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Posts from the ‘Ranting’ Category

May 6

Muffin Mondays: Money, Religion and Politics – The three Tablueberries

Question from reading facebook last night: Are we, that great high school essay “we” meaning “society”, getting smarter or just louder about politics?

I know many of us grew up with the phrase “You don’t discuss money, religion or politics” thrown about in reference to topics of polite conversation.  I tend to follow this rule as best as I can since it has some validity—especially in the workplace or a dinner party.  I find it’s usually good not to engage in a conversation on these topics with that dirty man wearing the tinfoil hat on my street corner.  Doesn’t he know it’s rude to shout at strangers about government?  Where are your societal standards of dignity man!

On the internet though…man have we ever abandoned this axiom of polite conversation.  As we should—after all these things DO need to be discussed…somewhere.  You don’t get political action if everyone is too polite to talk about it.  The internet, outlets like facebook especially, provides us with a chance to discuss these things but also turn it off and walk away.  You can close a forum with a particularly nasty character in it.  You can’t move offices everytime you get into it with a coworker.  Yet the internet, facebook especially, is littered with misinformation.  I get frustrated when memes proliferate on newsfeeds that are invalid—misattributed quotes, ignorant assumptions or loud proclamations based upon faulty information.

Sometimes I really wonder if this magical interwebs is making us better voters or just louder whiners.  No one on either side of the aisle denies that our political system currently is a mess.  We’ve got a gaggle of elected officials who don’t seem to be worth a damn and they are running us into the ground.  You might disagree about which side they are on but republicans and democrats all in general seem to be pretty dissatisfied with something.  United we stand…in our disgust.  But why? I mean we elect these officials—the power is theoretically in our hands.  Why is this happening?

On my more cynical nights, of which there are many, I come circling back to one thought: People don’t actually know a damn thing about their government anymore.  Healthcare, Guns, Taxes, Marriage…we all have our emotional responses to these issues and most of the posts I see on facebook are precisely that: emotion based declarations.  No one actually examines the issue through the scope of how our government works.  Take the very powerfully, emotionally charged issue of gun control—most reactions and demands for legislation are based entirely off the result of tragedies or regional upbringing.

There’s another phrase that I think of on the topic of politics.  Lesser known and often misattributed (thanks facebook) to President Lincoln: “Every country has the government it deserves.”  Lincoln didn’t say that—in fact it came from a French lawyer by the name of Joseph de Maistre—who supported monarchy over democracy by the way.  Still the quote often times seems valid.  Ultimately we seem to be getting what we ask for.  How many of our politicians have actually read the constitution?  Great question.  Here’s another one: how many voters have actually read the constitution?

I am not trying to belittle anyone when I ask that.  I just think it’s a valid question.  We want our politicians to be smarter, to be more responsible and to actually act in line with how our government is supposed to work.  I ask you how do we get better politicians?  By becoming better voters.  We won’t get the government we want if we don’t inform ourselves.  I know some highly opinionated people who engage in political discourse quite frequently who never seem to know their 4th amendment from their 5th; who don’t know that the issue of a federal bank was largely debated from the founding of the government; who don’t know the origins of the income tax.  Understanding the basis of our government, why it operates the way it does, dramatically alters the scope of how we should legislate.  If we want our politicians to know what they are talking about, we need to know what they are talking about not take them on their word.

It seems that most Americans born in this country would fail the civics test that foreigners have to pass to be naturalized, voting citizens.  I don’t think that being born in this country makes you inherently wiser about its political system.  Let me ask you these five questions–can you honestly answer them?  Answers can be found if highlight the hidden text except for the 1st question as that’s state specific….

  1. Name your State US Representative
  2. How many amendments are there currently to the US Constitution?  Answer: 27
  3. How many justices are on the US Supreme Court? Answer: 9
  4. When was the US Constitution written? Answer: 1787 –
  5. How long do we elect a US Senator for? Answer: 6 years

Why do these kinds of questions matter?  Well take number 4 as an example.  The revolution was fought and won between 1774-1776.  Knowing when the constitution was written and/or ratified (hint: not immediately after) would raise other questions that make you an informed voter.  How did we govern ourselves between those years?  What prompted the content of our constitution–what was the intent of the framers?  Knowing this helps to guide us in drafting new legislation and understanding how it should be written in order to work within the specific architecture of our political system.

The only way to make our politicians begin to legislate with more wisdom and less rhetoric is if we as voters become more demanding and more educated.  So sometimes on my more cynical days I wonder what would happen if the first 10 boxes you had to check on a ballot were actually a mini-civics test.  Fail the test and your vote doesn’t count.  Interestingly enough there isn’t anything in the constitution that says we can’t do this…I’m not saying we should and I’m aware how problematic this would be.  We would wind up creating a class structure since lower classes are more likely to be less educated yadda yadda yadda.  I’m only positing this as a thought born out of frustration.  And now I can never run for office because the media will take this musing thought experiment and turn it into a headline reading “Congressional candidate thinks only the rich should vote.”  I should probably make political discussion entirely taboo on this blog and not drive you all away with these kinds of radical thoughts.

How about something radical in the kitchen instead?  I wanted to reinvent the blueberry muffin recently and man oh man did this recipe turn out amazing.  The muffins are a deep, mahogany color thanks to my inspiration to use date syrup as a sweetener.  I also wanted to find a new, unusual but complimentary flavor for the blueberries.  I was running a mental run-through of all the spices I know and one screamed out at me: anise.  The vaguely licorice flavor is really nice with blueberries and can stand up to the stronger flavor of the date syrup.  I was quite pleased.  Finally the use of sour cream in the batter makes these really moist, springy and tender to eat.  I might not be able to get a better brand of politician but I definitely got a better blueberry muffin.

Anise Blueberry Muffins

An Olivia Original – makes 18 muffins Read more

Apr 29

2 Comments

Muffin Monday: Attracting seedy attention

I just got back from a work trip to exotic Fresno where I was harassed so severely by two men at my hotel that I actually complained and got them kicked out of their rooms.  Their behavior, which included asking to take my picture and following me in a parking lot, was beyond the level of good taste.  While what happened was unquestionably inappropriate, got me to thinking about times where this kind of behavior is tempered and the disconnect between what men think is okay and what women do not want to experience.  So menfolk we need to have a little chat.

