The Countdown

I spent a lot of 2008 counting down. In fact, come to think of it I've spent a lot of my life counting down. When I was younger it was counting down to the end of soccer practice, or to summer camp, or to dinner time. Then it became counting down to my next birthday, to high school, to boyfriends. Not long after that it was to the end of high school, to a year off, to graduation, to freedom. But throughout my entire life as I can remember it, I've spent a decent amount of time counting down. I don't think this is unusual in our culture by any means (after all who of us doesn't count down to the weekend or to the summer?), and I think it's an issue. Which is why I've decided to stop counting down. Or, at least I'm going to try, and I've made it my main New Years resolution. Maybe I've finally learned that all of this is actually temporary and that wishing it would past faster is just not how I want to go through the rest of my life, especially right now. There is too much opportunity in Now to wish it were Then. Does this make sense? I don't know. It does to me, and I hope I can start being more present and knowing that it will all pass faster than I can fathom, so I should enjoy right now. 

On another note, I think my intellectual metabolism has sped up. What? You've never heard of intellectual metabolism? Weird, maybe that's because I just invented it. I like it. Basically I think of it as the rate that my brain is consuming information, and the feeling that no matter how much educational fodder I feed into its chomping mouth, it never seems to be satisfied. My brain is hungry. It's really a cool feeling - like my brain is expanding, like it's seen how vast the world of knowledge is and it won't be satisfied until it devours it all. Sometimes I think my brain is a little over enthusiastic. Maybe bites off more than it can chew? Oh I suppose that's why I take fish oil. So my brain can eat more. Oh my god if people actually let me be a doctor it will be either a miracle or an accident. Maybe they're the same thing.  

So I know my blogging history isn't exactly reliable, but as another New Years goal I'm going to try and blog once a week, whether it's for me or for others, which at this point I think I'm doing it because I enjoy it and want to be writing more, not because anyone's necessarily reading it. Damn those RSS updates. Maybe I'll start editing my entries....or maybe I'll save that for 2010. 

Also: inauguration. Too many words, not enough adjectives to describe my sorry state on Tuesday morning where I found myself splayed on the couch in front of the TV in my floor lounge in my slightly discolored grey old-man sweatpants, shoveling oatmeal into my mouth between occasional tears and clamorous exclamations at a certain GIANT and awesome grey sparkling hat that made quite an appearance on the national stage. Oh Bama. Oh jeez. That guy brings tears to my face. I have a real good feeling about him. 

Anyway, off to do honors chemistry (on a SATURDAY! What's wrong with me?). Eat for your brain!

Kate

Deep Bowls

What do you think of when you hear the words "college food"? Instant mac n' cheese? Ramen noodles? Hot Pockets? Burgers? Pizza? Chances are, it's some combination of cheap white bread, dairy, and low-quality meat, decorated with regular pints of ice cream, half-racks of piss-cheap beer, and lots of chips and candy for "study snacks". At least, this seems to be the dietary schedule of the kids here at Oregon State, and I have a feeling it's not too different from that of other universities around the country. This was emphasized for me the other day when I was in Albertsons (for I believe the first time ever) with a friend and they did their "shopping for the week": a package of bagels, a block of cream cheese, a bag of hot dog buns, and a pack of 8 hot dogs. What more could anyone need?

I meanwhile walked around the endless aisles of pre-packaged food reading one label after another, getting more and more appalled at the things that are allowed to be in our food. The Albertsons employees were giving me very nasty looks indeed by the time I made my way out of there with a single apple in my hand, grumbling about the amount of shit food in their store. Sorry, guys. I get emotional over food. 

Actually, I get really emotional over food. I might even say I get obsessive over food (good food of course) and often wake up in the middle of the night or early in the morning with an idea for a meal in my head, and I'll scramble to write it down before I lose it. Mostly the things I crave are simple: white bean and kale soup, roasted chicken with corn muffins and broiled asparagus, crustless smoked salmon quiche, pupusas, pumpkin teff pancakes with walnuts, roasted chestnuts.

