Dreamstate

Don’t be upset, you are loved! The world means nothing, it never really has, and I doubt it ever really will. If we live in a dream state, shall we not dream of those we love? The only nightmare comes from within- we create it, water it and nurture it. Nightmares are so much easier to care for. So easy, so promising, so utterly caustic. Surrounding us with down pillows and a warm cup of tea, they whisper promises that they never intend to keep. A warm bed, success, financial security but never love. Have you ever seen someone you loved happy in a nightmare? Neither have I. Many die horrid deaths, eaten by terrible monsters or ripped apart by a storm.

Funny how man lives his own nightmare. It’s so comfortable at first, but never in the end. If none of this truly matters then, why not dream a happy dream?

No, they do not promise riches in gold or silver- something far more beautiful than that. The warm smile of a passerby, or a hug from a long lost relative. The joy of a family gathering, boisterous laughter. The happiest ever afters never focus on the castle, or the barrels of gold but always a life shared together. Always the unbroken bonds forged by tears, giggles, and sweat. The best dreams may not always be the easiest, but they always end the best. Someday we will all wake up, I just hope I dreamt the right dream.

Raymond Folstad speaks

I guess, well, I guess I don’t know. I’m really exhausted, and pretty numb. I have so much to say but I don’t have the oomph to speak aloud. Writing works. It always has. Thank goodness for my blog, and thank goodness I can write whatever I feel like. So tonight, lady, whoever you are, thank you for making me cry. You are so mean. Please find a different job that doesn’t require compassion or patience. Thank you.

Anyway, Wedding planning is going so-so. I am the epitome of budget bride and I am incredibly grateful that family and friends have been so willing to donate stuff and help. Bonus when you are broke.

I finally decided to go back to plan A. Married in a church, reception in a coffee shop. Works for me. In all honesty, weddings don’t really excite me that much. Maybe it’s the drugs speaking here, I don’t know, but I just can’t seem to get my act together. I’ve got sooooo much to do, none of which I actually want to, and only a month to do it. Can I do it? Ya. Do I want to? Absolutely not.

I don’t feel much like myself at all. Sadly, I want nothing to do with the people I care about the most. I feel like somebody pressed the uptight, no affection button. I keep putting off the vibe that I just want to be left alone, but in reality, I rarely ever want to be left alone. I wish somebody understood that. And the funny thing is, I keep telling myself that maybe it’s true, maybe I, and everyone else, would be better off if I just disappeared one day. Oh well.

Stuck in a hat box

You ever have one of those days where you are completely uninterested in everything? One of those days when Skynet hacks your brain and you do menial tasks over and over for hours and hours without really thinking about what you are actually doing? Yep, I’m having one of those days. I don’t feel so much as depressed, just, well, caged. I desperately want to fly free, but there is a Siamese, a Tabby, and a Calico all looking right at me.  Circumstance, Fate, and Prozac make for shoddy companions if you ask me.

I want so desperately to be liberated- from what, I’m not quite sure. I had someone tell me that on the outside, my life is pretty perfect. I agree, it is. But I wonder how much of it is just a product of caution. I’m so careful, I follow the rules, I do my homework, I say please and thank you, and I smile at people who make me pissy. (Le gasp, I swore!) I just want to do something completely unordinary, something so out of my comfort zone, something that will make me grow. Granted, this whole depression/loneliness experience has made me grow, but now I feel like I’m stagnating. I want to have an adventure! I’m not talking driving down 95 with half of my torso out the sunroof, pleasantly telling everyone they are number one while I navigate with my feet. No. I’m talking about getting lost in a forest for a couple of hours, or going to a town I’ve never been to and looking for oddball stores. I want to paint! I want to draw! I want to liberate myself from where I am.

I’m so worn out from college. I’m almost ashamed to say it, but I am so done with it right now. I’ve been in it for three? four? years now? INCLUDING summer. Gag. I’m tired of being pressed by deadlines, walking to and from class in a cloud of cigarette smoke- ugh, I’m just trashed from so much school. Don’t get me wrong, I love learning. I LOVE IT! But, I almost feel ashamed to say, at this moment, it’s not what I want. (Le Gasp again).

