Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Youth and All Her Follies

I’ve been on somewhat of a nostalgia kick recently. My Instagram feed is full of all these clips from Halo releases and someone posted (again) that video of kids from a 2000s year at high school, where it was a camcorder, not a phone.

I think I missed a bit of that being a kid stuff, but the bits I got to have are pretty solid bits. Whether it’s swimming in a pool with my best friend while it’s raining out, driving to Rally’s (pre-vegetarian days) after school to grab a burger (before burgers were 12 dollars), watching my brother play video games on our small TV while our mom taught piano lessons. That last one is probably one of the best ones.

One of the things I always looked forward to when I was smaller was the yearly trek to Peoria, Illinois for family reunions. I never spoke to the people I saw there except at those reunions. My great-grandmother’s children decided to hold these reunions once everyone started spreading out. There were 9 children total, 8 survived to adulthood, my grandma was the baby.

My great-grandmother had all of her children by the time she turned 44. I’m turning 37 this year and while I don’t have 9 children, I wonder if my great-grandmother would understand the pride I’m building in myself. For staying even when I want to leap into the void. For continuing onward, with a dogged determination to prove the bastards in my brain wrong, that I am worthy of being here.

Life was a different kind of challenging for her, especially as the mother of so many children. Things known as an instinct now were being discovered when she was a teenager. She saw two world wars while trying to raise her family. She had sons fight in the second, two of whom were in some of the bloodiest battles. I can’t even pretend to know what that kind of fear feels like.

The point of this whole thing is to say Labor Day weekend is when the reunion always takes place. I’m still on the email list (something not around in Martha’s time) so I know when and where it’s happening, but after my grandmother died, I couldn’t bring myself to keep going. It was different without her. Not quite empty, because there were familiar faces, but more of a dissonance. A chiming of bells that didn’t ring together.

It’s always a time of reflection for me on Labor Day. Now that I’m in a job that gives me the day off, it’s easier to look back at what being young was for me. Young and full of whatever propelled me onward, ready to bolt toward the future of uncertainties and unknowns.

I don’t know what Martha would think of me. I’m only just now starting to shift my own thoughts of myself. But I like to think that whatever exists in the space between life and death, if there is such a space, Martha finds me funny, endearing, and full of the hope that carried her through her toughest times. I’m probably a bit too raunchy for her, but I feel like she’d have a secret smile for me when no one else is looking.

I hope you’re doing well, friends.

Until next time.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Uncategorized

What Even Are We?

Wow, two posts in one week, is it Christmas??

I find myself in this pit of angst.

Or a sort of angst.

Every so often I get this bout of “stronger than normal” depression and I find myself restless to the sky with how empty life can be, even if it’s so full.

Those questionnaires at the doctor’s office all “do you struggle to enjoy things you once enjoyed?”

I struggle so fiercely it hurts and people tell me they’re worried about me, and it makes me think, “Oh, I should get better at hiding this.”

Don’t weigh the world down with your non-emergent saddies, me. You’re not being blown to bits every day, so what can you possibly find to be sad about?

It’s not even sadness, though. That’s what I think throws people when I tell them I’ve been living with major depressive disorder most of my life. “But you’re so funny! You’re always making others feel like they matter!”

I’m fuckin’ hilarious, yes.

Because I don’t want you to see inside me.

I don’t want you to see the ugly tar dripping down the walls of my mind because you would be horrified. The mess manifests on my kitchen counter in weeks of tupperware I can’t wash because then that means something bad might happen.

“It’s my emotional support yogurty jar I could have rinsed out but didn’t because I need to see how awful of a person I am.”

We joke and we laugh about the things breaking us apart, and I want to keep laughing, but I am so tired.

I know there are reasons to stay, and they are keeping me here, but isn’t it all right if I just crumble for a bit? I don’t not love you, I just need to be by myself so I don’t appear weak in front of you. Weakness only I dump on myself as a label because everyone else calls me strong.

Let me sit down.

Let me see the way the sun sets and the moon rises while eating a bag of Doritos stale from having been left open in the pantry too long.

Let me be sad without wanting to fucking fix it because I want to see it in its grotesque formless mass. I want to hold it and see the places I rip myself into shreds. So I can see it coming next time.

I’ll be fine.

