Ghosts and Pies

Here's a secret.

I've been sending Yasaman messages on Facebook for the past month now. I know, it's screwed up. She's not reading them. But it makes me feel better. Whenever I get caught up with remembering her, I just send her a message of my musings, and I don't know, it kind of makes it all a little easier. Here's the one I wrote tonight:

Is it weird that I pretend that you read these? I know you're not, but it makes me feel so much better to even pretend that you're sitting in front of a computer somewhere, checking your messages. I also still like to think of you as a ghost. I know it's just a fucked up self defense against sadness mechanism, and it completely goes against everything I believe in, but I like it. You're just off somewhere checking out new things, making new ghost friends, meeting the ghosts of all these famous people and whatever. It's a nice thought, and it doesn't make me sad. I feel this kind of happiness, or peace, at the thought of you still hanging around.

I know it's just a trick. I know, I know that you're in that little cemetery in Port Coquitlam, in that tiny coffin under the cold, hard ground. I know your body is decaying and falling apart, and those great big eyes of yours are closed forever, but let's pretend for awhile that somewhere out there, you're still laughing.

So I've pretty much been imagining her as a ghost for awhile. Yes, I know this is totally contradictory to what I believe, and I'm not changing those beliefs in any way at all just because of this tragedy. That wouldn't be right. But it really is nice to think of her wandering the world, and seeing things she could never have seen when she was alive. I was toying with the idea of drawing a comic about it, but I don't know. The Yasaman I remember is from 7 years ago, and I'm sure she changed in that time. I don't want to draw anything that would be inaccurate as to the way she was, and offend her friends and family or anything. I was thinking of doing something sans dialogue. I've seen a few comics that have no words in them at all, and I think they're really interesting, because then the reader has to interpret facial expressions and body language to figure out that they're saying, and you can also put your own little twist on things. It would be something short, maybe just a page or two and bittersweet. Hm. Short and bittersweet. Pretty much just described Yasaman there, haha.

Ah, life goes on. Went to a fabulous family potluck tonight. There was pasta salad, handmade tofu sushi, mini quiche, drummettes, deviled eggs, coleslaw and barbecued salmon. For dessert, we all enjoyed chocolate mousse, and a blueberry cream pie made by yours truly. Now, call my conceited, but I'm going to go ahead and say I made the best thing there. Really, I'm master the art of these vanilla cream pies. First it was coconut cream, then banana, and now blueberry? What could possibly be next? Actually, these pies are pretty simple to make.

INGREDIENTS

• 1/4 cup cornstarch
• 2/3 cups sugar
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 1/2 cups milk
• 5 large egg yolks
• 2-3 tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 1/2 tap vanilla

1. Mix together cornstarch, sugar and salt in a large saucepan. Gradually whisk in milk, and whisk in the egg yolks until no yellow streaks remain.
   
2. Bring to a sputtering simmer over low heat, constantly stirring. Remove from heat and whisk mixture until smooth.
3. Return to heat and let mixture reach a sputtering simmer once more, and let cook for 1 minute, constantly stirring.
   
4. Remove from heat and add in unsalted butter and vanilla, whisking thoroughly until everything is evenly mixed in and mixture is smooth. Spoon directly into prepared pie shell. To set, chill for 2-3 hours.

The key to this pie is whisking. In the original recipe, it says to stir the mixture with a heatproof rubber spatula, but I had to skip that part since my spatula is not heatproof and started to melt an itty bit (don't worry, folks, it didn't melt into the cream mixture). So I whisked it the entire time, and it turned out much, much smoother than the other times I tried this. Also, the great thing about this pie is that it's incredibly accommodating. For example, if you want to make a coconut cream pie, just dumb in a load of shredded coconut before pouring the mix into the pie shell. For my banana cream pie, I did one layer of cream, on layer of sliced bananas, and then another layer of cream and a final layer of bananas on top, and then covered the entire thing in homemade, sweetened whipped cream. For this blueberry one, I poured the cream into the pie shell, and then dotted the entire top with whole blueberries, and had a bowl of sweetened whipped cream on the side for people to use as they pleased. Originally it was supposed to be raspberries, but for some reason Safeway doesn't sell raspberries. But the blueberries were a much better idea. Sometimes the sweetness of raspberries can be a little too sharp, and often borders on bitter. The blueberries were a much more subdued sweetness that went better with what I wanted the pie to taste like. And since you've been good enough to read this far, I'll even give you the whipped cream recipe.