While I visited my grandparents I had the pleasure of going to many, many, buffets. Understand that I don’t like eating out. I find it wasteful, expensive, and impersonal. Yes, I can crack open a can of garbanzo beans for about 50 cents and get the same pleasure, except I can eat them right out of the can. More fun. Anyway, I watched countless people, almost all old, sitting with plates piled high in complete silence. Now, I could be completely wrong when I say this (for all I know they could simply be contemplating the molecular structure of the brown stuff that ladled on their plate a minute ago) but none of them looked happy. In truth, many looked really unhealthy, and with a morose look on their faces, I quietly wondered if they were looking back on their best years, regretting everything they didn’t do because they were too busy, tired, or caught up in life.  It brought me back to the eternal question, “Why do we do the things we do?”

It seems like we as humans have become automated, simply existing, not living. We do what we are told, we are programmed to adore the material and do everything to achieve it. It’s the same song and dance that people have been preaching for ages. You see, I am horribly ashamed right now and I ought not to be. More than anything, I want to be an artist and a baker, freelance of course. I want to work from home, hold down the fort and make sure my future husband has a warm meal to come home to. I want to hold countless get togethers with friends, go to Church on Sunday mornings, walk along the coast and taste the tangy ocean currents in the air.  I want to explore the deepest recesses of forests in the morning, and scour thrift and antique stores for hours. I want to be in a continual state of peace that Philippians always talks about. Maybe I’m just fantasizing. Go ahead; tell me life isn’t like that. But why? Why isn’t it? Why can’t it be? The things I want most in life don’t cost hardly a penny, and yet I feel guilty for wanting them.

I always felt like I HAD to go get a bachelors, I HAD to find a good nine to five career, I HAD to have a good salary, I HAD. HAVE. BUT I DON’T want these things. I want nothing to do with them. The very thing I hate is the very thing that enslaves me. Material gain- why must I feel the need to strive for it? I’m so sick of it. The life that everyone else is leading is not for me. My journey is different. I think it’s long time coming I accepted this fact. Right now, I just feel like I am tied to Coeur d’ Alene. I want to finally get my chance to blossom.

This picture pretty much sums it up. I don't care if it's idealistic, this is what I aspire to be.

cheap or practical

At this point, I seriously just want to elope. I mean really. I am so overwhelmed by all of this wedding hoopla business that I just want to *scream* I am on the verge of developing a Spongebob sailor mouth. In all honesty, wouldn’t it be romantic to steal away to a small church and only have a few family members witness the joining of lives? Then run off to a local coffee shop and have a coffee reception? It’s just that people spend SO MUCH MONEY on ONE DAY. It doesn’t matter. You can spend 100 or 100,000 dollars, but at the end of the day, you’re still married.

            Everyone keeps telling me “It’s all up to you Briana!” *Cries* I hate pressure. I’m such a people pleaser and I can’t make up my mind. Will I regret it if I don’t go to the White House? Everything is so uncertain that I’m not even sure how many people can come. Is renting the White House justifiable? I mean, really, is it? Beautiful, yes. Predecorated, yes. Affordable? My mom says it is, but when she panics about something she gets this unavoidable look in her eyes. They widen a little bit. Nice try mom.

            And I really am going at this alone. HBM is not helping, and I don’t expect him to, but a little input would be nice. I miss him not being here. I guess wedding planning is supposed to be a bonding time. It’s a stress out time for me. Secretly, I still want to rent out Calypso’s. HBM and I spent so much time there together and it means so much to the both of us. It would be perfect, it really would be. I don’t think a lot of people will be able to make my wedding due to the uncertainty, I HATE BIG UNECESSARY EXPENSES, and I really just want something intimate. It’s an artsy eclectic place, the coffee is wonderful, and it’s conducive to warm chatter, strummed guitars, and cozy laughter. I think I just sold myself. J

Soup and Bread for a rainy fall day

Remember that bubble tea I promised you? Well, you should be thanking me on bended knee that I spared you the most epic of gag reflexes.  First of all, it calls for coconut milk. Now, as my poor fiancé knows, I’m nuts about everything coconut. So, I was super excited to try my first carton of coconut milk. I was so sure that it would soon be experiencing a burst of luau in my mouth so it didn’t bother me when I slapped down five dollars for half a gallon. It tasted like cow boob juice. L Ok, so, with a little sweetener it couldn’t be bad. Proceed with my French vanilla tea. After FIVE attempts to get a grasp on the tapioca pearls, I finally perfected them. Excitedly, I added the tea, milk, and ice into a blender. Pour, then dump in some tapioca pearls! This was going to be great!!!..... If you fancy semi sweet, vanilla flavored mucus with frog eggs floating about. Geeeerooosssss.