Until next time, friends.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update, writing

Middle of the Week–What?!

That’s probably the last time I’ll try to get cute with titles. Maybe.
Probably not. I’m fun like that.

Hello. Welcome. Thank you for being here. In general, and also looking through my rambly show-and-tell of sorts. What have I been doing? A whole bunch of working for my day job, and a bit of everything else. I went on a trip to another state with some friends this last weekend and got myself some books and rocks. I don’t do the crystal thing, but I do like the way rocks feel when I touch them sometimes, so I got the ones that felt the best. I had a blast hanging out with my friends.

Writing wise, I’ve been outlining a project I hope to complete this summer. I’ve been struggling with writing it first because it just falls so flat on itself and I’m forcing moments when they should be happening as they will. The bones are there, now time to stick the goo on it. I don’t know if I said so last time, but I finished the first handwritten draft of my third book in the Maker series. It’s currently sitting on my printer waiting to be typed up. Might do that with the rest of this week I have off.

My car broke down (truly a joy) so the plans I had to go to the movies and do some fun outings by myself are pushed to a weekend or something. The car shall be returned to me on Monday, so fret not, in case you were. I’m not pleased with the cost of repairs, but ya know, it’s not the price of a new car, so, there is that.

One of my best friends brought her chainsaw over and we got the bushes in front of my house cut down and I’m pretty stoked to start my summer outside projects. I despair at my backyard, but I also think once I get out and start groovin’, it’ll get figured out.

Sometimes it catches me off guard how many people enjoy being around me. Kind of like tapping the part of me that is obsessed with hating itself on the shoulder and whispering loudly, “You’re not the trash you demand you be.”

That’s all the cheese on this block, friends. Thank you for stopping by. It was truly nice to see you.

Until next time!

Salisbury.Fake Life, Uncategorized, writing

Bent Yet Golden

This is going to be a personal one, so if you’re not up for feelings, please skip this post. I won’t be offended.

My favorite thing to do in the beginning of spring is drive home with my windows down. Daylight Savings Time swung us back to the sun being up when I leave work and because of that, I get to experience the most beautiful time of the day. The golden hour before sunset. Have you ever driven at a high speed with your hand out the window and the sun beaming itself directly into your eyes? Terrifying. And yet, stunning.

It makes my eyes water.

It burns them.

Tears whip down my face with scalding accuracy that only happens when I cry for myself, which never happens. I am beautiful in that hour. That drive home. I am just as stunning as the sun because nothing matters. I am between the earth and the sky and the brilliance of the light is pulling me together. Holding me on its shoulders so I no longer have to hoist the burdens I place upon myself alone.

It’d be easier to let others see how hard I work to keep myself steady. How fiercely loyal I am to them, dedicated to make sure they live the lives they can with as much ease as possible. No one should ever feel inferior. I will let myself be trampled if it means someone else is able to shine.

Does that make me sound like I view myself as a martyr? I don’t. I don’t want anyone to see me.

And yet, I want to be known. Life really is one great big paradox and I still keep trying to solve it.

The rush of air fills my lungs, much in the way running steals it away. It pushes into me, through my nose and mouth, sometimes choking in its eagerness to give me life. To fill me to the brim with the desire to be more.

To become.

To exist within the world I see.

To be the bold, golden beam of light for others.

The buffeting wind on my skin, the promise of further breath. The sweet grass coming in along the side of the road, baking in the sun all day, letting go its almost saccharine scent as the light fades.

As I slow down to turn onto my street, I understand what it means.

Salisbury.Fake Life, writing

Romance Novels are Dangerous

Bear with me. I’m not about to go trashing a genre that makes billions of dollars. Very clearly it’s a market people want and are all about. But I do want to discuss it a bit.

Let’s take a moment and think about what romance novels are at their core. They’re meant to be distractions. Fantasies about what we want, or think we want. There’s lust. Not a lot of actual romance before we get to the end, and somehow the main characters are in love and ready for their future together. It’s one of those things where we expect to be entertained without going too far into why we’re entertained. It’s time to break into that a bit.

