Lifestyle
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This is more of a recent “hack”. I don’t start with the oats; instead, I pick my frozen “fruits of the day” from the freezer. I have strawberries, cherries, and blueberries. Not a lot, about 1/5 of a cup is enough. Microwave for 30 seconds (full power), stir lightly, then microwave for 30 more seconds. They come out soft and a bit slushy, which works well here.
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Rolled oats (some are better than others; don’t use those small ‘meal size’ sealed packs, they usually come with additives that give them a weird saw-dust flavor). I’m currently enjoying Bob’s Red Mill “just oats” with apparently more protein. I usually use 3 to 4 tablespoons per cup. If I do fruits, like in the first step, I cover them completely with oats.
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My espresso machine dispenses hot water at a perfect temperature for tea (70 Celsius, more or less 150 F), which also works well for the oats. The trick here is to fill it just under the oats, so it doesn’t cover them completely (otherwise you end up having oats “soup”). I let it sit for a minute as I make my coffee in a separate cup. By the time I’m done with the coffee (about a minute, give or take), the oats will have absorbed the water, and I can stir them lightly.
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Throw in golden raisins (black ones are too sweet in my opinion) to taste, about two teaspoons (can always add more later). This gives it all the sweetness I need.
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Stir well again and add a handful of almonds (roasted but not salted) on top. Stir again.
About living in Madhattan
Reading through my journal, last year today was when we were officially cleared to move into our apartment. Most of you who read this probably wouldn’t understand what the big deal is, but if you’ve been accepted into a co-op in Manhattan before, you’d be saying, “Why in hell would you put yourself in such a situation?” The answer is even more of the “huh??” kind: I didn’t know what I was getting us into.
Moving is always crazy, but in NYC, it’s pushed to another level. You can’t even look for apartments until about a month before you move, because no one would take you seriously. Apartments are sold within a month to 10-day period, anything older than that means something’s wrong, and then no one wants the place.
So while we eyed this apartment about three months before the move, nothing really moved until about a month before the move itself. And then it was time to get approved. I won’t get into the whole process, but I will say it involved all kinds of bank statements (all must be notarized by a third party), credit statements, official notice of employment, saving accounts, and a bunch of forms to sign that include weird things like the notion that you must have rugs at the place and that you are not allowed into certain part of the building. Everything revolving around these agreements means you also pay more money to have the board look over the papers, and if the move happens to be on a weekend, you’d pay a fine, so you must take off from work. There was even an interview, the kind I’d expect to have when I look for a job, though that part was fun.
This would maybe be normal if we were buying the place, but we were just looking to rent. And the biggest kick in the nuts was the fact that in NYC you can’t rent (sublet, legally speaking, though it would be rent anywhere else) an apartment in a co-op building for more than two years unless special arrangements are made. Why? I don’t know. I still didn’t fully get a satisfactory answer to this, but it seems to be more like a city-wide custom than anything else. So one more year in this place, and then (supposedly) we will be looking for a new place.
I like living in the city, and I love this apartment. I love the neighborhood. We managed to find a place in Manhattan that is quiet enough to recognize the birds by sound and neighbors who are kind and quiet and don’t smoke right outside of your kitchen door when you cook.
If you haven’t caught on yet, you have to be a little nuts and adopt a lifestyle to live here.
To start with the obvious, I don’t think you can have kids and live here unless you make more than a 6-digit salary. Way more. Then, you don’t really have a good quality of life unless you lucked out somehow (as we did). There’s always the constant noise of sirens, helicopters, horns, and people yelling (at each other, their phones, other cars, you, whatever). The filth is everywhere: on the streets, rolling in the wind, in the subways (causing fires on tracks and delays), on the sidewalks when you zig-zag your way around dog-made mines left by their generous owners. Homelessness is a constant problem, especially in the winter, and some of these folks are dangerously mentally unstable (the kind that scream at you at the top of their lungs about Jesus and the devil when you take a subway ride). You can’t live here and not be affected by something, somehow. And I’ve been here for over a decade.
Still, or perhaps because of this, somehow it all works out. The commute to work is impossibly good and lets me not worry about taking a quick power nap throughout the day. I find and go out with awesome people who are all around me, who would require me to drive far and long anywhere else. The contrast between having the city available to you on one hand and the beauty of the parks on the other is unmatched. You learn to appreciate the quiet moments and the nice people here so much more because they are few and far between. It’s an experience that, I think, would be good for everyone to go through, at least for a limited time.
