I believe the winter malaise has finally hit me, and I am not pleased. This feeling that I could nap at any given moment of the day is terribly bothersome, as is my contentment with sitting around, not getting anything accomplished. As much as I enjoy cuddling up with hot cocoa, a blanket and a movie, I'm aching to be outside. I'm starting to bore myself! And I care not to imagine how I'm coming off to you, dear friends. I feel I should apologize for holing up so much.
I need motivation, and truth be told, I think it will come in the form of sunlight and greenery. No more slipping on treacherous, icy sidewalks, or shivering in bed because the radiator isn't working! No more freezing winds and suffocating layers of clothing! Give me grass, sunshine, open windows, and temperatures above 50! Sandals, t-shirts, skirts and sundresses! Frisbee at Deering Field, Cubs games, barbecues, picnics, excursions around the city without fear of frostbite or windburn! Am I missing anything?
I beg of you, bring these to me, quickly. I don't know how much longer I can stand feeling like a hibernating bear.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Chef Laura Presents
Roast Beef with Peppers, Onions, and Potatoes; Mushroom Polenta
For the beef and veggies:
-2 1/2 pounds eye-of-round roast beef (not terribly important, I believe I used rump round)
-3 red bell peppers, 2 yellow bell peppers, 1 medium red onion, and 3/4 pound new potatoes cut into 1-inch chunks
-5 garlic cloves, peeled (3 left whole and 2 cut into 12 slivers)
-2 tablespoons olive oil
-coarse salt, ground pepper, dried thyme
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place peppers, onion, potatoes and whole garlic cloves on a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with half of the oil, season with salt and pepper, and toss to coat.
Make twelve small slits in top and sides of roast, push in garlic slivers. Move veggies to the sides of the sheet, place beef in the center. Coat with remaining oil, rub with salt, pepper and thyme. Roast 40-50 minutes, tossing vegetables occasionally. Let meat stand for 10 minutes, tenting with tinfoil. Cut into slices, serve with vegetables.
For the polenta:
-1 cup yellow cornmeal
-1 tablespoon butter
-parmesan cheese
-mushrooms, sliced
Set 4 cups water to boil. Meanwhile, sautée mushrooms in a pan until brown. When the water is boiling, add 1 tsp salt, and gradually whisk in cornmeal. Simmer gently over low heat, whisking occasionally, until polenta is thickened and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Whisk in butter and parmesan, keep warm over very low heat. Stir in mushrooms, or top with them. If the polenta becomes too thick, whisk in some water just before serving.
For the beef and veggies:
-2 1/2 pounds eye-of-round roast beef (not terribly important, I believe I used rump round)
-3 red bell peppers, 2 yellow bell peppers, 1 medium red onion, and 3/4 pound new potatoes cut into 1-inch chunks
-5 garlic cloves, peeled (3 left whole and 2 cut into 12 slivers)
-2 tablespoons olive oil
-coarse salt, ground pepper, dried thyme
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place peppers, onion, potatoes and whole garlic cloves on a large rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with half of the oil, season with salt and pepper, and toss to coat.
Make twelve small slits in top and sides of roast, push in garlic slivers. Move veggies to the sides of the sheet, place beef in the center. Coat with remaining oil, rub with salt, pepper and thyme. Roast 40-50 minutes, tossing vegetables occasionally. Let meat stand for 10 minutes, tenting with tinfoil. Cut into slices, serve with vegetables.
For the polenta:
-1 cup yellow cornmeal
-1 tablespoon butter
-parmesan cheese
-mushrooms, sliced
Set 4 cups water to boil. Meanwhile, sautée mushrooms in a pan until brown. When the water is boiling, add 1 tsp salt, and gradually whisk in cornmeal. Simmer gently over low heat, whisking occasionally, until polenta is thickened and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Whisk in butter and parmesan, keep warm over very low heat. Stir in mushrooms, or top with them. If the polenta becomes too thick, whisk in some water just before serving.
Perhaps I am terribly unhip
but I don't understand how some men think that, just because we women are occupying the same dance floor, it's perfectly acceptable behavior to come up from behind, grab our hips, press themselves against us, and consider that a appropriate greeting. Please, someone explain it to me.
Never fear, friends, that fate did not befall me. While standing among my happily gyrating mates, I purposely (and I suppose purposefully as well), emit very strong "why am I here?" vibes, complete with frequently crossed arms and the look of bewilderment that naturally appears on my face. It's never failed me, and I'd be happy to demonstrate for anyone who wants to avoid that particular brand of attention.
