A Plead for Normal's sake.

hello hello helllloooo,

I think this might be the first blog that im writing to you in particular, whoever is reading this. As of late, nearly every single one of my posts has prompted the "Are you okay?" 's, the " I read your blog, you sound sad" or the "lets talk about it".

People pleeeease.

Please dont think that for one minute I dont appreciate the concern because I do but honestly. . .

This is life.

Sometimes you feel bad an sometimes you feel great. I use this blog as a place to rant and rave about whatever I feel like. Its your decision to read it. Please dont think that I dont want you to read it because I obviously do but take what I say with a grain of salt.

Arguments- happen. Bad days - Happen.

Your allowed to feel sad sometimes and happy others and just plain bananas if thats how you feel.

Life.Goes.On.

I havent changed who I am and if I had been writing a blog like this three years ago im sure it would sound very similar.

So please dont be concerned when you read these entries. I dont want to stop writing or have to get a new blog or sensor the things I write about because I know ill get a back lash from people.

I'm Fine.

Im cruising the path of life right now whatever bumps and bruises I get along the way ARE OKAY.

Trust me. If I really need help, the people who are near and dear to my heart will hear about it.

I believe in myself to get said self through.

I believe even more strongly in my family and friends who will be there for me when I cant.

Cammon y'all lets just have a good time. So unless I call crying or post something outright insane. . . im okay. okay enough to write about it and share it.

trust me

Choose the Choice of Choosing ( Vitamin D-lightful )

Im pretty interested in right now.

im sitting in bed, lap top on lap. Bottom of my jaw sticking out a little, lips pouting and shifting my squinty eyes side to side.

Im thinking. pondering. I am trying to choose my choice.

lets kick it one time shall we?

Sooo last night wasnt great. this morning things were a little better. A heat wave has struck Southern California and unlike my usual october months back home, I find myself sitting in a tshirt and shorts, my skin slightly damp with sweat. Now, I finished my midterm on tuesday for the class i have on tuesday and thursday so I have today off. . . It is a Gorgeous day outside and im in here moping. . .

BUTTTTT. . . . I could just as easily not mope about. . . right?

Its my choice. MY choice. and frankly I dont feel like wasting this day. . . I could so easier do it. throw a movie on a ignore the world. . . orrr. . .

woah woah hold on.

amazing.

as if some que from a movie had happened, the highschool marching band down the street strikes up a tune.

making every move I make EPIC.

I walk inside, have my halfcupofcoffee poop (* okay lets not be bashful here we all have them ) and strut back outside to finish my other half cup of coffee, finish off my morning bowl and decide to choose.

I choooose to be happy. Arguments happen. fact. But im not going to let it ruin my day. how insulting is that to a gorgeous day? Some people dont even HAVE another day. some people are Inside BEGGING to be outside. Who am I do turn down a day like today or any day really? I've been given another day. wow.

*Que epic music high point.

you know what. im gonna hang out for a little while and enjoy bed (*its only 8am so i am validating that.) and then, whenever i feel like it. im gonna slather on my second skin (SPF 30 or higher. who are we kidding here) pack a bag and bike to the beach. im gonna bring a towel and my book and a ten dollar bill and see what adventure I end up with.

I choose to be happier.

what choice are you choosing to choose?

Dark chocolate problems with a Lemon Zinger

A week ago I could have been institutionalized. I looked the part.

The kitchen is a mess - Bowls and cups and spoons lay scattered and abandoned on one side looking like a cooking pantry monster the size of Godzilla (*well proportionately to a spoon of course) just lay waste to them,cream cheese, flour, sugar, eggs, cocoa powder, baking soda and powder all thrown like a tornado had hit.

a mixer on the counter with lemon cup cake batter in it, sitting patiently to be poured and baked

while I stood there trying not to cry, in my "attract the lads" attire - ie. sweatpants and bruce springsteen T.

The brownies i had taken out of the oven, where ruining me. I cant put it more plainly than that. thinking about the ordeal now makes me debate about getting a little drink before I go on.

