Paru du Jour

I'd had a conversation with Parsee in the space between discussing Momiji with Pyon and Futae no Kiwami jokes with Shameimaru.

Parsee'd paged through here and said, "There's so much Freudian bullshit with that Fish Taco".

I said it was actually supposed to be worse, because the recipe I was using initially called for Cilantro, which would have turned the entire deal green. I'd omitted the Cilantro because I didn't want to purchase and eat the crap purely for the sake of a bit of innuendo.

Parsee thought about it for a moment before saying, "Y'know, I've never seen a Fish Quesadilla. It's a novel idea."

Here you go, Bridge-t.

Beyond Food, and over the shire to the Valley of Me, things are okay.
I've just finished reading the Initial Script for Clerks, one of my favorite films. The slated ending was pretty odd - In the film, Dante and Randal have this brawl in the store, have a conversation while exhausted, and realize they're still friends before Randal Randal-walks out the store.






If all went as Scripted, Dante would have promptly been shot after that, and a gunman would've emptied the register before bailing. In dark humor, a customer would have peeked in afterwords and cried, "...Hello? A little help?" and upon finding the store empty, would have taken a pack of cigarettes and bailed.

What a shit ending. I'm glad Dante lives.

The script-reading is in preparation for an Indie-Film I'll be making in my quest for College Credit. A friend of mine and I have slated "Frank & Stein", a Corporate Frankenstein film. It's centered around Frankenstein's Monster as he goes about his mundane little cubicle-job. It's done in a fashion akin to "Terry Tate: Office Linebacker" or "Trailer Park Boys", and even has a homage to the two when an employee named Ricky continually submits "OFFICE LINEBACKER." into the Suggestion Box. Franky's going to try to implement it, but on the Office Budget, can only afford an "Office Receiver", which is a guy name Terry who stands by a trashcan, assisting people who attempt to throw things into the trashcan from afar.

There's some other silly things in it, and it'll open up with Jonathan Coulton's "Code Monkey". More or less on that depending on how stressful the process of making this proves to be.

Mildly irrelevant, but I'll be attempting to default my computer to fix the constant I/O Errors and Router issues that plague this lousy laptop. If I manage, I'll see if I can get Parsee to help me tweak Minecraft to my settings and maybe host for some Hisoutensoku or Warcraft III, which I torrented awhile back with hopes of Paladin-ing alongside Sparrow.

Fingers crossed, lads.
By the by, the Fish Quesadilla? Dynamite.

Plat du Café

It's a very Coffee-filled day. I've had quite a bit of it, and having gone to bed very early, I'm feeling particularly brisk and limber about everything.

I've got my To Do list for the day: Platelet Donation at 3:00, Postcards, Laundry, and a look-in to some Compositions - Einstein on the Beach, 1000 Airplanes on the Roof, and Winter, as well as some Chopin, Schubert, Bach, Liszt and perhaps Tchaikovsky and Beethoven.

Today's plate is actually from a few days ago. I came back from the Grocery-store using a portion of my Shovelmoney to purchase fish, and I wound up saving myself some money by getting a very large box.

Unfortunately, this means I've committed myself to eating Tilapia. Every. Day.
I've begun trying to prepare it in a unique way - In Odd Thomas, a book I disliked, I was fascinated with Odd's mild obsession with Fish Tacos, and I took the time to prepare one. It's served with marinated cabbage and a small dollop of Sour Cream, which added a very nice touch.

In addition to the fish, I purchased Lemons. I've been using them to make quite a bit of Blancmange which keeps the milk from spoiling in the fridge, make the fish more exciting, and as an ingredient for Aaron's "Oriental Ninja-Burger".

We'll see how this goes over.

Pyon and Nyabi have been making up a very significant part of my morning conversations over coffee. They're really great people. I feel better for knowing these guys.

Gotta mail word over to Robin and such - If I had that Einstein Postcard, I'd pass it his way, just for the odd, odd look in his eyes. That's photographic genius.

I'm willing to bet there was an odd sort of sadness in Einstein's understanding of things, and the expectations of the World upon his shoulders. I'm willing to bet he felt very much like Charlie Gordon in "Flowers For Algernon", or Robert Stadler when he saw the world he allowed to exist: "It's very lonely at the top".

I digress!
It's time for fish.

Plat de Victoire.

You ever really tell someone off who everyone has wanted to tell off, but hasn't? Like, well, have you ever addressed the elephant in the room, much to everyone's relief? I did that today, and by God, I feel like a victor for it.





There's three particular students who have no business being in my Medical Courses, and they sit in the corner of the classroom, earning -my- Credit with papers they admit to stealing from eachother and the grace of their standing with the instructor.

