A Functional Parity, and "Plat du Plat".

I've begun spending a lot of time talking to someone who has a tendency to mirror me. They've struck me into meditating between my morning workouts, and after a moment of lost composure and an evening spend crosslegged in a warm towel, I've come to a decision.

I most certainly need to be more confident in speaking with people. Speaking. I have a tendency to assume a sort of stoutness in person, but I would like to be broadshouldered in conduct as well. I need to try to carry people verbally.

In addition, it may be neccesary to restrict help. I have a tendency to offer it. If people need it, they will seek it. Moreover, I can't just play White Knight for people I don't know. Friendships are investments, and you don't invest with strangers - you get to know them first.

Money's just a little tight right now. As such, meals have consisted of what I jokingly call "Union Stew". Union Stew was Runefactory's americanization of Sukiyaki, and consisted of all the winter-vegetables crammed into one lousy expensive recipe. We've been sitting here with the vegetables from last month's grocery trip. Yellow Squash was a little mouldy. Scallions withered a bit. Mushrooms went a bit gooey, but regardless, I Union Stewed it, and chucked everything into a pot over noodles. Following it up with a glass of V8 is exceptionally good for you, sodium aside. The two year-old sushi nori made it a little showy, but not very delicious. It felt decadant to have around; not a neccesity. Something extra to get rid of.

I also scrounged a bit of money. I pocketed ten bucks hauling furniture and thought to get "Terraria", since Minecraft doesn't work on my netbook. It's odd, and I'm not particularly great at it because I suffer from the same "Let's build a SNES Cathederal!" that I'd had in Minecraft. I felt a little guilted after it, though. My favorite Witch punctuated it with, "I was curious, but I'm not spending $10 I could eat on something that doesn't look like it'll have lasting appeal".

I have a sneaking suspicion my dear friend would enjoy the Union Stew I'm poking fun at. If I can get an extra sum set aside, rather than what Sparrow might need for groceries, I should see if I can twist his arm and get him to let me buy his groceries.

An Amateur's History of a Cereal Mascot.

I was walking down the cereal isle. Lately, I've kind of faded into the exercises Sparrow's does and it's been two weeks since I've been to Paul's Stronghouse because I've been really busy with Cup Awards and attending formal banquets with family friends who help children TP houses.


To compensate for the fact that I've not lifted in two weeks, I've been going on these odd little adventures where I walk around parts of town I've never been in for an hour or so, and then stop off at someplace that I actually needed to get to close by.

In addition to that I've been eating very healthy, and now Cheerios makes up a third of my diet or so. However, I was kind of left off the departing bandwagon for the groceries list, so I'd taken the opportunity to hoof it to the supermarket. And that brings me back to where I started. The cereal isle.

Buzz - I think that's the mascot for Cheerios. He's a little bee with a honey-wand that goes around fighting off villains who try to take the hive's honey. He's kind of like an underaged honey-cop I guess. Buzz is kind of unimpressive. I guess I don't really notice if I see him in an isle, because it all blurs together.

Then, I see the oddest face looking back at mine.










This one, actually.

I was oddly captivated. Two years ago, I'd listened to a person drone on about the importance of the World's Fair in my Debate course and mention that Cream of Wheat was first exhibited there, but I'd never really looked into it or tasted it until today, because of that face.

"Who is this?"
It wasn't Buzz - it actually looked a lot like a younger Uncle Ben.

The man in the picture is Frank L. White. He was an 1860's chef in Chicago who was supposedly payed about six bucks to slap on a a set of Chef's Whites and a Toque to be the mascot for Cream of Wheat. They would later name the character Rastus, a shortening of Erastus and somewhat of a racial slur, similar to Tom and Jerry's Mammy Two-Shoes.
















I began to really like this Frank L. White guy...
I don't really care if they make a bunch of racist caricatures out of him; I'd say he's likely the greatist advertising gimmick since Habanero-tan. Rastus tops Buzz - that's why today's picture is just Cream of Wheat.

It was most certainly worth a cent. The fruit made it doubly so.

Plat du Hjalle

He hates being called that, but if I used any other name, it'd look odd.

I was talking to a friend of mine about Chinese food, and after weighing the pros and cons of it all, I finally decided to have gingered milk-curd and steamed wonton.


I used ginger, onion, cabbage and tofu for the dumplings. Things like this typically call for pork, but the Tofu at the store was actually cheaper pound for pound at the store; as much as I'd like to say it was health-conscious Sparrow chirping in my ear, it was really my wallet.

I simmered it all in a mix of soy-sauce, white pepper and rice-wine with a little red pepper - the red pepper paired with the ginger proved a little spicy, and unless you like that mint-pepper kick, you may want to sans the red pepper entirely.

Steamed it, dipped each in the soy sauce, and served with a spring-onion garnish because it's easy and adds a few points for showmanship.

The milk-curd went over less well. The idea is that you introduce juiced ginger to sugar and boiled milk and it solidifies into a mildly-healthy dessert. However, I have everything but whole milk, which is what I believe lead it to doing what it did - a delicious pudding-like curd floated to the top, however the entirety of it is essentially supposed to be a pudding. Letting it sit longer didn't help it, and it's supposed to be served warm.