My biggest issue is that the genre presents lust as love, without considering the impact of leaving out the love that gets left behind. Potentially. We don’t really get to see much of that past a happy ending. It’s all wrapped up. Nice little package. But love isn’t always happy. And I’m not talking about the overly drawn out dramatic confrontation that comes right before one of the protagonists realizes that the other is all they’ve ever needed in love. I’m talking about the fact that eventually the quirks that draw you into a partner sometimes might become annoying and not so cute anymore. The nights when trying to be a household feels like an impossibility because you’ve got your own habits, and they have theirs.

Romance novels all have the same basic plot, too, in what I’ve seen from the ten I read in preparation for this post. Boy and girl meet, have a spark, they can’t stop thinking about each other, there’s something holding one of them back from fully accepting feelings, they have wild sex multiple times, one thinks they’re not good enough somehow for the other, big dramatic event happens, the one who tried to leave realizes just how much they love the other, rush to find them/save them/tell them, they get married, and the woman is usually pregnant by the end of the story.

This isn’t a bad plot. But after reading so many in a row, it got tedious. The man is usually incredibly wealthy, completely ripped and fit, handsome as hell, and a loner of some sort. Bad boys are even better. The women are curvy in the right places, but still manage to have a trim waist. Long hair with perfect waves. Career or family driven, never both (there was one rare exception I read), weeps beautifully. The standard impossible people. Some of the main character traits for the men were a bit disturbing. The women consumed their every thought and lives until it was all they could do not to see them. I know the feeling of being in love for the first time with someone and it’s rather difficult to tear one’s mind away from a new love, but the level of . . . intensity and dedication was borderline obsessive. They were overly protective, actively committing violence against a perceived threat to the woman they claimed to love. Jealous. Almost abusive.

The women are typically submissive, even when they’re described as being take charge and full of vivacity. They’re still dominated by the men in the stories, which tells me there’s not much originality in the thought that goes into these things. They’re also consumed by the thought of the man, usually after they’ve had wild sex that stays on their mind for a few days until they can do it again. They snap at the characters around them until one of their friends says something like, “you haven’t been yourself lately, what’s up with that??” and there’s a realization that the woman is in love. But she can’t be in love! They only just met! How could she possibly have feelings for someone she just met? /sarcasm

The level of superficiality in most of these relationships is incredibly off putting to me. There’s not much substance to back up the supposed feelings of the characters. The chemistry they’re meant to have just doesn’t exist. Typical story: they’ve known each other for years, haven’t ever done anything about it, friends pit them together and suddenly they realize they’ve been lacking for seventy years.

What I want from romance novels is reality. I know that doesn’t sell, and maybe I’m an outlier here, but what good are these novels if they perpetuate problems? Women are the main target audience for these (I unfortunately don’t have enough experience reading any LGBTQ+ romance to have an opinion on this, especially when there are others who are much more capable of discussing that topic), and while I appreciate the attempt to have books designed specifically with women in mind, it makes me question what the actual gain is here, and what authors believe women really want.

Sure, the sex scenes are hot. But is that really all the novels are for? I feel like I might be missing the point of these novels. You might be wondering why I’m so interested in this, and the reason is because I’m in the process of writing my own. I read quite a few last weekend all in the name of research, and it discouraged me from wanting to proceed because of how vapid the whole thing is. And maybe that’s the point! That they’re strictly for entertainment purposes, which is fantastic. They are pretty entertaining. But as a reader, I want something more than just a kinky moment in someone’s bedroom. It feels disingenuous and like I’m looking in on something I shouldn’t be. I’m well aware there are plenty of softer romances out there–I read those when I was younger, hoping for inspiration that way–but it still leaves much to be desired in my opinion (no pun intended?).

I think I’ll leave this here for tonight. I do have more to talk about when it comes to characterization problems I have, but that’s a different post entirely, I think, because it’s less related to romance novels. If you made it this far in my ramble/rant, thank you. I would love to have an actual discussion about this kind of thing with writers to see if I’m not quite catching the purpose of this genre. It would be an interesting conversation.

Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

32

Today I turn 32. It’s such an odd feeling. I’ve not been a fan of my birthday for a very long time, but I’m trying to change that. Every year I visit a state park where I live and spend some time in nature to remind myself the world is bigger than what keeps me up at night. My favorite time of year is fall. I love the colors of the earth, the rain (although it’s not particularly pleasant to hike in), the cool mornings and evenings, the holidays. I love getting to spend time with my family especially around my birthday. They keep me grounded and remind me it’s okay to be here. It’s more than okay.

