Bacon & Eggs

I’m not sure when I decided to take an educational slant to this blog. But regardless, I am going to make you LEARN. Mwahahahahahaaaa…

Aaaaanywho. After a brief and factually deficient conversation with a couple of friends last night, I have decided to dedicate this blog to the subject of eggs. Because that’s always going to be a crowd pleaser, am I right?

A special thank you to goes out to The Internet and associated experts (egg-sperts!? Sorry...) for providing all factual facts in this post. My own, less-factual remarks are the ill-informed ones underneath.

WARNING!

Even though you might eat them for breakfast, and sometimes they come with delicious bacon, the actual ‘making of an egg’ process is ‘gross’. So probably don’t read about it WHILE eating eggs. Muesli in fine.  Bacon is always fine.

HOW TO MAKE AN EGG, IN FIVE EASY STEPS.

STEP 1: Yolky Goodness

Experts think: "An egg starts as an egg yolk inside a hen, which is produced by the hen's ovary in a process called ovulation."

I think: I guess this resolves the question of ‘what came first’, but I think there are a few things here that remain to be explained. Like, why is the yolk orange? Is there some kind of orange-enzyme that are common to egg-yolks, orange juice and cheezles? And if so, how come they all taste so different, and yet all are delicious with bacon?

STEP 2: Fertilisation

Experts think: "The yolk is released into a long, spiraling tube in the hen's reproductive system, where it can be fertilized by a sperm."

I think: This makes a little more sense… except for the bit about the ‘spiraling tube’. How spirally are we talking here? Spirally as in… one of those silly straws that go around your eyes; but get clogged really easily because they are too thick on the inside - in order to be structurally sound? And if so, how does the yolk get through such a thin tube, when banana smoothies cannot?

STEP 3: The Egg White

Experts think: "The yolk continues down the oviduct (whether or not it is fertilised) and is covered with a membrane structural fibers, and layers of albumin (the egg white)."

I think: So the egg yolk is kicking along down the silly straw tube, just hanging out and BAM!, gets covered in these grossly ambiguous “fibers”. I don’t think that I would like to be covered in fibers.

STEP 4: Chalazae…

Experts think: "As the egg goes down through the oviduct, it is continually rotating within the spiraling tube. This movement twists the structural fibers (called the chalazae), which form rope-like strands that anchor the yolk in the thick egg white."

I think:  This is an impressive word don’t you think? “Chalazae”. It kind of sounds like a perfume. In the Chalazae-Perfum advertisement, I imagine there would be some kind of scantily clad, Kate Moss look-alike, casually reclining in its coop, seductively looking into the camera and saying, in a fake-French accent “Chalazae…”.  I would totally buy that.

STEP 5: The Eggshell

Experts think: "The eggshell is deposited around the egg in the lower part of the oviduct of the hen, just before it is laid. The shell is made of calcite, a crystalline form of calcium carbonate. This entire trip through the oviduct takes about one day."

I think: This is the bit that BLOWS MY MIND. So basically all these other things happen, including this, in ONE DAY. This is a lot to achieve, don’t you think? And seriously, the shell is so hard! Imagine if we could harness that egg-shell hardening enzyme. We could use it for all kinds of amazing technologies! Like… instead of cement in houses, or… to put people into space. I’m not sure how that would work.

Aaaanywho... the moral of my story is definitely unclear. I have talked a lot about chickens and eggs (and resolved the age old mystery of which came first, not bad for a weekly blog), and also made a lot of comments about silly straws and bacon.

Consider yourself educated.

Once again, a special 'thank you' to The Internet, particularly this website: http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/birds/info/chicken/egg.shtml.

Proof that I have seen chickens before.

The Second Person

Writing about yourself is a hard thing to do.  It’s not so hard in blog-form. In a blog, you can basically share any kind of information you want, i.e. "things to do this week", and general musings about your love for cups of tea. What's great is, no one gives you any kind of score or assessment at the end (unless you count the number of people who ‘like’ you on facebook, or your number of followers. Which I don’t, for self preservation purposes).

Writing about yourself in job-application-form, however, is a whole ‘nother ball-game. Rather than self-deprecating nonsense, job applications are serious businesses. So much so that you probably couldn’t even get away with writing non-words like ‘nother’. 

And you probably shouldn’t either.

So you might have guessed that I am the ‘you’ in this situation. Yes, currently I am going through the tedious process applying for jobs in the hope that someone will employ me (please).

The difference between this blog and job applications (other than I shouldn't spend too much time writing about tea, and that non-words are unacceptable) is that I also can’t refer to myself in the second-person (I have no idea if this is the right term).

In any case, I think that referring to myself in second-person is a great idea. Here's why.

