Props if you can figure out what we're laughing about. Unfortunately it doesn't load clearly on here.
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Yay!
I didn't fail the GRE :) I didn't do that well on the Quantitative section but whatever I did really well on the Verbal! I don't know about the essays yet, but the first one was alright I just didn't have time to finish. The second one I killed!!! RARRRRR
Monday, 14 February 2011
StumbleUpon
"Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity; Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend."
Sunday, 13 February 2011
I was just tested
Gnarly, translucent spider spotted while trying to cook pasta! I passed the test though, I scooped him up in a conveniently-just-emptied coffee jar and took the 'little' guy outside, instead of freaking out and squashing him. Again, I was much better as a child. I used to hunt spiders. Not to kill them, but to catch them and freak other kids out with before I put them back. Wolf spiders were my favorite because they were the easiest to find. Tunnel webs. At some point in my life however, I turned into an omnivorous scaredy-cat. Not that I've ever eaten much meat...And I haven't killed many spiders in my life, I always feel strange about it. But, after that first one, the squashing became easier. Way easier than the catching/releasing system. And if they are especially freaky, take par example, this translucent one that is now roaming the streets of Paris, I go into survival mode and it becomes their life against mine. Tonight we both win, and I don't feel strange about it.
Au revoir meat
Bien cuit : well done
French people don't cook their meat! It's very strange.
I went out this weekend with Josh and some real live Parisians to a great little restaurant near Place D'It. I went for the duck, because I love duck and there's no ordering a French meal without meat...California is definitely cooler in that respect. Vegan options?? I doubt if they even have a word for vegan in French. Anyways, the waitress gave me a funny look when I said 'bien cuit', because no one ever says that in this country!
My flatmate Antoine, from Grenoble, would cook us dinner sometimes (he's really good, his dad is a chef) and when I would say bien cuit he'd be like 'No no no no no, you cannot eat it like that!' and would hand me a bloody slab that I could not touch haha. Les français. My friends at the restaurant informed me that it loses all it's flavor if you cook it. In my head I'm thinking....yea....the flavor of blood! yuck! No more meat man. Moral of the story, my duck was not well done, it was pink haha and I find that highly amusing. There are just no translations for some things.
Working with my recently developed 'scavenger' lifestyle however, where I eat whatever I am offered, I managed to get some of it down, and donated the rest to the happy meat eaters surrounding me. The scavenger lifestyle comes with lack of funds. It started this summer in Santa Barbara when I had recently become 'independent'. It's less pretentious, however I will never be a meat eater. I was born wanting nothing to do with eating animals. My first argument with my parents I can remember is over me refusing to eat the chicken on my plate. They wouldn't let me leave the table! I can still see it. My mom was pretty much on my side.
When I was 5 I told my mom one night before I went to bed that I believed that when we die we become animals. I was more enlightened as a child. But, it's hard to have morals when you're hungry.
I say that in the lightest way possible, I do not pretend to have suffered any real hardship or hunger in my privileged life. However, I understand in the shallowest of ways that if you're really hungry, you eat what is given to you. But, in this moment I have the good fortune to be able to choose what I eat. Therefore, I am going to remember what I already knew as a child:
In a past life, I was probably a slaughtered chicken.
Au revoir for now, meat. It really hasn't been that great.
French people don't cook their meat! It's very strange.
I went out this weekend with Josh and some real live Parisians to a great little restaurant near Place D'It. I went for the duck, because I love duck and there's no ordering a French meal without meat...California is definitely cooler in that respect. Vegan options?? I doubt if they even have a word for vegan in French. Anyways, the waitress gave me a funny look when I said 'bien cuit', because no one ever says that in this country!
My flatmate Antoine, from Grenoble, would cook us dinner sometimes (he's really good, his dad is a chef) and when I would say bien cuit he'd be like 'No no no no no, you cannot eat it like that!' and would hand me a bloody slab that I could not touch haha. Les français. My friends at the restaurant informed me that it loses all it's flavor if you cook it. In my head I'm thinking....yea....the flavor of blood! yuck! No more meat man. Moral of the story, my duck was not well done, it was pink haha and I find that highly amusing. There are just no translations for some things.
Working with my recently developed 'scavenger' lifestyle however, where I eat whatever I am offered, I managed to get some of it down, and donated the rest to the happy meat eaters surrounding me. The scavenger lifestyle comes with lack of funds. It started this summer in Santa Barbara when I had recently become 'independent'. It's less pretentious, however I will never be a meat eater. I was born wanting nothing to do with eating animals. My first argument with my parents I can remember is over me refusing to eat the chicken on my plate. They wouldn't let me leave the table! I can still see it. My mom was pretty much on my side.
When I was 5 I told my mom one night before I went to bed that I believed that when we die we become animals. I was more enlightened as a child. But, it's hard to have morals when you're hungry.
I say that in the lightest way possible, I do not pretend to have suffered any real hardship or hunger in my privileged life. However, I understand in the shallowest of ways that if you're really hungry, you eat what is given to you. But, in this moment I have the good fortune to be able to choose what I eat. Therefore, I am going to remember what I already knew as a child:
In a past life, I was probably a slaughtered chicken.
Au revoir for now, meat. It really hasn't been that great.
Friday, 11 February 2011
Happy
Sunshine in Paris :) All the humans are out!
And the Basquiat exhibit. RAD. You should look him up, he's from New York
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