What is the Magic Recipe?

A lot of people look forward to Friday for many reasons. It marks the beginning of the weekend which is a much sought after time of relief, excitement, relaxation, joy and celebration. Friday marks the end of the work week for most individuals, putting a close on the dreary dull monotomy of the daily grind. The day is like an open point on our continuous cycle of life to me, the limit approaches it from both sides but never seems to be fully reached, hence being represented as an open point. Friday in the morning can be dull, in the end amazing, but what about the midday? For some reason, for me Friday is a good day. Not purely because it is Friday, but today is simply a good day.

Today is a good day, and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's because I have not had a Nonlinear Programming homework assignment in a bit, but it's a good day. Generally my Tuesdays and Fridays are fairly relaxed academically only having one class from 2-4 pm. This schedule allows for a good deal of freedom in enjoying Thursday evenings after water polo practice and a way to ease into Fridays. Generally I still wake up early and am productive, but today I woke up around 11. Maybe it was my bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds cereal. That stuff is delicious and almost deserves a post of its own.

Perhaps I'm having a good day because I slept in. Even though I fell asleep between 2:30 and 3 am after a fun trip to the Ruck with friends, I not even hit the snooze button, but instead to change my wake up time all together. Eight hours of sleep really does do a body good. From the lips of Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music:

Strength doesn't lie in numbers, Strength doesn't lie in wealth, Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumber

Restful nights of sleep do wonders for one's disposition, health and soul, that and I enjoy lounging around in my pajamas for extended periods of time.

Maybe I've had such a good day due to being able to mentally check out in my graduate course, Nonlinear Programming. We are currently focusing on algorithms, and the professor almost gave permission to not pay attention for those who had already taken Computational Optimization, which I took in the spring of my sophomore year. Maybe the stars just aligned. Maybe red wine, a hefeweizen, and two Jack and Coke's combined perfectly for once?

Perhaps I had a good day due to my workout. Since I've joined Water Polo this semester, more of my workouts are either practices or getting back into swimming. While this is all fine and dandy, I have not run as often as I would like, however, there's only so much time in the day, and only so many times I can resist chocolate and comfy pj's. It could be a possibility then that the adrenalin and endorphins from my workout could have triggered a shot into the goodness of the day.

Maybe I'm having a good day for none of the above reasons at all. Perhaps the serotonin levels in my brain just achieved the ideal optimal amount. I have been happy and content all day for seeming no reason at all. Things are just good. These days are not necessarily rare, but every time they do happen I can't resist smiling to myself, walking with a bit more skip in my step, and yes I do sing to myself in public. I apologize a bit to those chance to hear it, because while I do have rhythm and enthusiasm, I am aware I don't have the best tone.

Today was and is a good day. No matter what the reason, good days just always seem to be sprinkled with a sort of magic. While young, childlike and naive, hoping for a bit of magic makes me smile just that much more. Who couldn't use more magic in their lives?

Wish List Wednesday!

It is that time of the week again for another Wish List Wednesday. I recently realized that there are four and a half weeks of classes left in my Fall semester at R.P.I and my current feeling about it can best represented as thus:


This emotional sentiment comes from the compounding of the overall funk that I've been under recently combined with the fact that today was just one of those days where I woke up and really just wanted to hit the snooze button for the seventh time and not actually get up.

Under the latter pretense, the focus of this week's Wish List Wednesday is for pajamas. Along with being cuddly comfort that covers your body, pajamas may grace my wish list for Christmas. Below are three items which make me really want to just lounge around my apartment with a mug of hot chocolate with Bailey's and over-sized marshmallows. First off, despite being sometimes overpriced and having silly poses, I do enjoy Victoria's Secret merchandise, so it should be no surprise that this first set is on the list.



Secondly, while this isn't actually the classic pajama set, it's still part of the cozy ideal. Also, I have a thing for rubber duckies and it's cozy so who can argue the cuteness?



Lastly, it's cute and bright and I love plaid. That and I am getting a bit tired composing this post.




All aboard the Bedtime Express! Sleep sleep!

