Jimmy Eat World’s “Night Drive” is the perfect song as we wind the swerving narrow roads down the mountain to the train station. The air is cool, and its dark but I can make out faint outlines. As we get closer to the station though, we start to pass by these large houses with no front doors, just open arch ways, all heavy with emptiness and all filled with flickering televisions and clusters of skinny children avidly watching them. I say empty because there seems to be so much vacant space in these gloomy rooms.

At the train station now. It’s hot, sticky and noisy. Yalnee’s incredulous reactions make me laugh. Hanging around her so much makes me feel like a giant (am half a foot taller than her). Perception of self is skewed now.

—

Shouldn’t be laughing at Yalnee’s pain but can’t help it as she develops a visible migraine in the station. The music is deafening and off key – which makes me miss the 80′s cop music that played in our hotel in Sapa. “Is this fucking karaoke night in the courtyard or something?” The breeze that rolls in is warm and polluted.

July 24, 2010

Day four. Had a bit of a princess and the pea situation on the overnight train. And by that I don’t necessarily mean that my back is so sensitive that I could feel lumps through the mattress, but more like I slept on my iPod headphones and nearly strangled myself to death with my passport holder.

At Nhat Tien Hotel now. There were colors everywhere along the taxi ride here but not a single breath of fresh air. Waiting to be checked in.

—

Needed a hero in Hanoi. This city is monstrous and I feel like I cannot escape it.

July 25, 2010

It’s only from cars where I can really drink in my surroundings. I wanted to listen to the Glee soundtrack on our 3 hour drive to Halong Bay, but it immediately aggravated my headache seemed and horrifically inappropriate. So I started with “Rhinestone Eyes” by Gorillaz, but have switched to angst filled caterwauling (Hot Hot Heat, etc). The ‘pain’ in these voices, the pain that seems to lack any real substantial depth, feels right because I can never pretend to understand the people in this country. So I guess the superficial level of this music is parallel to my superficial understanding of life here. Does that make sense? What I mean is that I can contemplate their poverty, and admire the destruction on an aesthetic level, but what frightens me is that I never will and never want to know what it is to live a life so caged. The hot sticky air suffocates, overwhelms. And yet I try hard not to pity Hanoi, I feel like it would offend their dignity – but I cannot help but feel, regardless.

—

Aside from the smog they contribute, the chaotic sea of motorbikes in Hanoi do not bother me. Their threat on my life as I cross this city’s lawless streets is thrilling in a strange way. They are not why I call Hanoi a monster. It’s the hundreds of thin, grime covered bodies sitting on the sides of the road, stooped on low plastic chairs, all eating together in such decrepit conditions that is so unbearable to see. Their local stores look like random empty storage closets that have been arbitrarily filled with whatever was at hand. Chocolate bars are sold in refrigerators, for they would melt otherwise.

I recalls these memories of Hanoi with great tension in my heart. The green fields that I currently pass take my breath away, though. Despite it all, though, I cannot deny its vast beauty. It is a painful admiration, though, a pain filled love and reverence.

—

Inescapable, inescapable, inescapable. I have seen poverty before but Hanoi strikes me because there is no relief from it.

July 26th, 2010

Halong Bay. My skin is sticky with sunscreen. It is epically gorgeous. “Labyrinth of limestone” is a perfect, eloquent way of describing everything. Wading in the beach, dangling our feet off of the junk boat, soaking up the sun. Taking a boat into a grotto, keeping an eye out for monkeys. This place is a soothing embrace, it is that much needed relief from Hanoi.

—

I constantly wake up in the morning with no idea where I am. Complete disorientation, which I’ve never had before. I’ve always woken up with a definite sense of place. It is exciting, in a way.

In reference back to Halong Bay, was silly with Isabel. We tried to take fun pictures of our legs against the sea while dangling on the edge of the boat. Pictures were ridiculous and it would have been amusing/tragic if we had fallen off because of that.

July 31, 2010

Day ?? of the Vietnam Diaries. Have not kept any further records, and my camera comes out less and less. Cambodia is the next stop in a few days.

Day one of the Vietnam Diaries.

