Real Reason

I'm pretty sure the real reason I'm not married is that, before being married, I would have to be engaged.  

And that means engagement pictures. 

And that means me, in front of a camera, with a fabulous looking man... feeling like an idiot. 

I never know what to do with my face. Or my arms. Or the rest of me. So I stand there looking awkward. I'm not good at standing still! Any particular still shot of me is going to have a hard time capturing who I am, because very little of me is actually still. Ever. 

I have insecurities like everybody else has--I don't like my teeth, I'm too short or too fat or too white or whatever. I tend to get over those later.  Mostly the problem is a camera makes me uncomfortable, and that is not a natural state for me. So all my pictures look awkward--because I FEEL awkward!

I should work on that. 

...Or I could just stay single. ;-)

The Sound of Silence

I am very excited to someday, for some brief amount of time, live in a place where it is actually quiet. Not all the time--just SOME of the time. Simply put, no "filler" noises (ambient TV/music, talking about nothing) only there because the other people are uncomfortable with quietness. Also--the inspiration for this post--no neighbors blasting metal and screamo loud enough to hear it in my kitchen, OVER the dishwasher.

It takes a LOT of mental energy for me to process audio signals. It is difficult to listen to music or TV or other potentially engaging sounds at the same time as doing something else requiring focus--like, thinking. Sometimes I can, but it's not common practice for me. Background audio signals that I need to track is fine (children I'm babysitting, for example). But trying to filter other audio is hard, and very distracting. Once I do actually get the mental filter up (not an easy task), trying to get my attention becomes difficult--so I don't put it up often. Mostly, this leads to background noise driving me crazy--because my brain is processing all sound as equally important, and therefore gets overloaded and distracted. Especially when sleep deprived.

People tend to be surprised by this problem, as I am so flipping loud ALL THE TIME, especially when I talk. And I sing loud. And drum loud. And many other things...loud. But it makes sense, with the hearing loss I have had since I was a small(ish) child. If there's noise and you try to talk to me--without visually get my attention first, or calling out and get eye contact--chances are I'm not ignoring you. I'm just not registering--or not hearing you in the first place.  Sometimes this leads to me seeming very rude. 

Don't get me wrong, I love listening to music. I guess I just need moments when I control my own audio surroundings. My roommates and neighbors last summer were AWESOME about that. And I miss them. 

#Iwishmywallswerethicker

New FB Profile Picture

Started some new medicine. Cool and all, but one of the (minor??) side effects is...I have been awake since 7am yesterday morning. That's 38 hours. I have been actively Doing Things in those 38 hours, including cleaning my entire kitchen, making a roast, dulce de leche, and a meatloaf, going shopping, chatting with my Mom, doing my hair, watching a movie (trying to convince my brain to sleep), going on a lovely walk with Manperson Gamili, visiting with a long-lost hooligan and her newly created Tiny Human, AND completing a 9-hour load at work in only 7.25 hours. I was tearing it up, and I SHOULD be exhausted.  

And here it is, 9:13pm THE NEXT DAY, and I'm not only still awake, but not particularly tired. I took this medicine more than 27 hours ago, and while the initial Crazy Head Heartpounding Shindig has wound down, I'm still feeling odd about it all.

This must be what those "I put three Five Hour Energy's into a RedBull and then mix it with an espresso shot or two" people feel like. O.O 

needless to say, i decided not to take it again tonight. i dont to be COMPLETELY deranged when this all finally comes to a crash. o.o

Croutons

I realized that I have four HUGE loaves of sourdough bread at my house that never got delivered to people that wanted some. 

I feel a little like a punk. The bread was delicious, and they wanted some. And it has no preservatives in it--awesome for health, less awesome for forgiveness-to-the-baker-who-forgot-to-let-people-eat-it. 

Lucky for me, I have a dehydrator. And a rather extensive spice cabinet. Chef In My Head decided that I will make croutons and bread crumbs. I've never done either, but I can't imagine it's too difficult. This will be a mini adventure!

I don't eat croutons. 

