cooking exploits

When I was younger I would marvel at my sister's culinary skills and desperately try to repeat them. Bethany was the amazing chocolate chip cookie maker of which when I duplicated the SAME RECIPE would come out with crispy flat sad looking cookie like things. Elise was the master of banana bread, adding a bit of her own twist to the classic formula that she graciously shared with me. Of course, to no surprises on my end, my version of the banana bread would harden after so many hours and become petrified in a matter of days. Very sad for me. 

All this time I was looking to make something my mother could be proud of and my father could bring to work for his secretaries to fawn over like they did for my sister's creations. I had worse luck with making brownies from scratch, where not only did the center fall to the bottom of the pan, but the removal process from said pan left the sad brownies in an even more sad looking state. 

My baking adventures seemed to only be disastrous. 

But with persistence, I've asked my mother to teach me a few things about cooking over the past two summers with success. I now am learning the process and the chemistry to cooking and baking that probably led my former catastrophes to such a bitter sweet ending. 

Now in college dating a man with a kitchen I've been spending my free moments during the weekend finding my domesticated side making those infamous chocolate chip cookies and banana bread and even spreading my tastes to a few new things. I've especially made use of a wal-mart bought mini muffin tray that i've created lemon poppy seed muffins and mini muffin shaped brownies in. Wildly successful I highly recommend them. However, be sure to note that depending upon the recipe you will be making many more muffins in mini form than in regular, and one box of brownie mix for a 9 by 9 or so inch tray will make about 21 or so mini muffin shaped brownies. Their cooking time is also much faster. 

Thankfully, I'll be able to take these skills and the cookware I've been collecting to my new apartment next year. My current roommate Kasey and a former floor mate Katie-Mae will be occupying the top floor triple suite of 514 Euclid next year and hopefully through our senior year as well. Of course, Kasey and I hope to spend our Fall semester of '09 in London pursuing our respective communications careers hosted through Newhouse. So subletting is in the cards for that one, but luckily I know good hearted girls from First Year Players that are planning on being over seas bound in the spring. Very exciting 

I'll be sure to post pictures of my next cooking escapades. 

"Communication Is An Art"

Thank you Mom for the inspiration. 

For the past three to four days I've been sequestered at the Newhouse labs working on various projects for my Graphics class. Our latest assignment was to create a logo for ourselves that we could paste on stationary, envelopes and business cards. I went a little wild and had a lovely time, though many of those hours were exceedingly early (730 am) to exceedingly late (1200 pm) for a normal college kid to be doing work. Mind you many college kids stay up till at least four, but they're stupid and not working at all. 

anyway 

I figured you'd like a taste of my work. So here is my project, and I'll make sure to include future projects as well. 

Business card front

Business card back

Envelope front

Envelope back 

Stationary 

there are 64 subsets to the definition of time

As I was leaving Newhouse today (my home college where I get all my communications courses) I heard this girl murmuring to her friend

"... and I thought, here I am turning 20, leaving my teenage years. It really made me turn over a new beginning..."

As it happens, I will be turning 19 in three days. Not quite the new leaf exploits that this girl was broadcasting, but a marker nonetheless. I find birthdays odd, because I know the age I'm leaving feels far behind me (I'm not 18 anymore and I certainly don't feel 18), but I can never quite adjust to the newer older foreign age (19? Seriously? Check my records?). Though logially, once that birthday marker has been hit, the age you've turned isn't really your age at all. Any three year old will tell you they are really three and three quarters, not like that kid over there who is three and one fourth, they're younger I'm older, it matters. We spend one day a certain age, but then take an entire year snuggling into the clothes of the next. I'm not really 18, I'm working my way to 19. Of course, when I get there I will only ride through that train station onto my next decade. This argument would never hold in court :)

That year stretches into an infinitely laborious tedious forever, that looking back blows by briefer than the beating of hummingbird's wings. My mother will gladly attest to the much too much too fast growing up of her daughters and the terrible taunting of her classroom clock. It is all a matter of perception. Our most passionate emotions seem to draw time out, while our distracted mind lets time skip past us like a schoolboy cutting class. 

To illustrate this more personally and after much pestering, I'll finally mention someone very important to me

Brian

As of tomorrow, Brian and I will have been dating for eight months - a feat previously matched by former boyfriends, but not as much enjoyed. I've found in Brian a fondness that matches me more completely than most, and an unbiased understanding that I love. Love. It's Love. 