“This lady’s serious, eh? She’s still playing that thing?” I laughed a little inside. After napping this afternoon in our hotel room, I awoke to this faint Oriental melody – someone was playing the flute outside. It was soothing and seemed appropriate, though perhaps in a stereotypical way. I began to giggle a bit though at the flute player’s insistence, and now it’s become a source of amusement after I misunderstood Yalnee, thinking she really wanted to buy one (turns out she wanted to buy a transformer, not a flute) but my mild horror at the picture of Yalnee practicing the flute by herself at dawn still has me laughing.

July 22, 2010

Day two of the Vietnam Diaries. I feel the wound that Daniel Putnam gave me when he dropped a rolling pin on my foot back in Toronto. My feet are wet–everything is wet. Silver Waterfall was beautiful, though not in a breathtaking way. If anything, it was a powerful reminder of just how wet Vietnam is. The leaves, flowers and dirt roads are all slick with rain. My bones feel wet. But there’s a graceful, moody elegance to it all–the scenery seems to revel in its darkness. Tired, thin bodies pass outside the car window. Some wear straw hats, some wear military helmets. Some smile. Some carry heavy loads, but the thing that strikes me most about their presence is that it seems so permanent.

July 23, 2010

Day three. Last day in Sapa. The internet lounge is surrounded by bay windows. Sunlight is warming my skin. Butterflies and moths flutter around inside. Are they free to roam in and out? Or are they trapped once inside?

—

Yalnee trekking through three villages with her fly open. Cannot stop laughing.

—

Visited local villages by foot: Y Linh Ho, Lao Chai, and Ta Van. Saw the Black H’Mong and the Giay minorities. Later visited Cat Cat village without a guide. People thought we were crazy for hiking back uphill from the village instead of hiring a motorbike. Maybe a little insane–but the relief of the occasional breeze and stopping to just sit and stare at the rice terraces leaves me with a wonderful, exhausted feeling of accomplishment.

Seeing the children was warming, moving and heartbreaking all at the same time. So precious, and yet they’re fully aware of just how precious they look. They use it to their advantage and you struggle as they make quiet mewling noises while “DO NOT GIVE MONEY TO THE CHILDREN” reads on signs behind them. What can I do? What can I do but think, and perhaps try one day…

Train back to Hanoi tonight.

But where to go in Toronto? Reviews are always hard to gauge, since even the most highly recommended place will still have a daunting pack of naysayers floating behind it. I have a few friends that I trust implicitly with food (including GB, but he’s a vegetarian so his word is limited), but brunch seemed to be uncharted territory.

So, after a night out, my friend SM and I were determined to have a lovely Sunday brunch.

Honestly? It was everything I had hoped for. Maybe it was because I was used to spending Sunday mornings hungover in bed, wishing that Starbucks delivered, flashing with irritation every time my phone would ring. But being forced to get out of the house in a nice outfit, actually getting that cappuccino I so often wished for, and walking downtown to a cute brunch spot was exactly what I pictured a breezy Sunday morning to be like.

We ended up at Czehoski, and the atmosphere was perfect for brunch. Food reviews for Czehoski turned out to be abysmal, I found out later, but my Eggs Benedict were fine, and SM’s arugula omelette was yummy. Still, the food paled in comparison to the great seating environment.

We sat by the door at the bar with tons of natural light flooding into the place. The mix of white walls, hardwood, abundant wine bottles and art gave a very cosy gallery feel, and the service was friendly and laid back. All in all I thought it was a great success.

I was new to brunch, though, so I could have been easily getting ahead of myself.

Determined to try out more places, I checked out another restaurant that I had specifically picked out: La Palette in Kensington. I was debating between La Palette, Bar One, Peter Pan and a few others, but after weighing the supposed pros and cons of each place, I placed my bet on La Palette. I hoped it was good– it was my boyfriend’s birthday brunch, and I wasn’t sure how excited he was about brunch in the first place (aka not very).

Small and quaint, the paisley handkerchief tablecloths with the Bonne Maman jam jars filled with brown sugar (my favorite jam brand!) reminded both of us of Paris.

Despite the overall rave reviews, there was a mixed blog review (at A Glutton in Kingston) featuring shadowy pictures of the food, and complaints of how the mains were good but that the sides were lacking. They also mentioned how their omelette was mushy– but I didn’t care too much, as I’m really not an omelette fan in the first place and had no intention of ordering one. I could see from the blogger’s picture, though, that the omelette indeed looked a bit mushy.

