The IncredibleJulk

rage that will split your pants, but without the unsightly green tint 

Wherein my fat ass busts a move

Tonight my friend Bird and I took a group of our students to see the band Snow Patrol. I have to be honest, I couldn't tell them apart from any of the other mainstream, top 40 radio schlock. I had heard their songs before, but they all blend into the cultural din that is a lot of popular music. Not offensively bad, but not memorable, either. I thought the night was going to be a preview of what my time in Hell will be like, zoobs and squares abounding. While the audience profile certainly matched the most morbid of my nightmares, I have to admit, I had a blast.

There's something so freeing about not giving a damn what other people think. (Though I will be honest, I think that shit needs to be reigned in. God knows I don't want to find myself serenading strangers just because I don't care what people think.) I danced my (sizeable) ass off. I mean, I was out of control. I'm pretty certain my students think I'm mentally deranged, and there's probably some cell phone video footage of me doing over the top crane mimicry, but man, I had fun.

I think I would have gladly stayed in my seat, waiting for the thing to end, had the audience not been full of lifeless freaks. I mean, who spends 30 bones to go to a show, and then stands there staring with dead eyes (but then freaks out for the encore. What the hell?) or just holds up their camera phone and makes sure to capture every moment.  I danced for every person in that audience. And I am TIRED.

I should note: Screw your videophone footage of a concert. Seriously, take your phone, and, sans lube, shove it up your ass. First of all, I'm pretty sure any footage you are getting is absolute shit, so, kind of useless. "OOH, look at this Plain White Ts concert I was at, holding my phone up like a dumbass..." (yes, the "plain white ts" perhaps best known for a milkshake they created at Denny's...or some song...whatever...they were the opening band). And assuming you actually have decent footage, what are you going to do with it? Take it home and relive that awesome concert experience? I watched you. You weren't having fun, so quit pretending that you were. I am so over experience being mediated by technology. You can't take it with you, people, so drop your phone and shake yer ass.

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Castanets - You Are The Blood

the original is stellar. same melty feeling. video? meh. song? boner.

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Sufjan Stevens - You Are The Blood

this makes me melt. the castanets version is pretty stellar too. also, am i back? who knows?

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A giant wad of cheese

Oh, hey, I know you. Yeah. I haven't been around much lately. In my defense, I've been kind of busy, and not had much of substance to say (as if my posts were these witty, substantive bits of wisdom that you just can't live without). Turns out August kind of blows when you work @ a University.

Regardless, I'm back. Ish. I've been writing a lot on my baby maker blog, but that's all hormones and sadness and pity parties. Let's keep it light here, shall we?

Let's get down to the meat (or seitan or tofu or whatever you prefer) of things. Being a vegan kind of kicks ass. But before I sing the praises of all things veggie, let's have a few confessions, shall we?

1) I'm an all or nothing kind of gal, which has made every attempt to switch to veganism a failure. I've transitioned this time from being a lacto/ovo/pesco kind of gal, which has made it much easier than from my times as a near carnivore on Atkins'. Normally when I eff up, and eat a cheeseburger or an entire cow, I am kind of over the whole thing, this time my eff ups have been a bit less dramatic, and I feel much readier to rebound.

2) Hence, the confession. I would say I'm primarily vegan for health reasons, and I'm more concerned with staying away from dairy than meat or eggs, though I try really hard to avoid those as well. I really do not want to be eating animals, but when I have to start getting into political conversations about my food choices I just kind of freak out and give up. Doing it for health is almost has hard, but I don't have people try so hard to actively convince me that I'm wrong.  Anyway, I've really buggered the whole vegan thing a couple of times this past week, and feel like putting my dirty laundry out for everyone to see. 
                   *Occasionally I eat things with eggs in them, mostly out of sheer laziness, but occasionally in rebellion against tofu.
                   *I don't check candy labels for things like gelatin, or red dye 40 or whatever the hell. So, i probably eat more insects and horse bones than any good vegan should.
                   *Last Saturday, the husby had the most delicious smelling empanada at the farmer's market. So I had a bite, or two. It was filled with burger. And I loved it.
                   *Also last Saturday, we went to all you can eat sushi, and I had both shrimp and crab.
                   *The most greivous sin, in my eyes, came yesterday, when in the midst of a Clomid-enhanced freakout I decided to order an old standby at Beto's (or Rancheritos, dammit), and got a breakfast burrito, without cheese. I willingly chose to eat eggs, which kind of sent me into a panic attack later, but crime of all crimes, there was a big-ass wad of cheese in the middle of that burrito, and I stared it down, and took a huge effing bite. And it was good. Really damn good. I quickly realized that I was going to get really sick if I continued eating it, so I followed the husband's suggestion and just peeled the giant wad of cheese out and ate the rest. 