I don’t know that I’ll stay in the city forever. Perhaps I’ll find myself at a bigger house in the suburbs sometime soon, perhaps also behind a steering wheel (I haven’t owned a car in a very long time). For now though… I’m still here.
Took the bus to NJ today to see a new location for work. GW Bridge Terminal. 📷
Things I want to do this year
I’m not big into New Year’s resolutions, but there are a few things I want to start doing again. The first things I’m going to list won’t surprise anyone: I want to work less and spend more time on things I enjoy, and I want to be more physically active.
Over my life, especially the last 10 years or so, I stopped and then picked up jogging time and time again. The last time I picked it up was after I saw a cardiologist half a year ago. It’s nothing too bad; actually, it was better than I expected. But for me, a person who used to be more active, it was a reminder to work on my body and stay in shape.
I achieved my goal back then (running up the street without stopping), but I stopped soon after, for no particular reason. Winter came, and with it, the lack of motivation to be outside in sub-freezing temperatures. I used to run in this weather fine, and folks like Eric (who seemed to moved his blog? Hmm…) make me jealous, but in a good way. There’s also my partner River, who I affectionately call Gastone at times (they can eat six eggs in one breakfast, and it all seems to go directly to their biceps), who makes me feel guilty for not using my bedroom gym more often, again - in a good way.h
The other challenge I have is sleep. I’m a self-diagnosed chronic insomniac. I usually don’t sleep more than 6 hours, and I have two bad nights a week, averaging about 4 hours. While sleep hygiene and a consistent sleeping schedule are not as helpful to me as they would be to other folk, they do help. My goal is to be asleep on the same day I woke up - that is, not after midnight. I can sometimes fix sleep deprivation with naps, but work pressure keeps my brain occupied, even if they don’t message me with some new emergency. I think that if I manage to hold on for a week with the above condition, things will get back to normal-ish. Hopefully.
Another thing I want to do is to get more into music. I got a keyboard last month, and I want to learn how to use a DAW (Digital Audio Workstation, aka the software musicians use to edit and create tracks) to start playing with things. I’m basically brand new to all of this, so I’m learning to read music sheets from scratch, and it’s slow, but it’s going.
Then finally - and this might sound weird - I want to see if I can reach out to younger folks and get them interested in non-cloud technology. This is vague, I know. I see how everyone is dependent on their phones and big tech companies, especially during the AI age we live in, and get lost in it, often spending an arm and a leg on services they don’t really need. I used to teach at some point in my life, and helping out with tech is something I enjoy, so there’s that. Again, not sure how to do that. It’s a big project, and I get a mad rash whenever I touch TikTok or whatever, so it’s challenging.
One thing I managed not to compromise on recently is cooking at home and watching my diet a bit more. Maybe it’s easier for me to do because I already enjoy vegetables, but I took it to the next level after I got my Vitemix. Here’s breakfast with some homemade hummus:
My morning oats recipe and the carrot conspiracy
I’ve been enjoying oats for breakfast for the last week or so. It’s an old habit I’m picking up again. I’m not a big eater, and I usually skip breakfast altogether (just coffee, then I eat a snack and go straight for lunch), but as I’m starting to exercise again (very slowly), I’m getting hungry again, and this is good and quick.
First, I want to share how I make my oats; then further down you can read my grumbles about what went wrong this morning and why. There’s a hidden tip in there..! So hit click and sub… err.. sorry, I’ve been watching too many YouTube flicks. Anyway! Oats!
Here’s how I make my oats in the morning:
So, what went wrong this morning?
Today specifically, I wanted to try Mango in my oats. I had a pack of frozen mango for a while. Well, as it turns out, it wasn’t really Mango, it was a Mango mix, which is basically more like “there’s a lot of crap in here, but you may find a piece of mango here and there”. I wouldn’t have gotten a mix if I’d known it was a mix, but my brain saw the bag’s yellowish mango color and the word Mango in bold, and that was it. Take a look, wouldn’t you miss it if you don’t read it carefully? Marketing people: 1, JTR: 0. Well played, guys…
What they don’t tell you is how much of the other crap is in there versus the actual thing you want, in this case, mango. Of course they added carrots. Carrots are everywhere. It’s the main ingredient in my stir fry mix, it finds its way to my trail mix, and when I get frozen vegetables to add to a soup or a quick salad, they take over the whole thing; I might as well make a carrot soup. There are so many carrots everywhere, which is why I started hating carrots years ago. I’m trying to slowly recover, but boy, these mixes make it difficult. I guess carrots are much cheaper than mangoes.
Also, since I’m giving you my recipe for quick oats: pumpkin seeds, or any seeds or nuts for that matter, you need to add on the top of the oats. You don’t want them to absorb water; they get mushy and lose their crunch and some of the flavor with it.
