jookitcz

Pie

2010-07-12T00:20:26Z

It's the brother-creature's birthday today, and he has a bizarre predilection for tongue peelingly sour food-stuffs. The kid puts vinegar on pasta. So instead of a cake, I made him a modified lemon meringue pie. Modified, because I was too lazy to cook it from scratch (also because we had only one lemon), and also because making something exactly the way the package of powder tells you to make it is a waste. And also because we still had one lemon. So I zested all the zest from the lemon, then reamed it and added the zest, juice and pulp to the mix in place of 1/2 cup of water. Pretty good, right? Practically homemade? But I realized that it was still a lemon meringue pie, and what good is modifying a recipe if you can't give it a new name?

Into the spice rack. I added a couple of table spoons of ground ginger of dubious age and potency, then grated four pieces of candied ginger and tossed that in (also lost some knuckle skin, but I think I kept that out of the pie). Proceeded to cook.

The pudding smelled disturbingly medicinal, possibly because I cut back from 3/4 cup of added sugar to four tablespoons of added sugar. But it tastes fine, mostly just lemony, and with just a hint of a ginger burn if you are looking for it, or get a piece of the candied ginger. Which is fine with me, because for some reason, Dad and Keegan don't like it when I tinker with foods they like.

Weird!

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Nectarines

2010-07-10T03:32:46Z

Perfectly ripe nectarines are the most joyous food I know. When you suspect that the next bite might be leathery, but it's smooth, or you anticipate a thrill of bitterness, but it stays drowningly sweet-tart and drenchingly juicy--

As my brain revs and dies each day, and my self-confidence continues to wither, creature pleasures just seem to get better and better. Until a year ago, I would crave entertainment for my quiet moments. Not always, but pretty often. Now, I find sitting on the floor at home and staring out the window to be a pretty satisfying pastime. Not to think. I'm so over contemplation. But to just be eyes and skin, and be empty of numbers, lists, and 10 pt Arial, is like--being a vase of water, purposeful in not-spilling, and nothing else.

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Disappointment: to face or escape?

2010-07-05T20:31:00Z

I received the results for my most recent (third) actuarial exam, the MFE. 3 out of 10, where passing is a six. I am unsurprised, but hugely disheartened. There is nothing like failing at something that you work very hard at, but don't actually care about.

I used to feel fine about stumbling at my job, because I felt like my job was really difficult, and stumbling was to be expected. A year later, though, when most of my stumbles are the result of missing details (oh, I needed to adjust the coding to apply the prepayment credit to each of the quarterly required contributions because it now covers all four after removing the 413 adjustment? how did I not see that?) I just feel like I am secretly a brain-dead zombie, all the time. Like my real brain is wrapped in wax and suffocating.

The problem is this: working as an actuary is the best decision I could possibly make. I am so lucky to have this job! I am in the 99th percentile of being infinitely fortunate! I work in a beautiful building with reasonable people making a pretty fantastic starting salary for someone with only a bachelor's degree with a huge potential for earning promotions and raises and all that.

I also feel like I enter a stasis pod for nine hours a day, five days a week, in which I am conscious but not really alive.

It is possible that I am a spoiled brat who misinterprets her self-imposed discontent as a desire for abstracts like "meaningful interactions" or "intellectual fulfillment." Possibly, I am just too lazy.

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