Quite the blog post title, no?
The back story's pretty simple. One day a man arrived on campus, aiming to offload some plants on undergrads with parents with bulging wallets. There was the standard array of cacti etc, but also some mildly exuberant plants like flytraps and bonsais. A bonsai caught my eye as I was walking past, and I figured "why the hell not, I'll buy it". So why the hell not, I bought it (along with a tub of bonsai takeaway that will last the little bugger eight years) and took it home.
Guess what, the sly capitalist flower seller didn't include a base for the pot, which promptly turned out to have two holes in the bottom. It was a long day at uni, I did some work and went to the pool, so I failed to notice this minute detail straight off the bat. As such, the bonsai was living in the green bag it came with, and it was sloppily fed from a cup every Monday & Friday. On the bonsai's 13th day in my room, I decided that enough's enough and opted to roll to IKEA and get some sort of base for the pot.
First obstacle - what the hell is the size of the pot? I don't have a ruler, but my notebook's graph paper. As such, I took my graph paper notebook and rammed it against the sides of the pot, unraveling the mystery of its dimensions. Lifehack protip, kids - each one of those graph paper squares is 5 millimetres. Now you too can throw away your ruler and live the Rumpy life!
With that out of the way, I caught a bus to IKEA... and I took my time walking around the whole display, looking at things, thinking of things. IKEA's very international, and we have some elements from IKEA in Poland as well. I'm not saying the entire house is made from IKEA things, as my mom's far too aesthetic to let that thing slide, but last time around I caved and got the exact same wastepaper basket I have in both the Polish houses. No, I don't take said wastepaper basket with me when we go from one house to the other, there are two separate copies of said item. And now a third one is residing next to me. Now I caved and got some nice plates, with leaves and colours, to replace the cheepnis schmuck I've been using up to now. I'm gonna be here for two more years, may as well make the place slightly more comfy. Hence the bonsai and the nice plates. I take a weird sense of comfort from the fact that I could have gone to the IKEA which we frequent in Poland and picked up the very same plates.
I remember when I got all nostalgic the first time I went to the UK IKEA, as its overall smell and nature reminded me of the Polish one. Bot, who accompanied me for the trip, mocked me for it pretty hard. Screw him :P
I also picked up a little wooden bowl for the purpose of mixing spices easily. Reminded me a bit of the wooden bowl in which my grandparents kept walnuts and a nutcracker. The nostalgia just keeps on coming!
But wait! There's more! For whatever reason, on the bus trip home, I got nostalgic :P This time around, my thoughts carried me to the return bus trip from a ski camp in Italy which I attended around 2007 or so. Everybody was tired, I was kicking back, relaxing, one ear had Velvet Revolver's "Loving The Alien" and the other ear had a chick who was mean to me all camp long trying awkwardly to say that maybe "final impressions would count, not the first ones". I met up with the people from the ski camp by pure accident some time later on the standard mountain my family skis on, said chick wasn't present as she overslept. Someone mentioned that she wanted to go out with me. Those were the days when I still attracted females, I had a bit more hair on my head, a bit less on my face, and less fat on the gut :P for whatever reason, I reminisced about that in spite of its absolute lack of significance, with Slash's solo playing in my head. Screw the haters, Contraband had some really nice tracks. That record taught me all the basics of writing songs.
Music-wise, I'm working on Nakpat tracks, putting together a running order in my head. Some oldies, some new ones. Should be good.
Okay, time to end this. Got some pizza to attend to. My bonsai is looking menacing with a mildly asian-looking, curled-corner saucer as the base. Life's good, even though it's not really that amazing. I'm a big boy, gotta fly out of the nest, and be less self-centered about how every last thing is bad and how much I hate life and miss Poland. Gotta keep moving forward. See you all next time, and of course take care everybody.
19.9.13
Some faith in humanity restored
Well, it had to happen. The zipper in my backpack decided it needs to spice up its life and broke, rendering what once used to be a reliable source of storage into a flapping distraction completely unsuited for having anything stored within. I figured out a way to carry it around by holding it close to my chest, akin to a baby, but it's incredibly impractical, makes my back hurt for whatever reason, and would be ill-advised for the trip I'm gonna be taking tomorrow. Oh boy, the "long road" to Poland, using the further away airport. Do not want flapping backpack for this.
As such, I ditched the course I was supposed to be partaking in to find someone to fix it up for me in the city center. There was supposed to be a cobbler in the market, but no such luck. I went to the tailor I found online, and got turned down. However, the person told me of another cobbler in some other part of town, so I went there. The dude behind the register looked like your typical scenester kid - tats, the bizarre ginormous O shaped earrings, hairdo, all there. Still, he took a look at the screwed zipper, chopped off the messed up tip and installed a new one. When asked how much I owe him, he just told me to throw a pound into the charity box. I threw in two. I also gave the insufferable wailer who was banging out his greatest hits on the nearby square 50p. My backpack lives to see another day, and my perpetual, ever-advancing depression was lifted for a moment of pure feel-good.
