Hello. I am what I am...a facebookholic (First step is admitting it to yourself). That, I have no issue with, I happily accept my lack of willpower and life. The truth of the matter is, as soon as I log in, I may as well have pinned my soul up on a washing line wayyy out of reach, the unhooking of which requires long, hard effort that I cannot possibly be expected to face. In this way, I pride myself on being quite the connaisseur on matters of the bookofface. (teehee...the book-office! I had an overwhelming desire to point that out...) And my verdict on recent events, folks (*leans in confidentially*), is: not impressed.
I have grown used to the idea that Facebook never will be perfect. It has got to the point where, like with Xfactochhh, I comfortably moan and become incensed by everything to do with it (mostly its lack of point), and yet still hold no extreme need to tear myself away. Again, this I handle rather admirably, in my *cough* unbiased opinion. I have grown to almost enjoy (inwardly) screaming 'LEARN TO SPELL!' at my screen; giving angry eye rolls has its habitual appeal; and I become almost euphoric with joy on seeing "your" and "you're" correctly distinguished. I shall graze quickly (ironic statement of the century) over my incredulation at those who feel comfortable creating groups with spelling errors in, as I cannot fully trust myself to 'understand both sides of the argument' , when the certainty of self that assumes the whole of the world will understand one's meaning despite one's not bothering to use the correct form of one's intended word, I find bewildering. Surely the urge to create a group can be withheld for at most a minute, in order to verify its ease-of-comprehension? Nono, it would seem most of these group-creators are content with carelessly tossing their ill-expressed assertions into the facebook waters, ready to be juggled about by bored surfers (room for a 'board' joke there? NO. Let it lie. You're as bad as THEM), gobbling it up without care or thought.
But what REALLY got to me....was this removal of becoming a fan. Facebook is just one huge room of people, who come and go (apart from me it would seem, just lurking incessantly in the corner), and it seems necessary to have some sort of variety to break from the monotonous woes there depicted. (I'm liking this medieval style I have painted..*holds paintbrush in a state of pause in order to admire work* I'll be throwing words like 'ere' and 'thus' about next) But WHYYY? (No. I have stuck to simplicity.) I mean, I am all one for change (*politician whips out notepad eagerly) - not you (*politician disappears with a comical pop) - but really...we are going backwards here. It is as if we are all being reduced to one-celled organisms (though still able to access computers). My point (which is well and truly lost in the maze of this waffling....OOOH WAFFLES...) is that the conversion of 'becoming a fan' to 'like' is removing an element, it's EVOLUTION BACKWARDS. I'm going to let that grand statement sink in. Becoming a fan is NOT the same as 'liking' something (just to reiterate the point everyone has been making). It's just not the SAME...I continue to wail. We can't even like or comment on THE FACT someone has become a fan. And becoming a fan put me in mind of flagwaving, which is so much more exciting than a simple 'like'. Must they ruin everything?? If I didn't know better, I'd say this was all a plot from teachers to encourage students to get off the computer and do some work. However, your plan has backfired! I am here ranting about facebook, instead of doing my work...I WIN!
(*awkward pause as reader waits for blogwriter to acknowledge irony. She doesn't.*)
So, I'm putting my metaphorical foot down. And raising it again, as soon as I go back onto facebook. I know, very shortly I too shall join the throng who moaned about fb changes, and continue cruising it nevertheless. Because that's just what I'm like...I'm taken in by the pirate language and the exciting prospects it offers me...that sense of adventure when it flashes a piratical grin at me, waving 'treasure' and 'rum' in my face... I'm only human. So I will continue to grumble and oddly relish in hurling abuse at fb's decision to use enjambment in the presentation of statuses (SO MUCH AMBIGUITY...IS IT REALLY NECCESSARY?)....and its removal of the bubble-announcement of updates (THAT WAS JUST CRUEL). And while I wonder why it is that we are going backwards, why time seems to be recoiling in on itself, I will continue that calm, bored, countenance with which I scroll down to read 'fascinating' things about people I am equally 'fascinated' about. My insatisfaction shall undoubtably remain, but is there any need to increase it by removing the small joys that once greeted me on the bookofface? It would appear so. Back to facebook I go, as this all swirls into the dim and distant past...just remember folks, that once, at one delightfully joyous time, it was possible to like something AND be a fan. We were a greedy bunch.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Saturday, 10 April 2010
The REAL sushi for beginners...
