us inside. Nobody's super stressed right now. I now have an African violet to take care of. But Jasper is gone, so he no longer curls up at the foot on my bed and purrs. I think I saw The German fighting in the street yesterday. He's abandoned us, probably for other people who feed him. I find it ironic, considering the name we gave him, and what we call ourselves... I like having a BCP to use. I also like drinking mate, and rum & hot chocolate. Almond milk's good, too. I've had the sixth Harry Potter book sitting on my shelf for almost two months, and haven't opened it yet. But I read Artemis Fowl last week. Tomorrow I see my family again! And my trees, and my ocean. (Hush. I know they aren't exactly mine, but I call them mine. There's enough for all of us west-coasters to share the Pacific.) When you knock a bunch of rough diamonds together, you get sparks and splinters. I try to catch my splinters before the wind blows them away. This I am learning NOT to do: they stick in you and fester, or if they're big enough, make you bleed. Not to mention that what's beneath the shorn parts is better than the pieces that break off. Sometimes I like being cryptic. Sometimes random is good, too. I need to go eat lunch. Banana & chocolate cupcake for dessert!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Dinner Is Served.
After a long day of work (during a long week), I decided to make something effortful for dinner instead of heating up leftover rice and quinoa. Pleased now am I with the result of my labors. They were:
1. Yellow Split Pea Soup. Composed of: (rinsed) yellow split peas, water, salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, tarragon, soy milk. That's all. Verdict: Texture - too chunky (I should have used a blender instead of just mushing it with my wooden spoon). Color - beautiful yellow. Which seems reasonable, methinks. Taste - actually impressively good! I really liked it! It's sweet, sweeter than I remember green split pea soup to be. I find myself wondering - could I dice parsnips and add them? You know, like people put carrots in green split pea soup. Or put carrots in this one and parsnips in the green? Which color combination(s) would look best? All in all, this made a nice first course.
2. Grilled Chicken. I'm not sure if it's technically grilled when you use a skillet and a little olive oil. But it's not fried, nor baked nor broiled, and results in nice browning, so I'm calling it grilled. This was just slices of chicken breast, olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. (It's not that I don't use any other spices - I do! - but that tonight these three classics prevailed.) What's amazing to me is how moist the chicken is, and how tasty. Also a successful dish. I actually cooked chicken this way a couple days ago, and liked it then, so I just copied myself. Shameless and unoriginal. But good.
3. Chocolate. Topped it all off (after) with a couple pieces of French baking chocolate, aka dark chocolate. The best kind of chocolate.
That was it. As far as I know, gluten free! The soy milk says it is, the chocolate doesn't have any sneaky ingredients, so probably is. All easily found ingredients, almost dairy free (except for the chocolate, which contains milk - I'll cheat for dark chocolate), easy to make, tastes good. Not necessarily balanced, per say, but a little kale salad would solve that, no?
It's strange to be posting about food here. I normally don't. But in the past year, I've started paying much more attention to it, initially out of necessity, but increasingly out of a desire to eat good quality food. No gluten, (almost) no dairy - those are for health reasons. I'm writhing out of frustration with the nastiness of the eggs I'm finding at the stores - are the organic ones really any better looking or tasting than the normal ones? No!! This is ridiculous! And I look for eggs from healthy chickens - that's what I want, after all...
(Warning: short rant ahead)
But all the organic eggs are from chickens that are fed, guess what? VEGETARIAN diets! WHAT!?!? What idiot thought it would be a good idea to turn chickens into vegetarians? They aren't. Chickens eat bugs, maggots, nasty things we wouldn't ourselves eat, but which provide them with a good source of protein which ends up in the eggs as, you guessed it, PROTEIN. Which is part of why I'm eating eggs for breakfast in the first place. Chickens aren't vegetarians. Please, for the love of all things good, beautiful and holy, stop feeding them "vegetarian feed." That means grain. I don't know what kind - but probably corn and wheat (and maybe soy), since that's what this country has so much of. But you know what? Wheat kills me. Lay off the grain. Let your chickens run around and catch bugs and grasshoppers. Your eggs will look and taste better. And I'll be happier and healthier. Anyway. This is actually making me mad when I go to the grocery store. I keep looking for free-range eggs, but every single last one of them have this stupid vegetarian diet thing. (Oxymoron, no? If your chickens are truly free-range, they won't be eating vegetarian. I don't trust your stupid labels. Free range, my sore foot! You mean they theoretically can go outside, but are essentially trained not to, since all the food is inside. Sigh.)