So. In spite of all my vegan missteps, I really REALLY love being vegan. Even though I eat way more candy than I should, I feel like I eat much healthier food, and I feel like the food I eat is much more flavorful. It's made me think a lot about why we even eat meat at all. I mean, I get the craving for the occasional piece of flesh, and I truly miss the meltiness of cheese, but beyond that, I've realized how much FLAVOR we miss when we use those things.

Try going to a normal restaurant and ordering something without dairy in it. Options without meat are gaining some popularity (though it's still really  blowing my mind as to how MUCH meat we consume), but we put cheese on everyeffingthing. And we put A LOT of cheese on things. Not even good cheese either (and this girl LOVES good cheese. Oh, how I miss it), but like, pseudo-cheese. Chock full of fat and animal hormones, and chemicals. And for what? For a little extra flavor in our over-processed, white flour, greasy-ass simulacrum(b) of a meal? 

There are so many amazing flavors in the world that go completely untasted because we coat things in meat and cheese and fat. Believe it or not, people, vegetables have flavor, and they taste GOOD, as do whole grains. We spend so much of our time acclimating our tastebuds to things that never appear in nature that we dull our senses from the ability to experience food as just that FOOD.

I'm not trying to convert anyone (though if you're eating meat and dairy, you should REALLY steer (ha! steer! beef!) clear of hormonally/genetically treated products. I'm pretty sure I'm suffering the consequences of a lifetime full of 'em. Plus, you're killing poor, sweet, defenseless little animals...) but mine eyes have seen the glory of the tasting of the veggies, and I thought maybe I could persuade a few of you to eat  more of 'em.

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Mr. Kotter

So, the husb and I were talking over sushi last eve (don't worry, kids, mine was vegan...which really just makes it a carb-laden vehicle for delivering ginger and wasabi...) about what it is we want to do in our lives.  The husby has a plan. He's got a new job, and doing an online master's program with it in the Spring will set him up to actually have a career. Must be nice.


On the other hand, I have nothing to aspire to. My dreams of professoring and graduate school seem impossible, and I feel like I change my mind so often that I don't really want to devote the time, money and energy to something I don't feel that passionate about. I talked about the possibility of getting a Montessori school teaching endorsement for itty-bitties, but I don't know if I can cope with other people's babies. (Though, isn't the idea of me opening my own Montessori school kind of rad? I mean, I would raise such sweetheart geniuses.) So now I'm regressing. I started looking again at getting my secondary teaching licensure so I could teach jr. high/high school English.

I'm not thrilled with the idea. I don't hate it, but I'm just not over the moon about it. I just have this overwhelming feeling that I'm settling. Let's be honest, if I had a choice, I would stay home and raise babies, bake bread, garden, read books, and play in an alt-country/bluegrass band. Simple aspirations, right? And all I ever think about is how I can get that life. Any other potential just doesn't seem right. I don't feel passionate about anything else, at least enough that I would want to devote my life to. So what do I do? I know the real answer: commune. I will gladly tend to the children, cook  the food, care for the garden, sing songs, etc. if I can just live on a commune with people I love. Preferably in the Pacific Northwest.

