Friday, March 30, 2012
Four Months (Or Less) Left!
Dad has to initial some papers at the bank in an hour. They'll take 15-30 days to process, and once they're through, we have three months to move out, which means in four months or less, I'll finally be a resident of Henderson, Nevada! I'll have everything I've wanted so badly and much more. Plus, it brings me a bit closer to my life's goals of traveling throughout New Mexico, and to the rest of the presidential libraries and museums throughout the nation. I've got quite some time before I can even begin planning those trips, but to finally have a home, and a home base, and to feel comfortable where I am, my goals become more possible.
Sandwich #1: Egg Salad Hoagie from Pavilions
Dad, Meridith, and I went to Sprouts and Pavilions for groceries last night since Mom has a mammogram appointment late this afternoon. In a refrigerated case near the entrance, I saw one of the "All-American Sub Sandwiches" that are on sale for $5 today. I couldn't handle that much sandwich over two days. It wouldn't have only been for me, but that thing was bigger than I thought! Whoever makes those has to have the utmost concentration so all the elements stay together. It seems like a game of Jenga! But then, that would be the Dagwood sandwich, whereas a sub sandwich sits squat.
In the Vons/Pavilions ad was a listing for hoagie sandwiches at $2.99 each. Upon seeing them next to that lone massive sub sandwich, I found that it's $2.49 each if you buy two. Not really worth it, because the "Turkey & Jack" (Monterey Jack cheese) hoagie I picked up looks like it was made without much care. I know a job's a job, and you do whatever's necessary in that job each day in order to earn the money you need to live, but one of the slices of cheese was jutting out from the middle of the sandwich, moreso than a slice of cheese usually sticks out from a sandwich. Part of the turkey looked torn, and the lettuce was haphazardly placed. I wanted to try it, but not like that. For me, a sandwich with meats and cheeses should be designed well. That was a sad design.
Then I saw an egg salad hoagie that is the exception to my personal rule because you can just glop on egg salad, making sure it's spread out evenly, or at least if there's one noticeable glop in the sandwich, it spreads out when you bite into it. I hadn't had egg salad in a while, and wanted to try this one, which included, according to the label, "chopped celery, dill pickle, and onions." Plus, I couldn't remember the last time I had a hoagie roll. It's the burly construction worker of bread. It can take a lot of punishment.
I just finished it, and the hoagie roll itself stood out to me first. If they make these things behind the deli counter and then wrap them with the price sticker and the barcode and ingredient list, then they've got a fine bread supplier. The same would be even if these sandwiches are simply shipped to the store. Obviously the expiration date is close to the date you buy the sandwich (the expiration date on mine was tomorrow, the 31st), but even so, the bread held together, no matter how long it sat in that refrigerated case until I got there, no matter that it sat in the fridge since last night until a few minutes ago. It held firm the entire time. That's bread I can respect.
Whoever made the sandwich was smart, because egg salad directly on the bottom slice of hoagie roll is going to get soggy quickly. The top slice isn't much to be concerned about. Lettuce leaves were placed on the bottom slice, then the egg salad was put on. It's elementary, and quite obvious, but important if you're not eating a sandwich right then.
The egg salad was decent, well-mixed, but though this was my first time trying it like this, I'm not fond of dill pickle in egg salad. For tang, I'll stick with mustard in egg salad. Condiments can stick out any which way they want in meat-and-cheese-based sandwiches, but I prefer a smooth egg salad.
This was a good start to my quest for great sandwiches. I'd place this one in middle territory. It's reliable for when you need something for lunch, but don't want to make it. Heaven it's not, but it does the job it's made for.
In the Vons/Pavilions ad was a listing for hoagie sandwiches at $2.99 each. Upon seeing them next to that lone massive sub sandwich, I found that it's $2.49 each if you buy two. Not really worth it, because the "Turkey & Jack" (Monterey Jack cheese) hoagie I picked up looks like it was made without much care. I know a job's a job, and you do whatever's necessary in that job each day in order to earn the money you need to live, but one of the slices of cheese was jutting out from the middle of the sandwich, moreso than a slice of cheese usually sticks out from a sandwich. Part of the turkey looked torn, and the lettuce was haphazardly placed. I wanted to try it, but not like that. For me, a sandwich with meats and cheeses should be designed well. That was a sad design.
