Paragraphs

Well.  I may well be the laziest blogger on the planet.  This is disgraceful.  I have a thousand excuses for not talking at you over the internet for so long, but none of them are very compelling.  So I think I'll just tell you that I was waiting until I had something interesting to say.

Oh, where did we leave off...?  Okay, a few days after my last post, when I still hadn't heard back from NSLI-Y about spending the summer abroad learning a language, my father scanned me a newspaper article advertising this (THANK YOU, Daddy).  It's the same scholarship, but specifically for Maine residents (oh, God, am I a Maine resident?  I'd much prefer to continue to think of myself as visitor after these .... seven years) to go to China.  I sent in the application, kind of on a whim, thinking it would be nice backup for the primary NSLI-Y, about twelve hours before it was due.  On Tuesday night I had a skype interview with a lovely chinese woman who runs some sort of Maine School of Chinese Language and Culture, who kept telling me to break up with my boyfriend without asking if I had one.  It took a while to get a word in and reassure her.  There was also an American woman helping with admissions, and she used to live near my school and I think she approved of me. 

On Wednesday afternoon (oh, my - play-by-play accounts of the week?  No, this will end badly) I got The Email.  The NSLI-Y email. 

"Thank you for applying to the 2011-2012 National Security Language Initiative for Youth (NSLI-Y) programs.  The NSLI-Y team recognizes the time and effort you took to complete your application.  Unfortunately, you were not selected to receive a NSLI-Y Scholarship. "

 None of my friends from Turkey last year were accepted to summer programmes!  It's most unfair, because look at this, which was hidden so sneakily on their FAQ page:

Q: Am I eligible if I have already participated in NSLI-Y?

A:  If you have participated on a summer program and are re-applying for the summer, preference will be given to qualified students who have not previously participated on NSLI-Y. Past summer participants are considered highly competitive for semester- and year-long programs in the same language. If you are accepted and you have been on a NSLI-Y program before, be aware that there is a possibility that you will be placed with a different administering organization and/or in a different country.

Well, whatever, I thought.  We'll all have kickass summers whatever.  I called my dad and let him know, cried a bit, stuff like that.  Then, that evening, my mother rang me up from London and told me that she'd gotten an email from the China scholarship people.  She forwarded said letter (I wish they'd just sent it to me) and... um, well:

 

Congratulations!

We are proud to announce that you have been selected as a finalist to participate in the NSLI-Y  program for study and travel in China during the summer 2011.

So, it's not really necessary to say how excited I am about this - or to be telling you, actually.  I started this blog because I was going to Turkey.  This course is a little different, and I don't know everything about it yet - I didn't actually do much research about the programme before applying, but I think I'll take a couple weeks of intensive Chinese classes here, then hop on a plane and skip around China for six weeks.  The interviewers made it sound like we'd see quite a lot of the country.  I know absolutely no chinese and far too little about the culture - I was sort of Middle East focused - but I'm extremely excited to go there, and I'm taking Chinese at school next year. 

So, Wednesday was a shitty day redeemed to the fullest.  You really should have seen me bounding about the dorms, I was - and am - so excited. 

Um... so, sorry to do this whole chronological thing, but YESTERDAY, guess what happened?  Did I tell you I'm playing softball with the local school's team?  There are three girls playing from my school, and though most of the time I've got no clue what I'm doing, I really enjoy it and the other girls are very nice.  They call me London, and when we pass each other in the hallways they yell it out.  It's very sweet. 

Anyway, yesterday at practice, I kind of took a ball to the head.  We were bunting, and it just bounced off the bat and hit me very neatly in the forehead.  What ensued was, in my opinion, a long and drawn-out chain of overreactions on the part of everyone in authority, because I sat down, started to feel sick and tired and dizzy, and was proclaimed likely to be concussed.  After a while of being incessantly talked to and made to respond (they don't let you fall asleep when things hit your head hard, and that was really all I wanted to do), one of the dorm staff came to insist on taking me to the emergency room.  A very long wait and a long story short, I was extremely mildly concussed, dosed up with a lot of painkillers and anti-anxiety pills the combined effect of which made me feel like I'd been hit on the head again, and sent home almost three hours later.  It was not fun, but sleep was sweet.  I'm not allowed to play any sports for a few days, and I feel so tired still that I might just stay in bed today.  But I hope you'll learn from my mistake.  softball is DEADLY. 

