Stealing the General's Chicken

I could look up a recipe, go to the grocery store, gather the ingredients and cook a new meal every day of my life. That's what I miss most about having an income--not shopping without guilt, or going to the bars, but grocery shopping. Fortunately, I've been able to heat up and enjoy the delicious leftovers I've kept in my freezer the past few months, without spending a dime.

Tonight, though, I marched off to the grocery store in a huff of frustration at the state of my various job applications in pursuit off something else...several days ago, I'd decided to make General Tso's Chicken. I found a recipe that people raved about and followed it with a mathematical precision, as I'd never cooked General Tso's Chicken before, or any Chinese food for that matter. Nor had I ever deep fried anything. I was scared--I feared I would end up at the hospital with burns over most of my body, but, alas, I somehow managed to pull the whole thing off without a hitch. All I have to say is that I sincerely wish that deep frying wasn't so unhealthy, because, not only is fried chicken obviously delicious, but it's delightfully fun to make. It recently dawned on me that cooking is a science, and I've become even more fascinated with it since I've begun to think of it in that manner. Why does the batter fry instantly after it's dropped into the oil? And why does it become hard so quickly? And the sauce, the disgusting, brown sludge that I poured into the pan, what makes it thicken and glaze so beautifully, and so suddenly? I stood over it thinking, after a few minutes, "this is never going to work," and turned around to put some dishes into the sink. When I turned back five seconds later, the sludge had transformed!

Cooking is magic. And what I love most about it is that I'm just getting started. I'm fascinated by the basic elements, and I've barely even scratched the surface. I am reading Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl, former restaurant reviewer for the NYT, and the meals she describes are like none I could ever dream of. I'm proud of myself for going without a recipe every once in awhile, but I can only dream of creating something restaurant worthy.

The World Is My Burrito

If you have not already heard--and please don't feel sorry for me--I lost my job about a month ago. There are lots of other opportunities out there that are much better suited to me. I think I hate telling people that I lost my job more so than I hated losing my job, because, honestly, I really don't really feel like I "lost" anything at all. I felt like such an outsider everyday that I spent there--I can't remember one time when I felt passionate about the work that I did, and when I watched others get into heated arguments (it happened frequently) about our material, I inevitably found myself standing there, head cocked curiously to the side, wondering "why do you care so much?"

However, I wish people would stop asking me what "field" I'm in, what "type" of work I do. I've only been out of school for a year, and I don't want to continue doing the type of work that I've been doing. Wouldn't it be awful if you had only one shot?

I may not have solid career goals, but I know what I like. And what I don't like. And my qualities, as they may or may not relate to the workplace. I enjoy people. I enjoy asking questions, but I don't like to be questioned myself--at least not overtly, in a confrontational manner, and, believe me, this is where people generally fail. Asking questions is an art, and subtlety must be practiced. When conversing, my mind is always one step ahead. Instead of asking subtle questions, I subtly steer the conversation in the direction I want it to go. In the right situation, I love talking about myself. And I'm good at talking. When necessary, I can be delightfully entertaining, and I never allow an awkward silence to last for more than a few beats.

I hate the 9-5 lifestyle, I hate getting up for work, I hate the commute. I hate sitting behind the same desk everyday, going to the same meeting everyday. Living like that sucked the creativity out of me, kind of like this Diet Coke I'm drinking is sucking the calcium out of my bones. I felt like the walking dead. I used to lay awake at night thinking of new projects, and I tackled most of them full on. Sure, some fell by the wayside, or just never got started, but at least I cared enough about them to regret it. Now, I just come home and stare at the TV for five hours before falling asleep and most nights I wish I could just stay asleep forever. I don't mean that in some emo, suicidal way...it's just that I care so little about anything I've done in the past year that I might as well have been sleeping.

I think the best ideas are born through conversation, preferably around good music, good food and drinks. I love writing. I love reading too, but, I probably love writing more. And I'm good at it. I love cooking. I love learning about food. I love baking. I love the science behind it. In fact, if they had taught that in chemistry, I probably would have retained some of that information.

Most of all, I love traveling.

I don't want to just read about things--I want to see them for myself. Even about the most exciting events, I don't read news reports about them, or biographies of the key players. I read autobiographies of people who were there. Because if I can't be there myself, the next best thing is to hear about it from someone who was. It's obvious to me now that I was born to be a writer--a journalist. I'm just trying to figure out how to do that. Please bear with me.