First recipe - Chinese Fried Rice Inspired Couscous!

Hey everyone, finally about to get this blog up and running. I decided to just go ahead and post my first recipe --- If you like American Chinese food, or fried rice, then I'm pretty sure you'll love (and by love, I mean nearly demolish the entire recipe) my take on it. It's lighter than fried rice, but definitely a main meal dish. Serve with a side salad for a complete nutritional profile.

I'm a very visual person, so my recipes will be very "show and tell".

You'll need:

1 box Near East Roasted Garlic and Olive Oil Couscous (or any brand you prefer)
1 cup frozen or fresh broccoli florets
1/2 cup diced green peppers
1 small (golf ball sized) yellow onion
2 large eggs
1oz (think the size of about three dice) smoked Gouda cheese
2 tbsp butter
1/4tsp extra virgin olive oil
1/4tsp ground black pepper (or to taste)

Equipment:

Small pot
Large skillet
Cutting board (you can use anything, really)
Sharp knife
Heat safe spatula

Method:

Veggies -- Throw them in the skillet over medium high heat with 1 tbsp of the butter. Don't forget to chop your onion first. Cover and let cook, stirring occasionally, for about 5 minutes or until they're tender. Have faith, you'll be able to tell. If you can't, the onion should be slightly translucent, the broccoli bright green, and the pepper reduced in size. 

Couscous -- Prepare as the box instructs, except use only a 1/4 tsp of extra virgin olive oil. It's for flavor, not frying, you don't need that much with the butter in the rest of the recipe. BEFORE you add the couscous to the boiling water, add your 1oz of smoked Gouda that you've chopped into pieces. Let the cheese and seasoning boil together for about a minute, then add the dry couscous, cover with a lid, and turn the heat off.

By now your veggies in the skillet are nearly done, your couscous is absorbing all the flavor from the seasoning packet and Gouda, so you're read to move on to EGGS!

Eggs -- I bet you were wondering where that second tbps of butter came in, weren't you? Move your veggies over to one half of the skillet, and turn the heat to low. Add the tbs of butter to the clear side, let it melt, then crack open your eggs and scramble them. Add ground black pepper -- it's okay to eyeball it. It should look like this:

Alright, by now most of us know how to scramble eggs. Just don't let them burn, which means stirring constantly and making sure they don't stick to the pan until they turn opaque. Once they do, turn the heat OFF, even if you think they're not done yet. They'll continue to cook. I promise.

Meanwhile, your couscous should look like the picture; light, fluffy, and all the liquid absorbed. Stir it up with a fork to make sure the cheese got melted.

Make it healthier: Basically this is a refined carb dish, so it's pretty calorie heavy. You could switch the couscous to quinoa, millet, or amaranth, omit the butter and sub extra virgin coconut oil, and omit the cheese for a lighter, less processed whole grain dish. BUT since I wasn't cooking in my own kitchen (my boyfriend is a lot less health conscious than I am), this is what I had to work with, so this is what you get!

Once you've done that, COMBINE everything into the large skillet, mix together with the spatula, and serve! The recipe serves three if you're eating it combined with a salad, or two hungry people! Leave me your feedback in the comments section. Hope you enjoy this first recipe! ~ Irena

                   Nutritional Info (per 1 out of 3 total servings):

Cal: 365

 Carb: 42

Fat: 17

Protein: 15

Fiber: 4

Sugar: 4

                    

Animated Animator

I really enjoyed our guest speaker Marc Baird. At first I thought he was nervous, not saying anything and looking like he'd rather be anywhere but up in front of us all, but then he drew himself introducing himself, and it was all fun and entertainment from there on.

It was genuinely nice to see someone who so enjoys their work, who genuinely derives pleasure, pride, and happiness from their job. I don't think many people (or not nearly enough) get to have that sense of satisfaction. The way he described himself as a child drawing and being fascinated clearly translated to adult Marc, in his animated explanations.

I know he didn't really work for Disney, but he reminded me of a special I saw on about their Imagineers, who were basically animators and storyboard artists for Pocahontas, back when I was really little (and Disney Channel didn't suck), showing how the process of storyboarding translated into the real thing. I had those flip books too; there was one for the Lion King of the "Just Can't Wait To Be King" scene, and I used it so much until the paper's stiffness wore out and I couldn't make my own cartoons anymore.

It was really cool to hear an insider be so humble and talk about other big Hollywood directors as just people, give some credibility beyond the hype of the media.

I went to his second talk in Jewett at the SUNYwide Film Festival, and even though it was pretty much the exact same talk, it was cool to see him in action with his equipment, especially the motion capture technology of the Kinect. He made me want to see 21 Jump Street, too. I was very impressed that he got a room full of mostly adults to make sound effects to his little spaceship animatic he created for us, and at how quickly he could draw something and have it look so functional.

