foundering again. Just one of those days, I guess. I need sleep. And a compass.

How to Not Cook

I've been having some powerful food cravings lately, which I think are the result of months of subsisting on ready-made food. But since said subsistence also ingrains a powerful need to make do with as little effort as possible, I've found ways to feed my cravings without actually cooking. Here are the results:

Elote

1 can Green Giant Mexicorn, or simply canned corn
fat-free cottage cheese
mayonnaise
ground cayenne pepper
salt
pepper

When I want Mexican-style street corn I drain a can of Mexicorn and add in the remaining ingredients listed above, to taste.

~*~*~*

Gooey Bites

1 Snickers bar
nutella spread

Cut a Snickers bar into four. Coat each piece with nutella spread. Die a sticky, chocolatey death.

~*~*~*

Fake Japanese

cooked rice
1 can tuna, drained
wasabi paste
lite soy sauce

Patrick actually came up with this. You heat the rice then mix in the tuna. In a separate bowl combine wasabi paste and soy sauce to taste. Add to tuna-rice mixture.

I know, I'm semi-homemade- and ghetto-fabulous.

Happy New Year!

I know, I'm late. Even for Chinese New Year.

Been mulling over firing up this old thing again. Also considering dusting off my Tagalog and creating another mirror blog, in the mother tongue this time, with help from Google Translate. They simplify my process, I turn in my edits to improve their translation database, and everyone wins.

I'm 30 now. And I Twitter now. Other than that, nothing new to report, really.

~*~*~*

Would it be tacky to wear these shoes for July 4th? I wanted them for Obama's Inauguration, but thought of it too late.


Pleaser Electra

$53.97 at Summit Fashions, from $90.99

The search for red tartan plaid heels

On Black Friday I glimpsed pointy shoes and bright red plaid, but before I could inquire as to their provenance they vanished in the throng of deal-hungry shoppers. I'm not sure, but they might have been these:



Sugar Fergie Flat
$25.30(53% off - was $54.00) at 6pm.com

And so it is that in the spirit of the Christmas season I find myself looking for red tartan plaid high-heeled shoes that speak to me.

These are my ideal plaid shoe, but I can't find them anywhere:

Sam Edelman Lady Red Plaid Pump with Bow
$34.98 before it was out of stock at SmartBargains.com

~*~*~*


And so I'm stuck with fetish footwear like:







Pleaser red plaid mary jane
$34.99 from $50.74
You Save: $15.75 (31%)
From seller Costume Alibi via Amazon.com

or, God forbid, these numbers




Lucious red plaid and lucite 6" sandals
$53 from $82.15 (35% off)
Pinupshoes.com

~*~*~*

Even though the rugged materials are an incongruous combination with that height of heel, I do rather like the look of these:




KORS MICHAEL KORS Women's Stream
$295.00 With Free Shipping
Shoes.com

I wonder then if I shouldn't throw all regard for style to the winds and get these:




Sugar Women's Rockband Grande
$90.00 With Free Shipping
Shoes.com

living as if

Wasn't that my blog title at one point?

~*~*~*

"The thing is to Live As If. Live As If you were truly free. Live As If you were surrounded by intelligent, capable people. Live As If your decisions mattered in the general scheme of things. Live As If art, literature, music, the cinema really mattered. Live As If other people were just like you. I don’t mean you should tiptoe through the tulips and delude yourself that everything is wonderful. I mean you must resist. I mean you must not let idiots dictate how you live your life. Stupidity is a given; do not hold yourself back because you think you’re surrounded by it. Do not give in to the tyranny of surveys, trends, and conventional wisdom. You are the product of millions of years of evolution. Organisms mutated, survived, adapted over eons, against huge odds, so that you can be what you are now. Honor your species."

Jessica Zafra
Jessica Rules the Universe

The new guy

I hired a new personal trainer. His name is Tim, and my confidence in him was bolstered throughout our first session by the number of his coworkers who told me how great he is, how lucky I am to be working with him, and that I'll reach my fitness goals in no time. I've already lost two pounds and one inch of my waistline, and it's only been a week.

