LOVE. WINS.

Today is just full of joy and emotion. I love that all I see scrolling through my FB feed is happiness and celebration at the SCOTUS decision. I have good, loving ppl all around me (even virtually).

Haters can fuck off.

Love Wins.

Bream gives me hiccups & other stories - by Jessie Eisenberg (review)

So excited to receive my first ever ARC in the mail, which happened to be this one. Tentatively scheduled to be published in September, Jesse Eisenberg of Social Network/Zombieland fame and a bunch of other stuff, has published his first collection of short stories.

Did not even realize he wrote for McSweeney's, The New Yorker, and two plays. While I appreciate his sense of humor and acting style, can you blame me for being slightly skeptical at the quality of this book? I realize many actors publish memoirs, and many, like Amy Poehler's Yes Please and Tina Fey's Bossypants are wonderful and engaging and funny, but original stories give me pause.

Seems he's multi-talented. He can write. And it's funny. It's Dave Sedaris and maybe a little John Kennedy O'Toole thrown in.  The book is a take on modern life, from technology and family relationships and dating and more.

The first set of stories, hence the title, 'Bream Gives Me Hiccups: Restaurant Reviews from a Privileged Nine-Year-Old', was my favorite. The narrator's voice is so forthright, so true to that of what a nine year old would say. This boy goes out on various outings, everything from an Ashram to TCBY, with his divorced mother, reviewing the food as he goes along. It's so much more than that, and while hilarious and silly, they are dark and thought provoking, and a little sad. Okay, a lot sad, but maybe I related on a whole different level. Moving on.

The next section deals with Family goings-on, and the story 'My Nephew Has Some Questions' drove me back to that weird existentialism that having a young kid who asks way to many questions and maybe smoking too much pot bring you to. Fuck. Life.

It progresses, and throughout the stories are unique and Eisenberg has the ability to pick up the nuances of a recent, insecure female high school grad going to college to the nerdy sister studying  Bosnian Genocide to whatever other psychotic-ness that exists in his head quite well.

It riffs on modern life, and is heavy-handed on the intellectualism in some sections (Marxist-Socialist jokes, anyone?), but all in all a quick, good read, great for summer.

Too bad it's coming out in the fall. Oh well. Enjoy your ironic pumpkin spice latte and this book at Starbucks while you attempt to write that novel you've been meaning to get to.

Cheers!
          -Tiffany

*(note: this book was a free ARC received via Shelf Awareness.)

Meetups and Meetings

So.

I am trying to be proactive about my new community (which was my old community, but I was way too busy/too young/didn't own the home to give a shit), so I attended a Heritage Hill Association board meeting a little while ago.

Heritage Hill (HH) is a neighborhood in my city that is an historic district, full of beautiful old houses, some converted into apartments, some just big ass houses like mine (I'm so lucky, I know this), but all unique and interesting and walkable to the center of the city, to downtown.

We are in an ever changing, evolving space, with the growth of Grand Rapids, with the need for more housing, with the increased diversity, families, students, a wide variety of people embracing this city as their own.

HH seems to be all about making sure we keep the paint scheme correct and don't have ACs in the front windows to ruin the facade.

Which makes me sad, since I left a neighborhood with a rocking community association run by the most proactive organizer ninja and all around awesome person who ever ran a community association. I want that here, because I see the changes, I know HH isn't really addressing them, and I feel obligated to be that younger voice and get involved.

So.

I sat, two and a half hours, listened. Observed. Took notes. GRPS (the public school district) had reps, which made me really happy. There are schools in this neighborhood that are doing awesome things, and I don't think HH has really embraced them, and those students who attend these schools, as part of their community. I plan on connecting with them, getting more involved and seeing how I can help. My child goes to a charter at GRPS, which has, on occasion, also approached HH since they are in the neighborhood.. with not many results/positives.

I left a bit disheartened, I guess, but with some good possible contacts and more in the 'know', plus some knowledge of who I can approach with my grandiose ideas who won't have a heart attack if I try to insert some 'change' up in heere.


Meetup:

I took some 'me' time! This momma totally took some me time, and went to a Writer's Meetup she randomly found in her e-mail one day.  It was 'Writing at Contemplative Practice' at someone's house, and was billed as two hours of " learning to trust your own voice; using your own language, your own rhythms, and writing your own story." and then sharing that story.

First off, the apartment was absolutely beautiful and cozy and inspiring. It was an attic apartment, all stained glass windows and odd corners, nooks to hide in, art and books and billowly. Exactly where I'd be if I didn't have two children a dog and way too many things.

 I was thinking I might act lik my ol' cynical self and huffy, writing it all off as 'woo' and people as idiots, but I really tried to hold it back. The host had warm bread made, coffee and tea and maybe was a little 'woo', but incredibly kind and I know I'm just an asshat.

Anyway. We talked a bit and had coffee and I feel like I actually might have made a few friends.  I was excited to just write write, pen to paper and no other thoughts in my brain. I really enjoyed sharing with everyone else, and I shushed my hesitance and negativity towards myself, and also tried to listen- really listen- to others' stories and voice, and give feedback.

It was nice, hearing good things, not getting slammed for not using hyphens correctly or commas or having shitty grammar. It was nice to share my story, it all it's ugly, unedited nakedness. 

Like this blog.

I like ugly.

Prompt: What were you passionate about as a child?
My response: Escape.

(Make of that what you will.)

Books, books, so many books!

Reading so many books at once and it's just delicious. Listened to a podcast last night that made me 'whoa.'

ADHD?

Is my job making me this way?.. Maybe.. Maybe.