First off, they didn't look as good as i wanted. with hopes of creating the look of marbled cream cheese into top of the brownies but with no recipe, I relied on my cunning wit and problem solving skills to make it happen. - mistake #1.

First of all, when you do that marbling effect, you have the dark and the white batters together and then take a tooth pick and drag it up and down your goo in lines going alternate directions.

Well see an important piece of that puzzle is that the two goos have to be of the same consistency or else you'll have an awful go at it. - that right there? mistake #2.

So with what was supposed to be an elegant looking "oh my miss may how did you do that?" turned into " Ah crap. ms may whhhyyyy did you dooo thhhhaaattt?!"

my lines looked just like this -> /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\. Blarg.

But I decided that once I baked it, I would just cut them diagonally and then use the mistake as a sort of chic looking design and absolutely not some covered up mistake. . .

After taking them out of the oven, I feel the top, okay we want fudgey and its still soft so

"Weeee haaave FUDDDDGGGGEYYYYY!" ( I said out loud to myself in my best Oprah voice)

*flip the pan and try to take them out.*

jiggle jiggle jiggle

Jiggly Jiggle Jiggle

Aggressively Jiggle

Okkkkkay no problem-o they are just stuck to the pan. ill cut around the edges and pop goes the weasel, they should be out.

after cutting the edges of my brownies with surgical like skills, i grab both ends of the parchment paper underneath and begin lifting the brownies out of the pan and onto the counter. (Mistake #3) And then it happened.

slowly I saw them. Fissures cracking and splitting my master piece ( well mostly masterpiece). Inside them i could see what every baker dreads. goo. wet.goo.

*PaNiC*

I would say that the brownies were about 75% cooked maybe even 80% baked but unfortunately. that doesn't cut it.

I talk to myself while i'm baking and the next few minutes went something like this:

no

no

no

NO

NO

NO!

Are you kidding me?

are you serious right now?!

COMMON! WHAT THE EFF IS YOUR PROBLEM BROWNIES?!

wwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

no non ononononononononono

*outraged cry*

- at this point to put something back in the oven would be kind of redundant. they will not reach the optimal baking temp again and especially since they have been removed and partially cooled.

But I had to try.

While I was letting the brownies cool before starting on this adventure, I had filled the cupcake tins with the lemon cupcakes (*Also a new recipe i was trying) and had put them in the oven. So I popped the door open and threw the brownies back in. looking somewhat like the grand canyon from a topical map. only made with dark chocolate and espresso.

The timer for the cupcakes goes off and they look heavenly. little lemon angels perfectly shaped and perfectly springy and over all awesome.

brownies still look like goo.

It feels like days are going by as I stair into the oven willing the brownies to magically fix themselves. Time passes until I think to myself that I might as well take them out and salvage what I can out of them before I have burnt sides.

I take them out and to my relief, they look . . . less. . . gooey.

while staring at the pan I figure out that logically, these are going to be hideous anyway I cut them.

Any way I cut them. . . cut them cut them cut them. . . Lightbulb.

I scour the kitchen that isn't mine and clearly inhibited by only men until I find it. A Shot glass.

looking at my mess of dark chocolate espresso brownies, I gulp and hold my breath.

Flipping the shot glass over, I used the open end to cut out little circles of brownie.

Oh. mah. gawd. Its working. . . I began popping out these little baby bite size brownies ...that didn't look half bad! Sweet baby cheeses this might just save me.

after an hour of painstakingly cutting out little brownie circles and i'll admit it, frankenstein-ing some pieces together. I had a batch of brownies.

I whipped up a quick cream cheese frosting for the cupcakes, packed the fail proof dip that I made earlier and headed off to the party.

Upon my arrival, I set up my dip in a nice bowl, my brownies on a cute plate. I iced my cupcakes and threw a few little yellow sprinkles on top. turning around with my cupcakes, I see another women walking in, plate in hand. of cupcakes.

