people love me in the hood, they don't want me to stop

this entered my head randomly yesterday. and I've been listening to it ever since. and why should I be the only one to benefit from my spontaneous memory?

stfu

the people from Slumdog Millionaire?
those people who are the Dreamfest 2009 couple of the freaking LIFE?

they are dating in real life.


and far be it from me to want anything else out of life. because now? now that these people are dating? my life is complete. all those dreams about marriage? and babies? and changing the world one underprivileged child at a time? those are all unimportant if these two people are together. which is only a slight exaggeration.

phases

I'm in a phase. This phase is called Wanting To Make Every Possible Variety of Scone and Perfect the Art. I think I'm going to do this. Radina's has inspired me. Blackberry Spice scone. Apple Cinnamon scone. Banana Nut scone. It's the perfect variety of sweet and salty. I'm going to use this recipe and make scones my life for a while. THANKS, SMITTENKITCHEN!

Makes 12 to 16, depending on how you cut them

2 3/4 cup pastry flour (all-purpose is also fine)
1/4 cup sugar1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
6 ounces of butter, in 1/2-inch cubes
1 cup golden raisins plus
1 tablespoon caraway seeds -or- 1 cup fresh fruit of your choice, chopped
3/4 to 1 cup buttermilk (use the smaller amount if using fresh fruit, the larger if using the raisin-caraway combo)

Turbinado or sanding sugar for sprinkling (optional, not in the original recipe)

Preheat oven to 375°.

Place cubed butter in freezer for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, measure other ingredients (except buttermilk and fruit) and mix in the bowl of a food processor.

Add butter to processor bowl and mix until the butter and flour mixture are the texture of coarse cornmeal. Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a mixer and add buttermilk and fruit, mixing on the lowest speed until the dough just comes together.

Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead gently a couple times. Roll dough out to approximately one-inch thickness (I skipped the rolling pin and just patted it out with floured hands) and cut into squares. Cut those squares again on the diagonal, creating triangles. Sprinkle with coarse sugar, if you’re using it.

Bake on an ungreased baking sheet (mine stuck ever-so-slightly, so I might line it with parchment next time, though no biggie if you don’t) for 25 to 30 minutes, until lightly browned.


Any requests?

shockingly similar to pre-Europe, actually

gmail chatting that makes me love my Love even more:



Libby: i just heard god bless america and almost started crying

me: HAHAHAHHAHAHA
HAHAHAHAHA WHY!!!!!
You miss America?

Libby: because i love our country
yes. we really do live in the greatest country in the world.

me: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Libby: after living overseas i totally understand why america is so great

me: YOU ARE HILARIOUSLY CUTE

Libby: seriously
i can't WAIT for the 4th of July.

me: STOP IT. GET IN MY POCKET

Libby: ok! except i gained weight here so its gonna have to be a HUGE ASS pocket
but for reals, im going to download proud to be an american and play it as i walk through customs.

Welcome back to America, you Sasspot.

there's a hole in my pocket about her size

So I'm having this problem I like to affectionately call, "Chick Mania," which is similar to, but not the same as, "The Crazy".

I spent a significant part of my adolescent years dreaming about my life to come. What would I want to do? What would I look like? Would I even get my braces off? Would I ever stop driving a sicknasty Plymouth van? Would I go to K-State like my sisters? And what about Joe? (HAHA, a personal shout out to those of you who were my friends then. or who pretended to be my friend, when in actuality, you hated me.)

In true feminine form, I had intricately planned details of my FUTURE future. What would my wedding colors be? (brown, ivory, and wine; or yellow and stark white, depending on the season) Where would I get married? (in Kansas City at Colonial, duh, tradition) Who would be standing behind me? (depends on when you ask me) How would I walk down the aisle? (Coldplay--Amsterdam)

The reason I thought about these things was because I operated under the assumption that by the time I was leaving college, I would be engaged. That's what you do. You go to college, find Dream Man McGee, date them for years, then get engaged and have a candlelighting at Kappa where everyone gushes over how lucky you are and how glad they are that you found the one person that makes you happy for the rest of eternity.

oops.

This is what I'm saying: DON'T ASSUME. NEVER ASSUME. AVOID ASSUMPTIONS LIKE THE PLAGUE. I think God hates assumptions with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. Assumptions: Lion; Me: Unsuspecting lamb. Assumptions: open manhole; me: blind. Assumptions: dollar section at Target; me: me.

It has recently come to my realization that this plan that I made? is now an IMPOSSIBLITY. Am I okay with that? I'm getting there. Are questions such as will I have a paying job and will I ever find a place to live and what is a W9 and will I go back to Old Chicago for another 5 years flooding my mind and making me lie awake at night making endless to-do lists? ...Maybe.