This doesn’t pertain to all of you, or even most of you, directly but I think you all need to be made aware of this so you can understand women and stop this behavior when you see it.  Now I will make small talk when I’m in a good mood with my cashier or the cab driver.  I know that it breaks up the monotony of the day in the service industry to have someone friendly engage you for even a few minutes.  I’ve been there.  I had my high school stint as a worker bee at Mervyn’s.  But if there is a woman you are ringing up, or helping, or in a car with who is clearly having a bad day–leave her the frak alone.  Seriously.  Don’t make it your job to cheer her up because if she’s anything like me she really, really doesn’t want you to.  In fact having a strange male approach me when I’m in that mood doesn’t help me feel better–it puts me on edge.

Often I will be walking down the street after having a bad day, and I wear my heart on my sleeve I admit it, and a man will tell me to smile.  “Smile!  You’ll be so much prettier if you smile.”  – “Would you smile for me?” — “Cheer up!  Smile!”  This does not make me feel good.  This does not make me feel safe.  What’s more you don’t have any right to demand that I be “prettier” or happy all the time.  I do not know of a single woman who has ever done this to a complete strange man as he passes her by on the street.  You know why?  It’s not our place to tell you how to feel or express those feelings.  It is also not my job or duty to be pretty for you.

You have no right to demand that the women all around you in the world always be happy and smiling.  Even if your intention is to cheer us up, a great intention I’ll admit, you have no right.  I get to be upset or tired or sad or angry if I want to.  I’m human damn it and I have a right to the range of emotions that don’t make me some shiny, plastic flower in your garden.  So let me be.  Especially if you are someone I don’t know stopping me on the street.  If I’m having a bad day and I’m feeling out of sorts, I’m going to engage in a fight or flight panic when you do this.  I’m going to immediately have to question your intentions and get ready to protect myself.  So even if you aren’t in any way threatening, you are eliciting the exact opposite response from me that you intend to.  Because sometimes I do have to get ready to protect myself like last night.

I pulled into the hotel and it was late.  I was tired.  I don’t particularly enjoy driving for more than an hour at a time.  I get antsy.  I like to move.  I don’t like being cramped in a car having to worry about drivers cutting across 4 lines sending me swerving to avoid both them and the wall–yes this happened too.  It was dark and I was in a strange place.  I just wanted to get into bed and sleep.  Two men on a golf cart start in on me.  “Aww honey smile!”  I ignore them and continue to get my bags out of the car.  They stop.  “Hey can you do us a favor?”  Exasperated I say “No.”  The men turn to each other and roll their eyes.  “Come on you’ll be so much prettier if you smile.  Smile.  Let me take your picture, it’ll cheer you up.  Don’t worry it will be tasteful.”  I am inflamed.  This is beyond just “cheering” me up.  Maybe they were drunk.  Maybe they were professional photographers for Vogue.  It doesn’t matter.  It was uncalled for.  I shuffled away, satisfied they weren’t following me and went directly to my room, to my phone and called the front desk.  I was called back 15 minutes later and told these guests had been removed from the property and that I didn’t need to worry about the duration of my stay.

Even ignoring this situation guys, please try to remember that women are not under an obligation to be pretty or happy for you.  No one demands that men always be happy, smiling and walking around with muscles and perfect hair.  You do not have the right to demand this of me or to try to impose it upon me.  When you try it does not make me feel special or happy.  It makes me angrier and makes my day worse.  Not all women are sure to feel this way.  I can’t speak for all of womankind but I’d wager that there are more of us than not.  It just comes across as seedy.

And speaking of seeds how about some gluten free sesame seed muffins?  I’ve broken out of my vegan week–huzzah!  It was an interesting experiment but definitely not the way I think I’ll be living my life 24/7.  Worthwhile to make the effort though and so you might see some “Meatless Mondays” breaking up the muffin monotony.  Not today though.  Today I have this recipe which I was inspired to make during my vegan stint.  It seems that gluten free baking became much easier for me to fathom when I was cutting out eggs and buttermilk as well.  These muffins are very strange at first but I was inspired to make them after craving some chocolate covered sunflower seeds.  Savory and sweet.  These seem to improve the next day if you keep them airtight. I might cut back on the mini-chocolate chips though.  I think a third of a cup would suffice.

Gluten Free Sunflower Seed Muffins

an Olivia Original Read more

Apr 10

Your morning coffee with a side of Rape Culture

Putting up a recipe with this post feels wrong.  I don’t want to add anything to it that would add levity or lightness.  I don’t want to diminish what these thoughts meant coming out of me by adding on some attempt at lightening the mood.  So I’m going to shelve today’s recipe and give it to you Raw and Unfinished.

I thought Steubenville would be the end of it for a little while.  Sure another case was bound to pop up but the calm had settled and I decided not to write a post about this.  It’s passed.  Let it go.  Try to focus on moving forward Olivia.  Why keep yourself mired in the horror of stories about people you don’t know?  Why are you crying everytime you hear about it?  Just let it go.

Then I woke up this morning to a fresh new story of horror.  Horror at what it means to be a young girl, a victim and reviled for being one.  A headline that read: “Rehtaeh Parsons, a 17-year-old from Halifax, Nova Scotia, hung herself in her family’s bathroom last week after photos of her gang rape were distributed online by classmates.” And so the discourse on our rape culture begins again and I find the post and thoughts I’d put aside since the topic had “passed” were once again relevant.  How could I have ever thought I could just let it go?  It’s not going anywhere and even on my own “Friend Feed” on facebook I find the kind of comments that make me want to scream about rape culture at anyone listening.  Men, and it’s almost always men, rolling their eyes at the concept of a “culture of rape” and getting indignant that the topic is insinuating all men are ready to use their penises as weapons.