Oh, and this is Day of Silence, isn't it?  I hope blogging doesn't count.  I used to have a big problem with this day - isn't speaking up for gay rights a better way to go about it than remaining voiceless as generations of minorities have?  But I think it's a great way to raise awareness, so I'm participating to the best of my ability, ie, not in classes.  If I go to classes.  Hell, I might just sleep today.  We're going home tomorrow for a lovely long week.  And this week was So un-lovely.  Two tests, two quizzes, an English paper and a GMM (Group Math Major - it's evil, don't ask).  I am unbelievably glad it's almost over. 

Well, that's about all.  I'm going back to sleep, and you should, too.

The Way Life Looks Today

I'm sitting in my food studies class right now, in a lecture on blogging techniques.  What fun.  I know how to do hyperlinks, I know how to embed videos.  Thanks anyway, sir, I needed to work on that English essay.
Pictures!  Because I am a lazy blogger today. 

Sorry I Haven't Posted In A Week...

...off to London tomorrow.  Lots of news soon!

Leave The Makeup On, You Won't Sleep For Long

Killed that math final.  Beat it to the ground.  Crushed it with all the anger and malice I have ever owned, stolen or had thrown at me.  It cowered on its back on the desk before me as I delivered Death by a Thousand Cuts by Pencil upon its sorry body, and it slunk slowly back to the grading pile knowing never again to screw with the God of Logarithms. 

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Now it's late, and I'm luxuriously stretched out on the couch listening to Shakira sing stuff I don't understand because it's in Spanish, and reading Hyperbole and a Half which I don't understand because of its sheer excellence.  "We all know that coconuts smell good, but have you ever seen a coconut burst into flames from sheer excellence?!"  See what I mean?  No?  Well, screw you.  Wait!  No!  I didn't mean that!  You should not go cry in a corner because we read different blogs!  I want you to read me.  Really, I do. 

It's pretty here where I live.  Not quite as snow-smothered as school, but pleasantly shiny and sparkly without being all Oh*censored*ICan'tGetOutOfMyHouse.  Dorm.  Whatever.  I miss my friends.  I miss my freaking chem teacher.  Something's wrong here.  I miss my friends who live here too.  Because one of them had to go to Israel this morning, making my total time allotment with him equal to three hours per two months - we watched Undercover Brother last night and it was great, but now I don't get to hang with him till February.  Which is stupid. 

So, basically, I'm totally exhausted from finals, and I don't want to do anything again, ever.  I will sleep on the couch (my sister has a friend staying, and I somehow volunteered my room for the weekend) forever and be fed.  For twelve whole days.  Then I will go on a plane and live in England for a week or so.  Then I will go to the Library of Congress and be so freaking happy there that I will forget to go home to school.  And one day I'll be all "I miss my friends.  I miss my friends at home.  I miss my freaking chem teacher" and then I'll be all "Screw D.C, I'm going North!" and as soon as I get there I'll regret it because I'll miss Washington, which is a wonderful city where everyone should get to hang out if they're my friend, and hey, this is a run-on, isn't it?

Yesterday I acquired some very exciting sparkly tights I will soon show you, as well as my new-last week neon pink fencenets.  It's all very, very exciting.  I should probably go do something with my legs in a bit so they're still somewhat mini-worthy when I am set loose on London and Washington.  There's this girl at school who's totally gorgeous, makeup obsessed (my maytag model used her huge box of eye stuff on me on the bus yesterday and it was fantastic) and cool, and she lets me take lots and lots of pictures of her and therefore I love her.  Also, she lives directly underneath me and doesn't mind when I do occasionally practice my trombone or clarinet or sax... I don't think she can hear the ukulele.  Anyway, she said to me the other day, on two separate occasions that I had a) great legs and b) a great ass.  You should have seen me prancing around for happiness the moment(s) she was out of sight.  Because she should know.  Anyway, that's sort of what prompted me to buy another mini skirt.  And now I have to be worthy.  Because I love her and I do not want to disappoint her by having a not-great ass.  Also, I'd just like to maintain my apparently-great ass for the sake of having one.  A great one, I mean.

