Microwaves (and flames)

I believe I've mentioned how frighteningly powerful our microwaves are. I am having really poor luck with the one in our room.

Like many of my stories, this needs a bit of backstory. I am generally very adept at cooking in microwaves.  I make passable recipes in them (because really, if I am cooking with a microwave I want ease and simplicity). Same with fire. While I have done things such as set lamb bones on fire for a photography shoot, I only slightly burn my fingertips when sealing 550 cord. And I can successfully use matches now.

As you can probably guess, when these two things come together it is Not a Good Thing. So to start this story, I will write of 2 successes!

First: Cake in a microwave. It can be done. You need normal cake batter, a greased mug, and two minutes.

Second: A really cool art piece that involved burning canvas and wax. It is still a bit in-progress (well the series is, because I couldn't find the cream color paint I envisioned), so there will not be a picture.

But then there are the failures.

For instance: Did you know that if butter is in a silver wrapper it is metallic and should not, in fact, go in the microwave for even 5 seconds? And if you did happen to put it in the microwave to soften it, it will spark and cause the wrapper to char?

And due to the success with the cake, I supposed that you could make cookies in the microwave! Wrong. Oh, so so wrong. At around 20 seconds:

I still hold that there were flames. There was sure enough smoke.

And now today. I was just trying to cook apple slices with cinnamon on them. Most were ok, but I noticed something weird as they were cooking, and one of the slices, though it looked normal, tasted electronically charred. Can't help but think that had something to do with the metal wrapper at the beginning of J-Term (That's the second time I've mentioned J-Term without actually talking about it. Don't worry, posts to come soon). But no one else has noticed anything, so I conclude that our microwave doesn't like me. (A personification to make up for the fact maybe I just have bad luck with microwaves).

<3

Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens...

... these are a few of my favorite things! (a slightly random, hodgepodge post)

(I obviously do not take credit for these images. This is obvious because in the second picture there are eggs in the breakfast portrayed.)

Another one of my favorite things right now: my creative writing class! I am in the J-Term course "Tales of Love and Death", taught by Marina Warner. And it is so nice to have time to be creative and take the care this class deserves. There is minimal reading, and most of our writing assignments are helping to lead us to our final project- our own 'tale'. 

This is a short post because, well, I am in creative writing land :) But soon there will be stories about Al Ain, a falcon hospital, and "Old" Dubai!

<3

P.S. Happy 2012!

The Reincarnation of Energy

When I write reincarnation, what I am referring to is the continuation of energy and spirit, beyond the mortal life cycle. Matter cannot be destroyed, and I do not believe that the energy that makes us ourselves can be either. This is the only explanation that makes sense to me right now, at this point in my life. I do not believe the energy that encompasses my spirit was started anew when I was. There are residues of history entangled in it. Reasons why this makes sense:

The People. 

You know the people that you meet, talk to for a half hour, and then it feels like you have known them forever? That you get them, and they get you, and no matter what role they end up playing in your life, that connection changes you, just a little bit, for the better. There is no logical reasoning behind this. It just happens. Some people you instantly click with, others you don’t.

The Places. 

There are places that call to the soul more than they should, more than other places do. For me, that is India. I have traveled to many states, Canada, the UAE, and India. Out of them, the two that make me want to just be there, live there, become a part of there are Vermont and India. Vermont makes some sense- I have lived here for the majority of my life. India, not so much. I have visited for two weeks. Yet I desperately want to go back, because in those two short weeks I learned so much and felt comfortable- mentally, spiritually, physically. And I don’t know why.

The Prospects.

I have been given so many amazing opportunities, been the recipient of so many acts of faith, of acceptance. I am surrounded by so many amazing people. I do not feel like I have done enough to deserve them.

Clearly, the energy that is a part of my legacy and life is doing something right.

<3

Home/Expatriate

This entry has been a long time in draft form, mainly because this is a topic that is difficult to convey through words on a computer screen- home is much more of a feeling for me than a physical place, and this post still can't quite capture how odd this train of thought is. (Odd is the wrong word, but I cannot find a more fitting descriptor). 

I have now been living in Abu Dhabi for three and a half months. My first semester of college is complete, papers are in, finals are finished, and now I am packing, cleaning, and writing, waiting for tomorrow when I will board the first leg of my journey home. (Update: I am posting this from VT. From home. The flight was very long, but uneventful.)

Home. The word has such a different meaning for me now. Sama Tower, NYUAD, Abu Dhabi – they are starting to feel like home for me.

All are ‘home’, but so are so many other places. Vermont, New Jersey, India, a campground in Pennsylvania- all of them are homes to varying degrees. 