Now, I don't have anything against vegetarians or vegetarianism. But for chickens? Perhaps, if you stretch the "you are what you eat" metaphor in this direction, then eating omnivorous chickens makes the eater of their eggs omnivorous. So if you want to be uber-strict, you'd need vegetarian hens. But I'm not vegetarian. And I really don't like feeding them a ton of grain (especially grains they wouldn't eat if we didn't essentially force them to eat). Especially since I can't eat gluten, and in all likelihood those hens are eating gluten. Does that gluten end up in their eggs? I don't know, honestly. I certainly hope not! It makes me wonder... But not enough to stop eating them. I need protein for breakfast, and what other source do I have? I can't eat cheese, nuts are too expensive to eat every day for breakfast, I'm not going to eat meat that often, and I don't want even more grains.
Oy. Moving on. Eating ignorantly is so much easier and simpler! By the way, have you ever tried kvass? I wonder what the equivalent of pomegranate juice would taste like? Elixir of the gods, most likely. But so expensive!
Time for another piece of chocolate, some more book-reading (The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan. Affecting me? Yes. Do I mind? Not terribly much. I've been heading that way anyhow), and possibly puzzle, then bed. Yes, bed... and sleep... mmm. G'night!
1. Yellow Split Pea Soup. Composed of: (rinsed) yellow split peas, water, salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, tarragon, soy milk. That's all. Verdict: Texture - too chunky (I should have used a blender instead of just mushing it with my wooden spoon). Color - beautiful yellow. Which seems reasonable, methinks. Taste - actually impressively good! I really liked it! It's sweet, sweeter than I remember green split pea soup to be. I find myself wondering - could I dice parsnips and add them? You know, like people put carrots in green split pea soup. Or put carrots in this one and parsnips in the green? Which color combination(s) would look best? All in all, this made a nice first course.
2. Grilled Chicken. I'm not sure if it's technically grilled when you use a skillet and a little olive oil. But it's not fried, nor baked nor broiled, and results in nice browning, so I'm calling it grilled. This was just slices of chicken breast, olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. (It's not that I don't use any other spices - I do! - but that tonight these three classics prevailed.) What's amazing to me is how moist the chicken is, and how tasty. Also a successful dish. I actually cooked chicken this way a couple days ago, and liked it then, so I just copied myself. Shameless and unoriginal. But good.
3. Chocolate. Topped it all off (after) with a couple pieces of French baking chocolate, aka dark chocolate. The best kind of chocolate.
That was it. As far as I know, gluten free! The soy milk says it is, the chocolate doesn't have any sneaky ingredients, so probably is. All easily found ingredients, almost dairy free (except for the chocolate, which contains milk - I'll cheat for dark chocolate), easy to make, tastes good. Not necessarily balanced, per say, but a little kale salad would solve that, no?
It's strange to be posting about food here. I normally don't. But in the past year, I've started paying much more attention to it, initially out of necessity, but increasingly out of a desire to eat good quality food. No gluten, (almost) no dairy - those are for health reasons. I'm writhing out of frustration with the nastiness of the eggs I'm finding at the stores - are the organic ones really any better looking or tasting than the normal ones? No!! This is ridiculous! And I look for eggs from healthy chickens - that's what I want, after all...
(Warning: short rant ahead)
But all the organic eggs are from chickens that are fed, guess what? VEGETARIAN diets! WHAT!?!? What idiot thought it would be a good idea to turn chickens into vegetarians? They aren't. Chickens eat bugs, maggots, nasty things we wouldn't ourselves eat, but which provide them with a good source of protein which ends up in the eggs as, you guessed it, PROTEIN. Which is part of why I'm eating eggs for breakfast in the first place. Chickens aren't vegetarians. Please, for the love of all things good, beautiful and holy, stop feeding them "vegetarian feed." That means grain. I don't know what kind - but probably corn and wheat (and maybe soy), since that's what this country has so much of. But you know what? Wheat kills me. Lay off the grain. Let your chickens run around and catch bugs and grasshoppers. Your eggs will look and taste better. And I'll be happier and healthier. Anyway. This is actually making me mad when I go to the grocery store. I keep looking for free-range eggs, but every single last one of them have this stupid vegetarian diet thing. (Oxymoron, no? If your chickens are truly free-range, they won't be eating vegetarian. I don't trust your stupid labels. Free range, my sore foot! You mean they theoretically can go outside, but are essentially trained not to, since all the food is inside. Sigh.)
Now, I don't have anything against vegetarians or vegetarianism. But for chickens? Perhaps, if you stretch the "you are what you eat" metaphor in this direction, then eating omnivorous chickens makes the eater of their eggs omnivorous. So if you want to be uber-strict, you'd need vegetarian hens. But I'm not vegetarian. And I really don't like feeding them a ton of grain (especially grains they wouldn't eat if we didn't essentially force them to eat). Especially since I can't eat gluten, and in all likelihood those hens are eating gluten. Does that gluten end up in their eggs? I don't know, honestly. I certainly hope not! It makes me wonder... But not enough to stop eating them. I need protein for breakfast, and what other source do I have? I can't eat cheese, nuts are too expensive to eat every day for breakfast, I'm not going to eat meat that often, and I don't want even more grains.