The process takes an astonishing two minutes. I'm willing to bet I'd messed up somewhere, and I might try it a second time when my hands aren't screaming from the day's soak of ginger and hot water.

Bobcut

More later, when I'm not hooking my socks to my shirt. Stupid garters.
As much as I like getting all formally dressed, I'm getting a little tired of these awards ceremonies.

Here's those haircut pictures I promised.
If I can get one I like without the hood, I'll post that, too.

Mandatory Null-Zone

As of late, I've been stuck in this weird sort of mandatory null-zone. The film is finished - here's the poster to it, which has since been printed on a legit posterboard, framed, and hung on display outside the local Media Center. I've won my third Academic Pin, though I'm disqualified from a fourth for being an out-of-state transfer, which has also disqualified me from recognition on the Honor Student Listing, which is a mild let-down because it would have looked positively smashing on an application.

Basically, aside from putting on a Tux and walking in on Prom Night, then throwing a green robe over it and walking across a stage to accept a sheet of paper, my secondary education is over. I'm in that Johnny Wander moment, now:

"...Uh, what do we do?"
"Eh, wing it."

The only "lesson" in the following weeks will be my final exams, so with nothing to do, I'm basically socializing, which is very frustrating, because I've nothing to do. It's a mandatory nothing-to-do. A big, red tape null-zone that I'm stuck attending because they won't let me slap $30 in dues onto their table and mark the bubble-sheet they've got to send in. With nothing in the now, and everything sort of looming in the future, I've begun marking out what to do for my last months in Missouri:

I've got to get into more contact with Bud Lemmon; the moving-dates are still rather fluid and are dependent almost solely on when the company can move us. I believe my father will be leaving without us, as his first day of work starts on the 17th, so I'll twist him arm to see if he can get me into New York sooner. While I wait, though, hopefully Bud can get me a job scraping shingles off a roof, cracking tile, or yanking drywall. Paychecks are nice, and I don't mind the mule-work so long as I get to tell somebody that they're getting mail or a meal. I've got to oust my pan and work on a grill more to get Sparrow something slimming - as showy as Jiaozi and such is, when he realizes it's packed full of sesame oil, ginger and ground meat and packs a solid 100 calories a pop or something he won't appreciate it. I should probably try a method of preparation that's lower on the sesame which is where a majority of it comes from - steaming them would be good, but I only have a vegetable-steamer, and it's very low-set so I don't trust it to finish the job in one shot.

I'm sweating my haircut now, too. I had this really long Shannon Hoon imitation going, and I'd tie it back Secretary-Style, but I recently pageboy'd it to look a little more presentable strutting around in a suit, which I've been doing a lot of lately. Pictures some other time, as after I do a portrayal of a coke-addict in a second independent film called "Burn Out", I can shave for the first time in weeks.

Time's narrowing down for me to do a few things, like use the industrial print-lathe to Mofuji Nyabi's heat-pad. I'm also sweating my Gym Membership; I've come to love the guys here at Paul's Stronghouse, and I haven't quite gotten the abs I'd wanted, which leaves a lot of exercise up to my single set of weights and whatever hours I won't be spending packing to move.

I'd never thought that leaving Missouri would be difficult - I'd always been a Military Kid and spent years shuffling in and out of places, states, and even countries but as I look at the people who care about me, and the silly antics of those who are in my same situation, and friends who lament the idea of me going to New York, I realize that I've made more than acquaintances here. It's surprisingly bittersweet, and while I've great hopes for my future, I have this quiet ache floating about my chest with regard to the people I'm leaving here, too.

I just hope I don't cry saying farewell, because I know I might when I say hello in New York, too.
I try not to make a habit of crying, though you couldn't tell it as of late.

You can thank Cat and Hat for all of that.

Rhymes like a motherfucker.

Oof.

That's the sound I make when I flop over in a chair after puttering around all day. Filming for Corporate Frankenstein is finally finished, and Garrison has started all of his editing with Adam. We celebrated our finished work with Tab and Fritos at around 11:00 PM in the middle of Wal-Mart in full-costume.

Garrison, still painted, got a bunch of odd looks from this hobo smoking in the gardening section, and Adam leaned over after we passed and said, "I wanted to say, 'My friend might be green, but you're a hobo. What now?'"

The finished product isn't great, but for a film without any real significant budget, I think we're alright. It's airing at the local Conference Center on the sixteenth.

I've been playing GetAmped2 a bit - awhile back, it was just something Liam talked about, but upon learning that my system can actually handle it, after a lot of frustrations with Minecraft, I've resolved to fold and try something else. I'm not great at it, and I'm worried about getting curbstomped in the Newbie Channel once some errors have been ironed out with registry, but for the first time since Killing Floor at Neighbor-John's, I'm playing a game casually.

What's better is Liam's saved me an Ichirin Skin.
I'm estatic for the opportunity to don boxing-gloves.

I added Shawn to Troper Tales and had an awesome Mr. Hangman exchange with Sparrow as well. It's been a good week socially.