Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Ce n'est pas une Mise a Jour.

(et bon anniversaire, Sabina!)

It's a sad fact that I hardly remember a thing from my French courses. Most of the French I wind up using casually nowadays are either cooking techniques (a la "Chiffonade") or the phrase "Tres interessante!" which I've picked back up after a hell of a hiatus for reasons not quite known to me. I think it started back up after my stay in New York City. "Plat du Jour" got some use, but it's been a long time.

Plat du Jour. Gosh, it's been awhile, but I was considering - if I can find my serving dish - trying to turn left-overs into a fairly presentable dish. I've some chilled chicken, potatoes, and a respectable honey-garlic sauce. I was thinking I'd spoon and smear the sauce with a wooden spoon, then kind of fan cuts of leftover chicken over it with the potatoes on the side kind of domino'd like a stack of spilled quarters. It would be the prettiest mess of cold food ever.

I've actually just come into a very good recipe for Macarons, which have experienced a sort of flare in popularity after the success and popularity of Ib (whose translated edition I will continue to host for your enjoyment Here alongside the notoriously frustrating to install .flow) and ideally I would make those, but I lack a frosting pipette. Admittedly, I can't imagine them shipping well to anyone, either. Too many folded egg-whites. I thought maybe I could send them unassembled like little pink Nilla Wafers that people could glue together with various jams and creams, just that just doesn't sound as pleasant.

Yesterday was kind of crummy. I spent most of my day lifting a four-hundred pound Pepsi-Cola Machine before unloading my sister's clothing while my family went out to eat. I pick the absolute worst times to fast.
Now that I'm done, though, I'm going to treat myself to an eggplant, and a cup of espresso. I've had the most bizarre craving for eggplant as of late, and it's been very persistant.

Also, yes, it's Sabina's birthday! 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SABINA!
We spent the morning-evening (Ohoho, Timezones, you wily cards, you!) discussing Bionicle, romance, baby-pictures, and telling inappropriate jokes about people who fart on subway cars. It was pretty wonderful, though it sounds significantly less-so typed out. You simply had to be there, I suppose.

I'll write more later, but the cafes are just opening, and I want coffee. Expect more-frequent correspondence for the timebeing, as I've finished my oddjobbing, and am nearly finished helping my family move. Thanks for reading and take care.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Update.

I hope this to be a full-blown update. Actually, no, I'm starting to feel a little mentally pent. We'll make this one an UNINTERRUPTED, and I'll go clear my head over some meditation afterwords. You'll know why once I start talking about my slight melt-down. It was a really stupid melt-down, but I've been having some abrasion with people I hold dear, and it's starting to be a bit of a problem.

Right, where to start, where to start. We should probably start with my new home situation. It won't last particularly long, because the paperwork for my Naval Enlistment has all been submitted and the Intel Sector is actually just conducting my background check at the moment to make sure I'm not a COLOMBIAN DRUG SMUGGLER. I have just moved my family into a new house next to Gentry - that seldom-mentioned guy I'd worked for a few times. Nothing else is really here. The furniture's here, but toiletries, clothes, blankets, and the like are just non-existent.

Worse still, I've got to change banks. This isn't particularly bad because HSBC went the way of the Dodo here. They've begun selling their New York branches to First Niagara. Which kind of sucks, because HSBC has been, quite frankly, the best banking service I've ever used. Before they swapped to being a First Niagara, I sauntered in and since nobody else was there but the clerks and I, I kind of ringmaster'd it and just told them that they're the best and I resent that the most qualified group for the job is leaving.

But the point is, they have left, so there's not much of a change now. I'm got my paperwork submitted to be a new member of Key Bank, which feels like it has all sorts of good, A.B.A.'y undertones. Para-bank. Hah.

The biggest concern is, I'm no longer in the vicinity of the Gym or Post Office. This means not only is there a chance my physical fitness will be slightly off-kilter before I enlist, which I won't stand for, but that mailing parcels just got a whole lot harder. I still haven't mailed Sabina's package out and it's three days away. My package is going to be a bit belated, but I simply don't have markers or tape or even paper here yet.
Such is life in a new house.