But I'm sure SOMEBODY will! :-)

PS...I just realized just how many croutons ten pounds of bread will make. So....hit me up if you want some...for summer salads or light soups or whatever. o.o

Input from the Alter Ego

I laughed WAY too hard at this.  Then I realized--Shopenhauer wrote his Fourfold dissertation at age 25.  TWENTY-FIVE. I'm almost that age!  I felt the sudden scramble to review my life, frantically searching for some sign that I have used my time with purpose, that my life has had value, that I had made a difference somewhere.

Then the tiny voice in my head started laughing at me.  "Well, Self," she said, in a dry tone. "Might we even call this an... "existential crisis"? ba-doum *chhe*.."

Touche', dryly ironic mental alter-ego. Well played.

Eat. Pray. Love. And Whatever. Part One.

This mini-series written in response to several comments I've had over the last little while, from people whom I believed knew me well.  I do not intend to sound, as my brother would say, "chippy." These are meant merely as clarification. And they are kind of long. Best read aloud...or at least imagining that I am reading them aloud to you...or whatever. 

I love you all.  

You've had two days of brief and clear and simple. Today was the first day of a three or four part, very unBCS response to recent events. 

Eat

 For whatever record is being kept here, I am a professional foodie. That is my job title:  The Foodie. That's what I do. It's my job--I get paid for it. Happenstancially, it is also my hobby.  I read technique books for fun, and spend "fun" money on things like saffron and artisan honey and 30-year-aged balsamic and rosewater. (And then I decide rosewater is too expensive so I make my own.) 

The thing is, food is so much a part of my day to day life that it is no longer directly associated with eating in my mind.  Food is a challenge, an expression, a profession. It is a way to share my talents with people, to improve the quality of their life by bringing innocent sensual pleasure to their current minute of mortal existence. It's a way to show people that I love them. Food is a language that everyone speaks--whether they want to or not. I am a very results-oriented person, who connects very powerfully physically with the world around me. The culinary universe is a great place for me to develop talents within the scaffolding of that nature. 

I cook for people that I like. I certainly cook for boys that I Like...and just for boys that like food. I love cooking for people!  I love it when people cook for me!!  Many people seem to be intimidated to do so.  They say things like "oh, this enchilada (PS--one of the best I've ever tasted) won't be up to your culinary-student-chef-person standards..."  or "Well, I say that I feel bad that you pay for/cook dinner every week during our class break--but I don't  cook because I feel like my food won't be up to snuff!"  

  ummmmmmmm...yeah, no. Thanks for playing! Whether you are totally aware of it or not, what you are really saying is "My insecurity is more important to me than the fact that you are hungry," or "My insecurity is more important than your money."

(these are not the only two times it happened, so if these two are reading this post, don't take it personally. I'm just using this to illustrate a larger point. I love you.)

Anyway. One of my favorite meals ever was creamy chicken ramen with frozen mixed vegetables that a man-friend of mine made me once. I am not a food snob when it comes to food intake. So how about this: I'll work on not coming off that way, and you, hypothetical persons, work on not assuming I'm looking down on you. Your insecurity is not my problem, so don't MAKE it my problem. Thank you. We all do it--and I include myself in there--but it makes me feel bad. Just because it seems as though I do nothing but Food Stuff 24/7, please don't think that I'm sitting there judging your food/culinary/whatever as Lesser And Unworthy. Seriously. Food is fun. And yours is probably delicious.

To put it in college-kid terms, I love "free" food.  I put that in quotes, because NO food is free.  SOMEBODY paid for it, or worked for it, or made it, or grew it.  Perhaps a better phrase would be "gifted" food. I LOVE when someone cooks for me--because I know what it takes to put a meal together! When I invite people over for dinner or dessert or something, and the response is "Sure! free food?  I'm always down for free food,"   sometimes that gives me pause (depending on the relationship I have with the person, of course).  I'm not even sure why--sometimes I just feel like that may not be the appropriate response.  Where I was raised, if someone invited you to dinner, the usual response was "Oh, thank you! That sounds great! Is there anything you would like me to bring?"  ...or something to that effect. Not "Wow, thanks, free stuff!" ...>.>...  <.<...  Is that the way we respond when someone offers us a gift?  money? service? I don't know. For me, preparing a meal for someone is all of the above.  It doesn't deserve lauds and honor, and that's certainly not why I cook for people.  But a little politeness and courtesy among friends usually doesn't go amiss. Neither does giving someone something delicious...or not-as-delicious. 