And I wonder if that makes them less of a permanent home, but instead as stops on a journey, where I will gather more homes, more friends, and more lessons as I continue to travel. With the way I have chosen to lead my life, it very much seems to be the latter.

That is good in a way, but not so good in a way too. Because it causes the following situation to happen.

I cannot wait to go back to Vermont. But it feels nostalgic. I am travelling back to memories.  The memories physically exist in the present- I am still seeing my family, my friends, the old stompin’ grounds- but I realize now I cannot hold onto them. In a few short days I will be going back to Abu Dhabi, not to return to Vermont for an even longer time span. And that is the pattern my life is going to hold for the foreseeable future.

I am already an expatriate. Derived from the Latin. “Ex”- out of. “Patriate”-the homeland. My visa is a residence visa (albeit a student residence visa, but still). I am literally and legally living in a new country. That is still a concept I have difficulty wrapping my head around.

I worry about the distance. I worry about home turning into something distinctly not home- turning foreign. There is no way I can stop that transformation, and it is big, and scary, but it also feels resigned and almost exciting. Where I call home is in flux. I guess the best description of where I am now is my 'childhood home'- but that name feels wrong too, because it is still one of my active homes now, in the present. It is a home but not a home. Confusing stuff. 

But I guess that all of this a part of growing up and beginning to forge your own life. It just seems magnified when you choose a college halfway around the world.

<3

Musings

Death of a Salesman:

Atmosphere and energy is critical. Theater has never felt this spiritual to me.

The concentration of the actors

Their full transformation into the role,

How much they are willing to give to those around them- a heartbreaking honesty.

The energy of those surrounding me.

Good vibes and hugs and support.

Another family.

I somehow keep stumbling into these beautiful families that I am not worthy of.

The sacredness surrounding every step of the process.

The faith that was put in me

Mainly blind

To be blessed with the chance to be a part of this show.

The circle. The breathing. The energy. The connections.

The show itself, with the raw questions, usually hidden and avoided, that it forces on the audience with both harshness and tenderness.

Leaving them affected and in thought.

Connections. Humanity. Creation.

Rain:

We made it to the rain.

After the final show, at the cast party, someone looked to the window.

And there was a light rain. Niko and I looked in awe- as freshman, we had heard that it rained here, but had written it off as myth.

Weather doesn’t happen here.

It ranges from hot to hotter, with occasional fog.

Never rain.

There was rain, or the Abu Dhabi equivalent, that night.

So many were outside, faces uplifted to the mist.

And it was beautiful. 

<3

Femme Fatale

My excitement about this concert can only be really explained with a bit of backstory of me as a 7-11 year old girl.


I was a Britney Spears fan. All of my friends were. We would listen to her cassette tapes, learn the lyrics, and make up dances (I still remember dancing to "Crazy" on a dock by Lake Winnipesaukee). Her album "Baby One More Time" was my first ever CD. I had it both as a cassette, then a CD. Both are still in my room somewhere at home. I wasn't really into the other pop princesses of the time- Christina Aguilera's lyrics never got stuck in my head. I was a Britney fan.


I guess when we moved to VT is when my music interests started to shift, and the last album of hers I bought was "Britney". So I knew her songs up to "I'm Not a Girl".


Generally I avoid tabloids, so while I knew she wasn't in the best place, I never had the voyeuristic urge to find out about her life, because honestly, beyond not really caring about celebrities, I didn't want to have to see a new reality of her than I had in my childhood. I lost track of her, and her music.


And now that brings us to the present, 19 year old me. Many of my classmates entered a drawing for the Britney Spears concert after the Yasalam races. And most of them won 2 tickets. I did not enter, but I knew a lot of people who did, and Laura gave me her extra ticket :)


The concert was good. I won't say it was great- it took her a while to get into the songs (as the songs went further back in her repertoire, they got better, even if the lip-synching was slightly off), and in the beginning she looked fairly run down, which is understandable. My bias toward the earlier songs might also be because I could sing along to them at the top of my lungs. 


But it was music. It was bass heavy, beating in your chest, danceable, high decibel music. I love it when music consumes so many of your senses- touch, hearing, sight, people, that it is all you feel. All you think. 


And it was Britney Spears. Growing up in that generation, this concert fulfilled one of my childhood dreams.  


<3


(To those of you wondering- I would say this is the same concert on tour all around. I don't think it was changed at all for being in the UAE, outfit/lyric/dance wise)

"And sometimes remembering will lead to a story, which makes it forever. That's what stories are for. Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story." 
~Tim O'Brien