A Tweet-Annotated Guide to Following Me on Twitter

I tweet a lot. I don't tweet as much as some people but it's not uncommon for me to put out 20 to 30 tweets into the interwebs in a single day.

Mostly I tweet for myself. It's fun. Twitter is fun - I follow a bunch of comedians and some celebrities (not the bad kind like the Kardashians, but thoughtful ones who post more than just promotional stuff and awful selfies to Instagram) and obviously some people I know personally.

But my tweets are really not that mass favorite-able or retweet-able. My personal philosophy is that it's only acceptable to tweet about the mundane or absurd goings-on in your life on Twitter. Any other social media platform and you risk being de-friended or unfollowed or something else equally mortifying.

My thing is that my tweets are often very absurd, and the fact that I feel the need to explain them right here is compelling enough proof.

But here are some things you need to know if you plan to follow me, complete with 140-character-or-less examples!

1. You can bet that about half the time my tweets are about some movie or TV show I'm watching Sometimes they're just lines that characters said, or just random thoughts about the show overall.

Like Homeland...

 

This came after I live-tweeted the great Claire Danes one-liners from the Homeland Pilot commentary (natch; see #7).

 Or Girls...

Or Mad Men...

 Or The OC... (there are lots here because I recently rewatched all four seasons)

Or even a throwback like My So-Called Life...

2. I say "Y'all" a lot. Like, 90% more than I say it when I actually speak. I cannot explain this. I have a twitter voice that lives inside my head, and it's a little sassy sometimes and also has a drawl that I'm only now aware of. Also I just realized that "Y'all" is shorter than "You guys" (what I'd normally say), and in the limited real estate of Twitter, less is more.

This tweet could also serve as an example of numbers 8 and 9.

3. Some tweets will only make sense to me. It will be a line from a TV show or movie or YouTube video I've watched and it's only supposed to make sense to me. However, mad props to you if you somehow understand. I mostly tweet these things to look back on days or weeks or months later and laugh to myself. These are usually my favorite tweets, and they're in a niche that is so small and specific that I may be the only person that lives there. Obviously, I am perfectly okay with that.

I tweeted this earlier today and it's my current favorite super small niche tweet. You're not supposed to get it.

4. I tweet a fair amount about the weirdness of Georgia Tech. Like when I walk around on campus and see people wearing overalls unironically. Or generally just people wearing ironic clothing unknowingly.

Or when I have to study a lot and am pulling out the tearless sobs:

These tweets serve the following purpose:

5. I also tweet a fair amount of self-aware weird things about myself. Things that are embarrassing and strange and self-deprecating. 

6. Sometimes I tweet serious things. Like links to articles that I've read that I feel like passing on. Or thoughts that seem deep to me. (Have you ever just thought about the concept of hair? Like on a fundamental level?) Other times I'll ruminate on the state of our society. About technology or the environment or headline news or even Twitter (so meta!).

 

My version of sage advice. This is only half-serious.

7. Sometimes I live-tweet things. My most recent live-tweets were Taylor Swift's newest music video for "I Knew You Were Trouble" (awesome song, hot mess video, which makes it even more awesome, in like a hate-watch way) and a four-part interview of Mischa Barton from a few years ago that I found on YouTube that is the batshit craziest piece of "journalism" I've ever come across. (PS: Mischa, I'm #Praying4U.) These live-tweets result in a barrage of tweets in a comparatively short time period. I love live-tweeting stuff, especially if it's family gatherings (#conflict!)

This tweet came smack dab in the middle of my live-tweet of that Mischa Barton interview and it basically sums up the whole thing.

8. I have a few favorite hashtags that I love using:
#amirite: a rhetorical question, meant to be pronounced all as one word.
#sorryboutit: used when I'm not actually sorry about it.
#sorrynotsorry: see above.
#dafuq: sassy version of "WTF," used when I'm so incredulous I can't muster up anything intelligible to say. (I also say this in real life, not just on Twitter.)
#firstworldproblems: when I'm self aware and realize that any problem I tweet about is canceled out by the fact that I'm using an Apple device to voice it to the world.

#details: when I recognize a congruency flaw in something that's not readily apparent.. Remember, folks, it's the #details that count. 
#praisegod: when I'm so overjoyed by something working out that, had it not worked out, would be a #firstworldproblem.
#butreally: used after something that sounds like I'm kidding but I'm actually dead serious.

#waitwhat: used after I admit something embarrassing and am confused as to why I tweeted about it. As in, "Wait what? Too late now."

 #Praying4U: when I hope that God has mercy on "Ur" soul because you are heading down a #dark and dangerous path (used in the past for Taylor Momsen, aforementioned Mischa Barton, and me, when I was stuck in hellish gridlock Buckhead traffic).

9. I tweet a fair amount about music, too. I almost never tweet about music I'm embarrassed to like and listen to (and admit to the world), unless I include a #sorrynotsorry hashtag. Basically, it's just me being an insufferable indie music listener.

10. I try to keep my tweets fairly free of swear words and use them only when it's really appropriate (see MSCL tweet above). I justify the free use of #dafuq since it's spelled differently, and I'm sticking to that.

