Sunday, December 7, 2008
Anyone else bored?
It's the holiday season and another year is wrapping up. I've made enough progress on my determinations that I'm inclined to issue them anew in the coming year to challenge myself to live even better next year than this year. I'm a little bored with therapists, lightness and dark, and feeling a little silly for exploring those things over and over again in this space. In some respect I think I should get the wheels on and get moving instead of taking you through how I'm building the car.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Restaurant review: Konak
Konak is a Turkish place a few blocks away that I've been walking past for months now and I decided tonight to finally give it a try. I'll caveat what follows thusly; I'm not a professional eater and perhaps lack a sophisticated palette. I have been known to microwave steaks and hamburgers and some may conclude that alone disqualifies me from being able to register an opinion on the culinary talents of others.
The venue is great. The decor is appropriately ethnic without being gaudy and it seems in that respect to be a great date place. There is a bar out front with a good milling around area and seems like it would be an ideal happy hour spot because the groups couldn't get too big. There was a guitarist there who also sang what I am guessing were old standards in Turkish but between every traditional song, he would play a bar or two from something contemporary--something like Never Never Land from Metallica. I thought--wait a minute, he's playing Metalica, then he would segue into another foreign language ballad before I could get out my lighter or push the table back to headbang.
But back to the food. The popularity of chains like Lebanese Taverna and other offerings from the middle, near, and far east is in their offering of dishes that are the most western which turns out to be rice/lamb/beef/chicken and rice or rice/lamb/beef/chicken and pita bread of some sort. For folks who want to show off, they can always order falafel, babaganush, or humus, but you really can't go wrong with a meat/starch combo from any menu from any corner of the world. Konak was no exception in their offering of the classic combos but they also offered traditional fare, some of which came "highly recommended" on the menu. I should have asked why it was highly recommended but I'll know better next time. So I ordered per the menu on their website:
Iskender Kebob (Highly Recommended)
Thinly sliced-lightly buttered pide bread topped with Famous Turkish Gyro (Doner Kebob), served with tomato sauce and homemade plain yogurt on the side in a special dish
When it arrived in what was indeed a special and splendid silver dish, I had my choice of additional butter and/or tomato sauce to pour on top. I told them I had never had the dish before and requested their recommendation and got melted butter poured on top of what ended up being a lukewarm chipped beef open faced sandwich with a large side helping of yogurt. There was a charred green chili and half a tomato on the plate as well. The chili tasted like burnt paper and the tomato with the tomato sauce was a bit too much. I ate quickly because arriving lukewarm, it was in my best interest to consume it quickly. I was also starving. The staff was so nice I didn't have to heart to tell them that I couldn't believe I had left my house on a snowy night to eat that crap when soup out of a can would have tasted better and I wouldn't still be burping butter laced tomatoes. I sought a redeeming note for the evening in ordering baklava and found it too, to be disappointing. It was soggy and tasted vaguely of dishwater--perhaps that was rose water gone too long but the point is that it was not good. I should have just claimed that I was full but I actually felt a pressure to finish my food, like I was dining at their house or something. Perhaps it was just the awkward courtesy of an American eating what was described to me as a traditional Turkish dish and finding it lackluster, not wanting to diss something that came so highly recommended they dare to print it on their menu. Perhaps it is Turkish humor to steer Westerners to their grossest dishes just to see them squirm when they ask how everything is. I for one will not be rushing back there but when I do, I'm sticking to the meat and bread basics.
The food is heavy in my belly and I must sleep now.
The venue is great. The decor is appropriately ethnic without being gaudy and it seems in that respect to be a great date place. There is a bar out front with a good milling around area and seems like it would be an ideal happy hour spot because the groups couldn't get too big. There was a guitarist there who also sang what I am guessing were old standards in Turkish but between every traditional song, he would play a bar or two from something contemporary--something like Never Never Land from Metallica. I thought--wait a minute, he's playing Metalica, then he would segue into another foreign language ballad before I could get out my lighter or push the table back to headbang.
