Ceci n’est pas un Blog

I’m retiring this blog. Go to my drastically different blog at http://shanying.wordpress.com

I have a confession. I’m obsessed with the Gosselins. I had never watched or cared for Jon and Kate Plus 8 until momversation discussed it. The concept of documenting the falling apart of a couple’s marriage on television was both incredibly sad and, well, exciting. And so I proceeded to spend several hours watching recent episodes, old episodes, and reading gossip news about Jon’s newest romances. Sure, the kids were cute on the show, but the most rewarding part of the episodes were moments when Kate would snap at Jon and you could just see the tension in Jon’s face. I could almost feel the dark, brooding clouds of hate towering over them. There is something so raw and private about those moments, which makes this show the most real of the reality series I have ever watched.

I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. It is sick the way I, and the rest of America, am treating their divorce as entertainment. But it’s also human nature because we all identify ourselves in either Kate or Jon. People keep calling Kate a bitch and saying she is disrespectful of Jon’s feelings, yet I can easily see myself saying similar things. “Jon you’re breathing too loud.” So maybe he WAS breathing too loud! And that’s annoying. Even not as a mother of eight, I could snap at a husband like that.

The truth, though, is that my newest obsession isn’t so much Jon and Kate themselves, but what it is that caused their love to shatter. They represent every long-term relationship or marriage I’ve know that have fallen apart. Every couple (for the most part) starts off with strong and deeply poetic love for each other. How is it then that some romances don’t work out, even after 3, 5, 10, 20 years? It’s a terrifying thought that you can share such a strong affection for someone, knowing every mole and every scar on his or her skin, devoting years to merging together and becoming a collective force, and still end up apart, heartbroken, and alone. That thought scares me to no end and I worry constantly if in the future I could end up in Kate’s shoes. In fact, I end up wondering about what makes relationships work and fail on pretty much a daily basis.

And that is my true confession.

When I left work today at 3pm, I intended to do the following:
- Read the 5 papers I printed out and take notes on them
- Think about my project and write out a rough outline of a paper
- Handwash my sheets, tablecloth and 4 placemats (putting them in the washing machine costs too much money)
- Clean room and put away laundry
- Scrub kitchen floor
- Vacuum
- Sort lottery tickets
- Practice piano

What I did instead:
- Stalk people I haven’t talked to or seen for years on facebook
- Read celebrity gossip, such as Jon Gosselin’s newest 22-year-old girlfriend

It is now close to 7pm. Um, yeah. I feel pretty shitty about myself/my lack of work ethic.

I’m back!! Italy was, in short, amazing. The rolling hills of Tuscany were almost too idyllic to believe. We stayed at a historical farming community called Spannocchia.

The community is very well organized, tending to three large gardens, several herds of pigs, an educational program for young Americans, and hosting several houses for guests. Upon our arrival, we were greeted with a basket of fresh vegetables from their organic garden and a fresh loaf of bread. The house we stayed at had a fully equipped kitchen and I was thrilled to get the chance to cook with such newly picked ingredients. Fresh garlic is for example surprisingly different from dried ones — milder, sweeter, and more fragrant. They also raise pigs there and cure their own salamis, procuittos, etc. During the pig tour, they gave us different cuts of meats to taste. One of the salumis they make is called the “headcheese” which contains essentially all of the left over meats. Unfortunately, mine had a patch of small black hairs sticking out. I ended up cuting out that part, though I felt bad for being such an American. It was just a little too unpalatable.

Aside from lounging around at home, stuffing ourselves with bread and salumis, cooking, and sleeping, we headed out to various towns and cities. On route to visiting one of the many hilltowns, we drove by the signature fields of uniformly grown sunflowers. It was so idyllic and perfectly Tuscan! I wish I got a decent picture of them.

While I do adore Italian food, I found myself intensely craving rice and noodle soups when we got back last night. After a week of no internet, I’ve also been sorting through hundreds of emails and catching up on my normal life. Apparently Michael Jackson and Billy Mays died…Who knew celebrities’ livelihood depended on me staying in the country??

I’m going to Italy again this summer! I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon for 1.5 weeks of cooking and lounging in a Tuscan farm house. As usual, I promise pictures from the trip. I know I’ve also promised pictures of the apartment, but I’m just not happy enough yet with how it looks. It’s high ceilings have makes it seem empty and not cozy enough. Plus, need to buy a headboard for the bed, curtains, and an assortment of large wall decorations. I’m all ears if you have suggestion on decorating a wall cheaply or where to buy headboards.