 The last one struck me particularly hard the other day, and I decided that if I couldn't get roasted chestnuts in a little newspaper baggie from the streets of Paris like I did last year (the first time I had ever had them, mind you), I would have to make my own. So I did, and in the process of doing so learned that they are so painfully easy to make (and so effing good) that I might have to be making them all winter! I was very pleased with how they turned out, even in my little dorm kitchen on my electric stove, but peeling them was still a bitch - I hear you have to do it when they're still hot, but I pretty much failed at that part.  

Another one of my recent massive cravings has been purple kale. At the co-op they have GIANT bunches of it for $1.99, so each week I end up with a massive amount of kale that I don't know what to do with. Last week I had a kale, roasted chicken, pumpkin seed, oil and vinegar salad with buttercup squash for lunch. That was delicious. This week I decided to do a little experiment with what I'm calling my "college soup" where I took all the bits of leftovers from my week (a cup or two of jasmine rice, some leftover cooked beans, a handful of baby carrots, green beans, pickled ginger) and threw it all into a pot with large amounts of kale, water and whatever spices I had. I tried to think like Louise when she cooks, and follow the culinary doctrine of "It's done when it's done." Does it taste done? Then it is done. If not, keep cooking. Simple for her at least. If you've ever tasted Louise's cooking, you know that she gets it right every time. I may not have the Louise Touch (a very rare one indeed), but my first souping experiment last night went pretty damn well if I do say so myself. 

While most of the kids in my dorm have stopped asking me "What are you making?" every time they pass me with my complex cooking accoutrement, I still get the occasional curious person. Usually as soon as I say "kale" or "squash" or "quinoa" (that one really gets a lot of good looks) their face turns kind of pale-ish and they nod and walk away. It's really too bad. They're missing out on a lot of good food we have available so close to campus. I find it amazing that in such a developed and rich farming community like Corvallis the dining services import the majority of their food from other places around the US and abroad. It's too bad, cause I can only eat so much purple kale - just imagine if we got the whole campus to eat it! My my, that will be the day. As for now I'll stick with my roasted chestnuts and College kale soup...

On Fiddles

Fiddles make my feet hurt. They make my hands sweat and my legs burn. They really get me going. I've recently had a lot of fiddling in my life suddenly, and it's absolutely amazing. 

Last Tuesday (a week after our new nation, America Jr., was born!) I drove an hour south with my friend Tyler to good 'ole Eugene, Oregun for an Old Crow Medicine Show concert. We stopped by at a friend Colin's house and the three of us sat in the living room talking about Indian art, fermented food, and the glories of Trader Joe's frozen food while we waited for the time to pass so we could walk to the theater. Our conversation was punctuated by shots of whiskey and one bluegrass song after another to get us in the mood before the show. 

We arrived at the Mcdonald theater with just enough time to shove each other through to the front of the crowd just as Ketch Secor started fiddling the first tune. With my Frye boots on and a fair amount of Seagrams in my system (for what would American roots-music be without cheap whiskey?) I was an unstoppable jigging force. I jigged until I could jig no more. I jigged through the slow songs, the fast songs, the super fast songs, and pretty much all the way back to Colin's house at the end of the show. And goddamn it felt good! Just to let go a little bit, to remember how it feels to be a fool and not care what the people around me are thinking - it felt damn good. 

It's really quite therapeutic, in fact I think they should start prescribing "unabashed dancing/jigging" as a remedy for various emotional and psychological problems. I'm obviously ready to be a trusted medical authority...

I've also found that jigging is a great pick-me-up during lonely times in my dorm room when I am faced once again with the startling fact that I live in Corn Valley, OR and that most of the people here think I'm a complete freak for not even wanting to go to frat parties and also not owning a hair-straightener. I mean really, that alone is enough to expel me from the OSU female population.

Lately I've talked with a few people who ask me incredulously: "Well, you're not going to stay there, are you? I mean, you'll probably switch schools, right?"

