What am I doing, throwing around these terms? I don't even KNOW what Doctrine of Worthier Title means. But it sounds impressive, yeah?
Second week of bar study. The I House is bad for my health. Case in point: last week, I attended a VIDEO lecture at the I House on Thursday evening (from 6-10pm!) and it was cold, wet, and old. I started getting a freakish fever, sore throat, body aches and headache. I go home and was down for the count all weekend. Sick. Could not see. Terrible. This justified staying home on Friday and listening to the lecture at my leisure on my computer at a much more reasonable hour. Today, I got back to the I House for the Contracts lecture. 15 minutes into the lecture, I start coughing again. It is a deep, soul-wrenching, tuberculosis sounding cough. A hack. I sound like an old lady that has been working in the salt mines, lit by the flame of dirty candles and inhaling the ever-present dust of sodium. This proves to me that the I House is bad for my health. Additionally, I really object to the late late hour of the lectures. 10 pm is way past my bedtime. Especially since I wake up so early (6-7 am automatically).
The Contracts lecturer is different from the Property lecturer. Very different. The handouts are radically different too. The margins are bigger and there is plenty of space to fill in the blanks. (BTW, that's the secret of BarBri: Lecture handouts with fill-in-the-blanks. You are paying big bucks for the interactive paced program and for a 900 page book of handouts.) Contracts handout: not so much room to write. And yet he speaks so much. Such gems of wisdom. Imagine white-haired Epstein in the SHOWER with SHARON STONE, offering to sell her a 1973 Cadillac.
As for the other material, there is about 400 hours worth of lecture material that I have to listen to in 8 weeks. The math doesn't add up, does it? Some of the lectures are for practice exams (yes, I am still scoring around 50% for the mixed topic practice exam.) which are so excruciatingly peppy. It's not enough that they give out the answers with detailed explanations. They carefully paired it with 45 - 95 minute long lectures verbally explaining why I am an IDIOT for going to law school. I don't even know if that was meant to be sarcastic.
This morning our Dean of Bar Examination Studies sent us an email that roughly said "it's ok to feel really stupid right now, because that is normal....sometimes by the end, you still might not get it and thus, will fail the bar." I guess several people have been more vocal about the frustration, dread, overwhelming send of inadequacy after the first week of Real Property. When I took the subject in law school, I did fine! But now? Nope. Nope. NOPE NOPE NOPE. It's like I did nothing at all.
On a brighter note: I had a terrific acupuncture treatment this afternoon. My eyes have been tightening up due to focusing on the small words densely printed on the pages. When I look up from my books, it's as if my face has been inverted and my eyes bulge inwards. I have tension in the area around my eyes, up the forehead, around the top of the head, circling back along my temples, returning to my eyes. Plus I've been spitting fire from my heart qi. The anxiety has not made me fatigued and slow. Instead, it resembles an egg-spoon race on concrete where I can focus and keep my balance, but when I start to worry, the egg falls out of my spoon and shatters into a million pieces. An egg filled with glass beads. There is a lot of frenetic energy in my brain. Thus we have been working on "centering" and calming my fire qi. Harness the power of fire qi.
Done for the night. It's around 9pm. Can't think any more. Have to shower, soak my feet, get ready for bed and listen to some running water sounds. Bright and early start tomorrow, now that I've declared liberation from the evil forces of I House! Never again shall I darken the hearth of that putrid institution of oppression!
Christina OUT!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Real Property Is Really Poopy
So eloquent. I know. Last week was the first week of bar study. The first 3 days were "Previews" that played on DVDs (breaks and all) in the lecture hall of Boalt. The tables were old-fashioned narrow like you would see in lecture halls in European Academic Institutions. And the chairs were enough uncomfortable so you would stay paying attention. And it was frigid in there. The frost that built up on the tip of my nose could have fallen off an airplane waste disposal tank and killed a medium sized farm animal.
The "Previews" were really more like secular godsmacks. They take some subjects that are relatively ordinary sounding, subjects that I have taken in law school, and then add some god-awful subjects to it like Mortgages. Then, they give you some practice questions and when you score lower than 49% across the board, they have successfully made you feel really dumb, incapable of being taught, and ugly too.
The first topic covered is Real Property. I am in real property hell. There is so much to know. At one point during 1L year I was pretty good with this. I could tell the difference between a vest remainder subject to open and a executory interest and fee simple determinable. The terms used to roll off my tongue. Not anymore. The difference between the species is sometimes as small and subtle as WHERE THE COMMA is. Or whether the condition is written before the devisee or after the devisee's name. How's that for preciseness? I'll precise you in half.
And then there are the notice recording systems. The difference in language between a notice system and a race notice system is whether the word "first" appears somewhere. Additionally, the statutes are typically always written in prohibitory language. "You are not allowed to do this, unless this happens." This leaves the questions: so when ARE you allowed to do this? If only Lou were correct and all property belongs to the emperor. All hail the Emperor.
After doing a few practice multiple choice questions, I've managed to raise my percentage correct to slightly above 60%, only to have it drop at the end of the day. I was sick this weekend though. Hopefully that explains the absolute lack of desire to concentrate, the lack of motivation, the headache that follows intense periods of reading and the drippy nose/sneezing/coughing/difficulty breathing.
It's only been the first week of bar study and I'm already behind in the assignments. So many things to do. So much to memorize. My hand is starting to cramp up from writing flash cards and from filling out that Lecture Handout Workbook. I feel like every time I manage to remember something, a different piece of information falls out of my head. I can't hold them all at once. On the way back from SF, I nearly had a panic attack on the freeway. The ridiculousness of the situation is that I was really worried that I hadn't learned 8 months worth of Real Property in 3 days. I was devastated that I didn't know it by day 3. Disappointed in myself, really.
Today is a holiday (really?) and I have to catchup on the assignments. My work is cut out for me. I have pages and problems to do. 100 opportunities to acknowledge the destruction of time on brain tissue and cognitive regeneration. Where's my memory castle when I need it? Here castle, castle, castle.
Running away to Belize is looking more and more enticing every day. With every low score on the practice exams, I am encouraged to go to a foreign country.
The "Previews" were really more like secular godsmacks. They take some subjects that are relatively ordinary sounding, subjects that I have taken in law school, and then add some god-awful subjects to it like Mortgages. Then, they give you some practice questions and when you score lower than 49% across the board, they have successfully made you feel really dumb, incapable of being taught, and ugly too.
The first topic covered is Real Property. I am in real property hell. There is so much to know. At one point during 1L year I was pretty good with this. I could tell the difference between a vest remainder subject to open and a executory interest and fee simple determinable. The terms used to roll off my tongue. Not anymore. The difference between the species is sometimes as small and subtle as WHERE THE COMMA is. Or whether the condition is written before the devisee or after the devisee's name. How's that for preciseness? I'll precise you in half.
And then there are the notice recording systems. The difference in language between a notice system and a race notice system is whether the word "first" appears somewhere. Additionally, the statutes are typically always written in prohibitory language. "You are not allowed to do this, unless this happens." This leaves the questions: so when ARE you allowed to do this? If only Lou were correct and all property belongs to the emperor. All hail the Emperor.
