Disclaimer:

My ability to coherently write is suddenly going down the tubes.

I have no idea if this is because of the German, or just because I've actually been writing so much lately that my brain has become overloaded.

From The Archives

Just today, I found this old thing that I wrote when I was around ten years old. I think it's interesting; there are so many buds of ideas expressed, not really fully developed, but relevant to my young mind nevertheless. I find it funny, my experimentation with punctuation. I am fairly sure I had just figured out that one can use the word 'yet' in writing. But the last couple sentences kill me, because I can vividly remember being a little kid, and feeling exactly the way I described. That doesn't really happen to me anymore, and I wonder if, as one gets older, it's easier to accept the idea of an imperfect, unpolished life in a real world. I never realized, year to year as I grew up, how much I changed. But when I go back and read these strange, disjointed passages I can't even remember writing, I know that I have. Hopefully for the better.

The meaning of life

by me

The meaning of life is to live, whether you choose to be mean to other people, or whether you choose to be nice. The meaning of life is different to all people, just as all people are different. All living creatures should be aware of themselves, though. We all have our place in nature, and nature does us a favor, by giving us the land we live on, the food we eat, and also giving air to us. Many people take this for granted, and build factories out where people could be enjoying the subtleness of the world around us. These factories make the air smoggy and bad smelling, and are not good for the nature around them. In other words, these factories are not doing us a big favor. Whoever the corporation is who paid for them to be built is not caring for their country's environment. The meaning of life is to some people, comic. Life, to some people, just goes on and on, nothing really happening. Then you die, and you are no longer able to do anything, and that is the end of that. Other people find life to be an adventure, something new around every corner, whether it be beautiful, horrible, amazing, sad. Some people feel that life is just like a ride at the fair grounds. It loops, and turns, and goes quickly, or smoothly, or bumpy. You might, at times, wish it would stop, at times, wish it would never end. A lot of people don't really think about dying. They just cherish life for all it's worth, and make the most of it, until the end. Some people believe that a part of you lives after death, a part of your conscience, now, part of the universe, part of every person and animal on Earth's life. The meaning of life can be life itself. I often wake up, and don't really see my life in a literal way. It's like I'm looking through a mirror, and I can see everything in my life, yet, I don't really feel as if it's my own. I am, however, aware that this life is mine, and when I stop to think about it, reality hits. It feels as though I'm going down in an elevator, but I'm not standing on my legs. My whole body feels alien to me, and there I am, me, in a real world, in a real life. And it's scary.

There is nothing on a cold, late-autumn day like a hot, bittersweet cup of Kakao.

Woah...

I don't usually post two in one day, but I just realized that "Joe Pastry" says to chill the cookie dough another forty-five minutes after having put it on the baking sheets. I definitely did not do that, and they still turned out amazing. How much more amazing would they be if I had?

Too good to be true.

I'm sorry, National Blog Posting Month. I really did want it to work. But I just felt weird about posting every day. There would be a month's worth of posts here with little or no meaning/substance, simply because I felt pressured to write them.

And that would simply not do.

I will have a manual camera again by 10 AM tomorrow! I am so excited to get my hands on a roll of black and white film.

I Have Finally Achieved Greatness (Chocolate Chip Saga, Pt. IV)

And by greatness, I mean that I have baked the perfect chocolate chip cookies.

That other post, from way back when, where I claimed to have created a definitively good recipe?

Not even close.

No, this batch that I made on Friday for a birthday get-together on Saturday was perfection. The texture, the flavor, the chocolate to cookie ratio--it was all as I remembered from my past. It was all that I could have hoped for. I am on cloud nine. And I must give props to this guy, a great blogger whose chocolate chip cookie post completely enlightened me as to the nature of cookie-baking and the question of texture. I took the original Wakefield recipe he posted and combined it with my old recipe to see what would happen. All I can say is, it was a damn lucky guess.

So, without further ado, I give you my new and improved recipe:

2 1/2 cups flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1 3/4 sticks butter

1/2 cup white sugar

1 cup brown sugar (shipped from America, yeah!)

2 eggs

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract (also shipped from America)

most of a bag of bittersweet chocolate chips (yes, I also had someone send me these from the U.S.)

Mix dry ingredients (flour, salt, baking soda) together in one bowl. In another, cream butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and the vanilla and beat until well-incorporated and fluffier, if that's possible. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Now comes the important part: take the batter, and STICK IT IN THE FRIDGE for AT LEAST ONE HOUR. You can also stick it in the freezer for a little bit to speed up the process.

When you have yourself a big bowl of cold batter, take it out of the fridge, take a tablespoon, and start spooning out cookie-sized portions. Roll each portion into a ball (work quickly, though, so the batter doesn't get too warm), and place on an ungreased cookie sheet, or on a cookie sheet covered in parchment paper (this is actually what I did--really reduces mess and cleaning time). You can also use an ice-cream scoop.

Bake for 9-11 minutes (or until beginning to turn golden brown) at 365˚F or (190˚C).

They're so good. Seriously.

Photography+Dinner Plans

I started my photography class today. It was great! Despite the fact that my camera is AWOL somewhere out there in air-mail land, I was able to use someone else's (he has two) for the photo-shooting segment. It was interesting to use a D-SLR for the first time, and I got really into it. There is something very peaceful about the repetitive shooting of photos, and I just kept taking one after the other, barely noticing the ISO and the F-Stop (although that could also be because I'm really inexperienced with D-SLRs). One of the women in the class commented, "You're so quiet when you take pictures." I was definitely 'in the zone'--no pun intended (lame photography joke to anybody who's ever heard of this).

