BlogOfParadox

In my twenties, I was too busy making a mess of my life to become terribly self-aware. I’ve been thinking about 35, and how I keep getting braver, wilder and gutsier as I age.

I will probably have another one of those Birthday, Observed kind of weekends, because it’s likely that weekend will be swamped. One thing is certain, though: It’s been a little over eleven years since I got my first tattoo. I still love it. When I lived in Atlanta, even on the ferry to Clare Island in Ireland, I would run into people with beautiful art and ask where they got it done, and it was always the same artist (Collette at Holy Mother, FYI.) Driving to Atlanta is really expensive and time consuming, especially considering I’d want to be hanging out with people, not sitting in a tattoo parlor. I’ve been sulky and mopey b/c I’ve had a project planned for a while now, but I just couldn’t find a local artist whose work I really liked.

Enter Erica Flannes. I am completely certain she’s my girl for the next project.

So if you’re the sort of person who was contemplating getting me something for my birthday, even an LJ virtual gift, please consider donating to my SuperRadTattooFund. Not only would you be giving me something I really want, a little bit of you will be with me always.

My 35th birthday is May 2nd.

Filed under: Uncategorized by Deirdra
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Every time you catch yourself complaining about how you’re too busy/tired for a hobby, exercise, volunteering, following a bliss, learning something new… every time you discover yourself begrudging someone for always having time to do the things that they love…

Consider the impact of taking these moments wasted on resentment and ache, and repurposing them for the things that feed your life. What could you accomplish if you gathered up that frustrated energy, and used it to lovingly create spaces for the people and things you love best?

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My lovely friend Trace names her years, and it’s such a lovely practice, I began doing it, too.

Despite my efforts to simplify my life in 2007 (Year of the Cracked Pot/Wabi-Sabi), my intentions blurred. Life got hectic and stressful, and I didn’t take the time to refocus, despite having numerous tools at my disposal. I indulged in unhealthy habits. I clung to outdated relationships and thoughts. I’m a bit disappointed at my efforts, but I remain undaunted.

I’d initially thought I’d name 2008 The Year of the Bonsai, as I was attracted to the imagery of careful, conscious pruning to enhance beauty and direct the tree’s growth. I decided against it, though: regardless of their honed beauty, Bonsai are stunted, high-maintenance, shallow little creations. I believe Niwaki is the term used to describe the same sort of aesthetic restrictions on full-sized trees, but I am 98% ignorant of all things Japanese, and do not presume to know what I’m talking about (if you do, please be sure to chime in!!!)

This year, Matthew and I are setting our sights on large goals: I’m looking to complete an intense and demanding Yoga Teacher Training program. Matthew has started teaching at the kwoon, and is about to test for his second-degree black belt. We’re looking to grow our small business, as well as give our bodies, home and garden some much-needed attention. My 2008 is committed towards conscious pruning, to accentuate the wonder and joy in my life. I will weed away obstacles (Jai, Ganesha!!) and fertilize to maximize my potential.

I might need a weed whacker in these first few months, though… It’s gotten awfully overgrown!

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Victor Sodsook calls this Kwaytiow Sen Yai Phat Phrik Sod Kap See-Eu Wan. I call it dangerously tasty.

WARNING: If you have rivet-goggles, swimmer’s goggles, or any sort of protective eyewear that will spare you the sensation of being maced in the face, I suggest you wear them. I wear German Welder’s goggles:  friends can attest to this. I am totally not kidding.

WARNING: This recipe had a hand in driving an overdue baby to vacate to more roomy, less Capsaicin-drenched quarters within 24 hours of its consumption.

Ingredients

15-30 small Thai chilies. FIFTEEN to THIRTY. I like them at 17-20.
10 cloves garlic (I usually double this, because I am a garlic fiend)
1 package rice noodles: prepared, drained
2 Tbs veg. oil
2 Tbs Thai fish sauce
1 tsp white pepper
3 Tbs sweet black soy (this is the unctuous molasses-based soy)
1 Tbs Oyster sauce
1 1/2 Tbs sugar
1 1/2 cu holy basil leaves, or 3/4 cu each of mint and basil leaves.

Optional but highly recommended
sliced chicken breasts, quorn or cubed med. hard tofu
egg omelet (best with creamy fresh duck eggs)
bamboo shoots

Instructions

PUT ON YOUR GOGGLES.
Pulverize 1 Tb oil, garlic and chilies in food processor together. Heat other Tb oil in med-hot wok while you do this.
Turn on your cooktop vent. Take a deep breath. Dump the chili mixture into your wok and stir vigorously for about 15 seconds. Exhale. Proceed to laugh at anyone not wearing goggles who adamantly refused to leave the room.
Add tofu or Chicken; stir-fry for about a minute.
Add fish sauce.
Add noodles and stir rapidly for another 30 seconds.
Add pepper and sweet black soy. Stir, and marvel at the beautiful mahogany color the soy turns the noodles.
Add Oyster sauce, sugar, bamboo shoots and/or duck omelet; stir-fry for a minute.
Turn off the heat. Stir in the herbs and let them wilt.
Remove goggles.
Serve immediately.