And my answer is always: "No, I don't think so. I just have to find my people yet." Which at this point I truly believe. The way I see it now the liberal "people-like-me" (we'll call them the Jiggers) are just harder to find in Corvallis, less-obvious than in the pachouli-infested city of Eugene, and much more stubborn than other liberal populations. The Jiggers of Corn Valley will not be driven away by the seemingly endless stream of beef-necked frat boys and workoutaholic makeup-caked girls parading up and down Monroe avenue every Friday and Saturday night, nor will we be frightened away by the assemblage of tail-gaters that take over the entire town every two weeks for "GAME DAY". 

Yes, I do believe there's a Jigger population that's waiting for me here in Corn Valley, and though it may take quite some time for me to discover it, I have a feeling it will be worth the wait. Plus as long as there's enough space for me to jig in my dorm room, I think I'll survive the rest of the year just fine. And by the way, you should ALL check out Old Crow Medicine Show...maybe also invest in a good pair of stompin' boots and a bottle of cheap whiskey if you really want to get in the spirit. I highly recommend it. 

Happy jigging,

Kate

Animal Crackers

     Today, all day, I have felt as if I'm about to jump out of an airplane. It's kind of a low, uncomfortable hum in my gut, but I can't quite tell if it's good or bad; if my stomach is anticipating an endless fall or a successful and ultimately miraculous ride. Is there a parachute on my back or just a big, red, balding republican party, ready to hang on for the ride and watch me, the young enthusiastic democrat fall to my end? Because really, it feels like riding an emotional roller coaster from one minute to the next, red and blue gradually taking over my vision, thoughts of defeat and utter emotional disappointment moving in and out of my head between feelings of absolute joy and excitement at what could happen tomorrow night. It's exhausting. I'm exhausted with it, we're all exhausted with it, and I am so happy (am I?) that tomorrow night it will be over. Or rather, tomorrow night it will hopefully begin. But I'm ready to be done with this election, if only so we can stop checking the polls like they're our own heart monitors, sleep full nights again, and go one day without reading another online article about how McCain really can make a comeback, or how there is just no way Obama can't win. Jesus. If nothing else, it's bad for our health. 

There is too much to say about tomorrow night, so maybe I just won't. I've written this entry about 4 times now and don't have the energy to re-write it all over again. We all know how big this is. If there's anyone who doesn't know, you should call them and let them know that Hellen Keller wants her disabilities back. 

It is pretty amazing to me that we (as a country, as a party, as a strange and troubled group of people) get to gather tomorrow and watch it all go down. I am so excited at what could happen; at what the implications will be if we can do it, and what that will mean for the next step. I think we're ready for it, I really do.

Assuming some of you faceless blog-readers of mine (if there are in fact any remaining) have been feeling this same alternating sense of dread and elation all day, all week, all month, or even all year (a feeling that I envision is somewhat akin to what menopause must feel like...), let me tell you my solution to this pre-election anxiety: reading Groucho Marx letters. Ok,so maybe it's not a solution per se, but it's at least 15 minutes out of my day spent away from polls and red or blue colored articles. I guess I find solace in people who take very little seriously and know unwaveringly that we will continue on, that we are intrepid, and that laughter is a cure for most things, with the possible exception of menopause.

Que viva el azul.

Kate

Leaks

Sitting on the ground peeling garlic in my Carhartt overalls, an October sun casting surprisingly warm evening light over the farm and surrounding Oregon hills, I listened intently as James described his favorite way to butcher a lamb. He used fancy terms like "loin roast", "riblets" and "square cut shoulder", and told us about working in New York with some of the most famous charcutiers and salumists (people who view meat as not only a food source, but as an art, a passion, a religion and a way of life) in the world. He described to us a culinary "school" he attended in Greenwich Village in the 80s where they would concoct a huge feast and sit down for 4 hours with about 20 bottles of wine, 2 whole cooked animals-of-choice, and lots of story telling. Will you blame me if I drop out now? 