Oh.  I burn things.  I mean, you know I like fire.  But I apparently think destruction thereby is more beautiful than normal people.  I was making cheese biscuits today, because my parents are going to a Christmas party.  I was invited, too, I just didn't want to go.  In case you thought my parents have *censored* friends who don't think I'm cool enough to go to their parties.  Anyway, they came out really prettily.  But my dad was in a hurry, and the last tray wasn't done, so he decided not to wait for them to bake.  He left.  I thought "I have abstained from facebook for two weeks.  Let me go fry my brain."  About forty-five minutes after forgetting the already-almost done cheese biscuits (recipe below), I pulled these out of the oven.  And I think they're beautiful.

They look chocolate, don't they?  Well, they're not.

Okay, I'm going to ring people up or go to sleep or have a hot bath or something now.  Just enjoying not working, but it feels like walking down an escalator and then getting off, and you can't work out why you've lost momentum because your feet are still moving, you know?

Oh, and how about that whole DADT-being-beaten-almost-as-thoroughly-as-my-math-test-though-it-deserved-it-more thing?  Are we happy?  We are so god*censored* happy right now. 





Good If You Don't Burn Them, Pretty If You Do


4 oz soft butter
4 oz grated cheese (any kind - Jarlsberg works nicely)
6 oz flour
Salt
Pepper
Cayenne


Mix it all together until it's sort of a dough.  Roll it /4 inch thick and cut  or form it into logs, refrigerate them and slice them into 1/4 inch-thick coins.  Place the thingies on greased cookie sheets and bake at 350 °F (180°C) for about twenty minutes.  And watch them.  Oh, and you should put a pecan in the middle of each one, if that's what you're into, before you bake them.  Yeah. 

Wake Me Up When It's Over

There's just no hope for me.  You'll never predict me.... I'm just femme fatale all through, you'll never know what's going through my head, you won't hear from me in weeks and then, suddenly, I'll be calling you again, writing to you, because I need you... (Okay, maybe I do want to be Liza Minelli.  What you gonna do 'bout it?)

Not true.  I was actually thinking earlier about what an ironically disappointingly uncomplicated person I am.  But suddenly I want to talk about it.  Or I just want to talk.  Yes, dear, to you.  Doesn't that make you feel wonderful?  No, I'm not just another politician who wants to make your life easier, your tax money go better places, your kids more successful and more likely to kick the *censored* out of the Chinese kids on the future economic playground on which they'll play.  I just want to talk to you.

Hah.  Actually, I have no idea why I suddenly feel like writing again, but I want to write about food.  I was just watching NYTimes thanksgiving recipe videos, and they made me hungry, of course, in such a happy way.   I can't wait to get home.  I can't wait to sit on my friends' couches and talk with their families and eat and drink and feel great.  I can't wait to fight with my family, because it makes me feel so much less alone.  I love living here - it's basically college on training wheels, living in the dorms here - but I am looking forward to a week of being someone's baby again.

But watch me - in an hour I'll have changed my mind.  I just did, after all... food does strange things to me.  I'm really emotionally attached to it.  I wrote this a couple days ago:

I haven't been writing recently, I suppose because I just didn't want to, and because I've had plenty to think about that I can't write about.  I'm also sick of my mother reading this and calling me up and asking me what's going on.  And I feel like a bitch for saying that, but it's true - I don't need my family to know when I'm upset or sick of all this.  They're nearly three hundred miles away.  It can't do any of us any good and I'd rather they didn't get upset. 

I guess I've also had other people to talk to recently.  Internet, you're cool but you don't give much back.  I have friends here, with whom I can actually have a conversation that's not a glitchy facebook chat or a text message.  Again, the internet's great but it's just not good enough.  I want to lie on my bed at home with my friends at home, and talk to them and tell them everything I can't tell people here, just because we all live together and it would all get out.  I can't wait for this week to be over.  Friday's my birthday - there are so many November birthdays here - and then we go home for a week.  I won't have to remind myself to eat.  I will fight with my family and be happy because it'll be normal, and I won't have to feel guilty about withholding information from people and I won't have to be a diplomat quite so much.  I just want to go back to what's familiar and be loved in a totally un-novel fashion. 

