freezer pains

The other day I noticed my freezer wasn't freezing as well as it should. Thinking it was a minor problem, I cleaned things out a bit and hoped for the best. I checked it the next day and things seemed to still be frozen. However, 24 hours later, I once again had slushy chocolate creamies. I called the super and left a message explaining the problem and asked him to call me back. Several hours passed and so I called again. He told me that he would call the repair place and then ring me later. Night came and went and still no call. I called him back and he relayed the following: They hadn't called him back so he would call the Landlord as soon as he hung up with me. Somehow, I don't think he was as worried about rotting food as I was.

I went to work and surveyed a few co-workers about the life span of my food residing in the freezer. The consensus was that if I kept it shut and if things were still frozen it might be ok until the repairman comes.

Two more days passed and I have since relieved the freezer of its contents. Hundreds of dollars worth of food, gone. (Yes, hundreds of dollars...I live in the most expensive city in the world.) I went to bed upset.

Now Friday is upon us and I am still lacking a freezer. I called early this morning with the intention of whipping out some New York attitude. I was supposed to have received a phone call. I first called the Super, then the Landlord, then the repair company. For some reason, that I still can't explain, I didn't have the guts to pull out the attitude. Instead I was polite and understanding. What is wrong with me?

Obviously, I have been thinking about this all day long and came up with the following two options:

1) I didn't want to create problems with my landlord as I am hoping for a particular favor in the near future.

OR

2) It was pointless. Customer service in New York City essentially doesn't exist. And the little that does is a joke. If you are unhappy with a business and never patronize them again, it doesn't matter. There is another fool right behind you that will take your place. There will be no repercussions, no changes made, just more angst for me.

So, here I am, Friday night, still no freezer until tomorrow morning and complaining and mourning the loss of my ice cream and resenting my building more than ever. Oh the pain...

oh harry!

There used to be only one Harry in my life--Harry Connick, Jr. Ah, dreamy on the inside and out. That man makes such beautiful music and has such a sexy voice that I swoon every time he croons. No joke! But alas, my heart has made room for another Harry--Harry Potter. Granted, my fascination with Harry Potter and friends is nothing like that of my jazz musician, but there is affection still the same....maybe obsession is more accurate.

I remember when Harry Potter first came out. It was all the craze and for some reason, just to be different, I decided I would have no part in it. I didn't read the book. I didn't read the next one either and was perfectly happy with my decision. Then, right before the publication of the third book, my good friend, Brock, invited me to see the first movie on opening night. I agreed despite my stubborn streak. Little did I know that my life would soon change forever with the release of the first Harry Potter movie...Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I was mesmorized by this fictional world that was unraveling before my eyes and amused by the thoughtful detail put into every storyline. It was love at first sight. I went out and bought the first book that very night.

Since that fateful evening, I have consumed each book in approximately two days immediately after it was published and have watched each movie dozens of times. I have daydreamed about possessing the ability to turn back time, the power to render my nemeses (yes, that's plural) utterly helpless, and the thrill of the elements obeying my every command. These books have whisked me away into a brilliant, magical world and I've enjoyed every minute of it. I have become one of millions obsessed with J.K. Rowling's most famous creation.

And now we are at the end of the series. As usual, I devoured the book--759 pages in all--in just a couple of days. But at the same time, I found myself not wanting to finish it as quickly as the others. I didn't want the story or my little fantasy world to end. Harry Potter was 10 years in the making and I was finishing his "final chapter". And so, I read and savored each word. I marvelled at the author's ability to fill in the gaps, tie up loose ends, and explain complex mysteries of Horcruxes, wands, and shady pasts. I was shocked at certain deaths, cried at others, and was touched at how things ended. For some silly reason, despite the happy ending, I was sad to leave it, sad that there wouldn't be another book to "take me away", sad to not be a part of his life anymore. Harry Potter's story had come to a close whether I liked it or not. And yet, I am satisfied with the adventure. It was a good ride while it lasted and the "boy who lived", though story complete, will continue to live in my library for years and years to come.

drink no liquor, and they eat but a very little meat...

I'm not the vegetarian type. Don't get me wrong. I love vegetables--all kinds, all of the time--cooked, raw, steamed, mixed into a medley of sorts; it doesn't matter, I love it all. However, I have also been a fan of meat and have pretty much had the mindset that a meal wasn't complete without some source of "hearty" protein (lentils and legumes just didn't cut it). And yet, I have also been a bit squeamish around the stuff. If I start to think about where the meat came from and how the poor animals died, I can't really stomach the stuff. I've been like this my whole life and have tinkered with the idea of giving it up completely, but I like it just enough to not be able to banish it from my kitchen/table forever. In addition to my fair weather affair with meat, I also have some pretty strict rules concerning the consumption of animal flesh that make it hard for me to continue with this meaty relationship:

1) I don't want to see it in its whole form--dead or alive--ever.

2) I will not eat meat/poultry outside of the following: chicken, pork, been, turkey. Anything other living creature is safe and will never end up on my table.

3) Despite my love to cook, I don't like to touch meat and will go to great lengths to keep it that way.

4) WELL DONE. Must be completely well done. Burnt offerings are better than even the slightest hint of pink.

5) No chunks of fat. I don't care if it adds flavor.

But recently, despite my previous addiction-like need for the stuff, I have been thinking twice more often than I would like. And I wonder, "Do I want to become vegetarian?" The catalyst for this drastic thinking came the other night when I went to dinner with a friend. She was craving lobster. How anyone can crave that is beyond me, but she was. We walked into the restaurant and there they were, front and center...little lobsters crawling over each other not knowing that soon one of their buddies would come up missing. Already I was starting to feel queasy.

