This Scarlet Mourning

I'm not going to bother with the "it's been forever since I've posted" nonsense again, because at this point I only post once in a few forevers in the first place.
You should be used to it by now, and I'm sorry for that, and plan on doing better. I apologize to my mysterious Russian fan base which I love wholeheartedly, as well as my moderate fan-bases from Belgium and Japan.

I'm back out of the blue because I want to support a pretty cool cause.
There is this awesome band called This Scarlet Mourning.
They are in the process of recording their first album and have started a Kickstarter page to help them with the financial costs. A mere $1000.  And they're currently $222 closer to that goal, with 8 days left.

I will say that I may be biased on a personal level (see: drummer), but this band is pretty damn awesome.

This song is probably my favorite. It somehow manages to bring me back to early high school years, when I kept a secret poetry journal and used to star gaze out of the window from my twin sized bed while dreaming of my unrequited crushes, thinking that surely everything must mean something, somehow. And yet, it's not a copy of anything I used to listen to back in the day.

So in conclusion, let me list a few good reasons to support this band:
1: You have good taste and an eye for talent.
2: You hate homogenized rock. (See: Avril Lavigne, Nickleback, Myley Cyrus when she feels the need to be hardcore sexy, etc.)
3: You hate that 90% of the music industry runs on sex appeal and autotune. (Redundant, I know...)
4: You reminisce on the days when you would hear a song on the radio so captivating that you would listen for hours if needed, just to figure out who it was...and then listen for days more just to be able to record that one song on tape.
Back then, music was good.
Let's bring it back.

So if you have $1, $10, $20, or $1000 to give, every little penny will be well appreciated and loved.


Oh Happy Holidays!


So once again I haven't posted in a long forever. I was busy with non-internet stuff.
I'd like to say that I was busy writing a novel, learning a new trade, putting together a gallery exhibit, paramedic training...
But no.
Long story short, I spilled a glass of coconut water on my newly beloved four month old laptop with the neat built in webcam. Rendering it useless, null, void, gone forever and ever in .3 seconds flat.
 I did everything in my power (which started with a hairdryer and ended with prayers to a god that has long ago forsaken me) but shockingly enough, nothing worked. 
So last week I finally broke down and bought a new power cable on Amazon for approximately $16 to bring my old, heavy, clunky compaq back to life.
 And here I am again.

Christmas has come and gone.  It was a dizzying whirlwind of spending ridiculous amounts of money, miles of metallic curling ribbon, cats forced into wearing holiday garb, and Sutter House pinot grigio.  All of this ended with a 48+ hour baking marathon resulting in some of the most remarkable cupcakes I've ever produced, and me hitting the cold hard wall of exhaustion at mind bending speeds once on Christmas eve, and then again on Christmas day when I nearly threw up crab rangoon while brushing my teeth. It was awful. Christmas on the whole though, was very good.


Which brings us to New Years. Which was wonderful all around.
I spent the night of NYE in a glamorous matching flannel PJ set (courtesy of Mum for Christmas), making home-made ranch dressing with Pat while he showed me why Portlandia is one of the best shows I will ever live to see.
We watched the ball drop from the comfort of home, had some cheap champagne and slept till 1 the next day.  And then made beef stew. Still in pajamas.

I'm going to guess and say it was 2003 (might have been 2004) that I ventured into NYC for New Years Eve with a Japanese friend. After fulfilling his ridiculous request to visit Harlem after dark, we set off for Times Square. We ended up mooshed in a frantic crowd about a half-mile away from the epicenter.
The clock struck twelve, and we saw spotlights blazing, microscopic glitter from a distance...all the while I had been having my behind grabbed inappropriately since approximately 11:48 by some unidentifiable face in the crowd. It was like Tokyo rush-hour subway meets party of the century, and I just happened to be in the same car as groper for the win, BANZAI!
Not fun.

And on that note, here are my 2012 resolutions:

1- More vegetables, less hollandaise and stealing bits of fried chicken that "fall out" of the wraps I make.  I'm not going on a diet.  I simply refuse to make myself a slave for Arnold bread thins, egg whites and crap that isn't even worth eating. However, my hips have gained more than their fair share of territory in my allocated jean repertoire. While I can still wear them, there is little room for things such as doing the "twist and shout" or simply bending over. I would like to be able to reach into my pockets again without the fear of skinning my knuckles. 

2- Doing Yoga again. Because it just feels awesome. And I'm good at it.

3- Growing my hair long. I'm taking biotin. This is easy. I'd like to have one really easy goal.

4- Exploring the idea of baking on my own, as a business.
How the hell do you ship red velvet cupcakes across the country and have them arrive looking as good as when they were first made? I don't know...but some people do this....somehow....


Family Meets Family.

And so it finally happened.  M-3 Love paid Boston a visit.
An event that was supposed to be a reunion with Cory had the plus-alpha of a reunion with Angel-Chan as well, due to some very good reserve day karma.