After doing a few practice multiple choice questions, I've managed to raise my percentage correct to slightly above 60%, only to have it drop at the end of the day. I was sick this weekend though. Hopefully that explains the absolute lack of desire to concentrate, the lack of motivation, the headache that follows intense periods of reading and the drippy nose/sneezing/coughing/difficulty breathing.
It's only been the first week of bar study and I'm already behind in the assignments. So many things to do. So much to memorize. My hand is starting to cramp up from writing flash cards and from filling out that Lecture Handout Workbook. I feel like every time I manage to remember something, a different piece of information falls out of my head. I can't hold them all at once. On the way back from SF, I nearly had a panic attack on the freeway. The ridiculousness of the situation is that I was really worried that I hadn't learned 8 months worth of Real Property in 3 days. I was devastated that I didn't know it by day 3. Disappointed in myself, really.
Today is a holiday (really?) and I have to catchup on the assignments. My work is cut out for me. I have pages and problems to do. 100 opportunities to acknowledge the destruction of time on brain tissue and cognitive regeneration. Where's my memory castle when I need it? Here castle, castle, castle.
Running away to Belize is looking more and more enticing every day. With every low score on the practice exams, I am encouraged to go to a foreign country.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
S'mores and Less Typing, Please
Barbri is not what I expected. For one thing, it's a dvd. And there's no administrator there. For the second thing, the live class is full, meaning we do not have the option to switch into that if we wanted to. Additionally, this means that we are paying the same premium price that the live lecture people pay, but without the grace of Erwin Chimerinsky lecturing at us for 9 hours continuously. Let's take a look at that in terms of fairness:
No live lecture options
no admin on site - ppl's cell phones go off with regularity especially this older African American gentleman who ANSWERS the call every time. Does he know there's a vibrate function? Does he know that answering the phone is not ok?
DVD played to us - which is available online.
= same high price as the live lecture option. I think they should price it pro-rata. The people who don't get the live lecture should have their tuition reduced by $2,000. Because that's about the asking price for Erwin Chimerinsky.
It might be too late or too early to start making a fuss about this. But it's not what I expected. Not at all. I'm disappointed by the switch-er-oo. There really was no option to have the live lecture at all. And without the live lecture option, why are we still paying the same amount of tuition? Maintaining the "interacting paced program" is not expensive. Playing the DVD is not expensive. The most expensive part of Barbri, the biggest money-maker and seller, is the LIVE fracking PERSON who lectures (but does not take questions). It's the law equivalent with a celebrity. Maybe if the person who wrote the textbook says the black letter law, maybe I'll understand it better. Since I have no option to brush against this celebrity or breathe the same air as him, I want a substantial reduction in my tuition.
S'mores:
I found out that marshmallows have geletin in them. But marshmallow cream does not. I made these lovely graham cracker cookie bars with chocolate and marshmallow cream sandwiched between. I followed the recipe exactly (except maybe I reduced the amount of marshmallow cream since I'm not too fond of marshmallows). And it's a little too sweet for now. The sweetness is cut by the bitterness of the chocolate (Hershey's! America's favorite!). I have a feeling that it could be BETTER. So much better. My next batch is going to feature Belgium chocolate, more graham flavor and some amount of marshmallow cream. How do I get it to spread better? Right now, I'm having a devil of a time trying to get the batter into the corners of the pan. It keeps lifting back up with the spatula. STAY. please.
I was going to do a caramel and chocolate bar next, but I might want to stick with this marshmallow cream one first. Change the chocolate, maybe make the cookie part a little thinner? Just a little? The texture is spot-on. Dense, chewy, but not heavy.
Barbri again:
Tonight is our first lecture night. From 6-10 I will be the captive audience of a very sympathetic and caring DVD. Beneficially, the DVD knows to say phrases about 4 times so we can type it down. Unfortunately, the lecture halls at Boalt have screwed up my wrists by having strangely proportioned writing-surface-to-chair distances. I've been suffering from very very numb forearms, hands and fingers. It is painful. I've also been typing more than previously. the first two days, I took 14 pages of notes! And that's with 25% drifting off into daydream, writing thank-you cards, and many bathroom breaks. This means that I might have to type sparsely all the other times.
Tonight's lecture will be at the International House. I've completed 7% of my bar prep. But I'm confused. Am I suppose to start memorizing? Because today's subject, Real Property, will not be covered again. The homework assignment says "Read Real Property." It never says "Memorize Real Property." The thought of filling out 500 flash cards right now is so uplifting. So inspiring. I wonder how Caroline does it? How does she learn her stuff? Not everyone does flashcards.
Additionally, I've been able to sample a wide array of foodstuffs on Telegraph. More desperately than before. Some is more economical than others. Previously it was lunch because our preview lectures were during the day. Now, it will be dinner-ish because the lectures are at night. Oh happy day. Oh joyous joy.
Right. Gotta go stuff some Real Property into my head now.
No live lecture options
no admin on site - ppl's cell phones go off with regularity especially this older African American gentleman who ANSWERS the call every time. Does he know there's a vibrate function? Does he know that answering the phone is not ok?
DVD played to us - which is available online.
= same high price as the live lecture option. I think they should price it pro-rata. The people who don't get the live lecture should have their tuition reduced by $2,000. Because that's about the asking price for Erwin Chimerinsky.
It might be too late or too early to start making a fuss about this. But it's not what I expected. Not at all. I'm disappointed by the switch-er-oo. There really was no option to have the live lecture at all. And without the live lecture option, why are we still paying the same amount of tuition? Maintaining the "interacting paced program" is not expensive. Playing the DVD is not expensive. The most expensive part of Barbri, the biggest money-maker and seller, is the LIVE fracking PERSON who lectures (but does not take questions). It's the law equivalent with a celebrity. Maybe if the person who wrote the textbook says the black letter law, maybe I'll understand it better. Since I have no option to brush against this celebrity or breathe the same air as him, I want a substantial reduction in my tuition.
S'mores:
I found out that marshmallows have geletin in them. But marshmallow cream does not. I made these lovely graham cracker cookie bars with chocolate and marshmallow cream sandwiched between. I followed the recipe exactly (except maybe I reduced the amount of marshmallow cream since I'm not too fond of marshmallows). And it's a little too sweet for now. The sweetness is cut by the bitterness of the chocolate (Hershey's! America's favorite!). I have a feeling that it could be BETTER. So much better. My next batch is going to feature Belgium chocolate, more graham flavor and some amount of marshmallow cream. How do I get it to spread better? Right now, I'm having a devil of a time trying to get the batter into the corners of the pan. It keeps lifting back up with the spatula. STAY. please.
I was going to do a caramel and chocolate bar next, but I might want to stick with this marshmallow cream one first. Change the chocolate, maybe make the cookie part a little thinner? Just a little? The texture is spot-on. Dense, chewy, but not heavy.