But besides feeling great because I had a real camera with an SLR lens back in my hands, I was also shocked, because the teacher--a published, freelance photographer--looked at some of the quick snapshots I'd taken in the class, and seemed really impressed. He exclaimed several times over strangely blurry photos (I couldn't figure out how to work the focus. I'm old-school!), and said he liked my composition. Then he asked me to bring in some samples of my older work for next week. Needless to say, I was pretty excited. I'm also quite pleased that everyone in my class is very friendly and encouraging, despite my halting German and my need to sometimes have things clarified in English. In fact, I didn't ask anyone to clarify in English--a few nice people offered to do this for me, if I needed it, themselves. Everyone is enthusiastic and ready to take pictures. Yet another example that, if one looks hard enough, one can find small remnants of "home" anywhere.

The second part of this post's title has to do with the dinner I am planning on making myself either tomorrow or Thursday. Spinach miso soup (from miso packages purchased at a Japanese grocery store in Düsseldorf), with the remains of the spicy tofu from last weekend thrown in. I might fry some onions for it, as well. We'll see.

Alles gute...

Today was my birthday. I was given four cakes, three of which were homemade. I was congratulated and hugged and sung to. I feel very welcomed, and I am surprised by how effusive so many people were in their well-wishes. I'm too tired to write more now, but I'll just say that my birthday, while different, was still a very good day. 

I didn't end up eating my Chinese leftovers, because after a day full of trying cake, a good salad seemed to be in order.

One Year!

This is my official one year post on Toast and Jam! Though this blog is but a humble effort at electronically keeping a public journal, I feel rather proud that I've followed through with it for an entire year. Once again, I'm facing a birthday--as people tend to do each year--but this this year, it's very different. I'm living in Germany, and I am away from all of the usual people I celebrate with. Yet, I still have that twinge of excitement somewhere inside of me, that hopeful anticipation for another productive year. This last one has been a whirlwind, and though it had its up and downs, I can confidently say that, qualitatively, it has been a very good one. I'd like to thank my family and friends who read this for making it so. I love and/or miss you all.

I'm also announcing my participation in NaBloPoMo. Yep, National Blog Posting Month. I will be posting something every day. Maybe not amazing things, but tidbits to get myself in the habit of writing again (not that I've lapsed out of the habit, but this can only sharpen my skills--or so I like to think). 

Last but not least, I'm pleased to say I've found good Chinese food in Düsseldorf. They serve platters that are like, 20% meat and 80% hot chilies, but they wouldn't make it spicy enough for me. The next time I go back (and believe me, there will be a next time), I'm going to have to say that I want it really hot. Insanely hot. I'm going to insist. They gave my friend and me the total white people treatment, even though my friend is half-Taiwanese and told them to make it hot in Mandarin. It must have been our English-speaking that really turned them against us. But I'm not going to give up. Anyway, we ended up ordering tofu in chili sauce (hot, but not hot enough--kind of a thick sauce, studded with fresh red chilies, not super-impressive) and eggplant in a spicy garlic sauce (not spicy at all, but a lot of garlic and really oily in that way that Chinese food sometimes is when it's supposed to be oily). I really wish I spoke Chinese, though, because they have the special only-in-Chinese menu for the Chinese customers. But even the German menu is pretty good, with some interesting sounding dishes. They also have Hot Pot!

Tomorrow, I will treat myself to a couple new movies from the library, as it is my birthday and all. I may even have my Chinese leftovers for dinner after my German-language night class. Tomorrow promises to be unlike any other birthday I've ever had, and really, what more could I ask for?

Failed Banana Bread

My bright ideas for baking in a new country have not been going well. The other day, for example, I baked banana bread. It was the same recipe I always use at home--same proportions, same ingredients, same everything. And yet, it came out of the oven a strange, sodden lump, which in no way resembled (in looks or taste) any banana bread I have ever made. I ate one piece, and didn't want to eat any more. Thankfully, it's gone to a better place (hint: a German waste facility), but I was so ashamed of myself for it. Really. This may sound a bit self-important, but I have always prided myself on being a decent baker. I bake things, and they usually get completely eaten up by everyone I know. And suddenly, I move to a new place with a different kitchen and flour that is quite possibly milled differently, and POW--everything I bake is a freak version of its former, perfectly delicious self.

Honestly, I'm afraid to bake here. I'm cursed. I'm the Auslander, and I cannot be privy to the secrets of a German kitchen. Only the Germans know how to coax their high-powered ovens and strangely named baking powder into doing their jobs correctly. Perhaps my German isn't good enough yet. Or maybe, I just have to swear a little at the ingredients, auf Deutsch, and the little bastards will cooperate. All I know is that I feel like something's missing without my baking ability. I feel like something has been stolen from me.

I hope I can get it back.

Das Leben der Anderen

Great movie. Great movie.

Watched auf Deutsch, mit keine Untertitel. Which, I think, was the right way to go.

If those of you who follow this blog have not seen this movie yet, get on that ASAP. It's called 'The Lives of Others' in English, and you can rent it pretty much anywhere. You won't be disappointed. Beautiful camera work, well-written script, nuanced plot, and amazing performances. I don't think I've seen a movie this intensely emotional, and yet completely real, in a long time.