Hey guys.  Get the fuck over yourselves.  This isn’t some Bezerkeley femi-nazi crusade of Amazons looking to castrate all the XYs.  Let me explain to you what rape culture is:

  • Rape culture is a world where a girl gets blamed for her own rape.
  • Rape culture is a world where we follow up a story about a girl who gets drunk and raped with “well but she should have known better” or “this is why girls shouldn’t go out and drink.”
  • Rape culture is where a girl gets questioned about her makeup, her clothes, her body language, her drug use, her drinking choices, her fucking menstrual cycle when she’s testifying about her rape because someone any of those things can invalidate her lack of consent.
  • Rape culture is a world where even women attack other women; call them sluts and whores, to defend the men they know who raped these girls.
  • Rape culture is embedded in our minds from the god damn fucking old testament.  Because why does Adam get kicked out of Eden?  Well it’s because Eve tempted him with her fucking apple.  Never mind Adam made the choice to eat it.  Nope.  The fault and blame forever lies with the woman of the story—the temptress.  Not the one with the impulse and the choice to follow it.

This past weekend I went to see Spring Breakers against my better judgment because a friend really wanted to see it again.  He wanted to understand why he liked the movie so much.  I’m not going to comment on why he does—I don’t know why.  I do know that I hated it.  With a passion unbeknownst to me outside torture porn flicks.  This movie has gotten a lot of shit and I totally understand why.  One scene in particular stuck out to me.  Of the four girls, the “sluttier” one is inside partying up a storm while the other three get shot in their little bikinis in a hot tub having some “transcendent” moment that mostly involves lots of tits and ass shots.  Whatever.  Meanwhile the “slutty” one is drinking up a storm with a room of guys.  She’s being “whorey” and showing off her breasts, teasing the boys with her provocative wiggles and touching herself singing “never gonna get this pussy” as though she’s inviting them to tackle her.  The guys pour alcohol on her and tell her to take it like a prostitute.  Charming no?  The scene ends without really going anywhere and switches to the girls drinking in a parking lot and laughing.  We never see how the earlier moment ends.

I can tell you how it ends.  Here’s your reality check: The “slutty” one passes out, or maybe she’s still awake, when she gets gang raped by the boys she’s drinking with.  She wakes up and maybe she decides to press charges.  The case never goes anywhere.  Why?  Well she had been drinking, she’d been leading them on, they didn’t know she was underage, drugs were involved…nope.  Nothing can be done.  Doesn’t matter if she was literally unable to consent.  Doesn’t matter if at the end of the night after all her teasing and taunting she really said no.  She was misbehaving and this is what happens and it’s sad but you should have known better young lady.  And the film makes us want to believe that too.  After all she certainly seems to be asking for it and after taunting those boys with her apple, how can we penalize them for taking a bite?  Why else would she behave this way?  It couldn’t possibly be because films like this one glamorize and encourage that kind of behavior in the first place could it?  It couldn’t possibly be that she got out of control drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly?  And it certainly doesn’t matter if she didn’t want it in the end because her right to change her mind, even at the last minute, is only valid if she did nothing to tempt the boys.  IF anything about you as a woman dares be interpreted as provocative well then by golly you are just asking for it.  I’m sure plenty of the rape-culture deniers roll their eyes here.  Have you ever witnessed a police examination of a rape victim?  Have you ever seen how these girls get treated at trials?  THIS IS HOW WE TREAT OUR DAUGHTERS.  Don’t tell me we don’t have a culture of rape when they are raped repeatedly, again and again, not only by the attackers but our relentless attempt to point fingers right back at the girls who were attacked.

This is the bottom line: laws aren’t put in place to defend only the righteous and virginal.  Laws to protect idiots are even more important—it’s those times we turn down a bad alley, or let our guard down, that we need protection more than ever. Sure it might be unbelievably stupid to get drunk and party with a bunch of strange men.  There’s no denying that but that has absolutely nothing to do with our duty to still protect the girl who does this.  She should not be invalidated in any way for making that choice and she certainly is no less a victim than a girl who is attacked simply walking down the street.  A woman should be able to walk naked down a Chicago city street at 2AM and not be attacked.  Period.  End of story.

Did anyone else notice that of the 4 girls in the film who winds up injured by the way?  The “slutty” one gets shot and goes home forever marked by her experiences with a scar from a penetrating wound she can never erase.  Yet there’s nothing to connect us to her.  Nothing to make us feel bad for her.  She gets hurt but does anyone in the audience really care?  Nope.   We do care about the “good girl” who leaves the film earlier without any scars or damage. Coincidence?

Apr 8

Muffin Monday: Bran-ding Mango Fett

I missed my scifriday post last week.  I just got too busy and didn’t manage to get it together but I do have some geeky thoughts on my mind and they are invading my muffin zone!

Once again I find myself at a crossroads where I am both always staunchly defending geek culture to outsiders (the “normies”) and yet also often highly dissatisfied and critical of those within my adopted realm.  It is a strange experience to both be loudly defending and critiquing the world I’m a part of.  It is also strange that I feel totally locked into my role as a geek by non-geeks and yet constantly feel pressure to defend/demonstrate my worthiness of the moniker to my peers.  It’s a not easy to navigate this contradiction of my very existence.

The internal struggle within geek culture to demonstrate how geeky you really are….  Well it’s been on my mind a lot lately for so many reasons.  I was deciding how to decorate my bathroom and trying desperately to find some way to reconcile my desire for a “girly” space with my geekier interests.  I was spending way too much energy obsessing over which shower curtain to buy based on how it could accessorize with geekier objects in the room.  Eventually I sat back and asked myself what the hell I was doing.  I really didn’t want to spend more than $15 dollars on a shower curtain—I’m not actually decorating a home where I plan on living for the next ten years and my lease is month to month.  I could be gone at any moment.  It’s not a situation where I’m looking to nail art to the walls.  I don’t need to spend 75 dollars buying this one shower curtain because it manages to both fit into the more “feminine” styling I want but color coordinates well with lab equipment.  Why do I feel like I have to put my geek on display in a room which is really only used to “shit, shower and shave”?

Then I was spending International Table Top day with my family.  Mom busted out her Star Trek Monopoly game she got for Christmas and had been desperate to play.  Monopoly is a painful exercise to begin with—let’s be real.  It’s wheeling and dealing and any family that doesn’t end the game with someone upturning the board is ahead in my book.  We actually haven’t done that to date but you get the idea.  Anyway add in the Star Trek element and there were moments were I was literally grinding my teeth.  Mom picking on Dad for not getting references proclaiming “see he’s not really a geek” only a few minutes later to turn around and discover that there were cards she didn’t recognize either.  AHA!  See you don’t really know anything either.