I set off into town with Gwen, to show our out-of-state jet-setters the best B-town has to offer. Which included a quick strut down Newbury, dinner and drinks at the Middle East in Cambridge, and a several-hour long search for decent karaoke starting in Cambridge, leading us to Faneuil Hall and then back to Cambridge.  It might be strange that I got a kick out of showing them how satellite GPS doesn't mean a damn thing in Boston, as the roads are simply nonsensical unless you are walking or on horseback.  But because of this they were able to get an incredibly thorough driving tour of the city.

So at the end of the night we finally reached our coveted karaoke destination: The Courtside. Tons of people, all revved up. Should have been a total blast except for the fact that they use what they call the "old-new-old-new" system. Which basically means regardless of the order of songs submitted, they preference people who show up every week and folks like us ended up spending two and a half hours buying drinks without getting to sing once.  At the end of the night, Cory gave them a New York piece of mind regarding the whole crappy system.  Luckily he was able to cameo in one groups rendition of "Twist and Shout", and secure his place as a Boston karaoke legend in one song flat.

Either way singing or not, tons of fun was had.  I'm very much looking forward to the next time M-Class blesses Boston with their presence.  Name the date and time of your layover. I'll be at Logan with bells on.  Or Providence, just as easily. I'd even consider traveling to Connecticut on my days off.
I just love you all that much.

Also I found great joy in being able to introduce my home-friends and the Delta family to each other.  It was like two of the best things in my world colliding. Like a peanut butter and chocolate head-on collision.


Gwen Adventure and Cory!!!

Also, they all got to meet the Pat:


The Pat with which I spent Friday night carving pumpkins and eating steak tips.  Resulting in the following wonderment:




It was a 120% weekend. For real.


Another disjointed mess of a post.

To further expand upon the last post (in English this time), I took
one killer trip out to Northampton and spent the day with The Pat, my lovely sister and their endlessly witty friend Adrian. Not that the last post was about this in particular, but a bunch of the pictures were my 35mm prints from this excursion.
One and a half rolls of film cost me nearly $20 to develop. Granted that included cds as I don't have a scanner (or that much patience), but geez.  It saddened me.
I hate to think that the art of shooting on film is just going to fizzle out and disappear to the point where I have to send my rolls of film away in the mail.  Granted the DSLR is a mighty, mighty fine machine capable of great things, there are some things it just can not and will never be able to do, as seen in the last post.
And this is where I urge you to visit Lomography.com and buy yourself a shiny new toy.  Because the toy camera apps just aren't the same. And not nearly as cute.  I've currently got my eye on this bad boy.
And with that said, here's a totally fitting place for me to post my digital photos of the event.


Lunch at an adorable cafe, where we discussed whether or not the use of Ball jars as water glasses was a good thing or just inappropriate. I am for it. Unconventional details like that remind me of Japan.


Gotta love the western mass in-your-face liberals.



Truly, an awesome week. Doesn't even end there.

FOUND: One of my favorite cds from high school, virtually undownloadable anywhere on the internet.

And an overly-ambitious pumpkin carving project, inspired by the magic found in Providence last year.  Inspired by, but definitely not on-par or nearly finished for that matter. All progress up to this point was done with the help of only a small lemon zester. If I am ever to compete with real pumpkin carvers, I'm going to have to obtain some serious tools. And free time.
However today is booked solid as my dear friend and karaoke MASTER LEGEND from Phoenix Arizona CORRRYYY is visiting the B-town today. Can I even explain to you how excited I am? Nope.














00000012, Providence





That Time I Ruined Martin Scorsese's Night:


We're currently experiencing second summer, just in time for me to be in the mood for knit things, cocoa, fall foliage and Sam's Octoberfest. I suppose it would be worse to have a surprise February throwing a wrench in things though. Grey slush, raw cold and a general feeling of helplessness against the elements. I'll take 80 degrees over that any day.
I got a long overdue dose of sunshine and fresh air Saturday exploring Borderland state park with Gwen.
Armed with cameras we set out into the woods, unfortunately having the same idea as the rest of the suburban south shore. When I venture into the woods I want to at least pretend I'm having a brief "moment with nature".  As opposed to becoming an unwilling spectator in a petty couples argument:

"Do you ever notice that you'll ask me a question, but if I don't give you the answer you want YOU JUST KEEP ON ASKING IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN? DO YOOOU!?"

FUCK I just want to take pictures of leaves and mushrooms. Get off my path.
 Anyway, we managed to find some decent fall scenery whilst trudging through the mud being eaten alive by mosquitoes:




Also, remember that movie Shutter Island? The scene of the cabin on the lake, that was filmed here. Kind of a big deal. Not really though.


I remember when they were in the area filming these scenes. I was working at Starbucks at the time. There's kind of a stereotype regarding Starbucks baristas, I think. Snooty, condescending eye-rollers in green aprons, pissed about having to hide their various non-standard hipster piercings with bandaid bits. Well, it's not entirely without basis. You see when I worked there my coworkers and I dealt with many snobbish, impossibly anal people on a daily basis. I think it just rubs off on you after a while. You learn to fight back with the same techniques. And others.
Secret decaffinization.
Substituting half & half in the skinny bitches skinny latte.
And for the greatest offenders, the Everything Latte.
Which I'm pretty sure was a #7726 original, born from extreme boredom and people bonding over not taking their jobs very seriously.  It literally had everything in it. One pump of every syrup, one spoonful of every powder we had available to us.  It tasted like the medicine that used to make you cry as a child.

