Ingredients:

• 1 large onion
• Fresh Basil
• 10-12 Roma Tomatoes
• Garlic
• Dried oregano, rosemary, and thyme
• 2 large cans crushed tomatoes.
• 2 small cans tomato paste
• Heavy Cream
• Red wine (Cheap is a-okay)
• Salt and Black Pepper
• Sugar
• Olive Oil

Step 1: Preheat your oven to 375. Halve, and seed 7 Roma tomatoes. (To seed them most easily, just cut out the little seed pockets. I used a paring knife.) Lay them out on a sheet pan, and coat with olive oil, oregano, rosemary, salt, and some black pepper. Roast for 6-7 minutes, turn them, and roast for another 6-7 minutes. Time may vary based on size/ripeness. Just watch for the skins to pull away from the flesh.

Step 2: Chop a large onion, 6-7 cloves of garlic, and some basil. Heat some oil in the bottom of your big stock pot, and sweat the onions and garlic until the onions are translucent. Lower the heat and add the basil, two cans crushed tomatoes, and about 2 tablespoons of sugar (this helps cut the acid). quarter the remaining romas, and add those too. Bring to a simmer.

Step 3: Remove and skin the roasting Roma tomatoes. They’ll be hot, but the skins should pull right off. Discard the skins, and let the roasted tomatoes rest.

Step 4: Add red wine, and let it simmer for about 15-20 minutes, covered. This will let the flavors marry, and it’ll keep it from reducing too much.

Step 5: Add two cans of tomato paste, to thicken the mixture and add cream. You can add as much or as little cream as you like. It’s really about taste here. Stir it in, and let it simmer some more.

Step 6: Add the roasted tomatoes to the sauce, and use your trusty immersion blender (you’ve got one, right?) or your trusty regular blender and blend the whole mixture until it’s smooth.

This whole thing should make quite a bit of sauce. Use what you want now, and freeze the rest. It’s freezes really well, and to thaw it out, just cut some off the frozen block and cover it over low heat. Stir it around until it thaws, and you’re good to go.

Enjoy!

There’s something refreshing about being happy with my current situation, and likewise, I figured this place could use some sprucing up. Please, leave a comment letting me know what you think, and if there’s anything you think might be better. I imagine I’ll be making a few tweaks here and there, but I was just too excited, and worked too hard to not put it up today.

Special thanks to Sam over at 85ideas.com for creating the “Motion” theme, which I have used as a base. It’s been adapted pretty heavily, but I couldn’t have done it without his having created and released Motion. You should go check out his work. It’s pretty top-notch.

For years now, I’ve wanted to go to graduate school, get a PhD! Be a professor! But, currently, I’m working in a mediocre retail-type job. Old me would be going berserk. Being angry about wasting time, resources. That the job was below me, that I could do SO MUCH MORE! But, new me is content to just live with it. Don’t get me wrong, contentment does not equal complacency. I still have my dreams, my goals. But right now? Mediocre or not, I’m working. That’s a whole lot better than can be said for many people right now. And I’m not too far removed from being in that worse category myself, either.

So, grad school is deferred for a while. I don’t even know for how long (which would have driven me nuts too), but I’m okay with it. My wife and I are making a nice life for ourselves. We’ve purchased a house, we’re paying down what’s left of other debt (her car, really), and we’re setting ourselves up for an extremely bright future. One in which I will be able to chase my dreams of graduate school and a doctorate. Or maybe open a restaurant together. Or maybe a bookstore. Who knows? I’ve come to realize there are so many different things I can see myself doing in the future that I would just absolutely love. And for the first time in my life, I’m also realizing that they’re possible. Just not right now.

And also for the first time in my life, I’ve come to realize that “not right now” is okay. It’s funny how gradually the thought grows on you, until one day when you give yourself enough time to really think about it, you’re taken aback at just how drastically different it feels. Less stress, less anxiety. The ability to finally be “okay” with myself, even if I need to loose some weight, or if I’m not sitting around smugly intellecting with other academics. It’s just okay to keep your nose to the wheel and weather the tough times, because in the end? It’s just another path, with different experiences, different pieces of found wisdom.

It’s this contentment that will let me work to attain the weight goal, or the academic goals. I think this is true in part because a goal will always seem unattainable if your present position seems so bad that the starting line is difficult to find. It also leads to greater reward when the goal is finally attained, in that the goal is an end unto itself, not just a means to some other higher goal. The endless goal cycle I always found myself in held no reward, only questions of why the achievement wasn’t something better. It may not make any logical sense, but that’s how I viewed almost every personal achievement.