Lemon cupcakes.

we look at each other and at our competition cakes.

Oh lady IT IS ON. I said with my eyes as I smiled sweetly. somehow that came out as "those look great!"

We set them side by side and she looked at me. half joking and half threatening "well, I guess we'll just have to leave it to the ladies and have a taste test now wont we?"

those words in the baking world mean war. it might as well have been two french men deciding to duel asking "Pistols or swords"

"yes I guess we will" I smiled.

This women had what I would call "the grandma's advantage" in that she was older. Which through the laws of delicious cooking generally means that she should have the upper hand, for grandmas are usually the master of tasty treats.

"OH MY GOD WHAT ARE THESE PIECES OF HEAVEN?!" someone shrieked behind me.

I turned to see a gaggle of women surrounding the food like hens on corn kernels.

"IN-(a word that rhymes with Buck)-ING-CREDIBLE." said another.

the cause of the commotion - my brownies.

*Sigh* ^_^

at the end of the night I left, my plate of brownies empty accept for the crumbs and people asking me to make them for the next party, one lady even offering to pay me to make more.

My plate of cupcakes were significantly lower in numbers too that of my competition.

I walked slowly and calmly to the bathroom.

Locked the door.

And threw down the more outrageous victory dance the NFL has never seen.

come sit with me my darling my darling,

come sit with me in the rain.

and let the rain wash over you charming,

whispers of home once again.

my feet are wet dear sweetheart dear sweetheart

dry earth begins to sigh.

soft raindrops kissing my toes in the grass

and a happier lady am I.

come sit with me my darling my darling,

come sit with me in the rain.

and let the rain wash over you charming,

whispers of home again.

leap in the puddles my honey my honey

lift your arms to the sky

twirl all about, dance and shout

face covered in kisses from up high.

I stand in the rain my love O my love,

clothes soaked clear through to the bone

a smile sits, on little lips

and I feel not quite so alone.

Come sit with me my darling my darling,

come sit with me in the rain.

and let the rain wash over you charming,

whispers of home again.

Stranded.

I feel like a hostage.

my car is broken. Which I admit makes me sound like every SoCal princess on the block but seriously. I do.

long story short, a ladder fell off the back of some *curse word*'s truck because the moron clearly didn't know how to properly tie down something that is basically only a structure with a zillion different possibilities of how to . . . sorry angry rampage. must quell...urge...to...pull out...hair.

Sooo as this thing comes hurdling down the freeway, I foresee the trajectory going riiiight threw my windshield and possibly through my frontal lobe.

My heart is in my throat as luckily my beast of a car pounces on the stupid ladder like a lioness on prey.

Seeing as my car is old, well go with " pounces on the stupid ladder like a grandma wearin slippers would pounce on rice pudding" even though i've always fancied Chocolate.

I digress.

So now, once again. I am virtually a hostage. In a place that I could scarcely figure my way around in as is.

Once again i've had to resort to begging for rides to school. Missing one class can be means of dismissal im told. weeellllll I cant do much about this one. I've called in my favours and even asked friends of friends.

Seems like everyone has things to do and there own lives to attend to (*The nerve. ok I joke)

This past weekend included a little chunk of crying. Okay a decent sized chunk of crying. I've felt since moving down here that, although I know that I did it for the right reasons, I've never felt so alone. With him working everyday and sometimes on the weekends, I'm virtually left alone most of the time. Not that I can't entertain myself but in a place that isn't as safe as home, with no mode of transportation or frankly any destination to get to and almost no friends at all. . . Its a loneliness that i've never felt before.

Far from the people and places that I love. If home is where the heart is, I dont think i'll be home again for a long long time.

16 oz to a pound where you need 40 oz to freedom

Sitting in class. Bakers percentages. fabulous - math - my favourite.

Barf.

surprisingly though I am understanding this. if flour is 100% of a recipe and water is 70 yadda yadda yadda.

solve for sugar.