Murphy's Law

Not to draw too much importance or overly inflated sense of self-worth to myself, but I did enjoy the sequence of my postings with relation to certain events in my life. Namely, I lost my ski cap. I tried to go to the mall on Sunday to buy a new beanie. Plans to go to the mall fell through. On Monday it rained, sleeted, hailed and big moist fluffy snowflakes fell all through Troy.

If I was someone who believed in superstitions, the sequence would be nerve-wracking, however, as someone who laughs at herself on a daily basis, this is pretty damn funny.

I'm hopefully going to make it to the mall this weekend, assuming my friend who's driving me there isn't bogged down with work. Hopefully then, my head will achieve a needed degree of warmth and coziness. If not, well then I guess Troy will see snow again next Monday.

I Am a Deranged Four Year Old

Thank you God and Mother Nature! Thank the forces that be and everything encompassed in precipitation and climate.

It is currently snowing outside.

I am going a bit insane.

Although I am currently sitting in my Geology I class, every fiber of my being is yearning to be outside. As stated in the title of this post, I am a deranged four year-old. Every year when snow starts to fall, whether it be the first flakes of the season, a Christmas miracle, or even a few additional snowflakes on a blanket of white in Troy, I get a little crazy. Growing up in Southern California and then Portland, Oregon, we don't get snow. I'm not used to it. Every new occurrence is a new discovery full of childlike wonder, awe and amazement.

The first time that I remember seeing snow was on a trip with my family to Colorado to see my Uncle Mikey get married. We had sometime, and that was also the first time I learned and started to ski. Snow was and is foreign. It's white magic. It is fluffy joy. I love snow. My endless bliss for snow is probably rooted to the fact that it is rare for my native lands. Every year I have friends from the Northeast who moan and dread the onset of winter's magic, and every year they look at me as if to ask what the heck I'm smoking.

I'm joyous and crazy and am currently like a little girl who is seeing snow for the first time. It is glorious, joyous, blissful happiness.

I love snow.

I am going to go dance around at some point on campus and catch a snowflake on my tongue.

Is class over yet?

Do You Remember?

While many things in life and history are subject to unnecessary and overdone romanticizing, there are a few things where loving nostalgia and idealization of the past is deserved. Childhood is one of those select subjects on many accounts from the small daily activities, places that hold fondness in our hearts, and the subject here, of relations with others and morality. In youth, black and white seemed to be all that there was. In saying youth, I am referring to before middle school, before drama, before puberty and adolescence and the gray areas. Before complications and awkward situations, there were three categories of people my own age: friends, people I didn't know, and meanie-heads.

That kind of social dynamic and world view allows for everything to be black and white. While some might find that simple, I see no problem in the simplicity. There are fewer occasions for feelings to get hurt, and if they did, well you could generally expect to see it coming or weren't surprised by the source. Things were good, or things were bad. In general I do not recall a good deal of wishy-washy-ness apart from maybe being distraught I couldn't see a friend that day.

The source of this posting and reflection isn't simply from a longing nostalgic sense for simpler times and less drama. Although it was not inspired from a large dramatic event either, but rather it sprouted from the general feel and build up of several evenings, last night and a social engagement I am attending tonight. People talk. People always have talked and always will. People change. The same applies to people. I have personally changed a slight deal since my freshman year at college. I am still the same heart, the same smile, the same demeanor that seeks to make everyone around me happy at my own expense occasionally. I still have a large heart, still have trust issues, and still am a bit of a mess and always will be, however, I'm a bit more hesitant, a bit more comfortable with myself, and most importantly a bit wiser.

Last night I found myself plunging into turbulence and tempest social seas. There are many people I like, many who I still find to be a meanie-head, but the lines between those who I am not sure of and maliciousness are blurred. Motives are involved, trust is questioned and too much doubt arises. I dislike doubt. Floating between a friend exuberant to see me and hang out, mutual acquaintances, a friend with a rocky past and someone who I have never felt comfortable around, I found myself talking to all of them. I normally believe the best in people until proven otherwise. Just last night was so confusing. I truly cannot think of another way to describe it but confusing.