 An example of censoring my own tweets (and also number 1). I still stand by this, though, and you know you do, too. Although I wouldn't mind another one of these: 

I'm now fairly certain that I could craft a short story or poem composed just of my past tweets. I'll get back to you on that....

I got to wondering...

A few weeks ago I began watching the first season of The OC. I hadn’t seen most of the season one episodes in probably about four years (and considering the show ended FIVE AND A HALF YEARS AGO and holy heck that makes me feel super old), so it was all very refreshing.

But I’ve grown a lot since I saw those episodes for the first time, when I was in the eighth grade. Because now I finally realize what so many people were talking about when they said they hated Marissa (I truly think you have to be older than 15 to realize how much of a moron she is). And I found a lot of the fundamental dramatic “OMG” moments slightly laughable (see: Ryan carrying an overdosing Marissa out of an alleyway in Tijuana, because, after my trip in Europe this summer, I actually know someone to whom this happened therefore I can laugh about it).

But I still enjoy it just the same (maybe not in a “MY LIFE DEPENDS ON THIS SERIES, THIS EPISODE, THESE CHARACTERS FINDING TRUE HAPPINESS” sort of way that I feel now (sort of, absolutely) about Homeland, because what can I say, you can take the girl away from the obsession, but you can never the obsessive nature from the girl).

I recently finished the six-episode, sent-straight-from-the-pit-fires-of-hell story arc that gave the world Oliver Trask. And then I got all Carrie Bradshaw and got to wondering: Is Oliver Trask the single greatest realization of a villain in all of history (excepting Voldemort, because you can’t compete with a soul split into eight pieces and a snake nose)?

In the words of Saul Berenson, we should explore this further....

I should preface this whole thing by saying that the whole Oliver Trask storyline would be painful to watch if it also wasn’t so laughable.

In examining just how awful of  a character (or, let’s be honest, a human being) Oliver is, it’s important to compare him to other villains across the TV and film mediums.

In examining the other TV shows that I watch (and that I’d admit to), I come across a few expert villains:

Betty Draper from Mad Men (excluding season 5 Betty, because it’s hard to be mad at a character that is so helplessly and hopelessly fat, but that’s another story for another post): I find Betty fascinating. I hate-love her. This sounds contradictory but it’s so possible. There’s no doubt that she’s set up as a villain in Don’s world, considering how awful she is to Sally and Bobby (if/when he’s around). Her actions and words can reach monstrous proportions; like, how clueless and insane can this woman get? Sometimes I don’t even blame Don for cheating on her repeatedly and that is the sign of a great villain: the protagonist’s awfulness somehow becomes justified in the face of the villain’s evil. However, there are also countless times when I love Betty. Again, mostly it’s hate-love, like what crazy thing will Betty do or say this week, like she's some helpless child (totally debatable)? But I also feel bad for her; it’s more a pity than a feel-sorry situation, but it exists. I pity her reliance on Don for approval and justification of her sorry life. I pity her preconceptions that society expects her to behave a certain way. I pity her for doing everything that society told her to do and still not ending up happy.

Pete Campbell from Mad Men circa season one: Pete Campbell is the classic office weasel, the product of nepotism and privilege. Every office has one, Bert says. And in season one, Pete was in fine villain form. He was the epitome of the misogynistic workplace pig (who today would be the defendant in dozens of sexual harassment lawsuits) and his attempt to blackmail Don after figuring out who Don really was made me want to reach through the TV and back 50 years and flick him out of his office window. But in recent seasons I’ve actually grown to love Pete. Up until this season he was one of the only characters who remained 95% faithful to his wife (played by the awesome Alison Brie, whom I adore), and I can’t even fault him for embarking on an extramarital affair last season because 1) It was Rory Gilmore so it doesn’t count and 2) ALEXIS BLEDEL AND VINCENT KARTHEISER DATE IN REAL LIFE. Plus Pete gives us brilliant antiquated one-liners like “Hell’s Bells, Trudy!” and “Christ on a cracker!” So basically you can’t not love him just a little, despite his once-weaselly ways.

Emily Gilmore from Gilmore Girls circa mid-season-five: Woman was practically twirling her mustache in delight when she broke up Lorelai and Luke. That’s messed up, but before and after she proved to be a woman who was deeply broken by her daughter’s self-imposed isolation from her parents and their world.

Emily Waltham from Friends post-Ross-says-Rachel: Look, I know this woman was merely collateral damage in the saga that is Ross and Rachel, but it was impossible not to hate the woman when she nearly forced Rossto move out of his apartment, give up his life in New York (where his son andfamily lived), and never speak to Rachel again. She came across as that woman: that crazy, obsessive, I’m-watching-you-but-you-can’t-see-me lady. Not cool, girl.

Note: Grey’s Anatomy villains do not exist and also I’m sort of embarrassed to admit that I still watch this show, even if it is sporadic and delving into hate-watch territory.

As for movies, I’m not much of a film buff but the best example of a true villain that I can think of is Heath Ledger’s the Joker from The Dark Knight. That guy was a true monster, but he had a really sad backstory that involved physical and emotional abuse so he kind of pulls at your heartstrings a little, plus Heath Ledger plays him with such abandon that, despite his hellish actions and creepiness, you are also sort of mesmerized in a strange way by him.