Rather than writing “I am probably the best communicator the world has seen”, I could write “Kathryn Kelly is probably the best communicator the world has seen”. Benefits include...

1) it sounds like someone else wrote it, a fan of some kind?

2) it begs the question 'should she come with a promotional poster and/or video-clip?' and

3) it reads like a newspaper headline, i.e. “Kathryn Kelly, The Best Communicator the World Has Seen?”

Perhaps I could also consider writing a song, or a poem to impress potential job-holders (again, job-holders this is not the correct term).

Just know that I started a poem, and then decided that my time would probably be better spend working on job applications.

A door referring to itself in first person.

Things to do this week:

1. Remember to eat all three meals every day (chocolate is NOT a meal). Even Saturday and Sunday.

2. Remember to do everything that I promise to do.

3. Keep a list of everything I promise to do. One big list, not lots of little lists in lots of little notepads.

4. Be more discerning about TV watching. I.e. Less Gossip Girl. The West Wing is fine.

5. Find a job.

6. Don’t stress so much.

7. Eat food that’s in the house, rather than the lovely food that’s in the shop.

8. Remember what day it is. Even Saturday and Sunday (refer to Point 5).

9. Respond to text messages when I get them, not “later” in order to come up with a better response. And then forget.

10. Pay all bills when I get them, not “later” in order to avoid seeing the total balance of my bank account.

11. Don't buy clothes at the op-shop if they don't fit, even though I want them to fit.

12. Don’t be scared of strangers who live in Melbourne. Say hello.

13. Keep my pot-plants alive, even the Ikea coriander.

Camper shoes I bought at the op-shop, that don't fit because they are not my size shoe at all. 
To sell at Fitzroy market on 17 March.

Nice warm bath and a cup of tea.

I’m pretty sure that my brain only has a finite amount of space inside. Like an underwear drawer. Sometimes that amount of space even seems to get smaller, and stuff comes out when I don’t put more in. Which seems unfair, and not scientific at all.

When this happens, it’s usually my mum who suggests a nice warm bath and a cup of tea.

These two things have always been my mum’s solution to everything. When I was little, I was pretty suspicious that everything could be fixed with various forms of warm water. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realise that even though there are some things my parents shouldn’t get to have an opinion on (i.e whether Dawson’s Creek is ‘rubbish’), there are some things that make more sense than they first seem to. That, plus the fact that I don’t see thoughts falling out of my mum’s brain onto the ground, is why I should probably trust her about the about the nice warm bath and a cup of tea (NWBaaCOT) thing.

The problem with NWBaaCOTs, is that they always seem like such a waste of time.

“DON’T YOU UNDESTAND? I CANT POSSIBLY HAVE A STUPID BATH, IVE GOT ALL THESE NON-BATH RELATED THINGS TO DO, WHICH I CAN’T POSSIBLY DO WHILE I’M IN THE BATH. EVERYTHING WOULD GET SOGGY AND IT WOULD BE A SOGGY DISASTER. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?? IS IT?????”

The problem with this kind of reaction is that if you don’t do the NWBaaCOT thing, eventually everything will fall out of your brain onto the ground anyway. And then you are entirely useless and crazy, with no friends, no bath and no tea.

So what is my point here? What IS it?

I guess it’s that mum was and still is right. But not about the Dawson’s Creek thing, because I leant a lot of big words from that show.

My lovely old boots.

Mid-Brunswick Street

A mid-Brunswick Street cafe is the perfect place to reflect on the diversity of living in the city.

To my right is a presumably wealthy young American woman, having a business-like conversation with her colleague “the dress is like, classic, you know? And I thought I’d wear my hair like, classic, you know?” To my left is a presumably homeless man falling asleep in his cup of coffee, which has been provided by the cafe.

With no job to my name yet still having paid for my coffee, I decide that sitting in the middle of these two parties is probably a symbolically accurate place for me.

The bottom end (or city end) of Brunswick Street rises high on one side with social housing complexes. On the other side is a range of happily-placed community service facilities. Walking past I see:

1.              A man aged 70-ish sitting with his small dog

2.              Three middle aged men chatting outside the laundry mat

3.              Two young women walking with their young children

4.              Teenage girls in their school uniforms sitting and talking 

On initial observation, these people seem less wealthy, more culturally diverse, having more spontaneous social experiences, and (at a very superficial glance) more happy.

The top end of Brunswick Street boasts a number of cafes, restaurants, vintage clothing stores and upper-class dress shops. Walking past I see:

1.              People quietly waiting for the tram

2.              People walking to work alone

3.              People sitting in cafes “And I thought I’d wear my hair like.. classic, you know?”

4.              People buying things in shops

People are seemingly more wealthy, less social (in the spontaneous sense), more poorly dressed and (at a very superficial glance), less happy.