The weather is warm and sunny, but not quite as insufferable as it was in the summer. Everything looks beautiful again, like the day I first came to the UK. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, as I am pretty tired, like the day I came in with that 6am flight. Okay fine I was a bit more tired then. But also then the UK seemed like the beautiful land of light from a Ionesco play, and now it's merely beautiful, so it's also a step down.
I'm tired, so tired of going down... to quote Electric Six. The three complete tracks posted as previews from the new record are far superior to the unrepresentative, compressed samples from Amazon. Roll on Mustang. Peace.
As such, I ditched the course I was supposed to be partaking in to find someone to fix it up for me in the city center. There was supposed to be a cobbler in the market, but no such luck. I went to the tailor I found online, and got turned down. However, the person told me of another cobbler in some other part of town, so I went there. The dude behind the register looked like your typical scenester kid - tats, the bizarre ginormous O shaped earrings, hairdo, all there. Still, he took a look at the screwed zipper, chopped off the messed up tip and installed a new one. When asked how much I owe him, he just told me to throw a pound into the charity box. I threw in two. I also gave the insufferable wailer who was banging out his greatest hits on the nearby square 50p. My backpack lives to see another day, and my perpetual, ever-advancing depression was lifted for a moment of pure feel-good.
The weather is warm and sunny, but not quite as insufferable as it was in the summer. Everything looks beautiful again, like the day I first came to the UK. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, as I am pretty tired, like the day I came in with that 6am flight. Okay fine I was a bit more tired then. But also then the UK seemed like the beautiful land of light from a Ionesco play, and now it's merely beautiful, so it's also a step down.
I'm tired, so tired of going down... to quote Electric Six. The three complete tracks posted as previews from the new record are far superior to the unrepresentative, compressed samples from Amazon. Roll on Mustang. Peace.
15.9.13
How to get depressed by a kindermetal song
In an attempt to distract myself from the bleakness of the surrounding reality, I started thinking what sort of musical shit I haven't listened to in a while but could get some mileage from at this point in the time-space continuum. For whatever reason, my brain went with 55 Escape. While the album and EP downed, I went to YouTube Forever, their signature tune. Still as pleasant as ever. I saw Open Your Eyes in the related vids... and remembering that I used to enjoy it back in the day, I clicked it.
Bad choice. The EP with that tune was released just as my relationship with my ex was bottoming out, and that song was a bit of a soundtrack to that. Nowhere near as much as My Love is a Knife, for example, but but it served as some sort of aural documentation of my misguided attempts to make both her and me happy somehow. This song was that - there were the nu metal elements of old (yes, I dig some nu metal, bite me), with the heavy guitars and whatnot, and there were the kindergoth elemenents with the angelic vocals and overall Evanescence-style vibe. So it was a best of both worlds. And somehow, now, listening to this track three and a half years later, I get overcome by all sorts of emotions.
Well, I wish I didn't flubbed it, in all honesty. I flubbed it hard, early, and the rest was just a long process of me ripping myself to shreds and her having to put up with it. Needless to say, in perspective I'm not all that proud of myself. But at least I'm being rekd hard by karma for this - I'm now 3.5 years older, fatter, balder and uglier, and nowhere near getting out of being single. I'm at that stage of my life that I'm becoming kind of too certain I won't find anyone. And I'm surrounded by people not being alone all around me, heck, even the other guitar dude from Nakpat has a girlfriend. He also had a charming housemate but he moved so there goes that. Not like she'd have wanted me anyway.
So yeah, just me moping over being a useless sack of shit, the usual show. This place still sucks, I've been away from home for over two months now, it's a bit much, I'm starting to walk on walls from this. I actually snapped midway through my last supervisor meeting and just bashed the crap out of myself and my work in a passive, defeatist, depressed manner. Is best manner.
Now I'm blasting's Perimeter's second record, as a demonstration of simple, testosterone-laden brutality. It's kind of working. As JR would say, fuck this gay earth. Enough moping, gotta get my shit together and last through this last week and then go home for a while.
Bad choice. The EP with that tune was released just as my relationship with my ex was bottoming out, and that song was a bit of a soundtrack to that. Nowhere near as much as My Love is a Knife, for example, but but it served as some sort of aural documentation of my misguided attempts to make both her and me happy somehow. This song was that - there were the nu metal elements of old (yes, I dig some nu metal, bite me), with the heavy guitars and whatnot, and there were the kindergoth elemenents with the angelic vocals and overall Evanescence-style vibe. So it was a best of both worlds. And somehow, now, listening to this track three and a half years later, I get overcome by all sorts of emotions.
Well, I wish I didn't flubbed it, in all honesty. I flubbed it hard, early, and the rest was just a long process of me ripping myself to shreds and her having to put up with it. Needless to say, in perspective I'm not all that proud of myself. But at least I'm being rekd hard by karma for this - I'm now 3.5 years older, fatter, balder and uglier, and nowhere near getting out of being single. I'm at that stage of my life that I'm becoming kind of too certain I won't find anyone. And I'm surrounded by people not being alone all around me, heck, even the other guitar dude from Nakpat has a girlfriend. He also had a charming housemate but he moved so there goes that. Not like she'd have wanted me anyway.