Never fear, friends, that fate did not befall me. While standing among my happily gyrating mates, I purposely (and I suppose purposefully as well), emit very strong "why am I here?" vibes, complete with frequently crossed arms and the look of bewilderment that naturally appears on my face. It's never failed me, and I'd be happy to demonstrate for anyone who wants to avoid that particular brand of attention.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Sad, but true.
For the first time in months, I can:
-pay my rent
-my electric bill
-the dentist
-maybe 4x the minimum on my credit card
-open an ING account with a few hundred dollars
-buy proper groceries
-put aside some personal spending money
without worrying one iota about where I'll get the money to pay next month's rent. So yes, I may be working close to 50 hours a week, but for this small financial security, I don't mind in the slightest.
-pay my rent
-my electric bill
-the dentist
-maybe 4x the minimum on my credit card
-open an ING account with a few hundred dollars
-buy proper groceries
-put aside some personal spending money
without worrying one iota about where I'll get the money to pay next month's rent. So yes, I may be working close to 50 hours a week, but for this small financial security, I don't mind in the slightest.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Personality Disorders in the Hundred-Acre Wood
Yes, you read that correctly. The subject arose in a rather circuitous manner: 1. Saw Jim's Valentine's Day cards from home. 2. Discussed Valentine's Day presents from our parents. My mom replaced The Tao of Pooh and The Te of Piglet, which I lost to a friend years ago. 3. Mentioned that my favorite preschool unit so far this year focused on Winnie-the-Pooh. 4. Kristina informed us that she doesn't entirely like Pooh and friends, stating something along the lines of "Pooh's stupid." 5. I was about to argue that Pooh's simple-mindedness is a positive quality (as outlined in the aforementioned books), but I paused, reflected on the various characters in Milne's stories, and realized that there are indeed some serious issues at play. Let's take a look:
Winnie-the-Pooh: The easiest assessment to make is that Pooh is, above all else, simple. As Milne describes him, "a bear of Very Little Brain." There are, I believe, other elements at work here. He exhibits a few signs of being Schizotypal, such as odd mannerisms, thought processes and speech patterns that are difficult to follow, and odd beliefs or "magical thinking," but I don't think a full diagnosis is appropriate. It's probable that he also has Attention Deficit Disorder, as he's often in his own world, and has trouble focusing on a task or following conversation.
Piglet: It's quite obvious that Piglet suffers from Generalized Anxiety Disorder. The poor creature is scared of his own shadow, and any situation that's remotely unfamiliar is a cause for panic.
Tigger: I could make a case for Tigger having ADHD: he often fails to follow instructions, is easily distracted, does not seem to listen to others when spoken to directly, fidgets and squirms, runs or climbs when and where it is inappropriate, has trouble playing quietly, is more often than not seen as "on the go," and talks excessively.
Owl: Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He has a grandiose sense of self-importance, requires excessive admiration, has a sense of entitlement, and shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes. Owl believes himself a Paragon of Wisdom, which is amusing if only because he also appears to be dyslexic.
Rabbit: First and foremost, he's Obsessive. Everything in his life has an order, particularly his precious garden. He wants no help, believing that only he can complete tasks properly. Any disturbance is his routine is overwhelming, and he maintains a highly disciplined lifestyle. It's no wonder that Tigger is his foil. There seem to be no compulsive behaviors, so rather than diagnosing him with OCD (hand-washing, counting) I believe he's only Obsessive. Rabbit is also highly Introverted (clearly not a disorder, but a characteristic worthy of note), preferring solitary activities - reading, gardening - to social situations, and finding it very difficult to "let go."
Eeyore: Chronic dysthymia (mild depression). Eeyore isn't a full-blown depressive, but he exhibits most of the signs of the less severe form: depressed mood for most of the day, low energy, low self-esteem, difficulty experiencing pleasure, and a hopeless or pessimistic outlook.
Roo: Roo is perhaps the most "normal" of all, as his hyperactivity can be explained by his age. It's possible, however, that the absence of a father figure, an inappropriate role model in Tigger, and a moderate disregard for his mother's rules will lead to delinquency in later years. Fortunately, there's plenty of time to steer him onto the path of healthy development.
Kanga: I don't see any personality disorder, per se, but Kanga is both overprotective of Roo, and then seemingly unable to discipline him. I think some parenting classes would work wonders, but on the whole, Kanga is a loving, stable mother.