So. (I really must work on these beginnings) Hit by another bout of boredom, I feel forced to rack my brain (was really hoping to find a word beginning with 'r' there...to continue the alliterative feel I had going on...but it was not to be) for a suitable story worthy of note. Failing this, I have changed tactics (the sinking feeling of melancholy you may now have is perhaps due to this reversal of the tictac 'lift') Ahh wonderful. Already the cheesy-joke-making has set in. Clearly insisting on a preamble is a mistake I will NOT be making again. I shall now ignore fate's mocking smile, which can be glimpsed through the diminshing breathing-space of my future blogs.
*With a hefty tug at concentration* Sushimaking. Is what I will be discussing today.
It all started when... [Can I get some dry ice in here?? and a lemonade, that would be great, thanks.]
It was the day we were making sushi [I think I've done that point to death now]. Having already wandered dazedly into the textiles classroom by accident I managed to make it into the fiery depths of the area charmingly dubbed 'food tech'. I was here with good friends Rebeeehhhcahsan and Emeeleesan, and while we scrabbled in the corner with bags, the class was already gathering about the rice-laden table. (I don't mean we were busily touching up on our vocab ability by playing scrabble with our bags, just that...OK SORRY I'll stop...I've stopped.) As we also gathered excitedly around the (conveniently round) table, our lovely japanese teacher explained how the sushimaking would pan out. I'm going to be honest, this is where I made my first mistake. No doubt fooled by the building and the whiteboard, I forgot myself for a moment and adopted the vague lack of thought suitable for a school environment. I therefore listened with the rapt (non-existent) attention as I would in a lesson. Futhermore (with growing agitation at the familiar feeling) I then realised, as with any form of practical work, I would actually be required to carry out the demonstration myself. I dithered at the table a while longer before marching off decisively to locate an apron. It seems by this time I was falling behind (bearing in mind we had been asked to start a mere handful of seconds ago). Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahsan were busily searching for the knives, and as I joined them Abiiisan (who had somehow acquired all the equipment and even started sushi-rolling) gave us the coordinates of the knife whereabouts. (I'm making this all sound very cryptic) After three fruitless glances (or more relevantly, knifeless glances..teehee.....*dodges a real knife that has materialised in reader's hand*), Abiisan lost her temper and led us to them herself.
Grazing quickly over the long task of choosing a suitable knife among the dubiously-sized ones available - some of them bore more than a passing resemblance to a mechetti - I reached the table once again and set to work savaging (or slicing, as is the recommended method) my half-cucumber. Next, we had to paste the sushi rice onto the seaweed - I had seen the teacher do this, I was HDready for this. However, I had not accounted for the sticky nature of the rice. This first came to my attention as I casually hurled a few spoonfuls of the rice onto the seaweed, only to find the rice was stubbornly latched onto the spoon, as if it had found its soulmate. Unfazed by this curious love story unfolding before my eyes, I used a number of tools in order to prise the two apart. This unfortunately meant the majority of my surroundings also ended up sporting a rice-coat (top of the range, mind). However, a furtive look about the room reassured me I was not alone (MJ was in the corner serenading me), and I joined the few who were surreptitiously flicking rice from themselves every few seconds.
The rolling was then in full swing when I saw, from my station among the happy hive of activity, a camera walk in. (There was, of course, a person attached to the camera, but my fear drove my eyes to block all else out) In horror, I let my knife clatter to the table as I frantically scuttled over to the sinks. At this place of refuge, I was confronted by another person wielding a knife, and managed to stop myself leaping for cover by remembering we were in a kitchen, and knives were normal. Safe under the guise of needing to wash my hands, I silently observed the movements of the camera. As it and its mediator roved eagerly about the room, I congratulated myself on having averted danger and wandered casually back over to the table. I settled back into the relaxed atmosphere Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahsan had created, while inwardly panicking at the lump of rice, cucumber and seaweed in front of me. Just then, the japanese teacher came over, so we all put on beaming faces as she complimented our work.
"So, do any of you cook much at home?"
"No" was one the lightning flash replies, as well as a sinister "never" from someone.
"ahh...!?" A little confusion in our teacher's voice, yet we all still beam desperately.