But it won't happen. My dreams get crushed, daily. I try to psych myself out, tell myself that from a philosophical/intellectual standpoint these aren't the things I want, that emotionally I couldn't cope with having a kid, the list goes on. But, I'm a liar, and I know it (that, and try as I might, I just can't get past hormonal urges), which puts me back to square one, of actually knowing what I want, but feeling like there's no way to get there.

Which ultimately means I'll probably end up teaching high school, which might not be all that bad. Iffen it's on a commune.

Also, some of you may have been readers of an old blog "babyincredible" that I set to private a few months ago. Since I've circled back around to putting babymaking on the front burner, I opened 'er back up. In case you were wondering.

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Dude looks like a lady...

When I was in high school (and let's be honest, well beyond those years) I was terrified of any event that would have me in a fancy gown. I believe the phrase that resonates was, "I feel like a horse dressed up for a parade." 


A good portion of that distaste was probably due to the fact that I didn't really have any idea on how to do my hair, or makeup, or a knowledge of the fact that eyebrows need plucking (regularly, not just every now and again), or any indication that those things would do me any good, ever. I felt weird being dressed like a lady, because I was rocking a pretty mannish look.

I had a few brief years in my mid-twenties, my self-described "priss" years, when I tried (with little success) to pull off the lady look (hey, we're all trying to get laid), and again, felt like I was lying to the world about my true nature. So, I went back to my world of few showers, and half-assed attempts at hairdos and makeup, which again, has only ever felt marginally successful. I mean, if you look like a manchild (I would like to thank an old boyfriend of mine who told me that when I pulled my hair back I looked like Marlon Brando, and not the sexy, young Marlon Brando, but old, fat, gross Marlon Brando for this particular bit of self-loathing) what good does it ultimately do to add a little mascara? I mean, I managed to wrangle a husband, so being a lady isn't that important, right?

Then I cut my hair. Off. Like WAAAAY off. And not like that time when I let Vegor cut my hair with the clippers (God, what a horrible, horrible time that was), but in a short little adorable pixie cut. And guess what? I look like an em-effing lady! I kind of don't know what to do with myself. I feel prissy and pretty and like a damn girl. I have been thinking about moving into a world where high-heels are a regular feature. I eat my food in tiny bites. I think I might even have a little bit (a teensytinsyweebit) of grace. Who knew? Samson is my antihero. I'm thinking of career paths where being a lady is encouraged. Basically, I don't know what to do with myself. So, ladies, what is it exactly that I'm supposed to do?

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And then there was a hot sex explosion in my ear...

This is my favorite song from Dirty Projectors' "Bitte Orca". If you aren't listening to this right now, you are a crazy person. The obsession I have for this album is a little over the top right now. This is the most brilliant thing I have listened to in a long, long time. And I'm really, really pissed that I didn't grab this album back in June when it was released (or before, as I'm wont to do...) Oh, eargasm, you're my favorite bit of physical release.

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I told you I was bored.

***there should be a general disclaimer about all posts here that they are very rarely read a second time over for misspellings, grammar problems, general lack of cohesiveness, overall poor writing, etc. consider this a warning***

I've been thinking a lot about identity and how we display ourselves in relation to how we want to be perceived. I am usually at the ready to call bullshit on other people's actions, armed with a certainty of the lack of authenticity I am convinced you don't have. I am reticent to use the term poseur, as I think it brings to mind some type of authentic experience that actually exists--that there is some type of essential quality one could attain if they were doing cool-thing A before everyone else, or giving up on uncool-thing D while everyone else was still tricked into its coolness. No, there are no poseurs, but there are a hell of a lot of posture-ers. 

One's identity can be easily displayed using a variety of cultural markers, available in abundance in our consumer driven society. I can let you know exactly the kind of person I am by way of my choices in fashion, media, home decor, intellectual pursuits, food, and even the words I speak. Our quick acceptance of these markers as identity quickly leads to an overwhelming amount of posturing as people strive to cultivate the "coolest" possible personality, at best, claiming authenticity in the least authentic ways possible.

