The Romantic Comedy* Conundrum

I watched He’s Just Not That Into You on TV recently.  Throughout the first 85% of the film, I couldn’t rid myself of one distraction: a mental twitch with each new scene, a déjà vu of sorts.  This was due to not knowing if I had seen this scene before, because I didn’t remember it.  But by the time the scene was over I was like, yeah I have absolutely seen that before.  This was so irritating – rather than becoming absorbed in the movie, I spent the whole time wondering if the movie was so generic that I had forgotten seeing it, or had I never seen it but felt like I had because it was so predictable?  In the end, I concluded that I had seen it before.  But seriously, this experience left my mind feeling shifty**.  I’m guessing that I first saw this movie after aliens awoke me during the night, abducted me into their spaceship, and forced me to watch it in a state of vacant hypnosis. 

*Even though I seem to naysay romantic comedies in this posting, I actually like the genre quite a lot (One of my favorite romantic comedies is Leap Year).  I have nothing against mediocre movies – in fact, I usually get more enjoyment out of a happy mediocre movie than a poignant critically acclaimed movie, such as Million Dollar Baby.  

**I liken this mental disorientation to the time when half of my Eggo waffle came out burnt, so I had to cut that half off, and subsequently I could not cut my bites along the grid lines.  I experienced physical dizziness as I cut haphazardly, with the pieces looking as sloppy as a $2 hooker.  On no other occasion have I not cut along the grid lines.  

nom nom

Apparently, the best time to go grocery shopping is the day after Christmas because all the best things are on sale.  I suppose this is because everyone did their beastly shopping trip beforehand to prepare for their gluttony, and the store knows it won't be seeing as many customers due to the consumption of left-overs.  As soon as I entered the store, bam! KALE! COLLARD GREENS! AVOCADOS! Each were only $1; I don't know about pricing in your part of the country, but for overpriced Naples, Florida, this is a steal.  I'm going to make soup tomorrow.  I have to get my fill of all these green things before I return to Northeastern, where the broccoli tastes like it was dunked in cold bleach water drained from a foot-bath.  Speaking of broccoli, I also got summa dat to dip in my hummus sampler -- 3 flavors of hummus, muahahahaha.

Scientific Baking

For the past week, I have been in Divide, Colorado, which is at an altitude of almost 10,000 feet.  I wanted to bake something, so I researched how altitude affects baking.  Here are various facts I learned about the science of baking in high attitudes.  

1. Due to the lower air pressure, cakes tend to rise too fast which causes them to deflate.  To prevent this, use less of leavening agents such as baking soda or baking powder.
2. In high altitudes there are fewer air particles.  This decreased amount of air particles means there are fewer particles to carry the scent of food to your nose.  Since smell is directly related to taste, this means the food has a diminished taste.  Therefore, use more flavoring elements, such as increasing the amount of vanilla extract.  
3. The dryness of the air affects how moist the cake turns out.  Therefore, add more liquids; however, sometimes it is recommended to add more flour in addition to more liquids, which seems to counter-act the purpose of adding more liquids.  Also, acidic liquids are more helpful in high altitudes.  For example, replace milk with buttermilk, yogurt, or sour cream.
4. The temperature of the oven also needs to be adjusted because things heat differently at high altitudes (for example, water boils at a lower temperature than at sea level).  Sometimes, this means increasing the oven temperature by 25 degrees, at certain altitudes.  However, since I was at 10,000 feet I pre-heated the oven to a higher temperature, and then decreased the temperature once I put the cupcakes in the oven.  This seemed to be effective, because the cupcakes didn’t come out deflated.

So, taking these tips into account I set out to make chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter icing.  They weren’t failures, but I wasn’t entirely crazy about them.  They were a bit dry, and I could detect the low quality of the Nestle cocoa powder I used.  Maybe this is just the immorality of the Nestle corporation manifesting in the taste of the cupcakes.  

   à Here’s a side note: Nestle is a major producer of baby formula.  In the company’s history, it wanted to expand its market to include Africa.  In their marketing campaigns, they used tactics to persuade African mothers that baby formula is the most beneficial way of feeding their babies.  However, impoverished African mothers could not afford to buy the proper amount of formula, so they would dilute it, resulting in protein deficiency and other maladies in their babies.  But let’s just suppose the supply of formula was not the issue.  There were still problems because the formula mix required adding fresh water, which is often not available in many parts of Africa.  Therefore babies would become ill from formula made with contaminated water.  And finally, illiterate mothers often did not know how to prepare the formula properly because they couldn’t read the instructions on the labels.  On the other hand, breast-feeding has been proven to have physiological benefits for both the baby and the mother (for example, breast-feeding releases a short-term contraceptive hormone in the mother that prevents additional pregnancies.  Breast-feeding has also been linked to a lower likelihood of breast cancer).  Had Nestle not distributed propaganda on the “superiority” of their baby-formula for their financial gain, countless African babies and mothers would have been better off.  This is just one of Nestle’s ethically questionable impacts.  There is a variety of other scandals as a result of their business practices around the world.  