So yeah, just me moping over being a useless sack of shit, the usual show. This place still sucks, I've been away from home for over two months now, it's a bit much, I'm starting to walk on walls from this. I actually snapped midway through my last supervisor meeting and just bashed the crap out of myself and my work in a passive, defeatist, depressed manner. Is best manner.
Now I'm blasting's Perimeter's second record, as a demonstration of simple, testosterone-laden brutality. It's kind of working. As JR would say, fuck this gay earth. Enough moping, gotta get my shit together and last through this last week and then go home for a while.
9.7.13
The most happiest day
Today, I had one of those days that feel amazing from start to finish. You know the type.
Was off to visit a friend in a nearby city. A friend of said friend tagged along. We had spot-on sushi, three good beers per head (good beer, coming from Rumpy, means the beer was 100% un-bitter, more-less), we saw a mediocre yet amusing zombie flick by the name of World War Z, a surprisingly satisfying kebab, and we screwed around playing free foosball in a pub afterwards. The weather was great - warm, but not too hot, and there were plenty of good-looking girls around. The banter was ever-flowing, never stopping, and ranged from serious stuff to off the wall silliness. Some highlights include showing off our foreign student IDs to the bewildered yet cooperative cinema clerk, offering up Getting Rekd 101: The Illustrated Guide in foosball in spite of getting 2v1'd, and historical banter about the interactions of Nordic and Baltic countries.
I could probably write more. It's just proof that the beautiful moments in life are really great, and well worth it once they finally show up. Hopefully good times lie ahead, and I'll have tons of those type of days. Signing out. Gotta enjoy the last bits of my mountain stay before I'm back to the UK. It's gonna be a busy summer. Two statistics courses, finishing the paper, making an algorithm to get some sort of rational (hopefully biological enough) conclusions... I think I'll manage though.
Was off to visit a friend in a nearby city. A friend of said friend tagged along. We had spot-on sushi, three good beers per head (good beer, coming from Rumpy, means the beer was 100% un-bitter, more-less), we saw a mediocre yet amusing zombie flick by the name of World War Z, a surprisingly satisfying kebab, and we screwed around playing free foosball in a pub afterwards. The weather was great - warm, but not too hot, and there were plenty of good-looking girls around. The banter was ever-flowing, never stopping, and ranged from serious stuff to off the wall silliness. Some highlights include showing off our foreign student IDs to the bewildered yet cooperative cinema clerk, offering up Getting Rekd 101: The Illustrated Guide in foosball in spite of getting 2v1'd, and historical banter about the interactions of Nordic and Baltic countries.
I could probably write more. It's just proof that the beautiful moments in life are really great, and well worth it once they finally show up. Hopefully good times lie ahead, and I'll have tons of those type of days. Signing out. Gotta enjoy the last bits of my mountain stay before I'm back to the UK. It's gonna be a busy summer. Two statistics courses, finishing the paper, making an algorithm to get some sort of rational (hopefully biological enough) conclusions... I think I'll manage though.
6.6.13
The Vicious Cycle Of Depression || Rumpy & The Ladies
Yknow what's funny? When I get depressed, I stop being able to do anything, more less. As in - I can do work and stuff from the confines of my room, but even going to the shop becomes a challenge. As such, I become immobilised. As a result of that, I become even more depressed. Rinse, repeat, thrombophlebitis at the ripe old age of 23. Well fuck. During my last visit home, my mom managed to finally motivate me to plant that well-needed kick on my ass and start moving again, go to the pool and stuff.
Still, the split second I get lazy or whatever, the vicious cycle will set in again, woohoo. I'll try to just keep it going. I'll have it easier when I move on campus for the summer.
Anyway, continuing the post - I went to the pool today. Was neat. Did half a kilometre without stopping once. Not that impressive, I know, but I'm a fat bastard, so it's pretty neat for me. Afterwards I could barely move, but it was extremely rewarding. So I was on the bus stop dying, and in walks a neat-o lady. Like 90% of the ladies I find attractive, she was caucasian, callipygous and dark-haired. And she got on the same bus as me.
Well, dandy. I spent the first half of the bus ride motivating myself to get off my ass and go to her and start up a chat. No stupid pick-up lines, no nothing, just blunt honesty. Ay you, you caught my eye at the bus stop, my name is Rumpy and I'm very pleased to meet you. What do I get to know about her? Nothing at all. Hell, even if I'd met her at a Dinosaur Jr gig or whatever it wouldn't necessarily mean she enjoys Dinosaur Jr. All I have that I can go from is the way she looks, and anybody with half a brain will know it and understand it and the getting to know each other part starts, maybe resulting in something pretty damn interesting.