I told the Instructor several times that I didn't appreciate the special treatment that the three were getting, and that I think Medicine is no place for people to skirt by on grounds of reputation. I got the typical brush-off, save for today.

While sitting in class, I began to frown. I got, "You seem angry. Would you like to say something?"

I stood up and promptly said, "You there! Yes, you three! I'm tired of hearing things come out of your face. In addition, I think you're breezing through a class you should be failing by grace of your social standing."

The leader of the three laughed it off and I quickly added, "No. Seriously."

One of them said, "I'm in a course you're in. What does that say about you?"
I said, "Just wait until college, my friend."

Everyone just kind of stood there, mouth agape.
After the lesson, the Instructor pulled me aside and said:

"...I hadn't expected any of that to come out of anyone's mouth. Do you feel better?"
I said, "I do - is this a bad pull-aside or a good pull-aside?"
She opened her palm for a high-five and I laughed.

When No Child Left Behind essentially revokes your ability to fail students, you have to cross your fingers for the occasional self-righteous indignant loud-mouth to come along and say what everyone wants to.

I'll be that self-righteous indignant loud-mouth.

My victory meal was blackened salmon, with a small grilled onion garnish.
There was also a small portion of vegetables served aside it, but one so small that there was nothing to photograph after eating.

Plat du Aaaugh.

Okay, do I didn't wind up doing rice like I'd predicted. I threw the whole deal over Couscous, which is a tiny grain-pasta kind of similar to Italian pastina. It was pretty good - the flavors complimented eachother very well. Not particularly exciting, though.




Mildly irrelevant, but Filet Mignon bothers me - I've always wanted to prepare it or something, but then I saw it, and I was kind of disappointed in its raw sum - a nice little puck of meat wrapped in bacon. Some day, if I have the time, I ought to learn to prepare Filet Mignon in an exciting way - somehow, it just doesn't have wow-factor by itself...

...I'm a little premature about thinking on that, though - we're not buying anything that's not Great Value for quite some time.

Also, the title - I was walking Fischer, a small dog we've been in care of for a bit when I passed a guy shoveling dirt. I said I'd help him when I came back, though I don't necessarily know what put me up to it. He said he'd take what he could get, and I grabbed my workmitts and short red shovel. We shoveled until the sun started to set. All the while, he talked politics and such with me - he said Medical's a good field to seek out, because there will always be "Suckers hurtin' themselves", and said, "When you're old like me, your memory's the first thing to go - can't remember what's second..."

He passed me twenty dollars at the end of the day, and asked me if I thought I was going to be sore tomorrow. I said, "I think my back's going to hurt - call it a hunch". We both laughed, and he told me I could come back today to do the same thing. I think I will - even though I'm hurting, this is the closest I've gotten to a Callback all year.

Oh - also, I watched a deaf comedian perform last night, too. She was very good, and her interpreter relayed all of her signing. It was a funny coincidence, too, because awhile back, my TAG-Instructor said, "Harmeyer, a second language is a good thing to know. Now, you took two separate ones, and that's no good - if you could learn a language - any language - what would you learn?"

I told him I'd really like to learn Sign Language, and he said "...That's an odd answer. Why?"

I told him I'd really love to flirt with deaf people, and he goes:
"That is the single most egotistical, insensitive, self-centered thing I've heard all year. I love it."

I could get a job relaying for deaf comics; more incentive to learn Sign Language.

Plat du Jour

I've been Anemic, as of late.
My Biomedical Instructor made the diagnosis as to why I am tired by 7:00 while my head spins like a top for the entirety of the day prior. As such, I thought to use a little meat, and maybe balance-out that Iron level.




It's just another toss-over-ramen bit. Boiled the Gyoza and Chicken together before generously applying a new Curry-style Rub I found to everything and foil-baking it.

Took it out. Tossed over noodles. Slurped generously. Mouth numbed from small but powerful addition of red pepper. Entire kitchen smells like curry-powder.

There's an additional breast I cooked along with it all leftover. It's just kind of sitting there - I'll see what I can do with it. It'll probably be the same scenario, only thrown over some rice.

A little irrelevant but, yesterday, I woke up with this deep longing to visit the sea once more. I've only been to the sea twice, and only one of which do I hold any sturdy memories of. I woke up with the faintest hint of salt on my nose, and I starting craving that thick-feeling, perpetual breeze on the sandless coast, and the saline-and-grass smell that accompanies it.

Then I damned the fact that I'm in the landlocked Midwest...