Christopher Robin: Again, I find no particular condition, but there are a few concerns. Where are the boy's parents? They're completely absent, and a boy of his age needs supervision. He also seems to have no friends of his own species, and spends most of his time talking to animals. I foresee a potentially serious social disorder in the making, but as he's kind to animals, I'd rule him out from becoming a sociopath (who frequently present with cruelty to animals as children). The worst-case scenario is that Christopher Robin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. I Googled "Christopher Robin disorder," to see if I'd missed any serious warning signs, and found a piece that provides a very compelling argument. For his sake, I hope that there is in fact a Hundred-Acre Wood.
So there you have it, my highly enjoyable activity of the evening (or rather, very early morning). I didn't go as far as whipping out the DSM-IV manual, but did take a gander at some personality inventories to flesh out my own diagnoses. And now, both impressed with and only slightly embarrassed by my Psych Studentness, I'm sending myself to bed.
Winnie-the-Pooh: The easiest assessment to make is that Pooh is, above all else, simple. As Milne describes him, "a bear of Very Little Brain." There are, I believe, other elements at work here. He exhibits a few signs of being Schizotypal, such as odd mannerisms, thought processes and speech patterns that are difficult to follow, and odd beliefs or "magical thinking," but I don't think a full diagnosis is appropriate. It's probable that he also has Attention Deficit Disorder, as he's often in his own world, and has trouble focusing on a task or following conversation.
Piglet: It's quite obvious that Piglet suffers from Generalized Anxiety Disorder. The poor creature is scared of his own shadow, and any situation that's remotely unfamiliar is a cause for panic.
Tigger: I could make a case for Tigger having ADHD: he often fails to follow instructions, is easily distracted, does not seem to listen to others when spoken to directly, fidgets and squirms, runs or climbs when and where it is inappropriate, has trouble playing quietly, is more often than not seen as "on the go," and talks excessively.
Owl: Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He has a grandiose sense of self-importance, requires excessive admiration, has a sense of entitlement, and shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes. Owl believes himself a Paragon of Wisdom, which is amusing if only because he also appears to be dyslexic.
Rabbit: First and foremost, he's Obsessive. Everything in his life has an order, particularly his precious garden. He wants no help, believing that only he can complete tasks properly. Any disturbance is his routine is overwhelming, and he maintains a highly disciplined lifestyle. It's no wonder that Tigger is his foil. There seem to be no compulsive behaviors, so rather than diagnosing him with OCD (hand-washing, counting) I believe he's only Obsessive. Rabbit is also highly Introverted (clearly not a disorder, but a characteristic worthy of note), preferring solitary activities - reading, gardening - to social situations, and finding it very difficult to "let go."
Eeyore: Chronic dysthymia (mild depression). Eeyore isn't a full-blown depressive, but he exhibits most of the signs of the less severe form: depressed mood for most of the day, low energy, low self-esteem, difficulty experiencing pleasure, and a hopeless or pessimistic outlook.
Roo: Roo is perhaps the most "normal" of all, as his hyperactivity can be explained by his age. It's possible, however, that the absence of a father figure, an inappropriate role model in Tigger, and a moderate disregard for his mother's rules will lead to delinquency in later years. Fortunately, there's plenty of time to steer him onto the path of healthy development.
Kanga: I don't see any personality disorder, per se, but Kanga is both overprotective of Roo, and then seemingly unable to discipline him. I think some parenting classes would work wonders, but on the whole, Kanga is a loving, stable mother.
Christopher Robin: Again, I find no particular condition, but there are a few concerns. Where are the boy's parents? They're completely absent, and a boy of his age needs supervision. He also seems to have no friends of his own species, and spends most of his time talking to animals. I foresee a potentially serious social disorder in the making, but as he's kind to animals, I'd rule him out from becoming a sociopath (who frequently present with cruelty to animals as children). The worst-case scenario is that Christopher Robin suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder. I Googled "Christopher Robin disorder," to see if I'd missed any serious warning signs, and found a piece that provides a very compelling argument. For his sake, I hope that there is in fact a Hundred-Acre Wood.