Back to cupcakes.  The saving grace of the cupcakes was the peanut butter icing.  It was pretty delicious, though if I attempt it next time I’ll try to have a slightly less prominent peanut-butter taste.  I also got to use a new toy this time, a piping bag for the icing!  Due to third-world exploitation, I got two pastry bags and three decorative tips at Wal-Mart for a total of $5.  Not only does this give the icing an artistic look, but it also makes it way faster to ice the cupcakes.  Here is the end result.  

Please excuse my heartless mirth

Last night a fascinating show came on the television about a man who weighs over 750 pounds. He's only 26, and hasn't left his bed in 7 years (this brings to mind the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). Unfortunately, his legs gave way (weigh?) one day in the kitchen and he came thundering down, never to arise again. He claims to be perfectly capable of doing everything from his bed, including cooking his food. Also throughout this morbid, fascinating, repulsive show, he was entirely naked, just laying in his bed with a sheet barely covering himself (I'm assuming no clothes are made in his size). Fortunately, his layers and lumps of flesh covered any naughty-bits far from sight. When a team of paramedics had to transfer him to a food-rehabilitation center, they had to use a whale sling to lift him off his bed.

Probably for the best, I only saw the first 10 minutes of this show -- the channel was changed due to my family's extreme disgust. But this glimpse into the pitiable life of another human made me wonder what caused him to reach this point? He was born a normal baby, a blank slate. This makes me ponder what I might turn out like...even though I'm far from being a baby, there's a lot of time left in my life for morbid surprises that would land me a 1 hour television special. I also wonder what I would exchange to avoid a fate such as this--a form of "would you rather?". Would I rather live in poverty and exploitation in a third world country, or have food and shelter even if it means not being able to leave my bed?

Nail Art

This is a result of procrastinating from my study of statistics.  The base color is Sabrina's, and although it looks black it's actually a deep plum color with very faint sparkles.  I did the stripes with a nail art brush.  It was fast and easy to do, only taking about 15 minutes.  

I've Been Hit with an Origami Tazer Gun and Now My Brain is Convulsing

Right now my brain is seeping with toxic anger as a result of how insufferable origami is.  I hate it with a burning passion.  I toiled away, and all that I got for my work was a beating with the failure stick.  My efforts were to make an 8-sided box, with 8 little pieces of paper linking together in what should be a really cool spiral.  BUT IT’S NOT.  Because origami is impossible for the poor Anglo-Saxon, non-oriental, me.  The top, when photographed, doesn’t look like the true failure it is; this is because I used dozens of pieces of tape on the underside, which is cheating.

When I tried to link the bottom 8 pieces together, I just couldn’t take it anymore and crumpled them all up.  This was pretty satisfying, like knocking over a Lego tower or jumbling up a completed jig-saw puzzle.  Really, I was just putting the paper out of its misery.  I can’t imagine the humiliation it was feeling with me manhandling it and making it look like a fool. 

In more positive news, I had the delight of watching Pan’s Labyrinth.  If you haven’t seen it, I strongly recommend it.  I won’t even try to describe its enchanting and melancholy complexity because my description wouldn’t do it justice.  Maybe I will try another time, when my brain hasn’t been ravaged by origami failure.  

Meditating, Zombies

                This evening, I went to a “guided meditation” session in the Sacred Space of Ell Hall.   The room itself is pretty awesome, with a Japanese design theme and a ceiling that looks like metallic origami.  However, the meditation wasn’t what I thought it would be.  I expected the “guided” aspect to mean a mental journey through another realm, such as a magical forest abundant with tree-elves.  Unfortunately the meditation leader just told us to clear our minds and focus on the sensation of our clothes on our skin, and such.  It wasn’t a negative experience, but I don’t think I’ll be going back for seconds.

                In other news, last night I watched a zombie gore-fest movie called Doghouse.  In this British film, a group of middle-aged bros unwittingly vacation to a town infested with female zombies, due to a virus that only infects women.  This movie hits two birds clichés with one stone by plotting the tragedy as a result of 1) a biological virus/apocalypse and 2) the military’s inhumanity (like a mix of I am Legend and Avatar).   Anyway, today Andy made a color-coded map of our floor that shows threat levels on a scale of 1-10 (10 being the highest) in the event that every girl turns into a zombie.  To my surprise, I had a danger ranking of 6.  I think I could be a much more dangerous zombie than this—at least an 8.4.  I could do a lot of damage with my hot glue gun.  

An Ode to Martha Stewart

A couple days ago Iris, my suitemate, surprised me with an awesome handmade gift.  As a testament her origami beastliness, she filled a glass ornament with a ton of miniature stars.  What’s more, she made several more of these filled ornaments for others.  This dedication to paper crafting inspired me to get going on a project of my own.  I must also note, these stars call for a shout out to Sofia, another crafting goddess.