INGREDIENTS

• 1 cup heavy cream
• 2 tsp sugar, icing sugar or honey
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• a dash of cream of tartar

1. Combine all ingredients in a large, chilled metal bowl and blend with electric mixer on high speed until at ideal consistency.

The cream of tartar was a last minute addition by myself, so if you don't have any lying around you don't have to go buy some just for this recipe. I wanted a thicker whipped cream, and I knew that cream of tartar was a binding agent, so I thought it would help. Honestly, I'm not sure if it did help at all, but it was the thickest whipped cream I've ever tasted, and it didn't melt or become watery at all, so I'm going to stick with my new plan.

Unfortunately, I have to wake up at a respectable hour and cart myself off to work, so goodnight. Dream of bittersweet ghosts and blueberry cream pies.

Afternoon Tea Minus The Tea

Too busy to blog. But how is that possible, you ask? Everyone knows I have no life! To clarify, I have been too busy doing nothing to blog. And playing Fallout. Yeah, yeah, it's a sorry excuse.

I should be getting ready for work right now, so let me update really quickly. I made my own bread, my dad's birthday dinner was amazing (homemade lasagna and banana cream pie a la ME), Auntie Sue is in town and we've seen each other a bunch, Peter turned 16 and my dad gave him our stupid 1980 Mercedes as a present, Max is almost finished school, I'm now excited about my own schooling starting in September, and tomorrow we're having a big family potluck at my ma's house. Fuck. Yes. I love potlucks. I hope everyone brings something, so I can just be fat and eat and eat. I myself am making a vanilla cream pie, and dotting the top with fresh, whole raspberries. I think I've found my niche (in pies).

The weather is being tres bizarre lately. Yesterday was just about the crappiest day you could ever imagine, and it actually ended up snowing. My dad said it snowed again last night, because when he woke up there was a fine dusting of snow over everything. But now it's glorious outside, so the sun melted it all away. I, of course, slept until noon, so I missed out on all the early morning snow action. April is always a pretty weird month here, but don't despair, my kidlets. May is on it's way and the sun is going to be a permanent guest.

Debating on whether or not I should eat something (anything) before I head off to work. There are some delectable ginger cookies downstairs that I think I'm going to devour for my breakfast at 2:11 in the afternoon. It's too late for brunch, I think, so let's just say I'm having afternoon tea minus the tea. Lovely day to you all, and a proper entry soon.

Dungeness Crab and Mascarpone Risotto

It's very late right now, and I have to get up in 6 hours, BUT I simply have to tell you about the most fabulous meal I that I had the pleasure of gorging myself on tonight.

To give you a bit of background, my Auntie Sue is in town for 2 weeks. She's been sober for 7 months now and we're all so immensely proud, so this trip is kind of just celebrating how great she is. I spent one day of just me and her walking down Commercial Drive, which is her favourite place in Vancouver. I absolutely love walking around with her because she'll just talk to anybody. Everybody who meets her eye gets a smile and a "Hey, how ya doing?"

There are tons of great shops up and down Commercial, but to my shame I have only been in a handful of them, even though I've been frequenting the area ever since I started dating Max. Sue will just walk into any old place and immediately strike up a conversation with the staff, and most times will meet the owner of the place and lavish them with compliments. Both times that she has been out and gone around Commercial Drive with me, we've ended up eating in places that I walk by all the time, but have never gone it. The first time it was this great place called Tony's Deli, where we had the most delicious spaghetti and meatballs for lunch. This time it was a Vietnamese restaurant called Red Pagoda. I'll admit, I did feel like I was being unfaithful to my favourite Vietnamese restaurant, Bao Chau. But I have to say, the food at this place was great, and only $2 more expensive than my other place. I had what I always get: bún thịt nướng, which is rice vermicelli served with some kind of meat (typically pork or lemongrass chicken) and served on top of mixed vegetables (cucumber, carrot and bean sprouts), which I doused with delicious fish sauce (which tastes better than it sounds). At this place, though, they sprinkled roasted peanuts on top of the dish, and what a difference it made. The spring rolls were also fabulous, and somehow not oily at all.

Don't worry, Bao Chau, I still love you.