I popped a raw clove of garlic in my mouth. 

When I asked James why he stopped being a chef (after working in New York City, San Francisco, Portland, and other culinary hot-spots), he responded that his music career took over. 

"What kind of music do you make?" Asked Betsy, also in Carhartts, also peeling garlic.

"Oh, electronic dance music..." Replied James. I laughed.

So here he is: an electronic-dance-music-making-charcutier-chef-professor-of-soil-sciences-at-Oregon-State-University who happens to be the head of the Organic Growers Club here on campus. And I've only known him for two weeks! What a guy. What a polymath. He's the kind of guy who makes you want to sink your hands into piles of hot, rotting mulch and dig through vole-holes and rotting tomatoes and squirming bugs to plant a single clove of garlic, with the hopes that next summer we'll have beds overflowing with garlic ready to be harvested. Given how the farm seems to be going, they'll have giant, tangled beds of more garlic than they know what to do with. 

Here we have an average Thursday work party at the Organic Growers Club - a very eclectic group of passionate Corvallis people who get together every week and talk about almost anything you could imagine. Last week our discussions surrounded abnormally shaped winter squash, the smell of October, and the multitude of ways in which vegans miss out on most good things in life. (So really our conversations pertain to any and all hippy topics. Fine. Whatever. It's the Organic Growers Club. Give me a goddamned break.) 

But could this really be? Could I have actually found people that I have interests in common with here in the clod-hoppin town of Corn Valley, Oregun? Could there really exist here people who understand me when I talk about lose-leaf tea, my romantic obsession with edible plants and animals, and valuing my health above most other things in life? Surely it can't be true...

I'm still skeptical. As for now I'm listening to a particularly good Ted TV talk on the 6 ways mycelium fungus is going to save the world. 

Dream in a pragmatic way,

Kate 

 

Gathering Leaves

First item of business: to all who may be reading my blog, I apologize. A few days ago I read back upon my previous entry and just about fell asleep halfway through the seemingly endless applesauce rant. Again, I'm sorry. I hope you can understand that given the limited amount of person-to-person contact I have in my every day life here on campus, I sometimes forget about what is and isn't appropriate to whine about (of course my mother would say that nothing in the world is appropriate to whine about, even when I'm bleeding my eyes out and am in excruciating pain. Gotta love her.)

So, on to far more important things. As you can tell, I've finally (after only a year of using this site) figured out how to post photos onto my page, so I hope to start doing that on a regular basis. Please excuse me if they are pretty much all food from here on out, because that's mostly what I think about these days. The picture to the right is my desking area, where I do my desking things like sit and look at the photos on my wall and surf the Ted TV site for new and exciting things to occupy my time with. It really is a fantastic site by the way.

So life here on campus isn't much different than it was a week ago surprisingly. My classes are fine, easy enough right now, though after not being in school for....uh....16 months...heh...I'm definitely getting back into it. Knowing that I'm actually expected to do things and do them well is a change from the past year "off", but a welcome one. One thing I'm gathering very quickly about college (or this one at least) and the curricula here is that you are very much responsible for your own education, and that the text books are ultimately the real teachers. I'm not used to this. In all my previous places of education, the teacher is the expert and the textbook is a prop with an occasionally helpful table or two, but if we don't talk about it in class then it doesn't really pertain to the subject and we won't be tested on it. That's not the case here. Here I am expected to read a chapter a night in my math, chemistry and music books, and expected to learn just from that. Classes are just kind of, clarification and review of the books. Now this is probably because most of my classes are so large, but I still find it kind of silly that I (or the omnipresent bank account in my life that takes care of me...) pay 8,000 dollars a year to read some great textbooks and ask a question or two of a teacher if need be. I can essentially not show up to class except for the mid-term and final, because my entire math, chemistry and music courses are on-line. Worksheets, homework problems and answers, resources, quizzes, study-guides. I really think it's bizarre. But I do like the fact that in such a massive pool of students (most of which appear to have absolutely no idea where they're going or why) I have to take full responsibility for my education, and I truly believe that's one of the most valuable lessons a person can learn, and one that can't be taught. So I really do have to stay on top of my shit, and keep myself in check. Damn. I'm sure going to miss having someone to blame my poor education on. I guess parents are always good for that.