And I have been too tired.  I can't make myself go to sleep and I always get up way too early and get nothing done.  I haven't felt well lately - watch this space, a concerned relative is about to call me and call the staff and tell them to check my room for blades (they'd find a big chopping knife, actually, and I'd be screwed if they took that away, because they've opened up the kitchen) - and I've hardly got the drive to be sociable any more, let alone care about schoolwork.  I just do it. 

I've also noticed my heart going crazy every time I eat chocolate. 

Angst.... it's not my line of business, but it's viral here.   Anyway, I am going to forget about things for a little bit starting tomorrow.  I'm going to go home, if that's what it still is, and cook in a kitchen that's not full of people who can't cook and seem to independently support America's entire cake-mix industry.  I'm going to read Siddhartha just because a friend threw me a copy, and I'm not going to get dressed with anyone in particular in mind for a whole week - I might not even get dressed at all. I'm almost ready to leave - my sheets are washed, I know what I'm taking back with me and my fridge is almost empty. 

I've probably mentioned how much Norah Jones I'm listening to at the moment.  I decided to take some pictures and set them to Wake Me Up, though I don't know why.  Actually, I really don't like it when people do that, but I don't care today.  And if you've been reading me for any length of time you'll recognize some of these pictures, so maybe they'll be a little less meaningless.

Anyway, today's my birthday.  It's eight and I just sat up in bed.  I only have one and a half classes today, most of the school is going to see the new Harry Potter film this evening, after a big dinner they're putting on just for me  for the holiday, and I've also got play practice.  Hello, 16.

A Sad Excuse For A Post

Yeah, I know.  It's-been-a-week, what's-Leah-doing-that's-so-important-she-can't-write-three-paragraphs-some-evening, lazy-bitch-blogger, etc.  Not going to talk about how busy I've been, or the weird stuff that's happening, or how I'm still putting off paying that photo money.  But I am going to talk about my new baby.  The one that arrived on Tuesday.  This one. 


We're still getting to know one another, but I have never met a more charming piece of equipment in my life.  It's very gossipy, but so smooth and agreeable that I forgive its intrusiveness in a minute.  It makes me feel... oh, I don't know, besides powerful.  But that's not all.  It makes me feel desirable and sexy and totally wonderful.  Which is shallow and ridiculous.  And it's not as if anyone likes me better for it - it's not that kind of thing.  Okay, I'm going to change the topic now because nobody gets this. 

So, Armistice Day.  We didn't even get a holiday - living at school has its downsides.  Also, no snow days.  Goddamn dorm life.  Oh, well.  So, yeah, cool.  I still really like my new url, but my family has found it, so that's awkward.  I'll be fabricating a few things in the future here.  But you'll be able to tell.

Ah, so much homework!  I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.  Giant chemistry test yesterday that I felt ready for, which probably means I wasn't, and the girl who lives next door has this alarm clock that goes off at three in the afternoon and doesn't stop until she shuts it off after dinner.  Drives me nuts.  Also, they've closed the school kitchen temporarily because people were making such a mess in there.  I'm not saying I wasn't contributing, but I've ended cleaning up a lot of other people's cake projects.  But something nice happened yesterday, I suppose - My group got an A on our math major, and there's a fun one due soon.  I have to research mathematics in African history and culture.  So, perhaps I'll scrape a B in maths this semester.

I'm doing a lot of lying around listening to music, actually.  Yesterday was all Norah Jones in my room, and I swear the world's babies stopped crying as a result.  That woman is magic. 

I feel like I haven't really got much to report, which is entirely untrue.  There was a medieval feast/murder mystery this weekend, put on by the Brit Lit class, and that was immense fun.  I feel like the teacher had too much fun assigning me my character and seat, but I suppose that's what happens when you live at school - everyone gets to know you rather too well.  God, by my third year here I shall be unbelievably bitter. 

