Cook What You Love

My girlfriend, Camille, and I have become avid dumpling makers. She got me this cookbook titled Japan by Phaidon for Christmas. Though it’s rather intimidating to novice chefs, there’s one recipe on page 279 that is manageable: Suigyoza (boiled pork dumplings). Camille and I have been trying to master it, and we’ve gotten pretty close. Last week we made 30 dumplings at once.

Tonight her family came to town. They’re staying at an Air BnB for the weekend, so we wanted to show them what we’ve been up to. We went over there, made 47 dumplings for the six of us as an appetizer, followed by the best stir fry I’ve ever made. Veggies sautéed in olive and sesame oils, organic tamari soy sauce (you’ll never buy another brand after you try this), and grass fed butter, rice, pork, and shrimp. Wow, was it good.

We love Asian-inspired, eastern style cooking. More than the dishes we prepare, we love sharing the joys of our food medicine with our beloved family, friends, and each other. We are young, but this practice of entertaining and sharing will surely be a staple in our lives for years to come.

I encourage you to find what you love to cook and share it with the world. It’s a tradition that’s been here forever and isn’t going anywhere. Happy cooking 🙂

Starting a Podcast

I’m going to start 2 podcasts in the next month. One will be hosted by a Jesuit on campus and I’ll be helping him run it. I’ll be the Jamie to his Joe Rogan, the inconspicuous tech guy offering timely input…maybe. The next will be a podcast with my girlfriend. We have some meaningful conversations that we’d like to share and we’re ready to begin our first business venture together. Keep your ears peeled.

Podcasts have become so popular because of convenience. I am a busy person. I don’t have time to watch interviews in my day, but I can definitely listen to one while walking to class. A lot of people feel this way. Our culture has changed from radio to television and now back to audio.

Everybody is starting a podcast, so I can I make sure mine will be great? Well, I can’t. But I can put out consistent content, like this blog. I can create a system whereby I add value to the world with the people closest to me. I can’t assure success, but I can count on learning a lot from this process.

Stay tuned, my people.

A Printer with No Ink

It’s happened to all of us. Just when you need it most, the printer runs out of ink. Let’s assume it’s your printer (not your roommate’s). That means it’s up to you to fill it with ink and paper.

But you don’t.

Days go by. Weeks go by. Weeks become months and before you know it that expensive printer has become an expensive paperweight for the better part of a year. You’re going green anyways—it’s better off out of commission. You get free prints at the library anyways.

You end up telling yourself anything and everything that takes you off the hook. Though ordering ink takes 30 seconds, the impetus to action isn’t greater than your crippling passion for taking it easy on yourself. After a year without a functioning printer, you decide to throw it away. Selling it on eBay requires too much learning.

We all have printers without ink in our lives—things that require attention but we’ve been ignoring for no acceptable reason. Maybe instead of trying to change the world with protests and Facebook dissertations we can take responsibility for refilling the ink, accomplishing those menial but necessary tasks.

This week, I will begin taking ownership for the printers in my life.

Will you?

My Angry Side

It doesn’t matter how much I advance in life, how many new perspectives I gain, or how much I understand the importance of gratitude. When I get angry, all of that goes down the tubes. It’s like I step back in time and lose all conscious processing. My body shakes with rage and I become an animal. Everybody in my way becomes a target for my aggression, and if something bothers me, I want to explode in fury.

I used to say I inherited the “angry gene” from my dad. Sure, it’s very possible that I have a predisposition for a short temper. But whether I allow that trigger to control my life is entirely up to me. It’s my responsibility. Not my father’s or God’s. Mine. And if it goes off and I hurt somebody with my words or actions? Well, that’s my responsibility, too.

It’s always on me. Nobody else.

So, I understand this. But what’s stopping me from actually remembering it in the moment? I’ve decided I have to attack this problem at the source. I can no longer ignore it and pretend that it’ll go away. I have to get scientific about how I’m going to be less angry. I’ve decided that from here on out, I will reflect on my anger every night. I will think about every occasion I got angry that day and why I got angry. On a subconscious level.

Maybe this process will help me learn more about myself so I can stop allowing my subconscious ticks to ruin my days. I can take back control and responsibility of my life. This is how I’m going to do it.

Pack Your Lunch

Imagine how your life would change if you packed your lunch from here on out. I don’t mean for a week or a month or a year. I mean until you’re done working. Every day. Sure, you’re allowed a slip up here and there. There are exceptions, but only for extreme circumstances. Ordinarily purchased lunches or snack binges aren’t optional.

A few things would have to start happening. You’d have to start thinking ahead, beginning with your grocery list. You’d have to buy ingredients that are good enough, nourishing enough, and cost effective enough for your own needs. You’d have to be thoughtful, making sure you get enough and vary your meals to assuage boring repetitions.