Enjoy your oats! And be careful of the carrots conspiracy.
Breakfast from earlier. Oats, strawberries, almonds, and some golden raisins for sweetnes. Trying out somw new-old photo apps I haven’t used it a while.
You know what, I like that I’m bald. I can always joke with other folks at work (“Are you sure you want to make this a regular meeting? You’ll end up like me!” - at which point I point my head and get a laugh or two).
If there was any period in my life when someone judged me for being bald (say, a potential date) then screw it, I didn’t need them anyway. It’s a low-level “no shitty people” filter in that regard, kind of like being short (which is another thing).
It’s easy to take care of and it’s cheap. It’s cooler in the summer, but easy enough to warm up in the winter (I love beanies and hoodies). My nieces love petting my head after I shave it, a way of saying hello to Uncle JTR. I think it makes the beard and mustache stand out more, and when I wear my leather jacket, it makes me a bit more of a badass on the outside (on the inside I’m always nice of course)
I think I started balding in my 20s, after the army. My mom was worried and took me to a “hair doctor,” who showed me diagrams of how I would look in a year, 3 years, 5 years… I looked, and I remember I just didn’t care, something I guess he wasn’t really used to. Just a part of me that I always accepted.
Coffee, sex, and weirdos
I had a dream that I was opening up a coffee store in the morning. There were a lot of customers already inside the cafe, which had very white walls, two floors, and plenty of light. They were all waiting (very patiently) for me to open the bar. One of the women noted that I work alone and dictated a large order of six drinks for her and her friends. I still remember one of those was a Mocchiato.
This dream doesn’t surprise me. While for many people college highlighted an exotic time in their lives, for me it was working at Starbucks in New Jersey in my 20s.
I was back in the US after finishing serving in the Israeli army with a fresh Green Card. I was living at home, and my mom was a dedicated coffee drinker who fell in love with Starbucks, and we had a neighborhood store within walking distance from us. She was a regular and she knew how to push things, and the manager was one of those folks with a natural warm smile on his face. That and the fact that Starbucks provided health insurance for part-timers meant it didn’t take much time for me to start working there.
Back then, Starbucks was still that “third place,” especially in those neighborhood stores. We had our regulars, especially during closing shifts, which were calmer. It was also when I worked with the more interesting people I remember, and, to be frank, attractive ones. I developed a series of mini-crushes toward some of our shift supervisors, especially the ones that turned out to be weird, as if by a magnet. There was a tall beatiful one who had a natural punk-goth look who ended up being a mortician (she went to a school and everything). There was another that actually had a side gig working as a model for a beer company, doing a couple of commercials in a magazine.
My favorite was a scrawny, quiet, skinny girl who was prone to what I know today were panic attacks. She always took the closing shift, and always worked with her best friend, who was also the first transwoman I’ve met. As I learned after a couple of weeks working with them, she was also her roommate. That skinny weird girl, whom I’m going to call Alice here, was what you can maybe call my first “girlfriend.” I’ve dated girls before, but it was because I was supposed to and because I was worried I’m going to die a virgin, as many guys do once they reach their 20s without having sex. Alice and I clicked and became friends first, and somehow I got accepted into her weird anxious lifestyle, enough for her to trust me to touch her one evening, offering a massage.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I really didn’t think about having sex with her at the time. We worked a hard shift together, she was in a bad mood, and her body was aching all over. She had several surgeries, and there was a part of her skeleton that was metal (I forget which). Since she was kind to me all that time, I just offered it once she got a chance to sit in the back, sighing in agony and straightening her neck. I don’t think she thought much about it back then either; she just accepted the offer while her tall roommate/friend and apparently guardian was watching us (OK - me) suspiciously, occupying the bar in case someone came in.
Things came naturally after that, and we became affectionate. She had me follow her home after one of our shifts, and I’m going to end the story here in case your kids are watching over your shoulder, but you can keep your imaginations going.
The point I think I’m trying to make here is that she was the first person I remember mutually clicking with mentally and later physically1. In my 40s, I can nod and say “of course,” having only been able to maintain relationships with alternative folks from different walks of life (and failing measurably at whatever normal bf/gf relationships dared sneaking into my world). The bond between these “alternative” folks, as I call them here, sex, and coffeeshops (and books, but that’s a different story) is something that still exists strongly to this day, even though I’m sure I’m far from being the only person who is attracted to their barista.