But this weekend is Youth In Government.  I'll keep you posted on that and get you some best-dressed delegate photos!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing I Write Here Is True

Not even that title.

Having read this over before posting, I feel that this needs another disclaimer: I am not a psych case.  I am a thoroughly with-it, under-control, normal human being on hyperdrive.  But no, really, you'll understand when if you get that far down the page.  I am never in therapy, very rarely cry and do not project angstiness into the world on a regular basis - I had that gland removed as soon as I got up here.

Oh, and Blogger is being most irritating and insisting that I have filled up my free 1GB of space in Picasa and must pay Google $5.00 a year to upload any more.  See the sacrifices I make for you, dear reader?  I shall pay it, but you must promise it will not be in vain. 

Well, that chemistry test was far more entertaining than expected.  We were all sitting there working on our stoichiometry problems as our teacher sat in front of his computer when, about fifteen minutes into class, Single Ladies started playing very loudly.  He looked utterly stunned, and after we'd all taken a second to absorb the fact that the music was coming from his speakers, he stammered that it had been a pop-up, that he'd been looking at e-brochures.  Nowt so queer as folk, I suppose... but the poor man was mortified.

Another week down, and there's Pulp Fiction in my future.  I do love weekends.  One afternoon last week I called in sick (I was, genuinely, suffering from the effects of exhaustion, eating nothing but pretzels for two days, and an English essay) and turned off all the lights in my room except for the fairy lights, and just laid on my lovely wide bed and dozed and read The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe and listened to a rain storm.  When excused from classes here, one can't really go about looking healthy, but I had visitors and we sat and chatted for a lovely long time.

So, on Tuesday something really weird happened. 

I Will Not Apologize

Aaah, okay, I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to post again.  Blogspot got itself banned on the school network, somehow.  Must have been one of the idiotic 'weighted phrase' limits.  Makes me want to swear all over this, but I don't want to lose access to my own blog again.  Anyway, loads to tell, but I haven't got time just now.  So, I realized that when I was doing all that url-switching a couple posts got left on Turkish Summer.  So, here they are for your waiting pleasure. 


This
And this

So, knock yourselves out with those babies while I go take a chem quiz.  Wait, no, I owe you more than this, don't I?  Okay, here's a music video too.  I just got my next-door neighbour hooked on this a couple days ago.  I know I can embed it but I can't really remember how, so just do the hard work and click, okay, darling?

Marina And The Diamonds - I Am Not A Robot

I Am Not A Fashion Blogger. I am Not a Fashion Blogger. I Am Not A...

But I have figured out The Secret.  Yes, that one.  The one on which the only-recently-fallen empire waist...well, empire... was founded, and that only fell because people got sick of looking semi-pregnant.  And now, two years behind everyone else who's ever worn clothing made of something more sophisticated than fig leaves, I know this secret: High waists.  They make your tits look bigger.

Now, I actually found this out by accident this morning while I was getting dressed.  I had put on a a longish skirt, whose hem I wanted to raise so that my new skeleton socks were a little more visible (do I actually think like this?).  And, just as an experiment, the kind you'd never try out unless you were all alone with the mirror  your roommate was very fast asleep, I sort of...pulled it up.  And.... well, I belted it.  And bang!  Where did you come from?  I don't know what kind of optical-perspective-illusion-THING this is, but I shall definitely treat it with care in the future.  I feel like there's a reason I didn't get the memo about this when it first started happening...no matter.  I don't like to be in current style anyway.  So, yeah, I kind of loved what I wore today - so much that I didn't even change it between classes.  Crazy.

 (Credit for these two goes to my neighbour again)

But this post was actually meant to be ALL about my legs.  I know, right?  I always thought of myself as a semi-serious writer... but I get too excited about tights to let these past you.  So, maybe not my legs, but the way I present them to the world...or some other pretentious bullshit like that.  I like clothes, so get over it and then I'll talk politics with you.  It doesn't make me a ditz.  I adore tights and an early birthday present I ordered myself from Sock Dreams (I couldn't think of another excuse) arrived yesterday.  There's difinitely a theme to what was in the package, but I plan to wear these all year:

The photos of the stripey tights and the spiderweb fishnets are from the SockDreams web site...haven't worn them yet but I can't wait.  But I took these:

I think they're my new favourites.  They come to just above my knees, but I'm quite tall.  These all shipped for free, by the way.  So go get some.  I was everyone's favourite Leah today at school (I really hope I did okay on that math test....and there's a chemistry exam tomorrow!  Eeek!) and had loads of fun - several people sort of looked at me like I had three heads when I told them I ordered socks online.