The middle of Brunswick Street houses a few cafes, a few dress shops, some sparse social housing and me.  In my building, people don’t talk to each other, and I don’t talk to people, because they don’t talk to me. Strange, I think.

So this gets me thinking... Why is it that when I walk past the sky-rise social housing mysteries at the bottom of Brunswick Street, people seem happier?  I’m not saying it’s a perfect observation, but maybe sometimes less money does equal more happiness.

I made these.

Also, I am playing at Libation, Fitzroy at 8.30 on Wed 22 Feb, and the Rainbow Hotel, Fitzroy at 8.30 on Thursday 23 Feb. Come see!

Being Awake at 3am (not on purpose)

Lately I have been experiencing a large number of sleepless nights, for no obvious reason. Here is my list of ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

Pros associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

ü     I have more time for thinking.

ü     I have more time to read the second Harry Potter (again).

ü     As Liv Tyler says in Empire Records, “There are 24 usable hours in every day”. The movie also suggests I bake cupcakes instead of sleeping, which sounds like a delicious solution to my problem.

ü     I could count sheep if I wanted to. Just imagine how many I could count.

ü     I have more time to watch Season 3 of The West Wing.

ü     Sleeplessness adds a sense of purpose to any and all sooking that takes place the following day.

ü     Sleeplessness gives me a reason to wear make-up (to cover any bags that have taken residence under my eyes while I wasn’t sleeping – possibly while I was watching The West Wing).

Cons associated with being awake at 3am (not on purpose).

Ë   Everything seems like the worst at 3am. Definitely not the time for productive thinking.

Ë   I’d forgotten that the second Harry Potter is kind of boring. (i.e. no signs yet of possible Ron/Hermione romance.)

Ë   Hours are only usable if they are between 7am and 11pm. Before/after that they become, at most, cupcake eating time. (I also think Liv’s character’s efficient sleeplessness was drug induced and I’m not into that).

Ë   I don’t want to count sheep because that’s really boring.

Ë   Watching Season 3 of The West Wing has been found to be counter-productive. In the past this activity has resulted in 1) Me becoming so sleepy that I miss the dialogue, or 2) Me becoming so over-stimulated that rather than sleeping, for the next three hours I lie awake considering the drama, romance and comedy of the American political system.

Ë   The previous days’ sooking probably will act as a give-away that sleeplessness is not the only possible reason for me to sooking.

Ë   I have no skill in make-up - certainly not enough to be able to pretend I’m not sleepy (but maybe enough to look like a reverse panda).

Maybe tonight I’ll start on the third Harry Potter… I remember that one being better. 

Cupcakes my sister's flatmate made for Australia Day (possibly she lives with Liv Tyler).

It was either this or blogging about sandwiches.

I know that I should probably get a job soon when I start doing things that bored people do.  Like dying my hair. And considering getting a nose ring. And wondering whether I could get the same tattoo as Scarlett Johansson without regretting it.

 It’s not like I don’t have better things I could be doing with my time. I’ve got plenty do; volunteering, songwriting, job searching. Loads. But I’ve noticed lately that the part of my psyche that wants a quick-fix of success is starting to kick in.

 I think this is because I'm not giving it enough attention. When I had a job, it was the part of my brain that I took shopping, and to the movies. Now, without the cash, it’s bored and in need of fast entertainment. 

As far as I can tell there are loads of ways to entertain oneself, that don’t require cash, or self mutilation. One easy answer to this is social media, which I think is kind of upsetting (Whatever, I know blogging is social media).

 For the purpose of this post I will discuss facebook. I get that facebook is great. It’s really great. It helps me invite people to gigs, I get invited to parties, and I can get good deals on stuff like moving vans, through enquiring generally to my 250 closest friends. In a matter of moments I can know which of my friends are engaged, eating sandwiches, watching the tennis, preparing for a mountain bike ride or eating sandwiches. Awesome.

 From experience, I also know that facebook is where time goes to die. The border-er (?) you are, the more you check facebook. The more you check facebook, the more you update your status. The more you update your status the more you check facebook in case someone comments on your awesome status (i.e. Kathryn Kelly is eating a sandwich). And the more people comment on your awesome status, the more  that you think you are some kind of status-updating-queen. And the more you believe that you are a status-updating-queen, the more you should DEFINITELY FIND SOME WAY TO GET OFF THIS THING BECAUSE YOU ARE TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED.

But I guess my only real problem that I really have with facebook is that I’m totally addicted to it. I hate it but I love it. And I’m not sure what the solution is.

 I could quit, but then I’d have to start blogging about sandwiches.

The dying-hair thing turned out to be serious (see photo, left-aligned).