Sometimes I’ve been asked why it is that I am so understanding. The thing is, I am not naturally an understanding person. I’ve sort of had no choice. You see, in the great scheme of things, love always trumps ideals. You may have this strict code of what you believe to be right or wrong, but I think that loving someone, truly loving them, means you have no choice but to accept them the way that they are and what they do, unless of course you plan on not speaking to them every again.
Sadly, with that acceptance comes a level of demand of your Self. In accepting others – especially loved ones – you have to give something up. Mostly you give up your ideals, your sense of self, you have to, or else you will never be able to reconcile the two ideas. The thing is, if you give too much of yourself up in the name of acceptance, you may reach a point where you are not exactly sure of who you are, where you feel like there is this huge part of you that is missing. How ironic is it that you were probably closer to knowing who you were at 5 years old, at which point you had made no compromises as opposed to a few years later when you had made so many.
I’m exhausted; exhausted of accepting, of tolerance, of not being judgmental. I’m so tired I have to go away and recharge for a while because I can no longer tell what truly comes from me and what is a product of others. I just need time to come back to myself.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
In Search of Happiness
Sometimes I compare my happiness to that of other people’s. I sit and look through pictures or meet for coffee and wonder if I should be as happy as they are, as they seem to be.
I’m not a person who likes to be out at parties all the time, or out drinking but I wonder if maybe I would be happier doing that. I spend too much time in my own head questioning everything and anything that comes my way. I am sometimes a mess, some days I cry, most days I don’t sleep.
I question my life, my choices, the place I live, my family relationships, my personal relationships, all this in the pursuit of happiness. I want to know the mechanics of happy and how mathematically one can achieve this state permanently and without pause.
But in reality my belief is that happiness is a choice, also a product of a slew of choices but in and of itself a singular choice. Is my dinner awful at the new restaurant? I choose to love the company I am keeping. Does it rain? I enjoy my new, fabulous umbrella. Is my heating off? I take solace with a cup of tea at a bookstore and enjoy the people watching. Happiness - like love, like marriage, like life - is a choice that is made on a daily basis, several times a day.
So if I believe this, and I do, why do I constantly compare my happiness to other people’s as if we were competing for grades in law school? I’ve always been the dutiful child, the eldest, and the only; and because of that, I have always had a huge sense of responsibility, even when I’ve behaved irresponsibly. It’s always about doing what is right, what is fair and what I should do, and somehow, that way of thinking has translated into all aspects of my life.
Do I love enough? Do I love in the right way? Am I obedient enough to my parents? Am I doing everything in my power to make them happy? Am I a good friend? Do I listen enough? Am I a burden? What can I do to not be a burden on other people? Do I have doubts? If I have doubts then how can I go forward? Am I unfair? Do I talk too much?
The funny thing is I am happy, right now, at this moment, I am happy. Most nights, before I go to sleep I pray and thank God for all the blessings in my life. At this moment, in this chair, I wouldn’t rather be doing anything else that what I am doing right now. So why am I doubtful?
It seems I’m so preoccupied with trying to do what I think my duty is that most time I neglect to do what I really want.
But I’m going. I’m going to do something I have wanted to do for a long time. And All doubt that I should do this has been erased, but I’m scared. I’m out on a ledge and I’m wondering what the hell I’m going to do if I change my mind; if this isn’t right for me?
Why can’t I reconcile what I want with what is right? Why can’t it be right simply because I want it; because it’s what I am doing? Why am I so afraid of failing that some days I spend all day wondering if other people have it right and I’m just a lost case?
I guess the good part about going on a six-week walk by yourself is that you have plenty of time to ponder all of these doubts and questions. Good thing I’m packing light, I’ve got too much baggage to carry already.
I’m not a person who likes to be out at parties all the time, or out drinking but I wonder if maybe I would be happier doing that. I spend too much time in my own head questioning everything and anything that comes my way. I am sometimes a mess, some days I cry, most days I don’t sleep.
I question my life, my choices, the place I live, my family relationships, my personal relationships, all this in the pursuit of happiness. I want to know the mechanics of happy and how mathematically one can achieve this state permanently and without pause.
But in reality my belief is that happiness is a choice, also a product of a slew of choices but in and of itself a singular choice. Is my dinner awful at the new restaurant? I choose to love the company I am keeping. Does it rain? I enjoy my new, fabulous umbrella. Is my heating off? I take solace with a cup of tea at a bookstore and enjoy the people watching. Happiness - like love, like marriage, like life - is a choice that is made on a daily basis, several times a day.
So if I believe this, and I do, why do I constantly compare my happiness to other people’s as if we were competing for grades in law school? I’ve always been the dutiful child, the eldest, and the only; and because of that, I have always had a huge sense of responsibility, even when I’ve behaved irresponsibly. It’s always about doing what is right, what is fair and what I should do, and somehow, that way of thinking has translated into all aspects of my life.
Do I love enough? Do I love in the right way? Am I obedient enough to my parents? Am I doing everything in my power to make them happy? Am I a good friend? Do I listen enough? Am I a burden? What can I do to not be a burden on other people? Do I have doubts? If I have doubts then how can I go forward? Am I unfair? Do I talk too much?
The funny thing is I am happy, right now, at this moment, I am happy. Most nights, before I go to sleep I pray and thank God for all the blessings in my life. At this moment, in this chair, I wouldn’t rather be doing anything else that what I am doing right now. So why am I doubtful?
It seems I’m so preoccupied with trying to do what I think my duty is that most time I neglect to do what I really want.