I want to try a seafood dish. Shrimp's a little pricey, but I might spring for it. In addition, I was paging through a recipe for Fish Tacos - very healthy ones. It alternated the crunch of batter for lightly cooked onion. It used a lot of lime as well - I'm a sucker for citrus.

They also had a pretty bold bit for Scallops.
I've wanted to prepare Scallops for a bit, but I've never had them before, and I bet they're pricey, too...
...I just like the way they look. Scallops are very nice-looking. Cute and dainty, and you can serve them alongside the shell to look awful showy.

Gotta place a New York call before it gets too late. Miss 'em.

Plat du Jour

Banana Crêpes.

Added a little ginger and cinnamon to the batter, because from the recipe for Coconut Ice I tried, they go well together.

Well, technically speaking, they're not crêpes in the sense that they weren't baked in an oven. If I stuffed them with Banana, and then baked them, they'd be crêpes.

Wriggle gave me the recipe, though I topped it with butter as opposed to adding the butter to the batter, because he tops them with sugar and butter.

Plat du Jour.

This is the Blancmange Cirno and I discussed. I made it with the fact that I was going to eat it for breakfast in mind, so it's flavored with Vanilla, Cinnamon, and Grapefruit - the Vanilla adds that smooth taste that Blancmange is known for, and the Grapefruit and cinnamon add a subtle twang to it all.


A humorous fact and amusing innuendo is the name - Blancmange (pronounced: 'Bluh - Monj') just means "White Stuff".

Any other citrus fruit will do for the flavoring, as you essentially just boil the rind and cinnamon in a cup of milk - next time around, I would like to try Kumquat - they're very popular in Corfu, which is where Milo and Simon meet the Mediterranean Lady in "Hot Show".

Followed it up with coffee, and rejoiced.

Also, I broke the little bowl I cool desserts in and eat everything from...
I dropped it while trying to open the door with the camera, my coffee, and the bowl in hand.

Lest we forget.

Plat du Jour.

I've been on a little bit of a Prozzäk kick, and I've listened through "Hot Show" a few times through, now.

Plat du Jour?
Baked Pasta - I hope it's something Eiki would be proud of, though we discussed Lasagna.

The Blancmange is cooling in the fridge.

Recipes and the Status Quo

Well, I was hoping to call this something different, but by some weird change, I hit "Enter" instead of "Delete", so the title sticks. Attendance for my courses is going to be dismal tomorrow - even the College Credit ones. The community's in an uproar over a local team making it big, and everything has been put on temporary hiatus in support for the team that just might make our town notable for something more than the Pony Express, Cherry Mash, or the fact that Jessie James ate a bullet here. Thankfully, I'm so ahead of the game that I can feel free to plop down and focus on important things, like the Plat du Jour for each day I have off:

Aaron and I flipped through the recipes at Ninja-burger, and I happen to have everything needed to whip up the ominous "Oriental Ninjaburger" with the exception of a single lemon. Expect that, soon - I'll tell you how it is, despite its dubious goodness for me.

Blancmange, the dish Cirno and I discussed, incidentally only requires a bit of lemon as well - the cornstarch and sugar I have leftover from Pumpkin Flan can be used in it, and the Vanilla Extract, as well. Supposedly, this goes pretty nice with coffee. Sounds like I'll be having a sugary desert for breakfast tomorrow. Expect to see this, as well.

Eiki and I discussed Lasagna - I'm not a huge fan of it, but I may make a baked pasta dish... I have a lot of Penne just sitting in this box, though I don't have any mozzarella - A combination of sliced mozzarella and grated parmesan is what makes Chicken Parmegiana so easy and delicious, but - like Eiki - I'm a little bored with a different preparation of chicken every day.

I saw a recipe for the spice rub used in Blackened Salmon - a dish I order every time I go out to eat - floating around. There's a lone, frozen Tilapia fillet sitting in the freezer and I might have to make it. It's definitely not as boring as Chicken, and despite the snow and rain that have started to make a return, I think the weather will be plain enough to try and grill it, too.
Grilled Blackened Tilapia. That sounds so good right now...

Yes. I think I'll make this happen. Just a bunch of posts called "Plat du Jour".

Beneath all this recipe-talk, things have been kind of odd, this week.
The town's in an uproar, which is kind of an odd feeling - I'll use it to my advantage when I buy ingredients, to avoid any lines.
My cousin tried to kill herself - she's always been a lot like Marie Antoinette and I'm kind of torn between disliking her for dealing with her problems in such a stupid way, and her parents, for being the spineless, lazy people they are.
My mother's been in and out the hospital - my little sister once lost an ovary, after it rolled internally and cut off its circulation; now my mother's having the same experience, and she's always pacing to keep the blood circling.