Then I saw an egg salad hoagie that is the exception to my personal rule because you can just glop on egg salad, making sure it's spread out evenly, or at least if there's one noticeable glop in the sandwich, it spreads out when you bite into it. I hadn't had egg salad in a while, and wanted to try this one, which included, according to the label, "chopped celery, dill pickle, and onions." Plus, I couldn't remember the last time I had a hoagie roll. It's the burly construction worker of bread. It can take a lot of punishment.
I just finished it, and the hoagie roll itself stood out to me first. If they make these things behind the deli counter and then wrap them with the price sticker and the barcode and ingredient list, then they've got a fine bread supplier. The same would be even if these sandwiches are simply shipped to the store. Obviously the expiration date is close to the date you buy the sandwich (the expiration date on mine was tomorrow, the 31st), but even so, the bread held together, no matter how long it sat in that refrigerated case until I got there, no matter that it sat in the fridge since last night until a few minutes ago. It held firm the entire time. That's bread I can respect.
Whoever made the sandwich was smart, because egg salad directly on the bottom slice of hoagie roll is going to get soggy quickly. The top slice isn't much to be concerned about. Lettuce leaves were placed on the bottom slice, then the egg salad was put on. It's elementary, and quite obvious, but important if you're not eating a sandwich right then.
The egg salad was decent, well-mixed, but though this was my first time trying it like this, I'm not fond of dill pickle in egg salad. For tang, I'll stick with mustard in egg salad. Condiments can stick out any which way they want in meat-and-cheese-based sandwiches, but I prefer a smooth egg salad.
This was a good start to my quest for great sandwiches. I'd place this one in middle territory. It's reliable for when you need something for lunch, but don't want to make it. Heaven it's not, but it does the job it's made for.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Sandwiches: The Most Personal Food
Who the hell invented the sandwich? They ought to write a book about him! - Fat sandwich eater in Barfly (1987)
Meatloaf, pasta dishes, Thai food, all kinds of cultural food, really; pizza (which can be turned into a sandwich, but doesn't count because it started as pizza), salads, they're not personal overall. There's individual recipes, and family recipes, and therefore expectations to deliver. A sandwich is private; it's all up to you. You can put meats, cheeses, toppings, vegetables, whatever you want, in a sandwich. There are suggested methods of sandwich construction so that the bread doesn't get soggy from condiments. After putting two slices of bread on a plate, separate from each other, I put cheese down first before mustard if I'm going to eat the sandwich later. I wish I had thought it to be done that way when I was in elementary school. Whenever my mom made me cream cheese and jelly with cheese, the cream cheese was on one slice of bread, the jelly on the other, and the slice of American cheese in the middle. By the time I sat down in the cafeteria for lunch, the sandwich was soggy. I've no complaints because a sandwich is a sandwich. If you eat it right away, then you can prevent that. But if later, then you've got to build defenses against a soggy sandwich. You don't want the contents of a sandwich falling on a table or in your lap.
I also remember that the times I made lunch for myself for school, I loved peanut butter and jelly. Peanut butter thick on both slices of bread, with a lot of strawberry jelly smushed in the middle, jam whenever I could get it. Good for peanut butter cravings and for sugar desires. It's why I began to get heavy without noticing it. I just figured it was part of growing. Working in his father's bakery, long before I was even a mildly dirty thought, my dad didn't think in terms of weight or health. All that chocolate, all that bread, all those cookies and cakes and other confections: Yes, yes, YES! It's why he got diabetes later on. He manages it well today.
Lately, I've developed an interest, a fascination, an obsession with the sandwich. After we settle in Henderson, I want to find a decent marinara sauce, a good butterscotch sundae, a perfect fettucine alfredo, a pastichio as wonderful, or better, than the one I had on my birthday at Athena's in Canyon Country, and a few more things I'm probably forgetting right now, but toward the top of the list is a great sandwich. Or, preferably, great sandwiches.
I stopped eating sandwiches regularly when I started losing weight back in late 2010, but I want them again. Not as regularly as before, because I want to explore. I want time in between sandwiches (most likely not more than two days), so I can appreciate the ingredients, the construction, the taste. I'm serious about my personal quest, but I'm not going to be snobbish about it. I believe that most anything can be part of a great sandwich. It depends on how you put it together, how you make the tastes of the individual ingredients blend. Bacon doesn't work alone, though my sister would surely argue that I'm wrong about that. It needs partners and contrasts. I'm not sure yet what those would be for me, but I do know I'd want mustard on a sandwich that includes bacon.