Giraffe is 100% and camel is 70% solve for monkey.

but I actually get it. I can solve monkey for once!

One of the girls in the class is lost. utterly lost and I am sitting listening to the chef write on the board in his funny version of english how to come up with the cost per oz when its given in pounds.

His explanation is met with blank stairs. Everyone starts talking at once trying to figure out what in the flippin dyna he is talking about.

Sitting in the front row I stick my hand up.

Everyone is talking so as the rules of third grade classes go. even if your quiet with your hand up and everyone else is talking its pretty redundant. Im basically holding a paper umberella in a storm.

In third grade fashion I stick my hand up farther. bite my lip and stretch my fingers to the sky.

I lean over and put my other arm behind the first for support.

I sing loudly "UUUUuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhh ccccchhhhhheeeeeffffffffffff cammmmoooonnn!!!! I can explain this better!!! I knooooow what to doooo"

silence.

the chef blinks at me and offers me a marker for the white board.

in his french accent he says "Okay ms smit, you think you can explain it to her better in a way she will understand?"

gulp.

all of a sudden I feel like im on stage alone and this giant spot light just Zooms down onmy face.

"yeah I think I can"

I stood up and walked to the board.

I looked straight into the girls eyes who had the most trouble of all and I began.

Hokay marci lets do this, we know that we need 4 oz of yeast right?

right

now if we know that there are 16 oz to a pound, that makes 4 oz what?

*Blank stair*

okay that makes one quarter right? 4+4+4+4 = 16

okay yeah!

okay cool so in decimal form a quarter is ... .25 just like money

ohhhhhh

so then .25 is exactly the same as 4 oz but now we have it in pound form. the cost is 1$ per pound and we need .25 which makes it. . . 25 cents. see?

Yeah yeah i get it!

"okay mizz smit another. Sugar this time"

no prob bob. (*chef was surpised by this answer. )

Okay marci lets do this again. we KNOW that 4 oz is . . .

a quarter, .25

Exactly and since we need 8 oz and we are all smart people in this room, we all know that 8 oz to a 16 oz pound is. . .

Half a pound! .5 ! aaaaaahhhhhhh im getting it! see chef! she explained it perfectly thats what I needed! I get it now! oh my goodnesssssss

YES! ^_^

so we laughed and did the math on the board and I sat down.

Later on in class, During a demo, a man in my class comes up to me. He is atleast a foot taller than me. Black as black and missing a gang on teeth in his mouth. He nudged me.

Oh Hi Phillip how are you?! (*this man is wonderful, so nice and i really really enjoy talking to him)

Im goood im goood, you know that math you did today? that was really good, I mean I actually understood it, i had no idea what i was doin before but you explained it real good. you shoulda been a teacher.

Thanks phillip

I like liking school and doing well. I realize now that I am as smart as my parents told me. All that "you have so much potential " talk i got from teachers that I brushed off and didnt listen to. . . Its a shame it took me all of highschool and a wasted first college attempt to figure that out.

Its never too late

Katie Baby LA Lady

We were waiting for like ten minutes.

What does his guy think he's doing?

Are you serious? COME ON.

Yes Hellloooo its me. stairing you down.

You know what I want its in view.

this guy had like 5 tables to serve and I sat there and watched him do basically nothing while asking his manager twice to run our drinks. The both decided not to and that was what began the laser beam vison. This beer was sitting out in the open for what seemed like hours, the foamy head of the beer deflating from loneliness.

Finally his eyes meet mine.

Im sitting with my left thumb under my chin. my other fingers are lightly resting on my lower lip.

and theeeeen I raised my eyebrows and stuck my hand from under me. as if to say " UMMMMM HELLO?! what are you doing!?"

worst server ever.

" Jeeeez babe if I didnt know any better i'd say you're getting a little LA in you..."

Yesterday A women in front of me changed lanes in an intersection without signalling causing me to stomp on my breaks so hard that the tires screeched.

I flipped her off.

Good God, what is this city doing to me?