The moments I spend with Brian are varied, some in his solo company, many times over meals, and often with other people whether with friends at a rehearsal or in a crowd. Being the sappy couple we are we discuss everything from books to baking and breakdancing and naturally, this. The movie ending "time stands still when I'm near you!!" is not quite our professions to each other, but the underlying scientific curiosity is there. Brian is a math major and I am a born wonderer, so we dig deep into philosophical debates by outlining logic and observation. We're nerds.  

I have a strong admiration for Brian, so naturally my senses and perception are heightened. I like being around him, so I'm happy, my brian is engaged. I like to learn new things about him; what makes him laugh, the pattern of freckles across his nose, or what his fingers feel like interlaced with mine. Paying attention to detail and focusing on minute attributes stores more information in the memory causing the time we spend together to seemingly span forever. I will remember exactly how he smiled when we said goodbye, but the walk home will be lost as soon as I reach the elevators to my dorm. 

Of course, the brain also reacts this way in the face of negative thoughts. Though we are certainly happy, there have certainly been unhappy times. These moments are marked just as vividly and oppressively elongated as my most beloved memories. It is the strangely adverse effect. The sad moment is pushed toward the edge of the mind, but the strong emotions that created it (i.e. fear, anger, grief) make it's presence colorful and detailed. Of course there are always exceptions to this - "I was blinded by fear" "I was so angry, I don't even remember what I was saying." But the timbre of the event remains. Even if you cannot recall what was said, you can practically taste the catalyst. 

No matter, sappiness aside, impassioned emotions are what we remember most vividly. Logically because we don't live our lives one dramatic moment to the next (well, most of us). The out of the ordinary stand out while the normal slides past. Time is inevitably on my side, win or lose. Birthdays emphatically stress this point. Maybe that's why my father ever denies having one. There is never enough when things must be done, and there is much too much something more important is pressing. The bane of our existance for sure. But it can be merciful. Those beautiful moments can be just as electric in the mind, gracefully alleviating any oncoming depression I may have triggered with this turn in blog theme. 

But that's what it's for, guidance. To forget the follies and triumphs of the past is to live foolishly and ignorantly. I wouldn't trade my memories for any other life. Maybe that's my new beginning. 

I'll take it. 

Photo Album

to visually illustrate my skills from my photography exploits i'll post multiple "photo album" blogs. first we look at my first photography class, dubbed here as PHO 301 for future reference, as that is where it all began. this was my final portfolio:

weathering the storm

It's common knowledge that Cold and Syracuse were created at the same time in the universe, and therefore are inextricably linked. There are moments that Cold takes a vacation (usually in the summer) and brings in Sweltering as it's replacement tutor, but Sweltering is well loved in the tropics, and usually can't stay. 

To somewhat quote a comedian I saw on comedy central, if Syracuse was an air conditioning unit, it would only have two switches: off, and Antarctica. Unfortunately, the off button has been dismantled. 

Many central New York natives and North East or Mid West settlers (like me and my collegiate friends) are familiar with this weather, and find no harm in adapting. Of course there are the few from California or the Virgin Islands to whom we only shake our heads at when they don their hats, scarves, parkas and other essential "keep toasty" layers when the barometer dips below 65 degrees. 

Today marked the first day where the afternoon high barely reached above 60, a truly beautiful fall day. Though, I am very biased as Fall is my favorite season; the leaves change color, the air gets sharp and clean with the brisk chill, free candy, and my birthday!

Plus, I believe fall fashions the most opportune photography moments. A grey sky is beautiful as it filters the light evenly over landscapes, and colors are able to stand out clearer against a neutral background. 

I was walking between Maxwell school of citizenship and Crouse College school of music on my way back to the dorm, and I noticed the curve of a wall on Maxwell was the perfect photo shoot area with it's red brick and white framed windows. It was almost like a Victorian style colonial house, so naturally I imagined dragging my roommate Kasey to the spot (of whom I used to model in bunches of my photography projects last semester) and stealing a Victorian dress from the drama department in some shade of bright blue to match her eyes with a similar parasol. I think she would kill me, but it would make a fantastic picture. 

As you can see, I find her very photogenic. 

So I'm delighted that the weather has finally turned to something bearable in my description. My mother would love to live somewhere in a constant state of sunshine and 80 degrees, which is nice since she was born in Hawai'i, so she's a heat seeker by birth, but I'm not sure I could stand it. 

And I look better in Fall suited clothing too! Who doesn't love a cozy and fashionable scarf, hat and gloves combination. 

Plus, this also denotes campfire and comfy fireplace season where one can drink hot chocolate and hot cider non-guiltily.  

Hooray.  I love Fall. 

a little background information..