It was great to get home for the weekend, and remember that there is in fact life outside of Corvallis, and that it is a life that I fit nicely into and one in which I have people I relate to and care to spend time with. I'm sure those people are here, I just have yet to find them. Though attending the Organic Growers Club meeting last Thursday was a step in the right (or left as it may be) direction for sure. Maybe even tipping a little far on the hippy scale, but it's great to know there are in fact people who I can talk about the presidential debate with and say "gluten-free" and they actually understand that gluten is not a relative of the Russian prime minister (not that many people on campus know who he is either...). Plus I got to wear my rain boots, get my hands muddy and talk about pickles and why acorn squash is the perfect fall food, so I felt very energized afterward. 

Sunday morning found me sitting in an adirondack chair on my porch with Hanna, eating a veggie scramble, watching that characteristic Portland pre-fall drizzle soak everything including my hands. It was really surprisingly refreshing. I felt a lot of resistance to cold weather at the end of summer, but I had only forgotten how amazing the Northwest fall really is. Austin has been talking about the Vermont fall and how beautiful it is over there, and I can only imagine the colors and smells that must take over that area come October, but I think my fall is perfect for me. It's like when you eat an apple out of the fridge. I've been doing this lately, and it's so enjoyable. There's nothing like a cold apple, especially if it's been in the fridge long enough so that it's still cold when you get to the core. Mmm. Tastes like a Northwest fall. Lordy lordy. I'm just so excited for all the wonderful fall things. Chestnuts, leaves, mushrooms, crafts, squash, bathtubs, fires. Fires have got to be one of my favorite things also. Jeez. Fall is just amazing. If I could cook a season, this would be it. Too bad my kitchen is a shit-hole 65 stories below me. Man, my life is so rough. 

I feel like the fall is coming at a perfect time for me this year. Lots of things have changed over the past month or so, and some pretty significant things have come and gone from my life. I need a good medium for change; for my own personal change, and here it is right outside my window. Adjusting to life without a companion is hard (especially for someone like me who tends to get caught up in the past), and I think the fall will be the perfect thing to help me out. I think this fall and I are going to get along really well. 

And here's a little snippet for you! It's a few lines from the Robert Frost poem "Gathering Leaves" and I like it indeed:

But the mountains I raise

Elude my embrace,

Flowing over my arms

And into my face.

Got beaver?

Apparently the air-circulation system in my refrigerator can't work properly because I've stuffed too much in there, so now there's a permanent puddle of water on the floor of the thing. I mean, it's not hard to fill up a 1.7 cubic-foot fridge, especially when a) it's me, I eat a lot and have a deep and unmoving love for all things edible (with the exception of mollusks), especially cool and fresh things, b) my idiotic diet restricts me from eating in the cafeteria most of the time so I have to cook everything in the kitchen of my dorm building (2 floors down, mind you) and c) 1.7 cubic feet is fucking tiny! I mean really. I think fridges of this size are designed to go in cars, for a little road snack and some juice for the kids. Or maybe to go in a playhouse, or in the room of an anorexic person. Or maybe it's meant as a vitamin fridge! Seeing as literally 1/4 of the space in my fridge is designated for my various nutritional oils and supplements, I think that could be a great use for this miniscule invention. It's a good thing I played a lot of Tetris in my younger years, or I might have an emotional breakdown trying to fit my peanut butter back in there. Although now that I got rid of some of the applesauce things are a little better. 

