Cooking Dinner

I am cooking this tonight:

Coquilles St. Jacques a la Provencale

Ingredients
1 ½ pounds scallops (or shrimp) washed
1 ¼ C yellow onions minced (I used white, it was what I had)
6 buttered scallop shells or porcelain or pyrex shell (I skipped this part entirely)
5 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon shallot or green onions minced
1 clove garlic minced
salt and pepper
1 c flour sifted
2/3 c dry white wine (mine wasn't terribly dry, but it worked great)
1 ½ bay leaf
1/8 tsp. thyme
1 ¼ C swiss cheese grated ( Ihad to use Provolone.)


Instructions
Cook yellow onions slowly in 1 T butter in a small sauce pan for 5 minutes, until tender and translucent but not browned. Stir in the shallots or onions, and garlic, and cook slowly for 1 minute more. Set aside.


Dry the scallops (or shrimp) and cut into ¼ inch pieces. Sprinkle with salt and pepper just before cooking, then roll in flour, and shake off excess flour.
Saute the scallops (or shrimp) quickly in very hot butter and oil for 2 minutes to brown them slightly.


Pour the wine into the skillet with the scallops. Add the herbs and the cooked onion mixture. Cover the skillet and simmer for 5 minutes. Then uncover, and if necessary boil down the sauce rapidly for a minute until it is lightly thickened. Correct seasoning, and discard bay leaf.


Spoon the scallops and sauce into the shells. Sprinkle with cheese and dot with 2 T butter cut into pieces. Just before serving, run under a moderately hot broiler for 3 to 4 minutes to heat through, and brown the cheese slightly.

Oh Well

Goldman Sachs called me this morning to inform me that I would be unable to "continue the interview process". I asked if they could tell what influenced their decision, to which they replied "we don't provide any feedback."

So...yeaaah....

The End is Nigh

I am nearing completion of my bachelor's degree. This semester is essentially over, and I have only one class to take next semester. I interviewed yesterday at Goldman Sachs for a two-year, guaranteed 20-hour-a-week internship, perfect for some income and experience while working on a master's program.

*Fingers crossed*

I was the best dressed person there; far and away beyond the other applicants and awkwardly outdoing all four different interviewers. Rocking the solid gray suit, the big red power tie, and a crisp white cotton pocket square.

If only their hiring decisions could be based solely on style and poise...

You Know I'm Not Dead

Now you know where I've been
As you sleep
Torn I am
Weighted down
Patiently
Born of love
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And through it all
Into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
Found below
The creatures scream
Stranglehold
A god machine
Begging to
Tear us out
Worn as hope
You know I'm not dead I'm just the tears inside your head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And through it all into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead

We all want to hold in the everlasting gaze
Enchanted in the rapture of his sentimental sway
But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every c.o.g.
The fickle fascination of an everlasting god
You know I'm not dead

I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
Forever waiting on cruel death
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living for myself
Forever waiting
You know I'm not dead

- "The Everlasting Gaze", by The Smashing Pumpkins, written by Billy Corgan.

Found: Attic Fashion Treasure!

When I was fourteen, my paternal grandfather passed away. I can't say that I knew him particularly well; he wasn't the warmest person. However, I do have many fond memories of him suddenly opening up and sharing a moment of closeness with me, in a restaurant showing me the trick to getting especially viscous ketchup out of the bottle, or helping me straighten out my (clip-on) tie at my Aunt's wedding. Still, I was fairly shaken by his death, as he was the first of my elders to pass, and especially because my dad took it surprisingly hard. We returned from the funeral with a few items that had been handed down to me, most notably my grandfather's Marine Corps Dress Blue blouse and a few articles of clothing.

This morning, for whatever reason, I was compelled to dig in the attic through my old Tucson clothes box, which I hadn't been through since we moved to Salt Lake nearly ten years ago. Lo and behold, I found my inherited clothes! A couple dozen vintage ties, a tan sports coat, and the crown jewel: a navy waistcoat that fits like it was made for me! Huzzah! Waistcoats, or vests, have recently become acceptable again for those willing to take a little chance in their wardrobe, and it will fit perfectly with my old-school style. In fact, I recently purchased a new suit (which I pick up today! Delightful!), which is a very nice mid-gray solid. Wearing the navy waistcoat with this suit will contrast nicely, and add the extra "pop" at functions like a wedding, signaling that I have "dressed up" a little extra, given that I wear suits regularly.

Thanks for everything, Pop-Pop!

VICTORY!

Good morning, world!

I am proud to announce that last night, I took first place in the college's talent show. There were something like 20 contestants, many of whom also sang and played guitar. How did I stand out? There were two things that really set me apart and, I think, helped push me over the top:

1) I played an original song that I wrote, "Melody Maker," which is coincidentally about writing songs! By portraying myself as a songwriter, and then delivering a solid performance of a decent original work, I demonstrated a depth of talent that went beyond those people simply performing another artist's song.

2) I played harmonica along with guitar, true to singer-songwriter form. This really sizzled.

There were many cheers throughout my performance, not just at the end - a first for me. Also, and I didn't realize this until I was done playing, but this was my largest audience yet, easily over 100 people. Now, maybe there have been times out at the People's Market where there have been more people than that within ear-shot, but these people were all there listening intently, and digging it! This is really a huge boost, one that I surely needed right now. Thanks, everyone!

I'm Tired, World

So I literally just woke up from a nightmare about getting mauled by a pack of wolves. What's worse, I don't need to sit and think "whoa, what does that mean", or seek feedback from some tie-dye skirt clad guru. I know exactly why I had this dream; it was the first thought in my head when I woke up.

I've felt lately like the world is just out to get me.

Let's start with school: I feel totally alienated. Almost everyone at my school is young, so god damn young. Fresh out of high school. And they all seem to know each other, and though I am trying, they don't seem to want to get to know me. Now part of this is my fault. I show up in my suits while they're riding their skateboards around campus; I think the disconnect is fairly clear. They're sitting in a group, getting loud and excited about getting drunk at a party, a party that I desperately want to be invited to, when they get quiet upon suddenly noticing me looking sharp, assuming I'm part of the faculty and that they may have just incriminated themselves. Even the career resource center's business department adviser asks me "why are you all dressed up?" Okay, I get it. Like Conor Oberst said to Amy in the White Coat: "you should look more like us."

Now...Better Living has up and completely stopped talking to me; won't take or return my phone calls, hasn't answered my last few emails, and has even started deleting my comments on her blog. You would think that she had dumped me...oh, wait, she did, but that was last NOVEMBER. We managed, with some early turbulence, to maintain a decent (if distant for my tastes, but hey, that's just me, the dump-ee) friendship. I even recently sent her a note to express my thanks for her graciousness, and my gratitude and happiness that we were able to remain friends. Um...was this yet another fucking case of my being too nice? Was she suddenly weirded out because I wrote in the note that I loved her? Hello, as a friend. And also because, in my world, you don't just stop loving people. Okay, so maybe you do stop talking to them (for some reason), but the love is still there - I sure hope that isn't what started this.

Now, I'm not trying to be bitter. I'm actually trying very, very hard to be positive, hopeful, and optimistic. It just gets hard, especially when it feels like the whole world is after me. I hate to be this wounded animal begging for mercy, but please, call off the wolves.