Barbri again:
Tonight is our first lecture night. From 6-10 I will be the captive audience of a very sympathetic and caring DVD. Beneficially, the DVD knows to say phrases about 4 times so we can type it down. Unfortunately, the lecture halls at Boalt have screwed up my wrists by having strangely proportioned writing-surface-to-chair distances. I've been suffering from very very numb forearms, hands and fingers. It is painful. I've also been typing more than previously. the first two days, I took 14 pages of notes! And that's with 25% drifting off into daydream, writing thank-you cards, and many bathroom breaks. This means that I might have to type sparsely all the other times.
Tonight's lecture will be at the International House. I've completed 7% of my bar prep. But I'm confused. Am I suppose to start memorizing? Because today's subject, Real Property, will not be covered again. The homework assignment says "Read Real Property." It never says "Memorize Real Property." The thought of filling out 500 flash cards right now is so uplifting. So inspiring. I wonder how Caroline does it? How does she learn her stuff? Not everyone does flashcards.
Additionally, I've been able to sample a wide array of foodstuffs on Telegraph. More desperately than before. Some is more economical than others. Previously it was lunch because our preview lectures were during the day. Now, it will be dinner-ish because the lectures are at night. Oh happy day. Oh joyous joy.
Right. Gotta go stuff some Real Property into my head now.
Monday, May 23, 2011
10 days left of kickstarter
I have 10 days and $180 left to make my goal on Kickstarter. I can feel the urge to start baking with every soul-sucking class that passes. Today, I wanted something sweet and tempting. I'm craving s'mores bars and maybe chocolate caramel graham bars. Something a little naughty and chewy and tender. No more shortbread. No more tender cookies. I want something with chocolate and caramel and more stuff.
How do you feel about marshmallow cream? I've never really enjoyed it. But maybe just a little bit would be delicious.
How do you feel about marshmallow cream? I've never really enjoyed it. But maybe just a little bit would be delicious.
Bar Prep Day 1
7:30 am: wake and hit the snooze .
7:40 am: wake and stumble out of bed.
9:00 am: Grr. Not happy to be here. So sleepy. But still a bit of excited? Must be crazy.
9:54 am: Sleepy. All excitement has been sucked out by the droning of the DVD. Why bother doing this live rather than a DVD? No interaction (not allowed to ask questions) regardless. Sleepy.
10:07 am: that was only the intro!
11:30 am: took torts multiple choice test: got only as far as 20/25 and many of them wrong. Must work on taking the questions faster.
11:34 am: torts lecturer is very very shrill. Perky female voice. My eyes are crossing, my eardrums are splitting.
noon: lunch! freedom!
1:30 pm: crim pro/law test: getting them all wrong! Constantly. Consistently. Sound of frustration! Tummy hurts even though I brought my own lunch. Must be a mild case of food poisoning again. Best diet ever.
7:40 am: wake and stumble out of bed.
9:00 am: Grr. Not happy to be here. So sleepy. But still a bit of excited? Must be crazy.
9:54 am: Sleepy. All excitement has been sucked out by the droning of the DVD. Why bother doing this live rather than a DVD? No interaction (not allowed to ask questions) regardless. Sleepy.
10:07 am: that was only the intro!
11:30 am: took torts multiple choice test: got only as far as 20/25 and many of them wrong. Must work on taking the questions faster.
11:34 am: torts lecturer is very very shrill. Perky female voice. My eyes are crossing, my eardrums are splitting.
noon: lunch! freedom!
1:30 pm: crim pro/law test: getting them all wrong! Constantly. Consistently. Sound of frustration! Tummy hurts even though I brought my own lunch. Must be a mild case of food poisoning again. Best diet ever.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Must Travel with Measuring Tape
Parking in SF can be such a carnival game. Some spots look huge, others are hiding in plain sight. I drive a small, silver Prius with the rear camera, but sometimes, even this compact eco-car parks like an extra long extended cab pick up truck with double girth.
Around 7:45 pm there is not much traffic going across the Bay Bridge from the East Bay in the City. That's the time I like to drive in to SF. I've sworn off the public transit unless dire circumstances call for it (such as destinations downtown). But I'm beginning to notice that 8 pm is about the time when there's NO PARKING around the Panhandle. I think if it gets just a tad later or a touch earlier, there will be parking. Right now, I'm praying that the spot I parked is going to be ok until one of the spots across the street opens up.
Which leads me to my thesis of the day: traveling with a measuring tape. I think it's really necessary to have this device when attempting to park in SF. It takes all the guesswork out of eyeballing. Well, where's the fun, you ask. The fun is getting all the locals to look at you funny as you pull out this measuring tape and attempt to figure out whether your car will fit. If it's the Mission, you might as well attempt it with the car because the lag time between measuring and fetching the car could result in a missing car. But around here, it's sort of ok. Ok, because I already parked the car in a mini spot while I scout for better parking spots. In that sense, I'm similar to a bird building a nest. I'll reserve a space with my clutter while I look for a safe, better space to lay my eggs.
Going back a few days, yesterday was my graduation! I am grad-u-ma-cated. My mother made the analogy that I have acquired knowledge the way a warrior sharpens his broadsword made of the finest steel that man can forge. Through the years, it gets hammered stronger and sharper and I grind and polish the edge. And now, without a job, I am like that warrior with a hyper-sharp weapon and NO ENEMY to slay. The only enemy is my self doubt. The fear that grips my heart prevents me from taking the next leap. But only for so long. I really need to find employment and start earning income. This knowledge, this school is useless unless I can whet the sword's blade on some challenge. The bar does not count.
Today I took a good look at the Barbri schedule. Yes, I finally downloaded the calendar and opened the file. It's not procrastination. It was prioritizing things that I need to know. And before finals were over, I didn't need to know. But now that reality is taking a brisk cold shower in the icy lakes of Norway, I cringe just a bit when I realize I'll be in class for around 5 hours a day minimum, 5 days a week, for the next 10 weeks. The only days off are holidays. I had not yet realized that when I looked at the schedule and bestowed misplaced benevolence on Barbri. Nope. My life will be consecutive head dunks into icy, briny water. A sea of coals to traverse on foot and me without any shoes.
The books for Barbri have rather ironic titles/descriptions. Some are known as the "long" outline and others are the "condensed" outline. But the books are approximately the same thickness. I shake my head in a weary manner as I unpack the contents of that 40 lbs gift from Barbri, delivered by the brown angel UPS. I need to shove the substantive information into my brain. On Monday, we take a diagnostic test. It's suppose to assess what we know, and at the end of the course, we can pat ourselves on the back and say, "how far we have come. The ultra-type-A personality is tempting me to start doing a little studying. Just a read-through. No memorizing yet, just casual, light reading. I will just lightly read Civil Procedure.