HOWEVER, I redeemed myself by making a soup so fantastically tasty, and a bread so wonderful that it was completely eaten before I had the chance to nab a picture. So, without further ado, Ranch Chicken Soup and Beer Bread-

Soup-

2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 medium onion, finely chopped

2 large carrots, peeled and sliced

6 small potatoes diced, with the skins still attached

3 Tablespoons fresh minced garlic (the more garlic, the merrier)

64 oz  chicken broth

1.5 Tablespoons dry Ranch Dressing seasoning

1/4 teaspoon fresh cracked black pepper

1.  Heat oil into a large dutch oven over medium heat.  When hot, saute onion, carrots, and garlic for 7-10 minutes or until softened slightly. In a separate pan, sauté the chicken, and then shred once thoroughly cooked. Pour the chicken broth into the vegetable mess, dump in the chicken and add the potatoes. Stir, then season with ranch seasoning. DON’T ADD SALT UNLESS YOU HAVE TO!!! Reduce heat to low and simmer until the potatoes are to your liking.  Taste and season accordingly.

8 servings

Beer Bread – Adapted from Recipezaar

• 3 cups flour (sifted)
• 3 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 (12 ounce) can beer (I used dad’s “guest” beer, aka, Miller High Life)
• 1/4 cup butter

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Mix dry ingredients and beer.
3. Pour into a greased loaf pan.
4. Pour melted butter over mixture.
5. Bake 1 hour, remove from pan and cool for at least 15 minutes.

Doesn’t that sound delicious? I thought so.

In other less tasty news, life continues to keep me busy and somehow, I’m still able to procrastinate. Work is still fun, thank goodness, but my hours are getting chopped. Sunday was a nut house in the morning. The hostess, who doesn’t like me, sat me everywhere and then neglected to tell me I had tables. So sweet. Then later in the afternoon, she just didn’t seat me at all. Fine, I get it. Whatever. Luckily the manager at Starbucks likes me- it looks promising! I mean, 30 hours a week promising with decent pay and hours that allow me to have an afternoon. Yay. And now back to being responsible.

tired...still

You know you’re tired when you drink an entire monster (this is ME drinking a monster people) and it doesn’t faze you at all. At all. Nothing. In fact, you’re more tired by the act of drinking it and digesting what little sugar it has. That was me a few days ago- fast forward to today. I have officially joined the ranks of the undead. I feel awful. I just can’t sleep lately, and no matter how much shut-eye I manage in a day, I’m left even more exhausted then before.

Note to self, overeating does not compensate for lack of sleep. This is a habit I must break now.

I was going to post a recipe for bubble tea, but apparently you have to be a Zen master to properly cook tapioca. My first attempt produced invisible tapioca blobs, which are great for a diet, but not for bubble tea. My second attempt resulted in mushy tadpole eggs. So, round three consists of little white balls in an overnight Jacuzzi. I pray it works BECAUSE I REALLY WANT BUBBLE TEA! So, tomorrow, I promise.

I wish I could say today was interesting enough to blab about it, but it really wasn’t. I had my interview at starbucks and as I watched the droves of people entering and exiting, I seriously contemplated what the heck I was getting into. The way I’m feeling, I just want a mindless job that’s quite and requires the brainpower of a newt. Yes, that would be wonderful. I also got to learn disarming techniques in self-defense. I’m definitely going to need some practice. My partner is getting speedy, so I ended up kneed in the boob and having my arm bent in an interesting direction. Hey, at least I can kick, right?