Oliver Trask, on the other hand, was evil in every single one of its human manifestations. The following is a short list of the most-commonly listed horrendous things he did:

1.     Deliberately drove Ryan and Marissa apart. Nine years later, I don’t even care if Ryan and Marissa end up together, or that they’re the “one true pairing” of the show (but, hello, Seth and Summer and/or Sandy and Kirsten obviously are), but the way he manipulated her (not a completely difficult task, becaue it is Marissa, but still) was sociopathic. 

You think?

2.     He made up a complete person, his “girlfriend”“Natalie Bishop.” The real Natalie Bishop is actually the receptionist at the hotel Oliver lives at (see #3) and his former babysitter. Therefore, this kid wasn’t even smart enough to think of a different name in ancticipation of anyone ever meeting the real Natalie Bishop. Also, I’m starting a new hashtag, #ThereIsNoNatalie (said in a deep, broody Ryan Atwood voice), to signify a time you’d been duped but not really because you knew all along it was a lie. Example: Amy Poehler and Will Arnett are getting divorced. Hollywood love really doesn't exist. #ThereIsNoNatalie

3.     He lived in the penthouse of the Four Seasons beceause his parents owned hotels all around the world and he was filthy rich. This alone wouldn’t be so horrendous, because The OC was pretty much all about wealthy people, but Oliver flaunted his money. But he didn’t flaunt it in an obvious way, like, making it rain up in here. No, he just casually dropped into conversations lines about gallivanting across Europe, taking lavish vacations to swanky resorts every other weekend, and knowing the manager of famous bands. In this way, once you complied and went to his hotel suite or to the Rooney concert with him or on a grand European excursion, you became his 21^st-century slave, because he now owned you because you would never be able to afford this without his seemingly selfless but actually very selfish display of fake friendship.

4.     Substance abuser. This alone wouldn’t be horrendous, but he used his past and present addictions to garner sympathy from Marissa et. al, which is sociopathic on a very basic level.

5.     HE FAKED HIS OWN SUICIDE ATTEMPT. We're now moving into a whole new kind of crazy wacko nutjob territory.

6.     He played chicken with Ryan in a golf cart and nearly killed him! Kid is certifiable. 

7.     He held Marissa hostage, threatening to kill himself, if she ever left to, God forbid, go to school or go home or go to the bathroom or something. This scene is one of the few times I actually feel sorry for Marissa, but then I remember she’s a moron and how didn’t she see this coming, so I feel less sorry for her. The other new hashtag I’m starting is #RyanHesGotAGun, which should be used in situations where someone (name may or may not be Oliver) reveals an object (may or may not be a gun) that is so surprising/[insert other emotion here] that you can’t wait to tell another person (name may or may not be Ryan). Example: Brittany just showed me the note from Brendan and now I have to go tell Brandy! #RyanHesGotAGun (It could get confusing, but if #WayHarshTai can move back into the Twitter lexicon, so can this.) 

"Bye Ryan"

8.     He single-handedly made every other person on the show, even Ryan, seem crazy. God, the way Ryan growls at him  like a Doberman at the end of The Rivals (“Stay away from her! Stay away from herrrr”) or his Bring It On-reminiscent dialogue in The Truth (“Oliver? It hasn’t even begun.”) makes me really dislike Ryan. Also obviously every other person in the universe of the show is rendered unlikeable because no one even gives Ryan the benefit of the doubt, especially and most importantly Seth. I can expect and even tolerate the ignorance of Marissa (because I did, for three seasons, and God is that all it was?!), but the fact that everyone else seemed like a jerk for not believing Ryan really brought the final three episodes of Oliver’s arc way down.

And that—the fact that Oliver casts a ginormous blazer-clad shadow over Newport Beach for six painful episodes in the middle of season one—makes him a truly wonderful (in the worst sense of the word) villain. He seemed to relish his role as group sociopath (maybe every clique should have one). He worked Marissa like a puppet-master (she probably weighed as much) and his sense of entitlement is cringe-worthy.  

FYI: Josh Schwartz, the creator of The OC, has stated that the character of Oliver was "based on a guy... a friend of mine dated who faked having cancer to [hang on to her]." That this type of crazy exists in the real world is kind of nauseating. 

Most villains in novels, movies, or TV shows at least have some bit of grey area associated with their respective villainy. A certain detail is revealed about them that justifies their evil. Even with Voldemort, although he’s obviously a much worse villain than Oliver, I don’t feel this unhealthy vitriol toward him. Like, I was happy when he died, but reading about it on paper is much different than seeing it realized on a screen in front of you. Oliver was evil through-and-through. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a horcrux out of Marissa’s flask or something so that he could always be with her, in fractured spirit.

I’m also able to trace every bad thing that happened to characters on this show (whether or not they were good or bad storylines for the audience to watch) to this dreadful person. Examples:

1.     Theresa: never would have become involved with Ryan if he hadn’t broken up with Marissa because of Oliver. Also, her son’s abandonment issues as a result of his mother telling his father (falsely) that she had miscarried, prompting said father to leave and never even send a birthday card.

