Connections


It’s been a minute. Did you miss me?

A lot is going on as always. Work continues to suck. People continue to suck. Politics definitely sucks..so we won’t be talking about any of those things.

I cheated on my diet. It was a combination of working all day and not shopping then being hungry and having nothing in the house. When it’s late and you’re tired and just want something to chow down on and crash, your options can be limited. Alright..if you’re lazy and hungry you might find yourself making poor choices. It wasn’t like I didn’t try. If you call sitting in the car muttering to yourself trying. That’s what I did. I convinced myself that I would pick the lesser of many evils and get a fish sandwich…Ok maybe a combo, but my intentions were not to eat any meat so i figured the bulk of the meal was not flesh and I needed to take a shower and sleep. I will say this. It was horrible. Not only did it taste like crap, I was consumed by guilt. I thought to myself, maybe I should gag myself and puke it back up as punishment. Then I said, no, that’s crazy..that’s how bulimia starts, don’t even go there. side note: I dated someone that had this issue. It wasn’t pretty.

So as with all relapses, this started becoming a habit. And with each instance, the excuses became more and more acceptable until I’d reach a point of regression. I went to Popeye’s and got this frigging 10 piece special. As I was eating it, I felt like a savage. I could literally see the chicken being mindlessly butchered. I thought about the moment of it’s death..that moment when the chicken realized that it was over. I felt unhinged. Mentally disturbed. I’d fallen back into the trappings of industrialized death we call fast food. I knew I was better than this. I swore I would be.

It took a little longer than I expected. The pounds came rushing back. My skin was breaking out. I was bloated, miserable, headachey and yet for a few weeks I kept it up until one day my older sister called me. We hadn’t spoke for almost 2 years with the exception of my uncle’s funeral. She called to bury the hatchet (long story). During that conversation, my brother got on the phone. I hadn’t spoken to him in as long. I asked how he was doing and he started rattling off a list of afflictions. High blood pressure, diabetes, arthritis…It was then it hit me. This is where I was headed if I didn’t get my shit back together.

It’s a vicious cycle. One that is entirely preventable with proper eating and exercise. We live in a society that is geared towards profit. Big pharma is in it for the money., If the medical industry really wanted to prevent disease, they would actively campaign against the wholesale distribution of foods that are hazardous to your health. When you think of the sugar industry in the same light as the oil industry, you will see the similarities. We are fed lies about their impact on our lives and other companies make money on that lie. Big pharma would rather sell you a pill than ban the shit that got you in that condition. I know this sounds conspiratorial; it is.  Once you accept that fact and zoom out to see the bigger picture, you will see what I mean. When you go to the doctor they will tell you, don’t drink, don’t smoke but you will do it anyway. Knowing this, they prescribe pills. This is what big pharma is gambling on.

Anyway, I shook myself out of the coma and decided to reign in my bad eating habits to regain the momentum I had before. This is where I am now. My body is not letting me off the hook easy but i have no one to blame but myself.

So. I have a birthday coming on Monday. I don’t have to work that day but it looks like it’s going to be cold as hell. This is what happens when you’re a winter baby. Your birthday can suck. If you plan parties, you have to choose wisely because nobody like coming out in the cold. Well if you live in the Northeast like me.

I’ve been working on some new music. This is what keeps me sane when I don’t go out shooting as much as I should. It’s just that at the end of a work day it’s frigging dark and cold and all I want to do is chill.  Long story short, (kinda late for that right?) I have a few shares for you. I hope you enjoy them..

 

The End of an Era


As I mentioned before, I have totally changed direction with respect to what I’m putting in my body. So to that end, I put together a collection of some of the dishes I’ve made in the past. Some of them are just ridiculous. It was interesting looking back at some of them realizing that I will never eat some of those things again. It was delicious though..lol

https://goo.gl/photos/mPaZQVL8TkxAdQja6

Grandma’s hands


I find it especially weird that a lot of people don’t remember their childhood but I remember practically every moment. The other day I was in the grocery store and I came across a jar of Grandma’s molasses. I said to myself, wow it’s been a long time since I’ve even seen this. So I bought it. Mind you I’m on a diet but I decided to have a couple of spoons of molasses in low fat milk instead of a meal. This is something I used to do when I was a kid but for a different reason. So after having a swig, I started having flashbacks.
When I was younger, I used to spend a lot of time with my grandparents down in North Carolina. They lived very close to the earth. By that I mean everything that they ate was homegrown. One of the favorite things that I loved was buttered biscuits and molasses. I can still remember seeing the steam coming from a freshly opened hot homemade biscuit. Dipping your biscuit in a small part of molasses and wolfing it down was my version of nirvana.
I also remembered my grandmother canning fruits (and a various assortment of other things). I remember asking myself why do they call it canning when you’re putting stuff in jars?
One of my other favorite things was the way my grandmother used to make corn off the cob. She had this tool, for lack of a better description, that was essentially a piece of wood with an opening in it. This opening had a metal blade in it and it was used to strip the kernels from the corn. I can still hear her humming as she was preparing a batch for dinner.she would stir-fry this in a pan with butter and it would be so frigging good. Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I’ll make some myself soon.

So, there I was, in my kitchen with my molasses milk, which I was having in a mason jar, souvenir courtesy of Joe’s Crab Shack, in complete awe of how many memories one sip could bring.