However, when the waiter revealed that the omelette du jour was made with boar rib, cherry tomato, BRIE, and caramelized onions, I couldn’t resist. I thought, “sogginess be damned, I want brie this morning”.

And it was heavenly. Our omelettes looked nothing like the one from the other blogger’s picture– its edges were crispy, the egg was thin but resolute and quietly complimented the bursts of flavor in the sharp cherry tomato, the decadently creamy brie, and the exotic boar rib.

I don’t doubt the other blogger’s review when he complained that his salad was overdressed, I truly believe it probably was that morning. I personally also really dislike overdressed salad. But that morning it had a perfect amount of a light oil dressing, and the fries were delicious with crispy outsides and hot, soft insides– accompanied by a fresh mayonnaise.

It had actually been showering just before we arrived to the restaurant, but the moody sky and rainswept floors gave an unexpected cinematic grace to the whole experience. By the end of the meal, though, the sun was in full force and while I enjoyed the way the light was reflecting all of the tiny rain puddles, I think my boyfriend was dying of a heatstroke.

The coffee was also excellent, so much so that I drank it black.

Verdict:

La Palette really raised the brunch bar for me, and I look forward to my next brunching experience. Excellent food– food that moves you– and lovely atmosphere. Okay, I hate to rain on my own parade, but the boar rib in the omelette could have been a little more tender. Seriously though, overall, amazing food.

Czehoski had “good” food, comparable to breakfast from chain restaurants like the Pickle Barrel – but it was really the feel of the restaurant that I appreciated.

—–

Czehoski

678 Queen Street West
Toronto, ON M6J 1E5, Canada
(416) 366-6787

www.czehoski.com

La Palette

256 Augusta Avenue
Kensington Market, Toronto
(416) 929-4900

www.lapalette.ca

I’m back from a lovely hot yoga session with my friend JM.

To be honest, it was a long, dreary day. It was raining, and naturally I didn’t have an umbrella with me. After making it through a shift at the hospital, I wandered woefully into the cruel downtown streets.

My life is in disarray, I lamented to myself. Where am I going? What am I doing with myself?

I noticed a Cultures and ordered myself a frozen yogurt. I perked up a bit, and thought, “Aren’t the little things in life lovely? I’m like a ray of sunshine!” I made it about twenty steps before sinking back into my former state. It was hard staying so cheerful when everyone else was still so miserable from the rain as well. No one was moved by the rain sodden girl with an ice cream cone.

Dejectedly, I headed to King and Bathurst to the Moksha Downtown Yoga Studio for a 1 1/2 hour session. Resting in savasana (corpse pose – aka lying down) in the beginning of my practice, I nearly fell asleep. I got carried away thinking about some things that have been on my mind, and the heat on my skin felt good after being soaked to the bone from the rain. Free to relax and be still, I wanted to angst; I wanted to spend my 90 minutes lamenting over life.

Our instructor arrived, and I stared intently at myself in the mirror. My instructor told me to clear my mind, but I was resolute in defying her. I wanted to think about everything that had been eating away at me. We went into the tree pose, which involves lifting a leg. I couldn’t balance.

The thing about hot yoga is that it really forces you to take care of yourself– it’s very physically demanding, especially compared to “regular” yoga. With hot yoga, I have to make sure I eat properly and drink enough water during the day before my session, or else I get dizzy and want to pass out/commit suicide. There’s no half assing it– I’ve tried desperately chugging a bottle of water right before a practice after not having much during the day, and you can really notice the difference. So, physically, I had prepared myself.

But I forgot. If you’re not focused, you’re going to be a disaster.

My balance is generally pretty good, but today, I just couldn’t do it. I kept thinking too much. My mind wasn’t clear. Wobbling, I thought to myself, Ingrid, get your head in the game.  I started preparing myself for a High School Musical inspired pep talk. I’m serious – a Zac Efron/basketball montage was starting to play in my mind. It’s–

And then I nearly fell over. Embarrassed, I realized I couldn’t afford my ridiculous internal monologue either. My action had to be immediate. It was strange. For the first time in a long time, I was forced to just… get to it. No emotional reaction, no resentment, no thought– I didn’t have time to think, I just had to do it. For once, I had no choice.

