Master for a day

Just call me Master.

Although I wish the degree had been a Ph.D. I have to admit, it's pretty cool to think of myself as a master.

Does this mean I get my own light-saber? No? Just a movie? Well, what the...

Fine.

So, I graduate today, officially. The thesis (148pages) has been accepted, the papers signed, the fees paid.

I'm not going to the ceremony, of course.

I would rather throw myself off a cliff than go back to Memphis for that ceremony. There are people there I would be happy to never see again in my life. As a matter of fact, I believe I will make the extra effort to never think of them again.

Now, running buddies, you know I don't mean you. I love you guys, and one day will visit to see the building and go to BBQ fest. Maybe I'll come back for a race we could do together.

But, truth be told, I was in a rough place in life there, both professionally, and socially. Although I've spent this last year cleaning up that mess, changing, growing, learning, this is the official day that I graduate from that horrid place.

That place in my life, in my heart, in my head, and, of course, from that school.

I've planned a calm evening with close friends. Not too expensive and mainly centered around the porch at our place.

Tonight I will sit on that porch and contemplate just how far I've come, and toast a final goodbye to those ghosts I'm finally leaving behind.

Ladybug Stew

Creativity in the kitchen is vital for a Ldbug living in New York city. Particularly when the bug is very short on money. Very short on money because her old University charges entirely too much money (for a bug) to bind a thesis on "The World According to LdBug."

So, I have invented new food!

Find old pasta on shelf and begin boiling salted water in anticipation of said old pasta.

Dig though refrigerator and find one quarter onion of which half is still usable.

Discard gross part of said onion and chop the rest happily.

Discover half of a tomato unused by Soupcan for sandwich earlier in the week.

Delight in this find for a full minute, then chop finely.

Remember small can of tomato paste on upper shelf and open with can opener before said can opener disappears...again.

Add olive oil to a pan and heat, throw in chopped onion, add salt, plenty of black pepper, garlic powder (no garlic available) and stir for a moment.

Chase cat off of coffee table.

Add chopped tomatoes to onions and a palm full of Italian seasoning.

Stir.

Sigh with exasperation and chase cat off coffee table.

Add can of tomato paste to mixture and one and a half can of water.

Stir with trepidation.

Remember pasta and add to rapidly boiling water.

Add more pepper and salt to tomato mixture.

Stir.

Remove lid from pasta water, which is boiling over and creating a steamy mix.

Add more seasoning to tomato mixture.

Chase cat.

Finally, drain pasta, add to tomato mixture and serve!

Yum, Ladybug stew!

take a moment

One of our blogging community is suffering right now. If you have time, please stop by kill the goat and leave a comment of support. Thanks, be safe, and have a good weekend everyone.

Master for a day

Just call me Master.

Although I wish the degree had been a Ph.D. I have to admit, it's pretty cool to think of myself as a master.

Does this mean I get my own light-saber? No? Just a movie? Well, what the...

Fine.

So, I graduate today, officially. The thesis (148pages) has been accepted, the papers signed, the fees paid.

I'm not going to the ceremony, of course.

I would rather throw myself off a cliff than go back to Memphis for that ceremony. There are people there I would be happy to never see again in my life. As a matter of fact, I believe I will make the extra effort to never think of them again.

Now, running buddies, you know I don't mean you. I love you guys, and one day will visit to see the building and go to BBQ fest. Maybe I'll come back for a race we could do together.

But, truth be told, I was in a rough place in life there, both professionally, and socially. Although I've spent this last year cleaning up that mess, changing, growing, learning, this is the official day that I graduate from that horrid place.

That place in my life, in my heart, in my head, and, of course, from that school.

I've planned a calm evening with close friends. Not too expensive and mainly centered around the porch at our place.

Tonight I will sit on that porch and contemplate just how far I've come, and toast a final goodbye to those ghosts I'm finally leaving behind.

hello? are you there?

I lost my phone!

Well, only for a little while and truth be told, I didn't even know it was missing!!