When did Star Trek monopoly become about proving who knows more about phaser settings and Theremins?  Shouldn’t we be fighting over the gold pressed latinum and whether or not it’s ego-centric that the Federation be equivalent to Park Place.  We all were whining that the creators of “Continuum edition” were so lazy they couldn’t even rename the Jail to be the Brig.  Seriously guys the Contiuum edition of Star Trek Monopoly blows.  Don’t buy it.  Worst. Monopoly Adaptation. Ever.

But back to my point.  IT was painful at times to have this feeling of “one-uping” over geek cred.  I’ve bemoaned this problem largely as a female in a world predominantly male but it occurs even when you remove the gender part of the equation.  Not as much and not as nastily, but it’s there nonetheless.  Why is this?  Well the pop-culture nerd-splosion in the hipster community is largely to blame I guess.  Lots of 20-somethings walking around sporting Han Solo back packs with absolutely no understanding what the phrase “Han Shot First” actually means. The problem is that now if you don’t know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING in geek culture you are immediately suspected of being a phony.

Which leads back to my bathroom conundrum and my realization that lately I’ve been on a quest to absorb literally everything geeky to avoid this.  Frankly it’s exhausting.  Look I admit it; I didn’t know that Boba Fett was such an icon until late in High School when someone I knew started rambling on about the character.  And Jango Fett?  I didn’t know bantha shit about this character until the abomination of the new films.  I was more into Star Trek and while I’d read a number of Star Trek books, I’d never touched one for the Star Wars universe.  I’d seen, loved and worshipped the films but my fandom ended there.  Why?  There’s just not enough time to do it all.  It’s not fair to expect any of us to.  It’s also not fair to limit ourselves to only engaging in geeky pursuits out of a pressure to constantly demonstrate our involvement in the culture.

If I want a Barbie Bathroom then by Joss, I should be allowed to have a Barbie Bathroom and not have my passion for space aliens called into question.  Actually it’s got more of a floral vibe right now than anything else but you get my point.  It’s just exhausting otherwise and all we do is wind up alienating one another—and that’s not the kind of alien-nation we like.

Mango Bran Muffins

An Olivia Original Read more

Apr 4

1 Comment

Have I fractured my funny scone?

More and more I feel like the wet blanket.  I seem to find certain jokes far less amusing than others—especially jokes that I feel marginalize any group of people or legitimate problem the world is facing.  Rape jokes, sexist jokes…general teasing that has to do with someone’s sexual orientation?  All of it just puts me in a sour mood and I wind up just wanting to leave wherever I’m currently at.  I don’t think I always used to be this way so what is it?  Is it something in the water trickling down from Berkeley that’s making me far too serious or am I just finally experiencing the social issues that were largely only textbook in their reality during adolescence?  Is it that I’ve just become too self-centered to be able to look at myself with an objective eye and laugh?

On one hand I’ve always been “so serious” about perceived injustice.  Even as a child I wanted to save the world.  I guess mom shoulda named me Ka-ka-ka-Katie.  **TRIVIA TIME: Name that movie and win a cookie!  PS: my last trivia winner still needs to email me his info so I can mail out a treat!  Hey you, yeah I’m talking to you, send me your info and any allergens to my blog’s email addy: rollingsreliableblog at g mai l dot com** I do think part of it is that I’m experiencing more of life rather than reading about it.  There are issues that seem far less important than they did and others that seem to be so ignored by people around me that I want to scream.  Sometimes I just want to get out a drum and hold it in someone’s face and yell “WAKE UP!”  The apathy and willful ignorance that serve as a constant state of existence for some…I don’t understand it.  I never have.  Some stupid little voice inside me just won’t shut up and I can’t sit by the sidelines and watch and do nothing.  I have to do something—even if it’s just letting the people I want to defend know I’m here.  I have to do something.

I noticed that there are people in this world just hellbent upon making it a miserable place for the rest of us and I have no desire to be around them.  Thankfully this is a minority of folks and I find that most people are generally decent and well intentioned.  Even so these decent people have a tendency to “kid around” to such an extent that I always feel very distant from them.  The joking, the kidding, the teasing…I don’t know it just gets old after a while.  I’ve always been one to provide a good ribbing and I like to think that I take as well as I give—but I’m more apt to get annoyed when the target is someone other than myself.  I’ll go up in arms twice as quickly when the butt of the joke isn’t my own.  I’d like to think with all the squats I’ve been doing my own ass is pretty springy and most stuff bounces off of it.  Provided I’ve had enough sleep and coffee that day anyway.  No coffee = no sense of humor.  Word to the wise and future significant others.  Take for example this joke which I’ve heard far too many times and which seems particularly relevant after the flurry of rape culture commentary in the past few weeks:

“Hey what do you tell a woman with two black eyes?”

“Nothing.  You’ve already told her twice.”

There may have been a time and a place, with the right people, where I’d have laughed at that.  Not anymore.  I have no circumstance in mind where I can find a joke like that funny.  Or many many others.  I’m too angry about those people who are trying to make this world a nasty exclusive place to find humor in injustice anymore.  I guess there are just some things that are…difficult for me to laugh about Hubbell.

Part of this too I think comes from my continuing goal to eliminate negativity in my life.  I’ve had so much of it and I’ve had enough.  I’ve had twice, maybe three times, my fair share to contend with—and I’m well aware that it still pales in comparison to what some other people in this world deal with.  I’m just so tired of it.  I can’t control or stop the general trend of the universe toward entropy.  Shit happens – act tough and get over it.  That’s a motto I’m pretty well versed in.  While I can’t control what chaotic elements life invites to the dinner party, I can make sure that my table is set.  I think if I were to be my own super hero it would be “Type A-girl” It’s so much who I am it’s even my blood type.  Badumsh!

I don’t really want to be known as the girl with the giant stick…in the mud but at the same time I can’t just forget about the world either.  I can only promise this: I can’t stop trying to change or control things but I can do my best to not take myself too seriously.  Just know that while I will do my best to accept teasing of my own faults and flaws, I won’t respond as kindly if it involves anyone else I care about.