I do love my partner though. She’s totally awesome, and I wish she could see that. We talked a little bit about weight loss and how she wanted to lose a few pounds. She’s tired of seeing all the pretty girls on tv. I tried to tell her that they are fake- but looking back to my high school years, that advice really sucks. She said I was perfect- I just shook my head. No, I’m the result of an eating disorder and horrific self-esteem. Please don’t want to be like me, you’re already, truly beautiful. You’ve got a head on your shoulders, a compassionate heart, a spicy attitude and pretty eyes. Don’t think for a second you should be like “those girls.” Give them two years, tops.

Pumpkin cookies are way more enthralling that Ancient Africa

I bet you thought I forgot about this blog. Well, aren’t you thirty sides of wrong today! No, you see, I’ve just been incredibly busy and a teensy bit down lately. You try a long distance relationship sometime and tell me if you’re chipper everyday. But, fortunately for me, I’m engaged to a totally awesome guy. I mean, would your guy buy you a gold leaf, leather bound book that contained the entire Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? No? I thought not. *is slightly smug*
So, in honor of HBM, I decided to make him one of his favorite cookies and send it off to him- soft pumpkin cookies with cinnamon glaze. Not that I don’t send him something every week- but, hey, this one was an actual request! At least he’s not picky when it comes to sweets.

Cinnamon Glazed Pumpkin cookies (which I stol…borrowed from All Recipes)
Ingredients for the Cookies

2 ½ cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 heaping teaspoons ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

½ teaspoon ground cloves

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup butter, softened

1 cup white sugar

½ cup light brown sugar

1 cup canned pumpkin puree
 
1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup dried cranberries (optional)

Ingredients for the Glaze

2 cups confectioners’ sugar

3 tablespoons milk

1 tablespoon butter, melted

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

Preheat oven to 350°F
Line a baking sheet (or two) with parchment paper or a Silpat.
In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, and salt.
In a mixer bowl, cream together the butter, white sugar and brown sugar using the paddle attachment. Beat in the pumpkin, egg, and vanilla to butter mixture until thoroughly combined. Add the dry ingredients and mix just until combined. Fold in the cranberries, if using.


Drop cookies on baking sheet using a 2TBS cookie scoop.

Bake for 12-15 minutes in a preheated oven, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool cookies completely on a rack.
For the glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar, milk, melted butter, vanilla, and cinnamon. (Add milk to thin the glaze, if needed.) Dip the cookies top side down in the glaze, then set on a rack to dry.

To preserve the soft, cake-like texture, store in an air-tight container. Separate layers with parchment paper.

Don’t they look yummy? Well, besides the fact slight resemblance to albino cow diarrhea. Either way, I wouldn’t know, seeing as wheat and I go together like Israel and Palestine.


In other completely unrelated news, I officially have my wedding dress! Yay! I’d have to say, at this point, I don’t care if my wedding is an elopement or Punjabi style- I just want to get it over with. Sooner rather than later. There is a crapload of drama involved and I don’t do drama. So, I keep myself as busy as possible with work, art, work, baking, school, and feeling sorry for myself in between. Speaking of work, I’ve got an interview with Starbucks tomorrow- wish me luck! I, for one, love having a paycheck. Now, I can legally satiate my craving for all things steampunk AND update my (no joke) six year old wardrobe. Sadness.


And now, I should probably continue with my Ancient History homework- but the history of ancient Africa has never been able to enthrall me so I find myself thinking about a sweater I haven’t worn since I was five, the cute blue one with a horse on it. It had a real mane and a green jewel for an eye and everything! Next thing I know, I’m two paragraphs down with no idea how I got there. Typical. If there is one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that we as humans haven’t come a long way at all. We’re still the same, we’ve always behaved the same, and we’re just as evil now as we were then. Men will always be fascinated with boobs (among other things, see picture below *tragic sigh*), women will always be in charge of growing plants and taking care of screaming infants, humans will always fight over shiny rocks, and the wealthy will do anything to ensure their fifth meal is on time. History gives me a depressing outlook on life.

Just to give you an idea of what I'm learning. Scrutinize the picture. Reminds me of the Boston Museum- but that's for another post entirely.
And so this blog doesn't end on a poopy note, I WISH I was this cool
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/09/party.html