After much repeating of "dude, sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something" in my head, I charged in. Of course, no ordered sentence came out. Just some random blabber, I think I pronounced "eye" right and that's that. Typical British courtesy upon my arrival quickly turned into a prompt "well, I'm minding my own business" ice-cold reply and turning away. Back to the drawing board. First step to being kind of good at something, long journey ahead of me.
No Cooking with Rumpy this time, go order a pizza or something. I need to wallow in self-pity over how bad I am with the ladies kthx.
Still, the split second I get lazy or whatever, the vicious cycle will set in again, woohoo. I'll try to just keep it going. I'll have it easier when I move on campus for the summer.
Anyway, continuing the post - I went to the pool today. Was neat. Did half a kilometre without stopping once. Not that impressive, I know, but I'm a fat bastard, so it's pretty neat for me. Afterwards I could barely move, but it was extremely rewarding. So I was on the bus stop dying, and in walks a neat-o lady. Like 90% of the ladies I find attractive, she was caucasian, callipygous and dark-haired. And she got on the same bus as me.
Well, dandy. I spent the first half of the bus ride motivating myself to get off my ass and go to her and start up a chat. No stupid pick-up lines, no nothing, just blunt honesty. Ay you, you caught my eye at the bus stop, my name is Rumpy and I'm very pleased to meet you. What do I get to know about her? Nothing at all. Hell, even if I'd met her at a Dinosaur Jr gig or whatever it wouldn't necessarily mean she enjoys Dinosaur Jr. All I have that I can go from is the way she looks, and anybody with half a brain will know it and understand it and the getting to know each other part starts, maybe resulting in something pretty damn interesting.
After much repeating of "dude, sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something" in my head, I charged in. Of course, no ordered sentence came out. Just some random blabber, I think I pronounced "eye" right and that's that. Typical British courtesy upon my arrival quickly turned into a prompt "well, I'm minding my own business" ice-cold reply and turning away. Back to the drawing board. First step to being kind of good at something, long journey ahead of me.
No Cooking with Rumpy this time, go order a pizza or something. I need to wallow in self-pity over how bad I am with the ladies kthx.
23.4.13
The Frankfurter Secret
Welcome back! It's your loveable dissonant overlord, and I've got some music news plus another recipe for you today! The music news is simple - Nakpat is very slowly starting to take off, and I co-wrote my first properly co-written song in years with the other guitarist on Saturday. I came with a couple of riffs, he came with a couple of riffs, I dropped his riffs into drop Bb (yes, I have trouble getting rid of the heavy, but that will make Nakpat more interesting aurally, so no real loss), we jammed off each other's riffs and jam ideas for a while, and a rough template for a pretty interesting track got made. I'm pleased that Nakpat is a bit adventurous without stooping into the bizarre.
Yet.
Hopefully I'll manage to contain my crazy alter ego and not drift off into insanity with it :P Time will tell. For now, need a dedicated drummer and singer.
And now, the fooding! I'm about to share with you the most shocking culinary secret passed on to me by my family... for you see, frankfurters work as a "proper meat" substitute in a lot of situations. My mom's spaghetti with frankfurters, predating my entrance onto this mortal coil, is arguably my dad's favorite dish. As such, I had the approach in my blood, and I whipped up my very own recipe where the frankfurters are present by default and not subbing for something else. Without further ado, the recipe!
Potato and Frankfurter Whatsit
Ingredients:
1. 350g frankfurters
2. 200g bacon
3. 1kg potatoes
4. olive oil
5. half a head of garlic
6. rosemary
7. thyme
How-to:
1. Slice up frankfurters
2. Slice up bacon
3. Slice up potatoes into bite-size bits
4. Start heating olive oil (pour in not quite enough to cover the pan's bottom) on a small flame
5. Crush up garlic
6. Throw garlic into olive oil, marvel at the best small in the world
7. Quit marvelling over how amazing garlic and hot olive oil smell, throw in bacon. Bump up the heat a bit, fry bacon until it's no longer raw
8. Throw in frankfurters, stir for a while until the thing is nice and warm throughout.
9. Add potatoes. Repeat the waiting a while thing
10. Generously cover the thing with rosemary. Stir in.
11. Repeat with thyme. Stir in.
12. Add a bit of water, cover with lid, increase heat a bit more.
13. Do the dishes. Turn the heat down.
14. Go upstairs. Watch Futurama.
15. Go downstairs. Tuck in!
So yeah, that's about it. See you all next time, and of course take care everybody :3
Yet.
Hopefully I'll manage to contain my crazy alter ego and not drift off into insanity with it :P Time will tell. For now, need a dedicated drummer and singer.
And now, the fooding! I'm about to share with you the most shocking culinary secret passed on to me by my family... for you see, frankfurters work as a "proper meat" substitute in a lot of situations. My mom's spaghetti with frankfurters, predating my entrance onto this mortal coil, is arguably my dad's favorite dish. As such, I had the approach in my blood, and I whipped up my very own recipe where the frankfurters are present by default and not subbing for something else. Without further ado, the recipe!