  

And the forces of crafting inspiration continued today, when I voyaged to Cambridge with Erin and Sophia.  We went with the intentions of getting ice cream mochi and wandering around the outrageously overpriced shops.  We happened upon a crafts festival at what seemed to be a crafters guild in two seemingly historic, converted houses.  I got so excited looking at all the jewelry, clay, woodworking, knitting, visual art, and upcylced trinkets.  I particularly liked one artist’s work, which was my favorite example of the gyotaku that I’ve come across.  Gyotaku is the Japanese art of fish printing, where the artist uses an actual fish’s scales as an ink stamp.  I’ve attempted this using a faux-fish made out of silicone, but my attempts came out as pathetic smudges of failure.   Personally, I would never want to attempt the authentic method using a real dead fish, because this would be revolting. Clearly this artist doesn’t mind handling dead creatures of the ocean, and she jazzes up this morbid art form with watercolor additions: 

After this, we went in search of yarn so that Erin can take up crocheting.  We learned of a yarn shop called Gather Here, which is in an area of Cambridge that is more residential than the Harvard Square T-stop.  This small, independently owned shop had quality yarn and fabric offerings, albeit 2 to 3 times more expensive than a typical craft store.  The comfy couches for group knitting, as well as the tray of home-made cookies, gave the shop a welcoming community vibe.  I ended up getting two small skeins of yarn, one coral-colored and one midnight blue, to possibly make a headband.  I plan on returning here next semester to take one of their many class offerings.  

Overall, today was a fabulously fruitful day of wondering around Cambridge.  I can’t wait for my three craftathon weeks of Christmas break.

Sweat & Snow

In a trance of being both hyper and tired, I thought that naturally 12:30 would be a good time of night for a workout.  I joined Jaco, Andy, Al, Sean, and Ryan for a deck workout in the 9^th floor common room.  This is where a deck of cards is used to direct a workout—diamonds, hearts, clubs, and spades represent flutter kicks, sit-ups, jump-squats, and push-ups (I opted for girl-style push-ups).  The number on the card dictates how many do (with face cards being the true slave-drivers), and with jokers representing 1 minute of a superman or a plank.  Midway into the workout, I felt like I was dabbling in masochism.  This was not helped by the fact that the rough carpet had literally rubbed the skin off my knees (due to my girl-style push-ups).  Once this lovely experience was over, I refueled with some Pad Thai shared with Jaco.  Andy and Sean also brought out Ritz crackers, peanut butter, marshmallow Fluff, and Nutella.  Enough said. 

On another note: I have a new decorative addition to my room.  First I taped a stray piece of snowflake cellophane to my ceiling.  Of course this calls for paper snowflakes, which Kassie and Erin made while comfortably watching the hellacious deck workout. 

Gingerbread Houses

Yesterday I had the privilege of decorating gingerbread houses with Erin and Sophia at Northeastern's Gingerbread House Contest. I didn't go into it with a competitive blood-thirst like others, including some who came with construction equipment (said contestant made a ski-slope).  The university supplied the houses and decorations, including dozens of types of candy.  Like the candy vikings we are, we pillaged, plundered, and had our way with the candy table. I had a merry time decorating my house, and of course, munching on candy.  By the end, sugar had lain siege on my poor, aching brain.   Here are some pictures of my house:

(front)

 (back)

And here are some pictures of Erin and Sophia's lovely house:

About Me

Now I will properly introduce myself.  As I said before, my name is Angel.  This is my birth name, because believe me, I would not chose this as a nickname for myself.  I’m from Naples, FL and currently live in Boston, as a student at Northeastern University.  I’m an International Business major learning Italian, and I plan to open my own business down the line.  I love to craft and cook.  I’m pretty reserved, so until you get to know me thoroughly, I’m like this:

...but once we’re friends I’m more expressive with my insanity. 

Hello.

My name is Angel and I would like to welcome you to my blog.  The purpose of this blog is to publish a cross-section of my daily thoughts, regardless of how worthy or mundane they are.  I will introduce myself more thoroughly in a later post, but there are some topics that I would first like to share:

1.  Today I walked into my shared bathroom some minutes after my suite-mate took a shower.  The way the air was laced with the aroma of Herbal Essences could have taken me to Narnia and back.  I’m immune to the smell of my own shampoo, so I don’t experience this when I shower. 

2.  Today I took a bite of milk chocolate (and perhaps due to the silky texture of this Whole Foods godsend) – a sculpture appeared on top of my chocolate.  And what should appear, but a bonsai tree?

3.  Now it’s time for a rant.  Today I went to Hell on Earth, aka the post office.  It’s like the beach at Red Tide – filled with washed-up decay.  First I had to wait in line with all the other serfs (no beach pun intended).  Then I had to deal with the sassy parcel-cashier who made a snide remark about the sogginess of my box (due to walking 15 minutes in the rain to get there); and excuse me, but I’d rather have a soggy box than a soggy brain like you, Ms. Post-Spinster .  And there are other things I could complain about but I’ll stop there.  I vaguely recall a scene in Men in Black II where the identities of the post office employees were  revealed to be aliens—how true.  As a whole, the post office is a parasite on our country, losing $7 billion each year.  Post cereal better change their name or I’m going to boycott them out of bitterness.