2.     Kirsten’s alcoholism: greatly spurred by her issues with Sandy in season two which originated when Seth ran away because Ryan had left to be with Theresa, who was pregnant with his child. 

3.     Marissa dying: This is like finding the trail from Chloe the Xerox girl to Rachel in Friends. Here goes: Marissa and Ryan break up the second time when Ryan leaves to go be with a pregnant Theresa. This sends Marissa down on an awful spiral of alcoholism, sexual promiscuity/exploration, and general annoyingness. After ending things with Alex she gets back with Ryan but things are still sort of awkward and in an effort to bring herself closer to Ryan she befriends Ryan’s brother Trey (ex-convict, cocaine addict), who misinterprets her friendship and attempts to rape her. Ryan finds out and thenhe and Trey get into a fight that ends with Marissa shooting Trey. She is expelled from school for the shooting and is forced to attend nasty public school! There she meets Johnny and her eventual killer, Volchok. Of course Marissa and Ryan break up again (because of Johnny, because once again Marissa doesn’t understand how loveable teenage boys find her) and Marissa takes up with Volchok. But she break up with him, because he’s on drugs and gross—and also Ryan’s rage issues resurface  when he gets into a fight with Volchok that’s eerily reminiscent of his fight with Trey. This all leads Volchok to want to exact revenge on Ryan by getting Marissa back, and he displays this by running them off the road and thenMarissa dies. THAT’S THE TRAIL, I DID IT!

4.     Of course, as a result of #3, Summer, Ryan, and Julie’s depressions after Marissa dies are effects, too. SO MUCH UNHAPPINESS.

At least he's self-aware??

In conclusion, if you read all this and still don’t believe Oliver is the worst villain of all time (besides Voldemort) then there’s no hope for you.

Just take a look at this picture and tell me you’re not legitimately creeped. 

 

He'll watch you while you sleep.

Homeland: My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

If you follow my Twitter feed or have even talked to me in the last two weeks, you already know about my Homeland obsession. Homeland—this most brilliant of a television show that it seems almost an injustice to call it just a television show; it’s a work of art, to be sure—has cast me under its spell.

I figured it was worth checking out after it won all those Emmys (including but not limited to Best Drama, Best Actress for Claire Danes aka my new girl crush, and Best Actor for Damian Lewis). Plus I get Showtime on Demand and after a hellish week of tests and projects I was left with a week nearly entirely free. So it was a perfect storm for me to catch up on the show just as the second season was getting underway.

I admit a part of me just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Plus Homeland is as classy as TV can get really. Watching shows like Mad Men and Homeland allows me to rationalize by guilty pleasure viewing of I-can’t-explain-why-I-find-this-so-captivating entertainment like Real Housewives of Anywhere reunions and anything with a Kardashian sister.  

But what I got was a show so smart, so surprising, so intensely good that it’s all nearly all I’ve been thinking about lately. In the span of three days I watched all of the series’ (then) 14 episodes.

The story, if you’re unaware, is about a Marine sergeant (played by Lewis) named Nicholas Brody who was taken prisoner in Iraq for 8 years. He is eventually rescued and returns to America, but CIA agent Carrie Mathison suspects he’s actually been turned and is involved in a terrorist plot on American soil. Oh, and also Carrie is bipolar so she’s a somewhat unreliable narrator. But to sum up the show in just a few short sentences would be to entirely gloss over all of its subtleties and nuances that the writing and tremendous acting by the cast illuminate.

Claire Danes is simply mesmerizing in this role. She’s so badass, so I-can’t-believe-she-just-went-there, so utterly awesome. And she portrays Carrie’s mental illness with such depth and layers, it’s captivating to watch. In an interview, co-creator and showrunner Alex Gansa described Claire’s performance: “I got a letter from somebody who said she’s bipolar herself, and she said Claire’s performance was so real to her that she worries for Claire’s sanity.” That sums it up pretty perfectly. She just owns this role, and it’s so fun to wach. Plus, this girl has crazy eyes and an awesome cry-face.

Claire Danes' rather crazy eyes

 

But you can’t ignore the amazing work of the rest of the cast, as well as the team of writers. Their persistence to just “go there,” to constantly subvert your expectations and realize, Oh this is so much better than what I was expecting, is probably the show’s greatest asset. So often with television you think you know what’s coming, what could be, but Homeland is constantly one step ahead. It’s an awesome ride, to be sure.

Plus, don’t we all need a reason to look forward to Sunday nights?

So please, if you’re not watching this show, get thee to a television ASAP. You can thank me later. 

[/end sales pitch]

[Image 1] [Image 2]

Today.

I had almost forgotten that today was September 11.

For the past 11 years, for some reason, I've been deeply interested in the events of that day. I cannot explain why. Maybe because it seemed the first defining moment of my life. People of generations before mine talk about the moment when they learned JFK was shot or when the Challenger shuttle exploded. My generation remembers the moment they learned the towers had fallen.