There is an irony lying in wait: How personal is a sandwich if you order it from a sandwich shop, choosing from a menu put together by others, and someone makes it for you? I think it's still personal. You chose a particular sandwich from Subway or from some truly local joint (the best kind to support) because it suits your tastes. And after it's made and you pay for it, and you either eat it right there or take it with you because it's early morning and that's your lunch for while you're at work, that sandwich is yours. It's what you want. When you sit down to eat it, it's just you and the sandwich, whereas with a meatloaf or a lasagna, it's a bigger investment. It takes more time. I believe you get closer to who you are with a sandwich.
I've come to realize over the past two months that I will never be a chef like Meridith. She's gotten enough experience that if there's a hot surface and she touches it, she doesn't feel it right away. She's done that much cooking. She jokes with me, though I know it's probably true, that she's well on her way to having asbestos fingers. She's not worried about calluses. It's part of cooking as well as she does.
When she told me that, I knew I wasn't going to reach her skill level, nor do I want to try. I'm content with reading books by food writers, articles, columns, recipes, learning about the food culture of different states and countries. I am content to limit myself to making sandwiches, because whereas ingredients meld into each other in lasagna and cakes and cookies and whatnot, ingredients in a sandwich remain staunchly themselves before being eaten. Then, bite after bite, they work together, bringing forth flavors not possible when those ingredients are on their own.
One of the few things I've liked about the supermarkets in Southern California is that in Vons and Pavilions for example, you can get freshly-made sandwiches right there at the counter. I've never tried any, but I like that the option's there, and I'm sure I can look forward to it in supermarkets in Henderson and Las Vegas. In the weekly Vons/Pavilions ad, though, in the $5 Friday section, there's "All American Sub Sandwiches," which serve 3 to 4. "Made fresh daily," it says. I plan to see what's in these sandwiches if we go on Friday. Ham or turkey or roast beef, I'm sure, but I hope they're made well. Solid construction and all. A well-made sandwich is a monument to the stomach.
It may well be a good start to my close study of the sandwich. I want to know a lot more. For now, here's links to my two favorite sites for sandwiches thus far: Scanwiches and A Sandwich a Day.
Meatloaf, pasta dishes, Thai food, all kinds of cultural food, really; pizza (which can be turned into a sandwich, but doesn't count because it started as pizza), salads, they're not personal overall. There's individual recipes, and family recipes, and therefore expectations to deliver. A sandwich is private; it's all up to you. You can put meats, cheeses, toppings, vegetables, whatever you want, in a sandwich. There are suggested methods of sandwich construction so that the bread doesn't get soggy from condiments. After putting two slices of bread on a plate, separate from each other, I put cheese down first before mustard if I'm going to eat the sandwich later. I wish I had thought it to be done that way when I was in elementary school. Whenever my mom made me cream cheese and jelly with cheese, the cream cheese was on one slice of bread, the jelly on the other, and the slice of American cheese in the middle. By the time I sat down in the cafeteria for lunch, the sandwich was soggy. I've no complaints because a sandwich is a sandwich. If you eat it right away, then you can prevent that. But if later, then you've got to build defenses against a soggy sandwich. You don't want the contents of a sandwich falling on a table or in your lap.
I also remember that the times I made lunch for myself for school, I loved peanut butter and jelly. Peanut butter thick on both slices of bread, with a lot of strawberry jelly smushed in the middle, jam whenever I could get it. Good for peanut butter cravings and for sugar desires. It's why I began to get heavy without noticing it. I just figured it was part of growing. Working in his father's bakery, long before I was even a mildly dirty thought, my dad didn't think in terms of weight or health. All that chocolate, all that bread, all those cookies and cakes and other confections: Yes, yes, YES! It's why he got diabetes later on. He manages it well today.
Lately, I've developed an interest, a fascination, an obsession with the sandwich. After we settle in Henderson, I want to find a decent marinara sauce, a good butterscotch sundae, a perfect fettucine alfredo, a pastichio as wonderful, or better, than the one I had on my birthday at Athena's in Canyon Country, and a few more things I'm probably forgetting right now, but toward the top of the list is a great sandwich. Or, preferably, great sandwiches.