  One night I was working with my dear friend who's name I will not offer up, but feel free to guess.  We were three minutes away from the perfect close: Everything is clean, put away, and when the clock hits 9:30 we immediately punch out as the drawers are pre-counted, and make a race out of getting out and locking the door after arming the security system.  I believe my all time record as a supervisor was 9:31.  I don't think anyone has ever beat that to this day. I'm REALLY serious when it comes to leaving work.

  Anyway, as we begin to each put one foot through the blazing light at the end of the tunnel, a giant black Escalade (of course) pulls up.  This is where emergency plan B goes into effect. This last-ditch effort consists of bolting like you mean it to the back room while staying low behind the espresso machines, turning off the music and waiting silently. Watching the intruder on the security cameras from your secret hiding spot, you pray and hope with every fiber of your being that they give up and retreat back to where they came from because you have already dumped every last ounce of coffee anyway. Sometimes this worked, sometimes it did not.  This night it did not.

The time limit before the hiding game started to feel kind of ridiculous was approximately one minute.  This bitch was standing her ground and we trudged out to the floor, heavy hearted with feigned "OH HI!"'s and "Sorry about that!"'s. "How can I help you?"'s, barely audible through the sound of two sets of violently grinding teeth.

At this point, "This Bitch" (this is her birth name as far as either of us were concerned) throws us a giant peroxide smile and a ten foot drink list.
"Thank GOD you're open!!!! I TOTALLY just made it, didn't I AhahHa!!!"

 This Bitch demanded something like as follows:
3 non-fat skinny vanilla lattes
1 non-fat skinny caramel latte, on the dry side
2 non-fat skinny caramel lattes no foam
1 non-fat dry cappuccino
2 non-fat wet cappuccinos
1 coffee frappuccino light, 3/4 pump vanilla
2 non-fat mocha lattes
3 non-fat caramel macciatos
1 non-fat caramel macciato, decaf
2x decaf mocha frappuccino light, less ice on one....
and so on, and so on...
This Bitch just undid hours of work and careful preparation for a timely escape and then had the nerve to LOL in our faces about it.

We already had our trigger fingers ready to go on the heavy cream. We were a whirling dervish of revenge and it spiraled out of control.  What we passed over the bar that night was the coffee equivalent of making someone bite the curb.  I forget exactly how many out of the list became everything lattes.  I believe there were a few. 

I would have felt a tiny tinge of guilt, normally.  Almost undetectable, but I'm sure I might have if it were not for the fact that despite all of this, and making multiple trips to help her bring this nonsense back to her monster SUV, she did not tip us AAANNNYYYTHING.
(Obviously before she knew what we had done. So she totally should have tipped us. No excuses).

And it is during this last trip to the car that she casually informs me that she is an assistant for the movie crew in town.  That movie with Leonardo DiCaprio and Michelle Williams.  Directed by Martin Scorsese.
This would explain all of the non-fat nonsense.

Upon this knowledge, my dear friend and I were beside ourselves, collapsing on the floor in the back room in fits of hysteric laughter. I believe I recall fist-pumping of some sort.
Hollywood. We sure showed them.

Upon posting this I do realize that I will probably never be eligible for re-employment at Starbucks, but I'm pretty sure I'm ok with that.  More importantly, I wanted to let the world know that I made Martin Scorsese an everything latte.

(Mr. Scorsese, if you're reading this I'm sorry. But it's funny now, right? - Love, Jackie)



As the exciting plot-line of my life continues to push forward...
Today I went to Target in search of yet another single serving Lean Cuisine and yogurt.
Which was all dullness and boredom until I discovered there was yet another exotic fruit that I had never heard of: GUANABANA:

Which is super-fun to say.  Judging from the picture on the package I assumed it was a massively sugared down version of the Thai Dorian (Smells like hell and feet) fruit. And yet, apparently the two are not related in any way.
It amazes me at this age that there are still fruits I am not aware of. It shouldn't amaze me. But it does.  Either way, I'm looking forward to breakfast tomorrow like a road trip to a city I've never been to..only at least 90% less exciting unless this fruit is going to be an alien, out of body experience. Which I doubt. Because I bought it at Target.  However, there's always that question of 
"But can it cure hangovers?"
Also, tonight I drew a hand-made card to my M-Class Delta brothers and sisters.
I miss them to a heart-wrenching extent. I really, really do.
In retrospect, Delta FA training was one of the most exhausting and stressful, yet interesting, challenging, rewarding and incredibly fun things I have ever had the honor of being a part of.
In the end, even though the job wasn't a good fit for me I regret nothing.
And that is because of the priceless friendships I made.  I have nothing but good memories and extreme gratitude.

Meanwhile, while they're all ping-ponging about the globe I've been home enjoying things like:

A- The feeling of still warm sheets fresh out of the dryer...


B- The idea of falling in Love.  As well put by Lykke Li:

And that's all I've got for tonight.