I love food

Every culture has it's own specialty;
Russian Borscht, Italian Pasta, Spanish Rice
but every subculture has its own specialty too;
Your moms brownies, Grandmas soup, or even your younger cousins mud pies.

Me? I love food. I love to cook, I LOVE to eat
and I love to watch people cook. I will try anything once...and more than once...and more than twice. I feel it is impossible for me not to like a certain food, I just need to find the perfect combination.

"Trying new things adds years to your life"
I get kind of annoyed with people who refuse to try a food because it looks funny or they don't like an ingredient.

It's food! It has a 95% chance of being delicious...HOW DO YOU SAY NO?!
So yes it is a little awkward sometimes being the only one at the table ordering something I can't pronounce while others stay safe with a salad. Then I shovel it down, enjoying every last bite.
I love food, I love eating.
Pizza bores me, unless I'm in Italy, sitting on a beach 'Italian' Pizza in hand.
McDonald's is disgusting, as is all fast food.
I try new things, I'll combine the most random ingredients and it'll taste delicious, but it may have some awkward green color and others will run in the other way.
Give me rabbit, grasshopper and escargot. Excite me.

Maybe it's because I tend to take more risks in my every day life that I have no problem chowing down on some bull testicles. What's the worst that can happen? I'm not gonna die? Some cultures live off this stuff every day. Why be close minded? Because our society shelters us? No. I refuse to live in a closed off world.

So the next time someone offers you something slimy, green, and maybe even smelly don't say no.
Take it. Live life on the edge. It's only food.

You are who you are

So sociologists and psychologists have this whole thing with "Nature" v "Nurture", are we who we are because we are born that way, or is the society around us what molds us into the horrible monsters angels that we are?
Me? I'm more for Nurture. Sure we can be born with some things (ie. diseases) but many are easy to change. Nurture on the other hand, nurture is everything. It's what you see, what you learn. It is you.

Would you be who you are today if you had different parents? If you were raised in a different country?
If I never watched a single episode of Grey's Anatomy, if my mother wasn't a heartless, cold [insert really bad word], if I were to have had friends when I was younger instead of creating my own worlds, and writing; would I still be me?
No, I'd be a different me.

Yes, I was born with blue eyes and blonde hair, that is my 'nature', but No that doesn't make me who I am. There are colored contacts, there is hair dye––which I am a prominent user of; and why do we change ourselves? Because society tells us to, in little itty bitty hints, whenever a new show or movie or ad comes out. 'Be skinny' They tell us 'Eat Organic'.
Everywhere you turn, bam, society, shoving helpful hints of who you should be and what you should eat, wear, do.

Me? I'm outgoing, but I blush like a madwoman even when I don't actually feel embarrassed...I have nightmares about television shows and I care way too much about fictional characters. I like blood, dead people, I have a passion for writing but all those things about me, they would be different. If even just one thing had been changed about my life when I was younger, things would be different.

I'm too attached to fictional characters

I'm mainly blogging this because when I was growing up, I was told it was better to tell your bad dreams (to a sink or a toilet) and it would make them go away.
So yes you, you are my toilet.