My favorite anecdote was his fear of Quentin Tarantino and Guillermo del Toro (who happens to be one of my favorite directors). As far as in class connections go, Marc really highlighted the need for motion in still pictures, something not as cut and dry in the Sandman comics, and something very present in the Hunger Games series, given that the author was used to writing blocking direction for TV. I'm not really sure how else his lecture tied in, given that it was mostly about the technical aspects and anecdotes of storyboarding, and how his style shifted with the needs of his current film project.

All in all, I'd really love if he taught regular classes here. He seemed like such a genuinely great guy. And he had awesome hair.

Crash Course in Gothabilly style and Pin Up Revival

So we've been watching Mad Men in class and viewing and discussing the importance of clothing, how it represents who we are and what we feel about ourselves. The clothing of the late 1950's early 1960's had a lot going for it:

From pretty little sweet-heart necked teacup dresses, cinched at a woman's natural waist, rather than what has become our "low waist" or basically where our hips end, to the sassy sundresses, pencil skirts, garter belts and hose that pin up models often wore (or were fantasized about while imagining them wearing) to  the  dress:

The point was that the clothing emphasized a woman's natural curves, as well as simultaneously hiding them for the most part. Clothing of the '50's and '60's stressed the cultural ideal, that a woman was a woman above all else, and that her body was only revealed (like her thoughts) in a socially acceptable way. She was seen while being invisible, in that she was viewed only in the way she wanted to be by society.

The modern (small, but growing) movement of Gothabilly mixes the cute kitsch of '50's and '60's dresses and hairstyles with today's expressionism, tattoos, leather, darker make up, and more skin. I think this is representative of cherishing the idealized icons of the old (Classic pinups, a time where realistic women's bodies were the height of sexual attraction, pre-Twiggy), while speaking out against the constraints women of that era were subjected to. A throwback to the pin ups of that time with the added bonus of tattoos and leather, corsets, pencil skirts, cherry motifs, (that do not just belong to Katy Perry), accompanied with a fondness for vintage cars and motorcycles.

Oh hey there it's me!

Ultimately I think this is my generation's answer (even if it is rooted in the 1980's via the music group The Cramps) to the women of Mad Men --- we're saying yes, we hear you, even though you didn't speak what you wanted to say. We're still like you in image, but we thank you for suffering in silence so we don't have to, and for letting us keep your clothes. We're speaking of our own social anxieties, in that we want to reclaim the style and aesthetics of our parents and grandparents, but without the societal conservative manner, so we make what was once a style of subjugation our own by adding tattoos and more makeup; a different context. We want to be unique and beautiful snowflakes while still being part of an exclusive club... so maybe we really aren't so different than our fore(mothers?) after all?

Gothabilly = in a nutshell is more Bettie Page than Betty Grable.

Questionable Content

I almost feel like I'm cheating when I say I like comics. Because, I do, but I don't read them. Well, not in the sense that our native Comic Culture Forum does; these guys should (and probably someday will) have PhD's on the subject. Their knowledge of comics is as thorough as Tom Bingham's knowledge of the origins of music.

When I say I like comics, I mean I was introduced to them through the superhero movies of my time (and through Wonder Woman and Gargoyles when I was really little) and fell in love. Hellboy was the first comic themed movie I ever saw and it really drew me in. I loved the artistic immersion of the film, the way it was over the top and yet completely believable, because it was a world on its own in all its much borrowed Lovecraftian Nazi beat'em'up glory.

 Then came the Batman films, where The Dark Knight and mostly Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker made "comic" movies something to be reckoned with. I enjoyed the X-Men movies, but not nearly as much as First Class, which is about a billion times better. Watchmen really disturbed me, in how the heroes were not any better, and often worse, than the villains themselves. That film and the comic it is based on is a great example of postmodernism; heroes who are more vile than the villains? Superman, I'm so over you.

300 was one of the most visually visceral movies I've ever seen, it is absolutely gorgeous to look at. It's stylized to look like the graphic novel, and you really do get the sense of higher quality print paper, highly stylized, and more refined subject matter when you watch the film adaptation (even if you are the sole girl in a party of 14 men watching the movie).

But the films leading up to and including May's gargantuan blockbuster Avengers Assemble (or known in the US simply as Marvel's The Avengers) just kind of kicked off my interest fullspeed. I love the whole universe, and I especially love how Marvel (and Joss Whedon) have taken caricatures and made them relevant to real life modern issues.