 Not a great day for food - dinner was pretzels and goats' cheese, but I've got a Plan.  It involves pancetta.  I will keep you posted.  And I've got some other news that I don't have time to go into right now - they're about to switch off the internet - so don't let me forget to tell you what I'm official photographer for.

Good night!

Apocryphal Armistice

Well, I got sick of Turkish Summer.  I called it Desperately Imperfect for a while because that's what it was, but now I'm done.  This blog has moved to:

www.apocryphal-armistice.blogspot.com

Deal with it.


apocryphal |əˈpäkrəfəl|
adjective
(of a story or statement) of doubtful authenticity, although widely circulated as being true : an apocryphal story about a former president. See note at spurious .
• (also Apocryphal) of or belonging to the Apocrypha : the Apocryphal Gospel of Thomas.

armistice |ˈärməstis|
noun
an agreement made by opposing sides in a war to stop fighting for a certain time; a truce.
ORIGIN early 18th cent.: from French, or from modern Latin armistitium, from arma ‘arms’ (see arm 2 ) + -stitium ‘stoppage.’

What We Do Here

Yesterday, after getting up off my downstairs neighbors' rug - there was a Saturday-night sleepover.  You should see my nails - and dragging myself to the cafeteria to make up for the dish duty I'd forgotten about the night before, I begged off a cappella with a sore throat that's still bothering me and went for a walk with the guy whose hair I dyed a few posts back.  We took a couple pictures while roaming the grounds, and this is a celebratory post because I can now upload them.  I was having to do it by email before, which meant limiting it to about three photos per post.  Unacceptable.  But the tech guys here are all-knowing and I can now do whatever the hell I like with photos, as well as access the iTunes store and finally watch Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  I have to keep this really short, because I have a chem test on Thursday and an English paper due Friday that I haven't even started, but here's what we did. 

Oh, and my Maytag model asked me to do it again.  He's dyed his hair since, and I haven't done much with these photos, but here they are anyway.

 

I'm also filling out my application for the NSLI-Y programme again.  I don't think I could graduate from here if I did a year or semester in Turkey, so I'm going for a summer in Tajikistan.  I need to know more middle-eastern languages. 

Cake and Other Nice Things

All right.  Remember the package?  The one with the Nutella?  Or just scroll down.  One day later - yesterday - my parents sent another one.  Smaller.  Heavier.  Two slabs of brownie, one on top of the other.  Goddamn, I am getting popular here. 

That wasn't even the best thing about yesterday.  Actually, yesterday was horrible, but some cool stuff happened.  The horrible was that I was 'home' sick.  Didn't go to any classes, not even chemistry.  And there was a chem test scheduled for today.  I took my blankets and books down to the lower lounge again and dozed on the sofas because they are more comfortable than my bed, and people came and went and chatted and I got far too little done.  But the cool thing was that we had Student Senate elections - there were five spots open and the eleven-or-so of us running given speeches the night before (mine was about the diplomatic importance of Turkish in student government), and I'm in!  The others elected were all boys.  I'm rather excited.

So, today my benevolent chemistry teacher let me off and said I can take that exam tomorrow.  I came home with the honest intention of studying for it... and saw this.  And, come on, why did my mama send me poppy seeds if not to have me bake beautiful cakes with them?  I'll study... um, after I'm done blogging!  But I feel obliged to share this recipe with you, wonderful as it is.  I'll tell you that it's well worth a few points off a chem grade.  And about twenty other people agree with me.  So make it if you get a chance, okay?