I remember that day almost as vividly eleven years later as I do last Tuesday. I remember that I was wearing--ironically, unknowingly--a shirt with an American flag on it. I remember hearing about the attacks after school. I was in the fourth grade. I had never even heard of the Twin Towers before, and I remember feeling guilty because of that.

I remember sitting on the floor in the family room, pouring over the newspaper, trying to understand. I didn't understand then. And I remember the aftermath, too. I had horrible nightmares for weeks.

I think that's why that day--and everything leading up to and following it--have captured me. It was an attempt to understand, to process.

But I woke up this morning as if it was any other Tuesday (it's not). It wasn't until a few hours into my day that I was reminded that, yes, today was not just another September day. My first reminder was this affecting blog entry. And then, passing by the small (but too large) square of miniature American flags on a patch of campus grass.

Now there are these photos-in-photos from Dear Photograph (you should see them for yourself).

They more eloquently capture what I am trying to. That we didn't understand anything then, that we still don't understand everything now, that there will always be something missing.

Down Memory Lane

This week was one of those weeks where it was Monday night and I already felt like I might not make it. I think we all have those weeks sometimes, although this one was particularly stressful since it included not one but two trips to the Fulton County courthouse to renew my passport. Judging by the amount of hoops the U.S. makes you jump through just to renew your passport, it's a wonder anyone ever leaves this country. Also, to whomever formatted the street layout in downtown Atlanta: no one likes you. Also, thank God for Steve Jobs and the iPhone or I might still be in Grant Park, hopelessly lost (I could have sworn I was heading north, not south). Suffice it to say I got lost several times in the labyrinth that is downtown Atlanta (even with my iPhone).

It's all over now though, so there's that.

But as I studied for my two tests and quizzes this week, struggling to remember the difference between the format file data took whether or not I used readline() or readlines() in Python, or the difference between the "foot in the door" and "door in the face" psychology techniques, I got to thinking: how much valuable, relevant information is being pushed out of my brain because my stubborn mind refuses to let go of the the name and order of every episode from The O.C., thousands of Friends lines, and the lyrics to N*Sync's "Pop"?

I admit this week was somewhat of a trip down memory lane for me. When I went home this past weekend, my mom gave me four DVDs that contained all the music on our (very) old home computer. The music I listened to in middle and high school. So, basically, every song that was ever on The O.C. (Hey, I'm just keeping it real here.)

I inserted one of the DVDs Monday morning and was quite literally overwhelmed with joy when I spotted several Patrick Park songs, close to all of The Shins' albums, and a few lost jems ("Good Day" by Tally Hall, where have you been the last five years of my life?!). It was very nostalgic. And only slightly embarrassing.

Just a few days later, on February 22nd, marked five years since the series finale of The O.C. You'll notice most of my nostalgia centers around The O.C. and if you knew ninth-grade-era me, you wouldn't be surprised. I clearly recall that day five years ago when I, curled up in the fetal position, cried until I couldn't breathe as the final credits rolled, not even comforted by my own mother. "I can't... believe... it's... overrrrr," I wailed. My mother probably thought I had finally lost my mind.

Even as I type this now, I can't help but laugh at how totally obsessed I was with that show. I made it my personal mission to convert nearly everyone I knew to devoted O.C. fans, calling my mission "paying it forward." I even, for a brief period anyway, was convinced that I wanted to become a television writer. Every time I went to Barnes & Noble I made a beeline for the TV Writing section and intensely read every "How to Become a Television Drama Writer"-type book I could find. I compiled a master O.C. playlist filled with 95% of the songs ever on the show, in order. I made it a life goal to amass the other five percent, although I never could (oh, Alexandra Patsavas (the music supervisor, for those out of the loop, and yes, of course I still remember her name!), you made it so hard). I also memorized the scene in which every song played.

I wrote fan fiction.

That alone should tell you how invested I was in this series. And I'd be lying if I told you that I don't wish I could still read it. It would be simultaneously mortifying/awesome.

But I digress. These days I find myself more obsessed with food blogs and schoolwork than teen melodramas. How did I ever have the time to become so devoted to a television series of all things? These days I find it hard enough to just keep up with one show.

If there's one thing I'm not, it's a casual viewer. If I get into a TV show, I really get into it. I re-watch the seasons over and over again, read all the viewer forums (never actually commenting), and follow all the cast members on Twitter. It's a sickness, really. But it makes me me. It's my underlying passion and desire to know everything about a subject that I can (which also manifests itself in my love of reading and re-reading every Cook's Illustrated magazine and cookbook until the write-ups become comfortably familiar).

So this morning, when I caught ten minutes of an O.C. episode (episode 1.15, "The Third Wheel," and no I didn't need to look that up), I felt transported back to the eighth grade, when my biggest life dramas were wondering whether Ryan and Marissa would ever work things out (and also when I would ever get my braces off). It was the best way to start my day.

Time flies. When did I become so old?

P.S. My manifesto, circa 2008, only shared because I value truth and honesty. Warning: no tl;dr version is available.

One Simple Change

This has not been a good week.

Sorry to be semi-depressing, but it really hasn't.

