Bind & CrEATe

Lately, the internet has been stifling me. I don’t want to see Halloween pictures of people from high school on Facebook, and I really don’t want to hear another word about Kim Kardashian. What I want from the internet is simple: interaction with humans (albeit through a screen), inspiration from Pinterest, free Netflix streaming and a place to share my own thoughts. It’s silencing all the other mumbo-jumbo that I’ll never attain, and it distracts me, so lately – I’ve been turning it off.

Yesterday, I did some painting. It’s the first time I’ve painted in a year. I did very little, but it felt nice. Just mixing white acrylic with blue made me feel better about my existence. I also cooked some food with my roommate, got some home tasks done, felt good. I barely touched the computer.

I’ve found that the less time I care about things on the internet, the more time I have to be creative. The more time I have to be creative, the stronger I feel about myself, the more I get to know myself. It’s like this neat little series of coffee dates with canvas, paper or words. I’d like to keep having them, and, in time, maybe share with you the fruits of my labor. I like sharing. I like knowing what you think. Until then… some words for the creative souls out there:

A journalistic fire has been reborn in me. I knew it was there, somewhere, lying dormant. After college (and never becoming a reporter), part of that curiosity died. It disappeared within public relations somewhere. I never really got it back. Until now, maybe.

The other day I had an opportunity to attend a panel discussion held by the Press Club of Western Pennsylvania. The discussion was on the state of talk radio today versus years past. Radio personalities from Pittsburgh shared their experiences in the business, their thoughts toward the future, and what’s gone down over the past few years. The main theme? Corporatization. Are you surprised?

With the corporatization of radio has come the age of repeat messaging. You can turn on the radio in Minnesota and be hearing a broadcast from Boston. Some of that information may be relevant to you. But most of it really isn’t all. Keep in mind, we’re talking about talk radio – not the crappy pop tunes we listen to on the way to work (guilty party here). 

Along with corporatization, there is this notion out there that everyone is an expert. Some of the educators in the room commented that their students often say, “I read that on the internet.” When asked about the source, they respond, “I don’t know. On a blog.” Not from a newspaper or a news clip. Not from a researcher who’s been studying in the lab. From a person who’s writing a personal blog about their life.*

The way we used to get reputable information is slowing dying: newspapers, tv, and radio. Those are thought to be old fashioned.

Over the past month, I’ve met a slew of former and current reporters in all media fields. Here’s what I’ve learned: they have that journalistic edge. They are curious and thoughtful. They are looking for the heart of the story and the best way to educate the population. They may have a side in terms of politics, but for the most part – they are unbiased.

I am all about the dawning of the internet and see its advantages. But I’ve also met these people. And they’ve lost jobs. And they’re losing jobs. The profession is dwindling because people think the internet is the expert.

I don’t know what makes you an expert on something. Is it pure life experience? Is it research in a lab, or a dissertation? I can tell you that from my professional role, an expert is something who’s been studying something for a very long time and knows the field in and out. They are usually curious people and aware. They are usually good people. But that’s just been my experience.

weigh on these subjects. the state of media. experts in our field. the internet and blogging. I’d love to hear from you. 

*Clearly, I write a blog. Right now, I am writing about what I’ve learned about radio. In no way does that make me an expert. So, if you’re a student out there – talk to someone else. The only thing I’m an expert on is my own life. And I share my life because I want to her about yours too. 

This. This disaster. This glorious mess. This burnt delight. This.

Sometimes, even our best laid plans (like not wasting food), goes by the wayside.

I’ll gladly burn dinner if it means:

• having an insightful conversation with my roommate about the state of our country
• giving my cat a few extra head scratches after ignoring him for too long (bad mama kitty)
• catching up with my good friend Kelly about her terrible week and laughing about personal innuendoes
• laying in bed, letting my body settle into fabric, hugging a body pillow (clearly, I have no shame)
• vegging out to a new TV show that has me hooked (i’ve always been a sucker for family shows)
• remembering my cousin’s birthday, the shirt I haven’t yet worn to my new job and where my passport has been

This dish was just not a popular one this week.

I tried making Mama Pea’s Pineapple Stir Fry, but I just wasn’t a fan. My vegetables were too crunchy, the sauce was overpowering, and I felt like I was drowning in pineapple chunks. Sometimes, a recipe just isn’t suited for your tastebuds – and that’s okay. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, just not your style. Same goes for certain bloggers.

I’ve been amazed since finding the Get off my Internets blog and forum. I had no idea this existed until I friend told me I was mentioned in the bloggers they missed category. Of course, that made my day. It made me feel good to see I was actually missed (as it would make anyone feel, naturally). I think any human likes to be liked in some capacity, and even missed.

When I shut down my old blog, I wasn’t very vocal about this new space, and so it makes sense that people would think I just stopped blogging or disappeared. I didn’t. I’m here, waving my hand. I’m here, eating lots of different kinds of food (that you don’t see). I’m here, running several days a week and taking these really neat dance classes. I’m here, staying up much too late watching bad Netflix movies (that hasn’t changed). In many ways, I am the same person. But in so many ways, I’m not. And I needed a new space for my words and, more importantly, my new life.

Bottom line, I was just very, very tired of that style of writing. The more time went on, the more I felt like I was just trying to gain pageviews, leading me to blogger fame and popularity. I was jealous of the bloggers getting book deals, given my background and degrees in writing. Sometimes, I’m still jealous – even though a book from my blog wouldn’t be at all representative of the story I’d like to tell. Thinking back to the way I used to think and feel about blogger popularity makes me feel all ick inside. I felt almost obsessed with blogging back in 2008/09. It was really very unhealthy. In order to “fit in,” I thought I needed to assimilate and be like everyone else. That didn’t work in high school. Why did I think it’d work now? Throughout the midst of it, I lost track of why I was writing in the first place. It wasn’t a place I wanted to be.

Take that terrible attitude, a complete 180 life change, and you’ve got me quitting a blog. I’ve quit few things in my life, but that old space was something I had to let go. I didn’t feel bad. I knew those who cared would keep reading and following. Those who didn’t care – well, that’s just fine. The new digs may not be their taste, and that’s perfectly a-okay. I couldn’t forget the past and move on fully when I was constantly reminded of who I was, and who I was with. There are new people in my life, and they don’t need to see the past through a website housing thousands of photos.

Privacy is such a gift. That’s why I now keep it close, and I just don’t reveal everything.

I really like blogging now. I write what I want to write about. I write whenever I want. I include details about my life – but not everything. I read bloggers I care about. I comment if I have something to say. I just view if I don’t.

I like this new home. I think I’ll stay.

I still remember the first time my friend Amy made this recipe. She and her partner Brian were having a gathering at their home, and I remember seeing a bowl of this on the table. I almost faceplanted forward. I’d tried quinoa before, was obsessed with chickpeas and quickly fell in love with the dish. Since then, I’ve always associated Amy with this combination.

Amy was important for a lot of reasons. For starters, she and Brian were older than most of us, so they had that life experience thing down. They could give advice, had been-there-done-that. Secondly, they were killer party planners. I always looked forward to a Friday night beer tasting there, or a dinner out to a new restaurant. I still fondly remember the time I watched she and Brian make falafels. It looked like magic. Thirdly, Amy was the person who bought me the Veganomicon, which houses this recipe and is a staple in my kitchen.

I did a lot of growing up in Washington, D.C., and Amy was there to see it. I’m sure she knows by know how much I think of her, and how much I appreciated the time we spent together. Especially surrounding food.

In addition to making me feel sentimental, this dish has also given me a great source of energy. Makes sense I’d associate it with such a good friend.

What’s a dish you always associate with another person?