I stopped eating sandwiches regularly when I started losing weight back in late 2010, but I want them again. Not as regularly as before, because I want to explore. I want time in between sandwiches (most likely not more than two days), so I can appreciate the ingredients, the construction, the taste. I'm serious about my personal quest, but I'm not going to be snobbish about it. I believe that most anything can be part of a great sandwich. It depends on how you put it together, how you make the tastes of the individual ingredients blend. Bacon doesn't work alone, though my sister would surely argue that I'm wrong about that. It needs partners and contrasts. I'm not sure yet what those would be for me, but I do know I'd want mustard on a sandwich that includes bacon.
There is an irony lying in wait: How personal is a sandwich if you order it from a sandwich shop, choosing from a menu put together by others, and someone makes it for you? I think it's still personal. You chose a particular sandwich from Subway or from some truly local joint (the best kind to support) because it suits your tastes. And after it's made and you pay for it, and you either eat it right there or take it with you because it's early morning and that's your lunch for while you're at work, that sandwich is yours. It's what you want. When you sit down to eat it, it's just you and the sandwich, whereas with a meatloaf or a lasagna, it's a bigger investment. It takes more time. I believe you get closer to who you are with a sandwich.
I've come to realize over the past two months that I will never be a chef like Meridith. She's gotten enough experience that if there's a hot surface and she touches it, she doesn't feel it right away. She's done that much cooking. She jokes with me, though I know it's probably true, that she's well on her way to having asbestos fingers. She's not worried about calluses. It's part of cooking as well as she does.
When she told me that, I knew I wasn't going to reach her skill level, nor do I want to try. I'm content with reading books by food writers, articles, columns, recipes, learning about the food culture of different states and countries. I am content to limit myself to making sandwiches, because whereas ingredients meld into each other in lasagna and cakes and cookies and whatnot, ingredients in a sandwich remain staunchly themselves before being eaten. Then, bite after bite, they work together, bringing forth flavors not possible when those ingredients are on their own.
One of the few things I've liked about the supermarkets in Southern California is that in Vons and Pavilions for example, you can get freshly-made sandwiches right there at the counter. I've never tried any, but I like that the option's there, and I'm sure I can look forward to it in supermarkets in Henderson and Las Vegas. In the weekly Vons/Pavilions ad, though, in the $5 Friday section, there's "All American Sub Sandwiches," which serve 3 to 4. "Made fresh daily," it says. I plan to see what's in these sandwiches if we go on Friday. Ham or turkey or roast beef, I'm sure, but I hope they're made well. Solid construction and all. A well-made sandwich is a monument to the stomach.
It may well be a good start to my close study of the sandwich. I want to know a lot more. For now, here's links to my two favorite sites for sandwiches thus far: Scanwiches and A Sandwich a Day.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Adam-12 Review
I wanted my review of Adam-12: The Final Season to be a front-to-back tribute to Jack Webb's narration style on Dragnet. I got the beginning down, but realized as I went on that the opening monologue is really the most narration on the show. Other bits of narration are much smaller and interspersed throughout the episodes. So it went from a tribute to that to just me. I still like how it turned out.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Boldly Going...Where So Many Have Gone Before
In the summer of 2010, severely overweight, buzzing on caffeine (not knowing that caffeine was causing most of my problems), staying so deep inside my body, worried about what was going on and not doing anything about it until mid-September, I watched a lot of TV. I lived for afternoons of That '70s Show, I watched episodes of iCarly (created by Dan Schneider, who also created All That, which I grew up on, so I had an excuse besides worry pushing me toward these places), I even sat through episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond, against my better judgment, which I didn't have then, which explains why I watched it. I also remember episodes of The Galloping Gourmet, which would have been fun if I hadn't been feeling so badly about myself.
Then there were afternoons in which I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Star Trek: The Next Generation?! Me?! This was when I worried that something had turned inside out in my brain because I never watched this in elementary school or middle school or high school. I knew some things about it through pop culture osmosis, but not as much as talented Trekkers (Trekkies? What's the latest on that?) do. Nothing of it really interested me.