I was feeling the stress come on in full force Monday night as I made my way back to my apartment after a long, exhausting day. I had just been through a less-than-stellar Chemistry recitation. The culmination of lab reports, crazy homework coding assignments (made only slightly better by the references to Harry Potter, but still), tests, and quizzes combined to make me feel as though I might be sick. To be clear, this never ever happens to me. While I am absolutely the type of person who totally zones in during times of stress, only coming up for food and water, I rarely feel the physical ramifications of too much stress and anxiety.

But Monday was different. Do you ever have your feelings hurt or your ego bruised and then that's all you can think about for the rest of the day? That's me. It stays with me like a permanent lump in my throat. I'm a people pleaser, through and through. And my feelings were hurt. And then I got frustrated. And then I got angry.

And then I read this.

One simple change: let it go. Easier said than done, I must admit, but at the time, it really struck me. Just let it go, Sara. 

And wouldn't you know, once I committed to letting it go, I no longer felt so angry or frustrated or stressed. I suddenly felt determined, like I could overcome this week.

It was a simple change, but it made a big difference.

Breaking the Silence

Wow.

It’s been a while.

More than two months, which is kind of shameful. A semester has come and gone, and a new one has started. Sixteen credit hours again. I’m getting into the swing of it, establishing a routine that seems to work well. (Yet I, in an obvious state of deliriousness, decided it’d be fun to read 265 pages of a business novel (apparently this genre exists) in five days, on top of lab reports (torturous, in case you were wondering), exams, and other homework.)

The good news is that this semester is already a million times better than the last, and it’s only been four weeks. I think I prefer the more relaxed pace of spring semester over the rushed and, while completely exciting, rather hectic and stressful fall semester (football games and all).

While I’ve been away, there’s certainly not been a lack of delicious cooking. There was a divine gingerbread apple upside down cake, lots of Thanksgiving deliciousness, a really awesome cranberry wild rice, better-than-Starbucks cranberry bliss bars, and plenty of soup. And also my beginning-of-the-semester treat to myself: cheesecake for dinner, enjoyed while watching Friends in bed. Don’t judge.

But there’s also been lots of oatmeal. A lot. It’s almost too embarrassing to admit how much.

...

You’re probably noticing a few changes in this space, too. I’ve thought a lot about these changes. I think it was important for me to take a break from this blog for an extended period. It really made me miss it.

I’m the kind of person who loves the idea of keeping a journal but is awful at keeping one. For this reason I really admire my mom, who has had a blog for nearly five years (!) and a series of Moleskine journals documenting the last five-plus years of her life.

If I’ve learned anything over these last two months of hibernation, it’s that I really miss blogging. I miss the connections I get to make with other bloggers, the thrill of seeing a creation published, and, most of all, the writing process. Writing is my oldest passion; it’s something I’ve kept with me in one form or another for half of my life. I really missed it.

When I started this blog eighteen months ago I wanted it to be strictly food-driven. I’m not actually sure why I thought keeping a food blog would be so easy while starting college, but then again I had a lot of expectations of college life dashed when I was a freshman.

But, as an engineering student, I’ve found that I really need a creative outlet. There’s only so many computer science and stochastics problems I can do before I go totally crazy. I am a soulful college girl, after all.

I’m going to see how it goes, but for now I want to shift the focus from cooking and baking to my life—everything from the music I’ve been listening to, cool things I stumble upon (but not on StumbleUpon, a site I really loathe), and other random bits and pieces. And, I suspect, from time to time there will also be a few culinary creations, because I might be the only person who is completely inspired by the thought of a graham cracker “cookie” that is legitimately just a buttery graham cracker crust. (Can someone please make this happen? Am I totally crazy for having craved this for the last two weeks?!)

So welcome to the new soulful college girl. I hope you like what you find here.

Being Thankful

A few days ago I read a post by Jennifer Perillo, who writes In Jennie's Kitchen. If you read lots of food blogs, you've probably heard Jennie's story; this past August, her husband died unexpectedly from a heart attack, and she quickly became a single mother to her two young daughters. It's a heartbreaking story, and though I'd never read her blog before, I began to after that. I'm not sure why I did, but in the past three months I've grown to look forward to her posts. They're filled with raw emotion; she doesn't sugarcoat anything; to be honest, some of the posts can be downright difficult to get through. The compassion, the pain, and the emotion you feel for this distant stranger can be pretty startling.

Anyway, this past week Jennie posted about being thankful for everything she has in her life, and she encouraged her readers to do the same this Thanksgiving. "Take a moment and think about everything that you feel fortunate for in your life," writes Jennie. "Then, think about the millions of voids that will be on Thanksgiving tables around the country."

In our family, we like to go around the table and each say what we are thankful for. It's pretty cheesy, yes, but it does allow us to reflect on everything we have. Usually, I say something like "I'm so grateful for all the delicious food we're about to eat," which is the truth. But my response never really delves deeper than that.

I don't often reflect on all the blessings in my life. I have so many. My education. My family and friends. A warm bed to sleep in at night. It can be really easy to turn these wonderful things around, though.

Classes are too hard. 

Too much family time. 

Why do I have to get out of bed so early? 

I've thought all of these things before. Actually, I've probably thought all of them in the past week (especially the first and last).