To top it all off, an insurance representative, and her son, backed into the car-door. A little ironic, but we've been getting lots of agency calls, trying to sort out the situation. Hopefully, that'll all subside.

Eventful days - eventful kitchen. That's the gist of it all, this week.

A Revelation through Ayn Rand, Dexter, and "J".

Have you ever been seethingly proud to be yourself?
Has ever the sheer reality of your existence blazed in your hands, and pulsed in your temples with each beat of your heart, and ran through the cold flesh of your numb toes?

I can't really begin to total the immensity of the simple discover I have made, but I can describe it, what it means, and how it came to be.

I had coaxed myself into a roleplay - It's something I've done many times, and it's something I had expected to be inconsequential, though perhaps more consequential than others, because it was with a particularly interesting person.

Something happened, though, and the importance of it took until 8:00 PM to make sense to me.

I had been told to be Me, and I wasn't very good at it
I was better at being Ichirin than I was at being Zack. I even get postcards, on rare occasion, addressed to "I. Kumoi".

I took a few steps backward, or maybe even forward, I can't tell which direction.
And I saw me.

I am such a profoundly intricate being.

All the single, overlookable, almost subconscious memories that somehow curved or bent the wire that would ultimately lace itself into "Zack C. Harmeyer".
How brilliant it is to exist beyond fiction!

I'm burning - I'm ablaze with the sheer reality that "I AM".

All week I whispered to myself: "I Think. I Am. I Will".
This little Randian Mantra to spare me from the sudden overwhelming feelings of Obligation, and Self, and Aspiration I feel.

My God, it's like when you expect something to work, and it does - just not the way you planned. Like water flowing backward to make a mill work in an Escher sketch.

I AM.

Truly, I am.

I am Zack.

I am Male.

I would like to be a Doctor.

I once cut my nails too short with a small ivory pocketknife my mother bought me at an England auction. My big toe hurt particularly bad.

I once saw a bright yellow spider in a playground corner. I am convinced it was a Fiddleback or something, but I may be wrong, because I remember telling a boy that there was a Shield Beetle climbing a tree in a Castle Park, and I was probably wrong.

Michael Castor stole Root Beer from Dave's Fridge, and he put a lock on it - he was the only boy to eat his Salad in Kindergarten.

I sang in a hospice when I was small, and was not brave enough to eat the mince pies there. I remember that almost everyone there was balding, and had oxygen tubes in their noses.

I have many volunteer hours, all essentially under the same benefactor.

I wear leather dress gloves when I lift weights.

I inadvertantly associate bacon with salt, after eating something advertised as a "Bacon Bap" at a fair in England.

I have never felt this insatiable desire to tell you something that I will likely tell you tomorrow, "J."

I hope it will still reel in my mind with the blatant, simple profoundness that it has today.

I contest internally not to let this be resigned to some compact corner of thought.

I have to keep this real - this is part of my Anthem.

My God, how I "Am".
All it took was that wayward roleplay and three episodes of Dexter.
So chance and coincidental.
I am, I am, I am, I am.

Fishbowl.

Once upon a time, I spent my evenings as a Writefag for Gurochan, catering to the Freak board. Having been inspired to pursue medicine by the exploits of Nurse-kun and Ampu-tan in the acclaimed Copypasta, Damaged Goods, I guess it wasn't at all surprising that I wrote about amputees. I had this running deal about this guy, Dr. Michael Whitcomb who lives this overshadowed little existence behind this other doctor who regales, mildly illegally, the staff with his exploits about the recovery of a woman who has lost her arms.

I had this part where Michael Whitcomb kind of walks about in a daze - all the people look the same in their blue-green scrubs, he eats at work because he has no wife, and the fluorescent lighting gets to him, sometimes, by making the entire hospital look like a fish-tank, which he kind of likens the hospital to.

I'm feeling kind of Fishbowl, tonight:

I have an Ace Bandage and a Liquid Adhesive patched under my arms - it feels I'm wearing a rubber-band, and while I wish I had some cool, righteous story for it, it was actually pretty embarrassing. I had to lose my body-hair so I didn't yank it out while making my Atlas sculpture, and since I'd spent the evening prior discussing staying smooth and my devotion to the razor, I figured, "Why not?"

I tried a Hair-Remover upon getting frustrated with my razor's limited reach and, well...
It wound up mixing with my antiperspirant and giving me some rather nasty chemical burns. I had to strut about with my hands on my hips all day, to keep the blistered spots from sticking to my belly, but now that I have it all bandaged, I'm feeling pretty good. Embarrassed, but good.
...Now I remember why that razor was so trusty - Razorburn and Chemical Burns aren't in the same ball-park.