As far as baking goes, I've made some deliciously light shortbread cookies. Instead of putting jam on top while the dough is unbaked, I smear some on afterward. I bought a jar of Trader Joe's Apricot Preserves which I thought would be bully but after sampling a teaspoonful, it tastes a bit bland. I'm going to have to go back to using the homemade stuff. This also means that when apricot season comes around, I will have to can my own jam. How Little House on the Prairie of me. So fan of Team Shortbread, this one's for you. Still need a name. It's bigger than a thumbprint. Smaller than a deck of cards. I will call it "Metes and Bounds" because when I was cutting up the cookies, I drew property lines with a pizza cutter/roller, and then I pricked the rising shortbread with a fork to make perforations. It looks like the dotted lines of real property. Snark.
Now, I'm going to hunt a better parking space for my little car. Here, parking, parking, parking...
Around 7:45 pm there is not much traffic going across the Bay Bridge from the East Bay in the City. That's the time I like to drive in to SF. I've sworn off the public transit unless dire circumstances call for it (such as destinations downtown). But I'm beginning to notice that 8 pm is about the time when there's NO PARKING around the Panhandle. I think if it gets just a tad later or a touch earlier, there will be parking. Right now, I'm praying that the spot I parked is going to be ok until one of the spots across the street opens up.
Which leads me to my thesis of the day: traveling with a measuring tape. I think it's really necessary to have this device when attempting to park in SF. It takes all the guesswork out of eyeballing. Well, where's the fun, you ask. The fun is getting all the locals to look at you funny as you pull out this measuring tape and attempt to figure out whether your car will fit. If it's the Mission, you might as well attempt it with the car because the lag time between measuring and fetching the car could result in a missing car. But around here, it's sort of ok. Ok, because I already parked the car in a mini spot while I scout for better parking spots. In that sense, I'm similar to a bird building a nest. I'll reserve a space with my clutter while I look for a safe, better space to lay my eggs.
Going back a few days, yesterday was my graduation! I am grad-u-ma-cated. My mother made the analogy that I have acquired knowledge the way a warrior sharpens his broadsword made of the finest steel that man can forge. Through the years, it gets hammered stronger and sharper and I grind and polish the edge. And now, without a job, I am like that warrior with a hyper-sharp weapon and NO ENEMY to slay. The only enemy is my self doubt. The fear that grips my heart prevents me from taking the next leap. But only for so long. I really need to find employment and start earning income. This knowledge, this school is useless unless I can whet the sword's blade on some challenge. The bar does not count.
Today I took a good look at the Barbri schedule. Yes, I finally downloaded the calendar and opened the file. It's not procrastination. It was prioritizing things that I need to know. And before finals were over, I didn't need to know. But now that reality is taking a brisk cold shower in the icy lakes of Norway, I cringe just a bit when I realize I'll be in class for around 5 hours a day minimum, 5 days a week, for the next 10 weeks. The only days off are holidays. I had not yet realized that when I looked at the schedule and bestowed misplaced benevolence on Barbri. Nope. My life will be consecutive head dunks into icy, briny water. A sea of coals to traverse on foot and me without any shoes.
The books for Barbri have rather ironic titles/descriptions. Some are known as the "long" outline and others are the "condensed" outline. But the books are approximately the same thickness. I shake my head in a weary manner as I unpack the contents of that 40 lbs gift from Barbri, delivered by the brown angel UPS. I need to shove the substantive information into my brain. On Monday, we take a diagnostic test. It's suppose to assess what we know, and at the end of the course, we can pat ourselves on the back and say, "how far we have come. The ultra-type-A personality is tempting me to start doing a little studying. Just a read-through. No memorizing yet, just casual, light reading. I will just lightly read Civil Procedure.
As far as baking goes, I've made some deliciously light shortbread cookies. Instead of putting jam on top while the dough is unbaked, I smear some on afterward. I bought a jar of Trader Joe's Apricot Preserves which I thought would be bully but after sampling a teaspoonful, it tastes a bit bland. I'm going to have to go back to using the homemade stuff. This also means that when apricot season comes around, I will have to can my own jam. How Little House on the Prairie of me. So fan of Team Shortbread, this one's for you. Still need a name. It's bigger than a thumbprint. Smaller than a deck of cards. I will call it "Metes and Bounds" because when I was cutting up the cookies, I drew property lines with a pizza cutter/roller, and then I pricked the rising shortbread with a fork to make perforations. It looks like the dotted lines of real property. Snark.
Now, I'm going to hunt a better parking space for my little car. Here, parking, parking, parking...
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Wind out of my sails
After a rather uneasy day, I lost the nerve to bake with my 1lb block of butter. I looked at two recipes, one for shortbread that must be rolled out and one for Chocolate Clouds that needed to be refrigerated for 4 hours. All that work. I'm so tired. And my stomach is not feeling well. I don't have the energy to do it. Maybe it has something to do with the acupuncture this morning. I hope I feel better tomorrow.
Update: it's now 11:36pm on Saturday, May 14, 2011. I've got insomnia again. And possibly a mild case of food poisoning. It was almost too much watching my friend eat a 15 inch cheese steak sandwich in front of me this afternoon. Not because my mouth was watering and tummy gurgling. Uncharacteristically of me, my stomach was on full strike. It wouldn't even let me salivate to the smell of meat and cheese. Instead, it turned my stomach a bit. And after I forced a jalapeno popper into my mouth (ok, 2), my stomach went to work on notifying me that my deposit has been inferior and will be rejected.
Maybe this is what it feels like to grow older. My body is slowly falling apart, not listening to my every whimsical gastronomy-fueled desire, resistant to the idea of eating at hole-in-the-walls due to burning a hole-in-my-stomach. I can't put away a burger like I used to. Granted, it was a huge 1/3 lb buffalo burger. I can't stomach fried foods in the morning (and what a lovely revelation that was too). I can't eat a whole plate of roast lamb in homemade gravy without feeling rather ill. I'm useless as a foodie. I've been robbed of my most interesting asset! The one that can't gain weight: my appetite.
HLP graduation on Monday night which will be swell. What do I wear to this? I'm tempted to wear sweatpants with a hole and stains, because the thought of putting on a suit sort of makes me faint. Every time I put on a suit, I feel like a soldier putting on their gear for battle. The jacket is my armor, the skirt is my weapon, the leggings and heels are my ammunition. I pin my hair back the way soldiers wear hats. Necklace, makeup, dressed for battle. Perhaps this has something to do with doing real battle while working for the DA. Most educational experience and I will always be grateful to my mentor.
Real graduation on Tuesday at Davis Symphony Hall at 11am. I'll be wearing a velvet monkey suit with interesting doctorate hood with funky lining. On Friday, I had a little photo shoot with my mother and I got some dastardly photos resembling Mary Magdalene or was it the Virgin Mary? I didn't make the hood, I only put it on my head in the manner that it was not suppose to be worn. And then posed while holding a rose, with my hands in prayer. Complete coincidence.
My cat has found her fleece bed liner from years ago and she has taken to it. She lies snoring away on my bed, twitching slightly and making munching noises with her mouth. I wonder what she dreams of. Does she dream in color? And why is it so cold today?
