Month: April 2012

Post #48: Pancakes

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  I am writing an Annual Report. And at the moment, it sometimes feels as though I’m not even present in my own life, but I’m achieving things, so it all evens out. Happy days! I eat pretty poorly when I am flat chat, so thank christ for Food Dates with the Canadian! Otherwise all of the pictures below would feature pancakes and poppy-seed bagels. So here’s my week in food: When I can’t decide what to make for dinner (or I just can’t be arsed), I opt for pancakes. Currently, we’re on a Krusteaz Blueberry craze. And they taste so much better when you add food coloring. If I had my way, I’d eat breakfast for all my meals. And, yes, I am six years old. Tasty Wasabi Tofu Curry with a side of black rice from my new local, the Unicorn. If I were all about using ridonkulous words, ‘amazeballs’ would be my word of choice for this dish. But I am not, and I don’t. So it’s just damn tasty. YUM! Last …

Post #47: This Is Hardcore.

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  Last night, the American and I went to see Pulp at the Warfield. I’d never been to the venue before, and it’s a little bigger than the Enmore Theatre in Sydney and a little more run down. Just the way I like it. I was a Pulp fan as a teen, growing up awkward in suburban Sydney. And seeing them live was pure and heavenly and indescribable. Here’s a review of the gig, because I can only use superlatives right now (and that can get a little tiresome). The vibe in the Warfield was incredible, and I consciously soaked up every moment of the gig. Pulp sounded amazing live. And Jarvis Cocker? YES. My memories evoke a physical sensation on my skin, and the closest I have ever come to feeling it in real life is swimming in a geothermal pool. I spent much of last night feeling that same sensation. Whenever I hear ‘Disco 2000’, it takes me back to 1995/1996. It’s such a trip to have a memory bank from that long …

Post #46: Friendship

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A friend of mine is having a pretty tough time right now. She could have cancelled our plans to meet up for drinks on Friday night, but she didn’t. Instead, we found this small, quiet downtown bar and set about dissecting the problem and weighing up the options. I really felt for her. There have been plenty of times when I have been in her shoes, and everything looks so dire. And no doubt there will be plenty more. I was just happy she stuck around to talk to me about it. On my way to meet her, I had just finished a section on shame in Dr Brene Brown’s book ‘The Gifts of Imperfection’. These words were bouncing around my head, and then she said the magic words: ‘I’m just so embarrassed’. According to Dr Brown, Shame needs three things to grow out of control in our lives: secrecy, silence, and judgement. When something shaming happens and we keep it locked up, it festers and grows. It consumes us… Shame loses its power when …

Post #45: I Love Trader Joe’s!

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Where the American and I live in San Francisco, it’s much easier to buy a Coach handbag than it is to buy groceries. And in most of the cities we have lived in, we’ve lived downtown. Buying groceries was never a problem, because there were plenty of supermarkets in the downtown area to supply the urban crowd. Even in provincial Ireland. But that’s not the case in San Francisco, and is the biggest drawback to living where we do. [Source: Trader Joe’s] Most of our shopping is done at the local Walgreen’s or independent markets/corner shops. We have a mini-Safeway about a mile down the hill, and had a ridiculously expensive independent supermarket about ten blocks away up the hill until recently. Cala Foods closed for good over the New Year period, and in June, Trader Joe’s will be opening up in its place. HURRAH! In the hierarchy of local supermarkets in the Bay Area, I’d rate Trader Joe’s well above average. Some say it’s very yuppie, but it’s no Whole Foods. Shopping at Whole …

Post #44: Thunder and Lightning

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I feel so serene. We just had a most amazing thunderstorm here in San Francisco. We usually get regular old rain, so a thunderstorm is really rare. A welcome change. [Source] We switched everything off to watch the sheets of lightning illuminate the buildings, with its low, rolling accompaniment. We watched the rain splatter and slide down our windows. We talked. Listened to Royksopp. Spent some it it dancing in the dark. Embraced the moment. And it felt great. Real. I used to enjoy watching storms do that all the time at home. Sydney has some of the most amazing storms. So active and highly entertaining. I love their rejuvenating nature: they cleanse our environment, allowing us to start afresh. I never knew I missed that about home until now. [Source] *** Welcome to the forty-fourth post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012. Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone. If you …

Post #43: Madame Bovary is an Unfeeling, Vulgar Harlot

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Welcome to the forty-third post of the Great Writing Challenge of 2012. Five days a week for six months, I will be given a topic to write about. The stipulation: it must be 250 words (or more), and positive in tone. If you would like to suggest topics for me to write about, please email me at TheRebeccaProject [at] gmail [dot] com. A few years ago, I decided to commit myself to ploughing through the ‘classics’, becoming familiar with authors with whom I was not well acquainted, and those I was well acquainted with and detested when I was at school: the ever-expanding list authors such as Dickens, Austen, the Brontes, Oscar Wilde, Goethe, H G Wells, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Hemingway. So far, the project has been serving me well. That was until I started Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. The title character and I do not have a good relationship: Madame Bovary is an unfeeling, vulgar harlot. I despise her so much, and spent the entire book wishing harm to come to her. With …