I’m not sure what all I want to say today. I get to see my niece, which is something I’ve been looking forward to for a while. I get to spend time with my brother, and when she’s done working, my sister-in-law. Their house is one of my favorite places to be. It re-centers me and recharges my social battery, even if we just sit around and watch Goose entertain herself.

I think sometimes we put too much pressure on ourselves to be more than what we are, and while that sounds a bit . . . harsh? It’s enough to be who you are for the people who matter to you. I don’t know. I feel like I’m being rather vague and somewhat “self-help” book today, but it’s more just trying to figure out where I fit into it all. I really don’t need much to be content, and I think that’s something I’m going to keep striving for, contentment. Happiness is impossible to maintain, but keeping up with contentedness is far more achievable. I’m going to go make some tea, maybe hot chocolate, I don’t know, and then I’m going to get ready to go see the babiest baby who ever babied.

Be kind to yourself. You are worth it.

Salisbury.Fake Life

Friday Morning Ramble

We wrap ourselves up in what ifs and could have beens, but do we ever stop and just appreciate what we did get into? I recently got my piano back and I had the thought I wish I’d gone into music in school because I love playing the piano so much. But if I’d gone into music, I wouldn’t have the life I do now. Really. I met some of my best friends in the writing department at university, and I had some pretty amazing professors who changed my life–I wasn’t a very open minded person–and I wouldn’t have written thousands of pages for over ten years.

I did some basic math the other day at work while things were slow. I write three pages–or I try to–every day on my lunch break and I wanted to see how much that would be if I wrote three pages a day for a year. The number is just over a thousand. I could write a thousand pages in a year, which honestly isn’t a lot if you consider the people who write fourteen pages in a day for a year.

But it’s enough, right? What is the limit for being enough? We could quote Mean Girls here and say the limit does not exist, but do we really believe that? Are we capable of understanding how much of enough we are? This is something I struggle with personally and I know so many people who do, too. But when we look at ourselves, really truly look deeply at ourselves, are we sure we believe in the concept of enough?

Unless you’re a genuinely horrible person, you are quite capable of being enough. Even if it’s just for yourself. I can’t wrap my head around that concept. Being enough for myself. I’m working with my therapist on that, but it actually hurts me to see how I’ve been talking to myself for most of my life. We all joke about how we’re dumpster fires rolling down an alley, but to believe it? To believe I’m the scum on the bottom of the dumpster? There’s no way to pinpoint the moment I started believing that about myself, but there is a way to start unraveling that belief.

When I get like this, I find things to ground myself. To re-center my gps, so to speak. And I go back to the concert where I met my favorite singer/songwriter (Noah Gundersen, if you’re interested). I remember my brother asking me to be there when his daughter was born. I remember holding Goose for the first time and weeping immediately because she was so small, and she still is, but she is mighty. I think of the way that small child expands my heart to bursting and it’s all because she calls me Ca with all the enthusiasm of an almost 2 year old. I think of the loves I’ve had, the loss that comes with love sometimes, the books I read, the books I’m writing, my piano, my sister’s laugh and her drive to be there for everyone, my dad’s love of his garden and his smile, my stepmom’s quiet grace and speedy wit, my mother’s strength to be herself– all of it. All of it reminds me that I am not empty. I am not the scum on the dumpster. I am doing impossible things, and I will continue to do impossible things because I am enough.

Salisbury.Fake Weekly Update

Veganuary Thoughts

All righty.  So, it’s now February.  If you participated in Veganuary, I hope you feel successful!  If you had some slip ups, that’s okay.  You’re doing great!  I know it’s hard to feel successful after a slip up, believe me.  But the important thing to remember is to keep going.  Persistence creates the habit.

My version of Veganuary inspired me to continue the decision to go plant based through the month of February.  As I participated in this month, I discovered a few things about myself.  I might repeat a few things from previous posts, so please bear with me.

Plant based eating is expensive if you purchase prepackaged, highly processed foods.

This one is kind of a no-brainer.  Prices per ounce on whole food ingredients when they’re fresh, frozen, or canned is significantly cheaper than the overly processed, prepackaged foods.  Not only are they cheaper, you also pay for your sodium intake as a lot of those products up the salt content to make it more “flavorful.”

