By the time I got to my last semester as an undergrad, I'd somehow managed to take all the classes that were required, and then some, but still come up 6 credits short of the number required to graduate. I was taking a full load of classes as it was, plus working 2 part-time jobs and apprenticing with a nocturnal glass artist. Bummer. Still, I was unwilling and unable to put off graduation, so I reached a compromise with my advisor: 6 credits of literary independent study on a topic of my choosing. Thinking myself very smart and sneaky, I came up with "The History of Speculative Fiction," essentially doing a giant book report on fantasy and sci-fi books I'd already read. I started with The King of Elfland's Daughter and ended with Dune. Figuring I didn't really have any work to do, I just kind of forgot about the part where I had to write a minimum of ten pages on each book, until a week before the end of the semester. Crap.
I suffered the worst case of Deadline Elves* I'd ever had. I had this huge document to create and for some reason, I suddenly cared a LOT about the Cirque du Soleil marathon that was showing on TV. My boyfriend at the time kept bringing me coffee, which was great, except I was bouncing off the ever-loving walls and finding every excuse I could to leave the house. Suddenly, the car needed to be filled with gas; we needed something from the grocery store; I remembered I'd run out of blank CD's; the grass could stand to be cut... Luckily, during one of those trips to the grocery store, I'd decided I needed chocolate ('cause I wasn't already caffeinated/sugar high enough!) and lo and behold, therein lay the solution to my Deadline Elf infestation and the beginning of my quest for the perfect brownie recipe. I got home, mixed up the brownies, put them in the oven, then realized something. They were going to be in the oven for 30-40 minutes.
That was 30-40 minutes I couldn't go anywhere or do much else. 30-40 minutes that I might as well spend writing. By the end of the week, the house was full of baked goods and my advisor's inbox was full of my completed assignment. The habit continues to this day, as my roommates are enjoying a pan of mint-chocolate chip brownies that helped me write 3,000 words the other day.
And now--now that I've just written a few hundred words that do nothing to help increase the word count of my novel--I will pass the cure for Deadline Elves on to you.
The brownie recipe I have tweaked and perfected over the past few years to require only 1 bowl, 1 spoon, 1 measuring cup, 1 pan, and 5 ingredients is now yours, to help you get through National Novel Writing Month:
Ingredients:
1 stick unsalted sweet-cream butter
1 4oz bar Ghirardelli's 100% chocolate (if you use a different chocolate, make sure it's at least 70% dark or it'll change the consistency of the brownies and I can't guarantee what'll happen)
2 cups light brown sugar (if you don't have brown sugar; regular sugar will do the job, but they'll taste a little different)
4 eggs (or 1 cup EggBeaters)
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1. Melt the butter & chocolate together in 30-second zaps in the microwave, stirring between zaps.
2. Stir in the brown sugar
3. Add the eggs one at a time (it might seem like way too many eggs, but trust me, all 4 will mix in)
4. Make sure you stir up the flour & spoon it lightly into the measuring cup. If you pack it down, it'll be too much and the brownies will be dry. Stir in the flour just until it's all combined and all the big lumps are gone.
5. Bake in a greased pan @ 375: 18-20 min in muffin tins; 30-35 min in 9-by-whatever-inch (lasagna size) dish, or whenever a toothpick stuck in the middle comes out clean.
Notes:
1. These are fudgy-gooey brownies, not fluffy-cakey brownies.
2. Really good with some mint essence, peanut butter chips (use Maranatha brand if you can find them at either Whole Foods, Earth Fare, or sometimes the organic section at Kroger or Harris Teeter. Reese's has got nothing on these!), or cinnamon & cayenne to taste (when you're in a really deep, dark, smoldering chocolate mood!)
Enjoy!
***
*"Deadline elves are the reason that such writers will often find themselves unaccountably having their fifth bath of the day, or taking a bracing walk instead of knuckling down to the work at hand. Similarly, the elves may lead writers to consume more cups of tea per day than is either useful or desirable. In all cases, the writer is absolutely convinced that as soon as they have finished their bath, walk or cup of tea they really will get on and do some work. No, honestly, they will. No, look, that rather interesting television program is just starting, after that, though, they will start work in earnest, absolutely definitely." from The Hitchhiker's Guide to Deadlines
13 November, 2008
10 November, 2008
Yes, we can free the WM3!
As an American, I'm well aware that freedom isn't free. Aside from less tangible donations of time, occupation, and sometimes life, on a day to day basis, it flat out costs money. I pay taxes, I support local businesses, and I vote with my money by not spending it with businesses who will use it to further causes I don't agree with. This probably sounds familiar.
There are some of us, however, who have found that freedom can come with a much steeper pricetag. Among those experiencing the worst form of stickershock are Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, Jr., and Jason Baldwin, collectively known as the West Memphis Three. By the time they gain their freedom, each will have given his entire adult life thus far, but still, that isn't enough. You know that line you hear on all those crime dramas about how "if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you," leading you to assume that the words "free of charge" just go without saying? Well, there's a reason they don't say "free of charge." A legal defense, especially the kind of good one the WM3 so desperately need, is (to use the understatement of the century) costly in the extreme.