Oy. Moving on. Eating ignorantly is so much easier and simpler! By the way, have you ever tried kvass? I wonder what the equivalent of pomegranate juice would taste like? Elixir of the gods, most likely. But so expensive!
Time for another piece of chocolate, some more book-reading (The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan. Affecting me? Yes. Do I mind? Not terribly much. I've been heading that way anyhow), and possibly puzzle, then bed. Yes, bed... and sleep... mmm. G'night!
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
another blast from the past
This is another poem from August. Or rather, a thought-poem. It's really more of a thought than a poem, but regardless of what it is, here it is.
Freedom is not emptiness
or not-knowing or non-being.
If you are thirsty, and have
nothing
to drink,
that is not freedom.
But when I have a full cup,
and I share it with you,
we both
are free
while the sharing lasts.
So if I give you me, and
You
give me You,
we are both free
as long as we both are.
Freedom is not emptiness
or not-knowing or non-being.
If you are thirsty, and have
nothing
to drink,
that is not freedom.
But when I have a full cup,
and I share it with you,
we both
are free
while the sharing lasts.
So if I give you me, and
You
give me You,
we are both free
as long as we both are.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
A Poem About Bees
(From August 5th. First, a bit about bees. Then, a snippet regarding infinity and the universe.)
Maybe
one bee dances differently than the others
and shifts
their monochromatic expression into polyphony
Perhaps
their pattern, disrupted, fuses inward
until,
too tightly wound the movement catches and
explodes
into a cacophonic impression of reality
But this
electric seeming simply confuses the idea -
mixes
caustic sound with heavy echolalic spaces -
till full,
the ceilings shatter, and disillusioned, the bees die.
If you count high enough,
the universe will explode.
The stars can't hold the numbers
past what they share light with.
Finitude won't contain
more than itself:
It will strain, stretch, and eventually
burst into nothingness.
Maybe
one bee dances differently than the others
and shifts
their monochromatic expression into polyphony
Perhaps
their pattern, disrupted, fuses inward
until,
too tightly wound the movement catches and
explodes
into a cacophonic impression of reality
But this
electric seeming simply confuses the idea -
mixes
caustic sound with heavy echolalic spaces -
till full,
the ceilings shatter, and disillusioned, the bees die.
If you count high enough,
the universe will explode.
The stars can't hold the numbers
past what they share light with.
Finitude won't contain
more than itself:
It will strain, stretch, and eventually
burst into nothingness.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
'nother poetic bit
This is from a trip to the park a couple weeks ago. It's still definitely a draft. But better than the others from that day. It has no title yet.
In this turgid summer
birds chirping and slow blue waters
cover over a multitude of sins.
The blue sky bears thunder and rain
between its fingers;
grassy lawns conceal biters and scratchers
and garbage from a desolated picnic;
tanned skin and hard muscles betray
taut circumstances
with a twitch or excessive attention
to detail.
This calm swelters
and under the heat
we putrify.
(But nobody seems to notice
because we all, guilty, fear
to be found.)
In this turgid summer
birds chirping and slow blue waters
cover over a multitude of sins.
The blue sky bears thunder and rain
between its fingers;
grassy lawns conceal biters and scratchers
and garbage from a desolated picnic;
tanned skin and hard muscles betray
taut circumstances
with a twitch or excessive attention
to detail.
This calm swelters
and under the heat
we putrify.
(But nobody seems to notice
because we all, guilty, fear
to be found.)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
from this afternoon
Now is the time
for the lines to grow clear.
Flames are licking
at the feet of all people,
and we walk on razors,
but the gospel of peace
dulls their edges,
damps their heat,
and the lovers of Christ
walk unscorched,
unbled.
for the lines to grow clear.
Flames are licking
at the feet of all people,
and we walk on razors,
but the gospel of peace
dulls their edges,
damps their heat,
and the lovers of Christ
walk unscorched,
unbled.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Last Days have turned into the First Days
Indeed, it is as they say: the end is merely a disguised beginning.
Undergraduate study has slithered and plummeted into my past. Exams: over; papers: complete; pop quizzes: nevermore. The end hid itself in frenetic typing, which edged my black robe with gold. My name, accompanied by more honors than I hoped for, rung strongly out to my listening family and friends. The tassel switched sides. Polite applause reddened my hands. Flowers delivered themselves into my hands, along with hugs and smiles and pictures. A wonderful end, but an end nonetheless.
Then, for 10 days, I lived for fellowship and prayer. Northfield, Massachusetts, soothed my tired eyes, pulling them to green ridges and hazed horizons. Clattering knives and pots accompanied laughing voices in a large, joyful kitchen. Silence and dancing bounded days full of changes and peace. Those 10 days of prayer were a perfect boundary - or transition? - between then and now. I can think of no better way to spend 10 days.