And yet, why the hell didn't it interest me? My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, which I proudly own on DVD. I also read various sci-fi novels then.
When we went to the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in the years after we moved to South Florida, I spent the entire day in Tomorrowland, riding Space Mountain as many times as I could, depending on the line, admiring the star map at the entrance and the photos of galaxies that you pass in line. I looked up at the ceiling projection, watching shooting stars, staring at all that futuristic design in wonder. Obviously the seeds of full-blown sci-fi exploration had been planted a long time before I got to the point of watching TNG. There was also a day during this mind-and-body worry that I didn't want to go out and face the world because Star Trek: Generations was on BBC America. It helped me ignore my immediate world.
Since that summer, I watched either one or two episodes of TNG, but that was about it until late last year, when I got more into it. I watched a few more episodes; oh, and there was also the movie in 2009 that I saw on the strength of the trailer that I watched over and over, awe-inspired by it. So that had to push it along faster.
There's the old Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument, and I side with Star Trek. More planets, more galaxies, more starships, more impressive technology. I don't want a lightsaber as much as I want a holodeck. I'd rather have the USS Enterprise than the Millennium Falcon.
I admit, however, that TNG is the only Star Trek series I've seen thus far. Eventually, I'd like to see the entire run of The Original Series, The Animated Series, all the episodes of TNG (I know for sure I haven't seen all of them yet), Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise, and all the movies, save for Generations, which I not only saw on BBC America, but I also bought it for $5 at Big Lots along with Insurrection, which I still have to see.
This past weekend, I pulled out of one of my book stacks Star Trek by Alan Dean Foster, the novelization of the movie. I enjoyed Foster's skill at descriptions, but I wanted better. I know that no book can possibly top the movie, but I wanted that same sense of wonder I felt when I saw the movie, what made me buy it on DVD. So I've decided that I want to read all the Star Trek novels. A filmmaker friend on Facebook referred me to his nephew who recommended the Destiny, Titan, Typhon Pact, and Deep Space Nine books. I will read them all.
Another filmmaker friend on Facebook, upon reading my intent, said, "Good lord, you know they've been publishing Trek books longer than you've been alive, right?" I do. I am not intimidated by the sheer number of novels that have been published. In fact, two days ago, I ordered from a seller on abebooks.com Mission to Horatius, the first Star Trek novel. I want to read all these series chronologically, despite the sheer number of some of them, and if it takes years, that's fine. I'm an easy traveler. I'm just looking for continuous adventure in my sci-fi reading. I'm not here to argue about which captain is better, which series is better, which whatever is better. My only favorite character thus far is Riker. I'm sure I'll have more soon enough. I know there's widespread hatred toward Wesley Crusher on TNG, but having read Wil Wheaton's books, and reading his blog regularly, I just watch him with fascination.
So here I stand, boldly going...where so many have gone before. And if there are any Star Trek fans who read my blog, who have read the books, what are your recommendations? What should I look forward to? (If one of my followers is indeed who I spoke to on Facebook, I've got your recommendations down in a Word file. But any additional insight from you is always welcome.)
Then there were afternoons in which I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Star Trek: The Next Generation?! Me?! This was when I worried that something had turned inside out in my brain because I never watched this in elementary school or middle school or high school. I knew some things about it through pop culture osmosis, but not as much as talented Trekkers (Trekkies? What's the latest on that?) do. Nothing of it really interested me.
And yet, why the hell didn't it interest me? My favorite childhood movie was Flight of the Navigator, which I proudly own on DVD. I also read various sci-fi novels then.
When we went to the Magic Kingdom at Walt Disney World in the years after we moved to South Florida, I spent the entire day in Tomorrowland, riding Space Mountain as many times as I could, depending on the line, admiring the star map at the entrance and the photos of galaxies that you pass in line. I looked up at the ceiling projection, watching shooting stars, staring at all that futuristic design in wonder. Obviously the seeds of full-blown sci-fi exploration had been planted a long time before I got to the point of watching TNG. There was also a day during this mind-and-body worry that I didn't want to go out and face the world because Star Trek: Generations was on BBC America. It helped me ignore my immediate world.
Since that summer, I watched either one or two episodes of TNG, but that was about it until late last year, when I got more into it. I watched a few more episodes; oh, and there was also the movie in 2009 that I saw on the strength of the trailer that I watched over and over, awe-inspired by it. So that had to push it along faster.