A few days ago I was in a real panic to decide what to make for dessert for Thanksgiving. I'd really wanted to make the brown butter tarts that I'd had as my birthday "cake," but I wasn't getting a response from the pastry chef at the restaurant where they're made. So I was frantically searching for an alternative. Will pie be too hard? Is crisp too boring? Are two springform pan desserts too similar? It was a whirlwind of self-inflicted stress.

And then I stopped searching for a while. Why was I making such a big deal about this Thanksgiving dessert? How was this in the spirit of Thanksgiving at all? How many people across America would gladly take any Thanksgiving dessert, be it pie, cake, fruit, or otherwise? How many people across America wouldn't even be partaking in a Thanksgiving feast? How many people around the world wouldn't be able to spend the day with their family? It was humbling to think about the embarrassment of riches I take for granted, to shift my perspective just a tad and realize how fortunate I am to consider my second dessert problem a problem at all.

This Thanksgiving will be a strange one at our home. For the first time, it will be only my parents and me, as my sister can't make the trip from Los Angeles to Atlanta. It will be a quiet day, for sure, but it won't make me love Thanksgiving any less.

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday. I love the food, of course. The week-plus of leftovers that ensue. I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and learning how to make carrot ring alongside my mom. And watching all the Friends Thanksgiving episodes and casually viewing the football games and seeing Miracle on 34th Street for the first time this holiday season. And taking a walk in the crisp morning before hunkering down in the kitchen. Having a peaceful and conversation-filled meal with my family. Staying at home. These are only some of the things I'm thankful for this year. They may seem little, but together they make Thanksgiving what it is, small memories I'll take with me in a few years when I have my own Thanksgiving dinner and begin to form my own traditions.

Last Thanksgiving I invited my Chinese roommate Chen to our home for Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful experience for both of us: Chen got to experience "real American Thanksgiving food" and I got to show it to her. Undoubtedly it's a Thanksgiving I won't soon forget.

As next Thursday approaches, I want to know: what are you thankful for? 

Around Here

Today I thought I'd share a few things I've been into lately. Some food-related things, some not.

1. A few weeks ago I stumbled upon Autumn Reeser's blog. You're probably saying "Who?" right now, but for the clueless out there she played Taylor Townsend on The O.C. and as such was the inspiration behind this blog. So it all feels very karmic or fateful or whatever the correct term is that she, too, has a blog. And now she is both married and has a baby son, so I feel very old. She lives in Los Angeles and still acts, but I think it's so cool to hear about her daily life and thoughts. (This is probably why I like Twitter so much.) Give it a read if you can.

2. Something else that makes me feel old: Friends now comes on Nick at Nite. To me this means it's on the level of All in the Family and The Cosby Show, which were shown late on night when I was really young and therefore meant they were practically ancient. I still remember when Friends would come on every weekday on TBS at 7 o'clock (primetime), which meant that was when our family ate dinner. Heck, I still remember the fourth season finale in London at Ross' wedding when he says Rachel's name. That was 1997, so I wasn't even in elementary school then. The concept of a season finale was totally lost on me (What do you mean we have to wait four months to find out what happens next?). Friends was the first show I ever truly followed, and it will always have a special place in my heart. It's striking to me that almost ten years after the series finale (and twenty years since the series premiere) it's still hilarious to me. My parents sometimes watch reruns of MASH, and I'm always amazed at how unfunny it is. Was it always that way or has our humor evolved that much in the past thirty years? I could go on about my love for Friends, but I'll leave you with a few of my favorite videos instead: "PIVOT" / "PIVOT" bloopers / "Meat? Good" / "Misshapen claw" / "Phoebe's Christmas Song" / "A lot of information" / A hilarious but subtle opener

2. I'm loving anything by Bon Iver these days. Their songs are so beautiful it hurts. The perfect soundtrack for autumn. Check out "Michicant" (video) and "Fall Creek Boys Choir." So good.

3. I'm a big fan of Dana Velden's "Weekend Meditation" posts over at The Kitchn, and this week she also wrote a "Midweek Meditation." I love her writing - her prose is such an inspiration. 

4. Mindy Kaling's new book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? is one I'm dying to read. God, I love her. Read an excerpt here.

5. Ditto the new Serious Eats book.

6. New blog obsession: Scarletta Bakes. It's like Joy the Baker moved to the Southwest. So witty, creative, and, most importantly, she makes delicious food.

7. I'm getting antsy and anxious about Thanksgiving. It's less than two weeks away! How did this happen? Our menu is pretty much set in stone from year to year, but I have free reign over desserts, and my indecisive self usually waits until the week before to decide what to make. There's always pumpkin cheesecake, and this year I'm hoping for brown butter tarts (crossing my fingers I can get the original recipe straight from the source). Otherwise, it may finally, after several years of "yes, this is the year I'll make it," be time for Cranberry, Almond, and Cinnamon Tart. Lately I've been in love with everything deep-dish. There's something so wonderful about baking a pie in a springform pan: more buttery crust (duh)!