But I’m going. I’m going to do something I have wanted to do for a long time. And All doubt that I should do this has been erased, but I’m scared. I’m out on a ledge and I’m wondering what the hell I’m going to do if I change my mind; if this isn’t right for me?
Why can’t I reconcile what I want with what is right? Why can’t it be right simply because I want it; because it’s what I am doing? Why am I so afraid of failing that some days I spend all day wondering if other people have it right and I’m just a lost case?
I guess the good part about going on a six-week walk by yourself is that you have plenty of time to ponder all of these doubts and questions. Good thing I’m packing light, I’ve got too much baggage to carry already.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Wine & Food With a Side of Punctuation
Menus, food descriptions, packaging labels or any food-related terminology should never, ever contain quotation marks. Quotations should be used for communicating other people’s statements, to aid in sarcasm, witty banter or irony. But quotation marks do not belong anywhere near my food.
For example, while reviewing the events for this year’s Food Network’s South Beach Wine & Food Festival, I saw that one of the New York Times Series’ dinners is titled “Haute Holistic Dinner” (note use of quotation marks). The dinner menu is pretty straight forward, but the welcome reception menu is chock-full of quotations. In most cases, the term used does not mean what it says.
The tuna “truffle” has neither fungi nor chocolate in its midst. The Roasted heirloom beet “tartare” was never alive before it reached the plate. The “Greek salad” has no explanation, so it might very well be a Cypriot. And the “Juice Cocktails” contain no alcohol. For this last item, there were not even any quotations needed as the term cocktail is commonly used figuratively to simply mean a mix of liquids.
From the looks of this menu, I get the feeling that they are not selling holistic haute cuisine as new and wonderful in its own right, but as an impersonation of already existent dishes.
I think we should spend some time thinking upon some excellent names for vegetarian and non-traditional cuisine that could serve to better describe the food, as opposed to what it’s trying to imitate.
But quotations are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to faux culinary nomenclature.
While walking the isles at the supermarket, I find that vegetarian fare tries to mimic other kinds of food that are based around or contain meat by using vocabulary that reminds us of our favorite omnivorous dishes. I just don’t understand why.
I love food. I eat meat. I also have a healthy respect for vegetarians. I dig vegans too, but I keep them at arm’s length, they get too preachy.
I also have a great respect for the myriad of reasons that people choose not to eat meat: animal rights, diet, digestion, etc. This is a group of people that have consciously decided to go against the grain and not take part in something that most other people in the world engage in: eating animals.
Though the term “burger” has become synonymous with all kinds of round sandwiches, the term “veggie burger” gives people the impression that they are eating something that is related to a meaty cousin.
I love beef, and as far an I am concerned, the less cooked it is the better. On the other hand, I’m not a huge fan of poultry; love cold cuts; and pork is only a part-time pastime on Noche Buena. But still, a good chunk of my most delicious culinary experiences did not contain any animal flesh. So obviously, a meal does not require animal in order to be tasty.
That is not to say that there can’t be vegetarian alternatives to the same dish: chicken, beef or vegetable Pad-Thai. This kind of example aside, I think vegetarians are selling their food short.
By giving food a meat-related name - when in reality it contains no meat at all - makes vegetarian fare sound like a second-class citizen, and why would anyone choose to be relegated to side-dish status? Be bold, be broccoli, be an entrée.
For example, while reviewing the events for this year’s Food Network’s South Beach Wine & Food Festival, I saw that one of the New York Times Series’ dinners is titled “Haute Holistic Dinner” (note use of quotation marks). The dinner menu is pretty straight forward, but the welcome reception menu is chock-full of quotations. In most cases, the term used does not mean what it says.
The tuna “truffle” has neither fungi nor chocolate in its midst. The Roasted heirloom beet “tartare” was never alive before it reached the plate. The “Greek salad” has no explanation, so it might very well be a Cypriot. And the “Juice Cocktails” contain no alcohol. For this last item, there were not even any quotations needed as the term cocktail is commonly used figuratively to simply mean a mix of liquids.
From the looks of this menu, I get the feeling that they are not selling holistic haute cuisine as new and wonderful in its own right, but as an impersonation of already existent dishes.
I think we should spend some time thinking upon some excellent names for vegetarian and non-traditional cuisine that could serve to better describe the food, as opposed to what it’s trying to imitate.
But quotations are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to faux culinary nomenclature.
While walking the isles at the supermarket, I find that vegetarian fare tries to mimic other kinds of food that are based around or contain meat by using vocabulary that reminds us of our favorite omnivorous dishes. I just don’t understand why.
I love food. I eat meat. I also have a healthy respect for vegetarians. I dig vegans too, but I keep them at arm’s length, they get too preachy.
I also have a great respect for the myriad of reasons that people choose not to eat meat: animal rights, diet, digestion, etc. This is a group of people that have consciously decided to go against the grain and not take part in something that most other people in the world engage in: eating animals.
Though the term “burger” has become synonymous with all kinds of round sandwiches, the term “veggie burger” gives people the impression that they are eating something that is related to a meaty cousin.
I love beef, and as far an I am concerned, the less cooked it is the better. On the other hand, I’m not a huge fan of poultry; love cold cuts; and pork is only a part-time pastime on Noche Buena. But still, a good chunk of my most delicious culinary experiences did not contain any animal flesh. So obviously, a meal does not require animal in order to be tasty.
That is not to say that there can’t be vegetarian alternatives to the same dish: chicken, beef or vegetable Pad-Thai. This kind of example aside, I think vegetarians are selling their food short.
By giving food a meat-related name - when in reality it contains no meat at all - makes vegetarian fare sound like a second-class citizen, and why would anyone choose to be relegated to side-dish status? Be bold, be broccoli, be an entrée.
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