Sticks and Stones May Break Bones, But Words Really !@#$ing Hurt [Hyperbolic Tendancies]...

Today, I made someone cry. I didn’t hit them or shove them down the stairs. I wasn’t screaming at them, brandishing a weapon, or kidnapping their child. I made them cry without any desire or plan to reduce them to weeping in public. I did it simply with words. A vast majority of my life is spent in the company of words. Whether searching for the right synonym, stringing a few together to create irony or a laugh, or toiling over just the right adjective, words to me are what butter, cream and salt are to the chef – the basic ingredients of pretty much everything. Words are also the things in which I take comfort and solace, like my old friends, because in many ways that’s what they are. I’m comfortable with words the way a fireman is running into a burning building to save someone. Which is why I was stunned into silence as the kind, sane and intelligent person sitting across from me in a meeting that was really and truly about nothing important, began to well up and then whispered, “I feel like I’m being attacked” as tears spilled. And in that moment, my insides violently turned themselves inside out. My face burnt with the fire of embarrassment and the bile rose so quickly from my gut I didn’t even feel the sting in my throat, just the sour taste rolling across my tongue. I excused myself, went to the bathroom and vomited. I rinsed my mouth and washed my face with cold water and caught my own eye in the mirror, feeling the deep, abiding, and consuming shame that makes us human. I hadn’t felt it since I was trying to pray the gay away in long sessions, prostrate...

Take Comfort [Fierce Foodie]

The ancient Spartans saw food purely as fuel, and both royalty and peasants alike ate black bread with a blood and vinegar soup. The Romans, on the other hand, luxuriated in food as a symbol of wealth, and are famous for their exorbitant banquets of rare ingredients eaten lying down and punctuated by trips to the vomitorium. These are the age-old equivalents of living on a spelt and seaweed diet or dining exclusively on truffles and hand fed lobster. Today some people still run to these extremes, but for me, and many others I suspect, food is not purely fuel or status symbol, but comfort. It is no big secret that comfort food is rarely meaty or green. Starch is king in the land of comfort food: sugary donuts, buttery mashed potatoes, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, pancakes with syrup, cherry pie ala-mode, French fries, fresh bread with sweet butter, tater tots, or my personal favorite: white rice, with anything.  Why doesn’t kale or a chicken leg give you the same buzz? You could argue that sugars and starches cause the brain to release the neurotransmitter serotonin, which is responsible for producing a sense of wellbeing and calm. This is the brain chemical that drugs like Prozac and Paxil work to elevate. You could also argue that when you were a kid, and you fell and scraped your knee, your mom handed you a cookie, and not a plate of steamed spinach to cheer you up. So in the spirit of comfort and good cheer, I give you this recipe for baked ziti, or lazy lasagna.  It all get mixed up in your tummy any way right? BAKED ZITI (Courtesy of Simplyrecipes.com) Ingredients 1 pound ziti (can sub penne) pasta Olive oil 1 pound bulk Italian sausage or ground...