Anywhoo....
So I had this dream

There's a solemn song playing in the background, some sad music to make you tear up as you stare at a blank hallway of a hospital. You find yourself listening to your deep breaths as you worry what will happen once the camera stops moving and something will appear. There's a shot on Alex's face, close up, he looks confused, upset, hopeful, hurt and a whole lot of emotions that somehow still end up looking adorable. His eyes are wet, but he's not crying, pupils are shaking. You start crying watching him, because you know sh*t is about to go down. Your hands are ripping apart little pieces of the tissue in your hand, heart beating out of your chest making those lub-dub noises they sometimes play in voice over. The camera moves to a vaguely familiar face that you never expected to see on this show again. Her hair is almost at her shoulders, wavy. She has bags under her eyes, but they're smiling up at him. You scream, fangirl heart giddy with glee, and start to cry...nay, bawl just staring at her face. Her lip trembles as it curls into a smile.
"Izzie." Shot to Alex, who has more water in front of his cornea than one would think possible. You bring your nails into your mouth, chowing down on them as your whole body shakes anxiously. The music cooing you in the background.
"Alex." Close up on her face, tears falling onto her smile. She steps forward. Mid shot on both of them, inches apart. You find yourself drawn closer, holding in your tears and your breath, waiting. She lifts a hand to his face, it stops mid way, wary. His hand meets it, fingers wrapping over her delicate palm. He brings it up to his face. You're basically puking tears and happiness. Adrenaline pumping through your veins. His lips part, slowly pressing against her fingers. Tears (finally) falling from his eyes. She wraps her arms behind his neck, foreheads touching.
"Izzie." His husky voice whispers. Their noses meet.
"I love you." You're on your knees shirt wet from all the joy you've been crying and you start hysterically sobbing as she says the words you never thought you'd hear from her again. Lips swim against each other as he presses her toward him.
The music stops, the beat changing to something far less hopeful and far more melancholy. Alex pulls away, face wet with their tears, and looks at her. She lets her eyes stay open for a while before they sweep closed. Another voice/sound over. Her last breath escaping her chest. She falls limp in his hands.
Your heart stops. Body freezing and feeling numb as it all hits you. She's dying.
Nooo you scream. Get me out of this nightmare! I don't want to see this anymoreee
His hands grip against her shoulders. Her head falling back, blonde hair bobbing. You see his chest rise as he starts to cry, hands shaking as he lays her gently on the floor. His hand smooths out her hair, wrapping loose strands behind her ear. He bends his head, letting his ear gravitate above her nose, waiting for a breath, looking for a rising chest. His hand wipes the moisture off his face, clasping against his eyes.
Long shot, her on the floor, not moving. Him, hovering over her, bawling.
You've managed to find a pillow and are holding it in your hand, squeezing the life out of it. You're rocking back and forth, not breathing.
He rises, pressing both palms to her chest as he rocks back and forth, pushing the life back into her. He mutters swears under his breath, and you wonder how he can see what he's doing with those waterfalls coming out of his eye sockets.
Close up on his hands as he lets go, looking for her to breathe on her own. She doesn't.
You scream (pointlessly) COME ON DAMMIT.
He calls for help, eyes locked on the lifeless face of the wife he will never stop loving. Mark appears, shirtless, why? because he can be. He brings an AED, long shot as they strip her shirt (who knew my dreams were so polite). Close up on the two hands in pray position on Alex's face. We hear Mark yell clear and then a zap.
Your pillow is in half, laying next to you on the floor as you rip the hair from your skull.
Another clear, another flat line.
Mark sighs and you break down, because if shirtless Mark cant help you than no one can.
Alex glares at him, pushing the paddles aside and going back to CPR.
Mark stands, pulling Alex away. He fights him, sobbing. Mark wraps two (very sexy muscular arms) around him, pulling him away. Nurse Eli appears, to help hold down Alex...because it takes two to hold down a wrestling king.
You cant breathe, you consider calling 911 yourself. Then Cristina appears, a vision in perfectly ironed blue scrubs. She bends to check a non responsive pulse and gives Alex a pouty sad look. Then everything goes black

I wake up and basically I end up crying for a day and a half.


What was the point of this? Oh, right, I'm too attached to fictional characters. Is this what society has come to? A bunch of TV addicts who think the people on their TV's are real (yeah yeah, I know their not...doesn't make me any less crazy). I mean here I am having extremely vivid and lifelike dreams of watching TV, an episode that my head made up, and I'm not only crying, I'm hyperventilating; and I'm not only crying and hyperventilating in my dream I wake up and I'm a mess, and I stay a mess. Me thinks that's a problem.

But seriously...HOW CAN YOU NOT GET ATTACHED TO THIS?
(start this beauty at :30)

We are all going to die

It's a pretty hard subject. Death. You are born, you live, you die. I mean that's it. For most of life we're confused and lost, we're babies.
It's naive and juvenile to think anything other than death is imminent. We are put here on this earth, we are born and created for nine months, nurtured through our toddler years, cared for in our preteens. We rebel in our teens, against parents, against the world. Then we enter the world on our own, some of us succeed and others, others fail. But succeeding in life doesn't necessarily mean becoming a doctor or a lawyer like our parents would like for us to think it does. Succeeding means being happy. So if you're happy staring in porn, being a struggling author, or in fact with your hands in a bloody chest cavity you are succeeding.
Life is short. So short. So why would you ever want to do something that makes you unhappy?
You are going to die. Say it to yourself. "I am going to die." You could die today, tomorrow, fifty years from now. It doesn't matter. It is going to happen. So why are you still torturing yourself; working for that boss that doesn't understand how good you really are, hiding in a closet when all you really wanna do is scream to world 'I'm gay', or living with a spouse that you can't stand. It's called divorce and it's okay. You. You need to be happy. Nobody else is going to make you happy. We're all looking out for ourselves. Now of course you can't be happy all the time. Life isn't perfect, but we have choices. We have some control. So look out for yourself. Are you, right now, happy?
Makes you think, doesn't it.
Let's try an excersise
This is inspired by Morrie...or rather really Mitch.
'You have 24 hours to live, and you can do anything. Anything that makes you happy. What is your perfect day?'
Mine would start off with me waking up around 4:30am. I'd have a perfect cup of black coffee (no cream, no sugar) and I'd go to my computer and write. I'd write for a good 3 hours, finish a novel, or maybe just write a short story. I'd take a shower, let the water soak me into a raisin. Get dressed in something that makes me feel beautiful. Dab on a little makeup. Then I'd go to brunch with everyone I know. Order the most delicious most expensive thing on the menu, the fattier the better, and actually sit and eat food. We'd talk...about anything and everything. I'd hop on a plane, with only those closest to me. Go to a remote beach. I'd read a book, any good book, before running of and making love for the last time in a reef. Then I'd take out the chairs, have my feet in the current of the water, moon shining on us and have food served. A bottle of champagne, to celebrate a good life. We'd talk. Laugh. Cry.

What's yours?