For dessert, I recommend sweetened coconut milk “ice cream” on warm sticky rice, or red grapefruit + orange segments steeped in rosewater syrup.

This dish will give your guests the exciting sensation of a string of firecrackers exploding in their mouths, and then rapidly dropping to a much more bearable level. You take a bite, wince, and then immediately fall victim to the spice’s dangerous wiles. You keep eating. You can’t help yourself.

Filed under: food, recipes by Deirdra
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Edit: In retrospect, I realize I’d rather be talking about The Politics of Dancing. While the video really should have more hair gel and eyeliner than it does, but is still way more fun than nasty comments from Officious Office People.

I’ve been talking about makeup lately on several levels ranging from frivolous, feminist, artifice, other people’s comfort, etc.

I love makeup. I love hair dye.
I have loved makeup since I was in sixth grade and believed you should apply eyeshadow until it resembled the color of the eyeshadow cake itself, just like the new wave girls on MTV. (Sometimes, I still espouse this opinion, but there is a time and place.)

I started getting the hang of makeup when I began performing regularly, and would frequently end up pinning down theatre guys to do their eyeliner. Rrrowwr. Well-applied guyliner still makes my toes curl. LARPing and college honed my makeup skills, and clubbing expanded my skillset.

I don’t wear makeup very often these days: usually lip gloss/lashtint. Every once in a while, I go all out, and I have fun, but I conserve my energy/finger dexterity for more important things.

What annoys me is the melodramatic way people react when I wear makeup now. It’s always an over-enthusiastic, forced ordeal. For all the fuss, you’d think I was trollish without makeup, and a shiny princess transformed by my faerie gothmother MAC. Nearly everyone’s face changes dramatically with good makeup technique, but people gasp like they’ve witnessed some sort of great feat of magic. It really makes me not want to wear it at all, because it feels like their reaction is so strong because they are trying to reward “good” or “acceptable” behavior.

What pushes me over the edge? When a coworker pulls me aside and suggests that since I’m chronically ill, I should wear makeup more often because when I look like I feel poorly, it makes people uncomfortable. This is such grand idiocy. When my shoulders burn, the muscles in my chest are too tight to breathe properly, and it feels like there’s a piece of hot metal bouncing around in my left thigh… the farthest thing from my mind is an acquaintance’s discomfort. I am just trying to get through the day without taking it out on someone else, and why skew anyone’s expectations with artifice?

Filed under: feminism, health by Deirdra
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Why, yes: that is a 211-calorie, poached seckel pear atop an island of ooey dark chocolate, and surrounded by a reduction of its poaching liquid (red wine.)This could very well be the most sophisticated, schmancy sex-ass dessert I’ve ever made, and it was ABSURDLY simple. To prove that haute eats can sometimes be born in less lofty places, next time, I will submerge the pear in a wine-filled coffee mug and poach it in the microwave.

1 wee seckel pear, peeled and cored (3 oz., ~50 calories)
1 square dark chocolate (10g, 56 calories)
5 oz. red wine (~105 calories for a semi-dry red)
(Optional, splenda to sweeten the wine. OF COURSE you may use honey or sugar, but your calorie count will differ.)

Use the smallest pot you have. Steam/poach the pear in wine (depending upon your pan size, you’ll have to swirl the pear to ensure even cooking) This’ll take 5-8 minutes.

Put a dark chocolate square in your serving dish. When the pear is finished cooking, put the steaming pear onto the chocolate square. Don’t fiddle with it.

Reduce the wine by 2/3rds. You can add spices and/or sweetener any time here, to taste. When the wine looks dark and inviting, pour it over the pear and chocolate square.

Give it a few seconds to completely liquify the chocolate before serving. Revel in your success.

In retrospect, I should have turned the plate for maximum suggestive appeal.

Filed under: recipes by Deirdra
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I’d like to take a moment of your Friday to talk about deficit reduction, specifically the Federal Deficit Act of 2005, and how it’s made it difficult to keep college-age and low-income women’s access to health care services, as well as affordable contraception.

So, Deirdra, how does the Federal Deficit Reduction Act of 2005 affect reproductive freedom?

The provisions of the DRA have narrowed the scope of providers who would be eligible to continue to purchase deeply discounted drugs. The bill was intended to remove discounted drug pricing for hospitals that operate for a profit. College clinics were not specifically targeted, and so no one realized they would be affected until afterwards. As a result, brand name prescription prices for campus clinics rose from about the $3 to $10 range per month to the $30 to $50 range.

Most clinics had stockpiles of contraceptives, which allowed them to delay price increases until more recently. However, since January 2007, birth control costs have skyrocketed at university and public health clinics. According to Planned Parenthood’s research, some birth control pill packs have increased in price from $10 to $49 per month at Mississippi State University. Similar increases are soon expected at The University of Mississippi, as well as The University of Southern Mississippi. Nationally, clinics have had to cut staff, hours and services (such as prenatal care, educational programs and even cervical screenings) to try and keep contraceptives affordable for their patients. Unintended pregnancies are on the rise amongst women in their 20s.

