Book Blurred Vision

As if I've been drinking, every word I type is doubled-- like there's a mirror image just underneath every single letter. Have I been drinking? you ask. I reply no. Although I'm sure alcohol is absolutely titillating for some, it really has never called my name.

So what is it exactly that has blurred my vision? Only the few, the proud, and the nerdy can truly know what I'm talking about here. I call it "Book Blurred Vision."

Allow me to backtrack in order to defend myself. My life is careening constantly toward chaos (note the alliteration. Thank you. I hope that last period I typed was really a period and not a comma because I can't tell). I'm exhausted by all of the things I have to do! However, I strangely love it. Snuggly holding me together like my best pair of skinnies, my busy life is actually my best friend. I wouldn't be happy without it.

But I can't always be busy. I'm wearing down. The slight tickle/pain in my throat is a warning of impending doom-- or just a virus, if you prefer me to be non-melodramatic. So today, on this lovely president's day, I did nothing. Nothing, that is, but read a book. Was it for school? Oh no friends. It was a book about werewolves... and it was lovely. It was sad, sweet, tender even. And I enjoyed her writing style and how it changed when she changed the voice as a rhetorical device.

Yes, it was young adult. But for all of you shaking your heads at me, I pose a question: Why would my University bother to require a young adult fiction class if they were worthless? It wouldn't. Therefore, day well spent. I just can't see at the moment. Please excuse any typos.

For a Friend

I have had a few requests for this magical cookie recipe. It's true, after this many cookies it should be a little above par. If you'll all forgive me, I must admit that these are my favorite cookies ever. I realize that seems a little strange to say about my own cookies but I can't help myself. It is just one of the forces that moves me to make more all of the time. As I'm walking home from school, on a very regular basis, I crave these daggum cookies.

So here you are:
3/4 c brown sugar
3/4 c sugar
2 3/4 c flour (add more if your cookies turn out semi-flat)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp vanilla (real vanilla is better but more expensive, fyi)

2 sticks of butter
2 large eggs
Guittard milk chocolate chips (this is very important, don't skimp on the chips, these are the best chocolate chips I've ever had)
Reeses peanut butter chips (I've never tried generic, good luck if you so choose to sojourn down that course)

Heat oven to 375. Mix sugars and butter. Add in vanilla and eggs. Mix dry ingredients, I usually do flour last. THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: Add the chocolate and peanut butter chips to your heart's content. I always believe in very, very fair amounts of peanut butter chips. Scoop small amounts out with a spoon and roll into balls (only if you want shapely cookies, of course). Bake a dozen at a time for no longer than nine minutes. Depending on your oven you may want to bake for less time but I highly discourage baking them longer. That is, unless you're a crunchy cookie person. In which case you probably wouldn't like my cookies- it's the gooier the better for me.

Happy baking my friends! Now I really need to get on to new recipes.

The Disastrous Dabbling Poet

There are days when I realize I love school. I never want to leave! And then I see the tuition check went through my bank account or two books cost more money than my car (okay, I exaggerate, nothing could cost more than my car).

Where else can you sit and laugh as you discuss literature and poetry with people who actually know somewhat of what they're spouting off about? I love it.

Today I discovered a veritable genius among poets. Marianne Moore's poem Poetry has left me feeling inspired to write some. And yes, I do dabble in poetry (when I use the word dabble feel free to imagine me snubbing all of you as I pretend to be superior with my dabbling habits, just realize I'm kidding). I write a fairly crappy poem usually twice a week and bravely put it online for the world to see. Occasionally, I write poetry and store it on my computer, never to be seen by human eyes- that means it's really crappy. Or really sentimental, I don't believe anyone needs to see those.

(Doesn't she just look awesome?)

But when I say she inspires me to write some, I mean she inspires me to write good poetry; to experiment with lines and structure and to know exactly why I use each word and each break. Wish me luck and read Marianne Moore.

By the way, her poem Poetry is where my blog title comes from, if you wanted to know.

Originality and Creativity

Friends, I am on the hunt for a name for my blog. I believe certain friends or family members of mine think that my blog's title is boring. Let me just defend myself by saying I wasn't planning on becoming a blogger when I began. But now that I'm in it I think I need to throw myself a bone and try not to look so lame.

I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this post is because if I'm trying to be original I have to come up with the name on my own. Don't worry, it'll be brilliant when I do.

Good Ideas

Note to self: peanut butter chips with chocolate chips = success.
Also: DO NOT EVER bake longer than nine minutes.
One more thing: less sugar and more vanilla. And it is okay to be picky about real vanilla vs. the fake junk.
Self, this has been noted.

Why Do I Bother?

I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning to read my Spanish textbook so as not to bomb a ten-point quiz in class at eight. (The crack of dawn translates to 5:45 in my mind.) My professor then proceeded to give us time in class to study before he administered said quiz. It was only after this fifteen minute time period had ended and the quiz had begun that I realized I read the wrong section. I still managed an 80%. How do I feel about this? Perplexed. And tired.

Embarrassing Confession

I have never endeavored to understand the obsession and recent boom of teeny-bopper hits such as High School Musical and its sequels which, in sheer number, are starting to carry a slight resemblance to all of the The Land Before Time sequels. I wonder to myself,  "How many years can these kids possibly be in high school?"

But this weekend I had a fit of guilty pleasures and ended up getting Cafe Rio as takeout and eating it at home while I watched a cheap RedBox flick (which has turned out to not be so cheap since I still haven't returned it. ___ RedBox. Insert your own expletive or curse as you so choose for the ____. I swear by blanks.). Are you dying to know what movie I chose to entertain myself with this weekend? Was it intellectually stimulating? Since my opening talks about teeny-bopper hits and dinosaur cartoons from however many years ago a good guess is probably, uh, "no."

I don't know why I publish these things to the world but I'm going to tell you anyway. 17 Again. I hope you can read that because I won't say it again. More embarrassing though was how much I loved it. I pride myself on enjoying the aforementioned intellectually stimulating entertainment options. Give me 1984 over Twilight and Blood Diamond over Trendy-Predictable-Chick-Romance-Crap. But sometimes I enjoy a good vampire drama, every once in awhile Notting Hill makes me cry, and occasionally I like Zac Efron movies. I purposefully did not look up how to spell his name. I hope I wrote it wrong. Because the most embarrassing part of all of this is the sad cougar-crush I have developed on this barely-graduated teenage icon. Ugh.

I was going to include a picture of him with his shirt half-off but it felt a little like child porn.