One thing that comes from being poor is the ability to seek out the greatest deals in the city. My mother is more than pro at this. Every special event, every discounted opera ticket, every cheap-yet-amazing restaurant cannot escape her. She found out about JJ's a couple of months ago. JJ's is the restaurant at the VCC downtown college, and it is run and staffed by students in their Culinary Arts program. It's only open from 5:30 to 7:30, and has a fixed menu with 4 choices in each category (Appetizers, Entrees and Desserts).

My meal was... fucking superb, to put it lightly. Dungeness crab and mascarpone risotto to start, followed by oven roasted duck, with duck confit and herbed gnocchi, and red velvet cake with raspberry coulis and candied pecans for dessert. I died and went to heaven multiple times.

It was just such a great meal, the restaurant itself was nice looking, the staff was really friendly, and I shit you not, they played a song from Fallout. This place is amazing. Also, Auntie Sue, being the true gourmet that she is (gour·met/gôrˈmā/Noun1. A connoisseur of good food; a person with a discerning palate) asked our waitress if we could speak to the head chef to compliment him and talk shop. He came over with this kind of wary look on his face, and then we unleashed the full fury of our amazement. He had this great Scottish accent and was really nice. We left pleasantly full and very pleased. Overall, this was one of the nicest meals that I've ever had, it worked out to be about $25 per person. In a restaurant that matched the caliber of the food, we would maybe have been able to afford the entree for that much. So if you're poor and appreciate fine food, seriously head on over to JJ's, but you better make a reservation because it was a full house tonight. Two women even got turned away because there was going to be literally no room for them.

Okay, I should really stop salivating all over the keyboard. I'll talk about non-food things. My room is finally painted, and I'm so happy because painting gets really old after awhile. Tomorrow the shelves will go up, and then everything can FINALLY be organized.

I should be sleeping, but I just found a great webcomic called String Theory. Totally check it out. Goddamnit, I'm going to be tired tomorrow. But what else is new?

Spring!

It's finally Spring. I don't even mind the rain that everyone was griping about yesterday. It can rain as much as it likes now, because as long as it's Spring I don't really care.

My favourite part of Spring has always been the cherry blossom trees. Their were tons of them in the neighbourhood I grew up in. They lined the streets, and we would wear the flowers in our hair and shake the trees until we stood in a shower of petals. They just bring back all these sweet memories of my carefree childhood, tumbling about in the woods and trails, rolling down grassy hills, catching bugs and climbing trees. Yesterday, I was walking to Max's house, and his entire street was lined with blossoming trees. I don't think they were the same kind, though, but it had the same effect. Just this feeling of joy. And the smell was heavenly too, so I'm thinking they were some kind of apple blossom.

Rachel's off to Europe now, and I am so so jealous. I wish I could just leave and go on a cool adventure. But I have a myriad of responsibilities: school in the Fall that I need to save up for, rent to pay, a wedding to plan... Yeah, that's it actually. I've decided, though, that once I'm done my two year program at Langara, I am going to go on my own solo trip to Europe, as a treat. Armed with my new-found art knowledge, I will traverse the continent in search of adventure!

Sad Dreams and The Waldorf Hotel

I had a dream that my mother died, and it was... just so awful, as you can probably imagine.

It felt so real, and the entire dream I was just crying and crying. Someone played a recording of her voice and I lost it. What was funny though was that throughout the entire dream, I was convinced that it wasn't true, that I had to be dreaming. Really. There were points where I was like "Lisa, that's stupid. Stop pretending and face the music." and others where I was like "No no NO, this is a dream, this has to be a dream." Thankfully it was.

Thinking back though, there were a number of things that made it obvious that I was dreaming. For one, I was in high school again, haha. Second, they were displaying a picture of my mum that is not a picture that exists in real life. There were a bunch of other smaller things too that should have made it very obvious, and when I woke up it took me a few minutes to even remember that I had had that dream and feel relieved.

I went to a really fun place last night with my good friend Chiara, called The Waldorf Hotel. It's like a club for hipsters, really. And it was sooo coooool. My makeup was dope, and I even drank. Yes, actual alcohol, people. It always, always burns my throat on the way down though, so I will not be making it a habit. But it was fun to feel like an adult.