During the next hour, my head was actually clear for once. It was really, really nice. After what’s felt like two months of continuous turmoil (mostly because of graduation), I was able to calm down for an hour and to really appreciate that thing that everyone has been telling me to appreciate for ages: the present.

I feel like I have a bit more strength now. Cheers to that.

http://www.mokshayogadowntown.com

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This is is my friend AC’s fridge: symbolic of the state of our souls.

It’s the last week of school– the last week of my undergraduate degree and there is a good chance I’ve lost my mind. I just checked my mark for my Titus Andronicus paper and managed to wrangle an A-.

Despite this vague mark of intelligence, however, I’ve been a wreck. For example, I’m trying to read Cymbeline right now for my test tomorrow. There was a line: “My lord, your son drew on my master.”

It took me forever to figure out what that meant. I thought to myself, “His son drew on his master? Like, a drawing? Metaphorical drawing?” I finally figured out the line was, obviously, referring to swords and not crayons.

What the hell is going on with me?

This has been going on for about a month now. For example, I was going to go to Starbucks and, in my confusion over which one to go to, ended up looping the entire Southern portion of the Yonge subway line, only to end up at the Bay and Bloor Indigo Starbucks.

I’ve been trying to pump myself up in this last week by blasting High School Musical 3′s “Now or Never.” Zac Efron, move me.

This entry today is basically a melodramatic “Why is the world the way it is?” breakdown. It was probably sparked by the constant, gnawing graduation stress that has been eating my soul. Nothing extreme happened today, but the fact that everything was so mundane is probably what made it that much worse (i.e. foreshadowing the rest of your life).

My day started off pretty well, actually. I woke up tired, but had a good coffee and panini with my friend CT. I finally tried the Chicken Santa Fe sandwich from Starbucks (delicious) and I love the feeling that I get when coffee perks me up. Afterwards, CT and I were walking to class, and he made some joke. I didn’t laugh at first, but then I randomly started to giggle.

He said, “See? At first you think it’s lame, but then you think about it and it’s hilarious.”

I tried to suppress my laughter, and put on a cool smile and lowered my eyes in a casual, flippant manner. My hair was probably fluffed in the process.

“Whatever,” I drawled, lifting my cup of coffee to my cold face. It’s something I do quite often– it feels nice when it’s chilly outside. But as I shot CT a nonchalant, aren’t-you-silly look, a volcano of coffee spewed out of the mouth of the lid and covered the left side of my face.

CT nearly fell onto the road, his face alternating between laughter and amazement, and I started to laugh at my uncontrollably awkward reaction. Then I went to class, and I aced an in-class essay I had been worried about. Things were pretty great so far, even despite the weather.

But then my professor decided to make us watch “L’amant”, based off of Marguerite Duras’ novel. Normally when I watch a traumatizing movie, I’ve been forewarned so that I might brace myself. I had no such preparation for this film, and after witnessing most social taboos in heightened detail for two hours straight, I left feeling disturbed and isolated. It was a good movie, but I was absolutely not in the mood for it.

A few things went downhill from there, and things probably would have been different if the sun had been out. My feet were cold and wet, my body hurt from carrying around my laptop all day, and I was so tired.

I met up with my friend AC for dinner at Whole Foods, and had a laugh here and there. I was essentially trying to power through the day. Some time passed, and I decided to go to my beloved Bay Bloor Indigo Starbucks for another americano. They were handling something behind the bar, and one of the baristas jumped and let something go. It was some sort of item covered in small ants. She looked at me, and instead of freaking out about how that must be some sort of health violation, I smiled sympathetically.

They disposed of whatever the hell it was, and she made my drink.

I asked for soy milk on the bar, and she handed it to me. Hmm, it was brand new and unopened. Usually when that happens, the baristas are super nice, and shake it for me, and warn me that it’s full and that it’s probably going to spill all over the place. Well, no matter. I knew to be careful anyways. I poured it in, and tasted my drink.

It was really weak.

I’m really no coffee expert. Everyone’s always saying how this and that place has great coffee, but honestly, I’m pretty flexible and even I thought that this was bad. After hesitating for a moment, I asked that barista if she could re-make my drink. She paused, and said “Okay” neutrally. I thought to myself, At least she didn’t sound annoyed…

“Sorry,” I offered, and she avoided my eyes and shrugged.

I saw her pour the shot of espresso in, and then she began to fill it up with hot water. To my surprise, she stopped half way and plonked the drink onto the bar.