This is why the people I love generally fall into two categories: assholes and sweethearts. I find that people who fall into these categories tend to be the most authentic people around. I should note that the two categories are not mutually exclusive, in fact, it is often the case that the biggest assholes are also the biggest sweethearts. In my experience, these people are pretty unapologetic about their identities. They accept and embrace who they are, and generally don't give a damn whether or not you think they are cool. There is little care given to whether their favorite band is too mainstream, or if the books they read are intellectually challenging enough, in fact, their personalities usually have little to do with what they consume. (I understand that I'm somewhat conflating the terms personality and identity. For the sake of this little nugget o' wisdom, let's call personality the way in which other people perceive our identity. How's that? It might not be true, but it's certainly the way I'm applying it here.)

I'm not going to delineate what makes someone an asshole or a sweetheart, as it defeats the point. It's kind of like being a good Buddhist, or existentialist. The minute you claim to be an existentialist, or to know Zen, you've totally lost it anyway. Maybe they are best understood by what they are not. An asshole is not a dick (duh). A dick is the kind of person that fancies herself as an asshole, so they are insensitive, rude, and brutish on purpose (though it may have seeped into what they do so much they may not recognize it as a conscious effort). Assholes are accidentally insensitive, rude, brutish, etc., and would feel bad if they realized they were causing harm (hence their sweetheart core). Similarly, sweethearts are not phonies. There are plenty of people in this world who will do good things because they are supposed to, or they feel someone is watching, or they are storing up treasures in heaven (really??), basically, they aren't bad people, I'm sure plenty of them are very nice, but you know if you turned your back or there wasn't some rule or law or social contrivance keeping them from being selfish and mean, they would. Sweethearts generally do good things because that's how they feel like acting. They don't stop themselves from being selfish and mean because they are supposed to, they are just not selfish or mean. 

It's so satisfying to be around people who don't seem to be concerned with the way others perceive them (in a genuine way, not in the hyper-self-aware non-chalant cool that seems to pass as people "not caring"), or who are completely up front about being concerned (something about a willingness to be vulnerable about things that most people feel, but aren't honest enough to be up front about is incredibly endearing to me). So here's to you my friends, assholes and sweethearts: the best people on this lonely old rock. 

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A new obsession

Yeah, I'm incredibly bored right now, so there may be a glut of posts about mundane things. Fair warning.

Last night after Jenny Lewis/Bon Iver, (Jenny: amazing. Bon Iver, which I will continue to pronounce "bahn eyevurr" and not the pretentious sounding "bone eevehr", left me not entirely satisfied. Possibly the fact that the reverb was turned up WAAAAY too high, or the fact that he was just kind of boring on stage. His music is great, but, live? meh...) my friend Bird  and I stopped by the grossly over-priced Whole Foods for some chow. I picked up more vegan treats than I knew what to do with (other than overindulge). I scarfed down a Rice Dream mint cookie ice cream bar (delicious), but tried to savor every damn bite of this yogurt. My. God. I'm kind of picky about yogurt (and I despise soy yogurt), and this exceeded every one of my expectations. It's not as sour as most yogurts, and tastes kind of pudding-y. Seriously, I could eat this by the vat. I would gladly drown in this. It's bitchass expensive (at least at Whole Foods. 2 bucks for a thing of yogurt? Seriously? Suck it, WF.) but as a little indulgence, worth every penny, whether you're a vegan or not.

Speaking of which, I know that my weird food issues cause me to change my diet fortnightly, but every time I go vegan (and there have been quite a few), I feel really good, and that is certainly the case this time. I'm hoping I can be a bit more consistent. I've been making some delicious vegan fare (sweet potato/black bean burritos that the non-vegan husby declared "maybe the best burrito I've ever had") and am hoping to keep the cooking thing up. So, if you want me to make you a delicious vegan dish, I'd be glad to. But only if you bring me some of this yogurt.

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All I want in life...

a domestic hippo to raise my many puppies. I really wish I weren't such a sap for overly cute things, but alas, my bad-ass cred disappears in the face of puppies and hippos.

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