Recently, I undertook to design a tattoo for the amazing woman behind so many WM3 events. The original plan was to design the art for her, then auction off my original piece (snazzed up a bit to be suitable for framing) and have the proceeds go to the Damien Echols Legal Defense Fund. After a conversation with one of my cousins who is a tattoo artist, I have decided to take it a few steps further. I'll post more information as things solidify but here's what I'm planning and what I need from viewers like you!
What I want: I would like to have the piece I've already designed, along with one other, added to the walls-o-samples you see when you walk in to a tattoo shop, or a page in a book of what's offered, or some other kind of notice that the shop is supporting the WM3 and will donate a portion (at their discretion) of the proceeds to the legal defense fund.
What I need: Contact information for tattoo shops and/or licensed individual artists who would be willing to participate. I live in the Raleigh-Durham region in NC and pretty much have this area covered. However, don't hesitate to tell me anyway if you know of someone you're sure I don't.
What I want: A website where I can post the artwork and publish the names and contact information of the artists/studios who participate, that way they get something more than a warm fuzzy out of the deal. Good PR never hurt anyone, right?
What I need: Someone more skilled at web design than I am, who is willing to do the work in return for only warm fuzzies (and maybe a batch of my famous brownies if you're really nice).
What I want: Ultimately, to put the design on t-shirts & any other swag I can.
What I need: A way to do that without overhead. Don't say CafePress. Don't get me wrong, they're great for what they are, but they're not what I'm looking for.
What I'll be doing in the meantime:
There are some of us, however, who have found that freedom can come with a much steeper pricetag. Among those experiencing the worst form of stickershock are Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, Jr., and Jason Baldwin, collectively known as the West Memphis Three. By the time they gain their freedom, each will have given his entire adult life thus far, but still, that isn't enough. You know that line you hear on all those crime dramas about how "if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you," leading you to assume that the words "free of charge" just go without saying? Well, there's a reason they don't say "free of charge." A legal defense, especially the kind of good one the WM3 so desperately need, is (to use the understatement of the century) costly in the extreme.
Recently, I undertook to design a tattoo for the amazing woman behind so many WM3 events. The original plan was to design the art for her, then auction off my original piece (snazzed up a bit to be suitable for framing) and have the proceeds go to the Damien Echols Legal Defense Fund. After a conversation with one of my cousins who is a tattoo artist, I have decided to take it a few steps further. I'll post more information as things solidify but here's what I'm planning and what I need from viewers like you!
What I want: I would like to have the piece I've already designed, along with one other, added to the walls-o-samples you see when you walk in to a tattoo shop, or a page in a book of what's offered, or some other kind of notice that the shop is supporting the WM3 and will donate a portion (at their discretion) of the proceeds to the legal defense fund.
What I need: Contact information for tattoo shops and/or licensed individual artists who would be willing to participate. I live in the Raleigh-Durham region in NC and pretty much have this area covered. However, don't hesitate to tell me anyway if you know of someone you're sure I don't.
What I want: A website where I can post the artwork and publish the names and contact information of the artists/studios who participate, that way they get something more than a warm fuzzy out of the deal. Good PR never hurt anyone, right?
What I need: Someone more skilled at web design than I am, who is willing to do the work in return for only warm fuzzies (and maybe a batch of my famous brownies if you're really nice).
What I want: Ultimately, to put the design on t-shirts & any other swag I can.
What I need: A way to do that without overhead. Don't say CafePress. Don't get me wrong, they're great for what they are, but they're not what I'm looking for.
What I'll be doing in the meantime:
- getting good, clean renditions of my designs up and ready to be posted & distributed
- starting a Facebook group
- putting together presskits for studio owners/artists and oh, anyone else who ought to have one
- doing my own research on all of the above things I want
- Repost, ReTweet, and link to this post
- Learn about the WM3, the case history, current events, and more at the official website.
- Friend WM3 World Awareness on MySpace
- Follow wm3awareness on Twitter
- Donate to the defense fund
- Sport your WM3 swag
- Support those who support the WM3: Listen to Pearl Jam, Henry Rollins, or Jello Biafra (to name a few). Read Margaret Cho's I Have Chosen to Stay and Fight. Hell, even watch a Will Ferrell or Jack Black movie.
- Watch the HBO documentary series Paradise Lost, which chronicles the Robin Hood Hills murders, trial, and wrongful conviction of Echols, Misskelley, and Baldwin.
- Find Devil's Knot in the True Crime section of your local bookstore or library.
- Stay tuned here for more updates on this project.
- Anything else you can think of!
06 November, 2008
Urban Family
I'm pretty sure my friends and I learned the term from Bridget Jones' Diary. At any rate, we've used "Urban Family" to describe this bizarre and often inappropriately close relationship that has evolved over the past two decades. We aren't related by blood, but as we've learned, that means nothing.