I arrived home after a run in the pouring rain to meet up with Soupcan and gather a few groceries for a cheap meal. Somewhere between the front porch and Mr. Kim's grocery, my phone escaped from the damp pocket I'd secreted it.

Once home, I vaulted (literally I have to jump to get into the shower, horrid giant and useless tub) into the shower.

It was around the time I managed to get soap in my left eye that I heard a voice outside the bathroom.

Soupcan: uh, honey, did you just text me?

Me: Owwwwww!

Soupcan: Do you have your phone?

Me: *#%$

Soupcan: I think someone found your phone, I got a text saying "I found your phone on 5th ave"

Me: Arghhhh it stings!!

So I rinsed the soap from my eye, called the lady who found my phone on Soupcan's phone and pulled on my goulashes.

The phone appears to be suffering no ill feelings of loss and abandonment.

Perhaps this is because the lady who found it was comforting and kind. I'm going to text her later and offer to buy her a drink. Once again, I'm impressed with this city and the people who live here.

Tourist Trap

Last weekend, Soupcan and I ventured into the city to see a few sites that I wanted to catch before leaving New York.

We started at ground zero.

I suppose I knew that it would be a tacky, tourist trap filled with disgusting leaches.

These smarmy people (and I use the term "people" in the loosest form) were busy selling pictures of collapsing buildings, death, pain, horror as souvenirs!

Other tourist-blobs were posing for pictures in front of the chain link fence separating the bipeds from the dust and concrete pit in the process of burying and rebuilding.

There were giant pictures on that fence of pain and billowing clouds of loss.

There were leaches preaching conspiracy theories, accepting money, smug in their self-righteous guesswork.

I went to read the names, to pay respect. I searched in vain for a flower vendor, but there were none.

All I wanted to do was quietly visit the place transformed by a nightmare. To read the names, to leave a flower.

To remember.

I will go back before I leave, just to leave that flower because someone should.

Yikes!!

Ah, I am so sorry everyone! I have been so remiss in my posting...well I've been busy. As you may have guessed, I have found a hottie boyfriend, a lovely New Zealander. So on top of that I'm being audited by the IRS as you may have (or not) read from former posts. Also, I am ending my internship as of the end of this month and the project I was entrusted to seems to be really and truly coming to life. I honestly have to pay close attention to see this kid off as I've worked pretty hard on it. Then there is the graduation!!! While it's not the graduation I was hoping for, the Master's degree is to be awarded on May 25th. My thesis has been accepted and I've been granted my wish, to graduate in absentia, because I'll be damned if I return to that place among those smug asses again. Instead I shall celebrate in true ME fashion as in taking a late lunch with my friends (and hottie) and hitting New York City hard core!!

So those are a few reasons as to my tardiness to post....there are more secrets I can't yet reveille but ah yes, they are juicy!! Also, I have some really fun posts on goulashes so, please bear with me and give me a few weeks to travel through this crazy maze of life and I will return!

Still Under Cover....But Escaped for a Weekend

Well, I wasn't aware of this, but apparently during musical chairs, flowers are acceptable as a bartering method for your time or shared chair...

Added to the lovely flowers, there was a perfect day at Conney Island. If you faithful readers will recall (I'm too lazy and inept at this point to put in a link) I wrote a story about that little strip of Brooklyn last fall. This time was much different.

I had a buddy.



We traveled the F line to the edge of Brooklyn, also known as Conney Island just this last Sunday. After a sun filled day, four rides on the Cyclone (wooden, painful) roller-coaster, and a jaunt on the bumper cars, we settled in the sand with a bag of cotton candy and feet full of sand.


Again, I questioned the fate of this strange piece of sand and boardwalk. Apparently, the plans to destroy the memories, the history, the reason for visiting such a place are still approved for next summer. All I can think of is: What idiots want a sterile, plastic place to tentatively attempt enjoyment from an 18th story condo? If you are a yuppy, leave my site RIGHT NOW, it is you who takes away the absolute joy of a sun stained, sand filled, cold salt water paradise.