Update: it's now 11:36pm on Saturday, May 14, 2011. I've got insomnia again. And possibly a mild case of food poisoning. It was almost too much watching my friend eat a 15 inch cheese steak sandwich in front of me this afternoon. Not because my mouth was watering and tummy gurgling. Uncharacteristically of me, my stomach was on full strike. It wouldn't even let me salivate to the smell of meat and cheese. Instead, it turned my stomach a bit. And after I forced a jalapeno popper into my mouth (ok, 2), my stomach went to work on notifying me that my deposit has been inferior and will be rejected.
Maybe this is what it feels like to grow older. My body is slowly falling apart, not listening to my every whimsical gastronomy-fueled desire, resistant to the idea of eating at hole-in-the-walls due to burning a hole-in-my-stomach. I can't put away a burger like I used to. Granted, it was a huge 1/3 lb buffalo burger. I can't stomach fried foods in the morning (and what a lovely revelation that was too). I can't eat a whole plate of roast lamb in homemade gravy without feeling rather ill. I'm useless as a foodie. I've been robbed of my most interesting asset! The one that can't gain weight: my appetite.
HLP graduation on Monday night which will be swell. What do I wear to this? I'm tempted to wear sweatpants with a hole and stains, because the thought of putting on a suit sort of makes me faint. Every time I put on a suit, I feel like a soldier putting on their gear for battle. The jacket is my armor, the skirt is my weapon, the leggings and heels are my ammunition. I pin my hair back the way soldiers wear hats. Necklace, makeup, dressed for battle. Perhaps this has something to do with doing real battle while working for the DA. Most educational experience and I will always be grateful to my mentor.
Real graduation on Tuesday at Davis Symphony Hall at 11am. I'll be wearing a velvet monkey suit with interesting doctorate hood with funky lining. On Friday, I had a little photo shoot with my mother and I got some dastardly photos resembling Mary Magdalene or was it the Virgin Mary? I didn't make the hood, I only put it on my head in the manner that it was not suppose to be worn. And then posed while holding a rose, with my hands in prayer. Complete coincidence.
My cat has found her fleece bed liner from years ago and she has taken to it. She lies snoring away on my bed, twitching slightly and making munching noises with her mouth. I wonder what she dreams of. Does she dream in color? And why is it so cold today?
Team Chocolate, Team Shortbread
I know that there are at least two different markets out there. There is Team Chocolate of which my friend Marina is a steadfast believer. Then there is Team Shortbread and other non-chocolates of which Lou is a steadfast believer. In fact, yesterday, after a huge 1/3 lb burger, Lou managed to eat 2 Jammie Circles (my new name for them) with a cup of coffee. The coffee was to make sure his heart kept beating after ingesting all that artery clogging goodness. Then he parked himself on the couch for 4 hours, digesting, his heart rate slowing down, his pulse crawled to a meander, and his brain functions low enough to appreciate the humor of Red Dwarf. Oh Lou. The shortbread <3 you too.
Back to Team Chocolate. I want some feedback. I want to know whether it's the chewiness combined with the chocolate that makes it better than shortbread (in Team Chocolate's mind). Is it the fact that it has a cake-like texture but in a denser cookie-form? As much as I like cakes, there is an upper limit to the airy, lighter texture. After too much, it just gets dry. I like something with many small holes, not too much rise, yet still moist and crumbly. I want to make that sort of chocolate cookie. Brownies are too dense and moist and simple. And too sweet. But the crust of the brownie is correct. Something that resists the teeth just a little. However the interior of my next cookie will have a cake-like interior. If it goes well, I will call it Chocolate Clouds. If it doesn't go well, I will name it Piece of Horse!
My parents are getting a new oven. A gorgeous Maytag single oven, 5-burner beauty (with Sabbath mode) with an oven capacity of 5.6 cubic feet. Two power burners at 17,000 btu and 12,500 btu. Cooking will be so much fun again. So far, my little atomic range is working well, but my space is so small that if anything burns or smell funny, it lingers forever. I look forward to making salted caramels again.
My next baking project (with my 1 lb block of grade AA butter) is to make real fake jammie dodgers. Except I cannot call them jammie dodgers unless I want to be sued past next Sunday. Thus the search has started for a new name. This cookie will consist of two shortbread biscuits with apricot jam in between. The top cookie will have cutouts of various spring shapes. On a rectangular biscuit. I wish I could say that the rectangular biscuit was a creative choice but the truth is I do not have large cookie cutters.
Give me a name!
Back to Team Chocolate. I want some feedback. I want to know whether it's the chewiness combined with the chocolate that makes it better than shortbread (in Team Chocolate's mind). Is it the fact that it has a cake-like texture but in a denser cookie-form? As much as I like cakes, there is an upper limit to the airy, lighter texture. After too much, it just gets dry. I like something with many small holes, not too much rise, yet still moist and crumbly. I want to make that sort of chocolate cookie. Brownies are too dense and moist and simple. And too sweet. But the crust of the brownie is correct. Something that resists the teeth just a little. However the interior of my next cookie will have a cake-like interior. If it goes well, I will call it Chocolate Clouds. If it doesn't go well, I will name it Piece of Horse!
My parents are getting a new oven. A gorgeous Maytag single oven, 5-burner beauty (with Sabbath mode) with an oven capacity of 5.6 cubic feet. Two power burners at 17,000 btu and 12,500 btu. Cooking will be so much fun again. So far, my little atomic range is working well, but my space is so small that if anything burns or smell funny, it lingers forever. I look forward to making salted caramels again.
My next baking project (with my 1 lb block of grade AA butter) is to make real fake jammie dodgers. Except I cannot call them jammie dodgers unless I want to be sued past next Sunday. Thus the search has started for a new name. This cookie will consist of two shortbread biscuits with apricot jam in between. The top cookie will have cutouts of various spring shapes. On a rectangular biscuit. I wish I could say that the rectangular biscuit was a creative choice but the truth is I do not have large cookie cutters.
Give me a name!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Apricot Jam Tarts - sitting in shortbread
I love shortbread. I realize now that all my prior interactions with shortbread have been inferior. It would be a similar realization for someone whose family is lactose intolerant and raised on cheez whiz, to suddenly have a slice of Roquefort cheese with a tart green apple and a glass of bubbly. Life changing. Granted, there's always a place for cheez whiz so I am not putting down the great staple of cheese steak sandwiches. I am merely voicing appreciation for the many different varieties of shortbread. Especially the ones that I've made recently.
Yesterday night, in a fit of inspiration and strangely channeled laziness, I decided to make american-sized jam thumbprint cookies, which I've named Apricot Jam Tarts. Sticking with the theme of cookie-bar, everything I make must have more of the good stuff. In this case, the good stuff is the jam-saturated shortbread portion of a thumbprint cookie. I used two sticks of high quality butter, a reckless pour of vanilla extract (drat, I just remembered that I used it all up, must buy more), powdered sugar (it does wonders for the texture), and NO OATMEAL. Here's where the laziness came in. I didn't want to spend the mental energy figuring out how to make this "healthy" with lots of "fiber" and "texture." Instead I wanted the chewy, buttery crumb of the shortbread to gently caress the homemade fuzzy apricot jam in a sweet embrace that whispered "Lowenstein" in the wind. I wanted these cookies to evoke memories of sandy beaches and early morning shorelines on the Atlantic for people who have never seen the ocean.