But back to the food. The popularity of chains like Lebanese Taverna and other offerings from the middle, near, and far east is in their offering of dishes that are the most western which turns out to be rice/lamb/beef/chicken and rice or rice/lamb/beef/chicken and pita bread of some sort. For folks who want to show off, they can always order falafel, babaganush, or humus, but you really can't go wrong with a meat/starch combo from any menu from any corner of the world. Konak was no exception in their offering of the classic combos but they also offered traditional fare, some of which came "highly recommended" on the menu. I should have asked why it was highly recommended but I'll know better next time. So I ordered per the menu on their website:
Iskender Kebob (Highly Recommended)
Thinly sliced-lightly buttered pide bread topped with Famous Turkish Gyro (Doner Kebob), served with tomato sauce and homemade plain yogurt on the side in a special dish
When it arrived in what was indeed a special and splendid silver dish, I had my choice of additional butter and/or tomato sauce to pour on top. I told them I had never had the dish before and requested their recommendation and got melted butter poured on top of what ended up being a lukewarm chipped beef open faced sandwich with a large side helping of yogurt. There was a charred green chili and half a tomato on the plate as well. The chili tasted like burnt paper and the tomato with the tomato sauce was a bit too much. I ate quickly because arriving lukewarm, it was in my best interest to consume it quickly. I was also starving. The staff was so nice I didn't have to heart to tell them that I couldn't believe I had left my house on a snowy night to eat that crap when soup out of a can would have tasted better and I wouldn't still be burping butter laced tomatoes. I sought a redeeming note for the evening in ordering baklava and found it too, to be disappointing. It was soggy and tasted vaguely of dishwater--perhaps that was rose water gone too long but the point is that it was not good. I should have just claimed that I was full but I actually felt a pressure to finish my food, like I was dining at their house or something. Perhaps it was just the awkward courtesy of an American eating what was described to me as a traditional Turkish dish and finding it lackluster, not wanting to diss something that came so highly recommended they dare to print it on their menu. Perhaps it is Turkish humor to steer Westerners to their grossest dishes just to see them squirm when they ask how everything is. I for one will not be rushing back there but when I do, I'm sticking to the meat and bread basics.
The food is heavy in my belly and I must sleep now.
Ninja tools: sacks of poop
I'm a single gal who walks alone in the dark every single day. It just comes with the territory of having a dog. Though my dog is also a ninja, I think it wise to supplement her deadly cunning and my crazy mad skills with a back-up arsenal of ninja tools. I am a conscientious ninja and thus everyday can be found carrying a sack of poop around to deposit in the nearest trash can. One day it occurred to me that this is a weapon. Imagine a would-be attacker being smacked in the face with a sack of dog crap that may even explode upon impact. Imagine attaching these ninja crap sacks to nunchukkas. I know, awesome right?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
This day, Framed in Light* pt2
So I loved the last sentence in the previous post because it is pure poetry to me. "Maybe take a look in the shadows for something you can use, because it looks like the light has exhausted its utility." Even though I disagree, I think it is beautiful writing. The commenter is right, I don't need a therapist or a companion. I want them. I want them because I think I will be better, that life will be better, as a result of knowing them. I'm happy right now sitting in my bed typing away. I'm clean, well fed, and warm. I can make noises and smells with abandon and turn out the lights when I'm good and ready. Every couple I know relishes their time away from one another to be as I am every day so it really isn't a bad way to live. But it's my default setting. And it is harder to make company than it is to make space so when I tire of being alone it's not as easily remedied. As a default position, too much time alone often becomes simply lonely.
Shadow vs Light. I may spend a lot of time wondering and trying to be 'right' but I don't think that time is spent in the light. In fact those might be the shadows you speak of. And a little sin? I assume (fully aware of what that makes out of you and me) that you mean debauchery and high-living. The sort of stuff that makes the stories that make redemption so interesting and compelling. I'm sure I'm capable of debauchery beyond your imagination and perhaps shouldn't taunt it by declaring myself beyond its temptation. When I've found myself courting the bad girl within, it has never been out of desire to be that girl because I already am her. I've just found a less obvious way to sublimate the same desires and seek the same protection that the 'bad girl' does with cleaner execution and clarity. I court her for her ability to be so obviously flawed, so vulnerable. People may talk as if they don't desire these things but it is only now dawning on me that people don't fall in love with perfection. Perfection is inaccessible and worrisome. I see who people chose to spend their lives with and find myself surprised with what people are willing to live with just to be with the person that their heart belongs to. I don't believe my story gets interesting in the shadows, I've been hiding there for some time and know them cold. I'm afraid of what I and others will see and accept or reject when I embrace the light. It is the light that ices my blood.