8. Today Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 comes out on DVD. I'm dying to see it again. Sometimes I kick myself for having waited so long to read the Harry Potter books. So, to close, one of my favorite HP-related links: J.K. Rowling's Harvard Commencement Speech. If you only actually click over to one of the (many) links in this post, make it be this one. You'll be left in awe and inspired.

For Thursday

I came across this lovely piece a few days ago. It’s part of the Weekend Meditation series written by Dana Velden over at The Kitchn. Dana has a way with prose that is really inspirational. Just the thing to get through the rest of the week.

“On Counting What Is Precious” by Dana Velden

In famine, the number of dried beans in the cupboard; in abundance, piles of chicken bones and empty wine bottles. In sorrow, so many tears that they over-salt the soup; in happiness, the number of place settings at a wedding feast. In middle age, candles on the cake; in youth, the frosting roses. In celebration, bubbles in a champagne glass; in mourning, the number of bites taken from a sandwich, delivered to your door draped in a napkin (none).

In planting, the number of seeds and rows; in harvest, the bushels of fruits and vegetables. In sickness, the spoonfuls of weak broth that are managed to be swallowed; in health, the number of courses at the fancy bistro plus a little nightcap at the tavern down the street. In winter, three puffs of breath blown on the surface of hot chocolate; in the summer, five ice cubes in the tall glass of lemonade. In trust, everything; in suspicion, nothing.

In babyhood, the number of tiny spoons of stewed carrots that actually make it into the mouth; in old age, the number of tiny spoons of stewed carrots that actually make it into the mouth mixed with the memories of parties and holidays and feasts beyond compare. In life, the uncountable stream of nourishment that sustains, enlivens, entertains, celebrates; in death, well, we can't know that yet. 

In good times, we grow distracted and we forget to count; in bad times, we can only remember and wish we had.

Pogo.

I'll just go ahead and get this out of the way: this post is not about food. At all. I try hard to keep this space as much about food as possible and not fill it with random thoughts and ramblings, but I must make an exception. I just must share this with you. (Prepare yourself for links galore!)

About a week ago I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed and came upon a friend's post of a video of an Alice in Wonderland mash-up-type video. Intrigued, I clicked on over to YouTube and proceeded to spend the next two hours completely entranced by the undeniably catchy music of Nick Bertke, or Pogo. Bertke is a master of taking short sound clips from movies and television shows (and sometimes just everyday life), mixing them, adding beats, sine waves, and a whole bunch of stuff that I can't exactly wrap my head around, and composing them into a final product that is part electronica, part instrumental, and altogether completely addicting. (And it's entirely possible that, since his first video was posted three years ago and he's touring in North America, everyone already knows about this guy, and I'm extremely late to jump on the bandwagon, but in the case that you haven't....) Take a listen:

See what I mean? I find myself unintentionally bobbing my head and mouthing the nonsensical "lyrics" to the tracks throughout the day. Embarassing? Sure. But I can't get enough of this guy's music. True talent here.

Ironically enough, most of the movies Bertke uses - Disney classics like Mary Poppins or Snow White or 90's throwbacks like The Little Princess or Hook - are movies that I really, really dislike. (That probably makes me a bad child of the 90's, but it's the truth.) For example, as much as I enjoy "Expialidocious," I absolutely despise Mary Poppins, or the slowest and most drawn-out Disney movie ever. I recently suffered through watched this movie and for some reason I remember it ending after Mary Poppins, Dick Van Dyke, and the children jump into the painting. Imagine my disbelief when I realize that that's only about the halfway point! Not even knowing where "tuppence a bag" (fast forward a minute) actually came from made up for the dullness of the rest of the movie.

Another example: Hook. You might think that the fantasy and nostalgia of this Disney-inspired movie would be a winning combination to a child. You'd be wholly wrong. Note to Steven Spielberg: do not include in a family movie that children will see a part in which Captain Hook forces a sorry pirate (actually played by  Glenn Close - always thought "he" looked a little feminine but whoa!) into a tiny trunk and then stuffs it with scorpions. Nightmares, people, nightmares. The Boo Box still sends shivers up my spine. Still, I love Pogo's "Bangarang."

Similarly, you may think that The Little Princess would be a fantastic movie for a little girl to watch. It's a kid movie for sure. Well, not for this kid. Along with The Secret Garden (creepy), I found The Little Princess emotionally scarring as a girl. Since the main character's name was Sara (important to note: without the "h"), I for some reason felt that my fate was intrinsically linked to hers. I felt like, after I watched this movie, I would be banished to the attic, hunted down by the police, and verbally and physically abused by an evil Miss Minchin clone. No matter that the movie actually has a happy ending; getting there was just too painful. But "Whisperlude" is one of my favorite Pogo mixes.

Of course, now I've gone on and rambled random thoughts on the fragility of my childhood emotions, and I hope you're still reading. Don't let your childhood (or current) prejudices keep you from giving these mixes a listen. From Up to Toy Story to Harry Potter to Dexter to The King and I, Bertke does it all, and he does it flawlessly. You can download the mixes here.

In fact, given my recent obsession with all of these mixes, I almost feel like I should go back and give some of these movies a second chance, what with my new-found appreciation for the wealth of unique sounds they provide. Almost.