Part two of my laziness involved using large cupcake trays rather than mini ones because I didn't want to press shortbread into the bottoms of 36 mini tins. Instead, I made 20 big ones. Although I should really start making bigger batches of cookies because my mixer, it's a beast. It almost seems a waste to not put in 14 cups of flour at once. 2 cups of flour for the shortbread looked so lonely and minuscule at the bottom of the behemoth bowl. After baking the shortbread for a ridiculous amount of time, I learned a valuable lesson. I keep tweaking the recipe in ways that prolong the baking time. Here, I learned that I should most likely bake the shortbread tart cups first, and then add jam, and maybe a light broil or torch. Otherwise, I end up baking the freaking things for an hour while still freaking out about how the middle might be raw and gross. It's impossible to tell when the tray is still hot because the shortbread is soft and pliable. And falls apart. Resulting in the need to eat 3 of them at midnight.
In conclusion, these are really tasty. I'm going to add a bit more flour because it seemed a little crumbly. A bit more flour and a bit more cornstarch but otherwise the texture of the shortbread is delicious. I will write about this on Kickstarter.
Otherwise, in my life: the tree pollen today has really dampened any desire to open my eyes and greet the world. I have such a sinus/middle-head ache and sensitivity to light that I feel drugged. My cat is the most likely suspect for slipping ruffies into my water. That sly, furry, fox-lover is actually a dangerous and experienced double agent. With one paw she slinks into my bedroom and purrs affectionately, and with the other paw, she simultaneously sell my secrets to the Bolsheviks!
Yesterday night, in a fit of inspiration and strangely channeled laziness, I decided to make american-sized jam thumbprint cookies, which I've named Apricot Jam Tarts. Sticking with the theme of cookie-bar, everything I make must have more of the good stuff. In this case, the good stuff is the jam-saturated shortbread portion of a thumbprint cookie. I used two sticks of high quality butter, a reckless pour of vanilla extract (drat, I just remembered that I used it all up, must buy more), powdered sugar (it does wonders for the texture), and NO OATMEAL. Here's where the laziness came in. I didn't want to spend the mental energy figuring out how to make this "healthy" with lots of "fiber" and "texture." Instead I wanted the chewy, buttery crumb of the shortbread to gently caress the homemade fuzzy apricot jam in a sweet embrace that whispered "Lowenstein" in the wind. I wanted these cookies to evoke memories of sandy beaches and early morning shorelines on the Atlantic for people who have never seen the ocean.
Part two of my laziness involved using large cupcake trays rather than mini ones because I didn't want to press shortbread into the bottoms of 36 mini tins. Instead, I made 20 big ones. Although I should really start making bigger batches of cookies because my mixer, it's a beast. It almost seems a waste to not put in 14 cups of flour at once. 2 cups of flour for the shortbread looked so lonely and minuscule at the bottom of the behemoth bowl. After baking the shortbread for a ridiculous amount of time, I learned a valuable lesson. I keep tweaking the recipe in ways that prolong the baking time. Here, I learned that I should most likely bake the shortbread tart cups first, and then add jam, and maybe a light broil or torch. Otherwise, I end up baking the freaking things for an hour while still freaking out about how the middle might be raw and gross. It's impossible to tell when the tray is still hot because the shortbread is soft and pliable. And falls apart. Resulting in the need to eat 3 of them at midnight.
In conclusion, these are really tasty. I'm going to add a bit more flour because it seemed a little crumbly. A bit more flour and a bit more cornstarch but otherwise the texture of the shortbread is delicious. I will write about this on Kickstarter.
Otherwise, in my life: the tree pollen today has really dampened any desire to open my eyes and greet the world. I have such a sinus/middle-head ache and sensitivity to light that I feel drugged. My cat is the most likely suspect for slipping ruffies into my water. That sly, furry, fox-lover is actually a dangerous and experienced double agent. With one paw she slinks into my bedroom and purrs affectionately, and with the other paw, she simultaneously sell my secrets to the Bolsheviks!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Homemade Pizza Dough
As though it were a trophy of my accomplishment today, I have a burn on my index finger, the outer surface, on the knuckle, about the size of a pencil eraser. This lovely reminder of my mortality was bestowed upon me when I was trying to separate the aluminium foil from the flatbread pizza whilst the pizza was still in the jelly roll sheet. The pan was appropriately of volcanic temperature since it'd just been baking at "hot as my oven will go." I have such slow reactions to pain. What was that they said on Mythbusters, that a slow physical reaction to pain means I have a poorly functioning Parietal Lobe. Yet I have cat-like reflexes. Another way to put a positive spin on this is the say that I have a high tolerance for pain.
The flax meal dough I prepared last night was a success. I put the dough under the dough hook for a few minutes in order to amp up the gluten formation and elasticity. After letting the dough rest for 2 hours, I put olive oil on a foil sheet which lined a jelly roll pan. I turned out the dough and it expanded across the surface, decreasing its entropy. It took a few tries before I figured out how to spread the sticky, gooey dough across the surface of the pan without most of it sticking to my hands. Trick is to not use your hands. Yes. A brush for the oil or a scrappy thing works wonders at prodding the dough to the edge of the pan. When both hands are embroiled in muck, the realization that I can not touch anything makes me pull a face. Short of panicking, I get the urge to wash my hands. At least one hand has to be clean. Because, if both hands are dirty, as was the case today, opening a jar of flour with my elbows makes for a comical experience.
Since there was flax meal in this dough, I watched it carefully for any change in texture. Flax meal can make baked goods a little gummy. Similar to the sensation of okra. But it behaved itself and went into the oven without a hitch. The cheese browned nicely. The bottom crust browned nicely. Cutting through the crust yielded a satisfying "crunch." I consider this a success on the merits for flax meal bread. I will continue to make these flat crusty bread things. They taste delicious.
Next up is shortbread jam tarts.
The flax meal dough I prepared last night was a success. I put the dough under the dough hook for a few minutes in order to amp up the gluten formation and elasticity. After letting the dough rest for 2 hours, I put olive oil on a foil sheet which lined a jelly roll pan. I turned out the dough and it expanded across the surface, decreasing its entropy. It took a few tries before I figured out how to spread the sticky, gooey dough across the surface of the pan without most of it sticking to my hands. Trick is to not use your hands. Yes. A brush for the oil or a scrappy thing works wonders at prodding the dough to the edge of the pan. When both hands are embroiled in muck, the realization that I can not touch anything makes me pull a face. Short of panicking, I get the urge to wash my hands. At least one hand has to be clean. Because, if both hands are dirty, as was the case today, opening a jar of flour with my elbows makes for a comical experience.
Since there was flax meal in this dough, I watched it carefully for any change in texture. Flax meal can make baked goods a little gummy. Similar to the sensation of okra. But it behaved itself and went into the oven without a hitch. The cheese browned nicely. The bottom crust browned nicely. Cutting through the crust yielded a satisfying "crunch." I consider this a success on the merits for flax meal bread. I will continue to make these flat crusty bread things. They taste delicious.