It’s up to the individual consumer what compromises are to be made because if you’re like me and appreciate convenience, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying these products.

One of my favorite things about purchasing fresh, whole ingredients is being able to take the time and make them taste good with my personal preferences.  I might not like the way a macaroni and “cheese” tastes out of a box, but if I can recreate a facsimile of it with whole ingredients, then I’d much rather do that.

I think going forward, my goal will be to definitely stick to more whole foods as much as I can.  I rediscovered a love of lentils, and my adorable mother (who went a little upset when I told her I wasn’t eating dairy anymore) went through her cookbooks and recipe collections to find me recipes to help out in a way she knew how.

Making mistakes during a goal is not the end of a goal.  It’s the middle of your progress.

Over the course of the month, I did end up eating some dairy products, if by accident or on purpose, but I never once felt bad about it.  It’s incredibly important to keep a positive mindset when trying to change a part of your life, because negativity is so easy to fall back into.

I used to be on Instagram, and I followed a fitness person there, which was a different thing for me as I’m not into fitness at all, but she had a day where she discussed what she ate over the weekend.  She mentioned that she’d gone to a party for a friend’s birthday and made the choice to eat a cupcake.  It was her reaction to eating it that stuck with me, because it wasn’t a positive experience for her.  She took it as a slip up, a poor choice.

I’m not saying there aren’t bad choices, because I don’t need to eat macaroni and cheese all the time, but I do.  I know, what is it with me and macaroni and cheese?  Well, I couldn’t tell you, hah. The point is don’t get caught up on the days you don’t meet your goals.  It’s all in how you react to the situation.

I decided I wasn’t giving up dairy and eggs, but I was choosing not to eat them any more.  The difference in those statements is one is a loss, and the other is exactly what I said, a choice.  Losing makes it harder to accept, choosing is a step forward.  The times I ate dairy — at a friend’s birthday party, as part of my partner’s Taco Bell, or inadvertently in a batch of hash browns at a restaurant — didn’t mean I’d completely failed myself.  It meant I could just keep going the next day toward the goal I set out to achieve.

People will always have their own opinion on what you’re eating.  It’s up to you to ignore it and do what works best for you.

I think the biggest problem I have with veganism is how judgmental some of the community is.  For something that seems so wholesome and inviting for everyone, there’s quite a few people who make little comments to those around them that just doesn’t make it a friendly environment.  It’s an important thing to me to remember that not everyone has the privilege I do to go plant based, whether for family reasons, for religious reasons, or whatever.  It’s not my place to judge someone for how much plastic they use, or how much “insert generic criticism” happens.

We don’t know everyone’s story.  We only know our own.  It’s up to us to make sure we continue to improve the goodness in the world not by aggressively going after those not like us, but by making changes in ourselves first so that maybe others see it and feel inspired.

I don’t know.  I’m not an expert.  This is all just a ramble, really, while I watch Forensic Files on Netflix.  I was going to include a recipe in this blog post, but it’s really long, so I’m going to link to one of my favorite YouTube channels instead.

Pick Up Limes is a channel run by Sadia.  She is an actual dietitian who happens to be plant based, and her channel is incredible.  The amount of work she puts into her videos is impressive.  She gives reasons for why foods work the way they do, and she provides recipes and printable pdf sheets on her blog to help you on your food journey.  I love her professionalism and her ability to make learning about food interesting.

I hope you’re well, and I wish you well on your food way.

Salisbury.Fake dinner, food

Quorn vs Tofurky/Veganuary

Wow, well, I disappeared for a bit there, didn’t I?  I work in a production plant and since it centers around stuff people want for the holidays, we were slammed with a lot more orders than we were expecting.  That said, I decided this year to try out two different holiday roasts by Quorn and Tofurky, respectively.

I purchased two roasts at the same time since they were on sale, and I have to say I wouldn’t purchase them again if they weren’t on sale.  Not to say they weren’t worth the price, but I definitely don’t have spare cash lying around.  That is one of my nitpicks with the vegan/vegetarian meat substitutes.  Even tofu can be expensive if you want a certain kind.  If it’s made with plants, why is it so expensive?  Well, the more processed it is, the more it costs, right?  Except not always.  I’ve noticed animal product… products don’t have the same issue.  Boxes of macaroni and cheese can be purchased for less than a dollar, while Daiya (which I’m not all too fond of, if I’m honest), is usually above 2 or 3 dollars.  I know there are homemade versions of a lot of the processed vegetarian foods, but I’m all about convenience.  I know this has nothing to do with what I said I’d talk about, so let me get back to the topic at hand.