The candlelighting thing is the biggest problem I have. As my friends have been getting engaged lately, I have become INCREASINGLY aware of my aloneness. I don't think that I am any more insecure than the next girl. God only knows why women were made for this companionship in a way that makes long to be in an intimate relationship with another person. Literally-- God only knows. Am I not happy for my friends? Hells nah. I love their loves and am so excited for their lives together. I just have to adapt to the fact that although I will probably get married one day (HERE'S HOPING!), it is not going to be on my time. Although I have my candlelighting quotes picked out, they won't get used. And I definitely think it is fine for me to mourn the death of this dream.

And while I may not get to come home late one night and wake someone up to tell the news, at least I have wonderful people surrounding me that I'm willing to bet will be around when I do have news.

I completely recognize that this is a creepy thing for me to do. Since I know of these people in real life, and I have many friends in common with them. But how could I not post this kick-a proposal that made me cry in Hale whilst small high schoolers are running around for open house?!





To my future husband: take notes.

kudos to you lovely kids.

Romantic Things Men Yell in Aggieville

HEY YOU. GET YOUR SEXY ASS BACK HERE!

uhh...what?

HEY YOU. GET YOUR.... CUTE ASS BACK HERE!**

me?

YEAH, IT'S OKAY, I'M NOT MARRIED!

oh, well...uh... I am! nuts!

THAT'S OKAY! I'M A HOMEWRECKER!




**Thank you for rephrasing, because "sexy" was the only degrading and objectifying thing the first time around.

TRUTH

This is going to seem like I have an obsession, considering the last post, and maybe I do. But John Mayer's twitter is the most hilarious thing I've ever read. Hilarious in a way that is mind-numbingly accurate.

Things to consider: "johncmayer: Robot wanted: must be able to brush my teeth and wash my face while I lay in bed, plug my Blackberry in and turn off my lights. $1200/wk"

you should read it. twitter.com/johncmayer.

2 artists I would give my left hand to see together live

sincerest apology

I'm sorry for seeming somewhat absent.

Unfortunately, somewhere between spilling coffee and water on my already-dying laptop permanently killed it. (I know, I'm ambivalent too).

I will come back soon.

And blog.

From a NEW COMPUTER! THAT STAYS ON!

yeah baby.
mara

haiku

"Mascara: Every Woman's Inner Dialogue"

Always a new brand.
"Make yours THICKER! LONGER! MORE!"
but do you? really?

I mean, MASCARA.
How different can it be?
....just one way to see.*



*because you better believe a little advertising and high quality fake lashes get the best of us sometimes. don't deny it.

wwjd

One of the biggest problems between God and I is that I feel He will talk someone else's head off and never once can I say that I have really HEARD God. (Hindsight is 20/20, and I can say that, at certain points in my life, He was telling me to do something and I was giving a firm NO THANKS. But never at the time can I say, OH, God gave me a vision, told me I was loved, yadda yadda yadda). I am FULLY aware that this is probably a problem of my perception and listening skills, but that is neither here nor there.

But SOMETIMES, I get the urges to do the SILLIEST things. And by silly, I often mean socially inappropriate, creepy and/or restraining-order-provoking. Need some examples?

• This lady I took an Early Childhood class from was such a wonderful teacher. She inspired me (She is not very good at being unbiased, but she inspired me nonetheless) to make natural childbirth one of my top lifetime goals. When the semester was winding down, I really, I mean, REALLY wanted to make a little card for her, telling her how great I thought she was, and how wise and all these things. I didn't, however, because who writes their teacher a card? I know now that it would have been fine-- ney, GREAT-- but it's easy to justify cowardness in the moment.

• My car battery died. (note: wtf, esmerelda?) So I took it to Midas in Manhattan and the guy tested it for free and said I needed a new battery. I could have gotten that battery cheaper somewhere else, but he tested it! for free! and was sa'damn nice! so I went back and got it there, only to get the notion that I should offer that man the Easter candy that I had gotten that morning from the MOPs lady. That is creepy. I didn't do that part. Just the battery, sir.

• One time (maybe I already blogged about this?), I was in a class where this guy was on the Interfaith council on campus. Christians had been presidents of the council for the last 50 years. and this guy is a Buddhist. He ran and got elected president for the club. Then he timidly and woundedly explained that every, single, Christian gradually left the council. Some right away, some later with every excuse in the book. WHAT?! Later that semester, we filled out t-vals and I wrote this long, blubbering apology, that was not even coherent because this MAN, guys! I felt so guilty.

Since, on my own, I am selfish and self-driven and desirous of every piece of Easter candy in the world, would you say that this little situations are ones in which God was telling me to do them? Or is it just coincidental?

sorry about all those commas.