For a long time, my ideal workplace has been working in a coffee shop behind the bar, even owning one. I had the idea of opening a place called “Insomnia Cafe”, where I and like-minded folks (the “alternatives”) would operate a coffee shop from dusk till dawn, minus the death and the crosses (vampires welcome, of course). A place that will always allow people to work on their laptops, which was one of my favorite things to do. I went as far as thinking of offering “membership” and even a crashpad - a place for people to crash and sleep for a few hours if they need to - and talked to my sister about it. I don’t know that I’m still up for those late-night/early-morning shifts, but the idea of having a cafe like that is still something that comes up now and then.
Well.
It’s time for me to take my empty coffee mug to the kitchen and chisel away at some work projects. But before I go, I want to say that if you’re one of these people I mentioned and you want to get in touch, please do. I’d love to hear from you. Some folks reached out by email after I wrote similar posts, and it’s always been great to write back. I know some of you are on the fence, or not sure what to say, or you’re not sure you want to, and that’s OK also. I’d like to think this corner of the web is a nice safe place for us weirdos.
Have a good day, and enjoy your coffee or beverage of choice.
Footnotes
1 : to be honest, she wasn’t the first weird person that liked me, but she was the first one where things were mutual. There was another person in highschool, an outcast who stood out, but I was too dumb and naaive to let myself just be myself. Years and years alter I’m still kicking myself for this.
Let's talk Soap
So, soap. No, I’m not talking about an Emacs package (though, of course, it exists) or some fancy IT tool, but actual soap - the kind you use in the shower.
I’ve been on a search for a good soap for years. I’ve found a couple that I like more and a few like less, but so far I don’t have one. Maybe it’s because different soaps are good for different things: in my case, I use one soap for my face and scalp (I’m a bald dude) and another for everything else.
I prefer gentler soaps that smell “manly.” I usually stay away from all the man-woman branding stuff as much as I can, but generally speaking, I prefer the “manly” scents over the feminine ones. If I had to point toward a scent I like, I’d point to lavender (which I also like in my Earl Grey, which makes it in a London Fog latte, one of my favorites, but I digress).
My current go-to is Everyone (for everybody) soap, but it’s mostly autopilot. At the moment I’m actually using some of the generic Dove men’s soaps, before I try something else. My neighborhood pharmacy carries a few different brands, so I have more experimentation to do.
I mentioned earlier that I use a different soap for my face and scalp, and for that, I usually use CeraVe stuff. At some point in the past, I got their face lotion, liked it, and stayed with it - and from there I continued with their soaps. I’ve read in a couple of places that shampoos are good for the scalp (that’s what they’re meant for), and I use them now and then, but nothing really sticks.
Another word about body soaps: I’m not sure if I prefer liquid in one of those plastic bottles or a bar. The liquid is convenient, but I have to keep getting more. A bar is usually more concentrated (and can have a stronger scent), and I like that I can keep it in one hand, or just scrape some against a body brush for rough skin, like on the feet - but then you have one hand, and besides it always slides away and fall as if it has it obays its own gravity rules. Weird.
So that’s where I am with soap. What about you? Would you mind sharing?
Overinformation
I wanted to try the fake eggs (Just Eggs), so I did, and well… They taste like putty. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. There are so many ingredients with weird chemicals in them! What the hell am I eating anyway? I started to freak out; I mean, I can’t even have scrambled eggs anymore!
Of course this is nonsense. Egg whites are a thing, and one egg here and there won’t kill me, and there are also so many other things I can make for breakfast. But tell it to my overwhelmed head that watched an hour worth of vegan YouTube videos yesterday. They all look so quick and easy if you know what to buy, where to buy, and have a blender, and have a big kitchen with all the equipment you know you need and know how to operate. Yes yes, as I told myself just yesterday, Rome was not built in one day. I know, I know! And everyone has advice, because everyone wants to help (at least I’m surrounded by caring people, that’s a plus, I know for many vegans the start is a big “wtf is wrong with you” from family and friends), and it’s just so much.
I know this is how I roll. I always get everything into my head, it just loves sponging all the information. So now I’m like a kid with a big Lego set spilled on the carpet in front of him, trying to build a spaceship, ya know? It’s just a lot.
Today there’s a farmer’s market. I’m going to get myself veggies which I’m familiar with and focus on a salad (which I’m familiar with), and all I’m going to do is to spill beans into it. See how this works out. Then, since I have that soft tofu, I will substitute the Just Eggs (more like, just plastic) for tofu scrambles with some more veggies (tomatos should be good enough) and spices. Start with stuff I know. Another protein shake here, another hummus snack there, breath… breath… you’ll be fine.