I bought the Quorn turkey style roast for Thanksgiving.  It looks like this (image borrowed from amazon.com):

51DpwvD91QL._SY400_

Rating: 6/10

The texture was pretty spot on for how I remember turkey.  I know there are vegetarians who don’t like the texture of meat, so if you’re one of those people, I’d avoid this.  It’s got the flavor of cafeteria turkey sandwiches from high school.  It didn’t really remind me of turkey flavor too much, as from what I remember, turkey’s pretty bland unless you brine it or put a ton of gravy/cranberry sauce on it.

This roast isn’t vegan (they used dehydrated egg whites), or at least here where I live it isn’t.  I know the Quorn brand does make some vegan foods, but where I am, unless I travel to a bigger city, I don’t get that option.

The Tofurky brand roast was . . . interesting.  It looks a little bit like this (image taken from Vegan Essentials):

TofurkyRoastLG1

Rating: 7/10

This one was interesting because as you can see on the package, it shows a little bit of stuffing in the center, with a lot of, well, meat.  Mine was mostly stuffing, which wouldn’t have been too bad except I didn’t find the stuffing to be particularly good.  I wanted more of the turkey.  I’d say if the roast had the texture of Quorn’s, but the flavor of Tofurky, it would have been perfect.

There are a lot of vegetarians who say Tofurky has a distinct flavor to it, and it does.  It’s got that vital wheat gluten flavor in the background, because while they do produce mostly soy stuff, the gluten gives it the texture of meat.  Much like a seitan.

I did have leftovers from both, and while the Quorn roast was all right on day two, I made the most epic leftover sandwich with the Tofurky after I sliced it.  I used the So Delicious Cheddar Jack and some Veganaise on two slices of Dave’s Killer Bread (with some Sweet Baby Ray’s to round it out).  Best sandwich I’ve had as a vegetarian.  No lie.

If I had to choose between the two, I’d go with the Tofurky one.  Both had issues for me that would make it difficult to repurchase either one, but if I was told I had to, it’d be Tofurky.

Changing gears a little bit, I’m going to discuss my food plan for the month of January.  Please pardon me if this post gets a bit lengthy.  Food is something I have a weird relationship with, as I’m sure a lot of people do.

For January, I’ve challenged myself to participate in Veganuary.  For those who don’t know, Veganuary is where you spend the month of January living the vegan way, which is more easily explained on the Veganuary website.  You can sign up to pledge, get a starter kit, and there’s just a whole lot of information you can get there.

My goal is to maintain a strict vegetarian diet, and eat far less processed sugar.  I know that’s literally not vegan, but I don’t consider myself a vegan.  I consider myself a vegetarian.  So for me, the challenge will be eating little to no animal products such as eggs and/dairy.  I say little to no because I purchased some meat free sausage recently that has egg whites in it.  I’m not going to throw away food I already have because that seems a bit un-vegan to me (in the low waste sense).

I’m not a vegan because I use plastic bags and paper towels at home.  I have sometimes eaten cheese and eggs.  My reasons for this are my own, and I feel like a lot of people judge others for the way they eat which is really disturbing to me.  Like I said, I work in a production plant and not very many people know I’m vegetarian.  I don’t go around spouting it because it’s my personal business and if we happen to have a free food day where there’s nothing I want to eat, then I don’t eat it.  I don’t stand in line saying it’s rude they don’t have food for me.

It really is something appalling when I watch my favorite YouTubers and the comments are filled with people saying “I can’t believe you call yourself vegan when you _______.”

Who are we to judge other people for how they live their lives?  It all goes back to the whole treat others the way you want to be treated, and it reflects poorly on ourselves if we say we’re all about saving the world when we’re horrid to each other over something as simple as food.

So, my personal goal, like I said, is to stick to a purely vegetarian diet.  I’m excited to try it out and see how far I can go.  Who knows, I might be able to keep it going after January.

TL;DR — Tofurky’s better, I’m doing Veganuary on my own terms.