There's the old Star Wars vs. Star Trek argument, and I side with Star Trek. More planets, more galaxies, more starships, more impressive technology. I don't want a lightsaber as much as I want a holodeck. I'd rather have the USS Enterprise than the Millennium Falcon.
I admit, however, that TNG is the only Star Trek series I've seen thus far. Eventually, I'd like to see the entire run of The Original Series, The Animated Series, all the episodes of TNG (I know for sure I haven't seen all of them yet), Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise, and all the movies, save for Generations, which I not only saw on BBC America, but I also bought it for $5 at Big Lots along with Insurrection, which I still have to see.
This past weekend, I pulled out of one of my book stacks Star Trek by Alan Dean Foster, the novelization of the movie. I enjoyed Foster's skill at descriptions, but I wanted better. I know that no book can possibly top the movie, but I wanted that same sense of wonder I felt when I saw the movie, what made me buy it on DVD. So I've decided that I want to read all the Star Trek novels. A filmmaker friend on Facebook referred me to his nephew who recommended the Destiny, Titan, Typhon Pact, and Deep Space Nine books. I will read them all.
Another filmmaker friend on Facebook, upon reading my intent, said, "Good lord, you know they've been publishing Trek books longer than you've been alive, right?" I do. I am not intimidated by the sheer number of novels that have been published. In fact, two days ago, I ordered from a seller on abebooks.com Mission to Horatius, the first Star Trek novel. I want to read all these series chronologically, despite the sheer number of some of them, and if it takes years, that's fine. I'm an easy traveler. I'm just looking for continuous adventure in my sci-fi reading. I'm not here to argue about which captain is better, which series is better, which whatever is better. My only favorite character thus far is Riker. I'm sure I'll have more soon enough. I know there's widespread hatred toward Wesley Crusher on TNG, but having read Wil Wheaton's books, and reading his blog regularly, I just watch him with fascination.
So here I stand, boldly going...where so many have gone before. And if there are any Star Trek fans who read my blog, who have read the books, what are your recommendations? What should I look forward to? (If one of my followers is indeed who I spoke to on Facebook, I've got your recommendations down in a Word file. But any additional insight from you is always welcome.)
Monday, March 26, 2012
"Home" is a Big Word
I got up at 12:51 this afternoon, after going to bed a little after 3 this morning. I felt down because I didn't want that to happen. If I got up at 11, that's fine because I'd have most of the day ahead of me, including one hour left of the morning. But 12:51 already puts me squarely into the afternoon and what can I possibly do with just the afternoon and the evening? Come to think of it, do I really need the morning that much if I'm in a state of flux right now what with waiting for the day to come when we finally escape from the Santa Clarita Valley for good? Yes, I do, because I need to transition myself back to the morning so I can wake up early during that one time or two more times that we're in Henderson and Las Vegas and not feel like I did after we got home. (More to come in a future entry.) That of course entails going to bed earlier, which I will do because I need to be up earlier in those instances, and after we move, when I've got a job again that requires me to be up at 6:30 or perhaps even earlier.
To have a fulfilling day in this valley, you have to ignore your surroundings. There is nothing interesting here during the day to inspire you, to make you feel secure. After I got up and thought I would probably accomplish absolutely nothing today, I immediately thought about that, how there's nothing here, how's there everything in Henderson and Las Vegas. I'm tired of just thinking about the Galleria at Sunset mall, about finally getting a library card again after what will be a little over a year, about driving roads I know I can drive and street names worth memorizing. I want to be there. I want to do all those things.
Still we have to wait. But not too much longer. Late this afternoon, Mom and Dad signed a paper, an approval of the appraisal, or something else related to the house. Well, I know it was something related to the house, but I only paid attention to its significance of bringing us to the point of handing this place over to a realtor when we're ready, when Dad's assured of a job over there, which we think will come soon, because we are not spending another year here. We're done.