And on the subject of anal personalities and table settings, how about some SCONES?  Those trademark tea-time pastry of oh-so-proper British ladies.  Since I’m trying to find a way to stay true to myself (the British proper side) but still flex my funny scone (what the Brits might consider the “Cowboy American” side) I offer up to you this melding of American/British sensibilities.  It’s a scone with a classic American twist: apple-cheddar.  Kind of like the southern Apple Cheddar Pie that is so damn good and so damn…colonial.

Dorie Greenspan’s Apple Cheddar Scones

From “Baking from my home to yours” Dorie Greenspan  **I do not own** Read more

Mar 14

1 Comment

Live and let Pie

Happy Pie Day everyone.  Man am I glad I got to baking early because things have gotten…well to say “hectic” would be an understatement.

Actually I’m kind of a mess right now.

I messed up something at work.  I’m freaking out about some family stresses.  I’ve got pressure on me to do things that I shouldn’t even be doing.  I just want to curl up and cry.  So instead of course, I pulled out a rolling pin, got to sweating and baked some pie.  After all as the song says “Baby don’t you cry, gonna bake a pie, gonna bake a pie with a heart in the middle.  Baby don’t be blue, gonna bake for you, gonna bake a pie with a heart in the middle.”  Waitress has become my go-to movie for when I really need a good cry and for pie day so it kind of works on both fronts today.

What I really need is for those close to me to cut me some slack if I need it.  I have a tendency to withdraw when I’m overwhelmed.  It’s an INFJ personality trait and it’s a seriously important defense mechanism for me.  I’ll often do things that make no sense to those who don’t “get it” – like how can you find time to bake if you claim to be so busy?  Well for one thing this replaced my sleeping and for another it’s a sort of active meditation for me.  Plus I can multitask in the kitchen and listen to lectures (oh yeah did I mention I’m back in school on top of the million other things I’m doing) while I keep my hands moving.  It’s also a solitary activity which is what I need when I’m freaking out and all up in my head.  For some people talking things out is what helps.  It doesn’t help me.  I need to be left alone, to develop an action plan and work out my problems on my own.

Part of this is because the time it would take to explain what’s going on would be extensive.  Simply spending 15 minutes having to explain the backstory of why something is the way it is, and then answering the subsequent questions, just adds to my anxiety.  When I’m up against the wall the thing I usually want most is time and I don’t feel like I have any to waste.  Plus the questions are usually extremely frustrating because unless you’ve actually lived through it all, usually there’s just no way to really impart an understanding of why something is upsetting me so much—especially when I’m dealing with messier and complicated problems like family.  (To clarify there aren’t any emergencies with mia familia.  Just some added stress I don’t need which would, under best circumstances, be annoying but at the moment making me flip the fuck out.  I realize I’m over reacting about it and that’s the important thing.)

I’ve never claimed to be an easy person to get along with.  I know that I’ll snap if I try to socialize when I’m like this so instead I just pull back completely.  It’s better for my friendships in the long run.  I just wish people could understand that.  There’s a hard outer shell I provide to the world and then a squishy, soft interior but underneath that is a third shell just like the outer, surface layer.  Like with pie. Tightly wound people like me are never going to stop being crazy—but what makes me the sort of person who can manage it is that I recognize when it’s happening and take steps to minimize the outfall.  So instead of flipping out at people for seemingly no reason, I can temper the storm until it passes.  Much easier to evacuate than clean up damage after the earthquake you see?

I really want the world to stop trying to change me.  I hear “hey you need to learn to relax and take it easy” way too much.  No, not just friends, but from every corner of every media out there.  I swear I think there’s a billboard nearby about smelling the roses.  Well I love rose, and I will stop to appreciate a flower when I have the time, but I’m not going to turn off this hyperdrive I’ve got.  It’s just not in my DNA.  I don’t do the standing still thing very well…unless I’m on a yoga mat.  And even then, the reason I can handle the slowness of meditation in Bikram is because it’s the punctuation to a very active form of yoga.  While I want to learn how to better manage my stress, because hey no one wants to feel like they are on the verge of having an Alice in Wonderland – drown in your own tears – kind of moment, I also don’t feel a need to radically change myself either.  Don’t worry, my blood pressure can handle it. Sometimes I think I’m hardwired this way because I physically need it.  When my bp is regularly 95/50 I have to think that without any stress in my life I’d wind up dead!

I want to be understood and in kind I’ll do my best to adapt to the styles of others.  I want to be trusted to handle my own concerns as I see fit.  I want to get the sense of accomplishment that comes from defeating these troubles when I’m confronted with them.

But mostly right now I just want some pie.  I call this a triple apple pie because in addition to the apples I use apple butter and an apple whisky I love for baking and cocktails.  Both ingredients are optional—though both make the flavor incredible so I wouldn’t recommend leaving it out.  IF you can’t find apple butter just increase your sugar by ¼ a cup.  If you can’t find the apple whisky…well you can instead try 2 tsp of a standard whisky with 1 tsp of apple cider.

Triple Apple Pie

An Olivia Original Read more

Mar 8

3 Comments

SciFriday and the Feminist Mys-Quiche

IMG_2932Today is International Women’s Day and I find myself focusing in on it through the lens of my culture—not the Jewish one but rather the geeky one.  As a woman I often find myself troubled both by the attitudes of the “normies” and the male geeks within the scifi world.  There’s one thing that unifies these two seemingly disparate groups: they remain ever incredulous about the geeks with lovely lady lumps.  Yeah I just wrote that sentence.

In my younger years I digested most of my science fiction in the form of the written word.  I grew up reading both the classics and every bargain bin paperback I could get my hands on.  Heinlein.  Adams.  Asimov.  Scott Card.  Herbert.  Huxley.  Clarke.  Wells.  Bradbury.  Oh…Bradbury.   But what do you notice about all these names?  They’re all male.  Every damn last one.  I have nothing against the male sex mind you and for a long time I didn’t really notice that my bookcase had this imbalance of gender.  I did after all have a few books written by women—Madame L’engle and Lois Lowry for example—but for the most part scifi as a genre was and is largely dominated by men.