We were promptly seated and were handed gargantuan menus. This was a Spanish/Chinese place and so there were basically two complete menus to choose from. I choose lemon chicken, my friend the lobster. A few minutes later we were deep in conversation when the waiter appeared out of nowhere with a large bowl and a squirming lobster. He shoved it in our faces, at least it seemed as if he did, for my friend's nod of approval. I was completely caught of guard and the whole scene reminded me of when I was little. Bratty boys teasing girls with live rodents or reptiles. Ewww. Even thinking about it now makes me shiver. As the waiter walked away, I couldn't help but think of the poor animal and its pending fate.

Eventually our waiter came back with our food. Mine was simple enough, but hers came with cracking and scooping utensils, extra napkins and a sizzling platter. The lobster was plated atop a mound of crackling garlic so the smell was overwhelming. And then it began--the cracking, the twisting, the digging, the gutting, the sucking, the chomping, the chewing, the smacking. Somehow it didn't look as graceful as it did in the movies and all I could think about is how she was ripping this animal apart to feed on its flesh.

I spent the entire evening looking at my food or her forehead so that I wouldn't have to see the massacre before me. I tried my best to eat my meal, but found that the rice and the lemon wedges were my favorite part. I finished well before she and silently prayed that she would get full or eat faster. Neither happened and so I sat there, chatting, avoiding eye contact with the lobster head (minus the brain and flesh), and sipping my Coke until she was through.

Anyway, it has been about two weeks now, and I think that I may have had meat twice. The thing is, I think that I am OK with that. I'm excited to look for alternate sources of protein and excited to create new medleys of vegetable dishes. I don't know how long this will last...perhaps only the summer...but we shall see.

the legend

I'm a tad bit upset with Blogger right now. I tried editing my last post and as a result my beloved video disappeared. I have tried everything I can think of to restore the video to it's original post, but have failed miserably.

SO, this video goes with the posting below...

can i get a little patriotism?

I have always been a little sensitive when it comes to being patriotic. Simply put, I love America. I am grateful for the freedoms that we have, the opportunities that are ours because we live here. I am grateful for those that have sacrificed their time and even their very lives to preserve these freedoms. I feel very blessed to live here. I am unsure, however, what prompted such national pride. I don’t ever remember being preached to about the greatness of our country. It was just something that always was, I suppose.

To prove my point: I was the kindergartener who had tears in her eyes when we recited the Pledge of Allegiance, the 3rd grader who glared at those who disrespected the flag. I was the 5th who got choked up when we all sang, “God Bless the USA” for the school assembly. I was the first to rise when the colors were being posted and the last to sit when it was done, somehow thinking that this was directly correlated to the amount of Patriotism one had. I remember during the Gulf War an All-Star performance of an original song entitled, “Stand Tall, Stand Proud” during some program honoring the soldiers over seas. I remember standing in the hall, refusing to come into the living room to watch the program with my mother because I didn’t want her to see the tears streaming down my face. I remember being asked to sing the National Anthem at a high school basketball game and thinking it to be such a privilege because it was not only our country’s National Anthem, but also one of my most favorite songs. And finally, I remember this very performance of the National Anthem in 199--ultimate diva, Whitney Houston, Super Bowl XXV. I don’t know if it was the beauty and power of her voice, or if it was my patriotism kicking in--probably a combination of both. But this rendition gave me chills. And let me assure you, there were tears. Even now…yeah.

Also for your viewing pleasure:

Faith Hill: http://youtube.com/watch?v=WJI_rlar68M

NSYNC!!! 2002 Winter Olympics in UT: http://youtube.com/watch?v=kxBRMMgo254

forget someone hypnosis

For most of us, when we think of hypnosis, we think of people "letting go" of their inhibitions in a comedy club, or the type of therapy that involves lying on a couch and being hypnotized in order to remember and deal with traumatic events. But what if there was a type of hypnosis, a therapy of sorts, that helped you to actually forget? A hypnosis that not only helps you forget a specific time or event, but one that could actually help you to forget someone. A therapy that could help you forget that this person was ever a part of your life. Would you do it?

It's called "Forget Someone Hypnosis". Creative name, I know. The therapist basically creates an environment where the patient can be put into a deep somnambulistic state of trance. The deeper the trance, the more effective the therapy. The end goal is amnesia or specific memory loss surrounding said person or event. Most therapists and doctors of all sorts would refuse to treat a patient this way. Considered highly unethical, most would suggest trying to work through the issues and reassigning new meaning to these experiences. But what if you don't want to? What if it is too painful? What if you have tried and nothing has worked? What if you just want to forget it ever happened? Forget this person ever happened? What if you just want to be free from the hurt, the worry, and the rejection?

Think about it. How would it be to be free of the sting when you hear this person's name or see their face? How would it be to visit a place or repeat an activity that you two had been to or done before, and not be pained by or brutally nostalgic about it? Even more weird, how would it be to meet this person again and not remember anything that transpired between you two? You wouldn't remember the good times or the bad. You wouldn't hurt every time you saw this person. Would you feel that something was missing? Once upon a time, this person added to and enhanced your life. Now he/she only bring sadness. Would you feel the loss? Or would it be liberating?

Is this treatment unethical? Maybe.

Sanctioned by legitimate health care professionals? Nope.

Dangerous? Probably.

Would I do it? The jury is still out, but I think that I would...and that is sad to me.