It's overwhelming to me, though, and not in an emotional way or feeling like there's so much to do and I'll never get it done. Suddenly, I have all these options coming to me, all these things I can do in my two new hometowns, all these sights to see, all these roads to explore, all these Nevada history books to read (and once I have my library card, I'm going to ransack the Nevada history sections). If we had stayed in Valencia instead of moving to Saugus, the transition from Santa Clarita to Henderson would have been easier because at least we would have remained in a hub of things to do, things going on, and it never took long to walk to the library from our apartment. But having been starved of genuine parks, of shopping centers that feel like they're centered on a sense of community, of living somewhere that has just one high and low temperature for miles and miles (not eight or nine different climate zones as it is here in Southern California), that's why I'm overwhelmed. I can have my favorite mall whenever I want, and also set out to explore new malls. It takes a mere 20 minutes to reach the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue in Las Vegas. And I was serious when I told my mom I want to explore every single inch of Henderson and Las Vegas, and then Summerlin. I want to know everything about my two hometowns.
When we lived in Florida, I had Walt Disney World every weekend and sometimes during the week for a few years, and then we moved to South Florida, where I occasionally had the Sawgrass Mills Mall (take a helicopter above it and it's in the shape of an alligator) in Sawgrass, the Coral Square Mall in Coral Springs, and the Pembroke Lakes Mall in Pembroke Pines. It wasn't only malls, though. I had Publix and Winn-Dixie and parks and other points of interest as well, but I never had them in any one place because we moved so many times throughout Florida. I never had a home base from which I could go to other places and then come back to it. This time I will. I know I can make a great life in Henderson. And I know that when I travel throughout New Mexico in the years to come and go to all those presidential libraries, I can always go back to my home base in Henderson.
I know I'm only 28, and that things can change in life, but I don't think so with this. Maybe I'll visit Walt Disney World again one day, but at this point in my life, I can't only have Walt Disney World nearby. I need a lot more now, and Las Vegas fits it with a hedonistic lifestyle I passionately believe in. Whatever pleasure you want, you can probably find it there. And that's another huge load of history I want to study. Plus, the Midwest and East Coast would be far too cold for me in winter. So Henderson and Las Vegas are it. It's where I truly belong, and I feel it all the time. When we walked through the Galleria at Sunset mall, I thought to myself, "I think I've had dreams about this mall." Considering the dreams I do have often about malls and amusement parks and Walt Disney World, I belong there. All of it, including the rollercoaster at New York-New York and the Pinball Hall of Fame and various other arcades I've not seen yet, should be part of my waking life too. I wake up from those dreams, look around, and think, "I'm still here?" Here in Santa Clarita. But waking from those dreams there, I'd think, "I'm still here!" Huge difference to a soul seeking daily vibrancy.
The word "home" has only four letters, but it's big. In those four letters is everything I've ever hoped for, everything I never considered when I lived in Florida because I felt secure even with being relatively rootless from so much moving. I never knew how much I was missing in Florida until I came here. I want roots, finally. I need roots. I want to know that where I am is where I can always be. It's there. I can feel that vibrancy every minute I'm there, looking to that Las Vegas skyline, going to Chinatown there, passing by the airport and watching planes take off and land. I loved it when we drove past Fort Lauderdale International and planes would take off and land above us, and when we'd go to Miami International to park and watch the planes, and experience the same thing. I can have the same thing all the time now at McCarran International. It's there for me whenever I want it, even when I'm not thinking about it, seeing planes seemingly hovering in the air as they're on approach to land at McCarran.
As much as I think right here about what home will mean to me, I will fall right into its rhythms once I become a resident. I will begin to know it right at the start, making up quickly for these eight years, and it'll be like I've never lived anywhere else, which is what I want. I'll always appreciate Florida for making me what I am, but this is where I want to be, where I know I'll thrive, where waking up from a dream leads to living a dream. What better hope for life?
To have a fulfilling day in this valley, you have to ignore your surroundings. There is nothing interesting here during the day to inspire you, to make you feel secure. After I got up and thought I would probably accomplish absolutely nothing today, I immediately thought about that, how there's nothing here, how's there everything in Henderson and Las Vegas. I'm tired of just thinking about the Galleria at Sunset mall, about finally getting a library card again after what will be a little over a year, about driving roads I know I can drive and street names worth memorizing. I want to be there. I want to do all those things.
Still we have to wait. But not too much longer. Late this afternoon, Mom and Dad signed a paper, an approval of the appraisal, or something else related to the house. Well, I know it was something related to the house, but I only paid attention to its significance of bringing us to the point of handing this place over to a realtor when we're ready, when Dad's assured of a job over there, which we think will come soon, because we are not spending another year here. We're done.