This may all be old-hat for you all, but for me it’s my first experience venturing from the proverbial cave. Again, I want to make it clear that contentment does not mean I’m okay with not working for or toward something better, it just means I can be happy with where I am in the interim. Even if it’s not exactly where I hope or had hoped to be.

People, politics, civilizations, poems, philosophies POOF! They came and went like will-o-wisps. Like Jude, he began to feel obscure. Outdated and outmoded in a society of quickly rising, fast burning stars. Throw-away beauties and throw-away politics, and throw-away philosophy. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. But, that’s never how it went, not in the world according to Thomas. Hell, not in the world according to anybody. There was never reduction. Only production, and not even by the people who promoted the whole thing. It was shipped off, shipped out. Made cheaper, Made in China ®. Leaden toys, oil spills. Produce. Produce. Produce. It wasn’t a triangle, just a line. No starting, no stopping. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! Another throw-away thought, another throw-away philosophy. It isn’t quite cynicism, though, he imagined. No, the cynics just say everything sucks. And it doesn’t all suck. There’s just no changing anything. Some new bills here, a new president there, but it’s all really the same. It’s not cynicism, but helplessness. Confusion. POOF! Another freedom gone, another Facebook private message made public. Another judge taking kickbacks for imprisoning children. His friends and coworkers branded him with a big scarlet A. Not that “A.” That one was for adultery, which had become another throw-away philosophy, another throw-away marriage, another throw-away wife POOF! No, this “A” was for apathy. But that wasn’t quite it either. The world according to Thomas had problems! The apathetic don’t admit to problems, why bother? No, not apathy. Something else. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! Another throw-away debate. Another throw-away hung parliament. Another throw-away pundit. Pundits sure aren’t very punny. Another throw-away joke. The problem in the world according to Thomas was that people thought too much. Well, sort of. People thought about which angle would be best for Facebook and which friends could see what, and OH MY GOD, did you see what happened to Tiger Woods? Another throw-away news story. Another throw-away anchor. Take a swim with Edna, take a deep breath. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! See, the will-o-wisps weren’t always so bad, just sometimes there were more, sometimes less. It’s their way, he supposed. Some of them true, some of them not. Everybody had them, he figured. Figured that’s what made him human. Somewhere deep, he felt it all would work out someway or other. Maybe never be the same as it used to be, but figured that’s okay too. The world according to Thomas had changed quite a bit as his memories flashed in and out of existence. Figured it always had. Always wood. Then POOF! He’d move on. Another throw-away blog. Another throw-away idea. Another throw-away story. POOF! There goes the world according to Thomas.

First of all, James Cameron has done something amazing here. There’s no denying the intense complexity of the world he’s created, and not just visually. The whole topography is intriguing, in that it is all at once vaguely familiar and entirely Seussical. From the impossibly tall, and twisty, trees, to the floating mountain ranges, to the vast canyons, every piece of the landscape is taken right from the great sights of our own Terra, only magnified and made somehow more grand on this alien world. Hats off to you, Cameron, for your vision here, and hats off for pulling off such a visually stunning film.

But, the story. Come on, now! Lets roll Dances With Wolves, Fern Gully, Things Fall Apart, and Mechwarrior all into one and call it new? What is this mess? Okay, so, the dastardly humans have showed up to strip mine this planet for “unobtanium” despite any consequences to the indigenous people. There are some scientist types who disagree with this, but they suck at being powerful until the marine shows up. In his wheelchair. There’s a huge twist. The warrior man has a handicap. Instead of hubris, it’s nonfunctional legs. Potaytoh, potahto, I say, when it comes to being a warrior. The scientist people can control genetically grown bodies that look like the aliens, which is a huge help in trying to learn their ways. Or, at least, it could be.

These bodies, or avatars, are really the most key aspect of the message this movie really is driving home. The whole environmental bit is part red-herring, part unifying bad-guy, but more on that in a bit. The humans really think they can become a part of the alien people if they look and talk like the same way. How much more insulting can you really be? I mean, there’s the old adage about the ducks, but does that really apply to people? If I put on a yarmulke, grow a long wispy beard, some curls, and wear a big hat, that doesn’t make me one bit Jewish. But, according to the movie, this should be enough to be accepted into Hasiddic circles. “But, COME ON! I LOOK LIKE YOU, OKAY?” This argument is flawed on so many levels, and to a point, the movie actually admits this, since the Na’vi reject the “sky people,” even in their Avatar forms, but that surely doesn’t stop them from trying the same thing again and a again. Just look at the mecha everywhere. The humans have no faith in their own form, and strive to find something to make themselves better, be that natural resources or surrogate bodies and augmentations.