When did things get so complicated? When did people stop being either good or bad? While I do not like stepping down from my proud platform of being a big girl, the hurt little girl inside of me really does want to jump down and run back to the sunshine valleys imagined on my walls in my imagination. This reflection is really as muddy as a playground puddle. Life is just confusing sometimes, and it's not even frustrating, it just is what it is: a murky mess. Doubt and I don't get along, unless it's No Doubt.

It might be a bit regressive to desire black and white morality and interaction again, but it's sure easier to paint in black and white than to create varying shades of gray.

Wish List Wednesday!

November is officially here and although it is freaking me out a bit that we only have five weeks left in the semester, it is perhaps a good thing for many aspects of my life. The leaves have turned, fallen, and are transforming into a mushy slippery goo that threatens to kill me every time I walk back to my apartment. The cold has dipped down to temperatures in the 40s that feel like the 30s. My hands are cold, but thankfully my hair is not to the freezing point yet.

In that respect though, the cold is coming. Water Polo practices lasting until 11 pm will leave my head as an icy mess. Sadly, my favorite ski beanie has decided that our long, loving relationship must come to an end. After a camping trip, he left me and is either laughing at me from some corner of my apartment, blowing along the Aiderondack's or is on a mountain somewhere in Boulder, Colorado. Nevertheless, I have had my mourning period and now must move on before my hair does freeze.

The initial internet wanderings have led me to the following candidates.

This pom pom style hat makes its way to the list because of the bright colors. My last beanie of many years was a gray knit with red and orange circles, and what can I say? Old flames die hard.

Secondly, knits are always a favorite over fleece.

The second knit is also here due to color choice. I tend to wear a lot of black when I ski, so I like to break it up a bit.

Lastly, all I really have to say about this hat is that it's fun to toe the line between the light and the dark side.


Hopefully a suitable cap will find its way into my heart and onto my head in the near future. I really do not enjoy icicles for hair.

Pierogie Pleasure

For various reasons, this past week has not been kind to me, so initially I was unsure and hesitant on seeking the counsel of my good friend Erin. Thankfully though, she is awesome, but also the shared comfort came in the form of food preparation. Throughout high school and when I am home, if I am happy I bake or cook. If I am stressed, I bake and cook. If I am depressed beyond believe and a crying wreck encased in my favorite fleece blanket with two kittens and a puppy on it, I will still find the life in me to wander down into the kitchen and bake and cook. For some reason, this process has been absent recently from my college years despite my sinusoidal, binomial, volatile moods and life.

Cooking always brings me comfort. I started to learn how to cook at the age of seven. My Mom and I were blessed with the best neighbor anyone could have, my next door neighbor, Gayle. Gayle was older than my mother, with her children past college and gone from the house. She was never quite a babysitter, never a nanny, never a grandmotherly type, but always an older friend dear to my heart. In second grade I would go over to Gayle's house after getting off the school bus before I began elementary school homework and dinner time. We would read, play games, and with Gayle I really learned how to cook. I also attribute a good deal of my development in finally learning how to tie my shoes, but that's another story.

Cooking from her own resources and my American Girls Samantha's cookbook, I attempted things that many people would consider more advanced than the level of a six or seven year old. A spiced carrot bisque, blueberry cobbler, pies, apple brown betty, how to sautee vegetables, there was never any doubt that I couldn't try a recipe. Everything was possible, and to be honest, a few things didn't turn out as pretty as the picture, but no matter the end result, everything was prepared with thought and love. While a good deal of my attachment to cooking comes from my own personal reflection and the tranquility that arises, I still attribute a good deal of my foundational love of cooking to Gayle. For that I still hold Gayle dear to my heart today.

On Saturday, Erin and I went to the Troy Farmers' Market and then made pierogies. For those of you who have never had a pierogie, you need to fix that. Now. Right now. Go out and buy some frozen Mrs. T's for Pete's sake. Pierogies are warm delicious happiness encased in dough, and who doesn't love dough? Maybe it's the calories, maybe it's the carbohydrates, but there is something warming and fulfilling to the soul found in dough. While I am still a bit shaky at times, more so than normal, dough helps.

Dough is also tasty as hell in any form.

Thank you Erin.
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