It's overwhelming to me, though, and not in an emotional way or feeling like there's so much to do and I'll never get it done. Suddenly, I have all these options coming to me, all these things I can do in my two new hometowns, all these sights to see, all these roads to explore, all these Nevada history books to read (and once I have my library card, I'm going to ransack the Nevada history sections). If we had stayed in Valencia instead of moving to Saugus, the transition from Santa Clarita to Henderson would have been easier because at least we would have remained in a hub of things to do, things going on, and it never took long to walk to the library from our apartment. But having been starved of genuine parks, of shopping centers that feel like they're centered on a sense of community, of living somewhere that has just one high and low temperature for miles and miles (not eight or nine different climate zones as it is here in Southern California), that's why I'm overwhelmed. I can have my favorite mall whenever I want, and also set out to explore new malls. It takes a mere 20 minutes to reach the Pinball Hall of Fame on East Tropicana Avenue in Las Vegas. And I was serious when I told my mom I want to explore every single inch of Henderson and Las Vegas, and then Summerlin. I want to know everything about my two hometowns.
When we lived in Florida, I had Walt Disney World every weekend and sometimes during the week for a few years, and then we moved to South Florida, where I occasionally had the Sawgrass Mills Mall (take a helicopter above it and it's in the shape of an alligator) in Sawgrass, the Coral Square Mall in Coral Springs, and the Pembroke Lakes Mall in Pembroke Pines. It wasn't only malls, though. I had Publix and Winn-Dixie and parks and other points of interest as well, but I never had them in any one place because we moved so many times throughout Florida. I never had a home base from which I could go to other places and then come back to it. This time I will. I know I can make a great life in Henderson. And I know that when I travel throughout New Mexico in the years to come and go to all those presidential libraries, I can always go back to my home base in Henderson.
I know I'm only 28, and that things can change in life, but I don't think so with this. Maybe I'll visit Walt Disney World again one day, but at this point in my life, I can't only have Walt Disney World nearby. I need a lot more now, and Las Vegas fits it with a hedonistic lifestyle I passionately believe in. Whatever pleasure you want, you can probably find it there. And that's another huge load of history I want to study. Plus, the Midwest and East Coast would be far too cold for me in winter. So Henderson and Las Vegas are it. It's where I truly belong, and I feel it all the time. When we walked through the Galleria at Sunset mall, I thought to myself, "I think I've had dreams about this mall." Considering the dreams I do have often about malls and amusement parks and Walt Disney World, I belong there. All of it, including the rollercoaster at New York-New York and the Pinball Hall of Fame and various other arcades I've not seen yet, should be part of my waking life too. I wake up from those dreams, look around, and think, "I'm still here?" Here in Santa Clarita. But waking from those dreams there, I'd think, "I'm still here!" Huge difference to a soul seeking daily vibrancy.
The word "home" has only four letters, but it's big. In those four letters is everything I've ever hoped for, everything I never considered when I lived in Florida because I felt secure even with being relatively rootless from so much moving. I never knew how much I was missing in Florida until I came here. I want roots, finally. I need roots. I want to know that where I am is where I can always be. It's there. I can feel that vibrancy every minute I'm there, looking to that Las Vegas skyline, going to Chinatown there, passing by the airport and watching planes take off and land. I loved it when we drove past Fort Lauderdale International and planes would take off and land above us, and when we'd go to Miami International to park and watch the planes, and experience the same thing. I can have the same thing all the time now at McCarran International. It's there for me whenever I want it, even when I'm not thinking about it, seeing planes seemingly hovering in the air as they're on approach to land at McCarran.
As much as I think right here about what home will mean to me, I will fall right into its rhythms once I become a resident. I will begin to know it right at the start, making up quickly for these eight years, and it'll be like I've never lived anywhere else, which is what I want. I'll always appreciate Florida for making me what I am, but this is where I want to be, where I know I'll thrive, where waking up from a dream leads to living a dream. What better hope for life?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
New DVD Review
This review, posted today, is the one that has truly made me feel at home at Movie Gazette Online. I truly feel like I can do this without worry about my writing now, since I've got nothing at stake anymore.
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