My lifestyle changes include:

a tall glass of water first thing in the morning;
a breakfast of old-fashioned oatmeal sweetened with a half-serving of dried berries (blueberries, cranberries or raisins);
a half a peanut butter sandwich with my morning coffee, instead of the usual Texas-size muffin, frosted cinnamon roll or Hostess cupcakes;
low-sodium v8 and a reduced-fat cheese stick for my second snack;
improved posture, to work my abs and back throughout the day;
Watching portion sizes;

I'm supposed to be avoiding carbs after 6 pm, but as long as I see progress I think I'll continue eating a normal dinner.

Have I mentioned how much I *love* Netflix?

I got this in my Inbox today:

Dear Farah,

It appears that you accidently returned one of your personal DVDs or CDs in a Netflix envelope. Rest assured, we will send your disc right back to you.
If you haven't already sent back the Netflix movie you intended to return, please include it with your next return along with a note including your name and email address so we can match the movie to your account.

-The Netflix Team

I am mortified. Yes, these things do happen. But still.

It never ceases to amaze me that the Netflix service is so prompt, courteous and professional. In the four years that I've been a subscriber, I've found them to be hands-down the best DVD source anywhere: great selection, user-friendly interface, convenience.

Yes, I'm a heavy user whose usage is throttled, and some titles it seems have been on my queue forever. True too that if you don't time your returns just right you'll have to wait a while to get the new releases. But my experiences with the company when it comes to disc problems (delays, damages, missing discs, or my newest one above) have only reinforced my positive opinion of them.

500

So I write. Much as I would like to write beautiful, longhand poetry, my penmanship is so far from legible these days that all my morning pages are simply a waste of time and ink. I cannot reread them.

I should have ordered a burrito. I went crazy with the ordering at Aló yesterday, with Patrick not being there, and completely forgot that Hazel's friend Eric had mentioned wanting a burrito. I write. I hope he had fun; he seems like a cool guy.

At 22, they feel old, not having accomplished all they set out to do. Additionally, they feel it's too soon to even think about getting married or having kids; they want to have accomplished careers first.

And all Patrick and I can do is feel sad and frustrated about our own station: not having careers or kids or even just jobs we really really enjoy and find meaningful.

Today was a bad day in meltdown city.

I asked so many people for help, and no one could or wanted to. And even when I no longer expected assistance, apparently asking that people just stay out of my way is too much to ask.

"You look so tired, haha."

Surprisingly, today was a good workout day. I left the gym refreshed and invigorated, a post-workout feeling I haven't felt in a while. It was my first day back in a week and a half. Since then I've helped out at another store; looked up a friend's concert vid on Youtube; made a Chicagoan(?)-approved Italian beef sandwich, for the first time ever; seen "The Dark Knight"; been offered a travel/service job at $19-an-hour; and been hit on by a strange customer who, upon learning I'm married, replied "Well then, I won't waste any more of your time." and spent the next half-hour helping the brunette Nabisco vendor stock cookies.

Krispy Kreme is making grass flip-flops. I don't know why. I think dSquared's lightning-bolt stilettos are wicked sexy. I'm about the infuse some red into my hair, with the help of L'Oreal Color Pulse in, um, Red Pulse.



Shoe links snagged from Shoewawa.

sunday morning.

Patrick and I are taking a Japanese class. Bukambibig ko 'to lately, probably because we're having so much fun. Instead of learning it all in romaji, we are studying vocabulary as well as the Japanese writing system. It feels odd, having to learn to speak and read and write all over again.

After each class I find myself craving a cheeseburger and fries. Something about the way Japanese rolls off the tongue, I guess. I'm not alone anyway: McDonald's is huge in Japan.

Some tree with dusky pink flowers is in bloom right now, and the heady sticky-sweet fragrance hangs in the air as Cocoa and I walk about the apartment complex. A turkey-size grey tabby stalked us.

We might do brunch today at either the Original Pancake House or The Purple Cow, and afterwards I'd like to check out GameWyze.