Next up is shortbread jam tarts.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Glad doesn't wrap aluminium bowls
Okay, mister smarty pants. I've started a batch of crusty FLAX meal bread. In an aluminium mixing bowl. The picture on the Glad Wrap has a glass bowl. Of course. The plastic wrap doesn't stick/cling/seal aluminium bowl. Which is what I have. Were there no aluminium bowls around when plastic wrap was first invented? And now that there are aluminium bowls in every kitchen (and for everyone that has dainty wrists), what has been done to catch up in the plastic wrap industry?
Currently, the bread is proofing in several layers of plastic protection. It'll work for now. But what a million dollar idea could come out of this. Plastic wrap that adheres to aluminium bowls. When you come up with it, please let me test it out in my kitchen. I can be brutally honest in a distracting manner.
I finished my finals of the semester. Nay, of law school! I still wake in a panic early in the mornings, my heart racing and my brain pounding, thinking I've forgotten some assignment. It takes a little while to convince myself to chill-the-front-door-out. I'm not used to leisure. And I will enjoy what leisure I have before Bar study begins.
Busy baking week planned. It's warm, it's bread proofing weather, it's baking weather! No pastry crusts though. That'll come next week. Cutting cold butter into flour sounds like a dream come true! My kitchenaid will step up to the challenge. I wonder which attachment I am suppose to use.
Tomorrow will premiere my flax meal crust. Perfect for pizza crust. I tried some frozen pizza and was not impressed. Thus I will make my own. Easy way around the pizza sauce: heat up some salsa! It'll have bite, and is pre-seasoned! Generally I find canned/jarred pasta/pizza sauces to be bland and have too much sodium. And I love the fresh taste of medium kick salsa. A few minutes in the microwave or on my atomic stove (this little vintage puppy can boil a full pot of water in less than a minute -- magic!) and thus some nice nice pizza sauce. Slice some high quality Greyuere cheese, a drizzle of olive oil, some sausage, into a million degree oven. Cheaper than takeout, tastier than frozen. This dough is suitable for any purpose. I wonder if I can freeze it in order to ship it?
Currently, the bread is proofing in several layers of plastic protection. It'll work for now. But what a million dollar idea could come out of this. Plastic wrap that adheres to aluminium bowls. When you come up with it, please let me test it out in my kitchen. I can be brutally honest in a distracting manner.
I finished my finals of the semester. Nay, of law school! I still wake in a panic early in the mornings, my heart racing and my brain pounding, thinking I've forgotten some assignment. It takes a little while to convince myself to chill-the-front-door-out. I'm not used to leisure. And I will enjoy what leisure I have before Bar study begins.
Busy baking week planned. It's warm, it's bread proofing weather, it's baking weather! No pastry crusts though. That'll come next week. Cutting cold butter into flour sounds like a dream come true! My kitchenaid will step up to the challenge. I wonder which attachment I am suppose to use.
Tomorrow will premiere my flax meal crust. Perfect for pizza crust. I tried some frozen pizza and was not impressed. Thus I will make my own. Easy way around the pizza sauce: heat up some salsa! It'll have bite, and is pre-seasoned! Generally I find canned/jarred pasta/pizza sauces to be bland and have too much sodium. And I love the fresh taste of medium kick salsa. A few minutes in the microwave or on my atomic stove (this little vintage puppy can boil a full pot of water in less than a minute -- magic!) and thus some nice nice pizza sauce. Slice some high quality Greyuere cheese, a drizzle of olive oil, some sausage, into a million degree oven. Cheaper than takeout, tastier than frozen. This dough is suitable for any purpose. I wonder if I can freeze it in order to ship it?
Friday, May 6, 2011
Bonkers
I am going absolutely bonkers. Stir-crazy. The Cal State Bar exam does not contain multiple choice questions. Nope. So why is the final ALL MULTIPLE CHOICE? I love a good unreasonable test of patience as much as the next law student. But please stop hurting me.
Just a few more hours. Hopefully I will be able to sleep tonight after 3 nights of unrest.
Just a few more hours. Hopefully I will be able to sleep tonight after 3 nights of unrest.
Racoons and Flashcards
My father has been battling the local racoons in our neighborhood. Usually they go after the flowers that are my mother's jurisdiction. These racoons are hungry, kooky, and determined. When the racoons went after my mother's flowers, they would upset whole potted plants, dig up the roots, and bathe in the water-lily urn that my mother desperately tried to nurture. Any standing water was turned into a water park for the masked nocturnal rodents. It would drive my mother bonkers trying to secure her plants. All the while, my father sympathized by touting verbal wisdom.
Now, the racoons have gone after something near and dear to my father's heart: his prized bamboo. Yesterday, my father awoke to find several tender shoots mutilated. The shoots were about 1.5 feet tall. One was bent in half. The other had it's tender shoot head ripped off and chewed and spit out. My father found the discarded remains a few feet away. He has since declared war on the racoons and fashioned a barrier. Barricade. Chicken wire, barbed wire, buckets, all an elaborate production to deny racoons the pleasure of eating bamboo. Why would racoons go after the bamboo anyway? The stalks were not the tender edible shoots. It was the stringy, nearly fully grown stuff. There are many other green edibles in the yard. I suspect the racoons are going through all the plants until my parents go crazy.
Yesterday, I finished writing about 200 flashcards. But the path to memorization is a steep and slippery slope. Especially with the highly addictive nature of the internet, syndicated television, procrastination, allergies, cute kitty, etc. Imagine this process like a woman with a size 8 foot trying to squeeze into a size 5 kitten heel. Or a big cat trying to sleep in a tiny box. Or shoving 2 big pieces of sushi in your mouth at the same time. Hazardous to health, completely impractical and not necessarily accomplishing anything. But my last final is tomorrow. Yes. YES. LAST FINAL EVER.
I opened my Barbri materials today in an effort to find something on Remedies. The sheer overwhelming amount of stuff gave me a mini-panic and caused me to throw the books back in the box, slam the box shut and kick the whole thing under my bed. We got homework assigned already. This calls for a new recipe. Something escapist. Something that transports me away. Away from infinite memorization, where dreams go to die.
Now, the racoons have gone after something near and dear to my father's heart: his prized bamboo. Yesterday, my father awoke to find several tender shoots mutilated. The shoots were about 1.5 feet tall. One was bent in half. The other had it's tender shoot head ripped off and chewed and spit out. My father found the discarded remains a few feet away. He has since declared war on the racoons and fashioned a barrier. Barricade. Chicken wire, barbed wire, buckets, all an elaborate production to deny racoons the pleasure of eating bamboo. Why would racoons go after the bamboo anyway? The stalks were not the tender edible shoots. It was the stringy, nearly fully grown stuff. There are many other green edibles in the yard. I suspect the racoons are going through all the plants until my parents go crazy.