1 cup poppy seeds
1 cup of milk
1 cup (8 oz., 2 sticks or 16 tablespoons) soft unsalted butter
2 cups of plain flour
2 cups of sugar
3 eggs, separated
2 teaspoons of vanilla (I used a little less because I'm a low-budget student.  Ha.)
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

Preheat your oven to 350°F and grease a cake pan.  The recipe said to use a tube pan, but mine was an 8" X 11" Pyrex baking dish, and that fit beautifully.

Put your poppy seeds and milk in a small saucepan, bring them to the boil and then take them off the heat to cool (they should be more or less room-temperature, because you don't want them to melt the butter later).
Cream the butter and sugar together with an electric beater (handheld in my case...I miss my KitchenAid!) until light and fluffy and transcendently deliciously fatteningly good.
Mix in the egg yolks and vanilla, followed by the poppy seed mixture, and beat the hell out of them until everything but the seeds is pretty homogeneous.

Slowly add the flour, salt and baking powder, folding them in gently.
Clean your beaters and get a nice, clean bowl to whisk your egg whites in (if anything greasy touches egg whites, they won't whip.  In case you didn't know.  I really hope one of the delinquents I live with is reading this and figuring out some chemical reason for this).  Aaaaanywaay... whip the egg whites until stiff, but not dry.  They should hold peaks.

Trying not to deflate them too much, gently fold the whites into the rest of the batter.  Then scrape the batter into the pan and bake for about 1 hour (I'm not actually sure how long mine went for, because I had to run to English and had a friend take it out for me.  But about an hour.  And it was perfect).
Share it with your friends and remark upon how incredibly jewish this cake tastes.  It's one of those smells that makes me think of German bakeries and Fiddler on the Roof and good things like that.

Yeah, on the topic of jewishishness.  The astronomy teacher here is pretty religious, and he's been trying, through emails, to get me to go to a lot of services at what has to be the most northerly synagogue in New England.  Anyway, he asked me to come round to his classroom yesterday and introduce myself, which I did, and God.  I didn't feel like I was in The County at all.  I've never felt so liked for the necklace I was wearing... But it's kind of cool to know that there's one more person here to throw a little Yiddish around with.

And I'm still trying to get over how great people are here.  A load of us got locked out of study hall today and I had way too many books sliding around in my arms, and a guy on crutches took my laptop for me.  Insisted!  My god...

Oh, and last night, due to sickness and such, I went to the Residential office (it's just in the dorm lobby) to ask the cool Brit Lit guy who also makes sure that nobody kills anyone around here for some painkillers.  The exchange went something like this:

Me: Hey, please could I have a couple of ibuprofen?
Him: What's the complaint?
Me: Aaaaaaahhh... (I was thinking, okay?  I happened to have a lot of complaints)
Him: Okay, I've lived here long enough to know what that means (reaches for medication box as other staffmembers go crazy laughing).

I'm not easily embarrassed.  It was cool.


 Still very tired from being thusly hasta, so I'll go be responsible now.  Ish. 

In Need Of Your Wisdom

I need to rename this blog, maybe even change the url.  I don't know what I was thinking, choosing such a specific title, and now, post-Turkiye, I feel rather foolish.  So, what should I do?  Give me some advice here, please.  That's what comments are for.  I want to turn this into more of a photography site, and be able to write about whatever interests me without the expectation of everything applying to the incredible time I spent in Ankara.  I'm at school now, and school has very, very little in common with what I did this summer, maalesef.

Well, September Eleventh does seem to have rolled round rather hard this year, no?  It doesn't help that it's currently Ramazan (Rosh Hashannah, too.  Happy New Year, people), but there is no excuse for the bigoted way in which some Americans are behaving.  It makes me very glad to have dual citizenship to hide in. Burning the Quran, indeed.  Of all the horrible, stupid ideas... Since being in Turkey, which is politically not an Islamic country but is populated with the most wonderfully friendly people I have ever had the good fortune to meet, the majority of whom happen to subscribe to Islam to some degree, American ignorance about Moslems grates on me even harder.  I hope what I've written about on this blog has done some good in that regard. 

I've got a shoot now, scheduled with a most beautiful classmate, and one does try to keep these appointments.  Therefore, though I cannot withdraw without regret from the company of you, my dear readers, withdraw I must.  We shall speak soon.  May we all be a little less prejudiced by the next time we talk.