Now, I live in Beverly. My most recent past, Gordon College, sits a stone's throw away. I live in a house of young people. That we are all affiliated with Gordon is coincidental. For the summer, I dwell in my own room. I get to paint the walls a colour of my choosing for the first time in my life. Since I do not yet have work, I get the fun of being around the house all day. I love these people. I'm glad I do not know exactly what will happen this coming year, since that gives me the option of eager expectation. There will be laughter, that I know. And adventures, conversations, exercise, and growth. May God guide us and bless us!
To put the last few months quite simply, I shall say this: These are the days the LORD has made. In them are His teachings and blessings. How can we help but rejoice in them?
Living is good.
Undergraduate study has slithered and plummeted into my past. Exams: over; papers: complete; pop quizzes: nevermore. The end hid itself in frenetic typing, which edged my black robe with gold. My name, accompanied by more honors than I hoped for, rung strongly out to my listening family and friends. The tassel switched sides. Polite applause reddened my hands. Flowers delivered themselves into my hands, along with hugs and smiles and pictures. A wonderful end, but an end nonetheless.
Then, for 10 days, I lived for fellowship and prayer. Northfield, Massachusetts, soothed my tired eyes, pulling them to green ridges and hazed horizons. Clattering knives and pots accompanied laughing voices in a large, joyful kitchen. Silence and dancing bounded days full of changes and peace. Those 10 days of prayer were a perfect boundary - or transition? - between then and now. I can think of no better way to spend 10 days.
Now, I live in Beverly. My most recent past, Gordon College, sits a stone's throw away. I live in a house of young people. That we are all affiliated with Gordon is coincidental. For the summer, I dwell in my own room. I get to paint the walls a colour of my choosing for the first time in my life. Since I do not yet have work, I get the fun of being around the house all day. I love these people. I'm glad I do not know exactly what will happen this coming year, since that gives me the option of eager expectation. There will be laughter, that I know. And adventures, conversations, exercise, and growth. May God guide us and bless us!
To put the last few months quite simply, I shall say this: These are the days the LORD has made. In them are His teachings and blessings. How can we help but rejoice in them?
Living is good.
Monday, March 09, 2009
today - haiku(s)
falling snow covered
potential independence
with housebound stillness
i've done this before -
baked this bread, read this same book -
but it's not the same
wait for it... and keep
waiting... until either shades
fall down or eyes open
i sometimes wonder
whether i would be better
understood by loons
if i could write a
poem that embodied you, i'd
keep it my secret
potential independence
with housebound stillness
i've done this before -
baked this bread, read this same book -
but it's not the same
wait for it... and keep
waiting... until either shades
fall down or eyes open
i sometimes wonder
whether i would be better
understood by loons
if i could write a
poem that embodied you, i'd
keep it my secret
Sunday, January 18, 2009
the last one begins... with white
Another semester has begun, this one my last.
Last night it snowed, and most of the day, burying the trees, land, cars, buildings, universe in thick piles of frosting. The world looks different, cleaner, magical, new, beautiful and full of hope. It's not as cold as it has been; odd how snow is warm!
This semester will be busy, perhaps excruciatingly so, but I chose this for myself, and believe I will enjoy all my studies. It will be creative and analytical, compelling and frustrating, but all fascinating, I think. We shall see. However it turns out, I am determined to enjoy what I can, learn what I can, and be faithful in my work without abandoning or ignoring friends.
This snowfall helps. To begin with snow, with gentle, large-flaked sugar floating down from the glowing sky, raises my hopes and silences my worries. With a world this beautiful, what have I to fear? If something as little as a snowstorm transforms bare trees into organic masterpieces, how much more does one crazy semester of study have the potential to turn little old me into something better?
On with the poems! On with the fairy and fantasy stories! On with the philosophy! On with the art! Let the games begin...
Last night it snowed, and most of the day, burying the trees, land, cars, buildings, universe in thick piles of frosting. The world looks different, cleaner, magical, new, beautiful and full of hope. It's not as cold as it has been; odd how snow is warm!
This semester will be busy, perhaps excruciatingly so, but I chose this for myself, and believe I will enjoy all my studies. It will be creative and analytical, compelling and frustrating, but all fascinating, I think. We shall see. However it turns out, I am determined to enjoy what I can, learn what I can, and be faithful in my work without abandoning or ignoring friends.
This snowfall helps. To begin with snow, with gentle, large-flaked sugar floating down from the glowing sky, raises my hopes and silences my worries. With a world this beautiful, what have I to fear? If something as little as a snowstorm transforms bare trees into organic masterpieces, how much more does one crazy semester of study have the potential to turn little old me into something better?
On with the poems! On with the fairy and fantasy stories! On with the philosophy! On with the art! Let the games begin...
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