For a while I was happy in this little world of spaceships, lasers and dystopian futures.  Then one day I woke up.  I think it coincided with middle school and frankly it kind of shocks me that I don’t remember realizing this sooner.  I had always been a very “girl power” oriented kid.  I was in elementary school during the reign of the platform british diva and definitely spent nights in front of my mirror singing “wannabe” with a hairbrush.  The theme I wrote up for my 10th birthday party?  Girls Rule, Boys Drool—Splash til you Crash Birthday Bash.  It was a pool party—ahem.  Anyway THAT embarrassing tidbit aside the point is suddenly one day I realized all my books were written about or by men. IMG_2929

Thus began my search for scifi written by women and a dark and disturbing realization: there is a great deal of scifi written by women but they changed their names to be accepted.  A number of books I’d read were written by women but I had no way of knowing that, and based on the trend by the more notable authors, I always assumed that names which followed the A. Z. Last Name formatting were men.  That was exactly what the publishing industry wanted me to think—or rather what they wanted little boys to think.  It started as a way for women to publish when it was considered indecent to do so and then carried on as tradition because publishing companies didn’t think boys and men would want to read books written by a woman.

IMG_2936Disgusted, I understood that this belief not only dismissed females as writers—but females as readers.  It completely ignored the girls who were reading, the girls who might choose to read a book because it was authored by someone with whom they share a certain ovarian affinity.  Talk about a total invalidation of my greatest love.  Heck even J.K. Rowling fell trap to that line of thinking as her editors didn’t believe Harry Potter would sell to boys if they knew the author was a woman.  Well that cat got out of the bag and Rowling is still richer than the bloody queen so fuck-that.  Sadly it’s probably somewhat true that boys would turn away more from female written works.  There are certainly a number of men I’ve met who avoid anything that seems remotely “feminist” out of fear that supporting it will suddenly doom them to marry a girl who doesn’t shave her armpits.  Disgraceful.

With the second wave of feminism (aka the 60’s) a number of female scifi authors came out of the woodwork. Notable among them being Ursula K. Le Guin who is usually the first and sadly only name people provide when I mention female scifi writers.  As for me, the first scifi work I encountered in my youth that made me think about this topic was Margaret Atwood’s “A Handmaid’s Tale”.  If you aren’t familiar with the work it is about a dystopian future where a fascist and religiously dominant government has suspended the constitution following a terrorist attack.  In this world women have been stripped of any rights and are regulated to various roles in society; racism and homophobia also rampant.  The protagonist of the story is in the ranks of the Handmaids who function as concubines and whose sole purpose is to provide a womb for breeding; women reduced to literally the very thing that define their sex.  Other roles women play are wives, daughters, “Marthas” aka compliant infertile women and the Aunts who train the handmaids.  Infertile or troublesome women get branded as “unwomen.”

While this certainly sounds like a feminist manifesto, it should be noted that the book explores a variety of other oppressions enacted by this government for religious and racial reasons.  Heck even the men are just as regulated as the women; assigned various roles within the military structure of the government but it is only the higher ranking classes that are permitted to breed and obtain a handmaid.  As for the rest?  No sex.  Not even masturbation.  I particularly remember reading the part about underwear designed to prevent nocturnal emissions and thinking that this world is just as criminal to men as it is to women.  Gay men, as another example, are gender traitors and sent to death camps.

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I’d like to think that today we don’t have this problem anymore or that it’s at least diminishing, but well…when I was thinking about this blog I decided to go find a copy of this book.  I popped into a used bookstore on the street after yoga, ran up to the scifi section and discovered no listing for Atwood at all.  With a heavy sigh I trudged up to the “Fiction-Literature” area and sure enough there it was.  I went to check out and this was the exchange that followed:

Me: Glad you had this, I went looking in the scifi section first and couldn’t find it.

Counter: Well that’s because it’s not scifi.

Me: Uhh…well actually it is, I mean it’s soft scifi* but it’s definitely always been in that category from what I know.

Counter: it’s feminist lit.  It can’t be scifi.

And it was a girl behind the counter too.  Apparently feminism and scifi are incompatible.  So much for forward thinking but hardly that surprising.  I still get strange looks from most people who discover my love of the genre.  Strides have been made over the years but aliens and wormholes are still apparently a “boy thing” in the eyes of most.  I personally feel that more strides have been made in film and tv to promote the female empowerment of the geek world and it saddens me that books seem to lag behind which is why I’m so excited when I do find a thoughtful and geeky lady writer.  There is a need, especially in our youth, to identify and learn about ourselves.  That’s part of why people will seek out specific racial, cultural or gender groups and socialize within them.  We want to understand ourselves and while Joss Whedon comes pretty damn close, ultimately I’ll still learn more about being a woman from another woman.  That’s why it’s important to have these talks still and why you can’t ever be completely “color blind” in life.  So I hope more women writers are picking up the call and defying convention and I really hope that they drop the stupid initial-last name convention because while 5 boys might pass over your book, there will be one little girl who might finally pick it up.

IMG_2931

*Some people will claim it’s not scifi or only loosely scifi because it is about a dystopian future.  Funny that I don’t hear people rejecting 1984 or Fahrenheit 451 nearly as often on those grounds.  Now for those of you that would, look we can talk about this another time and I’ll school you on the history of the genre, also known as speculative fiction, and please stop trying to invalidate these books just because you happen to prefer hard-scifi which is a subgenre okay?

Oh right, I still have a recipe to share!  Well as you ponder this topic, why not bake up a lovely quiche for dinner.  Why a Quiche for today’s post?  It’s a largely egg based dish and since I’m thinking about ovaries and baby-mamas I immediately jumped to the ovary connection.  I’m weird.  Accept it.