"But of course, you will when you are married!" she (half) jokes, though the laugh is shortlived as she moves away with a worried expression on her face, leaving me and Rebehhcahhsan holding up our rice-ladles in bemused shock, our future apparently crashing down into flames around us. Though recovering from this blow was difficult, I managed to rescue my roll (really I am on FIRE with alliteration today), though in my distraction I had been oblivious to the advancing camera. I looked up to see them both (yes the camera too) grinning fiendishly at me, and as the 'technician' (I use the term loosely in recognition of the fact that the camera seemed to know its own mind) gestured happily at the table - I lost the will to resist. Emeeleesan had managed to escape, but me and Rebehhcahhsan were forced to put on a couple of pained grimaces for the benefit of the 'right angle' (Note the amount of bitterness I have attempted to deliver in those inverted commas). This over with, Rebehhcahhsan was further tortured by a teacher wandering in requesting what the smell was. After also having been reprimanded for taking a breather on a stool at the beginning, this final straw was it for Rebehhcahsan. As the woman next hinted at how nice the sushi looked and how its taste ought to be verified, Rebehhcahhsan swiftly responded with a curt "yes" and closed the box from view.
And then, it was time to pack away. When I had once again recovered from the shock of seeing 15 people wandering aimlessly about brandishing knives, I happily set to washing up my equipment at the safe haven of sinkdom. Here, I could do no wrong...at least that was what I initially thought, until my bubble of concentration was broken in upon by a helper woman at a neighbouring sink. (It might be worth pointing out there were more teachers than students present - suggesting a certain lack of trust or a certain nosiness on the teacher side. I shall leave you to decide.)
"Could you pass the washing up liquid?"
Ahh. Of course, such an easy task, how delightful it is to accomplish a favour for someone, I thought to myself while confidently handing over the bottle.
"That's the Handwash."
The neccessary embarrassment ensued, and I sought comfort in turning to Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahhsan, the former of whom was suspiciously munching on her surplus ingredients.
When I next thought it safe to return to the sinks, the helper had been replaced by a small boy. He inquired to the general public if there was any washing up liquid about, and in my enthusiasm to prove myself I startled him by grabbing the object in question and frantically leaning across to force it into his possession.
I smugly returned to the table, packing more knives away (I had somehow acquired a handful of them). A dishcloth was forced into my hand and I stood awaiting brain activity, as everyone bustled about me. I then became dimly aware of Rebehhcahhsan in a similar predicament at the other end of the room, also in a state of pause, dishcloth in hand.
So there we have it. The trials and tribulations of sushi-making. And if I had just said that at the start we could have avoided a lot unneccessary words :)
*With a hefty tug at concentration* Sushimaking. Is what I will be discussing today.
It all started when... [Can I get some dry ice in here?? and a lemonade, that would be great, thanks.]
It was the day we were making sushi [I think I've done that point to death now]. Having already wandered dazedly into the textiles classroom by accident I managed to make it into the fiery depths of the area charmingly dubbed 'food tech'. I was here with good friends Rebeeehhhcahsan and Emeeleesan, and while we scrabbled in the corner with bags, the class was already gathering about the rice-laden table. (I don't mean we were busily touching up on our vocab ability by playing scrabble with our bags, just that...OK SORRY I'll stop...I've stopped.) As we also gathered excitedly around the (conveniently round) table, our lovely japanese teacher explained how the sushimaking would pan out. I'm going to be honest, this is where I made my first mistake. No doubt fooled by the building and the whiteboard, I forgot myself for a moment and adopted the vague lack of thought suitable for a school environment. I therefore listened with the rapt (non-existent) attention as I would in a lesson. Futhermore (with growing agitation at the familiar feeling) I then realised, as with any form of practical work, I would actually be required to carry out the demonstration myself. I dithered at the table a while longer before marching off decisively to locate an apron. It seems by this time I was falling behind (bearing in mind we had been asked to start a mere handful of seconds ago). Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahsan were busily searching for the knives, and as I joined them Abiiisan (who had somehow acquired all the equipment and even started sushi-rolling) gave us the coordinates of the knife whereabouts. (I'm making this all sound very cryptic) After three fruitless glances (or more relevantly, knifeless glances..teehee.....*dodges a real knife that has materialised in reader's hand*), Abiisan lost her temper and led us to them herself.