Shadow vs Light. I may spend a lot of time wondering and trying to be 'right' but I don't think that time is spent in the light. In fact those might be the shadows you speak of. And a little sin? I assume (fully aware of what that makes out of you and me) that you mean debauchery and high-living. The sort of stuff that makes the stories that make redemption so interesting and compelling. I'm sure I'm capable of debauchery beyond your imagination and perhaps shouldn't taunt it by declaring myself beyond its temptation. When I've found myself courting the bad girl within, it has never been out of desire to be that girl because I already am her. I've just found a less obvious way to sublimate the same desires and seek the same protection that the 'bad girl' does with cleaner execution and clarity. I court her for her ability to be so obviously flawed, so vulnerable. People may talk as if they don't desire these things but it is only now dawning on me that people don't fall in love with perfection. Perfection is inaccessible and worrisome. I see who people chose to spend their lives with and find myself surprised with what people are willing to live with just to be with the person that their heart belongs to. I don't believe my story gets interesting in the shadows, I've been hiding there for some time and know them cold. I'm afraid of what I and others will see and accept or reject when I embrace the light. It is the light that ices my blood.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
This day, Framed in Light*
I love this comment from the other blog:
"You don't need a therapist. You don't need a companion either. How can the solution to a person's problems be the addition of problems from a whole new source. I think you need the pursuit of power, blind ambition, vanity, rage. Sin, a little bit more sin to balance the flavor of your life. Maybe take a look in the shadows for something you can use, because it looks like the light has exhausted its utility."
The last sentence is my absolute favorite. If I was into tattoos, optional pain, and making Jesus cry, I would totally get that put somewhere on my body.
Right now the dog is silently demanding to be walked by invoking a civil rights era sit-in at my bedroom door. More on that great comment later.
*Gianna Russo wrote a poem by this title. I read it as a prompt in a writer's workshop and the title stuck with me. You can read her poem here
"You don't need a therapist. You don't need a companion either. How can the solution to a person's problems be the addition of problems from a whole new source. I think you need the pursuit of power, blind ambition, vanity, rage. Sin, a little bit more sin to balance the flavor of your life. Maybe take a look in the shadows for something you can use, because it looks like the light has exhausted its utility."
The last sentence is my absolute favorite. If I was into tattoos, optional pain, and making Jesus cry, I would totally get that put somewhere on my body.
Right now the dog is silently demanding to be walked by invoking a civil rights era sit-in at my bedroom door. More on that great comment later.
*Gianna Russo wrote a poem by this title. I read it as a prompt in a writer's workshop and the title stuck with me. You can read her poem here
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Castron
At the risk of ruining it by calling attention to it, I want to note how happy I am to have my brother in the blogsphere though according to Wired magazine, we are both so 2004. Whatever, we bloom late in everything else, why should this be any different? His blog, I've introduced previously but didn't mention that we were related. You should read it. What I like about it as his sister is the ability to both see another side of one another and comment on one another's posts. Anybody who reads his posts or comments will know why I'm a little threatened by both his writing and his insight. His latest musings had me smiling every time I thought of the title of the post, Nervous about chicken. His comments on the other blog had me blown away by the insight and amused by his lack of maturity as it concerns the thought of me and any guy.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Crush
My girl crush on Tina Fey continues. I just read the Vanity Fair article on her and had to talk myself out of writing her fan mail. She has no idea that I think I'm her black alter-ego. I thought about that sense of kinship and then kind of talked myself out of it, and not just because I'm not Greek or German or any combination of the two (that I am aware of). I talked myself out of it because I thought of other women who I don't think are as funny or likable who would claim the same kinship and decided I didn't want to be associated with them. Yes, I'm petty even in abstract. Still, I admire her and wish her continued success and freedom to create.
Speaking of generating bad karma, I just put a piece of food on top of my dog's head. She looked at me with liquid brown eyes like, 'how will I get this delectable morsel from my head' and I thought, yep, I'll be stepping in some dog shit courtesy of that mean move. She incidentally bent her head down and used her paw to get the food within seconds so maybe I'll almost step in dog poop.