“Uh…”

I glanced at AC, wondering why on earth she left so much space.

“Should I…?” I looked at AC. AC nodded. “Um, excuse me, could you top it off a little bit?” She stared at me. “Could you add a bit more hot water? It’s…”

She nodded, grabbed my drink, added a second’s worth of hot water before shoving it back at me.

Hey, I’m sure dealing with those bugs was traumatizing, but really? What are you doing? I haven’t had a bad experience at Starbucks in a while, so this was really disappointing.

I’m trying to stay positive anyways. I’ll stop procrastinating now and get back to my essay. It’s always something small and random that lifts me out of crappy times like this.

AC just now: “Ingrid, my brain hurts. It’s telling me to stop putting things in. …That’s what she said.”

I totally lol’ed.

As you can see by now, this entry had nothing to do with the Gorillaz album – I just thought Demon Days sounded cooler than Bad Days. IY out.

The Winter Olympics had me reminiscing about my days in Whistler, so I pulled out my old pictures from last summer. It was then that I stumbled upon this heavenly steak tartare that I once had the pleasure of tasting. Embarrassing part: I can’t remember the restaurant’s name. Horrible of me, I know. But ______’s version of steak tartare is in the Top 5 of the Best Things I’ve Ever Eaten list. They served the dish with these hot, crispy edged starchy cakes made out of deep fried rice, and the contrasting textures and flavors still makes me weep inside a little bit. I’d go as far as to say that’s one of the main reasons I miss Whistler in the first place.

If I’m forced to move aside from the subject of flavor, though, I really liked the plating. In general, I’m very interested in dining, decor, and food styling. We can approach things at random, strictly out of utility, or we can approach things with thoughtful care and passion. I believe that food is so much more than just a necessity. My mother taught me this. Most of my interest, and what I’ve learned, in terms of food was due to her influence. My mom never took any courses on design or cooking. She manages the statistical team at a major pharmaceutical company, so she’s not obviously artistically inclined. But despite her technical and analytical background, she raised me with the belief that everyone can bring a little art into their life. Here are a few of her food styling basics I’d like to share.

The food below is all made by my mother (one or two dishes I’ve specified are by myself), and all the photos were taken by me.

1. Flowers. They’re an obvious way to dress up your dinner table, but there are plenty of ways to add them without blindly stuffing a premixed bouquet into a random vase on your table. I find that sticking to one color is the classiest way to go, and sometimes it’s nice to break down a bouquet and store them in individual little glasses. The tiered pink carnation display was from one of my birthdays. The frame is just stacks of clear plates and glasses; my mother didn’t buy some insane holder. The flowers are also from the supermarket. No fancy florist required!

2. Add height. The chicken breast with the mashed cauliflower on the right is actually my own cooking. See, I learn!

(Left to right: Cheese platter, White wine chicken breast with mashed cauliflower)

3. Simple repetition.

(Left to right: Takoyaki, Caviar on deep fried tofu, Tomato Watermelon salad with basil)

4. Adding a touch of green is probably one of the easiest ways to dress up your food. The seared scallop was made by my mother (obviously I am not that talented), but the okonomiyaki (a Japanese seafood pancake) and the pasta was made by yours truly. It’s interesting how a few pieces of raw vegetable and a brush stroke of sauce can really add something special to your meal.

(Left to right: Seared scallop on pea shoots, Okonomiyaki, Tagliatelle and Meatballs)

5. Interesting plates can really do a lot of the work for you. My mom bought most of her plates from Value Village and random restaurant clearance sales, so you don’t have to run off to Pottery Barn or anything and kill your wallet/self.

(Left to right: Strawberry pavlova, Grilled shrimp and peach salad)

6. Do something unexpected. This is probably the most ambiguous piece of advice, and probably the hardest to follow. Honestly, I don’t think I’m there yet– but I’m assured that with practice I’ll get there. Here are some examples of what I’m talking about. My mother thought of interesting ways to top cupcakes, like taking mini marshmallows and cutting them diagonally to replicate flowers.