On the topic of adulty-things like shopping for the apt, Mike and I have been considering investing some of our savings. It’d be good to invest our money is something very low-risk, just to make sure we’re not losing money to inflation. But the moment I open a wiki article on anything finance related, this little nasal voice pops up in my head and says “PPFFFFFFFF WHAT A BORING FUCKING LOAD OF BULLSHIT. Go eat some cake instead.”

(God I love cake)

Bonds, indexes, stocks, Roth IRA…I have no clue what any of it means. Which one is safest? And how do I invest in these things? Do I have to do it through something like Fidelity (which I presume requires extraneous fees)?

Yeah, this post is essentially soliciting you for advice. If you’re a woman, advise me on interior design ideas. If you’re a man, or an awesomer version of a regular woman (I’m looking at you, Koren and Linda), advise me on what and how to invest.

I graduated or something.

Both recipes inspired by Heidi.

Cauliflower browned in olive oil, tossed with chives, red pepper flakes and cumin.

Sauteed kale, leek, ginger, and tofu mixed with a blend of red and white long-grain rice, topped with a fried egg.

(I apologize for the bad picture. My housemates were yelling at me to stop taking pictures and just start eating.)

We have a new apartment!!! Move in date is June 1st. I don’t think I can describe to you how excited I am about this. I can’t wait to have my own (newly renovated!) kitchen, a desk that’s not the giantic mess that Mike likes to work in, and the space to bring out all of my shoes. While Mike’s current room is probably one of the biggest dorm rooms on campus, it’s still quite cramped with our queen-sized bed and the extra drawer.

Most importantly, however, this apartment has windows. Giant windows! That face out into an actual space that’s not the shaft of a building! Furthermore, our room is east facing, which means I will wake up under the warmth of the sun.

You should be excited as well because having my own apartment means I can host more dinner parties. There shall definitely be house-warming dates set. Keep your eyes peeled and your ears open!

Mom: Does your gay friend have a “partner”?
Me: Um…I don’t think so.
Mom: So he’s single.
Me: Yes.
Mom: Oh okay. He can become straight then.
Me: ….No.
Mom: Why not? What’s so great about staying gay?
Me: Are you serious? You don’t just decide one day to be a gay man for the hell of it, and then switch back to pussy* once you’re single again.
Mom: Don’t be silly. They can switch back to normal if they tried.
Me: [voice rising] You have–How can you just–oh jesus lord of saviors, forget it. This conversation is over.

Sometimes it hurts to talk to my parents. And yes, I use jesus’ name sarcastically and in vain. Bite me.

*did not use such crude phrasing. I have no shame on the internet, but I do have plenty of it in front of my parents.

Those who know me know that I’m a little confused when it comes to my origins. Am I Chinese, German, Canadian, or American? If you know me, you also know that I spend most of my life being anti-American and whining about the British system. Why would you choose to not use the system based off of multiples of 10? It makes so much mathematic and scientific sense.

But then I thought about this more carefully. If someone tells me it’s going to be 60 this weekend, I would have absolutely no idea what that means. I function only under Celsius. I would be equally clueless if you told me the average length of an erect penis is 10 inches (I pulled that out of my ass. The average length that is, not the penis. So don’t quote me on that value). However, I have a very clear concept of 3 miles vs. 26 miles. I can run 3 miles and I would die ten times over if I were running/walking/crawling 26 miles. Similarly, I couldn’t tell you how much I weighed in kg’s.

Therefore, for everyone’s convenience, I have made a list of which units I understand in your language:

Temperature
Fuck Fahrenheit. Seriously. Unless you’re talking about body temperature. I know that anything >100F is considered a fever.

Volume
I understand gallon (milk jug), half gallon (small milk jug), and cups/tbsp/tsp (yay for baking). Everything else, uL, mL, and L.

Length
My form of units: nm, mm, cm, m, miles, light years. Don’t even get my started on “yards” as a measure though.

*EDIT* Rodeo has to be a douche and correct me. Apparently the avg size is around 6 inches. Of course Rodeo would know. I’m sure every night Rodeo goes “please little guy? just a little more? pleeeeaaaasee?”