[[If you don't know me well, best stop reading here. The rest of this may sound dangerously like a rant. However, read it with much more of my dry humor and it will be far more accurate.]]


Another social block that I run up against--more than anyone should-- is the idea that somehow my being fat is related to being a chef--and since fat people can't possibly be healthy, or happy, or loved, then my life would improve greatly were I *NOT* a chef...or that food/chefness has become my substitute for being healthy/happy/loved....OR, even better, if people eat the food that I cook, they too will be fat, and therefore unhealthy/unhappy/unloved!  No possible way would a fat chef cook healthy food! No possible way would a person who cooks all day also NOT eat like a pig the food that she cooks!  She must be fat because she's cooking all day and snarfing down all of those calories like a willpowerless glutton! She's fat because she's a chef.

Seriously??

  I got news for you, well-intention-ed-but-fantastically-incorrect-persons:  

I was fat before I was a chef. Get over it. 

 Second news flash?  Fat people can be healthy, and happy, and loved. I am AMAZED at how much my body has recovered from some very serious medical issues I have dealt with over my high school and college years. Heck, my whole life. My body is none of your business, and I don't have to justify my struggles to you. 
I am very, very happy as I live my life according to the nature and outline that God gave me. Again, thank you for your concern, but my sadness and pain stems much more often from people being sick or dying or being blown up or making stupid choices like listening to Nickleback. You know...real problems. 

As for being loved...I'm a strong, independent black woman who don't need no man. 

haha but seriously?  I've dated lots of guys. Many of them decided I wasn't thin enough or pretty enough or whatever, and if they wait a little longer, they'll find someone as awesome as me but with an easier life, less intensity, and also smaller than a 16. 

.

Usually I dumped them. ^_^ 

.

As for the others...I've had my heart take a few beatings in its time. But who hasn't? Thanks for your concern for me, but I can handle it.  And if YOU are concerned that the people who are dearest to you will love you less because you gained weight by eating the Obesity Powder we fat chefs put in your food?  

Maybe it's time you found new people. 

(Or watched Legally Blonde. Bombshell's got problems too, babe. Remember: bend...and snap!)

I don't get uptight when the gamers post about games, or when the fitness junkies post about their own fitness, or when the computer guys post jokes that no one else understands because they are written in C++. I don't even get grumpy when the conspiracy theorists post about President Obama being a martian or how all gay people are going to convince our children to marry stray cats!  So please don't get grumpy at this professional food person for posting about food. Please. This sounds like "a rant at an invisible foe" to some of you, but I have actually had some people un-friend me over this (which kind of makes me feel like adults never actually grow out of elementary school cliques). 

Fact: Reading my posts won't actually make you fat. And, fat's not the worst thing in the world a person could be--one could be shallow and insecure and judgmental, for example. That would kind of suck. 

Sincerely Yours, 

Chef Sabs

Elephant In the Room. Of My Mind.

Took trip to Salt Lake this morning to drop off my brother at the airport.

Made some French Lavender Lemonade with the rest of my Meyer Lemons.

Got done with finals. Good grades all around.

Still haven't figured out my transcript transfer/freeze between universities.

Just got boxes cleared from my living room....just in time for my brother's stuff to come and fill it up again, haha.

I'm going to miss that boy.

Re-connected with a former roommate and current friend whom I have not seen in a while. I was in the area to see someone else, but I was glad to catch up with her.

Trying to focus on moving forward with life. I did a really good job of that for over a week... til, like, Monday. I'm still doing okay, but I have to remind myself to stay focused.

Setting up my calendar and cover letters and such for my new position today. Maybe that will help the focus. Sitting in a box in front of a computer all day may prove less-than-conducive to concentration. We shall see.

This is in short sentence bursts not on purpose, but because my silly Girl Brain is having a hard time focusing.