Scifi Mys-Quiche

An Olivia Original – I made several mini-quiche but this recipe will make one large 9” pie Read more

Feb 28

Squash you with a smart ass re-Tortilla Soup

squashtortillasoup (14)Looks like my hubris finally caught up to me and I am sick as a damn dog.  It was only a matter of time really.  I have been literally attacked by bugs on every front.  My roommate was sick, my coworkers were sick, friends or friends of friends were sick….  You get the picture.  Plus I’m still not convinced it wasn’t the little kid who sneezed on me at the grocery store.  Her mother didn’t say a damn thing about covering your mouth when you do that and I was not amused.  I politely told the little girl, and I’m good with kids so it was not in a critical tone I swear—I’m freaking Mary Poppins okay, and not in her terrifying mode—but the mother shot me a nasty look for it.  Ugh.  Parents learn to parent please.  Oh and I take public transit which is germ-a-palooza even when it isn’t flu season.  Basically riding BART is like plunging yourself into an overrun petri dish of disease but I love how useful it is for getting to work.

squashtortillasoup (15)Stop me if I get to ranty but there is one very big downside I have found to using BART aside from the fact that it’s a fertile breeding ground for a zombie outbreak.  I love it because I get to read rather than fight traffic and thus keep my blood pressure low.  I hate it because instead of horns and harried drivers bothering me, instead I am subjected to an even worse crime of transit.  A question: a simple, and probably to some people, unassuming question.

“What are you reading?”

ARGH.

I hate that question.  I hate it with a passion.  You know why?  Anyone who genuinely loves books is not going to ask a stranger who is in the middle of reading, what they are reading.  Why?  Well two reasons: 1) this insolent intruder, were he a true bibliophile, would know how disruptive it is to be interrupted and removed from the world you are currently immersed in and 2) this interrupting interloper would simply READ the title of the book you are holding.   Aha!  But what if you are using an e-reader?  Then rule number 2 doesn’t apply.  Okay smart ass, you’re right it doesn’t, but you know what I’ve noticed?  No one asks me what I’m reading when I have an e-reader open.  It’s almost like if I’m using a Kindle then clearly it’s serious business but if I go low-tech, really I’m just hoping that this bundle of carbon printed words will serve as a prop for some super suave man to pick me up with his oh too original line: so what are you reading?squashtortillasoup (16)

Listen bub, my book is not a prop.  I’m actually reading it.  See before Kindle came out we had to buy the actual physical books.  I happen to own a lot of them, many still unread because I am constantly outpacing myself with what I can read versus what I discover I want to read.  I’m not about to suddenly re-buy all of them just so I can use an e-reader for everything.  In fact several books are still much cheaper to buy in their physical form rather than electronic and I am ultimately ruled by money when it comes to my consumerist tendencies.

squashtortillasoup (3)Anyway it’s always men who interrupt me and it’s always with the intent on their part to start a discussion with me.  Usually I respond with a smart ass quip that makes them stop but occasionally that gets taken as an invitation to continue to harass me.  Why?  Why?  I know I’m not the only woman to get this either—and men who read you’ve probably been interrupted too at some point.  How do you deal with it?  What do you say?  I actually think it could be fun to keep a list of responses to this question that plagues bookworms across the globe so leave any you have in the comments.  The one I most remember enjoying in my sadist way was when an older man on the train had been attempting to talk to a number of ladies around me.  When his attentions turned to me and I heard the inevitable question “So whatcha reading” I lowered my book, which was blatantly displayed in such a way that you couldn’t possibly miss the title, and I put on feigned shock.  “Oh my god, I’m reading?  How did that happen?”  Then I closed it got up and walked to the back of the train.  I know I shouldn’t be bitchy to a stranger but I just wanted to get away so I did my best to squash his attention with a smart ass retort.

And now back to bed.  I’m probably going to miss work tomorrow because this sinus infection is not looking promising.  I’ll be brewing up some Jewish Penicillin to get myself healthy but I’ve had this soup on hand in the past as well and it’s pretty delicious with some heat to clear those nasal passages.  Ideally you shouldn’t eat dairy either when you’re sick but sometimes you need something a little comforting and all things considered, this soup isn’t excessively cheesy.  It does satisfy that desire for comfort though because it tastes like a big bowl of nachos.  A warm, soothing bowl of nachos.  Mmmmm.

Butternut Squash Tortilla Soup

Adapted from The New England Soup Factory Cookbook Read more

Feb 14

3 Comments

My Bloody Valentine

Alright it’s Valentine ’s Day and the inevitable talk about relationships, being single etc etc has come round.  Sure enough I have a number of people who have asked me about my “dating life” as the holiday approached and to all of them I say “nope, not dating and I’m good with that.”  As usual some people don’t believe me.  Some people try to convince me I’m wrong.  Some people warn me that time is a ticking away.  Some people tell me I’m being silly when I say I don’t have the time for a relationship.  Some people think I’m in some lonely girl denial when I say I’m happy on my own.

But the truth of it is: I AM sincerely happy on my own.  I AM too busy for dating.  I AM too involved in my own plans, thoughts, needs, dreams, desires to be able to expend energy on someone else’s plans, thoughts, needs, dreams and desires.   There is no case of “doth protest too much” when I say these things.  I am however getting really damn sick and tired of saying them.  I am getting really annoyed by the shocked “you aren’t dating someone?” when my response to the inquiry about my Valentine ’s Day plans is that I’m spending them with my mom.  Especially since even if I were dating I’d be spending the day with my mom.  Valentine’s Day has always kind of been more about mommy/daughter time over the years and when I think of the holiday that is what I associate with it.

I’m not going to rant about it being a Hallmark card holiday like some bitter old cat lady.  True it’s kind of frivolous and silly but a day about celebrating love—no I’m not going to object to that like some sour cherry on the fruit stand.  I think it’s a perfectly wonderful excuse to celebrate if you happen to be with a special someone and regardless of the origins of the holiday, the point is that it’s a day set aside each year to make you slow down and reconnect with your lover.  The restaurants might have crazy markups and the expectation that you shower the object of your affection with gifts—those aren’t things I’m crazy about.  However that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to have one day a year that serves as a placeholder where you push aside work, stress, trivialities and try to remember to spend time with a cherished loved one.

Okay so has that demonstrated that I’m not just a bag of mostly-water with a dusty vagina?  Can I rant now about how ANNOYING it is to be confronted by people who think it’s absurd that I’m happy in a single state?  It ain’t that strange folks.  I was in a relationship at this time a year ago and looking back on it, I’m in a much happier and balanced place now than I was then.  Coupledom does not automatically confer upon its participants a golden ticket to the chocolate factory.