I have been so fortunate in my life that it truly baffles and saddens me when I hear someone say they don't really have a best friend. Not one? I have so many as to render the word best nearly meaningless. We sit at each other's kitchen tables, drinking coffee and baking brownies. We call each other at all hours of the day and night when our hearts get broken, when our families go crazy, when we see a Pepto-Bismol-Pink limousine with spinner rims pass us on the highway.
My friends' parents grill me about my job situation, about my love life, about my relationship with my own parents. I know every word of the text message some dirtbag used to break up with one friend and every word of her scathing reply. I also have no secrets from my friends. I'm an open book, and though I say they can ask me anything while I reserve the right to not reply, that's a right I never exercise. We do things that some people think only happen on sitcoms. So many times, it doesn't occur to me that our ways are strange and send odd messages to new people who may be just getting to know one or more of us.
So, if you do befriend us (because if you befriend one of us, sooner or later the rest are bound to follow), here are some things you can expect:
We tie balloons on your doornob for you to find after your boss chewed you out at work. We show up with a case of beer and box-set of Elvis movies to take your mind off it after you've told a guy you were in love with him and it didn't work out. We make you a mix CD and some cookies when your cat dies. We remember your weird dietary restrictions, so when you need cupcakes, you can rest assured that they'll be vegan, or gluten-free, or soy-free, or whatever-you're-allergic-to-free. We'll remember your birthday. We love inside jokes and will let them run for decades. We stop apologizing for the laundry piled on the sofa or dishes in the sink by your third or fourth visit because at that point, we don't consider you company anymore; you're one of us. We'll take up the entire waiting area if you're in the hospital. We'll go with you to your friend's wedding because you're single and don't know anyone but the bride. We'll hold your stuff while you go on the rides we hate at Busch Gardens. If you move away, we'll visit you and send you things in the mail, so you have a piece of us you can see and touch when we can't be there to give you a hug or a high five.
Most of all, we will stick by you, through weddings, divorces, births of children, changes of jobs, hookups, breakups, sporting events, musical performances, poetry readings, gallery openings, film screenings, dances, movie marathons, and all days ending in "y." That's just what family does, and Urban Families do it even better to make up for not sharing genes.
I have been so fortunate in my life that it truly baffles and saddens me when I hear someone say they don't really have a best friend. Not one? I have so many as to render the word best nearly meaningless. We sit at each other's kitchen tables, drinking coffee and baking brownies. We call each other at all hours of the day and night when our hearts get broken, when our families go crazy, when we see a Pepto-Bismol-Pink limousine with spinner rims pass us on the highway.
My friends' parents grill me about my job situation, about my love life, about my relationship with my own parents. I know every word of the text message some dirtbag used to break up with one friend and every word of her scathing reply. I also have no secrets from my friends. I'm an open book, and though I say they can ask me anything while I reserve the right to not reply, that's a right I never exercise. We do things that some people think only happen on sitcoms. So many times, it doesn't occur to me that our ways are strange and send odd messages to new people who may be just getting to know one or more of us.
So, if you do befriend us (because if you befriend one of us, sooner or later the rest are bound to follow), here are some things you can expect:
We tie balloons on your doornob for you to find after your boss chewed you out at work. We show up with a case of beer and box-set of Elvis movies to take your mind off it after you've told a guy you were in love with him and it didn't work out. We make you a mix CD and some cookies when your cat dies. We remember your weird dietary restrictions, so when you need cupcakes, you can rest assured that they'll be vegan, or gluten-free, or soy-free, or whatever-you're-allergic-to-free. We'll remember your birthday. We love inside jokes and will let them run for decades. We stop apologizing for the laundry piled on the sofa or dishes in the sink by your third or fourth visit because at that point, we don't consider you company anymore; you're one of us. We'll take up the entire waiting area if you're in the hospital. We'll go with you to your friend's wedding because you're single and don't know anyone but the bride. We'll hold your stuff while you go on the rides we hate at Busch Gardens. If you move away, we'll visit you and send you things in the mail, so you have a piece of us you can see and touch when we can't be there to give you a hug or a high five.
Most of all, we will stick by you, through weddings, divorces, births of children, changes of jobs, hookups, breakups, sporting events, musical performances, poetry readings, gallery openings, film screenings, dances, movie marathons, and all days ending in "y." That's just what family does, and Urban Families do it even better to make up for not sharing genes.
01 November, 2008
Mulligans
According to the Reduced Shakespeare Company, "a mulligan is a religious term for another shot without penalty, kind of like confession."
I love fall-back day, when Daylight Savings Time ends. We get to have a mulligan on an entire hour and it always gets me thinking: if I really could take one entire hour out of this year and do it over without penalty, what would I do?
What would you do?
I love fall-back day, when Daylight Savings Time ends. We get to have a mulligan on an entire hour and it always gets me thinking: if I really could take one entire hour out of this year and do it over without penalty, what would I do?
What would you do?
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