Yesterday, I finished writing about 200 flashcards. But the path to memorization is a steep and slippery slope. Especially with the highly addictive nature of the internet, syndicated television, procrastination, allergies, cute kitty, etc. Imagine this process like a woman with a size 8 foot trying to squeeze into a size 5 kitten heel. Or a big cat trying to sleep in a tiny box. Or shoving 2 big pieces of sushi in your mouth at the same time. Hazardous to health, completely impractical and not necessarily accomplishing anything. But my last final is tomorrow. Yes. YES. LAST FINAL EVER.
I opened my Barbri materials today in an effort to find something on Remedies. The sheer overwhelming amount of stuff gave me a mini-panic and caused me to throw the books back in the box, slam the box shut and kick the whole thing under my bed. We got homework assigned already. This calls for a new recipe. Something escapist. Something that transports me away. Away from infinite memorization, where dreams go to die.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
typing with one hand, crick in neck
Hello World,
I've rearranged the bones in my hand from writing about 150 flashcards. Essentially, I've distilled half a semester's worth of Remedies into those cards. Yes, only half because the first half were already made during the midterm. More later when the bones shift back into something resembling a hand. It looks like a cloven hoof right now. And the crick in my neck resembles a pointy tail and horns. Odd how the summer heat plays tricks on my mind.
Need rest. Final exam on Saturday. Must memorize.
I've rearranged the bones in my hand from writing about 150 flashcards. Essentially, I've distilled half a semester's worth of Remedies into those cards. Yes, only half because the first half were already made during the midterm. More later when the bones shift back into something resembling a hand. It looks like a cloven hoof right now. And the crick in my neck resembles a pointy tail and horns. Odd how the summer heat plays tricks on my mind.
Need rest. Final exam on Saturday. Must memorize.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Danger of electrocution
My acupuncturist advised me that soaking my feet in a tub of warm/hot water will help balance my chi by drawing down the fire from my head. This will calm and soothe the inferno that lives in my brain. It also helps the carpal tunnel since warmth soothes and soaks pain away. I've done it for the past 2 weeks and it has helped my insomnia. I still wake up really early in the morning, but I fall asleep easily now.
The question is: how dangerous is it if I soak my feet in a bucket of water while typing on my computer? Some part of my mind flashes red warning signs and flashes back to some movie where a person was soaking their feet in a basin of water and typing on something electronic, and then was electrocuted? Will I conduct electricity out of my computer and through my feet? The other way around? It just seems dangerous some how. Not as bad as toasting bread while taking a bath, that's just silly. But I enjoy living dangerously through small misguided acts of rebellion that seem significant in my head.
By the by, I'm not sure I like the look of this new Firefox 4.0 It looks an awful lot like vintage stupid Netscape that I ran on my 486 (remember those?).
The question is: how dangerous is it if I soak my feet in a bucket of water while typing on my computer? Some part of my mind flashes red warning signs and flashes back to some movie where a person was soaking their feet in a basin of water and typing on something electronic, and then was electrocuted? Will I conduct electricity out of my computer and through my feet? The other way around? It just seems dangerous some how. Not as bad as toasting bread while taking a bath, that's just silly. But I enjoy living dangerously through small misguided acts of rebellion that seem significant in my head.
By the by, I'm not sure I like the look of this new Firefox 4.0 It looks an awful lot like vintage stupid Netscape that I ran on my 486 (remember those?).
When yogurt goes off, what does it look like?
I may have eaten some Greek Yogurt that had gone off. When I peeled back the foil, the yogurt looked aerated. And when my spoon dipped into the center, there was a slight crackling sound, as though fermentation had happened. Not being overly experienced with Greek yogurt, my initial brilliant thought was "This is different!"
In the movie land of my mind, this is where the audience shouts at the movie screen, "Stupid girl, different kills! Run! Run! Go throw up or something! Botulism is going to KILL YOU!" Fade to black.
We have experienced some very hot temperatures in Berkeley which has caused the shortbread I made on Friday to blossom into a delicious buttery crumb. I was skeptic when the recipe said it gets better with age because age usually brings mold, fermentation and the effects of gravity. Only the first two have shown to improve the taste of food and drink. The last one is a sign to start investing in strong elastic straps. Everything succumbs to the force field of gravity.
In the past, I start wearing a uniform during finals week. There is a micro-fiber knit top that I like to wear because it keeps me warm and it is really soft. But I haven't done that this semester. The finals uniform is a superstitious tradition similar to athletes who always put on their gloves and cup in a certain order. I doubt there is a direct causal connection between the knit top and my performance on the final exam. Maybe it cuddles me during the long hours of study, misleading me into thinking that I am in a safe, warm place. Mostly, it keeps me dry (it's a yoga top) because studying for exams causes people to sweat in unreasonable places with comically-strong odors. For proof, please refer to the school's library. The study room gets a bit rank and I think I've seen the glass windows fog up a little from the moisture. I would say it's like that scene in Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet have an intimate moment in a vintage motorcar and he leaves a handprint on the fogged up rear window. Except the school is neither vintage, cool nor capable of intimate moments. No one is going to make a movie about studying for final exams without an extreme montage sequence, several montage sequences. And death will not save me from student loan forgiveness by dragging me into the cold North Atlantic. So really it's not like that movie at all. This is my sad, lonely, isolated personal hell, that I share with about 10,000 other bar takers this summer. Bring your sunscreen!
In the movie land of my mind, this is where the audience shouts at the movie screen, "Stupid girl, different kills! Run! Run! Go throw up or something! Botulism is going to KILL YOU!" Fade to black.
We have experienced some very hot temperatures in Berkeley which has caused the shortbread I made on Friday to blossom into a delicious buttery crumb. I was skeptic when the recipe said it gets better with age because age usually brings mold, fermentation and the effects of gravity. Only the first two have shown to improve the taste of food and drink. The last one is a sign to start investing in strong elastic straps. Everything succumbs to the force field of gravity.
In the past, I start wearing a uniform during finals week. There is a micro-fiber knit top that I like to wear because it keeps me warm and it is really soft. But I haven't done that this semester. The finals uniform is a superstitious tradition similar to athletes who always put on their gloves and cup in a certain order. I doubt there is a direct causal connection between the knit top and my performance on the final exam. Maybe it cuddles me during the long hours of study, misleading me into thinking that I am in a safe, warm place. Mostly, it keeps me dry (it's a yoga top) because studying for exams causes people to sweat in unreasonable places with comically-strong odors. For proof, please refer to the school's library. The study room gets a bit rank and I think I've seen the glass windows fog up a little from the moisture. I would say it's like that scene in Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet have an intimate moment in a vintage motorcar and he leaves a handprint on the fogged up rear window. Except the school is neither vintage, cool nor capable of intimate moments. No one is going to make a movie about studying for final exams without an extreme montage sequence, several montage sequences. And death will not save me from student loan forgiveness by dragging me into the cold North Atlantic. So really it's not like that movie at all. This is my sad, lonely, isolated personal hell, that I share with about 10,000 other bar takers this summer. Bring your sunscreen!
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