I see Iron Man as the "new" American identity; suave entrepreneur who has everything and is smart enough to protect his assets and mock/question a f/lailing government while remaining a needed commodity for world peace (or world weaponization). I see Captain America as the "old" American identity, representative of the underdog communal charm of the 1940's, a propagandized force of good and keeping everyone's best interests at the forefront.  Bruce Banner/the Hulk is the modernization of Shelley's Frankenstein monster, and a nod at the danger that accompanies modern medicine. Black Widow, though blatantly styled in a sexist manner (both keeping in tradition and a nod to the fanboy --- I've honestly come to be rather fond of the stereotypical portrayal of women in comic universes --- at least in the physical department) is a strong, thoroughly capable woman, a figure needed by all Y chromosome carriers. The Thor and Loki dynamic could be viewed in multiple ways; again, the struggles of an underdog in a bigger mans shadow, or a look at the dangers of neglect in childhood raised by televisions.

Maybe I'm reaching a bit, but I think what is most wonderful about comic culture is how identifiable its characters and stories are, both in fictionalized worlds and their modern reality counterparts. You don't necessarily need to read the entire backlog of comic lore to jump in and get attached.

I've been looking for a gateway into reading a "legitimate" comic for a long time, and the backlog of Marvel and DC is too intimidating to attempt, much like trying to watch Dr. Who from the very beginning when really all you like is Torchwood anyway. Sandman is the first "real" comic I'm reading, and I thoroughly enjoy it so far. It takes a bit of getting used to as far as adjusting the left to right reading standard goes, but I really am glad that this was assigned as a text.

My illegitimate webcomic reading: http://questionablecontent.net/

Ultimately I love how comics are representative of the pop culture and concern of their time, and the identities their authors wanted to see in themselves.

If It Bleeds It Leads --- If It Sells, it Smells

Ah, the monster that is the modern music industry. Given that there has largely been no real "new" music to grace Top 40 stations in the past 45 years, the shift of focus has been to that of spectacle, rather than innovative substance. Looks like the filmmakers behind "Video Killed the Radio Star" were correct in their prediction; visual spectacle has superseded any attention to musical significance.

Making it in today's music industry seems more of an issue of being at the right place at the right time and how far you're willing to go into crazy territory.

I used to think Lady Gaga was pretty cool, trained at Juliard, writing her own songs and everything, supportive of gay rights, but now her music is pretty much shit and her spectacle is just that --- all style and no substance, unless you count flashy pretention. She's not doing anything new or innovative; she's recycling the ideas and musicality of the 80's stars (see her feud with Madonna, anyone?) except with a bigger budget and more media to manipulate.

What bothers me I guess is that at least the 80's were tongue in cheek and obvious in their cheesy, over the top emulation of form over function. This recycled version is taking itself way too seriously and actually thinks  the garbage it is churning out is new and unique, and teens are taking that trend, too.

Seriously, get off my lawn and write something new that at least is fun.

Alternatively, a band outside of the Top 40 and yet still mimicking tropes of their own genre (be careful if in a public setting, there is swearing in the video) but really let's be honest I just actually love these guys, check them out instead:

Multi-platinum selling Finnish export Nightwish record with the London Philharmonic Orchestra and the same choirs that give sound to soundtracks like Lord of the Rings. They're the first of their kind of symphonic metal. Used to have an opera soprano as lead vocals, I like their new lady Anette better.

Heard of them here? Nope. Thanks, Billboard 100.

Spinmasters and the Magic Bullet

As a public relations major, advertising and marketing often make an appearance in my studies. Even if I wasn't studying the inner workings of the media world, I would still be bombarded daily with the final product. On average, the typical American person can see up to 5,000 ads in one day. (According to CBS.com, anyway)

Let's break that down. 5,000 ads. That's 208 ads an hour, or, around 4 ads a minute,or, a partial (half) an ad per second. Are you kidding me? Seriously? This probably has a lot to do with how media saturated our daily lives have become; television, radio, the internet, smart phones, tablets, e-readers, video gaming consoles, newspapers, billboards, product-wrapped automobiles, etc. But come on, that is still a sickeningly large amount for one individual to be exposed to in a 24 hour period. So what's with this obnoxious amount of advertising? Why do we allow this to permeate our society so thoroughly that America has become a marketing utopia?

According to our readings, "The desire for transfiguration of the self" was key to the flourishing of carnivalesque advertising. The transfiguration of the self. As Americans we have always been in search of a self-actualized identity, cultivating a perception of ourselves that we desire others to see, even if that is not what we truly are. We've painted on Blackface in search of exploring the exotic other, of drawing out the darker (no pun intended) aspects of our suppressed Puritanical culture (sexuality, blasphemy, political commentary, alcohol, etc.). We've played Indian to express our nationalism, clinging to what symbolism was already here when we arrived and were searching for something to classify ourselves apart from Europe and uniquely American. We are still left in search of self actualization because all these things existed apart from ourselves (White America) without us. What if the new mask wasn't visible to others? What if we could take a pill that would alter us, and only we would know, but it would still allow for us to become what we wanted to be on the exterior? Would we believe in magic, to obtain that sense of power? That is the magic of advertising, the willingness to suspend disbelief that someone finally managed to concoct the elusive magic bullet, that will solve our problems for us. A faceless identity we can cling to to allow us to become ourselves.