(Left to right: Marshmallow cupcakes, White chocolate chip cupcakes, Strawberry brownie cups)

I first heard about snickerdoodles a few years ago from the TV show “Veronica Mars”. Veronica always made Wallace snickerdoodles, and I had no idea what they tasted like. Let’s get this out of the way: snickerdoodles have nothing to do with Snickers bars. They’re basically cinnamon sugar cookies, but then again, I feel criminal underselling them like that. They’re so much better.

The cookies themselves are soft and chewy; something that your teeth can sink wonderfully into. They have a comforting mildness and lack that sophisticated intensity, the kind you might get with a flourless dark chocolate cake. It’s all fine and well to have a decadent treat like that on occasion, decorated with a gooseberry and drizzled with some organic raspberry puree, but sometimes you want something nostalgic and uncomplicated for those rainy days.

I encourage people to make these simply for the pleasure of being able to eat them fresh out of the oven. Not all cookies benefit so much from this, but when snickerdoodles are still warm, their outsides are crisp and spicy with cinnamon while their insides are amazingly light and soft. Not gooey. Soft. Their texture balances out more after they’ve completely cooled, so woe to those who’ve tried my cookies the day after. Just kidding. I still think they’re marvelous cookies, but when I tried them warm, I think I fell in love.

What differentiates these cookies from regular sugar cookies is the cream of tartar used in the recipe. I think that is what rounds out the flavor, and is what brings lightness to the sugar.

I used this recipe from Recipezaar.com. Please enjoy it as much as I have!

Snickerdoodles (24 servings)

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 3/4 cups all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons cream of tartar
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 3 teaspoons cinnamon

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350°F
2. Cream the butter and sugar, then mix in the eggs altogether in a large bowl
3. Combine flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt in a separate bowl
4. Gradually blend in the dry ingredients into the butter mixture
5. Chill the cookie dough, and chill an ungreased cookie sheet for about 10 minutes in the fridge
6. While your dough is chilling, mix together the 3 tablespoons sugar and 3 teaspoons cinnamon in a small bowl
7. Take the dough out of the fridge, and scoop teaspoon size amounts of dough
8. Roll the balls of dough gently in the cinnamon sugar mixture to coat
9. Place on chilled ungreased cookie sheet, and bake for 10 minutes
10. Remove from pain immediately to a cooling rack.

]]> http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/13/snickerdoodles/feed/ 11 http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/11/things-i-bought-that-i-love-003/ http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/11/things-i-bought-that-i-love-003/#comments Fri, 12 Feb 2010 00:46:03 +0000 Ingrid http://www.iy88blog.com/?p=335 I originally stole used “Things I Bought That I Love” as a reference to Mindy Kaling’s blog where she wrote about clothes and lovely things. But now that her blog is no longer up, any pretense of a reference is now gone and I’m left with this mingling feeling of plagiarism and vulnerability (plagiarism because of the obvious, but vulnerability because I am now the only person backing this title).  How things change.

So here we are, at Things I Bought That I love 003. I love how I set up this series allowing room for TIBTIL to grow into the triple digits. Honestly, does anyone expect me to get to “Things I Bought That I Love 467?”

I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to that.

There’s a medley of products on the left, but I’m going to start with the Urban Decay Book of Shadows II. For those that don’t know, it’s a makeup box set that comes with the eyeshadow palette you see, two eyeliners, and a sample size of their beloved Eyeshadow Primer Potion. Everyone’s blogged or vlogged about it already, but I’ve had a few questions about my eye makeup, and wanted to share.

It’s a good range of colors. Plenty of neutral brown tones, with a few pops of color for when you want to experiment. The eyeshadow palette slides out of the box, and at first I hated that design (I suppose I still do…) but now I just leave it open, just as you see it. I’m actually at a loss as to how I’ll organize my makeup once I’m through with it, as I now use the original portion of the box as a platform for my other products– and I quite like it like this, aesthetically and practically. I’m inclined to experiment when all these colors are open at my disposal, and it’s a relief not to have a mountain of tiny little eyeshadow pots rolling around.

For the next item, I’m not really sure if this counts as something I bought… It’s more of a something-I-reorganized. I used to keep my makeup brushes loose in a jar, which was fine enough, but I wasted a few seconds moving them around each day so I could see clearly which brush was which.

At Sephora, they sell their makeup brushes by standing them upright in containers filled with little clear plastic beads. I thought that was an awesome way of organizing brushes, only I had no idea where to get those little effing beads. Then I realized that I could just use rice instead, and it looked just as pretty.