Currently reading:
-Saga - latest issue
-Descender - latest issue
-Coffin Hill - latest issue
(these are comics folks. I like comics. I never used to like comics, but, damnit, I like comics.)

Almost finished:

Just finished and will review soon:

Just finished and may or may not review (hey-my time is limited):
-Nailbiter #2 (trade-ALSO a comic.)
-Savage #1 (comic)

A million more are sitting on my nightstand, looking at me angrily.


So, the Jesse Eisenberg book was my first (!) ARC received via mail. Pretty. Damn exciting. Plan on reviewing it in depth soon! Also just got Margaret Atwood's new one:

 Pretty excited about this one too! I LOVE printed copies of books, and while NetGalley is awesome and I am in the midst of reading a few e-Galley's on there at well, there's something about the feel of a book in your hand and the smell of newly printed pages and the heft of the paper that just makes me happy inside.












More reviews to come! Thinking that reading is definitely keeping me sane(ish), and happy I have an outlet to write.

What We Will Do.

Yesterday was just a day of overwhelmingness. Which is not a word, but the only thing that makes sense in this situation.

My babe was sick, which is just awful because he's tiny and can't talk and just looks miserable and grumpy and makes me feel bad. It's also awful because I get irritated at sickness and sick people/things and being sick myself, and I'm a horrible person to get annoyed at a baby, right?

This was also the day I agreed to babysit one of the older one's friends, which would be totally fine w/o the sick baby. And, magically, it became the day that I ended up having a fuck ton of last minute projects to do that I totally didn't expect.

Frantically working, holding a sick baby, making lunch for little boys and ignoring the chaos that was happening in the rest of my house; I get a text from out of town friends who were only going to be in town for a few hours today, so could they stop by and see everyone?

Of course. Bring your little dogs too.

OH. And we had old neighbors and their kiddos planning to head over in the afternoon/evening.

Then the baby finally managed to actually crack my cell phone screen. And I totally have my period.

So I get on Facebook, because that's what you do when you are avoiding all the things you actually hafta do and discover all the crazy that has happened in the world in great detail.


My head hurts. My heart hurts. All the chaos of my day just compounds and then explodes and I forget why it's important, besides slight inconvenience. Who cares? I have a loving family and friends and a life, I have my life.

Facebook brings more reaction to the situation, from 'Great, now they are gonna target WHITE people!' to 'Well. More guns, of course. That's what we need. USA, USA!' to detailed, considerate commentary and realization of everything we have ignored as a whole, as a country, for years and years and years and my god.

God.

I'm getting sick and tired of this, things like this, again and again. Fuck anyone who says we are the greatest country in the world.

Address this. Think about it. Give it a voice and make intelligent solutions for our future. Then maybe we can be great.

Stir: Overall Review

Stir: My Broken Brain and the Meals That Brought Me Home

A Review by a Not Very Good Reviewer, but a Very Good Reader

(that's me)

Stir is a decent memoir, one that shouldn't really make sense but does. Jessica uses her passion, her history and her easy to digest voice to create a story that makes you want to keep reading.

Food is the great connector, the one thing that draws everyone to the table, regardless of religious differences or background.  Pairing her story of medical disaster and long road to recovery with recipes from her childhood or those that invoked specific feelings or memories makes sense. Sharing the table with the author throughout her journey are friends, family members and those just passing by who all had an impact on her regaining strength and readjusting to 'life after'.

Jessica's past is recalled through eloquent, sentimental descriptions of meals shared, meals made, bread broken.  I was concerned when I started the book that the inclusion of the recipes at the end of the chapters would feel forced, that maybe deep down the author really wanted to write a cookbook or just promote the blog, but the more I read, the less this was an issue. Jessica appreciates and understands the meaning of food, and it flows nicely along with the story of her recovery.

Nor does Jessica play the 'woe is me' card, which, in her situation, I almost wouldn't blame her for.  Her voice is honest about what happened to her and how she felt during those times - additional surgeries, infections - where it must of felt most bleak.  She doesn't deny the difficulty, but the way the memoir is written doesn't ask you for sympathy. Instead, you are right there with her, empathetic, wanting to understand.

This book created a lot of 'I get that!' moments for me, enough so my brain would wander to similar situations in my own life, times of trial or great success. Stories that parallel the author's experiences. Ultimately, I want a book that makes me so lost in another world or that creates those feelings of closeness and understanding.  This is definitely the latter, and it does an excellent job at it.

(*note: this book was received digitally via netgalley for free.)

Stir: Chapters 18-33

 Toll House cookies are no joke. I don't think anything I've made has ever made my family happier.
___
I don't think I'm capable of as much gratitude as the author.  All I would be, could be, is angry. But maybe she was, too.
___
I noticed the small signs, symptoms of depression, uncontrolled crying, wiping tears and general melancholy now. Too late, of course - my mother is long dead. The longer she's gone, the more I realize how alike we were.
___
 We make home where our people sleep. It's not where, it's how, it's the familiar scent of your little boy, sweaty after playing with friends, touching babysoft skin, the thin hair on my husband's head. Home is people, not location.
___
Oh. That. Sucks.
___
I thought I was a good guest, but I might actually be a horrible one. Hrm.
___
I guess I can't knock the blogs anymore. Blagh. Food blogs, though. Most of them.. that's another post, ha.
___
Sometimes you just need to do, for you. Something entirely superficial. New clothes, for no reason.  Maybe a haircut. There are days I want this so badly for myself, want to straighten my stupid crooked front tooth I've convinced myself that I actually like, that it's a cute quirk and makes my face unique. 
___
We all struggle. We all eat. We all find ways to survive. And hopefully thrive.