Cooking a turkey and getting your hands dirty...

Yesterday, I completed another one of my 101 things to do in life, cooking a turkey alone. It turned out gorgeous.. I was compulsively nervous that it would take hours more to cook then anticipated or that it was not defrosted enough.

Preparing it was more fun than I would have imagined. I made a melted herb butter and got my hands right into the turkey by rubbing it under the skin and ontop. Before the wonders of Williams and Sonoma, where cooks were raw and real, we got our hands dirty. In fact, this is a metaphor for my current dilemma with life right now, that I am not getting my hands dirty enough.

As someone who trained as an artist for 4 years in university and spent 4-8 hours a day living in a studio, basking in the stiff clay chafing off my jeans or finding serenity in the darkness of the dark room, working with my hands is something that is an essential part of me. Perhaps, this is where my adoration for cooking comes for, much like the groove I would get into throwing pots for 6 hours listening to Bob Dylan or sculpting away to Macy Gray on my giant tables, making clay over a 6 pack of beer and Taj Mahal tapes.. Perhaps, this is why painting my apartment last week was therapeutic. Music and moments that went with them that made college and art combine together in a delicious combination. Having a physical product to enjoy, whether to eat or sit still and remind you of the process and the time in your life that helped/ caused you to generate such art.

It all goes back to balance and making sure that you are supporting those realms; the artistic, the monetary; the physical; the friends; the wanderer; the lover; the sister/ daughter; I guess ideally your work should really be about all those things. Finding that perfect balance is difficult and of course takes time, and just because you are good at something doesn't necessarily mean you should be doing it forever..

Mas, mas tarde... Buenas noches..

Wandering, wondering and wanting a home.

I just finished reading one of my favorite blogs "www.farbeyondthestars.com." This man writes about maintaining a minimal lifestyle, one that after the shipping debaucle, many hours and $1000 of taxes later, I began seeing his side and theory. Yet, today on Thanksgiving, he wrote about how the minimalist lifestyle somehow does not give one the sense of having a home. How right he his, particularly, when I can tell you that painting my apartment the last week was one of the things that has made my apartment appealing and enjoyable, livable since I have been here. That and finally, somewhat embracing my life here. Those things that we might not consider necessary, like sparkly golden candles or a duvet, are things that make us feel warm and cozy and remind us of the simple things that we grew up with all around us.

The green and gold walls that were quite the task with a primary paintbrush and without a ladder give my apartment a warmth that I have missed since being here. When I moved into my second apartment in Dubai, I felt as if I would have stayed, simply because the entire place matched my personality's needs. Having my computer, so that I can keep in contact with those I love around the world is an essential tool, especially when you are in a new place and can't help but feel left out of it all.

So the blogger's argument of how being a minimalist and moving around the world can't really go together if you are looking to create a sense of comfort, home, etc. in the places you go is quite on the ball. Unfortunately, right now, especially after the shipping drama, I am pretty sure I can happily and gratefully declare that my friends are my most favorite possession and they are inevitably what help me to love a place and bring out the best in me. Too bad, I can't ship them everywhere with me. Something to consider on a future move. I am definitely coming back as a physicist in my next life to work on the whole teleporting thing. I smell international celebrityhood and nobel prize for shizzle.

Nonetheless, on this Thanksgiving, when it is time to say thank you for everything. I'd like to thank god for my ableness, my long legs to run, my health. I'd like to thank my family for being there, for supporting me through good times and bad. I'd like to thank my friends for listening. I'd like to thank my colleagues for being patient and bold and fighting for what they believe in, no matter how hard it is. And, I'd like to thank the earth for enveloping me in these green, lush hills and foggy clouds...

30 is the New 13

A few days ago on the salon chair impatiently tapping my foot, trying to meditate and reflect on something to find inner peace or the meaning of my existence. And in this reflection, I looked at myself and was reminded of a mere 17 years back, sitting on the salon chair, having a blow out, trying to make sense of my adolescence, my acne, my friends getting boobs before me or being over it because they had them at the ripe old age of 9, the point of my education, me being a baby awkward giraffe, having horribly anxious and annoyed feeling about boys. The moment of reflection I was having on reflecting I realized was not far from my current reality.

While, I have aged 17 years, not much has changed. I still have the occasional acne flare up that stresses me out. My friends are getting married or having children nowadays instead of getting larger boobs. Then again, I am sure there are some getting boobs too for the second time, especially in Venezuela. There are others like myself, who've been there done that with the wedding and divorce and wonder what's next? Can we be reborn in such a short time? Do you get to be the bridegroom married to amazement more than once in your life? God, I hope so. In addition, it's no longer education but trying to figure out exactly how to use all my education. In doing so, I am trying to determine the best and appropriate and inspiring direction of my professional career.

I still often feel anxious and horribly annoyed by boys actions. Perhaps now more than ever because I didn't really have any expectations of them back then. Well, I am sure I did but I wasn't nearly as self aware of them all. Still, this is a tricky area where rebirth is needed. Sometimes, I feel like the walls of toughness I build around me are too complex and difficult for me to understand how they got built and why?

In saying all this, the rebirth question resurfaces, and with all the comments of 30s is the new 20s, and 40s the new 30s, those cliche statements that make us hopeful about our next decade of life.. Truth is, one has to be hopeful and believe that if you're still here it can only get better in one realm or more. And 13 being the next 30, I really could run with this, I mean my 20s were pretty fun, if somehow I can inspire myself and my body to live through this "take 2" who knows what adventures lie down the road.

Smiles abound. X