Post-independence day summation

The other party paid the $1100 in repairs. I made picadillo this week, for the first time in at least a year. We didn't do anything for July 4th besides bathe Cocoa. I want shoes. And a Blackberry Pearl and red hair and maybe green eyes, but only if they're a watery emerald green. But back to the shoes:

~*~*~*
Fendi satin bow-front pumps
$655 at Neiman Marcus



~*~*~*
Jimmy Choo Metallic T-Strap Heel
$595 at Bergdorf's





Wicked. Fierce.

~*~*~*

Ralph Lauren Collection Satin Slides
$198.03 from $425 at Saks

THE MERCEDES WAS HIT AGAIN !)(@##$%)(*$

WTF.

Some Indian lady let go of her shopping cart as Patrick was parking in the lot of my Wal-Mart. According to her, it's not her fault, it's ours for being parked there, and the cart's for rolling two slots down.

The Mercedes was hit. Yet again.

Somebody hit the front passenger side corner while the car was parked outside Patrick's office.

What are the odds of that happening? Three accidents, two of which while the car was parked. Alanis' "Ironic" comes to mind, however questionable the title. There's just no song that I know of that goes "Get nice things/ People shit all over them/ That just sucks".

~*~*~*

My younger sister-in-law seems to have caught whatever it was that I had. We celebrated Dean's birthday at our usual Chinese buffet this past Friday, and said SIL came up to her hubby and said "Hi, handsome", to which he replied coldly "I'm married." She was so hoarse he didn't recognize her voice, and thought that another guy was hitting on him.

I've been sick since Thursday night.

I called in on Friday morning with a bad case of sore throat, and again today. I have to go back to work tomorrow. I don't know if I'm up to it. I've pretty much done nothing but sleep, blow my nose, and take various sore throat remedies (lozenges, tea, lemonade) these past four days. I got up at 6:30, took a shower and got the mail, and I'm already anxious to climb back into bed.

Sometimes I find myself crying over stupid things, and (half-hoping) wonder if I might be pregnant. I never am. Maybe i'm just imbalanced. It's one of those days again. Nothng particularly earthshaking today, and yet here I am again in the pit where hope never shines, where things will never get better and nothing is ever gonna change and if I weren't so afraid of pain or making a mistake, if all I had to do was agree and get it over with, then I would simply say "Yes".

It's not all that bad, I know. But at times like these i KNOW: it's never gonna get much better.

I wonder why living is so difficult for me. Maybe I'm not meant to. Maybe because as a writer, like it or not, whether or not I do any actual writing, I end up living it all twice or thrice or multiples thereof. Maybe I need religion. Or someone who actually needs me, instead of the adults in my life for whom I might be useful or helpful or amusing but never a life-maker or -saver. Maybe a job that makes a difference. I don't know.

I liked Steve Martin's description of Mirabelle in his novella "Shopgirl", though I cannot remember his exact words...something about selling things no one buys anymore. It reminds me that I'd like a fairytale wedding with opera-length gloves and a Cinderella ballroom gown. And then I begin to think about how Patrick wants a sunset wedding, barefoot at the beach, and I begin to wonder how well we really know each other, if we're suited at all.

I got slapped with "Farah, you need to do some crunches or situps or something." at work today. Not as part of casual banter or even bored conversation. Just a slap-and-run, no hi-hello-how-are-you.

The Body Electric

I was born of the energies that swim this universe, deciding one day that a whirl as a glob of cells, fluids and hormones might provide insight. I arrived at this place a screaming, squirming organism, and promptly forgot my mission.

I am relearning and reconciling myself with what I was. I am a watcher, and observer, I know. Yet I forget I no longer possess infinity -- not right now, anyway. Time has essence, in this place. It is no easy balancing act, living and observing, with this biological clock ticking away at this hot mess of glands and organs, neurochemicals and enzymes, social interactions and emotional responses.

I pass this way but once. I must. not. forget. I am not merely serving time here; reunion will be at the end of a fruitful, meaningful life. I am meant to live. I must not forget.

Metallica fan?

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I liked the shower scene best.

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This movie touched me so much...when Gavin finally broke through Patricia's denial...when Sheila asked that the sheriff pray with her after their first kiss...when Terry admits that his secretary isn't pregnant with twins...when Sheila describes her emotional journey...