Ultimately, the target of the humans isn’t nature, or environment. It’s Na’vi culture. This point seemed so blatantly obvious to me, but I still hear this whole guilt-ridden coalescence into, “Okay, James Cameron. We get it. We destroy the environment. We’re sorry.” It’s just absurd. The Na’vi are concerned with the environment because it is PART of their family, their culture, not because it’s what keeps them alive.

So, the story may have been weak, and the vast majority of people who talk about it take it as a little more clever Wall-E type chastisement, but what James Cameron created in the world of Pandora transcends all the problems the movie does have. While Jake Sully and the other characters might be entirely translucent, but the world is extremely rich and full of magic that we haven’t seen before. Quite frankly, the plot and characters only existed because Hollywood wouldn’t make a 3D movie of a simple tour around the world of Pandora, which would have been just as exciting in my opinion.

So, before you jump up on your high-horse and decry the movie as shallow, take a step back and actually LOOK at what Cameron has to show you. You might be surprised at how effectively he communicates to you through your eyes. 4 out of 5 cnidarian soul tree seeds.

I doubt if I have anyone with this blog still on their feed lists, but maybe I can coax a few old internet friends into trying to follow along again as I update sporadically and usually fail to come up with anything interesting to say, but it seemed to make a few people happy before, and for the love of all things good and decent, my job is sucking my soul from me. It’s not that I dislike my job, or I’m ungrateful for it. Rather, quite the opposite. I usually have a pretty good time while I’m at work, and having been unemployed for nearly 10 months, I appreciate beyond words the real blessing it is that I even am employed. But, there’s something missing from this whole Corporate America thing that I had while I was in college, and I guess that’s what really kept me from blogging before. I had release.

I had a few professors who welcomed me into their offices to shoot the shit and discuss various and sundry topics for hours, from our high-and-mighty academic pedestals. We were the academic elite. And, let us be honest here, the academic pandering that goes on in the college world is extremely nice to one such as me who needs the ego stroked. But, even more than that, it often challenged me. I had to think quickly and respond intelligently to questions to which I did not always have ready answers. My mind was nimble, and I could dart and weave around nearly any rhetorical obstacle. Nowadays? I feel slow, sluggish. I’ve grown fat and lazy in the year since graduation because there hasn’t been much of a reason to continue exercising. TV has really become a staple instead of books, and that’s really a shame.

I figure if maybe I start writing again, writing anything, then maybe I’ll at least get to exercise a little bit. Maybe throw out a little philosophy, or a few observations. Analyze some causation here or there. I think I’ll start with a critique / analysis of Avatar, and I’ll kick the people who say it’s about how humans destroy the environment squarely in the throats, because that’s a minor point, and you should be ashamed of yourself for stopping there.

Stay tuned. I might just get snippy.

By gavatron, click for Flickr Photostream

The way we often view poverty is represented almost perfectly by the photograph above. It’s there, and we’re standing off, just watching it. We see it, and we move along. The man on the corner, making his cardboard plea for work or money or booze. The man sitting on the street, too tired to even ask, but with a tattered cup or swiss-cheese hat sitting there, screaming silently, “Please. Spare a dime, quarter, nickle. Anything.”

But what happens whenever it’s not just on the street, where you can pass by without thinking twice about it. Tonight, my wife and I decided to go out to the local installment of a major Tex-Mex restaurant chain for dinner. This restaurant is only a few minutes from our house, and when we eat out, it’s a frequent choice. Tonight, though, was a little different than most. Shortly after we were seated and received our never-ending bowl of chips and bowls of salsa, a man walked in who immediately drew gazes from every table there. He was seated nearby.

While no book should ever be judged by its cover, I will admit that I immediately made my assumptions about this camouflage clad, greasy-haired, clearly weathered hardback which sat nervously at the table. He fidgeted in his pockets, stood up and looked around every few minutes, and it seemed he felt as out of place as he looked. He ordered a glass of water, and began perusing the menu. As his eyes flitted across the brightly colored pages, I could see there were two distinct, radically different, reactions. My best guess is the first was a result of reading the item descriptions. It was pure ecstasy. The second was a result of seeing the prices. It was utter disappointment.

His roller coaster facial expressions weren’t, however, my first indication that this man would likely be going without dinner tonight. As soon as he was seated, he removed his coat, by pulling out his arms and letting it drop to the floor. He looked around to make sure no one who worked there was watching him, and he carefully slid the knife out of its paper napkin sheath. The drawstrings of the top of the coat had become knotted together, so it couldn’t be opened properly. He used the knife as a surgeon might, carefully trying to undo the knot without breaking either of the precious cotton-cord tendons. In the end, he just sawed through it, both because he was unable to break the knot, but also because the wait staff was beginning its parade. In a gesture which made clear his inability to pay for a meal, he carefully resheathed the knife, so the bundle looked as undisturbed as he could make it.