So there you have it, my highly enjoyable activity of the evening (or rather, very early morning). I didn't go as far as whipping out the DSM-IV manual, but did take a gander at some personality inventories to flesh out my own diagnoses. And now, both impressed with and only slightly embarrassed by my Psych Studentness, I'm sending myself to bed.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
On Impermanence and Suffering
I promise that this blog isn't going to turn into a collection of quotations from my Current Readings, but I can't help but share what I've learned from this book. I finished it a few days ago, and have since picked up The Power of Kindness where I left off, but I feel the need to reread it right away, in case I missed anything. I've already made note of twenty excerpts that spoke to me, but I've found, in my literary adventures, that there's always something new to discover. But I digress. From the chapter I've just reviewed:
"Impermanence is the goodness of reality. Just as the four seasons are in continual flux, winter changing to spring to summer to autumn; just as day becomes night, light becoming dark becoming light again - in the same way, everything is constantly evolving. Impermanence is the essence of everything. It is babies becoming children, then teenagers, then adults, then old people, and somewhere along the way dropping dead. Impermanence is meeting and parting. It's falling in love and out of love. Impermanence is bittersweet, like buying a new shirt and years later finding it as part of a patchwork quilt.
People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last - forever, we say - things that we don't have to wash, things that we don't have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.
Impermanence is a principle of harmony. When we don't struggle against it, we are in harmony with reality. Many cultures celebrate this connectedness. There are ceremonies marking all the transitions of life from birth to death, as well as meetings and partings, going to battle, losing the battle, winning the battle. We too could acknowledge, respect, and celebrate impermanence.
But what about suffering? Why would we celebrate suffering? Doesn't that sound masochistic? Our suffering is based so much on our fear of impermanence. Our pain is so rooted in our one-sided, lopsided view of reality. Who ever got the idea that we could have pleasure without pain? It's promoted rather widely in this world, and we buy it. But pain and pleasure go together; they are inseparable. They can be celebrated. They are ordinary. Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment; pleasure is not a reward.
Inspiration and wretchedness are inseparable. We always want to get rid of misery rather than see how it works together with joy. The point isn't to cultivate one thing as opposed to another, but to relate properly to where we are. Inspiration and wretchedness complement each other. With only inspiration, we become arrogant. With only wretchedness, we lose our vision. Feeling inspired cheers us up, makes us realize how vast and wonderful our world is. Feeling wretched humbles us. The gloriousness of our inspiration connects us with the sacredness of the world. But when the tables are turned and we feel wretched, that softens us up. It ripens our hearts. It becomes the ground for understanding others. Both the inspiration and the wretchedness can be celebrated. We can be big and small at the same time."
"Impermanence is the goodness of reality. Just as the four seasons are in continual flux, winter changing to spring to summer to autumn; just as day becomes night, light becoming dark becoming light again - in the same way, everything is constantly evolving. Impermanence is the essence of everything. It is babies becoming children, then teenagers, then adults, then old people, and somewhere along the way dropping dead. Impermanence is meeting and parting. It's falling in love and out of love. Impermanence is bittersweet, like buying a new shirt and years later finding it as part of a patchwork quilt.
People have no respect for impermanence. We take no delight in it; in fact, we despair of it. We regard it as pain. We try to resist it by making things that will last - forever, we say - things that we don't have to wash, things that we don't have to iron. Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.
Impermanence is a principle of harmony. When we don't struggle against it, we are in harmony with reality. Many cultures celebrate this connectedness. There are ceremonies marking all the transitions of life from birth to death, as well as meetings and partings, going to battle, losing the battle, winning the battle. We too could acknowledge, respect, and celebrate impermanence.
But what about suffering? Why would we celebrate suffering? Doesn't that sound masochistic? Our suffering is based so much on our fear of impermanence. Our pain is so rooted in our one-sided, lopsided view of reality. Who ever got the idea that we could have pleasure without pain? It's promoted rather widely in this world, and we buy it. But pain and pleasure go together; they are inseparable. They can be celebrated. They are ordinary. Birth is painful and delightful. Death is painful and delightful. Everything that ends is also the beginning of something else. Pain is not a punishment; pleasure is not a reward.
Inspiration and wretchedness are inseparable. We always want to get rid of misery rather than see how it works together with joy. The point isn't to cultivate one thing as opposed to another, but to relate properly to where we are. Inspiration and wretchedness complement each other. With only inspiration, we become arrogant. With only wretchedness, we lose our vision. Feeling inspired cheers us up, makes us realize how vast and wonderful our world is. Feeling wretched humbles us. The gloriousness of our inspiration connects us with the sacredness of the world. But when the tables are turned and we feel wretched, that softens us up. It ripens our hearts. It becomes the ground for understanding others. Both the inspiration and the wretchedness can be celebrated. We can be big and small at the same time."
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