Grazing quickly over the long task of choosing a suitable knife among the dubiously-sized ones available - some of them bore more than a passing resemblance to a mechetti - I reached the table once again and set to work savaging (or slicing, as is the recommended method) my half-cucumber. Next, we had to paste the sushi rice onto the seaweed - I had seen the teacher do this, I was HDready for this. However, I had not accounted for the sticky nature of the rice. This first came to my attention as I casually hurled a few spoonfuls of the rice onto the seaweed, only to find the rice was stubbornly latched onto the spoon, as if it had found its soulmate. Unfazed by this curious love story unfolding before my eyes, I used a number of tools in order to prise the two apart. This unfortunately meant the majority of my surroundings also ended up sporting a rice-coat (top of the range, mind). However, a furtive look about the room reassured me I was not alone (MJ was in the corner serenading me), and I joined the few who were surreptitiously flicking rice from themselves every few seconds.
The rolling was then in full swing when I saw, from my station among the happy hive of activity, a camera walk in. (There was, of course, a person attached to the camera, but my fear drove my eyes to block all else out) In horror, I let my knife clatter to the table as I frantically scuttled over to the sinks. At this place of refuge, I was confronted by another person wielding a knife, and managed to stop myself leaping for cover by remembering we were in a kitchen, and knives were normal. Safe under the guise of needing to wash my hands, I silently observed the movements of the camera. As it and its mediator roved eagerly about the room, I congratulated myself on having averted danger and wandered casually back over to the table. I settled back into the relaxed atmosphere Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahsan had created, while inwardly panicking at the lump of rice, cucumber and seaweed in front of me. Just then, the japanese teacher came over, so we all put on beaming faces as she complimented our work.
"So, do any of you cook much at home?"
"No" was one the lightning flash replies, as well as a sinister "never" from someone.
"ahh...!?" A little confusion in our teacher's voice, yet we all still beam desperately.
"But of course, you will when you are married!" she (half) jokes, though the laugh is shortlived as she moves away with a worried expression on her face, leaving me and Rebehhcahhsan holding up our rice-ladles in bemused shock, our future apparently crashing down into flames around us. Though recovering from this blow was difficult, I managed to rescue my roll (really I am on FIRE with alliteration today), though in my distraction I had been oblivious to the advancing camera. I looked up to see them both (yes the camera too) grinning fiendishly at me, and as the 'technician' (I use the term loosely in recognition of the fact that the camera seemed to know its own mind) gestured happily at the table - I lost the will to resist. Emeeleesan had managed to escape, but me and Rebehhcahhsan were forced to put on a couple of pained grimaces for the benefit of the 'right angle' (Note the amount of bitterness I have attempted to deliver in those inverted commas). This over with, Rebehhcahhsan was further tortured by a teacher wandering in requesting what the smell was. After also having been reprimanded for taking a breather on a stool at the beginning, this final straw was it for Rebehhcahsan. As the woman next hinted at how nice the sushi looked and how its taste ought to be verified, Rebehhcahhsan swiftly responded with a curt "yes" and closed the box from view.
And then, it was time to pack away. When I had once again recovered from the shock of seeing 15 people wandering aimlessly about brandishing knives, I happily set to washing up my equipment at the safe haven of sinkdom. Here, I could do no wrong...at least that was what I initially thought, until my bubble of concentration was broken in upon by a helper woman at a neighbouring sink. (It might be worth pointing out there were more teachers than students present - suggesting a certain lack of trust or a certain nosiness on the teacher side. I shall leave you to decide.)
"Could you pass the washing up liquid?"
Ahh. Of course, such an easy task, how delightful it is to accomplish a favour for someone, I thought to myself while confidently handing over the bottle.
"That's the Handwash."
The neccessary embarrassment ensued, and I sought comfort in turning to Emeeleesan and Rebehhcahhsan, the former of whom was suspiciously munching on her surplus ingredients.
When I next thought it safe to return to the sinks, the helper had been replaced by a small boy. He inquired to the general public if there was any washing up liquid about, and in my enthusiasm to prove myself I startled him by grabbing the object in question and frantically leaning across to force it into his possession.
I smugly returned to the table, packing more knives away (I had somehow acquired a handful of them). A dishcloth was forced into my hand and I stood awaiting brain activity, as everyone bustled about me. I then became dimly aware of Rebehhcahhsan in a similar predicament at the other end of the room, also in a state of pause, dishcloth in hand.
So there we have it. The trials and tribulations of sushi-making. And if I had just said that at the start we could have avoided a lot unneccessary words :)
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