It's been a while...

It's been a while since I've had the chance to get on here. And I don't really have the time right now but I'm doing it anyway just to remind myself that I have this place to write. Finally having a full-time job is wonderful but it's already much harder than I anticipated. It's taking a toll on fiance and I since now we REALLY don't get to see much of each other. Oh well. Its time for me to go already since I just remembered I have to not only drop off the rent check but also get gas in my car. yay. I'll hopefully get back on here soon to write about our NYC trip a couple of weekends ago. That one will be funny. Promise. :)

The Future is Uncertain

Unfortunately, this isn't going to be one of the funny life story blogs. This one is a bit more philosophical and, honestly, I'm writing it to get the words out of my head. I have no idea what I want to do in the future. I want to teach. I want to learn. I want to edit. I want to write. I want to act. I want to collaborate. I want to create. And I have no idea how to do all of that without sacrificing anything else. Fiance has his plan set out and is making the steps forward every day. I, on the other hand, am a little worse for wear. I went to school because I have a passion for literature and theatre. I don't want to compromise my passions just to have a job that pays the bills. Yet here I am. Doing just that. I know it is hard to find a job that will both pay well AND be a career rather than a day job, but that is what I want. Maybe I'm still too young and jaded for thinking that that is possible. I'm not sure. But I would give just about anything for that to happen. I don't want to be another cog in the machine. I want to be great. I keep getting told that I'm too naive in my plans to become a teacher. But I mean it when I say that I want to teach. I want to give this gift to students who may not have ever known it existed. I want them to have dreams. And I don't want to take those dreams away from them. I want to push them to discover themselves in ways that I was not pushed. I know that we all have times where we're simply flailing around without anything to grab onto. I know that life rarely turns out exactly the way we wish it to. But here I am, hoping and wishing that it will be different for fiance and I. That we will make it through without compromising. That we will attain all those dreams. I'm too optimistic to admit that things may not turn out the way we want it to. And I'm honestly afraid of that moment when I will be forced to admit that there is no happy ending as far as my dream career is concerned.

Anxiety

Grips me in her cold talons once more
Stealing the breath from my lungs
My heart beats down the doors of its cage of bones
Feeling the darkness
Loving the darkness
Knowing the darkness
Much better than knowing my thoughts
Every inch of me is moving
Yet I'm still folded up in this chair
Waiting for the darkness to envelop or move on
Shaking apart from the inside out
Wishing her grip would tighten
And tighten
And tighten
Until the talons break.

Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light

Today is the anniversary of the death of John Milton. If you don't know who John Milton is, then just go ahead and stop reading. Or continue. That's fine too. Milton and his little attempt at an epic poem, also known as Paradise Lost, was the bane of my existence during my final semester of my undergrad career. I sometimes think to myself, what would have happened if no one wanted to write down what he was saying? Is Milton really the author if he never actually WROTE anything? Why don't any of the scribes get notice? After all, they had to sit around and write down everything this old blind fellow decided to say. And that does not seem like a good time for anyone if you ask me.
Nonetheless, today is the anniversary of said blind man's death. He wrote an interesting piece of literature that I still wouldn't consider to be an "epic" as it is lacking some of the conventions necessary to be called such. Yet, it is a poem that I would suggest reading- just don't over analyze it. Take it at face value and enjoy the easy to quote lines. Use them in every day conversations to confuse people. Lord knows I do. And remember, that Milton may have "written" it, but he never saw a damn word of it.

How Willow Smith Almost Burned My Apartment Down

After picking up fiance from school last night we decided we wanted to cook up some of the nice fillets that we had in the freezer. They were a gift from my parents when they came down and took me on a crazy grocery shopping excursion so we wanted to make sure that they were extra tasty. As fiance usually does the hardcore cooking, I decided that I wanted to learn. I season them up and place them in the skillet without any problems. Flip them a couple times and they're looking scrumptious. Then something fiance says reminds me that I wanted to show him Willow Smith's performance of Whip My Hair on Ellen. After checking the fillets I proceed to my computer and bring up said performance on the ol' tube of you. We sit around the table and watch the video of a 10 year old wanna-be-Rihanna and commence commenting on it. Lost in the catchy-ness of this performance, I completely forget about the steaks in the skillet... on the stove... the gas stove with fire underneath the burner. I realize that there is a slight haze around the computer and my mind goes through a couple of interesting steps.
"Why is it so hazy? Am I imagining things? Is Willow Smith magical enough to blur my vision? Oh shit. There are STEAKS ON THE STOVE!"
I then run to the stove and pull the skillet off of the burner. Now I have never owned a gas stove until this one and when you quickly add a gust of air to an open flame, it flares up.
NOT AWARE OF THIS UNTIL NOW.
After spewing a stream of curses that I wasn't aware of existing, I shoved the skillet back on the burner (rather than turning it off... which would have been the intelligent thing to do). At about this time, our fire detector decides to add it's two cents to the conversation, beeping its annoying little beep as loudly and obnoxiously as it can muster. Fiance grabs a towel and starts fanning the air beneath it to try to get it to stop its incessant noise-making so that the fire department won't make an unscheduled visit to our quiet apartment complex.
Meanwhile I am peeling the slightly charred fillets out of the skillet. Then I get an even more BRILLIANT idea. I'm going to make a red wine pan sauce that will taste delicious and help us to forget this whole fiasco! So I pour some red wine into the coal brisket covered bottom of the skillet with a spoonful of butter.
This is what is known as a bad idea.
Fiance had just gotten the detector to shut up when I did this. Which caused a wall of steam and smoke to erupt from the skillet and smack me in the face for my idiocy. At this point I run away from the stove like it's going to attack me with nun-chucks or something and tell fiance that I'll fan the detector if he fixes my mess. I then grab the towel from his hands while simultaneously shoving the spoon used to dip out the butter into his confused and open palm. I make it to the detector seconds after it decides to begin chirping once more. Fiance fixes the pan sauce and pours it down the sink for tasting/looking like poo water then opens all the windows to try to remove the haze of smoke that somehow managed to fill up our entire apartment.
And that is how Willow Smith almost burned down my apartment.