Though I have vowed not to speak of a current infatuation, I'll meet myself halfway and note only that it continues, capable of sustaining itself in a vacuum. While I haven't matured enough to stop nursing these pointless, awkward, childish, time-sucks, the reality of a woman in her mid-thirties who hasn't really figured out if she wants kids is that the decision will be made for me sooner rather than later. It reminds me of movies showing the pages of a calendar flipping away with increasing speed. It's forcing me to actually think beyond the melodramatic declarations of my 20's of what I would do if I found myself single past 29. I always thought I would have time. Time to meet him, time to be sure, time to enjoy the other's company without thinking about having to make a quick decision on whether there would be kids before my body closed up shop, or before we were both not interested in being old parents with young children. Time for all that stuff to just happen without concerted effort or thought. If I never have children, never get married, it won't be a tragedy or even unfortunate, it will just be. But I do feel the proverbial clock ticking--not as much the biological one as the one who will be deciding if it is time to start using 'age-defying' soap and deodorant (when did armpits become an area where I want to look forever 25?). I'm happy now to note a little suggestion of wear in my face as I'm just fascinated with how the body changes and can't believe already that it is showing history. If I lament anything from my 20's in the looks department, it's my awkward experimentation with eyebrow waxing (think drag queen thin), not wearing a good bra, and not capitalizing on what was a great figure.
But back to the crush. What I find the most amusing and maddening about them is the filter it puts on my thoughts and the weird teenage predilection to want to write him letters. I blame every single teen movie for that. Oh, and David Archuletta's new song, Crush (which yes, I totally downloaded-see what regressive behavior does to my taste in music?). Only in movies does a well-penned letter open the door to true love with a guy who is otherwise 'just a friend' or has only a marginal awareness of your existence. I have an adult friend who still succumbs to this indulgent adolescent behavior and the results are always the same-AWKWARD. It actually didn't work when were teenagers either. As both a sender and recipient of that type of letter, I think part of its ineffectiveness lies in what it is replacing, which is actual interaction with the object of your desire. Penning an op-ed hoping to convince a guy to return your affection simply because you harbor affection for him is silly. He's bound to be flattered but embarrassed both for you and him. Trying to spend time with a guy you like and hoping that something will spark--much smarter and sometimes even works. But for now, the ipod calls and I'm going to put Crush on repeat while I do laundry and try to learn all the words before I go to bed tonight.
Speaking of generating bad karma, I just put a piece of food on top of my dog's head. She looked at me with liquid brown eyes like, 'how will I get this delectable morsel from my head' and I thought, yep, I'll be stepping in some dog shit courtesy of that mean move. She incidentally bent her head down and used her paw to get the food within seconds so maybe I'll almost step in dog poop.
Though I have vowed not to speak of a current infatuation, I'll meet myself halfway and note only that it continues, capable of sustaining itself in a vacuum. While I haven't matured enough to stop nursing these pointless, awkward, childish, time-sucks, the reality of a woman in her mid-thirties who hasn't really figured out if she wants kids is that the decision will be made for me sooner rather than later. It reminds me of movies showing the pages of a calendar flipping away with increasing speed. It's forcing me to actually think beyond the melodramatic declarations of my 20's of what I would do if I found myself single past 29. I always thought I would have time. Time to meet him, time to be sure, time to enjoy the other's company without thinking about having to make a quick decision on whether there would be kids before my body closed up shop, or before we were both not interested in being old parents with young children. Time for all that stuff to just happen without concerted effort or thought. If I never have children, never get married, it won't be a tragedy or even unfortunate, it will just be. But I do feel the proverbial clock ticking--not as much the biological one as the one who will be deciding if it is time to start using 'age-defying' soap and deodorant (when did armpits become an area where I want to look forever 25?). I'm happy now to note a little suggestion of wear in my face as I'm just fascinated with how the body changes and can't believe already that it is showing history. If I lament anything from my 20's in the looks department, it's my awkward experimentation with eyebrow waxing (think drag queen thin), not wearing a good bra, and not capitalizing on what was a great figure.
But back to the crush. What I find the most amusing and maddening about them is the filter it puts on my thoughts and the weird teenage predilection to want to write him letters. I blame every single teen movie for that. Oh, and David Archuletta's new song, Crush (which yes, I totally downloaded-see what regressive behavior does to my taste in music?). Only in movies does a well-penned letter open the door to true love with a guy who is otherwise 'just a friend' or has only a marginal awareness of your existence. I have an adult friend who still succumbs to this indulgent adolescent behavior and the results are always the same-AWKWARD. It actually didn't work when were teenagers either. As both a sender and recipient of that type of letter, I think part of its ineffectiveness lies in what it is replacing, which is actual interaction with the object of your desire. Penning an op-ed hoping to convince a guy to return your affection simply because you harbor affection for him is silly. He's bound to be flattered but embarrassed both for you and him. Trying to spend time with a guy you like and hoping that something will spark--much smarter and sometimes even works. But for now, the ipod calls and I'm going to put Crush on repeat while I do laundry and try to learn all the words before I go to bed tonight.
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