I've been working freight, though. For outrageous hours. And I'm told I'll be payed quite handsomely to compensate that. It's begun to take a bit of a toll on my body. I sleep like a brick and make noises like "Uoooohhh--...gh" when I lay down. My forearms are pretty cut-up from wooden boxes. My legs are shot from lifting things I cannot lift with my arms with them. All in all, I just feel like a pound of chewed bubblegum. Supposedly, on Sunday, the oddjob'll be over and I can unwind a bit and de-sore.
I particularly miss talking to Emily. Lately, all I've had the opportunity to do is leave long and rambling text-messages and occasionally call.

I've also begun singing lullabies to people on occasion. Having a friend in the ABDL community is a little weird sometimes, but it's just unlike a lot of other things you'll encounter. If you ever have a chance to meet someone like that, don't instantly turn them away because of what you've heard on Doctor Phil or something. Not all of them quit their jobs. Not all of them spend outrageous sums of custom furniture. A lot of them are ordinary people who simply enjoy the comfort and care that comes with infancy, and they lead quite normal lives. In fact, mine is an aspiring pilot. Tres interessant.
Shit, that reminds me,

I HAVE TO SING SOMEONE ELSE A LULLABY ON SUNDAY
 (Remember this, Zack. You forgetful, no post-it having motherfucker.)

Gotta make sure I don't stand him up. That would be a dick move on my part. Speaking of dick moves on my part, there's one coming up.

I exploded on a few people last night. Not even in a good way. In a resentful, hoity-toity, victimized, stupid way. My grandmother - the cool, spiritualist one whose senility versus enlightenment I cannot discern - has recently taken a turn for the worse. Her blood-pressure spiked really high and she entered tachycardia. This is kind of an ordinary panic for someone like her, so it seemed like it was going to be okay. They gave her a few anticoagulants to no avail. The medications left her mildly amnesiac. They performed surgery after a defib failed to fix her, and post-surgery she was doing really awful. Then she started getting better in physical therapy and over a meal.

Last night, she explained that she was not from Earth, and gave us a planetary coordinate before peeing herself and promptly passing-out. They're talking about putting her in a Nursing Home. My grandfather and my mother said they're "Waiting for her to just get pissed-off. To get her fight back and tell them all what-for," but she's not doing it, and I don't know what to do other than feel assured in the fact that she and I had a pretty good relationship.

After picking up my little sister from the airport and telling her all the wonderful news, she cried. It got to me. I started to piece together this notion that I was sore, underpaid, lonely, and in grieving throes. This was irked the moment I greeted a few friends, only to hear their problems.

PSEUDO-RANDIAN MONSTER, REAR YOUR UGLY HEAD.  
(And tell everyone how you are entitled to your work, how you can do anything so long as you're willing to suffer for it, and how no one but those hand-picked by you have a mortgage on your time.)

After listening to how someone lost their computer and is too afraid to call his brother in to the police as a red flag for domestic violence, how another is hopelessly envious of me for being busy all the time and visiting people, and getting belligerent with someone who I'd anticipated was going to tell me what I'm already quite aware of - that I'm not around enough - I'd kind of exploded.

In a really dumb sort of way. I apologized quickly and pulled my head out of my ass.
If death, work, and loneliness are the biggest concerns of my life, I've got a pretty sweet gig set up.
I talked to Emily for what feels like the first time this week, and then I promptly cleared my head before sleeping.

Now I'm here, typing this.

In a side-note, I've had this growing pile of artwork from a few of my friends. Namely Pyon (The cool guy in the hospital - you know the one.) and Imouto (a weeafriend of mine who used to work out with me.)

I just thought I'd share some of their work. Imouto's been working very hard to learn to draw Annie-May style characters, and Pyon's been engaged in a summer-long project to draw the cast of Tribes: Ascend as lolis. That said, behold their work and/or progress:




A recent Imouto piece.

The earliest of Imouto-doodles.

The latest of Imouto-doodles.

And why not? If I've not showed-off Sabina's work, or you haven't scoped-out Her Blog yet, here's a taste of what's to come:

And Sathyre did, with her middle finger.

How I long to pile books upon you and smoke my pipe in your face.
And you know what? Ana is pretty awesome too. I'd show off her work, but it needs alignment-correction in Photoshop and I've got about fourteen minutes to eat, and go to work. Anticipate that at a later date.