Burnout*

What happens when your heart is racing, your fingertips are shaking, but your eyelids are heavy and your heart heaves slowly up and down?

What happens when your insides are quivering, your abdomen is tightening, but you ate so much cookie dough out of the cookie dough ice cream that your middle is uncomfortably full and heavy?

Is it unhealthy...? Should I be doing something to end it? I'm tired of the suspension, the constant feeling of anticipation like at any given second I could leap up and GO but then I think....where could I go what could I possibly do? And my sleepy brain protests because it is suffering from an internal neurotic war: furrowed, tense forebrain and a panicking amygdala struggle to hold down my out-of-control medulla...what a mess. It's a scene, it's a scene, it's a scene behind these white walls.

Aiii.

In other news, I have mixed feelings about The Onion. Aren't there enough REAL stories to process already? Do we really need to throw in a slew of completely false ones to mull over, searching for some satiric intelligence? I admit, I do giggle a tiny bit once in awhile for a reason I have not yet been able to explicate. But still..I dislike reading an article someone sends me and having to first consider whether or not it is worth my time or was just pulled out of some Columbia graduate's ass.

Discuss.

...

Oh yeah, and I went to New York!

*Note: the use of the term "burnout" on this blog is not in reference to the well-known popular culture moniker associated with heavy metal, leather, and the 1980s but rather the psychological term popularized by Dr. Herbert Freudenberger (don't laugh. whether it is in a witty, dry way or an immature way, I won't tolerate it) in 1974 and included in the ICD-10 but not currently recognized in the DSM.

Klutzy.

I am a mess. I am a mess today. Like, more of a mess than I usually am. I think it has something to do with the fact that I am wearing pants to class, which makes me feel a little bit self-conscious as they mercilessly showcase my thighs, ass, and hips. Okay, so leggings aren't the MOST forgiving pants out there, but I'm taking baby steps. And at least I'm warm! A little too warm, maybe--in the library my phone started ringing and I jumped up to leave, forgetting that I had just popped the lid off of my coffee cup to let my drink cool more quickly. Ironically, it spilled scalding water all over my right hand and the floor, which I had to clean up with napkins while trying to schedule an appointment on my phone. Whew.

I would say, "welcome to my life," but you already knew that!

On Sunday I stumbled upon this website and really love the little video it plays. I wouldn't title it exactly like this had it been mine, but I truly believe all the blurbs. It's a few minutes, but it's worth it if you're looking for a pick-me-up or are feeling a little shut down or held back, as I do at times.

Oh yeah, and you can mute the music. It don't think it's EXACTLY a fit :)

I'll leave you with a gentle reminder via PostSecret.

It's above the text--I am clearly technologically challenged.

Chin up, head up, heart up!

Brennan's for Breakfast & Fantasyland

This Saturday, I finally made it down to Brennan's restaurant for breakfast. My first experience with Brennan's occurred back in October, while on an impromptu hooky date with the boy. We stumbled into Brennan's on Royal to escape the rain and realized that this essential New Orleans facility was our place to be. It wasn't until after about fifteen minutes of chatting with the hostess and looking over the menu in the foyer that we realized that they weren't even serving at that time, so we reluctantly left. We ended up spending a wonderful two hours at Galatoire's, but more on that in another post, maybe.

Anyway, I was taken Saturday morning by my late grandmother's childhood friend and cousin and her husband. I love Dawn because she sounds, looks, and acts just like my Grandmother, probably because they grew up together. They treated me to a wonderful three-course breakfast of strawberries with double cream, ham and cheddar omelet, and bananas foster for dessert. Though Brennan's has a tradition of suggesting a separate bottle of wine to go along with each dish at breakfast, I stuck with three cups of hot tea (I was disappointed that all the server could offer was Lipton) to go with the crusty baguettes typical of the New Orleans traditions.

Strawberries and double cream might be a sin, but it may be the best thing I have ever tasted in my life. It's all the luxury of whipped cream without the distracting fluffiness you get from a can or tub of Cool Whip.

Whenever I come here with my girlfriends for breakfast, I think I might stick with the strawberries because I've never been much of an egg fan, and almost all the main courses at Brennan's are egg-based. They are beautiful and creative, though; the Eggs Portuguese looked like beautiful poached eggs atop Grands biscuits.

The bananas foster is a Brennan's staple. Picky me has never cared for heated/cooked/seared fruit in any way, shape, or form, but I managed to enjoy the cinnamon and banana liquor-simmered banana slices over vanilla ice cream topped with bourbon. It's prepared in front of the table, flames and everything.

I'm currently occupied with Haroun and the Sea of Stories, my first Salman Rushdie experience. So far, it seems to echoe Roald Dahl and Madame L'Engle in its central foreign character and vivid landscapes to go along with the dreamlike quality of plot events. I'll write a formal review (hopefully!) as one of my new projects when I complete it!

It's going to be a beautiful week. I can feel it !