Ever more the sands of time seem to be swept along, faster and faster down the stream of life's pace. I find that the things I want to do, need to do, should do, can easily fall by the banks and become lost in the silt. Just as easily, those which stumble can be burried in that same silt and lost from the sight of memory; both treasure and trivial are bound to that prospect.
My college applications are now submitted electronicly to San José State University, San Francisco State Univeristy, Sacramento State University, and California State East Bay (Concord/Hayward campuses). I like San José State's campus, from what I saw since it seemed like a good place for logistical arrangements, aside from the reliance on the automobile if I can't get a flat too close to the campus. Sacramento State will also require me doing something similar, since I know no one up that way that I would be able to be roommates with and since the housing is supposed to be expensive as far as rent goes. California State East Bay and San Francisco State University have much greater access through public transit, and if in the CSU East Bay campus, I can use the car to go one town over for that without too much trouble if I move out to Concord or Pleasant Hill. San Francisco State University would also be feasable from Contra Costa County since the Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) system extends to Daly City, and they have a bus bridge from the BART station to the campus.
I was looking through my list of songs as I revamped my more Christmas themed music. For some reason, even if I have qualms with some aspects of differing religious expressions, sometimes you find something that seems perfect for just that moment. The song I'm listening to now is a song I first came across in Saint Dominic's Parish school in my sixth-grade year. It is "Breath of Heaven" and is perhaps a lot more emotional than even the Magnificat (Cancticle of Mary) since the words speak of a very human struggle and not the shining frescos of resignation and acceptance for the Assumption's depiction. More likely, being human, the Mary of both myth and fact would have been terrified, from the child being carried, the sense of despiration, the sense of disorientation, physical pain, if she should have been chosen. In the midst of all that comes a prayer, that in the dismay of her heart, she would invoke the breath of heaven to sustain her to "lighten my darkness," "hold me together," and at the same time reaffirm her commitment to the course ahead. Regardless of the literal story that the myths and legends were built around, it is a touching thought as it is a feeling person and not some distant and statuesque paragon that is reinforced for the idea of Mary.
I want to hear either Handel's Messiah or see The Nutcracker this year, it's been a few since the last time at either performance. Yes, that's one of the few really festive things I do outside of the kitchen.
Éclairs came out lovely for the potluck Thanksgiving party in Antioch on the Twenty-fourth (Friday, 24 Nov. 2006), but on Saturday my shortbread could have done with a topping of caramel that was a little less in the hard-ball stage. I couldn't pour and spread out the caramel fast enough, so I may also increase the portion of syrup that I carmalize (it's just enough water to cover the sugar, and sugar). The éclairs were something I'd like to do again, since the pan de choux pastry wasn't too difficult once I got the hang of piping it. Custard for filling is something I have a fair bit of practice with, so that was fine. I might add some arromatics to the chocolate sauce next time, perhaps a mint extract?
Work has been a little bit busy, I will admit, and I'm not getting that much sleep. I need more sleep, since 5 hrs straight is getting harder to do. It's not that I'm not trying, but it just doesn't seem to work some nights. It's especially hard when I have to leave something incomplete, even if I'm not really thinking about it. My body seems to remember, so if I'm going to put something off I need to do it early.
We've had our first frost of the colder months. Ten minutes to heat up my car and clear the windows for visibility with the defroster and windshield wipers was ten minutes I'd rather have been on the road for, as I hate that it seems to be my curse to be continually late to work even if I do get up early and put things out the night before work. It's as though something adjusts just enough to botch up the preparations.
(from November 28, 2006)