Potato and Frankfurter Whatsit
Ingredients:
1. 350g frankfurters
2. 200g bacon
3. 1kg potatoes
4. olive oil
5. half a head of garlic
6. rosemary
7. thyme
How-to:
1. Slice up frankfurters
2. Slice up bacon
3. Slice up potatoes into bite-size bits
4. Start heating olive oil (pour in not quite enough to cover the pan's bottom) on a small flame
5. Crush up garlic
6. Throw garlic into olive oil, marvel at the best small in the world
7. Quit marvelling over how amazing garlic and hot olive oil smell, throw in bacon. Bump up the heat a bit, fry bacon until it's no longer raw
8. Throw in frankfurters, stir for a while until the thing is nice and warm throughout.
9. Add potatoes. Repeat the waiting a while thing
10. Generously cover the thing with rosemary. Stir in.
11. Repeat with thyme. Stir in.
12. Add a bit of water, cover with lid, increase heat a bit more.
13. Do the dishes. Turn the heat down.
14. Go upstairs. Watch Futurama.
15. Go downstairs. Tuck in!
So yeah, that's about it. See you all next time, and of course take care everybody :3
19.2.13
The Magical Alliance
Alas, alack, all that is dandy has to end, and today I flew back in to UKland after an extended weekend at home (there was a proper large-scale family celebration I had to attend). After saying my goodbyes, and making it through the security check unscathed (hope you loved your rock-solid-yet-still-somehow-liquid-according-to-you curry paste that used to be mine, UKland control officer), I seated myself in the optimal position on the aircraft - just behind the magical reserved seats, aka I'd be the first zooming out of there once the plane hit the ground. Just as I made myself comfy, they made their appearance.
The Magical Alliance caught my ear first, then my eye when I turned around to see what was making the racket. The racket was being made by three very fine young gentlemen in Adidas track suits. The leader looked like a carbon copy of one of the dunderheads who used to pick on me in middle school. His right-hand crony seemed to be so stupid that blinking and walking at once must have been too hard for him... I guess he did the leader dude some wrong, as he was seated next to the window. With all the mental capacity the window-sitter could muster, admiring the views outside could literally take his breath away. The third member of the group, and the hero of the story up ahead, sported a ridiculous mohawk-mullet hybrid that would have looked dreadful in the early nineties, let alone now. I just scoffed at their barbed language, writing it off as the lads being excited before embarking on a trip to the depths of the job ladder.
Spurting idiocy apparently wasn't enough. At some point mid flight, the hero of the tale produced a bottle of alcohol. I'm not sure exactly how they distributed the grapefruit vodka or whatever the hell it was, but said hero held the empty bottle when I noticed them taking their party to the next level. Also, somehow, it was him swaying in the general direction of the toilet moments later as his comrades remained seated. As such, I guess that his brain cell didn't think it was a bad idea to down the whole thing. Soon enough, the flight attendants got the guy in check, and he was placed in the magical fenced off reserved seats. Right in front of me.
Lovely.
As The Great And Powerful Rumpy is a walking example of mild-to-average emetophobia, I spent the rest of the flight bunged up in an embryo position with my bag and coat (fuck regulations, no way is it under the seat where there's a fraction of a chance he'll barf on it somehow). Ugh. Not fun at all.
My mood was slightly improved when the boss of the pack went to speak with the fallen. At first they were exchanging bro-hugs, but soon enough it degenerated into a shouting match with the drunken dude doing his best to hit the sober one. Once again, flight attendants had to step in. The Magic Alliance, shattered before the plane even touched down at their final destination. I can't help but have my spirits a little raised.
Now, I'm back in the place where I lived, and one lamb jhallosa later I'm pretty settled in. Conclusions from the journey - take the seat one row behind the reserved seats.
The Magical Alliance caught my ear first, then my eye when I turned around to see what was making the racket. The racket was being made by three very fine young gentlemen in Adidas track suits. The leader looked like a carbon copy of one of the dunderheads who used to pick on me in middle school. His right-hand crony seemed to be so stupid that blinking and walking at once must have been too hard for him... I guess he did the leader dude some wrong, as he was seated next to the window. With all the mental capacity the window-sitter could muster, admiring the views outside could literally take his breath away. The third member of the group, and the hero of the story up ahead, sported a ridiculous mohawk-mullet hybrid that would have looked dreadful in the early nineties, let alone now. I just scoffed at their barbed language, writing it off as the lads being excited before embarking on a trip to the depths of the job ladder.
Spurting idiocy apparently wasn't enough. At some point mid flight, the hero of the tale produced a bottle of alcohol. I'm not sure exactly how they distributed the grapefruit vodka or whatever the hell it was, but said hero held the empty bottle when I noticed them taking their party to the next level. Also, somehow, it was him swaying in the general direction of the toilet moments later as his comrades remained seated. As such, I guess that his brain cell didn't think it was a bad idea to down the whole thing. Soon enough, the flight attendants got the guy in check, and he was placed in the magical fenced off reserved seats. Right in front of me.
