So, this happened:
After 8 years, we’re officially engaged. I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER. ❤
“I’m petrified, okay? I’m scared to death of tomorrow. I don’t welcome the sunrise; if I could hide in the cool evening, make it stretch into forever so that I wouldn’t have to face the unknown, I think I’d do it. I tell myself that I think I would. Do you know how many awful things can befall a person in a day? In less time than it takes to inhale? We may not be indiscriminate, but life is. It doesn’t give a damn who you love, or how beautiful you are, how kind, who needs you, who wants you dead. It can drive you mad just to consider the depths to which you can fall, the heights from which you can be dropped.
I know this makes me a coward. I know it sounds like I’m spitting in the very face of God, of the gift of life. I know that. I feel ashamed of it, this crushing fear, this admission that I don’t believe in my own existence, or trust in my own strength, or purpose, and that I’m constantly confused. Totally baffled, all the time. But I think — I hope — that maybe it means something that I feel like this and I just know I can’t face this world, I can’t, and I get up, every day, go out, and exist anyway.”
In San Francisco! And that has perks beyond “sometimes we provide bagels.”
And I totally feel like Frank right now.
“One likes to think there’s something in it, that old platitude amor vincit omnia. But if I’ve learned one thing in my short sad life, it is that that particular platitude is a lie. Love doesn’t conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool.”
Richard, from Donna Tartt’s The Secret History
I’m not in a somber mood, really, but I do love this quote and am re-reading my favorite book, which it’s from. Mostly I love it because I agree with it, having all my life tried to placate myself with silly bullshit whenever someone’s wronged me. But, at the ripe old age (ha) of twenty-eight, three things are happening: I suddenly can’t stand teenagers; I’m being increasingly confronted by death; and finally, I’m slowly stripping away behaviors and nuances from my personality that I’ve come to hate. It’s like peeling an onion for me, because I am tenacious when it comes to holding on past all reason. And, I have a tendency to defend the weaknesses of others, to turn the spotlight onto my own deficiencies in an effort to distract from those in the people I love. It’s exhausting and I don’t want to do it anymore.
Today is not a bad day. This is just a really good book, and one that reminds of the many things I want to be and more than that, the very, very many things I don’t.
I was going to make a page on this site just for recipes that I accidentally create and don’t want to forget, but that’s not possible, IS IT, WORDPRESS? So instead, there will just be random food-related posts in between my crass ramblings about cats and traffic and books. First up…
Homemade Marinara/ Pasta Sauce/ Pizza Sauce
1 cup tomato sauce
4 ripe tomatoes on-the-vine
1/2 a white onion
1 large, ripe heirloom tomato
1 bunch of fresh basil
8-10 cloves of garlic
Salt & pepper to taste
Wash the veggies and cut off the stems.
Quarter the tomatoes.
Peel the garlic.
Pour 1.5 cups of olive oil plus the tomato sauce into a blender; toss in the veggies & garlic and blend on the lowest setting (mine is “crushed ice”) for about 30 seconds.
Add salt and pepper while gradually blending on the puree setting until you reach the desired consistency and flavor.
If the garlic or salt is too strong, add a teaspoon of sugar and re-blend. This recipe makes about six cups of sauce.
Tip: Because of the fresh garlic, it’s best to use this sauce in something that’s going to be cooked (pizza, lasagna, baked pasta). To cook out the garlic before using the sauce, pour it into a sauce pan and cook over medium heat for ten minutes, stirring consistently so it doesn’t burn or stick. Seal the sauce in mason jars and refrigerate.
I gave a jar of this to a friend, who used it for pizza–even her 3-year-old liked it, which is a major success if you ask me. Toddlers can be picky as shit, you know?
Sometimes I wish it was my sole responsibility to just sit on my couch in my Team Edward shirt and sweatpants, eating cheese and writing until my eyes ached.
If anyone wants to pay me to do this, hit me up.
This is me:
My horoscopes have been telling me for like, two years that a “financial windfall” is imminent. Am I misunderstanding what a windfall is? Is it actually Zodiac code for ‘@$%# you’?
Should probably stop listening to advice that appears on sites boasting 75% off psychic readings and ‘spiritual FAQs’.
In other news: