The Only Thing That Ever Made Sense To Me

I spent the last few days in my car re-iterating the entire discography of Everclear [though, admittedly, not in order]. It started with a bad bad day Friday, the kind of day that made me want to listen to "You Make Me Feel Like a Whore." Which is, without a doubt, my favorite "bad day" song.

But then, at "Strawberry," the CD started skipping. Which took me to the Greatest Hits, and then "Songs from an American Movie Part I" (the song) made me want to listen to "Songs from an American Movie Part II," and "Overwhelmed" led to "California King," and finally I was at Songs From An American Movie Part I (the album), and I was reminded why I fell in love with Everclear in the first place.

That album was one of the very first I ever bought, in late 1999--my freshman year of high school [and a clean 10 years ago--yikes!]. The album is about the start and end of a relationship--some songs are of the saccharine "falling in love," type, but others are about parts of relationships gone awry.

I remember when the whole things was a glimpse into the future. When I first fell in love with this CD, I had never been in love. Like, I imagine, all adolescents, I had grand and glorious notions of what "true love" would be like--all full of magic. I suppose, at that point, I didn't pay that much attention about the other songs--the ones about going to sleep angry, the ones about starting over, the ones about how hard it can be to trust someone who hurt you when you decide to keep going. About how hard it is, sometimes, to keep going.

Listening to Songs from An American Movie, Part I [which is coincidentally subtitled "Learning How To Smile"], I can't help noticing that I have, in fact, grown and learned a whole 10 years worth of lessons. That sometimes a bed can be the distance of worlds between two people. That it's possible to be relatively poor and objectively happy together. That anyone can have a bad year.

That, although it's not easy to do, it is possible--sometimes, if you try--to learn how to smile.

Me, Elsewhere

New post at Real Mental:

Notes from Above Ground

Remember It's Just Different From What You've Seen

I've become enamored with watching things change, lately.

Perhaps I should start by saying that I am, or was, (or am) terrified of changes. I get into grooves, and I like them. I find it hard to listen to new music--even music by artists I like--because I too much enjoy the music I've listened to before. I re-read books, even when I have brand new ones, with uncracked covers and that new-paper smell, on my shelf. In my reach. I make the same six of seven meals for dinner, rotating them in and out. I've done the same with lunches. And I've made the same smoothie, pretty much, for breakfast for the past year.

But things are changing. [But when are they not?]

I'm currently delighted with the minute changes in our weather. It is not autumn, not even remotely. It won't even begin to feel like autumn for another month, I'm guessing. But the weather is changing, in that it isn't getting any hotter. We've crossed over a peak. The nights are cooler, and in the mornings, I ride to school with my windows down, no air conditioning. I'm enjoying it--God, I'm enjoying it so much. Maybe because I can, for the first time in a while. Because I'm getting sleep. Because I can drive my car somewhere without worrying I should be studying. Because I can.

I'm watching relationships change and shift. I've made new friends in graduate school, made one very good friend in my lab. We have become bonded by our snark, by our shared project, by our chemistry background. When I don't understand something, she can usually explain it; when she needs to do math, I pull my legal pad out from under all the crap on my desk and start writing.

My one friendship from medical school that will never change hasn't, of course--I still find myself falling out of a chair with laughter in our favorite Chinese restaurant. When he names a girl in our shared class, I name her friend. We talk, for hours, when he parks in front of my apartment.

But my other friendships from medical school have changed, even if it's just in the amount of time we spend with each other. But we make things work, drink cocktails in living rooms and bake in each others' kitchens. We laugh, at 11 PM in my living room, at Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians and Shit My Dad Says. The change is that we may not see each other for a week, but there is no change in our shared smiles. Or perhaps there is--that in their new less-ness, they become richer.

I've started some grad school classes, which represent a sea change from the medical school classes. They are much smaller, much more intimate, engineered for discussion and understanding. I'm taking BioOrganic Chemistry, and when I tell people about it, they make this face:

Which is funny, because it is by far my favorite class I've taken since starting here. I am, essentially, taking it for fun--I don't need it, per se, but I wanted it, and I do need the grade boost, which it probably will be. I need a certain program director to see that I can succeed in a certain type of class. Whether or not he will concede is, of course, another matter. One I'm not too concerned with.

In any case, there are changes in the languages I can speak, and changes in that I can no longer fully communicate with my friends. Here, there are "primers" and "MasterMix" and "OhmyfuckingGOD I can't believe I'm having to fight with another company that send me the wrong thing or missed my fax or is BEING A SHITHEAD." There is finagling and working for one's self and having to be self-motivated, which I am sometimes good at and sometimes, well, not. My friends are learning another language, and though I am not fluent in it now, I will someday understand "codes," and "palliative care" and "ED" and what it means to be "on the wards." But it's ok. We still speak "trivia" and "girl's day" and "GODIneedadrink" and "somedays, I am so frustrated I cry" and "I can't believe her Facebook status, let's look at it again."

So things are changing, have changed. But I can roll. Today, this year, now--I can roll. So let's crank it up and do steamrollers, shall we?

We shall.

Me, Elsewhere

Today, I have a post up on Real Mental--please go check it out!

This Time You'll Listen To the Movement In Your Body

A Southern Thing

To be sure, I'm not so up on Southern things. Like the Republican Party. Or the Baptist denomination. Or the Confederate Flag. Or most "southern" things.

But when I read this article that was linked on Smitten Kitchen, I knew that I was missing something important: White Lily biscuits.

Now, first of all, I wish I could explain to you how I am about food. For about the past 5 weeks, each time I've gone to the grocery store, I've picked up a bag of White Lily flour, and contemplated buying it to make the recipe on the back. But the recipe has shortening in it, and I don't like to make things with shortening too often. So each time, I would look at it, decide that it wasn't yet time, and put it back.

But then, a few things happened:

1. Smitten Kitchen posted a recipe for a tomato corn pie. And yes, the pie does look delicious, and I think I'm going to make it with Anna soon. But more importantly, it has a biscuit crust. So I started thinking about biscuits. A lot.

2. I made my first Ikea trip this weekend, and one of the things I decided to buy was a set of cutters. And one of them is a biscuit cutter.

3. I started craving biscuits, and decided to go somewhere that would have them. So, this weekend, I was in a friend's area, and I stopped in to eat brunch with him. I specifically requested brunch because I wanted a biscuit. But a specific kind of biscuit: flaky, light. The biscuit I had was incredibly dense. Still delicious. But still not what I was wanting.

So. I cracked:

These were exactly what I've been wanting: light, flaky. I made them on the small size, ate a few and threw the rest in the freezer. There aren't a whole lot of times I'm thankful to live on this side of the Mason-Dixon line--but shit, if the availability of this flour here doesn't firmly place itself in the "PRO" column, I don't know what does.

Notes:

- I had just finished baking these and imagining them with strawberry jam when I remembered that I don't have any strawberry jam. Quel dommage--I had to eat them with raspberry. An acceptable substitute. And these biscuits begged for real butter, and--of course--I caved.

- One of the unexpected things that happened in my year off from here was a lot of time spent in the kitchen, listening to Radiohead or Red Hot Chili Peppers, whiling away time making dinner and desserts. I hope to post some of those recipes here, although I can promise my photos will never be as impressive those you can find at real food blogs.

- I just realized that September 1 is TODAY and that there is no new banner. I apologize and promise it will be up in a day or two. You'll have to forgive me for finding biscuits more important tonight.