Lovely.
As The Great And Powerful Rumpy is a walking example of mild-to-average emetophobia, I spent the rest of the flight bunged up in an embryo position with my bag and coat (fuck regulations, no way is it under the seat where there's a fraction of a chance he'll barf on it somehow). Ugh. Not fun at all.
My mood was slightly improved when the boss of the pack went to speak with the fallen. At first they were exchanging bro-hugs, but soon enough it degenerated into a shouting match with the drunken dude doing his best to hit the sober one. Once again, flight attendants had to step in. The Magic Alliance, shattered before the plane even touched down at their final destination. I can't help but have my spirits a little raised.
Now, I'm back in the place where I lived, and one lamb jhallosa later I'm pretty settled in. Conclusions from the journey - take the seat one row behind the reserved seats.
10.2.13
The Update Show!
Piano!
*piano smash*
*muttered* whose idea was this?
Now, with the lamzor asdfmovie reference out of the way, I can move on to an update proper! So, how have I been? Pretty darn good, actually. I'm getting used to UKland, and working at my own pace. There are no jet skis, I'm not stuck in mud - turns out that the work I put into the method is pretty good progress. I'm not lagging behind. Currently relaxing and rebuilding energy after an intense period where I tuned up the method to perfection and made some user-friendly things for it. Working on the paper, but not overexerting myself. My supervisor, who's supposed to be very demanding, is happy. So I'm happy too.
The vagueness of my future direction got spotted when I had my progress review meeting. Thought this was a huge obstacle, and I was crushed for a few days. Then I realised that it isn't actually a problem, and I'll be okay. My supervisors have tons of stuff in need of attention, and I'm more than happy to pull up my sleeves and do the computer work... and then try to parry the biology :P eventually I'll have to delve into that too. Thing is, I don't feel competent in that department, and whatever conclusions I may draw should be taken with a huge, huge dose of reserve.
Insanity fighting - music! Found the second guitar guys for both Nakpat and Green Parrot. Smashing success! Also, bought the Fnord, it's underway now. Pedalboard should be complete soon enough!
More insanity fighting - cooking! Indians and Pakistanis are two of the three top minorities in the UK (the third nation being Poles), so I started experimenting with their spices and whipping up some curries. The butter chicken may have been beginner's luck, but it got the halal roommate seal of approval for the tastiest stuff he ever had. And it rolled from there, usually successes instead of failures. The cookbook mah amazing sis got me for Christmas is a fantastic resource of great recipes, and even the seemingly harder ones are described in great detail and are easy enough to pull off if one just follows the protocol. It's like lab work.
Rumpy presents: The potato-lentil-pea curry extravaganza lab work sheet
(I lernd hoa2bold todai. uproud)
Serves: whoa this is a lot
Reagents vel ingredients:
1. canola oil
2. 2 small onions
3. 1 tsp ginger powder
4. 1 tsp garlic powder
5. 2 tsp ground coriander
6. 1 tsp ground cumin
7. 1 tsp turmeric
8. 0.5 tsp ground cinnamon
9. 1 tsp chilli powder
10. 750 g young potatoes
11. 250 g red lentils
12. 700 g tomato passata rustica
13. 400 ml can of coconut milk
14. half a cube of chicken stock
15. 1 tsp garam masala
16. 0.5 tsp salt
17. 0.5 tsp brown cane sugar
18. 150 g green shelled peas
19. 1 tbsp coriander-in-a-tube
20. 3 tbsp lemon juice
Note:
tsp - overflowing teaspoon
tbsp - overflowing tablespoon
Procedure:
1. Hack up potatoes into small, bite-size chunks.
2. Put a bit of canola oil into a big pot and set it on medium flame so it heats up.
3. Hack up onions.
4. Dump onions into pot, stir occasionally.
5. Mix ginger powder, garlic powder, ground coriander, ground cumin, turmeric, ground cinnamon and chilli powder on a small plate to add them effortlessly later.
6. Once the onions are reasonably cooked (should take about 5 minutes) dump in the spices. Cough, sputter, wonder why there are so many spices and so few onions, stir, cough, sputter, think that you should have put in more oil, keep the uneasy mix on the hob for about a minute.
7. Dump in the hacked potatoes and lentils. Cough and sputter even more as the drastic scent of fried spices gets shifted up by the sudden air movement. Bot starts suffocating next door and accusing of mustard gas creation. Open front door, back door, window, air the thing. Stir the thing in the pot to spread the onions and spices evenly across the taters and lentils.
8. Pour in the tomato passata and coconut milk. The coconut milk is a solid coconut cream layer on top and water on the bottom. Frantically sniff can to see if the thing wasn't spoiled, read label, find a hint to shake before use as separation usually occurs. Ah, ok. Stir the mix, bring it to the boil.
9. Whip up a cup of chicken stock from the half-cube and a cup of boiling water from the kettle. Add that. Add garam masala, salt and the sugar. Throughout stir.