Charles is out - he left at 2:00 AM on a bus-ticket for Kansas City. It's quieter, now, and my parents joke that all they have to do is convince me to take the dog to College, and they'll have a peaceful home.

I've renewed a few of my applications online, and I'm going to contest the others with some walk-in Interviews. I'm feeling good, though I worry I may cripple one of my more project-based courses, because I know a film-unit is approaching fast. I suppose I can stand to be miserable, though - I need money: New York isn't free, and I'll be happier to have earned it. I'll try to juggle.

I listened to a rather sad tale about a sexually-confused girl named Brayden Dailey. I don't remember much of it, but she was very hopeful, and traded a very stable relationship for the company of someone who'd used her for quick cash...
There are some people I know - I worry about them, because they're Brayden Daileys. They're genuinely kind, attractive people who just let their lofty little imaginations get a little too far ahead of themselves, and I worry that they might find themselves robbed and regretful.

Heh - I feel a little hypocritical: the last line I'd heard that made my heart skip a beat was, "Enjoy your dreams, boy."

Aaron and I chummed it up, today, and he said something that really stuck me - he was talking about how Matt hates my guts, but he said he sort of stood up for me. I'm by no means perfect, and it's taken some time to escape naivete, but he just really championed for me - I hope he's done right by himself to do so.

Honored to call you friend, Cap'n.

The AP's coming soon - I happened to be the only one in the district to earn maximum recognition and a bit of college credit off of it the year prior, and they've actually relaxed the terms for success, now. I think I may try to take it again, and earn more. Being exempt from Lit/Comp courses will be nice, and they always give you the opportunity to have your results mailed into the places you'd like to attend - I got props from the U of S that way.

A second ACT's around the corner, too - I'd like to retake that, but I'll unfortunately have to pay for it, since I don't qualify for any financial aid programs, like Free or Reduced Lunch, yet. I scored a solid twenty-seven last time, but with all of these quick-read skill that leave me a little under a minute for each question, I'm hoping to compensate my math deficiencies with a solid score everywhere else, so I can get a thirty-one, which offers me a "Free-Ride Scholarship"; it's exactly what it sounds like, free College.

In closing, today was a day of beautiful sounds. I decided, around 3:00, that I would sit out in the rain until 5:00, and listen to the trains. It was really great - the trees sounded like waves on the beach when the wind blew hard, and my face was damp, and my hair kept blowing out from behind my ears. I sat down at the transit, soaked.

This guy there; he "swings that way", so to speak, and he goes:
"...You're all wet, and you have a popped collar. My, aren't you studly?"
I told him I'm chasing birds and Degrees, but that I was flattered.

All of these things have been kind of floating around in my head, sort of disorganized. I haven't really been able to focus, because I'm living off cold-syrup, coffee, and soup - fish-bowl, see?

I have this big, skull-bowl full of thought-fishes, just passing eachother, but never really forming one school.

Do What Makes You Happy.

I have embarked upon the most selfish of efforts, tonight.

Our orders to Syracuse have been changed:

The order was initially for a Senior Master Sergeant - my Father's rank - and would pay somewhere around $4,000, while putting me very close to all my endeavors.
It fostered this sense of safety, and safety allows me to neglect the supposed youthful mistakes that are duty-bound to arise around one my age.

The order is now tailored for a Master Sergeant - it is still available to us.
If we take it, my father will be making $1,600, and he and my mother - I will not say 'Us', because that will be something I will try and escape in New York - will still be subject to the moving fees that they are still mildly haunted by, because the price for us, as a whole, to move here was rather respectable.

Our family has once again resumed this state of Coals.
My father is most troubled - he brings up the moving expenses, the flatlining pay.

My mother tries to encourage my sister and I - she says we may take Syracuse at a loss, and that there is still a wild-card chance that my father's associates can put the job back to the Master Sergeant rank.

My sister told me she was sorry for me.

There's just a bunch of swarming lights, like when you stir coals. I can't make sense of it, and neither can my family.

However, I have resolved it: I am going to New York.

"I came here alone after graduating from a European college. I had a difficult struggle, earning my living at odd jobs, until I could make a financial success of my writing. No one helped me, nor did I think at any time it was anyone's duty to help me."

It is not anyone's duty to help me.
I will not plead with my parents to have them do anything at a deficit for me.
I think. I am. I will.

I will it.

I will do what I can, for what I may earn, and it will be mine.
I will undergo the difficult struggle for what I desire.

The education I want - I will make it.
The career I want - I will have it.
The person I want - I will meet him.

Throughout the centuries
There were men
Who took first steps
Down new roads
Armed with nothing
But their own vision.

May I be one of them.