This format makes it a lot easier for me to see which brush I need, and adds some structure to the mess that’s usually associated with girls and their hoards of makeup.

Another thing that has made my life so much easier is this earring stand. I had actually never seen one until I visited my friend JH’s new place, and I love it for its functionality. I’m quite fond of it visually as well, though– I like the draping and hanging gold, and the way all the little jewels catch the light. JH bought hers from Korea, but I just got mine off of eBay.com from the seller polybag-monster. $9!!

Bath & Body Works had a “Buy 2, Get 1 Free” special so I went and bought myself some new perfume. I used to be a bit of a douchey snob when it came to perfume. I loved layering Jo Malone fragrances to create personal, signature scents– which is all fine and dandy, but at $80+ a bottle, it borders on absurd. The only person who really cared was me, so once I stopped caring, there was no one left to fuel the habit. In stepped these bad boys. To be honest, I’m mostly hysterical over “Sweet Pea”, but it’s very distinct so I’m glad I have the other scents so that I can take a break. “Sweet Pea” smells like fresh raspberries and candy. Mmmm. I spray my winter scarf with it now and then, so even when it has faded on my skin, I can creepily remember the scent by smelling my scarf. I had to answer for this behavior when I did this in front of my friend SH last week.

Finally, this is something I’m working on. I visited Anthropologie a while back and saw something I’ve been trying to replicate. They filled jars with incense ash, and used the ash to hold the incense. The brilliant part about this is that when the ash falls, it only contributes to the ash that’s holding up the incense stick.

Here is my sad collection so far. I know I could probably buy some sand to get it started, but I can’t find any sand that resembles incense ash.

I thought this process would be a lot quicker than it has been. In actuality, an incense stick provides even less ash than you’d imagine. In a fit of impatience, I tried to fill the jar with several incense sticks and set them all on fire at once. They were on fire, that’s for sure…

After warily watching the smoke spew from the top and the flames lick the sides of the jar a frightening black, I extinguished the sad attempt. It’s for the best, anyways. Burning one incense stick at a time is heady enough. This shall be a labour of love. Or it will be the empty jar in my room filled with a little bit of dirt.

Speaking of football and athletics though, I’m always impressed by all of that training that they do. It inspires me to stay active. I know some people pick celebrities that they admire to motivate them into working out.

I can see why this would work for some people. She looks freaking amazing. But Britney Spears circa 2001 doesn’t do anything except for make me miss Britney Spears circa 2001.

Although I’m as narcissistic as the next person, the main reason I exercise is to work on my lung capacity, cardiovascular system etc., so the things that motivate me tend to fall on the less glamorous side. In short, I need to be able to visualize the athleticism I’m trying to attain–which brings me to my #1 source of inspiration right now: the game sequences from “Friday Night Lights”. My friend PH loves razzing me by finding parallels between Tim Riggins and myself, but when I told him that I use Riggins as a workout inspiration, he was a little concerned.

Understandable. I get that it’s a little weird that I channel the fullback on a popular TV football drama when I go for a jog. Apparently, Miley Cyrus is the only person who is allowed to have a socially acceptable alter ego.

But finding motivation is tough. Some people are disciplined enough to exercise 3-5 times a week as a regular part of their routine. To them, it’s cake. Facile. I am really not one of those people, and I have to remind myself everytime as to why I’m going. I strongly dislike climbing stairs, only to feel like I might collapse and fall down them at any moment. I want to have the option of running a considerable distance in case I’m late for something. And I’m a bit bratty, so this is one of the most productive ways of satisfying my competitive streak. Plus, if there’s a zombie breakout, I’d prefer to be on the surviving end of things.

So seeing that physical, aggressive gameplay in Friday Night Lights is what drags me away from my computer down to the gym. I pick Riggins because he’s got that reckless 110% throw-yourself-into-it attitude about football that I like having when I hit the track. I certainly don’t want to look like Tim Riggins (he’s a bit too muscular for my skinny jeans) but he embodies my reasons for staying active.

I’ve also been fortunate to have work out buddies, and Twitter has been an unusually good help as well. I’ll usually tweet that I’m about to hit the gym so that I have to hit the gym, or else I will be forced to endure horrible guilt and shame if I don’t.

That’s all for now. Cheers to better health!