The theme for the night was old Italian music, haha. Like, kind of weird 60s music sung in Italian. There was also a live band, and a girl who did this weird writhing-around-on-the-floor-dance-while-flipping-her-hair in a skin-tight flesh-toned leotard. There were hipsters, and all the hipster girls had the cutest outfits on! They're all like, size 4 to size 0 though, so nothing would have fit me. I think I looked nice. I wore my fitting black dress with the rainbow stripes, and had dark lipstick on and orange eyeshadow. We mostly just talked and drank, and hung around outside with Chiara's boyfriend, Dan, who is one of the bouncers there. We showed her friend Colin how to light a cigarette off of one of the big heat lamps they had outside. I talked to a very nice drunk girl who complimented my tights and told me that I was very cute. Self esteem!

I am definitely going to go back there, hopefully with Chiara again because she gets in for free, haha. Hell, maybe I'll even dance one time. Chiara said she goes with Brianna and Matt a lot, and they're both pretty cool. I'm going to need more cool outfits to wear though.

Funny thing is, I almost didn't go. Chiara texted me early in the day and asked if I'd like to be her date. I said yes, but was so nervous about it that I almost cancelled. I was worried that I would bore her, I was worried that I would be bored, I was worried about going to a new place, I was worried about looking fat.... Just overall worried. Max told me it was the right thing to do though. I need to get out more and try new things. I am super glad I did go, because otherwise I would have stayed home and played Fallout all night (I still did that, haha). I'm liking this new person I'm becoming. She's less anxious and tries new things, and it's fun.

Okay! Going to actually clean my house today! If I don't, I'm going to... er... punch myself? I don't know, but I am going to get this shit DONE.

The Bones Of An Idol

The funeral was... one of the hardest things I have had to endure to date.

The night before, I was so nervous. I knew it was going to be hard, I knew I was going to cry, and I almost didn't go. But I would have beat myself up forever if I hadn't.

Getting there was a nightmare. The group with the info on Facebook only had the address for the cemetery, not the funeral home. We (Tanis, my dad and I) drove around like mad trying to find it, and when we finally did I almost couldn't walk to the door. My legs were so shaky with nerves and relief, every step required concentration.

I lasted for about 5 minutes in the funeral home lobby before I started crying. Seeing her friends cry was sad, but seeing her family cry was harder, because they just let it all out. Actually, what really got to me was the music that was playing. All classical, and just the most heartbreaking songs that you could think of. They are not allowed to play music like that at my funeral.

I just felt really numb and weird, like it was all a dream. We filed into the funeral parlor, and there was her casket on this little gurney-type thing. I took solace in the fact that there were so many people there, easily over a hundred. My mum has always said that the sheer number of people that came to her own mother's funeral had really touched her heart.

The casket was maybe 5-6 feet away from me, and all I could think about was how small the stupid thing was. She had been maybe 5 feet tall, and so slender. My necrophobia was tugging at me too, and I felt this horrified sensation creeping over me, knowing that Yasaman was in there, and that she was dead dead dead.

The funeral director was a bumbling idiot. Not only did he pronounce her last name wrong twice, he made a joke about his own sister. "This poem is about sister's. Well, maybe not my sister since she's not very nice, haha." That's great, asshole. Laugh it up to the 9 year old boy who just lost his. He did say one thing that I agreed with though. "Young people today tend to try and distance themselves from death." He said this in relation to the viewing that was to follow.

I knew the viewing was going to be hard. Again, thank you necrophobia, which has plagued me for years. I think I can trace it back to that funeral I was forced to attend when I was 15. Anyway, standing in line to look at Yasaman was really fucked up. I just wanted to scream, run, pull my hair, cry, anything. At one point I could just see the top of her head from where I was standing, and I almost left. But I gave myself a mental slap and steeled myself.

She looked... not like Yasaman. I mean, it was obviously her, despite how much I wished it wasn't, but it wasn't the same. I actually remembered a line from one of my favourite Radiolab shows, about the Afterlife. Robert Krulwich said "I saw my mom just before she died and just after she died, and I thought the myself 'There's a real difference here.' It's beyond pallor. It's a very noticeable, deep absence of something." And that's all I could think about. When I first heard him say that I thought "Well, no shit." But after seeing Yasaman, I get it, and it's feels like it's so much deeper and complex than just a lack of life. Now, I am most certainly not making the argument for souls here. It's just... I don't know how to describe it. I knew this was Yasaman, but at the same time my brain was telling me that it wasn't. Who knows. Maybe I was just in shock.