As a monesary aside, treasure seeking also contributed (and still does) to the success of "ancient" advertisement. Who doesn't want more money, to buy more "more"? Typically, the most elaborately constructed self has the most money, who then in turn buy more things and promote the idea of self worth through materialization.

Ultimately I think public relations analysts and advertising/marketing technicians are probably the most honest of humans. They recognize that human nature is openly shallow and keen to organize, avoidant of cognitive dissonance, and fond of routine. They freely acknowledge this and have found a way to profit off of it, for the better (in an ethical public relations career) or worse (see the sleazy PR guy stereotype) of those who buy into the ideology that products can make you feel good and add to your daily life.

Or that's what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.

Lassoing the Past

On my first field trip since I was 11 years old, we went to Sinclairville, NY for the Wild Bunch Wild West Show, hosted by Bill Frost and his wife of 32 years Lucile. In addition to a full scale Wild West town built right in their front yard, complete with a Boot Hill (where bad guys go to die), horses, and a beware of Guns and Children sign, Bill and Lucile also are host the the "greatest collection of authentic cowboy saddles you'll find on the East Coast", with items dating back to the early 1800's.

Bill himself is turning 83 years old in October, not that you'd know it by looking at him. Certainly, age is showing in this cowboy's movements and words, but get him talking about his passion and you'd swear you were looking at a man over fifty years younger. Knowledgeable, kind, and sincere, Bill spoke to us about his saddle collection with such enthusiasm you instantly liked and admired the man. He walked us through each and every saddle, pointing out special ones of pride here and there. Rumor has it he owns a saddle ridden by the Annie Oakley herself, of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show fame. As skeptical as my generation is, I want to believe it is really hers, both because of the ruby embedded in heart shaped metal worked into the leather, and because the man who currently owns it is so proud of the idea that it could be hers.

But more than any saddle of Annie Oakley's, the one that touched my heart more than anything else was the last saddle Bill showed us; it was large, black, worked with silver metal and studs, and it had belonged to his father. The story he told us involved something you'd normally only hear in a movie. His father had sold it long before Bill himself was ready to collect cowboy saddles, and it disappeared as sold items do. Decades later, having heard he was the man to go to for the selling of Wild West paraphernalia, a woman showed up at Bill's house, looking to sell the saddle in her trunk. Little did she know that the trunk held Bill's fathers saddle, and that he would have "shot her for it", like any joking cowboy would. But the sentiment was not lost on me, and I could tell how much rediscovering his father's saddle meant to the old cowboy.

What I took away from the field trip was that authenticity mattered to these people, and that you could be a cowboy or cowgirl wherever you were, whoever you were, as long as you stuck true to what it meant to be one. In Bill Frost's case, being a cowboy meant knowing everything there was to know about the Wild West and having the authentic items, but also having the functional use of roping, riding, and gun tricks to back it up. It didn't matter to him that he lives in Western NY; he was true to the idea of the Old West, and in return it was true to him, and continues to be the core of his life. The authenticity in his actions, and the ability to acknowledge a vast difference between what was an actual working cowboy and the flashy trick-ropers of Wild West Shows were what allowed for the Cowboy of the East's self actualization.

But that idea of the cowboy, of the Old West, is a cultivated one, centered around the beginnings of mass pop culture entertainment. Buffalo Bill's Wild West show had only the tiniest sliver of authenticity to it; the scalping of one unfortunate Indian scout validating decades of spectacle and crafting an idea that would breach generations of pop culture, writing a version of history that evoked fond nostalgia for the Old West, right down to our 82 year old Eastern Cowboy and his whip-cracking grandson.

Native American Indians joined up with the barely-legitimate spectacle in order to preserve some form of their own culture, and to have it publicized by their own people in favor of false "White Indians". In a way, I think this was one of the earlier forms of public relations; the Indians assessing that if they presented themselves in a positive way, in a manner that would associate their people with something white culture liked and even adored (the Wild West Show), it would create cognitive dissonance for people to think of their Wild West Indians negatively in future legal procedures, and hopefully give their people a chance for more presence in the national arena.

That willfulness to preserve the more fondly remembered aspects of culture, of cultivating and placing emphasis on a connotative meaning rather than the actual history of events and people exists in all of us, I believe. Either way, any man who can spin a 30 foot loop weighing a pound per foot over his head at the age of 82 is allowed his nostalgia in my book. Truly, if this formulated lens of looking at the Old West creates people who have such shining ideals and manners as Bill Frost, and these people believe in "Cowboy Honor and manners and way of life" because of this crafted American identity, there might just be a bit of authentic silver lining in the the falsification of history. Or maybe, like those who loved the Wild West shows, I'm just a sucker for noble sentiment.