10. Reduce the flame. Watch Slurgi taking a teleporter disguised as an enemy pyro, using the revolver when claiming to be using the enforcer, and missing 8 shots in a row on a rather predictable demoman. Overall, just chillax, relax, max for 20 minutes. Stir occasionally.
11. Add peas, stir, simmer for another 5 minutes
12. Take off flame, add coriander-in-a-tube and lemon juice. Stir thing. Taste thing. Barely restrain self from instantly eating whole pot of thing. Fry up parathas and eat the thick, delightfully tasty goop with them.
So yeah, tune in next time for more cooking with Rumpy! Maybe, if I feel like it, that is.
Also, another thing that really, really did my mental sanity well - I weeded Fox out of my life once and for all. True, when times were good, she was a great friend. But when times were rough, she was nigh impossible to deal with (as reflected in numerous butthurt posts on this blog), and I just couldn't tune out what she was saying. As it just wasn't working, I terminated it. And all's dandy. She's too busy being adored by her "new friends" to come after me, and I'm okay with this.
Welp, that will be all for now. I need to buy me a performance hat ;) Stay tuned for more ramblings from everybody's favourite curry-devouring, fuzz-loving dissonance overlord in the future!
*piano smash*
*muttered* whose idea was this?
Now, with the lamzor asdfmovie reference out of the way, I can move on to an update proper! So, how have I been? Pretty darn good, actually. I'm getting used to UKland, and working at my own pace. There are no jet skis, I'm not stuck in mud - turns out that the work I put into the method is pretty good progress. I'm not lagging behind. Currently relaxing and rebuilding energy after an intense period where I tuned up the method to perfection and made some user-friendly things for it. Working on the paper, but not overexerting myself. My supervisor, who's supposed to be very demanding, is happy. So I'm happy too.
The vagueness of my future direction got spotted when I had my progress review meeting. Thought this was a huge obstacle, and I was crushed for a few days. Then I realised that it isn't actually a problem, and I'll be okay. My supervisors have tons of stuff in need of attention, and I'm more than happy to pull up my sleeves and do the computer work... and then try to parry the biology :P eventually I'll have to delve into that too. Thing is, I don't feel competent in that department, and whatever conclusions I may draw should be taken with a huge, huge dose of reserve.
Insanity fighting - music! Found the second guitar guys for both Nakpat and Green Parrot. Smashing success! Also, bought the Fnord, it's underway now. Pedalboard should be complete soon enough!
More insanity fighting - cooking! Indians and Pakistanis are two of the three top minorities in the UK (the third nation being Poles), so I started experimenting with their spices and whipping up some curries. The butter chicken may have been beginner's luck, but it got the halal roommate seal of approval for the tastiest stuff he ever had. And it rolled from there, usually successes instead of failures. The cookbook mah amazing sis got me for Christmas is a fantastic resource of great recipes, and even the seemingly harder ones are described in great detail and are easy enough to pull off if one just follows the protocol. It's like lab work.
Rumpy presents: The potato-lentil-pea curry extravaganza lab work sheet
(I lernd hoa2bold todai. uproud)
Serves: whoa this is a lot
Reagents vel ingredients:
1. canola oil
2. 2 small onions
3. 1 tsp ginger powder
4. 1 tsp garlic powder
5. 2 tsp ground coriander
6. 1 tsp ground cumin
7. 1 tsp turmeric
8. 0.5 tsp ground cinnamon
9. 1 tsp chilli powder
10. 750 g young potatoes
11. 250 g red lentils
12. 700 g tomato passata rustica
13. 400 ml can of coconut milk
14. half a cube of chicken stock
15. 1 tsp garam masala
16. 0.5 tsp salt
17. 0.5 tsp brown cane sugar
18. 150 g green shelled peas
19. 1 tbsp coriander-in-a-tube
20. 3 tbsp lemon juice
Note:
tsp - overflowing teaspoon
tbsp - overflowing tablespoon
Procedure:
1. Hack up potatoes into small, bite-size chunks.
2. Put a bit of canola oil into a big pot and set it on medium flame so it heats up.
3. Hack up onions.
4. Dump onions into pot, stir occasionally.
5. Mix ginger powder, garlic powder, ground coriander, ground cumin, turmeric, ground cinnamon and chilli powder on a small plate to add them effortlessly later.
6. Once the onions are reasonably cooked (should take about 5 minutes) dump in the spices. Cough, sputter, wonder why there are so many spices and so few onions, stir, cough, sputter, think that you should have put in more oil, keep the uneasy mix on the hob for about a minute.
7. Dump in the hacked potatoes and lentils. Cough and sputter even more as the drastic scent of fried spices gets shifted up by the sudden air movement. Bot starts suffocating next door and accusing of mustard gas creation. Open front door, back door, window, air the thing. Stir the thing in the pot to spread the onions and spices evenly across the taters and lentils.
8. Pour in the tomato passata and coconut milk. The coconut milk is a solid coconut cream layer on top and water on the bottom. Frantically sniff can to see if the thing wasn't spoiled, read label, find a hint to shake before use as separation usually occurs. Ah, ok. Stir the mix, bring it to the boil.