Before divulging into the intricate details of my everyday, I'm sure everything will be much easier to follow if I go through a short history of my past summer and a few extra details, therefore:

When I began applying to colleges, I naturally assumed two tracks could govern my life - music or law. 

My family has been firmly grounded in both long before my birth, as my parents are strong believers in the beauty of music and the truth in the law. Very good teaching methods for a child I think. 

So I was leaning toward majoring in vocal performance or pre law. I was a bit hesitant to choose one entirely, because as much as I love to sing I want to have a secure job that will sustain me, though as much as my bleeding heart wants to defend the righteous I don't want to give up on my passion. 

So developing one moot point after another in my mind, my counselor steered me toward a balance of sorts between the two in communication studies. 

Lord knows that was one of the most nonspecific choices ever, but I found my safe haven at a university I never thought to apply to in the beginning, nor believed I would attend if I were accepted for other extraneous reasons. 

That was mainly because I was untrained in the amazing opportunities and elite education I would receive at Syracuse University at the Newhouse School of Public Communications. 

I arrived as a member of the Syracuse University Marching Band (SUMB) for band camp as a part of the color-guard, and slowly moved into colligate living. 

Originally I was leaning toward Public Relations as a field of study. It seemed safe enough, and an applicable relation to law school or representing a theatre company depending upon what route I wanted. 

But then I surprised myself again and took a leap. 

I wanted to enter a field that would remain challenging but inspiring to me throughout my entire career, so I dabbled in the art of photography, and decided that it was a lot harder than I originally thought. 

Which is exactly what I was looking for. 

In the optimal world in my head I would love to impact the world with one thing. Something "provocative" as my professors would say, and lasting, like on AP (associated press, not advanced placement classes you silly silly people)

I find photography fascinating. 

It's truly a way to communicate live events to people that the artist finds especially invigorating or important.

Unlike print journalism, there is something to look at so the reader doesn't have to stretch their imagination - especially if it's written about something they've never experienced before. And unlike film, the image is focused on a specific moment - the "stop and take a look around" moment greeting cards request of you constantly, though the image may not always remind you of roses. 

It stresses the striking or beauty of an instant. Something to cherish or explore further by examining a flash of time. What isn't challenging or invigorating about trying to create that?

This leads me to my past summer.

I sort of recklessly threw out my name and my little experience to some local newspapers around and about where I live without much return till I called the little gem of a paper called The Star Beacon in the town where my father works, about a 30 minute transit where I live, in Ashtabula, Ohio. 

They didn't have regular funding for an intern, so they pulled me aboard as a sort of free lance photographer under the direction of the lovable and very wise Bill West with the infamous Neil Freider as my editor. 

I was to shadow Bill, and later Warren Dillaway, and submit any photos I took along the way. 

This path not only led me to new methods of photography and wonderful mentors, but I also got to dabble in the writing department finishing my summer season with solo trips to event sites and taking photos to accompany my own stories. 

Seeing my name in print as a cutline (photo) and as a byline (article) has been my proudest moment to date. 

Now an avid Nikon girl, I've stashed away my camera briefly to dabble in the world of graphics (both as a separate interest and as a requirement for my photojournalism major). 

It seems my adventure as a slightly smarter sophomore will be much more interesting than my frightening freshman year. 

I can't wait. 

Have I been here before?

So it's my second or so week back at Syracuse University, my undergraduate alma mater home away from home citrus-y love.

I've been through another grueling but ultimately rewarding band camp experience (of whom our new freshman are really kick butt) and have finished my first week of classes.

There are lots of things to be expected - pay checks, reading assignments, football games, dining hall meals, long walks on the quad and such. You know, what every late teenage girl dreams about in her sophomore year.

With everything beginning again, I've found everything is a bit more familiar and easier to follow.

The whole freshman oblivion has worn off to a point (though I still find myself lost on campus when I'm directed to buildings I've never had to step foot in before, but I'm not the only one. Seniors I call for directions to previously mentioned buildings have no idea either where the heck this freaking class is located, so I'm kind of on my own to find it. But luckily I'm not horrendously shy in crowds, so I ask around till I'm directed appropriately) and a sense of repetition is making me more comfortable by the hour.

Therefore

I've begun this blog as assistance to my poor parents and other extraneous family members (both blood related and those persons close to my heart though not in my genealogy) who within their busy schedules have been following my older sister's blog rather religiously, so I figured that with my awful communication skills (insert inevitable jokes about my major here) any bit helps.

I've also been told that my writing is anecdotal enough to be enjoyable. Through this I aspire to improve upon those entertainment skills and maybe fix some simple grammatical errors as well.

enjoy, this is mainly for you.