Admittedly part of this is that I burnt out on my last relationship.  I gave a lot of myself and got very little in return.  I was trying to remember what I did for Valentine’s Day last year and to be honest…I can’t remember.  I remember what I baked and I remember that because of the distance and my job I wasn’t able to spend the actual day with the ex-boyfriend anyway.  I remember secretly hoping he’d have the kind of initiative to send me something at work or at home, because like all women what I really wanted was some sign that he went out of his way to let me know I mattered even if it was something as simple as a postcard in the mail with the words “I love you.”  I let it go since we were going to celebrate the following weekend but if I’m remembering correctly, and I may have blocked some of this out or be mis-remembering because to be honest I still don’t want to think about the unbalanced energy I spent on my last relationship, but if I’m remembering correctly I got mostly misplaced for a Magic the Gathering tournament that weekend.  But I don’t blame my ex for any sort of burn out I have experienced.  The truth is that I knew almost the entire time I was in that relationship that I gave more than I got, and I kept doing it the whole time knowing better.  “I give myself such very good advice…but I very seldom follow it.”

It’s kind of a relief for me right now to be able to be completely selfish and focus on what I want.  Like completing a 30 day yoga challenge (which I’ve almost made it through!!) or to work late and not have to worry that I’m short-changing a boyfriend when I do so.  I’m going to be taking some classes again soon, training for my first 10k as well, and so to be honest, the idea of having someone to care about is just exhausting.  The mere thought of it makes me tired.  When I do, or rather if I do, because I’m still not sure I’ll ever get sick of this bachelorette lifestyle, start dating again I have decided I will settle for nothing less than perfect.  Now if cupid wants to plop Joseph Gordon Levitt on my doorstep today, I’ll eat my words here today, but since I don’t see that happening anytime soon I’ll eat this tangy blood orange tart instead.

 

Blood Orange Tart

Modified from Dorie Greenspan’s Orange Tart recipe in “Baking from my home to yours” Read more

Feb 11

1 Comment

Muffin Monday: Just an orangery old coot….

Deep down inside I think I’m really just an 80 year old man.  With man boobs.  Aw man. **anyone know what I’m quoting?**  I seem to be a cranky old sailor (despite my penchant for sundresses and floppy hats), ready to complain about kids hover-boarding on my lawn and I’m not even 25 yet.  People love to say I have an old soul but sometimes I wonder if that means I’m all withered up like a prune in the “fun” centers of my brain.  Then again I know of other 20 somethings who feel like they had more in common with Mr. Wilson than Dennis so maybe this isn’t so rare after all?  My friend Brian likes to poke fun at my willingness to “rage” on the internet but couldn’t that be simultaneously a symptom of immaturity as well as a lack of youthful spirit?  I prefer to think of it as righteous indignation—because that has the word right in it so clearly I must be correct yes?  Maybe righteous indignation coupled with wisdom, passion and a flawed but ultimately belligerently adorable ornery Olivia state of mind?

Ornery Olivia–she comes out when I’m tired or cranky—not that unusual I think for someone to be a little bit on edge and snappish when stressed.  The bigger issue then maybe is that I’m stressed too often and need to learn to “let it go” as it were.  “Raging” or ranting can release the frustration I feel but sometimes it just leaves me feeling worse off than before—agitated primarily at myself for getting so, well, agitated.  I just don’t know how to not be a smart ass sometimes.  I was contemplating this the other day after leaving my yoga studio.  I just got out of a particularly challenging Bikram session that left me physically drained but very happy with my practice when a young white bald man approaches me.

“Hare Krishna” he says.  I smile and nod as the social expectations dictate even though I didn’t ASK to be approached on the street by a stranger with a greeting.  My phone is in my hands and I’m trying to make sure that I don’t have any missed important messages regarding a brunch I was planning the next day.

“Can you say Hare Krishna?” the man is speaking to me like a child who doesn’t know her words.  Apparently my normally socially acceptable smile and nod was insufficient for this individual who wishes to engage me in his practice.  Ornery Olivia is tired and rears her head, which ironically provides me with a surge of energy.

“Do I have the powers of speech?  Yes I do.”

“Well are you going to say it?”  I roll my eyes.

“Thank you goodbye” my attention turned back to my phone and I shift my bag ready to walk away.

“Do you know what Hare Krishna means?” I am asked.

“Yes thank you goodbye”

“Well then what does it mean?”

“It means I’m about to punch you in the throat if you don’t leave me alone.”  Okay I admit this last bit was a thought bubble and not what came out.  I’m ornery but not generally violent, at least not toward total strangers even if they are being obnoxious.

“I don’t speak on command like a pet.  Now thank you and GOODBYE.”

“Well maybe you’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Not if I see you first.” and then I turned and walked away.

I know I didn’t need to engage but sometimes my mouth just gets away from me.  Still I just HATE being stopped on the street by total strangers.  Pan-handlers are bad enough but at least I understand the begging.  I get far more annoyed by petitioners, especially ones who dress themselves up to look like city officials, who do their best to make you feel guilty for having places to go.  What’s more I don’t find it particularly safe to just stop on the street whenever any person wants to ask you something.  It’s a city mentality I suppose, a crotchety one, but I didn’t grow up in Mayberry and I don’t think it’s wise to assume that people have benign intentions.

Then there is the other side of me.  The shiny, Kaylee, bubbly sundress wearing, parasol twirling little girl who sees the world with Vanellope Sweet-candy eyes.

I guess I confuse even myself.

Anyway after a day of being the old lady version of myself I decided to embrace some sunshiney weather with equally sunshiney orange muffins.  I turned Ornery Olivia into Orangey Olivia.

See, see what I did there?

I loved the flavor in these but not so much the texture.  I tried out a recipe from a cookbook I rarely use (because I own too many cookbooks and am trying to branch out from Dorie) and was immediately suspicious of this being too cake like.  Sure enough they were very cakey and as a result they really were only good day of baking.  I put them out for a brunch on Sunday (made them Saturday) and found that the muffins were probably the least popular thing on the table…but they sure brightened it up with their chipper appearance.  Also don’t tell anyone but they actually got a nutrition boost from my own addition to the recipe: flax meal.

Ornery Orange Muffins

Modified from “The Buttercup Bake Shop Cookbook” Read more

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