9. Whip up a cup of chicken stock from the half-cube and a cup of boiling water from the kettle. Add that. Add garam masala, salt and the sugar. Throughout stir.
10. Reduce the flame. Watch Slurgi taking a teleporter disguised as an enemy pyro, using the revolver when claiming to be using the enforcer, and missing 8 shots in a row on a rather predictable demoman. Overall, just chillax, relax, max for 20 minutes. Stir occasionally.
11. Add peas, stir, simmer for another 5 minutes
12. Take off flame, add coriander-in-a-tube and lemon juice. Stir thing. Taste thing. Barely restrain self from instantly eating whole pot of thing. Fry up parathas and eat the thick, delightfully tasty goop with them.
So yeah, tune in next time for more cooking with Rumpy! Maybe, if I feel like it, that is.
Also, another thing that really, really did my mental sanity well - I weeded Fox out of my life once and for all. True, when times were good, she was a great friend. But when times were rough, she was nigh impossible to deal with (as reflected in numerous butthurt posts on this blog), and I just couldn't tune out what she was saying. As it just wasn't working, I terminated it. And all's dandy. She's too busy being adored by her "new friends" to come after me, and I'm okay with this.
Welp, that will be all for now. I need to buy me a performance hat ;) Stay tuned for more ramblings from everybody's favourite curry-devouring, fuzz-loving dissonance overlord in the future!
7.1.13
Rumpy vs Insanity
Signing in again.
So, what's been up since then? Still fighting an uphill battle against science. Still not feel like I'm winning. Still seeing everybody else zip by on turbo jet skis or something. Still going insane.
How am I combatting the insanity? With routine trips back home for the weekend, about once every 3-4 weeks. Pricey? Not at all. Just buy tickets ahead of time from Wizzair or something. I spent my first weekend home back "on detox", constantly crying and shaking and puking from nerves. Since then it kinda got better. The world as I know it back home isn't going anywhere. Everything is still in place, and it's waiting for me if I fail here. Screw life as Plan B, if I mess up here I just get to go back to the part of the world I feel best in, in the end.
Second insanity-combatting strategy? Starting a band. I intend to get something going in the UK. Coincidentally, I split off my mellow leanings into a project named Nakpat. As such, it'd be perfect if I could create both Green Parrot and Nakpat, but we'll see what comes out... I'm pretty sure the latter won't have any trouble attracting musicians and a putative fan base.
In preparation, I took my pedals from Poland.
RUMPY PEDALBOARD OF AWESOME: Geetar -> Dunlop Crybaby 535q -> TC Electronic Polytune -> Boss OS-2 -> Devi Ever US Fuzz -> Black Arts Toneworks Fnord -> Akai Professional Phase Shifter -> Amp
Said pedalboard requires two purchases to work. I got the Polytune in my back-at-the-motherland music shop, bartering down the price a bit. Love haggling, even with shopkeepers. I still need to get my hands on a Fnord, but the pedal guy will have them back in stock in a few weeks. Hope customs won't be evil and I'll get my hands on the pedal without any issues.
So yeah, UKland still hasn't been fully tamed, and probably never will be, but what can I do. Gotta keep fighting.
So, what's been up since then? Still fighting an uphill battle against science. Still not feel like I'm winning. Still seeing everybody else zip by on turbo jet skis or something. Still going insane.
How am I combatting the insanity? With routine trips back home for the weekend, about once every 3-4 weeks. Pricey? Not at all. Just buy tickets ahead of time from Wizzair or something. I spent my first weekend home back "on detox", constantly crying and shaking and puking from nerves. Since then it kinda got better. The world as I know it back home isn't going anywhere. Everything is still in place, and it's waiting for me if I fail here. Screw life as Plan B, if I mess up here I just get to go back to the part of the world I feel best in, in the end.
Second insanity-combatting strategy? Starting a band. I intend to get something going in the UK. Coincidentally, I split off my mellow leanings into a project named Nakpat. As such, it'd be perfect if I could create both Green Parrot and Nakpat, but we'll see what comes out... I'm pretty sure the latter won't have any trouble attracting musicians and a putative fan base.
In preparation, I took my pedals from Poland.
RUMPY PEDALBOARD OF AWESOME: Geetar -> Dunlop Crybaby 535q -> TC Electronic Polytune -> Boss OS-2 -> Devi Ever US Fuzz -> Black Arts Toneworks Fnord -> Akai Professional Phase Shifter -> Amp
Said pedalboard requires two purchases to work. I got the Polytune in my back-at-the-motherland music shop, bartering down the price a bit. Love haggling, even with shopkeepers. I still need to get my hands on a Fnord, but the pedal guy will have them back in stock in a few weeks. Hope customs won't be evil and I'll get my hands on the pedal without any issues.
So yeah, UKland still hasn't been fully tamed, and probably never will be, but what can I do. Gotta keep fighting.
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