Next, you’d have to make rules to keep yourself committed, rules like avoiding the room that always has free baked goods. Maybe rules that make you restrain from jumping in that group take-out order. First, premeditate on everything that might get in the way. Then make contingency plans to keep you on course.

Lastly, you’re going to have to get creative. Eating the same thing every day will get boring. You’ll have to mix up foods to get different nutrients. Everything in your lunchbox is predicated on your ability to create new things and make exciting food.

There’s once certainty about this endeavor: you will be better because of it. No doubt about it.

I am From God

On the first day of class, my Anatomy professor told us that whatever affections, feelings, or emotions we’ve ever felt towards another comes from the brain. He assured us the heart doesn’t do anything but pump blood. I was about to ask “what about the soul?” but I wasn’t courageous enough.

But I’ve felt my soul. I’ve felt it in my heart. When I ask it a question, I feel reverberations throughout my chest and my body. It’s where I am. It’s who I am. It is me and I am it.

I believe my soul—and, therefore, myself—is from God. The reason I can’t get a grasp on my soul is the same reason I can’t get a grasp on God. There’s an infinite depth in my being that can only be described by a relation to the divine, to source, to God. My soul will always be with me but I’ll never fully understand it. I believe the same is true with God.

So I don’t give a shit about what an old pharmacist says about Me. He doesn’t know me. I don’t even know me. So good luck trying to understand me, Doc.

Tourist in My Hometown

Today I took my camera and walked down to Fairmount Park, to the Belmont Plateau, and down MLK Drive towards the Art Museum. I shot and created some photographs. More than that, I saw parts of my city I’ve never seen before.

I wonder how much more we’d appreciate our home towns if we treated them like tourists treat them: with open minds and awaiting new experiences.

Dipsie-Doodle

This is from an essay I wrote today. The essay is about Lake George, New York and it was for my American Environmental History class.

I took a bath in Lake George this summer.  After running 5 miles through Silver Bay and its smaller neighbor, Arcady Bay, I celebrated with a well-deserved dipsie-doodle.  This is a term coined by my Uncle Nick, a successful marketing executive, who bought a vacation home on the waters of Lake George in 2000.  The renowned Lemma’s Complete Family Dictionarydefines dipsie-doodle as the following:

dipsie-doodle (noun)

dip•sie doo•dle / ‘dip-sē dü-dᵊl /

Definition of dipsie-doodle (noun):

a brief reconnaissance with spiritual waters of nature—lasting a few moments to fifteen minutes; typically associated with feelings of euphoria, bliss, serenity, and accomplishment.  As many as 10 dipsie-doodles may be taken in a summer day.

Usage of dipsie-doodle (noun):

Nick: “I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a dipsie-doodle!”
Kathleen: “Not without me, you’re not—you stinker!”

And that is a dipsie-doodle.

Uneducate Yourself

My family and I went to eat at a nice Japanese / Chinese restaurant yesterday. The fortune in my fortune cookie read as follows: “only the educated are free.”

Nobody knows who writes these “fortunes.” When they are right, we praise them. When they are wrong, we don’t pay them any mind. Usually. This time was different. I don’t agree with this fortune.

This short statement says a few thing about human nature. The first is that you should “be educated,” whatever that means. The next is that those who aren’t educated are not free. What the author means by education is unknown.

Here’s why I don’t agree. An uneducated person can learn to sit with himself, calm his mind, and meditate on the many observable, sensible mysteries of the world. Through this approach he can free himself from the rat races of the world—he can became free of the trappings of his own mind.

And tell me, who is truly free: an educated man who has learned all there is to learn or an uneducated man who is ready to learn anything?

Birthday Blues

It’s hard being born on the most nefarious day in Anerican history. I was 4 in 2001, too young to grasp what was happening. But I’ve felt the pain of that day every year since then, every time the lady at the Y asks me to confirm my date of birth. I feel the horror of that day in my bones.

In high school I never had a good birthday. They were always ruined with videos of the Towers falling and people jumping to their deaths. One year our soccer team lost to the worst team in the league. My mom brought cupcakes to the benches to celebrate my birthday. My birthday is innocence wrapped in terror.

The past few years I’ve had some really good birthdays. I thought my cold spell was finished, but not quite. I was sick most of the day, battling a fever and nausea. I couldn’t do things I wanted like run or do yoga because I had no energy. I couldn’t even eat my favorite foods because my stomach was in knots. No cake today.

I used to say my birthday was the worst day of the year. Today felt like that, until my family came to visit, have dinner, and cheered me up. I’m glad I can count on people so loving to be my cornerstone.

Gratitude must be my birth star this year. It’s the only way forward.