It was clear the wait staff was unsure how to handle the situation. There was a steady stream of aprons walking past his table, saying hello and asking if they could get him anything. He talked with any of them who would listen. I could only hear bits and pieces over the din of the restaurant, but I heard enough. He didn’t have much money. His mother recently died. How much just for a taco? In the midst of all this, he nervously nibbled at the basket of chips and salsa brought to him, and the look on his face said he was just waiting for someone to ask him to leave.

The manager walked by and said hello to the man. Her grey pantsuit sharply contrasted his black hoody beneath black shirt beneath newly-sutured camouflage. That was the end of his warmth, his meager meal, and his water, I thought. I felt sorry for him. While the low 40s may not be cold to some, for anyone around Texas it certainly is. For anyone who spends all day every day outside it is. She smiled and kept walking, then something amazing happened.

Another couple sat at the table just behind ours. Apparently, the man sitting there was just as nosy as I was. he got up, and got the manager. They were close enough to our table I could hear what he was saying. “Excuse me, miss. That man there at the end of the row. I want you to give him whatever he wants for dinner and put it on my bill.” The manager looked shocked. “That’s very, err, cool of you. Where are you sitting?” The man motioned to his table, they separated.

The parade of wait staff hadn’t ended, and one waiter was talking prices with the man, who was clearly on the verge of tears. The waiter told him he could get him just a taco, but it would be 4.95. The man pulled a fistfull of change and began counting it on the table. Both of them realized it wouldn’t be enough, and the man hung his head while the waiter said, let me just go check on something. Near the back, the manager had gathered the wait staff, spoke with them briefly, and they all went back to their sections, casting knowing glances at each other as they went. Shortly, our waiter went to the man’s table, and asked him what he’d like to eat. The man, clearly ashamed, admitted he couldn’t afford it, but the waiter told him not to worry about it, it had been taken care of. Anything there on the menu he could have.

Even in the soft light of the restaurant, the tear that began running down the man’s cheek was unmistakable. He ordered, and, like a child, asked if it would be okay if he got a coke, too. The waiter gave a jovial laugh and told him sure.

I kept an eye on the man throughout the rest of our meal, and I couldn’t quite place the emotion I saw on his face. It wasn’t exactly happiness; it was more akin to that deep joy you feel. Not the giddy pleasure, but that overwhelming feeling you get when everything finally seems like it’s on your side. The couple who offered to pay also had their left-overs boxed up and given to the man. They also made a deal with the waiter, that while they didn’t have cash, they’d make an extra-large tip if he could give the man some money on his way out. They just had one request. They wanted to know the man’s name.

The waiter was more than happy to oblige, and he went and sat down across from the man. They talked for several minutes, and he told how he had spent 8 years in prison, but he’s out now and has put away that lifestyle. He talked about how his mother recently died, after he’d been taking care of her. The waiter went to get him some more coke and make his rounds. He stopped at the other couple’s table, told them the man’s name was Doug.

Doug got the best meal he probably had in days. He was able to come in from the cold for a while, and he even got what was to him a delicacy, a coke. What a sight. I’m young, but I’ve managed to turn into quite the cynic, but despite all that, watching that couple give that man something he so obviously desired but couldn’t have got for himself made me realize a couple of things.

First, people aren’t just a complete loss. In these days of litigiousness and self-absorption, it was a refreshing to see someone who cared for another human being. Second, it showed me how even though I view a single meal at a restaurant as so insignificant, to someone, it’s a magic salve.

I didn’t see if the waiter actually passed on a portion of the tip like he said he would. Typically, I would be prone to believe he didn’t. But tonight? I’d be willing to bet he did.

2. Prime Rib.

3. Listening to your dog howl in response to a police siren.

4. …

5. Profit!!

(Can I do that is that cheating? I don’t care. It made me happy, and really, that’s the point. Right?)

2. PJ pants.

3. Birthday Cake.

4. City Limits, and their wonderful food.

5. Sharing stories of automobile mishaps.

2. Spice Rack to make tasty things even tastier.

3. Not really knowing what goes with what from the spice rack and just grabbing one to try it out.

4. Figuring out a puzzle that’s taken you a long time to figure out. (Petals around the Rose)

5. Knowing all your bills are paid, and you’ve even got some money leftover for some savings and some fun stuff.