I'd written a letter to her, as pathetic as that sounds, to leave in her casket with her. Again, I know that's dumb. She isn't going to read it. But funerals and the rituals we go through aren't for the benefit of the dead, they're for the benefit of the living. It made me feel better to know that there was going to be something from me in that casket with her. As I reached in to place the letter by her, I was seized with this sudden longing to touch her hand, just to make one last connection. I was too scared though. It was more than I could bear being that close to her. I'm glad I didn't touch her though. She would have been cold, and that would have made me lose it.

She didn't look like she was asleep. She looked dead. Something happens to your face when you die, and it goes all slack. I guess that's because your muscles aren't holding everything up any more. She just looked all puffy and weird, and I remember noticing that her skin had to much makeup on it, and she had pink lipstick on, which is really bugging me because I know Yasaman would not have been a fan. I wish it had been red. These things don't matter, but it's still bugging me. Also, I could see a cut on her hand, from the accident, and it made me feel so sick. Since I was one of the first people to approach the casket for the viewing, I also had the pleasure of watching every single person walk out after they saw her, some inconsolable. A few aunts had to be half carried out. One guy about my age was doubled over, choking out these heart wrenching sobs. There were two little kids who came out with their mom, just crying and crying.

I saw and talked to Elmira properly for the first time since high school, and that was nice, but what a reunion. I think she's taking this a lot harder than I am. She drove Tanis and I to the burial site (I'm sorry Tanis, I was only dimly aware of you for the entire funeral. I was just so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I kept forgetting you were there), which was nice.

Yasaman's friends carried her casket over to the whole that had been dug for her, and I just remember thinking about how fucked up they must feel. It rained a little bit, which I felt was appropriate, and the funeral director said a few more rambling things. Relatives tossed sand on the casket that was piled high with white and purple flowers, and I was really glad that I wasn't able to watch her family throw their handfuls of dirt (there was a much taller person in my way), because it just would have been too much to see her little brother like that. I did see a few aunts and uncles, however, and the images are burned into my brain. One uncle gently placed his little handful on the polished wood lid, and then bent down to gently kiss it. An aunt held her handful to her lips, whispering something, and then tossed it without even looking, this pained look on her face. I wanted to go up and touch the casket after too, but again, I couldn't make myself do it.

For some reason, everybody had to leave before the funeral crew came and buried her. Like, literally leave the cemetery. I thought that was bullshit. Her friends all left, I knew they were going to a wake/get-shitfaced-because-this-hurts-too-much thing at a local bar, but her family stayed. Elmira's family was close friends with Yasaman's, and since she was our ride out of there, Tanis and I stuck around while everyone lost it. They were moaning and wailing, and at one point Yasaman's mum (who I learned was dying from cancer) let out this crying then started moaning and half-screaming in Persian. Elmira immediately burst into tears, and I asked her what she'd said. "You won't be alone long, I'll be with you soon." was basically it. Her voice is going to stay with me forever.

It was over. Tanis and I went to our houses to change, and then we went shopping, of all things. We both commented on how weird time felt, like the funeral was a million years ago when in reality we had been there only a few hours ago. And now here I am, a week after the funeral and it still feels that way. It hasn't even been a month since she died, but it feels like longer. But from now on, Yasaman's death is going to serve as my motivation for everything. I am going to try harder, I am going to do more, I am going to be better.

Tanis, I want to thank you for the way you quietly put your arm around me when I started sobbing in the lobby. I don't like having people I'm close with seeing me cry, because I want you to all know that I am stronger than that, but thank you for not saying anything and just standing with me. Thank you for going through that whole ordeal with me. You're a real bro. Also, I'm sorry that I can't express my feelings like a normal human being, and I struggle with the "L" word so much. Just because I don't say it doesn't mean it isn't there.

I promise I will begin writing again, mostly because I miss it, but also because I just noticed that I have a new follower. Thank you, stranger, for paying any interest in the things I write. It means an awful lot to me.

Spring Is Coming, And We Will Be Alright

Yasman's funeral is tomorrow. I had a good, long cry today, so hopefully I won't break down during the ceremony, but I'm not making myself any promises.

These are the tests that we have to endure in life, and because of them we will be stronger.