The problem is simple: Due to an unintentional error made by Congress, we are facing a national health crisis that affects three million undergraduates and over 850,000 low-income women. Raising a child is hardly cheap, but scores of women are losing their access to reliable birth control because of the DRA’s provisions. When students and low-income families are forced to choose between groceries and contraception, everyone loses.

Fortunately, the solution is also a simple matter: if the Senate clarifies the language of the bill, the changes can be enacted immediately. Some senators have recognized the error and have been working to fix the problem, but the matter would benefit greatly from a huge surge of public support.

Nearly four million women are counting on Congress, and you, to help make birth control affordable.

Ask your senator to fix the birth control pricing problem caused by the Deficit Reduction Act. A small change will protect women’s health, and put birth control back within women’s reach.

Filed under: feminism, health, politics, pro-choice by Deirdra
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I went and bought the ingredients for my tea party this Saturday. I’m having a small scale affair, and that’s going to be so much more fun, because it means I can go SCHMANCY.

(I firmly believe that this menu might be reason enough to live in Mississippi and be my friend.)

Tea Pairings Menu

Kaddo Bourani + Oolong Tea
Cucumber-Strawberry w/Marscapone and.or Rose Petal Jam Sandwiches with “Madge Shelton” tea (pink peppercorn, spearmint, black tea and Tudor Red Rose)
Chai creme brulee
Lavender madelines with Earl Greyer (i’m not sticking to this recipe exactly)
(other desserts furnished by friends, including key lime tarts and “chocolate evilitude”)
Grapefruit/Jasmine sorbet with cold-brewed Jasmine Green tea

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When I think of my country, I think of the men and women who said they’d rather do without their tea, without their luxuries, without their necessities and even their lives if they didn’t have a fair say in the way they were treated. I think of the indictment of a terrible tyrant, and the subsequent declaration that this republic would stand apart from tyranny and religious oppression. I think of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.

That said, we do not have a yellow ribbon on our vehicle, because I am the type of person who would rather send care packages overseas than buy a magnet. I am not the sort of person who plaster the truck or my clothes with the flag like it’s another designer brand.

I registered to vote the morning of my eighteenth birthday. I actively take part in our government as a concerned citizen. But I absolutely disagree with our nation’s current public and foreign policy, and I sat in a bathroom stall at work today and wept for what happened six years ago, and the subsequent mess.

I do not feel the need to prove my patriotism, nor do I feel that putting a sticker on your car dissolves anyone of any further civic duty. I would rather feed a mouth than wave a flag. I love my country, but hold no love for our president or his agenda. You CAN love your country when you’re not very proud of it, just as I know you can love someone who makes maddeningly bad choices.

I am thankful to know so many thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate people who are serving our country in various ways, just as I am thankful to know so many who fully embrace the concept of citizenship. I am just disgusted that those of us who don’t ascribe to a somewhat nationalist sect of patriotism are seen as unpatriotic, or that we have somehow forgotten 9/11.

Filed under: general, politics by Deirdra
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Matthew: This is becoming a trend–we vote, and then we come to the bakery.
Me: Yeah, after voting, we need something to get the bitter taste out of our mouths.

NOTE: If you’re one of those people who just doesn’t vote because you’ll never make a difference, or votes without doing research, or “prefers solely to effect change upon the world with Reiki/etc.,” just go ahead and scroll past. It’s probably best you don’t tell me either, because I am a big ol’ citizen snob, and will most certainly think less of you.

I registered to vote at 8 a.m. on my eighteenth birthday. Before that, I stood in line at the polls with my Mom, and she would always explain her choices, and why we were out in the rain, or spending time in a fire station when it was perfect beach weather. My mom instilled a fierce patriotism in her daughter. She talked about civic duty and civil liberties, and made sure that I knew she deplored our older relatives’ racism. She carefully explained those 1980s Choose Life shirts were not about WHAM!

I am my mother’s daughter: she taught me to do some good, or do some damage if the occasion warranted it.

I know that Georgia was/is often just as crazy as Mississippi is, but honestly, it makes me heartsick that the majority of my choices in our primary were chosen because they didn’t quite piss me off as much as the others. I’m really dreading November, because no matter what, I’m stuck with a governor who makes my skin crawl.

For those of you who regularly vote/participate in activist movements, especially in movements/schools of thought that differ greatly from your current political climate: what do you do when you look at a ballot and it’s filled with Wicked, Worse, and Worst Of All? Do you vote for the least nasty of all bridge trolls? Do you skip voting for that particular office? Do you write-in NONE ACCEPTABLE (which I have done in a particular nasty case of Bigot vs. Shithead)? Do you say screw it, vote for the least repugnant of candidates, and then console yourself in liquor/sugar/self-righteous blog wank?

Well, I guess you know what I do.

P.S. If you’re one of the aforementioned people and still read this, GO REGISTER TO VOTE

Filed under: politics by Deirdra
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