My grandmother forced two jars of her home-made applesauce on me last weekend when I moved in which was a very nice gesture, and I do love applesauce, but what would appear to be two normal-sized jars of applesauce in a normal-sized refrigerator in my fridge are HUGE jars that take up almost all of my one-and-only shelf. So yesterday before I could comfortably fit any of my 3 vegetables bought at the farmers market into my fridge I found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of my fooding area eating applesauce. I put it on everything I could find - celery, rice cakes, crackers, a spoon, a spoon with peanut butter on it...it went on for a while. But the point is, applesauce gone, fridge a little more spacious (though about 8 things still roll out whenever I open the damn door) and a happier me. Plus I can still fit my jar of dolmades, my aioli mustard and my very large bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms in, so I surely won't go hungry any time soon. Oh the woes of my college life! (At least these are the things that pain me before actual classes start. Hopefully then I'll exciting academic things to worry about like "homework" and "quizzes" and "3-ring binders". It all sounds very exhilarating and challenging). 

So in case you haven't noticed, I have in fact moved to "College". What a hilarious concept - me and higher education...how about this - raise your hand if you ever thought I come back to school after a year off - let's see...no one? Great. Good. I'm almost surprised I did. 

So I've officially been here a week and I think it's time to go home. I've decided that College just isn't for me. The whole not being within an arms-length of my parents, having to actually meet people, doing my own laundry, not having delicious left-overs magically appear in my refrigerator (not to mention not having a real-people-sized refrigerator), and being able to walk down the block on a Friday night and find at least 5 parties to wander into and out of at my leisure just isn't my thing. Sorry to disappoint. Ok it's not that bad. But all jokes aside, college is kind of weird. I mean, the idea of getting a bunch of 18-22 year-old kids together and putting them all within a couple blocks of each other with limited supervision and essentially unlimited possibilities is just kind of funny. Particularly when all the professors expect everyone to get completely wasted every weekend and schedule class according to that principle. And dorms are especially weird. Sharing a bathroom with 27 other people is a little odd, and definitely doesn't feel like I'm taking the next step into independent adult life - it feels more like I'm back at OMSI camp. Only now everyone gets wasted on the weekends and there are sorority girls lurking around every other corner checking to see if their hair is straight enough to go workout. Good lord I do miss OMSI camp.

Last week (probably the longest week of my life...) was spent moving all of my worldy possessions into my incredibly spacious dorm room (note sarcasm), and spending a lot of time on my computer checking my e-mail 8,000 times a day, watching various TV shows and contemplating my new lifestyle. I also spent a lot of my time getting used to life without a companion. Or trying anyway. But I did manage to find the Co-op in town, the farmer's markets, the yoga studio and the Goodwill so I've got some bases to work from. I also attended the EPIC OSU vs. USC football game on Thursday which was even fun for me (a person who's been to maybe one football game in my entire life), and I especially enjoyed storming the field after we won and almost getting trampled to death. Near-death experiences are always so much fun. 

I also had my first day of classes today, which was pretty much what I expected it to be. 250 people in both my math and chem classes, and about 20 in my spanish class. I almost crapped my pants before spanish started, as I haven't spoken in a very long time and it's basically a 400 level class, so I'm in with all the spanish majors and native speakers who take it for "fun". It's essentially a history of Latin America class taught entirely in spanish. Once I calmed down and remembered that I actually do know quite a bit of the language I could understand almost everything she said, and got pretty excited about the class. We'll see how long I stick around. Tomorrow I also have my first music class (basically comparative world music) which I'm very excited for and will be interested to see what kinds of people have landed in that class with me. As for now, I have HOMEWORK to do! And tomorrow I get to go buy BINDERS and PENCILS and GRAPH PAPER!!!!!!  (What can I say, I've been out of school for 16 months. I'm excited. Sue me. More like talk to me in a month and see how excited I am then about homework and pencils. Then laugh in my face when I grumble incoherently and shed a tear or 5 about mid-terms). 

But I am excited to be back to blogging, mostly because since I no longer have a boyfriend upon whom I can unload my daily senseless brain diarrhea, I now rely exclusively on the cyber world! Exciting indeed. 

Off to make flash cards and do my laundry!

Kate, the "College Student" (snicker, snicker)